#musings Jaehaera about Helaena

[wcrriorhearts]

[nebulaafterdark]

Blood & Cheese (Pt. 1)

Summary: After the events of Blood and Cheese, Rhaenyra’s daughter returns to King’s Landing in hopes of speaking to her childhood companion. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Targcest, mentions of death, loss of virginity

Y/N and Aegon never had an ordinary relationship. They grew up together, they loved each other, knowing all the while they could not marry.

Aegon is promised to Helaena. He marries her, performs his duty, though he loves her as a sister and nothing more.

Y/N does not wed. Rhaenyra is in no hurry to marry off her only daughter.

Years pass, Y/N visits Aegon and Helaena often. Watching their children grow. Twins named Jaehaera and Jaehaerys.

“He looks like you,” Y/N muses, holding his sweet boy.

Aegon smiles, wistfully. Stroking a hand over the back of his son’s hair as he stares at her. What might our children have looked like? He kisses her cheek, “indeed.”

Y/N and Helaena understand each other well enough. Helaena loves Aegon as a brother and nothing more.

Helaena tells her, “I find myself happiest when you are near, as does he.”

Y/N holds her hand out, hoping the other woman will take it. “I should like to be here more, help with the children.”

“Aemond would wed you.” Helaena says, as if the offer is no more complex than the color of the sky. “He likes you well enough and has no qualms about your feelings for Aegon.”

That was before he killed Lucerys. A distant dream now. Y/N makes her way into the castle as servants hustle about.

“The King and Queen have lost their only son.”

Y/N finds the children’s apartments undetected; unable to believe what she has heard until she sees….one bed instead of two.

The door jostles open and someone steps inside, muttering to themselves. A voice Y/N knows well, she waits, huddled in the corner, until she can be certain they are alone.

“Helaena,” her name is whispered from the shadows, as she paces her children’s chamber.

She’s seen nothing of Aegon since the incident, she has been largely alone. Her mother and husband focus largely on finding the men responsible. Helaena knows it will change nothing. Instead she clutches the throw blanket embroidered for her son.

“Helaena,” the voice sounds, again. Y/N creeps out of the corner. Her eyes wide and haunted.

She isn’t real. She can’t be.

“I am so sorry for what’s happened.”

“You are always sorry.” In visions of her and when she stands before her. “Must be an awful way to live.”

Y/N swallows hard, “it is.”

“You are my brother’s only love…I believe he is yours. He’s often down at the pleasure house…wanting for you. You return to him like this? Now?”

Y/N assures her. “I wish only to see him.”

“I will not begrudge you happiness, nor him. But I’ve no wish to remarry, and I’ll have no more children. You might give him a son.” Helaena says.

“I did not come here to bed him, I came here tell him-”

Helaena’s eyes find Aegon’s. Whatever Y/N came here to do matters little now.

“You,” he sneers, approaching Y/N at a pace that sends Helaena scurrying from the room. “One wasn’t enough for you? You had to come yourself to finish the job?” Aegon takes Y/N’s face in his hands so harshly her jaw aches.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“By raven, you might have contacted me.” His wide, mad eyes search hers.

“I thought it best to see you,” Y/N stammers, “so we might talk about this, the way we always have.”

“What is there to talk about?” Aegon scoffs, “my son is my legacy! My son is heir to the throne!”

“From the depths of my soul, I am sorry.” Y/N tells him.

“I never wanted this, I never wanted to marry Helaena, I never wanted to be King. I wanted to marry you, but I love my children. I wanted this to be peaceful and now it cannot be because your mother has killed my child. My sister is distraught, I am distraught.” Aegon pulls himself away, fighting for composure.

“That is why I’ve come.” Y/N tells him, “my mother did not order this, it was Daemon.”

Aegon runs a hand over his face, “so that fixes everything?”

“It doesn’t,” Y/N admits, “I know that much, but if we could stop this war-”

Aegon laughs, low and menacing. “I do not want to stop this war. I intend to fight it.”

“Aegon,” she breathes.

“Will you stand at my side or against me?”

“I have no wish to stand against you. Especially now, after all you have lost. But I would not know my place here.”

“Your place is with me.” Aegon insists.

“But Alicent-”

“I am the king. She made it so,” Aegon reminds her. “I love my mother, sister, and house. I will not abandon Helaena in this.”

“Of course not,” Y/N nods.

“Still you could…” Aegon moves back toward her, “be my wife. My second wife. Take the burden off Helaena.” He nods, “our children will be spared from acts such as these, when I am asked again to produce a male heir.”

“My love,” she cups his face in her hands, “I will do this for you. But not now, not like this.”

“I need you.” He argues.

Y/N strokes his cheeks, “I am here, the rest will sort.”

His lips are on hers then, in a soul crushing kiss. Pouring all of his sadness, loneliness and regret into it. “I love you.” It is a horrid, awful thing to say, following the death of his child, birthed by another woman.

“I love you too.”

He also mourns what might have been, had their mothers not been so stubborn. He wishes Jaehaerys were hers, it might have spared him. “Come with me.”

Y/N nods, allowing him to lead her down the hall to his rooms. Tearing at her clothes, and then his own, falling back onto the bed, with her beneath him. Panting as she stares up at him.

Aegon spits into his hand, wetting his cock as he does not have the patience for much more.

She means to tell him she’s never lied with a man, to warn him about her maidenhead. But she cannot bring herself to ask him to be gentle. She wants it to hurt…and it does. “Ahh.”

Aegon moves slowly, realizing what he’s done. The blood over his cock as he withdraws, “you were saving yourself?”

“It matters little.”

“It matters to me,” Aegon insists, “I’ve hurt you.”

“I want to do this for you.” She shakes her head, “I want you to split me open and bury your sorrows inside. I want to be yours. Your comfort, your strength.”

“Be my wife.”

“I will.”

“Be truthful with me.”

“I will.”

His strokes are slow and deep, kissing her sweetly as he fucks her perfect little cunt, getting her used to the feeling of fullness. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” Y/N admits.

Aegon slips a hand between them, rubbing her pearl in tight circles, “is that any better?”

Y/N gasps, “yes.”

Aegon smiles, “good.”

Y/N weaves her hands into his silver locks. Kissing him, holding him, consuming him. “I love you.”

Aegon groans, “I love you, dearly. I’ve longed for you each day we were apart.”

“Aegon.” She sighs, cunt tense with her impending peak.

“You’ll give me children, won’t you?”

“As many as you’d like.”

“And you will love them?”

“Of course,” Y/N nods.

“My daughter…Jaehaera, will you accept her and treat her as your own?”

Again, Y/N nods.

“Nothing could ever replace my son, but I will survive this, so long as I have you. Our children, Jaehaera, Helaena as well.”

Y/N smiles, “that sounds nice.” The love between Aegon and Helaena is not one she will ever understand. She loves her brother, but she has not bore him children. It would be different, surely.

Aegon lets out a sob as he empties his spend at the mouth of her womb.

Her high comes quick and unexpected, milking Aegon dry and pulsing around him. His cock softens, remaining inside her until he hardens again.

She is sore when morning comes and Aegon bathes her in rose water. Leaving his rooms only long enough to wed before returning to their bed.

Aegon is restless in those early moons, before Y/N’s belly begins to swell with child. She plays with Jaehaera and keeps Helaena company, she writes to her mother when time permits.

Jaehaera giggles loudly as Y/N toys with her doll, walking it towards her. The little girl points to Y/N’s belly.

“Soon.” Y/N tells her, “a little sister or brother for you to play with.”

Jaehaera nods.

Helaena looks to Y/N with a soft smile.

“You know which it is, don’t you?” Y/N can tell by her face.

“Aegon will be pleased,” Helaena says, with finality.

Based off her words, Y/N spends the next months under the impression she’s to have a son. Instead, she bears Aegon a daughter, then two more the following year.

The King does not mind, in fact, he has all but accepted that Jaehaerys would be his only son. Until their fourth child is born, a little boy with silver hair.

“He looks like you,” Y/N says, acknowledging the bittersweet irony of it all.

Aegon nods, with a sad smile, “indeed.”

Part 2

[darkestspring]

Think you can write a yandere Helaena giving her children half-siblings, after giving Aegon an heir and a spare (plus bby Jaehaera) that are fathered by her male sworn protector whom she known since as a girl? Top it all, he’s the best father figure to all of her children compared to Aegon. I’d like to think that her sworn protector gave her a Alysanne, another daughter, so her Jaehaera wouldn’t get lonely by being the only girl.

I consider this part three but can be read on its own. ( part one, part two)

It was a well hidden secret (to the everyone but aegon who really didn't care, it wasn't like he was in love with his sister anyways) that helaena and her sworn protector had something more than professional going on. Your devotion to her was your main priority. You were loyal to only her, no one could separate you from her.

So, aegon didn't really care when Helaena fell pregnant despite the fact that Aegon hasn't been near her is almost a year in an intimate way. He simply accepted the congratulations and went about his day.

"Really?" You asked Helaena with a smile on your face, happiness clear in your eyes as your hand gently pressed against her stomach. "It's.... such a blessing. I'm so happy, thank you." You hid your face in her shoulder as you hugged her, making sure not to hug her too tightly.

Helaena beamed up at you, just as happy at the news. "Yes, I just had it confirmed this morning. It's... happy news." She sounded just as delighted as you.

"We're going to have a sibling?" Jaehaerys looked up at you as he reached up towards you, an indication he wanted to be held and you picked him up and you pulled back from Helaena.

"Yes, are you happy?" You asked him, petting his head softly.

"Mmmmm...." Jaehaera mused, thinking it through. "Can the baby be a girl? I want a little sister."

"Well, we don't get to pick but I'll ask the gods really nicely to grant your wish, sweet Jaehaera." You softly ran your hands through her hair.

"I'll love the baby either way! since I really love Ser!" Jaehaerys looked up at him with shining eyes and you laughed.

"I love you too, sweet boy."

[starksinthenorth]

Targaryen Princesses + Femininity

I wanted to have more organized thoughts but for now I’m just musing over the change over time from Visenya doing magic and her + Rhaenys being invested in politics and ruling as equals and riding dragons, to Rhaena being told not to fly since her brother-husband didn’t have a dragon, to Alysanne and her women’s courts, to the nothing we know about Aemma, to Rhaenyra and Rhaenys 2 not being seen as worthy or able to rule despite being politically involved, trained and educated, dragon-riding Targaryen women like their predecessors . . .

Foiled against Alicent, Helaena, and Jaehaera (and later Daenaera) being pious, still involved as peacemakers but not matchmakers like their predecessors, beloved of the commons, and while the two Targaryens were dragon riders / bonded they never flew in battle,

which leads directly to the next generation of Daena being an odd man out, and similarly Elaena as a political cyvasse piece, with Naerys and Rhaena being super pious and religious

we know next to nothing about the next few generations of Daenerys, Aelora, Daella, Rhae, but the women of House Targaryen started on equal ish footing with their husbands / brothers but as they lost their dragons and acclimated to Westerosi culture, they were more and more sidelined and feminized in a toxic way often so ….

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Nineteen

Maera had come to appreciate the new routine she had established in her life at the Red Keep. The early morning sparring sessions with Aemond, the quick return to her chambers for a change of clothing with the help of Thena, and then the rest of her day dedicated to assisting Queen Helaena in her various duties. Her days were a whirlwind of tasks, but Maera embraced them wholeheartedly. She stood by the queen's side through courtly affairs and diplomatic meetings, always ready with a reassuring smile or a whispered word of encouragement. Some days she would attend to the twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, whether the role be tutor or entertainer, her time with the children brought her immense enjoyment.

Aemond's absence during his duties in the Riverlands, quelling rumored rebellions and ensuring loyalty to the crown, became a recurring pattern. When he returned, Maera noted a slightly better mood about him, likely a reflection of his success in managing the realm's affairs. It was a welcome sight, even if their interactions remained punctuated by their shared history and the complex emotions they both harbored. Maera couldn't help but admire his dedication to his responsibilities, even if it meant sacrificing his own peace.

During his time away, Maera found herself missing his presence. Their time together, though centered around sparring, had rekindled some of their past camaraderie, and Maera appreciated the moments of connection she still shared with him, even if fleeting. She often pondered the fact that Aemond seemed to handle many of the duties that were typically expected of a king. Yet, Aegon, the reigning monarch, spent most of his days in revelry, indulging in drink and pleasures of the flesh. It was probably for the good of the realm that Aemond took on these responsibilities, Maera mused.

A recent role, assigned to Maera by Queen Alicent, involved overseeing the preparations for the upcoming Harvest Moon Ball, taking place in ten days. The women had been meticulously coordinating every detail together to ensure the event's success. Managing these affairs helped keep Maera focused and occupied, a necessary distraction from the continued deterioration of Queen Helaena's mental state. With the combined efforts of Queen Alicent, Maester Orwyle, and Maera herself, they managed to keep Helaena's fragile mental health under control. It was a delicate balance, one they maintained with great care, for the sake of the queen and the realm.

One day, as Maera supervised the delivery of Dahlias and Violas, flowers destined to adorn the grand hall for the upcoming event, a letter arrived at her chambers. The wax seal bore the emblem of House Wylde, and Maera's heart raced with anticipation. She eagerly tore open the letter, her eyes scanning the contents with a mixture of excitement and longing for her family's news.

Dearest Maera,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits amidst the splendor of the capital. It brings me great joy to inform you that our family is well, our fortunes ever favoring our endeavors. The days at Rain House pass with a tranquil swiftness, but a hole has been left in your absence, and we miss you deeply.

There have been some changes since your departure. Guston’s wife is with child for a third time, and he is hoping for another son. Dermot has written from Essos and tells me his travels are going well and does not intend to return to Rainwood any time soon. Our younger sisters, Brienna and Delfine have taken up an interest with the sword, just like you. At least we can get them into the courtyard, unlike Cedric, who remains cooped up in the library. I think he will ask father soon if he has his permission to join the citadel, like our three elder brothers.

I also must let you know that your presence in King's Landing has not gone unnoticed. Your closeness with Queen Helaena has allowed father to establish connections with many other Lords in Westeros. It is with a mixture of pride and bittersweet resignation that I convey to you that our Lord Father has found advantageous marriage pacts for two of our dear sisters.

Wynni has found herself betrothed to Lord Tarly. His house holds influence and respect, and it is with hopes for a prosperous future that this arrangement has been made. Sabine, our fiery spirit, is to be wed to Lord Tarbeck – a union that Father and Guston believe will forge alliances both unyielding and formidable.

I understand the weight of this news, Maera, and the shock it may elicit. But it is due to your hard work that such advantageous matches have been made, and I have been reassured by Guston that Wynni and Sabine’s intended husbands are kind souls of a similar age.

Though distance separates us, please know that your influence and guidance have not been in vain. Our hearts remain connected, and I eagerly await your response of stories from the capital.

Faran

Maera's breath caught in her throat as she read the final words of the letter. Her thoughts raced, a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions surging within her. Shock, disbelief, and a profound sense of loss mingled together, threatening to overwhelm her. She clutched the parchment tightly, as if seeking solace in the ink-stained words.

The news that her younger sisters, Wynni and Sabine, had been betrothed without her knowledge left her seething with rage. Lord Wylde had not only made her available for marriage but had also done the same for her beloved sisters. It was as if he considered them all mere bargaining chips in his quest for power, and Maera couldn't bear the thought of her sisters being treated that way. Feeling deceived and hurt, she couldn't hold back her anger any longer. She stormed into her father's chambers, her eyes blazing with fury. Lord Jasper looked up from his work, surprised by his daughter's sudden entrance.

"Father," Maera began, her voice carrying a tone of unwavering resolve, "I cannot remain silent on this matter. The betrothals you have arranged for Wynni and Sabine... they are far too young to be bound to such alliances."

Lord Jasper's gaze remained stern, his eyes cold and unyielding as they met his daughter's unwavering stare. "Maera," he responded curtly, his tone laced with an underlying frustration, "you underestimate the responsibilities and duties that come with our station. It is our duty as lords and ladies to secure alliances that will benefit our house."

Maera's hands clenched at her sides, her frustration mounting. "But they are children still, Father! They have never stepped foot outside of Rainwood. Sabine has just had her sixteenth name day, and Wynni cannot possibly understand the complexities of this world as a fifteen year old girl!”

Lord Jasper's gaze bore into Maera's, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "They have both flowered, Maera. It is time for them to take on the roles they were born into. It is a tradition that has been upheld for generations, and it is not for you to question."

A flash of anger ignited within Maera's eyes, her resolve strengthening. "I question the haste with which you seek to marry them off to lords in distant lands. Is their happiness not of any concern?"

Lord Jasper's face reddened with a mixture of anger and frustration. "Happiness, Maera, is often a luxury we cannot afford. Our duty to our house and our people must always come first. And speaking of duty, let us not forget your own. Had it not been for vile rumors tarnishing your virtue, you too would have been wed by now."

Maera's cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation. The words struck a painful chord, a reminder of the rumors that had swirled around her name in King's Landing. She took a step back, her voice quivering with emotion. "Those rumors were baseless lies, Father, and you know it. I have dedicated myself to our house and our family's honor. But I cannot stand by and watch my sisters' lives dictated by politics and alliances."

Lord Jasper's eyes narrowed, his voice cutting like a blade. "I won’t sit here and tolerate your disrespect, Maera. You have no say in this matter. My decision is final."

The room fell silent, the weight of their confrontation hanging heavy in the air. Maera's breaths came quick and shallow, her heart pounding against her chest. With one last searing look, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the hall, her footsteps echoing through the corridors as she retreated from her father's presence.

Tears welled in her eyes, a mix of frustration, sadness, and a deep-seated determination to protect her sisters. But her father was right, it was their duty and as their elder sister, she had no say in the marriage pacts that were made. Like many women before them, their futures be dictated solely by the whims of tradition and politics.

Under the shade of the ancient Weirwood tree, with its crimson leaves and haunting carved face, Maera found a semblance of solace. The holy book, "The Seven-Pointed Star," translated into High Valyrian, lay open before her, its pages filled with intricate characters. Her eyes scanned the chapter of The Maiden, her lips silently forming the unfamiliar words. As she tried to immerse herself in the religious text, attempting to improve her grasp of the language, Maera hoped it would provide a welcome distraction from the turmoil within her. Her mother's necklace hung around her neck, a comforting presence against her skin, and she silently prayed to the gods that Lady Gael was watching over her and her siblings.

The footsteps approaching were unmistakable, and Maera recognized them as Aemond's. His presence, even without looking up, was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat, and she had grown more vigilant since their sparring sessions had resumed. Maera called out to him in High Valyrian, a hint of playful admonition in her voice. “Nyke daor hae nāqopsir naejot tyvagon nyeshka gō, dārilaros.” I'm not as easy to sneak up upon as before, my Prince

Aemond, dressed in black riding leathers, acknowledged her with a wry smile. His presence carried with it the subtle scent of dragon, a reminder of his recent return from the Riverlands. He leaned against the Weirwood tree, his arms crossed and his white hair cascading down his back in long, straight locks. His presence offered a welcome distraction from the overwhelming thoughts that had plagued her since reading Faran's letter.

“Skoro syt se raqagon jaes tembyr?” Why the sudden devotion to religious texts? Aemond inquired, genuine curiosity in his voice.

With a sigh, Maera held up the letter from her brother for him to read. It was a small act of trust, one that revealed her vulnerability in the midst of her turmoil. Aemond accepted it and read the contents, his expression unreadable.

"Well," he began, his tone measured, "your hard work in the capital has not gone unnoticed. These matches are a testament to that, particularly ones beyond the Stormlands. That's commendable.”

His words were meant to comfort, but they couldn't dispel the cloud of sadness that hung over Maera. Aemond returned the parchment to her hand before she could reply, her voice, tinged with sadness. "Nyke emagon qringōntan hāedars." I feel like I've failed my sisters.

His reply was measured and surprisingly understanding. "Skorkydoso sīr?" How so?

Maera closed her book, leaning against the Weirwood tree, her gaze averted from his so that Aemond couldn't see the tears that had crept into her eyes.

“Nyke se mandia,” I'm the eldest, she began, the words heavy with emotion. "Nyke yenka emagon issare idīntan ēlī . sytiotāpagon zirȳ va skorkydoso naejot sagon sȳz ābrazȳrys se muña. Y…” I should have been married first. So I could guide them, advise them on being good wives, good mothers, on how to navigate the wedding night. But instead I… Her words trailed off, alluding to matters unsaid.

Aemond didn't respond with his usual sarcasm or indifference. Instead, he listened attentively, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. After a thoughtful pause, he hummed softly before breaking the silence.

"Many women face this fate, my Lady. Duty often outweighs personal desires. You must do what is expected of you and fulfill your role."

His words struck a chord, and Maera couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment. "And what about you, Aemond? You speak of duty, but I do not see your intended Baratheon bride here. You're free to pursue your own desires."

Aemond's expression remained unreadable as he regarded her. "My duties lie elsewhere, as do my ambitions. I may not be confined to a marriage, but that doesn't mean I'm free from the demands of my name, or my blood."

Maera absorbed his words, feeling a mix of emotions. His perspective offered a glimpse into his own struggles, ones that were different but just as significant. She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "I understand. It's just... difficult."

Aemond's voice held a rare gentleness. "I know it is. But you have the strength to navigate this path, and your sisters will need your support, Maera. Write to them, tell them you are genuinely pleased for them. Ease their fears, for they are likely more frightened for themselves than you are for them."

Maera nodded slowly, appreciating his unexpected empathy. Perhaps in this moment, despite their complicated past, she found a kindred spirit who understood the weight of expectations and duty. The prince extended his gloved hand downward towards her, silently offering her assistance with standing. As their fingers met, a subtle but electrifying sensation coursed through her. It was as if a spark had ignited between them, a sensation she hadn't anticipated. The heat in her cheeks grew as she rose to her feet, grateful for his support.

His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before he released her, his fingers slipping away. He broke the spell with words, his voice holding a touch of sincerity that she wasn't accustomed to hearing from him. "You're a good sister, Maera. Not just to your own siblings, but to Helaena as well."

Maera met his gaze, her emotions a swirl of conflicting feelings. She nodded in acknowledgment, her voice slightly unsteady as she replied, "Thank you, my Prince. That means a lot."

He nodded, his expression inscrutable as he turned to walk away. Maera watched him go, the echoes of their conversation and the lingering touch of his hand creating a turmoil within her. She was left alone with her thoughts and the weight of her responsibilities, both to her family and to her duty at court.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/757411855002222592/httpswwwtumblrcomwritingsofwesteros757383067?source=share

That morning at the council meeting Nora reported on her trip to Dorne, earning reluctant nods from the lords of the council. "I would expect greater praise, for my sister. Her efforts have ensured that the smallfolk do not want for food, that Rhaenyra's attempts to hold us hostage with her famn blockade are useless." Aegon said to his council.

"A job well done indeed," Tyland Lannister said lowly, bowing to Nora. As the meeting ended, Nora turned to both brothers and said, "I wish to to to Winterfell. Perhaps Cregan Stark can be swayed-" "No." Aegon said firmly. "I forbid it." "He's already called his banners for Rhaenyra, there is no point in endangering you. What if you encounter Jace on Vermax?" Aemond asked her. "Vermax is but a mouse besides Cannibal." Nora reminded them but Aegon refused, and Aemond adamantly supported him. "Twas' a risk to send you to Dorne alone, and you've only just returned. I'd not have you gone again." Aegon said. That afternoon she went to see Helaena and Jaehaera, to see that her niece was in the nursery being taken cared of so she found Helaena in her own rooms, and Nora climbed up on the bed with her. "Sweet dreamer," Nora hummed.

"Nora," Hel sighed softly. "When you were gone they were more unpredictable," Hel mumbled against her skin. "I'm here now," Nora said gently. "Our brothers properly reined in, I promise." Aemond and Aegon entered but the girls did not change their position exchanging languid kisses, soft, wet, messy kisses. "Would my girls put on a show for their King?" Aegon mused as they sat across from the bed. "Perhaps," Nora hummed, as she gently tugged on Hel's hardened nipples.

Aemond shifted trying to and failing to be discreet about the bulge in his breeches. "Will the King and his Hand show us pleasure when we finish our little show?" Nora asked, and Hel blushed. "Mmm," Aemond watched their bodies together. "Indeed we will."

Tyland being a little bitch but we love him ;)

Daeron or Daella in this verse? ;)

Aegon adores watching , it really is one of his main kinks with Helaena and Nora loving on each other.

[aebi12]

"Sinful Desires" - Chapter 28

Aemond and Aegon speak at the same time.

"What do you mean my brother is dead?"

“Are they talking about your father?”

Alyssa turns from looking at the prince to look at her niece, who just shrugs before looking down.

What had she done. An involuntary sob nearly escapes her lips at the thought of the harm she has caused to Jaehaera. How come she hadn't stopped to consider how her father's death might affect her? Not just emotionally, but politically. Were there others who consider the little girl as their queen? What would happen now that the iron throne was vacant?

"Stand up this instant, Lord Commander, and explain yourself," Aemond's tone manages to snap her out of her musings.

“King Aegon passed away while being carried from the council chamber to his apartments on his litter. When the guards lifted the curtains to help him down, they found him lifeless."

"How did he die?"

"I wouldn't know for sure, my prince, the maesters are still examining his body"

They won't find anything. Alys assured you they wouldn't find anything.

Aemond looks at the children for a few moments before giving his orders to the knight, “Lord Commander, lock the castle and the city gates at once. And gather all the council members in the council room. Drag them there if they resist. Start with Larys Strong.”

Ser Willis immediately leaves the room with his men and the prince turns to Alyssa, "I must go see him."

She doesn't object to his request or ask him to stay with them, she just nods and hears him leave as well, her green eyes looking at Jaehaera again, who seems to have recovered from the initial shock and is now talking with Aegon. For a moment she considers reaching out to her and taking her in her arms, making sure she's okay, but she can't. She's practically frozen in place, her eyes on the verge of bursting with tears that are half guilt and half revulsion for what she's just done. For the person she has become.

You're nothing but a kinslayer. Another one in the family.

Alyssa feels her vision blur and dizziness assails her, so she clings to the nearest piece of furniture and tries to breathe deeply to calm the tremors that run through her body.

"Princess, are you alright?"

Daysi's voice reaches her as if she were somewhere far away, although Alyssa is aware that the nanny has taken her hands and is standing next to her.

“Should I call the maester? Or the prince?

She hastens to shake her head quickly, “I'm…I'm fine,” she assures after her voice clears, “I'm just…” She makes a vague gesture with her hand.

Daysi brings something to her lips and she drinks without question. It's water and it’s really cold, which suits her well and helps her compose herself a bit. Alyssa opens her eyes and sees the frightened expressions of the children.

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” she assures them.

I'll be fine, she says to herself.

“I'm just a little shocked,” she continues, “Maybe it would be nice… maybe a little more water would help.”

Daysi hurries to comply to her request, and Alyssa sips calmly, the tremors in her hands easing as she begins to breathe normally and watches the children resume their game.

"What is going to happen now, princess?" Daisy dares to ask, “Will the little princess really be our queen?”

"I don't know, Daisy, I don't know"

***

Aemond is not prepared for the wave of sadness that washes over him when he enters the royal chambers and sees his brother's still body on the bed.

He didn't love Aegon, at least not unconditionally. And if he was honest with himself, for much of his life a portion of his mind—one he tried not to encourage too much—had wished his older brother would suddenly disappear. He had envied Aegon so much, his natural skill with a sword, his bond with Sunfyre, his carefree nature, his claim as the king's firstborn. He had grown up resenting him for what he would be given, for his marriage to Helaena, for the horrible person he had become... And yet he had been loyal to him and had fought for him.

Because he was his brother.

And now he is dead.

"What is the verdict?" asks to one of the young maesters

"Everything seems to indicate that it was a natural death, my prince"

He frowns, “I saw him a few hours ago. He seemed as healthy as it was possible considering his condition."

"His injuries were considerable and the... excesses of his habits did not help his recovery at all"

“Are you absolutely sure that the king simply died of natural causes? Could he have been poisoned, perhaps?"

He hadn't wanted to ask that question in front of Alyssa so as not to upset her, but the thought had crossed his mind when he heard of the sudden death of his brother because, after all, Aegon was not without his enemies.

“There is no reason to entertain such an idea, prince. The king's body shows no sign of poison, and the wine he had in his litter has already been examined. Two cupbearers tried it and they are still as alive as you and me.”

Aemond nods and turns his gaze to his brother, who appears to be simply asleep. At least, the prince thinks as he takes the conqueror's crown into his hands, Aegon is no longer in pain.

“Call the silent sisters and have them prepare the body as soon as possible,” he orders before leaving the room.

***

The council chamber is abuzz with whispers as Alyssa and Aemond enter through the double doors.

"It's true? Is the king dead?” inquires Lord Tyland.

Aemond ignores his question and watches those present, the Grand Master, High Septon, Corlys Velaryon, Tyland Lannister and a clearly flustered Larys Strong being watched closely by Ser Willis.

"Did they cooperate?" asks to the lord commander

“Everyone except this one,” the knight points to Larys, “Apparently he was getting ready to go somewhere when we got to his chambers."

“Ridiculous,” Larys mutters.

“My nephew and niece need you, Ser Willis. Protect the princes until we return,” commands Aemond.

The knight nods and leaves the council chamber, though two of his white cloaks remain inside.

Alyssa, who had been reluctant to leave the children alone under the supervision of the guards, is relieved knowing that the Lord Commander will be watching over them. The man had faithfully cared for Jaehaera on the journey to Storm's End and was loyal to the royal family.

"It's true, my brother Aegon is dead"

"May the gods guide the king’s way to the afterlife," says the High Septon

"What happened? We were meeting right here until less than an hour ago.” Lord Corlys looks puzzled, though not overly sorry.

“My brother died of natural causes”

Another murmur runs through the room, and Alyssa digs her fingernails into her palms as she tries to keep her expression neutral.

"Has that been confirmed by the maesters?" asks Tyland Lannister

"Of course, otherwise I wouldn't be assuring you that information right now," an exasperated Aemond replies, "Aegon apparently succumbed to his many injuries."

"But he seemed to be as good as ever until a while ago," the High Septon sighed.

“We knew it could happen,” reasons Tyland Lannister, “Frankly it was a miracle that he survived his exile from the city, and still fight riding his dragon. Admirable"

Admirable isn't the word Alyssa would use, but she bites her tongue and fixes her gaze on a spot on the floor.

“That is true,” Corlys Velaryon chimes in, “His health had declined considerably. And during the session there were moments where he gave me the impression of being awfully tired and absent”

“Yes, yes, you are right,” Tyland Lannister agrees, “I figured…”

"Perhaps the princess could also tell us about her impressions on the king's health this morning."

Larys Strong's comment catches her off guard, and she only manages to look baffled as she turns pale. "Me?"

“Didn't you visit the king this morning? You spent a fair amount of time in his rooms”

“I… uh…” Alyssa looks at Aemond and the council members before answering, “Yes, yes, that's true, I spoke to Aegon this morning.”

"Why would that be relevant, Strong?" asks lord Corlys

"Because it seems to me that the king's death was most convenient for the princess"

"What exactly are you referring to?" Tyland Lannister frowns.

“That the king made it very clear that he would not support his brother's idea of punishing the princes' alleged aggressors,” the man waves his hand at Aemond and Alyssa, “and shortly after, the king dies, after being alone in his rooms with the princess"

"Are you accusing my betrothed of murdering my brother?" fury is evident in Aemond's voice, his hand going instinctively to the dagger at his belt.

"I'm just pointing out that it's very curious how it all happened"

There's an instant, a brief instant, when the faces of the council members are all focused on Alyssa, and though she tries to remain composed, she knows her facade is about to crumble under the pressure of scrutiny.

“I just went to… I was just seeking his help for the matter you are already aware of,” her voice sounds strangely hoarse and her breathing begins to hitch, “I didn't mean… I didn't…” Her green eyes suddenly meet the mahogany ones of her grandfather, and the man seems to acknowledge her guilt because she can swear there is wonder and realization in his expression.

She's lost.

However, when Corlys Velaryon interrupts her, his words surprise her.

"If I had to distrust anyone, that would be you, Strong"

"Is that so?" Larys looks with a mixture of wonder and curiosity at the Sea Snake.

“I'm afraid I must report treason, my prince,” Corlys looks at Aemond, “Larys Strong has been in communication with lords of the Riverlands who support the opposing side, and are now marching on the city. In addition, he had a plan to assassinate the king by poisoning him and he wanted me to be part of said conspiracy”

Alyssa gasps and brings her hand to her chest. Tyland Lannister takes a few steps back, away from Larys Strong, who in turn is looking at Corlys Velaryon with fury in his eyes.

“You really are a snake,” Strong says with a smirk.

"Treason!" says the High Septon, outraged

"Tell me all you know about this plan, Lord Corlys," Aemond demands, his cold gaze passing between the two men involved.

“The plan was to go into action once you were in the free cities,” he says, “According to Lord Larys, with the right contacts it would be simple to end the lives of the two of you,” he points to Alyssa and Aemond, “And install the child Aegon as King"

Alyssa casts her eyes on Larys Strong, who seems calm despite the accusations against him.

"What was he planning to do with Princess Jaehaera?" asks Alyssa

“The girl was not in his plans,” Lord Corlys replies with a grimace.

"Guards!" Aemond roars, "Take Larys Strong to the training yard and await my orders!"

Larys Strong barely puts up a fight when two of the knights drag him out of the council chamber.

“Who else knew about this plan?” inquires Aemond

"I couldn't tell you, my prince."

“Why didn't you report it earlier? Were you also thinking of joining Strong's conspiracies?"

“I was waiting for the right moment to talk to the king”

“And you waited so long that now the king is dead,” he spits.

Aemond's fury is clear. His temper threatens to boil over at any moment, and right now, the prince seems to want to take down anyone who seems the slightest bit suspicious.

Alyssa looks at Lord Corlys and their gazes meet once more for a brief moment. And she finds in the man's eyes something that seems to be a plea and a look of complicity. Or maybe just a reminder of what she owes him.

"You'd better calm down, Aemond," the princess places her hands on his arm, "Lord Corlys has just given us valuable information, surely... surely he was thinking about talking to Aegon very soon, and didn't imagine that things would get complicated so quickly"

“My brother is dead,” he hisses.

And his words cut through her conscious like knives, but she forces herself to remain calm and takes Aemond's face in her hands.

"Don't allow yourself to be guided by your grief," she tells him, “Lord Corlys made sure we were safe when you were convalescing in Harrenhal, and he has proven his loyalty to us. His testimony will help us get our justice now that we have proof that Larys Strong is a traitor and conspired for the king's death."

Her words seem to make an impression on Aemond, because he stops holding his dagger and his expression softens, “At least now I have a valid reason not to delay the matter any longer and cut off his head.”

"Wouldn't it be better to question him and get him to confess the names of all of his accomplices?" She knows that maybe she's pushing her luck, maybe Lord Corlys is making up this whole so-called plan thing, though something tells Alyssa he isn't.

"You're right," Aemond nods and looks at one of the guards, "Have Larys Strong taken to the dungeons and questioned until he confesses everything he knows."

The High Septon lets out a shriek of fear, and Alyssa suddenly remembers that they are still in the council chamber.

"The time has come to administer justice," she replies with a nod, "And Lord Larys is not the only one who must face it."

They both turn around at the same time and look at the Grand Maester, who has turned pale to such an extent that he seems to be going to faint at any moment.

“You will pay for your crimes too, maester,” Alyssa says.

"Princess, I don't... it's absurd..."

"I won't hear your lies no more!" Aemond orders, "Take the grand maester to the dungeon as well, and await my orders."

There is a certain satisfaction in seeing the maester being led from the room, although the uncertainty of the whole situation does not let her enjoy herself as much as she would like.

“The small council keeps getting small,” says Tyland Lannister half-jokingly half serious.

"There is an urgent matter to attend to, prince." Lord Corlys speaks, "The Matter of Succession"

Aemond grimaces and sits down in the same place as the day before. Alyssa sits down next to him again, as do the other members.

“Princess Jaehaera is the late king's only living daughter,” says the High Septon, “She should be the one to guide us.”

"Didn't you say until a few weeks ago that it is not appropriate for a woman to assume a position for which only men are qualified?" asks Lannister

"But it's only fair for her to be named heir!" the religious responds indignantly

A chuckle escapes from Alyssa's lips, "If we were ruled by what is fair, High Septon, we would never have started this war."

There is a slight awkwardness between the council members who suddenly seem to be aware of who Alyssa's mother was.

“We must have in mind what is best for the realm,” Tyland Lannister says, “We know that a woman on the throne will never be fully accepted. Lacking an heir to King Aegon, your younger brother is the prime candidate to be king. Especially if you two can't…” The man stops talking, awkward.

“Especially since we can't have children of our own, you mean,” Alyssa finishes for him, “It doesn't matter if my brother or my niece receives the crown, they're both too young to assume such power.”

"That is true," Corlys Velaryon agrees, "A regent is what the realm needs."

"None more capable than Aemond," Alyssa observes the prince, "He has the experience, and he is a Targaryen, the only living son of King Viserys."

"I think it is the most sensible option," Lannister agrees, "and if little Prince Aegon is made king, the lords who support Princess Rhaenyra's cause will surely agree to lay down their arms."

"Those men will accept any terms we give them or they will taste my dragon's fire," Aemond replies.

Corlys Velaryon frowns at him, “The riverlands have yet to recover from your assaults, Prince Aemond. If you march with your dragon, destruction will follow. And with winter advancing it will be a disgrace for all of us to lose the few fertile lands we have."

“The Reach also provides us with food,” he replies, dismissing his words.

Alyssa places her hand over his under the table. He glances at her briefly and finally sighs, “The northerners and other lords will eventually bend the knee, I'm sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to. The next time I summon you, you will know my decision on the succession.”

And when Vhagar roars menacingly, no one dares to do more than nod and watch him stride purposefully from the room.

***

The council members begin to leave the room a few minutes later, though Alyssa remains seated, her gaze still fixed on the door through which the prince has just left.

"Alyssa"

Corlys Velaryon's voice pulls her from her thoughts and brings her back to the reality of the now empty room and the figure of her grandfather standing before her, his dark eyes searching her curiously.

"Lord Corlys, I…" she doesn't quite know what to say. She doesn't even know if her suspicions about what the man knows are true.

"I believe thank you is the word you are looking for"

There's so much arrogance in that sentence that Alyssa stops herself from rolling her eyes, but not with her reply, “And I think that thank you should go both ways. Aemond was ready to kill you a few moments ago."

The man smiles sideways and wrinkles form in his eyes. Suddenly, the girl is aware of how old he looks and how tired he seems to be, "Let's say then that our interventions were quite opportune"

Alyssa nods.

"Is it true? Larys Strong's conspiracy against Aegon"

"It was," he admits, "The king was not particularly well-liked and his frail condition made him vulnerable to his enemies."

"And you were willing to join Strong?"

“I was considering my options,” he replies, adding, “But you should know that I would never have hurt you or your brother.”

Alyssa doesn't know if she believes him or if she should be relieved by his answer. She only knows that her grandfather is an ambitious man, that he always has been, and that she should not have been surprised that he sought to improve his position at any cost.

"What you did..." the man tilted his face, "I didn't think you have it on you to do such thing"

There is no reproach or disgust in Lord Corlys's voice, but still his words make her feel uncomfortable and renew the guilt she's been feeling since that morning.

“I only did it because I was desperate to protect my family”

Corlys Velaryon looks at her curiously once more, “There is no undercurrent of power in getting rid of the king, is that what you say? Did it not occur to you that by doing so, you would become one of the most powerful people in the kingdom?”

“I have no desire to rule or to sit on the throne, if that's what you think,” she clarifies.

“Perhaps not, but it is what awaits you once you marry the prince. It will be many years before Aegon or Jaehaera have the appropriate age to rule, and you will be a full-fledged authority until then"

And, in addition, so would he. That is what Alyssa understands from his words because, after all, she is a Velaryon. Even if only in name, Lord Corlys is the head of her house, her grandfather, and he can exert even more influence as he is directly related to Alyssa.

“I am not interested in the power that I may have. My actions were motivated by the fear that something terrible could happen to my little brother."

"Whatever the reason, it doesn't change the outcome," he replies matter-of-factly, "And now that it's done, you have to move on."

"What do you mean?" she frowns without understanding his words

“You were about to collapse a few minutes ago and you can't afford to be weak right now, Alyssa. You can't let the pressure of your actions take away your sanity."

"I don't…"

"You can't tell him what you did"

Alyssa looks down, her eyes feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up and her fingernails finding their way once more to her palms.

"He…"

"You can't tell him," he repeats emphatically, "The prince needs your influence now more than ever."

"My influence?" She looks up, "You talk as if I controlled him, as if I could bend his mind or..."

“That was what I witnessed just recently,” he interrupts once more.

“No, it wasn't,” she shakes her head, “you make it sound as if Aemond were a manipulable child in my hands and nothing could be further from the truth. He changed his mind because he listens to me, because he considered my words and found reason in them”

Lord Corlys smirks, a smug, weary smirk, “If you'd rather see it like this, that's fine. Nonetheless, the prince cannot know the truth.”

"I don't like having secrets from him"

You say that, but you keep hiding things from him more and more often.

“Sometimes you have to have them”

She shakes her head, a rebellious tear rolling down her cheek.

“You could lose him if you tell him you murdered his brother,” she shudders, “and there's more at stake than just the prince's love. Your position is at stake, that of your brother and the future of both of you. Think about it"

She just nods because she doesn't want to keep listening to the man, "Thank you, Lord Corlys, I'll think about your words."

***

Guilt is consuming her once again.

That night, as they share a frugal dinner, Alyssa is unable to meet Aemond's eye.

Though she knows that he is inwardly crying for his brother, grieving over Aegon's sudden death, though she wishes she could cross the short distance between their chairs and hold him, comfort him of a grief well known to her, she can't. She can't help but clutch her hand to a glass of wine she doesn't even taste.

He seems to be going through something similar because, after telling her that he found evidence of Corlys's accusation of Larys Strong in the latter's rooms, he has remained silent, eating very slowly and drumming his fingers on the table, though not really making noise.

You can't tell him. He can't know the truth.

Her mind keeps repeating those words to her, and she knows that, in a way, her grandfather is right. She herself had decided to leave Aemond out of her plan because she had not wanted to mortify him with the knowledge of what she had chosen as punishment for his mother.

Or because you knew he wouldn't understand, that he wouldn't want you to kill his brother.

Alyssa bites her lip hard and closes her eyes for a moment.

No, that was not true. Aemond had told her that she could choose Alicent's punishment and he would respect her decision. It was she who hadn't wanted him to be a part of her plan. That's all.

So why not tell him? If you are so sure that he will understand you, tell him.

And she really wants to tell him.

But she remains silent.

"I'll go see Jaehaera"

Aemond's voice startles her and she opens her eyes, facing the prince, who is already on his feet.

"Yeah, I huh... maybe I'll go later"

Aemond just nods, giving her the impression that he's staring at her for a few seconds before leaving the room.

“Take this away, I won't be able to eat more,” she says to one of the maids before raising the glass of wine to her lips.

When the table is free, Alyssa puts on her nightgown and climbs into bed. She won't visit the children that night, she doesn't think she can face the little princess.

You're nothing but a coward, says that voice in her head before she closes her eyes and sheds the tears she's had so hard to hold back.

~ ~ ~

The distance between the two seems to increase with the days.

Or maybe it's just Alyssa's impression, for she still can't act normal around him.

"I'll meet with the council again this afternoon," Aemond says, "I'll probably be late again."

She just nods and watches him knot his straight hair into his usual style before leaving their chambers.

Alyssa knows that council meetings are not as long as Aemond makes her think, she knows that the prince spends hours with his dragon, and that by the time he returns to the Keep, the children are already asleep and she pretends to be sleeping as well, lying on her side of the bed and hearing every little noise he makes as he climbs under the covers.

But they don't touch.

He doesn't reach for her hugs, he doesn't cradle her against his body, he doesn't even intertwine their fingers. Of course, she doesn't dare caress him either and spends most of her sleepless nights wishing she could get closer to the prince, overwhelmed by his smell of musk and wood, by the security she used to feel having him near her, by the craving to kiss him, by the crazy desire to confess to him the dark secret that she carries, by her fears that he will not be able to forgive her.

Did you not forgive his transgression against your brother? Why shouldn't he do the same to you?

She doesn't dare confirm an answer. She does nothing but yearn for the spontaneity with which they used to find each other and melt their bodies. And, for several nights, Alyssa believes that she can feel him watching her through the night, but when she dares to turn and look at him, he seems to be fast asleep.

***

"You're doing the right thing"

"I'm losing him"

“He is only grieving his brother, it will pass,” Lord Corlys assures her.

The afternoon is cold, but the children seem to enjoy their walk in the gardens. They both cradle their dragon eggs in their cloaks, carrying them carefully and talking to them between knowing smiles.

“It will be better after tomorrow. The funeral will bring closure to this unfortunate episode."

Alyssa looks at him skeptically, but she just nods. She doesn't believe his words, but she feels too tired to argue against them. Falling back into her familiar circle of sadness has left her weaker than ever, and she prefers to just be complacent.

“Will you attend the execution?”

"I'm expected to"

Not that she really wants to go. Alyssa thought she would finally feel free, safe and happy when her enemies were put to the sword, but when Aemond gives the order and the royal knights cut off the heads of the grand maester, Larys Strong and two other men accused of conspiring against Aegon and murdering him, she can only feel a bitter mix of relief and nausea.

And that night she can't sleep in the slightest, haunted by the image of those men's heads on the pikes outside the Fortress.

It's not funny? She wonders inwardly, they are the ones who did you wrong, but it is you who suffers from their deaths without finding the tranquility that you thought you would achieve with their absence.

Quieting her mind isn't easy and she knows it, so she gives up and climbs out of bed to sit on the windowsill, wrapped in a bearskin blanket. She is still sitting there when, hours later, Aemond wakes up and finds her.

"You couldn’t sleep?"

She shakes her head, her gaze still fixed on the courtyard outside.

“Are you… are you in pain? Do you want me to call the maester?"

The concern in his voice moves her deeply, and hurts her at the same time. Tears well up in her eyes and she fights back a sob as she shakes her head again.

But she knows that he notices her distress. Aemond always knows when something is not right, he is always able to read her like an open book. That is why he is terrified by the distance that has been created between them.

"I'm fine," she says hoarsely.

She doesn't hear his answer, but she notices him starting to get ready for the funeral.

“I'll see you there,” he tells her before leaving her alone once more.

***

Jaehaera is wearing a black dress with the golden three-headed dragon embroidered on the chest.

The choice of the dress was made by Alyssa herself, since it is what the late king's daughter is expected to wear, although seeing her dressed in the emblem of her father, her turmoil increases.

She has been avoiding the children as much as she could without neglecting them, but she knows that Aemond has spent time with them and that he has spoken to Jaehaera about Aegon's death. Daysi had told him about it one afternoon when they were walking through the Red Keep.

"Are you okay, princess?" the question comes from the nanny

“I'm just tired,” she answers, nodding and focusing her gaze on the funeral pyre.

Vhagar descends over the hill and Aemond dismounts before giving the order. The warmth of the dragonfire is welcome on such a cold morning, and as the flames lick Aegon's body, Alyssa can't help but pray – to whatever god will listen to her – that this be the last funeral she has to attend for a long time.

“The prince has ordered us to go to the throne room,” Lord Corlys tells her as the crowd begins to disperse.

"Why?" she questions, feeling suddenly very nervous

The man just sighs and climbs with Alyssa and the children into one of the carriages back to the castle.

“Daysi, take the children to bathe, I'll see them for lunch,” she tells the young woman once they enter the Red Keep.

Alyssa goes with Corlys to the throne room. Aemond already stands there, at the foot of the hideous chair of swords, the conqueror's crown once more in his hands. The princess has a feeling of deja-vu as she watches the scene.

“I have made a decision,” he says to the assembled council members and several other lords of the court, “I will once more assume the rule of the realm under the title of Prince Regent until my nephew, Aegon, is old enough to take his rightful place as king"

The whispers spread like wildfire among those present, all whispering things that Alyssa cannot understand. She only has eyes for Aemond, who is also staring back at her.

Why had he suddenly decided something so final without even telling her?

"Were you aware of this?" asks her grandfather quietly

She shakes her head.

"It doesn't matter," says the man, "It's just the result we wanted."

Alyssa's stomach tugs and she looks away from the Prince Regent and looks at Lord Corlys.

“It is perhaps what you wanted. The only thing I wanted was to be happy with Aemond"

Corlys Velaryon regards her with a mixture of pity and exasperation, but bows briefly before joining the voices pledging allegiance to the new regent.

***

"I thought my decision would please you"

Alyssa hasn't heard him enter their room, though a part of her is aware that he had followed her when he realized she had rushed out of the throne room.

"Should it pleased me the fact that you have place such a burden on my little brother’s head?" she asks from her place sitting on the edge of the bed

“Aegon will not always be a child. And you know that it is his right as a son of this family to sit on the Iron Throne and rule,” he replies with a calm voice.

Yes, she knows. She also knows that her complaint is foolish. It's what her mother had wanted for her son, what her grandfather somehow expected, what the kingdom took for granted. What Aegon was entitled to for having been born in the family that had created a ruling dynasty. Her reaction is irrational, but she can't help but feel betrayed.

"You could have told me before announcing it before the entire court."

"Just like you tell me everything?"

His question sounds like a reproachful accusation, and Alyssa automatically looks up at him, paling at the pained expression on his face.

“What… what do you mean?” she manages to ask in a thin voice, although it is not necessary for him to answer because his words were clear, the background of them letting her know that he is aware of her crime.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” he replies taking a couple of steps in her direction, “Don't take me for a fool, Alyssa, I know something isn't right between us. I know you've been keeping something from me since the day Ser Willis announced my brother's death. I know that…"

He stops talking and just stares at her, like he's unable to say out loud what he really wants to say.

"What else do you know?" she asks fearfully as she stands up

He seems to hesitate and looks down for a second, but when he turns to face her, there is determination in his turquoise blue eye, "Just say it, please, I want you to tell me," he almost begs.

But she can't talk. She can't tell him what he wants, she just shakes her head as her nails dig furiously into her palms.

"Aemond, I..."

"Tell me if it was you," he insists, "I need to know, please."

There are a few seconds of silence that feel like forever before her resolve and good judgment crumble, and she finally admits it in a choked voice, "It was me."

Aemond recoils from the weight of her confession, his gaze shadowed, and the tension reflected throughout his body. If he thought he was going to feel better to finally hear her confirm what he's been suspecting for days, he's dead wrong. Her admission of guilt has only added another weight and pain to the ones he already carries.

Alyssa. His Alyssa had poisoned his brother.

“I'm so sorry, my love, so sorry,” Alyssa hastens to say, “I just wanted…I wanted us to be safe, I wanted…”

"Why did you not tell me?"

"How could I?" she asks, desperate, “How did you want me to tell you that I thought… I thought about…” she can't even say it out loud

"Then why, Alyssa? Why go to that extreme?” he asks, frustrated and hurt, “I want to know… I need to know,” he corrects himself, “Whether this was some kind of retribution or punishment for killing Lucerys?”

Alyssa pales and tries to get closer to him, but noticing his expression, she stops short, “It was a punishment, yes, but not for you, but for your mother. I wanted Alicent to feel the pain that I experienced when she took the lives of our babies."

“A son for another son,” he replies with a cold smirk.

She flinches at his anger and choice of words. “You said you would let me choose the punishment I saw fit. I admit I didn't give it much thought, I acted on impulse because I was desperate,” her voice cracks from the pressure of holding back her tears, “I didn't think…I didn't think about the consequences or the pain I would inflict on you and Jaehaera”

"Or maybe you thought that I would not care too much if my brother died"

“No, such thought never crossed my mind,” she assures him, “had I thought that I would have apprised you of my resolution instantly. But because I knew of your affection for him, I did not want to burden your conscience with sending Aegon to his death."

He mutters something she doesn't understand but sounds like a curse, his hands balled into fists as he turns his back on her momentarily.

“I was scared and I was foolish,” she continues, “But it seemed like the sensible thing to do at the time. Aemond… your brother was never going to leave mine alone. He told me that he was considering making him a eunuch. To do such hideous thing to my baby Aegon! A little boy! Even if we went to Pentos, we would always have been a thorn in his side, an inconvenience to his reign. And you… you listened to the members of the council, he was not going to help us with our justice, he did not care at all what happened to me…”

"It was convenient to kill him, that's what you mean," he interrupts.

And the worst thing is that he, in a way, understands her. He understands everything that led her to make the decision to poison his brother, he knows that her fears were drowning her and that they were not unjustified. He knows that eventually his brother was going to be forced to act. And sparing young Aegon's life was not going to be his decision.

“I thought so, yes,” she admits, “but I've done nothing but feel guilty since that morning. There is no… I don't feel relieved or pleased with this situation. I just spend my days berating myself for what I did and with such shame that I can barely look you or my niece in the eye. I wish… I wish I hadn't done it"

And Aemond believes her. The prince really believes in the sincerity of her words, the problem is that he finds it hard to reconcile the image of his sweet and reasonable Alyssa with that of a woman capable of committing violent acts for revenge.

That wasn't his betrothed.

“I never thought you would be able to do something like this,” he blurts out suddenly, unable to contain his displeasure, “You were light, my light, my peace among the chaos, but now…”

She recognizes the words he had spoken to her so long ago and her heart breaks at the disappointment shown in his face, his voice, in how hopeless he seems. And the way he looks at her…like she's a stranger…like he doesn't know her.

Or like he's just seeing her for what she is.

“I'm a bad person,” Alyssa finally concludes, nodding, feeling for the first time—but amplified a thousand times—the terrible weight of her crime, “I'm a murderer.”

Her green eyes look so empty when she faces him and the tears that fall down her face, though silent, tear at him more than if Alyssa were screaming. Aemond instantly berates himself for leading her to think that about herself. And he knows that he should say something, that he should reassure her that it isn't true, but his bitterness overwhelms him. The lies, the betrayal, having been excluded once more… the grief for his brother. He falls silent and watches her bite her lip hard to hold back a moan.

"Have I lost you, Aemond?"

Her question catches him off guard and he doesn't have an immediate answer for her, which amazes him even more than her words.

“I think it's best if we put some distance between us for now,” he says after a few endless seconds, “I don't want…I'm too upset right now to keep talking.”

I don't want to hurt you anymore, is what he wants to say.

She just nods.

“I will be leaving the capital tonight,” he informs her, her sad green gaze resting on him once more. Aemond feels the need to explain, "I will go meet Borros Baratheon and his army before I meet Lord Stark and the other lords of the Riverlands.”

She just nods again.

Aemond looks at her for a few seconds and, since it seems that neither of them will say anything else, he turns his back on her and prepares to leave the room.

It is then when she speaks again.

"Promise you'll come back to me," she begs with a sobbing voice full of pain.

Never doubt my love for you, he used to reply before leaving her. And he would assured her that he would return to her.

But not this time.

This time Aemond just stops, not even turning to look at her, though she knows he's heard her.

And Alyssa, who had feared for his life during the battles of the war, realizes that fear doesn't even compare to the panic that rises in her chest as she watches him leave the room without a kind word or a goodbye.

_______________________________________________________

"How can there be peace without atonement?"

Vanessa Ives

________________________________________________________

Next chapter will *probably* also be the last, though we will have an epilogue. What you guys think? I'd love to read your thought on their current situation.

[snowfyres]

⭐ (if i sent from this blog already, just ignore this one!)

MULTIMUSE MEME: Send a " ⭐ " and I will list muses I would be interested in throwing at yours, or potential muse combinations if you are also a multi.

Grandpa Baelon. In the AU we mentioned with Daemon but with Rhaenyra, as his granddaughter of course and you know, he has no trouble with Targaryen matches so she might be luckier in this AU.

Laena in her blog. Because I feel they really underdeveloped their relationship in the show when they were friends and they were together plenty times, with her being there when Laena died so be it in canon or the AU survival, it could be very interesting.

Sara Snow - because she has the fear of God regarding Rhaenyra specially when it comes to her and Jace (be it rumors or not). But I always have Sara going in Cregan's place to Dragonstone until her brother can arrive as the Winter Wolves only hear a Stark, bastard or not.

Aegon II, Helaena - pre-war or perhaps during or after the dance. Maybe no Dance AU or with Hel, when Rhaenyra takes King's Landing.

Jaehaera - Instead of Aegon keeping Aegon the younger around, it's Rhaenyra who keeps Jaehaera as the last surviving Green with Alicent going crazy in the dungeons. Jaehaera could be fearful but in the end love her auntie, who could also teach her about dragons, with Morghul still around.

[lalaenaluna]

@onetrueheir gets a vaguely plotted starter.

he had given her a river, flowing with water; a thriving ecosystem from that flicker, blooming into a dazzling garden of love and hope. jaehaerys had been her muse, her boy as much as jaehaera was her girl. not one without the two, and yet, yet, yet. her boy. her shining boy. what could she say? what grief could she instill that the gods she could call upon would right the wrong of stealing her shining star? the flickering light of her night sky, a waterfall of life - he was vibrant, with his loving smile and warmth. talented and brave. he would hold each bug she gave him, no matter how nervous he might have looked, with the same smile. it warmed her, shone against her ribcage. now she stood in the frigidness of a glooming garden, dead and devoid of life. what could she do now, she wondered, knowing that light had gone out?

wander. it was the first and only answer she had, drifting aimless against a haze. drowning in the weight of her grief - pain, as much hers as anyone else. aegon felt it, she knew. helaena was not foolish enough to not see the way his eyes stopped focusing. the way his world seemed dimmer. a sun with no star, a star with no son. their boy, beloved and sacred to the both of them, to the realm - he was heir. her husband-brother never failed to make it know; another display of his very devotion. it was almost too much to bear witness to now. it was all too much now. the same memories an endless stream, a circling spiral of back and forth, over and under. she would wake to the terror she'd felt that night - the way the knife had felt... cold against her throat, her children sleeping, jaehaerys so close - too close. not close enough.

she'd offered her very life to them, but they seemed to only care about the wage they would make from this kill. this murder. this defilement. " I have a necklace, " she would find herself saying, over and over, again and again. how many times could she repeat it? even now, she finds herself muttering it as she steps off the boat. cargo, meant to take people to and from the black queen's domain. dragonstone was beautiful, and if she could focus on more than the weighing exhaustion that held her down, the shake in her hands, and her boy. her shining boy. perhaps she could have gotten lost in its spires and beautiful stone pillars and towers. instead, helaena finds herself drifting from beach to gates themselves, wandering. wandering. she sucks in a breath, and picks at the beds of her nails.

she mulls over what she might say, what she could say. would mother be cross? she muses, quietly, and finds the cycle drawn anew. circling. helaena feels ill - she feels far, and yet, she is not close enough. the guards halt her at the entrance of the stone spires, and the queen - no, she reminds herself, she is not queen here. helaena. that is her name, isn't it? she's still helaena? the woman muses it, muses herself - considers. could she still be herself without the light that illuminated her? a moon without her stars. a reflection of what is, and what is to come.

with what is left of her own might, the girl straightens her shoulders as she remembers rhaenyra doing once. fingers clasp in front of her. " I am here to see the queen, " she tries, voice weary and tired, but the same gentle as a girl much younger than she. all she knows now is the tired, without her light. " please. "

[optimizche]

Missing (Part 6) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Being a dragonrider for as long as he could remember, Aemond Targaryen disliked travel on horseback. Horses were slow, incredibly slow, clumsy and awkward to ride for a seasoned dragonrider like the one-eyed exiled Prince. 

He much preferred the swiftness, elegance and ease of dragons, flying high above the earth, well above the din of the city and the villages. Well away from common folk and horse shit. And dragons looked infinitely more intimidating than horses that even bannerless sellswords rode. 

Before being forced out of the gates of King's Landing, Aemond had received a black horse and two bags of gold, his longsword and a few daggers (something he knew that his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, made sure he received) from the men of the City Watch. At least the gold and the horse were better than travelling destitute and on foot, the young Prince mused. 

Currently seated in a tavern close to his inn near Harrenhal, Aemond quietly nursed a mug of thick brown ale, thinking of what he was to do next. Moving through Westeros was going to be difficult for the famous one-eyed Prince, his long, silvery mane and eye patch instantly revealing his identity, even among the common folk, even without his dragon, Vhagar. With his snowy curtain of hair tied away from his face and carefully hidden under the hood of his dark cloak, the Prince hoped that he was as inconspicuous as he could possibly be.

Aemond dearly missed his mother, his sister and his twin children. For all the petty grievances he had with his own kin, he recognised their value after being separated from them. He missed the love of his mother, the comfort of his sister and the way his children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, would light up upon seeing him. He could only hope and pray to the Gods that Aegon would not make his sister and his children suffer. In his heart, he knew that Queen Mother Alicent would make sure that Helaena and the twins remained unharmed. Confined, but unharmed.

He missed his dragon. Surrendering Vhagar to those dragonkeepers was one of the most heartbreaking and difficult things he had ever done. For a flash, Aemond was filled with such anger, at the moment of giving up Vhagar, that he wanted to command the dragon to burn all of King's Landing to the ground. But he restrained himself, restricting the almost overwhelming ache he felt in his heart when he thought of all the ones he had been forced to give up.

Right now, his only concern was to find out the truth about the author of the letters that had caused him to be exiled, which is why he awaited the arrival of a guest in this filthy tavern.

A whore, under the employ of the White Worm. One of her spies, she was, he had heard. One of the many spiders that ran along the intricate web the White Worm had woven across Westeros. Waif-like, with full lips, raven hair that ran down her back and olive skin, Aemond could tell that the girl was not a native of Westeros. Perhaps from one of the Free Cities?

"I'm deeply sorry for all the losses you've suffered, my Prince," she said and Aemond's mouth turned into a scowl at the way she openly used his title. A threat hanging in the air, essentially begging for him to be found out, kidnapped, robbed and even murdered, should anyone overhear this conversation. They'd find out his identity in a moment.

"I am nothing more than a traveller, making my way through the countryside," Aemond said, his sentence making the girl chuckle. "You might want to lower your voice, when we speak."

At this, the girl smiled, amusement dancing in her eyes. "What is it that you wish to know?" she asked.

"Who wrote those letters?"

"I do not know," she replied with a sigh, eyeing him like he was a piece of meat. "But I was disheartened to hear of the end of your betrothal, traveller. Perhaps I could warm your bed, if only for the night? I have many tricks you would enjoy. Your brother surely does."

Aemond's expression was one of disgust as he pulled out one of the bags of gold his mother had given to him and passed it to the girl. "I wish for none of your games, girl. Answer my questions and begone."

"Very well," the girl gleefully pocketed the gold before speaking. "You scorn a woman in the middle of the Narrow Sea and expect her not to strike back, traveller?"

Upon hearing this, Aemond inhaled sharply. Bile rose in his throat and he wanted to vomit. There were only three people in the world, who knew of his relationship with Helaena. Apart from his sister and himself, he had only confessed of his deepest secret to you, no one else. Over the years of being so intimately involved with Helaena, Aemond had ensured with utmost care that the illicit nature of his relationship with her remained a very closely guarded secret. He knew that it had to be you. He had a doubt, ever since he had read the letter, given how desperately you wanted to hear the confession in his own voice. But he had never imagined that you, his childhood friend, would weaponize his deepest secret to wound him so deeply. His heart was filled with immense pain, never having thought in his wildest dreams that you would be the one to betray him so.

"And where am I to find this woman?" he asked, trying to keep his composure, his hands clenching around his mug. "Dragonstone?"

At this, the girl laughed. "Your woman in question and your oldest nephew seek to treat with the Wolf of the North. Perhaps that's where you'll find them."

Aemond felt a sense of anger trickle into the mountain of agony crushing down on his heart. You were the cause of his exile. Your letter had led to his banishment. His separation from his mother, Helaena and his children. Your betrayal had cost him his reputation, his betrothal to the Baratheon girl. Your letters had turned the tide of this war in favour of Rhaenyra. Why had you done this? To prove your loyalty to the Blacks? To exact revenge for what he had done to you in your childhood?

"Thank you for your time," he said, rising to his feet and swiftly making his way to his horse. 

He had no time to lose. 

On dragonback, you would've flown to the North in a matter of hours. If he rode all through this day and the next, perhaps he'd be able to make it to Winterfell in time. If he made haste, he would be able to find you.

He wanted to see you confess your betrayal with your own words, he wanted to hear it in your own voice. But most of all, he wanted to know why you had decided to hurt him more severely and grievously than when his eye had been taken from him on that night in Driftmark. 

You sat beside Lord Cregan Stark and Prince Jacaerys, at a seat of high honour, during the welcoming feast in the Great Hall of Winterfell.

The arrival of not one, but two dragons and their riders in Winterfell was cause of much excitement amongst adults and children alike. While the children made a beeline to see your dragons, the adults pondered upon the reason for such an unexpected visit to the North.

The Wolf of the North was a kind and gentle man, seeing in Jacaerys his late younger brother, someone whom he had loved most dearly and lost. It brought a smile to your lips when you saw how well the oldest son of Queen Rhaenyra and the Lord of Winterfell had bonded, becoming thick as thieves over a matter of days. Jacaerys had a way about him that charmed almost everyone around him with his warmth and kindness. Lord Cregan was no exception, declaring himself to Queen Rhaenyra's cause and celebrating the newfound friendship between Houses Stark, Targaryen and Velaryon with days of hunts, tourneys and feasts.

You sat in your seat, nursing a cup of wine and trying so hard to get some food into yourself but finding yourself devoid of any appetite. Over the sounds of the music and the revelry, you could hear Lord Stark laugh at a jape Jacaerys had made, the words not even registering with your ears as you smiled politely nevertheless. Winterfell had pulled all the stops when it came to your welcome and you were surrounded, at the moment, with an expansive table laden with food. Roasted meats, honeyed chicken, ribs encrusted in herbs and garlic, mounds of baked potatoes and roasted onions dripping in gravy, trays upon trays of sweet and savoury pies, clay baked trout, a mountain of a variety of fruits and heaps of pastries were part of the feast, yet you were only picking at your slice of Lamprey pie, preferring the comfort of your wine to ease your mind.

It took everything in you to keep yourself from showing the utter emotional exhaustion that you felt, the muscles in your face screaming in protest at being forced to smile and laugh and utter pleasantries despite the torment you felt within.

I should be feeling happy, you thought. Relieved, that I have found the vengeance I so desperately sought. Why do I feel so horrible instead?

You felt sick to your stomach, weighed down by the guilt of your actions and their consequences affecting innocent souls like Helaena's children. Their bastardy had been no fault of theirs. You wondered if in your quest for soothing the rage and bitterness you felt against Aemond, you had gone too far in getting him exiled. You were all too aware of how much the third child of Alicent Hightower loathed being denied what he wanted most. He had wanted Helaena, he had wanted Vhagar and your letters had robbed him of them...

"Is everything to your liking, My Lady?" Cregan Stark's voice pulled you from the absolute mess of your thoughts, and you nodded at him, plastering on your sweetest smile.

"I thank you for your hospitality, My Lord," you replied, your tone impeccably correct.

You did not want to be ungrateful, you truly were struck by the kindness of the Lord of Winterfell. Sensing that you had been rather unprepared for the brutal cold of the North, Lord Cregan had an entire wardrobe of clothing commissioned for you. In your designated chambers you found cloaks, dresses, riding leathers and gloves, all made of the finest skins, the softest furs and the warmest wool you could ever lay eyes upon. A welcoming gift of sorts for you upon your arrival at Winterfell, Lord Cregan had informed you genially. It was a truly heartwarming gesture and you found yourself in awe of his thoughtfulness.

Equally thoughtful was Jacaerys, who's hand found yours underneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you well, sweet one?" he asked. "You look rather pale tonight."

"I'm fine, Jace," you said, smiling at him, knowing full well that he could see in your eyes exactly what concerned you.

"Well, since you are well," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin after a hearty swig of wine. "Would you owe me the pleasure of a dance?" he asked, extending you his hand.

As you placed your hand in his, you knew precisely what he meant by asking you for a dance. He wanted to speak to you in the midst of the chaos on the dance floor, away from the ears of Lord Cregan Stark.

Jacaerys held you firmly against him, an arm around your waist securing you to him as the two of you moved across the floor in a graceful arc.

You clung to him, feeling almost like you would slip away, dissolve into nothingness if he let go of you.

"It is him, isn't it? Still plaguing your mind?" Jacaerys asked, his words a whisper against your ear.

Gods, he truly knows me...

"I felt so sure about what I was doing when I wrote..." you sighed, trailing off mid sentence before finding your voice again. "Now I am wrought with anxiety and worry about his retribution."

"Sweet one," Jacaerys began, concern now apparent in his voice. "You weaken yourself by denying yourself food or sleep, worrying endlessly about a man who is now exiled by his own brother." 

"Jacaerys," you pleaded, trying to make him understand your fears. "He has a madness within him and my actions have robbed him of the things he holds dearest. He has nothing left to lose now. His impulsiveness will cost me." 

He could feel how you had stiffened against him, the distress and apprehension freezing your blood. 

Glancing at the table at the head of the hall and seeing Lord Stark occupied with speaking to his bannermen, Jacaerys tugged at your hand, leading you outside. 

To the Godswood. 

The two of you walked in silence, Jace walking a step ahead of you into the impenetrable night, away from the lights of the castle's fires. 

It had started snowing, adding more to the already existing mountains of frost that surrounded you. 

Underneath the weirwood tree, Jacaerys pulled you to him, his hands now finding home on your face. 

"I cannot see you torture yourself so," he said, thumbs stroking your cheekbones in calming circles. "I want you to take a deep breath and just listen to me." 

"Okay..." you did as he asked, inhaling a soothing breath before exhaling.

"My uncle and his family will pose no harm to you, sweet one. I swear this to you, this godswood, the old gods and the new being my witnesses." 

"Jacaerys..." You breathed. 

"No, let me finish, while I have the nerve to," he insisted and you remained silent. "I know you've closed your heart to love ever since he decided to break your heart. But it would be my greatest honour if you were to allow me to show you how incredible you truly are." 

You felt your breath hitch at his words. 

"Your kindness, curiosity and thirst for knowledge is what drew me to you, when we were children. But it was your warmth and the happiness your presence brought to my heart that bound me to you," he said, and you felt your heartbeat quicken at the urgency behind his words. "You heal people with just a touch, you've bound yourself to a dragon, learned the art of war and combat by my side and helped me win Winterfell. You single-handedly won droves of Houses to our side. When will you start to see yourself the way I do?" he asked. 

Closing your eyes, you felt his words wash over you. While it was true that you had always imagined someone else saying these things to you, it was Jacaerys who had finally given a voice to these words. You had ached for all these years for someone else to love you the way you loved him, but it was Jacaerys who was pouring his heart out to you in this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. 

Perhaps it was time for you to begin moving forward...

"So you don't think I'm beautiful?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you opened your eyes to see a smile break across the dark haired Prince's face.

You met him halfway, your mouths finding each other with a hunger that only became frenzied with each passing moment. Closing your eyes again, you kissed him with everything you had, remembering each time he had supported, reassured and protected you.

"You are the most beguiling woman I've ever seen," he breathed between kisses, backing you against the closest tree, his warm lips ghosting their way down your jaw to the column of your throat. "I'd consider myself the luckiest man alive if you gave me even a single night to worship you the way your beauty deserves to be worshipped..."

"Jace..." the moan slipped from your throat when he latched on to a sensitive spot on your neck, your arms finding their way around his broad shoulders.

Just hearing you utter his name with such a sinful intonation brought Jacaerys back to your lips, the ardour behind his kiss almost startling you with its desperation. For how long had he waited for this? Ached for this?

You hesitated to ask him this question, but seeing right through you, as always, Jacaerys breathed against your tingling lips. "For as long as you burned for him, I longed for you..."

"Jacaerys," you sighed. "You have me. You have me..."

"Gods be good, I don't think I can stand waiting until we reach back at the castle-"

"Come with me..." It was you who grasped his hand this time, leading him to a small, abandoned cabin a few yards deeper into the godswood, utterly and blissfully unaware of the cloaked figure watching the two of you, shrouded in darkness, a sliver of his silvery hair glowing in the moonlight.

Author's note: Sooooooo. What did you thinkkkk?

Part 7

[wcrriorhearts]

@cosmicacy said: ♡ + family — for Jaehaera!

Family is a very limited group of people for Jaehaera. It includes her mother, brothers, uncle, grandmother, great-grandsire and sometimes father, depending on his moods and sobriety. Nonetheless, she doesn't trust everyone equally and is only her true self in the presence of Jaehaery, Maelor and Helaena. She is extremely timid, withdrawn and almost mute around everyone else, rarely shows emotions and struggles with a lot of fears and worries, just like her mother. Jaehaerys and Helaena are the only people she opens up to when she is sad, afraid or upset. They are also the only people she craves physical comfort from, though exceptions happen, but they are just that, exceptions ( obvs might vary in different verses and with different muses ). In the presence of her family members, Jaehaera flourishes. She is a completely different child when she feels safe, bubbly and lively, very unlike the silent and stoic princess everyone else sees. Even when maids are around, she is never entirely relaxed, or herself. There is nothing she would not do for the people she loves the most and she is very, very attached to her twin and mother. Helaena and her are extremely alike in many ways and Jaehaera loves her dearly. Losing her and Jaehaerys was something she never got over and it ultimately led to her untimely demise. In later years, she will come to think of Aegon as something akin to family as well. Never quite as close as the people she lost, but still someone she knows well and who cares about her. They are both terrified, broken children when the war ends and he understands her suffering in a way that no one else does, which helps them bond.

[sapphire-writes]

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!OC

previous chapter ~ next chapter

Read more on AO3

fic summary: Elyse Baratheon is Princess Helaena’s childhood companion and closest friend. Jacaerys Velaryon has loved her since childhood. Aemond Targaryen loathes the idea of love. A Baratheon in the capital changes the Dance of Dragons, and the realm holds its breath.

chapter summary: Decisions are made about what to do about Daemon in the Riverlands. Elyse and Aemond quarrel.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: minors DNI, language, smut, possessiveness, jealousy, slapping

“They have not left their chambers,” Helaena told her mother as they broke their fast. The newlyweds were not expected to join the royal family, but it surprised Queen Alicent that she had yet to see them.

Alicent flushed scarlet nearly choking on her food. 

“Surely, that is not true,” Alicent said, nimble fingers drifting towards the star of the seven that lay against the hollow of her throat. The wedding between Prince Aemond and Lady Elyse had been well over a week prior. 

Helaena continued breaking her fast, nonchalantly. She did not read her mother’s distress as she smeared some jam onto a slice of bread. 

“I suppose they must leave, but they return rather quickly,” Helaena mused, taking a bite of bread. She was happy for her friend, and for her brother. 

“Well,” Alicent said, waving for the place settings to be removed, “a happy marriage it will be I suppose.”

Helaena nodded in agreement, as Aegon entered the room. Helaena’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as Alicent rose from the table to greet him, a delighted smile on her face. 

“You rarely join us,” she noted as Aegon sat down, grabbing a plate from a servant who had begun to clear off the table. He shoves bread into his mouth, chewing harshly. 

“That is because the last time I joined a family meal, I found a centipede in my wine glass,” he said between chews, glaring at his sister wife. Helaena’s eyes narrowed in return. 

 “We are always pleased by your presence, Aegon,” Alicent said, stroking her eldest son's silver hair. Aegon glanced up at his mother as he continued chewing, as though this was the first he heard of it. 

“Where are the little ones?” Aegon asked, noting the absence of his children. 

“With Tasha,” Helaena told him. Jaehara and Jaehaerys had grown from toddling babes to gangly children, filling the Red Keep with laughter. Jaehaera was still a quiet girl, and she clung to her twin brother everywhere he went. Aegon tapped the cup that sat in front of him with his fingers. 

“I intend to send Tasha with Elyse when she journeys to Storm’s End,” Helaena tells Aegon who groans. 

“When is that happening?” he asks, spearing a piece of meat with his knife. 

“Within the fortnight,” Helaena continues, “Elyse is rather fond of her, I thought the company would be enjoyable.”

“Who shall look after the children?” Aegon questions.

“There are others, Aegon,” Helaena assures him, though he has never inquired about the children’s caregivers before. She wonders if Aegon has taken Tasha as a lover as well, and is worried about missing her. 

Her brother’s paramours were of no concern to Helaena. She cared little about her brother’s doing unless they were aggressive in nature. Helaena and Aegon had done their duties to produce heirs and that was all. They enjoyed each other much more as siblings, than as husband and wife. 

“Is Aemond to travel with her?” Aegon asked, eyebrows coming together.

“I would assume so, he is her husband after all,” Helaena said, mouth turning to a frown at his question.  

Aegon shakes his head as he continues chewing. Alicent gives him a scolding motherly look, as though he is still a small child learning table manners. 

“That will not do, I need him here.”

“They shan’t be long,” Alicent says, sighing. 

“Daemon is terrorizing the Riverlands,” Aegon says, glaring at his mother, “he resides at Harrenhal and makes a mockery of the crown. I wish to send Aemond to see about him.”

Alicent bites her tongue so hard she tastes copper in her mouth. 

“Sending Aemond is unwise,” she advises, “Daemon is hardly terrorizing anyone, he is a guest of Lord Strong. Rhaenyra has all but accepted your terms.”

Aegon leans back in his chair. 

“And how long shall I wait to hear from my sweet sister?” he questions, “Until half the realm comes to her aid?”

“The realm knows its true king,” Alicent assures, “Rhaenyra shall kneel.”

Aegon gives his mother an incredulous look. Helaena is silent, staring at her plate. She does not argue with her mother about Rhaenyra. It is always fruitless. 

“You hold too much hope in your heart for her, mother,” Aegon says in a quiet voice. 

Alicent inhales, a pink blush appearing on the top of her cheeks. Sometimes when Aegon talks he sounds so much like Otto it frightens her. 

She stares back at her son, into the violet eyes of the boy she birthed when she was little more than a child. They hold each other’s gaze as though they are quarreling siblings, not mother and son. 

Aegon looks away first, continuing to eat. 

“Aemond shall journey to Haranhall first,” he insists, “then he may join his bride.”

Alicent watches her eldest son eat. She glances towards Helaena who has begun humming to herself. 

“Storms end, storms begin,” she murmurs and Alicent leaves the table. 

~~~

Aemond had met with his brother and the small council, which agreed with Aegon on sending Aemond to the Riverlands. Otto Hightower was growing increasingly impatient with Rhaenyra’s antics and reports of her sons flying throughout the realm. 

Always a man of duty, Aemond reluctantly agreed, knowing the change in plans would upset his new wife. Elyse would understand, though he knew she would be disappointed. 

Aemond waited in their shared chambers for Elyse to return from her afternoon stroll with Helaena in the gardens. They had hardly left their chambers since their wedding, and Aemond had encouraged her to spend time with her oldest friend. 

Aemond was reading by the fire when a knock came on the door. Jeyne entered, a wooden box in her grip. 

“Pardon me, you grace,” she said, curtseying, “I came to deliver this for Lady Elyse, it seems to have gotten lost in the transition.”

Aemond studied the handmaiden, watching as her eyes refused to meet his. 

“Thank you, Jeyne,” he said, forcing a tight smile.

“I should give it to her directly, your grace,” Jeyne insisted, cheeks reddening. 

Aemond studied her expression, confused by her statement. His eye flickered to the box then back to Jeyne’s fearful face. 

“You shall leave it here,” he told her, waving his hand towards the desk. Jeyne wet her lips, shifting from one foot to the other. She did not move. The prince raised a brow at her. 

“I shall not ask again,” he told her, voice cold. Jeyne released a shaky breath.

“Of course, your grace,” she mumbled, walking past him and leaving the box reluctantly on the desk. As she placed it down she did not remove her hands from it for a long moment. Finally, she removed her hands and gave Aemond a hasty bow before leaving the room. 

Aemond stood immediately, walking over to the desk. The box was a simple thing, and he unlatched it with ease revealing several scrolls of parchment, red wax seals split open. He picked one up, placing the seal together forming the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. 

He felt his stomach turn as his face twisted with displeasure. Aemond opened the letter he held, glancing over the words. The name that signed it. 

Jacaerys Velaryon.

Aemond pawed through the letters, seemingly hundreds of them that his wife had exchanged with his nephew throughout the years. 

Aemond’s jaw clenched, jealousy swimming through him, as he saw the signature was the same for each one. All from his nephew. All started and signed the same. 

My dearest. Ever yours.

The door opened and Elyse entered, looking lovely as ever, cheeks rosy from the cool air. She wore a green gown that accentuated her sapphire blue eyes. 

She smiled lovingly at her husband before her eyes fell to the chest on the table in front of him. The letter he currently had clenched within his fist. The veins of his hands were prominent with how tightly he held them. 

Elyse’s smile faltered, her forehead wrinkling with displeasure. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She hurried over to Aemond, tearing the parchment from his grip.

“Those are private,” she hissed, shoving the scattered pages back into the wooden box. Aemond watched her, eerily calm. Elyse slammed the lid shut, throwing the latch, the sound echoing throughout the room.

Her breathing came quickly, her chest rising and falling with anger. She glanced at her husband then. Aemond’s face hardened. 

“I always knew the bastard was infatuated with you-”

“He was not!” Elyse said, cheeks aflame. Embarrassment coursed through her. She had wondered where the chest had disappeared and had hoped to find it before something like this happened. 

Aemond tilted his head to the side at his beautiful, stubborn wife. 

“Do not lie to me,” he said, voice dangerously level, his words a sword held at her throat. 

“We are friends Aemond,” she assures him, face aflame with embarrassment, “we have always been friends, you are well aware of that.”

Aemond bites his tongue, his lips beginning to curl into a snarl. Jealousy was not a new emotion for Aemond to experience, though it was one he greatly detested. Especially when it came in regards to his wife. 

“Always friends?” he challenges, and Elyse feels her heart pounding.

“Yes.”

“Do you kiss all your friends?” he accuses bitterly, arms crossed.

Elyse’s mouth falls open at his jealousy. She is sure her face cannot be any more flushed, but she feels the heat creeping down her neck, humiliation dripping down her spine. 

“I was just a girl,” she hisses, looking away from him, “I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“I am your husband.”

“And I have not dishonored you!” Elyse shouts, feeling angry tears prickling behind her eyes, “Aemond, this was well before we were anything.”

She sees the hurt flash across his face before his expression quickly hardens. He knows she is right, and that he has no reason for his jealousy. But Aemond feels as though she has always belonged to him, she has always been his. 

He has watched them kiss, the day Jacaerys came to court for the council of Driftmark’s succession. Aemond had watched as Elyse froze as Jace pressed his lips against hers, how she pulled away first. Though he was mad with jealousy, he knew at that moment his nephew was not who she wanted.

Still, the thought of his nephew being infatuated with his wife, even after all these years, and you entertaining him through your letters, set his entire being aflame with jealousy. 

“You may be a married woman,” Aemond begins, walking closer to his wife, “but the bastard is still obsessed with you.”

Elyse furrows her brow, and her lips form a tight line as anger courses through her. She is beautiful like this, full of fury. Aemond brings a hand to her cheek, the other to her waist.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Aemond purrs, lifting her onto the desk. She looks down, confused at the shift in his mood. He has a possessive look in his eye as his fingers work the laces of her dress. His mouth finds her throat, sucking harshly on the smooth skin.

“My perfect girl,” Aemond murmurs, the vibration dancing across her skin. Elyse feels a thrill run through her as she reaches for him. 

“Aemond-” Elyse whimpered, still angry though her eyes flutter shut as his mouth caresses her.

“I’d be fucking infuriated as well. My poor nephew, who gets none of this,” he growled, moving his mouth towards her lips, barely kissing her. Elyse finds herself leaning into him, desperate for his mouth atop hers. 

Who does, my lady?” he asked, sneering, hands gripping her thighs, pulling them apart so he can stand between them. Aemond runs his hands up her thighs, pushing her skirts up. Elyse’s breathing turns to pants. 

“Who worships this body?” he asks, fingers digging into her hips. 

Aemond brings a hand to her face, gripping her jaw painfully as he moves to nip her throat. There will be love bites adorning her neck tomorrow, noticeable ones. 

“You, my prince.” Elyse breathes causing Aemond to hum with pleasure.

“Who does this cunt belong to?”

Elyse’s face scrunches at his crude remark. She pushes against him suddenly, and he looks at her with a wild gleam in his lavender eye.  

“You’re being wretched.”

“Strike me then, go on.”

Elyse’s eyes widened at his request. She did slap him once, on her own accord when he was being particularly cruel. She remembered the look in his eye, the words he spoke after. That is not the slight you intend it to be. Elyse waits a moment before he nods at her in encouragement. She brings her hand to slap him on the cheek.

His face breaks into the grin of a man gone mad. He wraps his hand in her hair, tugging her head backward, almost painfully so, causing Elyse to cry out.  

“Who does this cunt belong to?” he repeats, his voice a growl. 

“Aemond, you,” she whimpers. Aemond pulls her hair harshly, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“Only me.”

“Only you.”

“Fuck,” he says, panting, “you’re so sweet, my darling Elyse.” His fingers tear at the lace front of her dress, ripping the fabric open. Elyse gasps in surprise.

“That was a gift from your mother,” she scolds. 

“I’ll buy you another.” he snarled, springing her breasts free, continuing to split the fabric of her dress down the middle. Elyse was desperate for him, so much so it frightened her, as her hands found his breeches pulling them downwards. 

His cock, now freed, slapped against his stomach, the tip weeping. 

“Take me, take me now,” Elyse begged, knowing Aemond liked to take his time with her. She couldn’t stand it right now. She needed him now. Elyse raised herself on her palms as Aemond tore away her small clothes. 

He captured her lips in a heated kiss, as her hand reached down to help his own guide his cock to her throbbing center. Once sheathed within her, the couple both let out a groan as he begins fucking her relentlessly, her dress a mess of tattered ribbons around her.

 “Aemond, please I-” Elyse began with tears in her eyes. Aemond smiled as Elyse cried out, her walls clenching around him. He held her hips firmly, snapping his own against her. 

“Oh Aemond please,” she begged. 

“What does my sweet girl want?” he purred, and Elyse felt her toes curl from pleasure. 

“Please I need-” Elyse said, unsure what she needed. All she could feel was Aemond, just Aemond slamming into her again and again. A coil of pressure built in her lower stomach ready to snap. 

“Anything,” Aemond said breathlessly. “I’ll give you anything.” He reached between her legs towards the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Using her slick his long fingers worked the sensitive nub and Elyse fell apart against him with a scream. As her walls fluttered around him, he found his release, emptying himself into her. 

They lay against each other in comfortable silence. Aemond places kisses up her chest, toward her neck before meeting her lips. 

“I am sorry,” he mumbles against her lips. Elyse tangles her hands in his hair.

“I know,” she assures him as he nuzzles against her, as she feels his cock soften within her. Her friendship with Jacaerys was not something that would be easily maintained as Aemond’s wife. This she was sure of. 

“I wish you did not have to go,” Elyse admitted, fingers tracing mindless patterns on his shoulders. 

“I shall be with you in Storm’s End before you know it,” he assured, lacing his fingers through hers and pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles. 

“You shall be careful?”

“The small council does not wish for war,” he tells her, “they still have hope Rhaenyra will concede peacefully.”

“And Prince Daemon?”

“A simple mission to see what his business in the Riverlands is about. I shan’t linger there.”

She tries to hide her disappointment at the thought of returning to Storm’s End without him. Elyse met his eye. 

“I shall miss you,” she tells him and he hums in agreement. 

“When my sister bends the knee, we need never be parted again,” Aemond assures her, causing Elyse to smile. 

She wishes they could stay like this, limbs intertwined. Connected together in the safety of their chambers. Here, in these chambers, nothing bad can touch them.

Aemond leaves at first light for Harrenhal. Elyse does not wake up when he kisses her goodbye. When she does finally wake, Aemond’s side of the bed is cold.

[sapphire-writes]

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon OC

Summary: Elyse receives an invitation and must decide what it is she wants most in this world.

Warnings: Aegon being Aegon 😬

previous chapter, next chapter

Chapter 9: The Invitation

My dearest, Elyse,

The days grow colder here on Dragonstone. The nights seem endless, it seems winter is truly coming at last. It makes me think of you and our summer childhood. How lucky were we to grow up under the warm summer sun? Lady Baela and I are to wed a moon from now. If you are still frequenting King’s Landing during that time, I would be honored to have you visit Dragonstone to attend. I have missed your presence in all earnest. I understand you have a suitor in Lord Maceon Tyrell. A fine choice, should you accept. Highgarden would greatly suit you. 

Lucerys and Joffrey send their love, as do Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena.

I do hope to see your face soon.

Ever yours,

Jacaerys Velaryon

The last of the dragon’s breath had withered and wilted, ruby kisses pressed against the stone floor of Jaehaera’s bedchamber. 

The young princess had taken to collecting the petals and pressing them between the pages of the books Elyse had read to her. If Elyse had thought she enjoyed the flowers in full bloom, it appeared Jaehaera was even more impressed as they began to decay. 

She held her hand out, a scarlet petal presented to Elyse, who smiled at her over her letter from Jace.  

“It is lovely,” she told her and Jaehaera closed her small fingers around it, crushing the petal.

Helaena sat across the room, rocking Maelor’s cradle with her foot. She smiled as she heard Elyse talking to her daughter. 

Elyse sat on the floor, cross-legged, with another scroll atop her lap, that was sealed with a golden rose. Helaena’s eyes flickered from the scroll to her friend’s face. 

Grand Maester Orwyle had delivered the letter personally, a knowing smile on his face. The Red Keep had been abuzz with chatter about Elyse Baratheon’s suitor. 

She had heard several stories from the other ladies of court, whispers of gossip about Lord Maceon Tyrell. What a romantic man he was, how he enjoyed singing. How the Baratheon and the Tyrell would not only be a great alliance but a pleasing match together at that. 

“What says my nephew?” Helaena asked. She had always been fond of Jace. 

Elyse smiled.

“He wishes my attendance at his wedding if you can believe that,” Elyse said to her friend. 

Helaena only smiled, returning to Maelor. 

“Ever the gentlemen, Jacaerys Velaryon,” she mused. Elyse chuckled in agreement, folding the letter and placing it in the pocket of her skirt, not moving the second letter. 

“You’ll have to open it sooner or later,” Helaena called to her. 

Elyse looked at her friend, swallowing the lump that began to form in her throat. Helaena cocked an eyebrow. 

“Perhaps if I do not, nothing shall change.”

Elyse wished desperately this could be true. She wanted nothing more than to sit on the floor with Jaehara, listen to Helaena’s soft coos to baby Maelor, and wait for winter to come. 

“So many thorns,” Helaena murmured, staring at her baby in the cradle.

Elyse looked down at the scroll on her skirt. 

She did not want to cry, but she felt a terrible pain in her chest over her heart. She tore the letter open. 

My lady, Elyse,

Receiving your letter has brought me a tremendous feeling of joy. Though I feared it was too extravagant, it pleases me that you enjoyed the array of flowers. You deserve nothing less. I wish to be forward with you, as I am planning to send word to your father proposing a betrothal between us. With his blessing, I shall unite our houses and invite you to journey swiftly to Highgarden where we will become one before the gods. I look forward to your presence among the blossoms. I feel the Reach will suit you elegantly. 

Yours,

Lord Maceon Tyrell

Elyse felt her heart drop. Jaehaera dropped several dragon’s breath petals on the parchment, obscuring the words. The small Targaryen child stared at Elyse as though she knew exactly what the letter had said and what it meant. 

“Well?” Helaena asked, as though she already knew. 

“He wishes me to join him at Highgarden,” Elyse began, “he intends on writing to my father for his blessing.”

Helaena stopped rocking the cradle. She rose from her seat and joined her companion on the floor, taking Elyse’s wrists into her hands. Her violet eyes were wide.

“And what do you wish for?” she asked, lavender eyes staring intently at Elyse. 

A raven from Highgarden to Storm’s End. A few days at most and it would arrive. Lord Borros was not one to frequently check his mail, which would give her a few more days if she were lucky. A few more days to do what, she did not know. Ponder the idea of becoming the lady of Highgarden? A feat eligible maidens would happily grapple for. 

Elyse wished Helaena would take her on Dreamfyre. She wished she could brave the blue she-dragon and fly across the narrow sea to feast on lemon cakes and wine. To lay in the sun of the free cities. To gorge herself on history, art, and any other pleasures the known world had to offer. She wanted-

“It does not matter what I wish,” Elyse said before her thoughts could run completely wild, breaking eye contact with Helaena. 

“It does,” Helaena insisted, knowing her friend. 

“What else am I to do?” Elyse said desperately. 

Helaena released Elyse’s wrists, sitting back atop her heels. 

Queen Alicent entered the chambers suddenly, green skirts sending a wave of red petals scattering in different directions. Jaehaera clapped but remained unsmiling. 

“Mother,” Helaena said as Alicent assessed the two ladies on the floor. 

“What are you doing, my loves?” Alicent asked, approaching them.

Helaena looked towards Elyse. 

“I have been invited to Highgarden,” Elyse told the Queen.

Alicent’s eyebrows shot up and she brought a hand to her chest, fingers grazing the star of the Seven that lay against the hollow of her throat. She stretched her other hand out towards Elyse who took it, standing. Elyse passed the scroll into Alicent’s hand. 

“Oh my darling,” Alicent said, a look of happiness on her face as she read, “such wonderful news.” 

Elyse forced a smile for her adopted mother. 

“We shall celebrate tomorrow night, while we sup,” Alicent assured her and Elyse felt her eyes widen. 

“Truly there is no need-”

“Nonsense,” Alicent said, her tone insistent. “This is a blessing from the Maiden and we shall treat it as such.”

Elyse swallowed her nerves. 

Alicent’s eyes were kind. 

“You have been a second daughter to me. It pains me greatly to think of you leaving. Though I want nothing but happiness for you, my dove.” Alicent told her, a sad smile on her face. Elyse’s heart ached. 

Alicent watched the tearful lady in front of her, seeing so much of herself in the dark-haired beauty. 

“My family hails from the Reach as you know, and Daeron still resides in Oldtown. We must visit Highgarden when you are wed,” Alicent promised, brushing the hair out of Elyse’s face. 

Elyse felt her tears about to spill over her cheeks. 

“Will father be joining us?” Helaena asked, causing Alicent to cast her gaze toward the floor. King Viserys had not risen from his bed since the departure of Princess Rhaenyra several moons ago. Elyse had helped Helaena bring the twins and baby Maelor to see him recently and his condition seemed to have worsened.

“He is not well, my love,” Alicent told her, and Helaena’s mouth formed a tight pout. 

Dinner was a quiet affair in the Queen’s chambers. The table was intimately small, full of plates of meat, fruits, and bread. The room was aglow with hundreds of candles. Even Aegon had joined to see her off apparently. 

Elyse was to be shipped off to the Reach on the morrow. Queen Alicent had a carriage arranged to escort her there, along with several gold cloaks. The journey would take her around eighteen days to complete. It was all but confirmed that Lord Borros would accept the betrothal, and when he did his daughter would already be in Highgarden awaiting to be wed. 

Aemond did not look at her. The entirety of dinner she tried to catch his eye. The avoidance of his gaze was unforgiving. 

Though his face revealed nothing, Aemond was seething under the surface. The blood of the dragon boiled in his veins at the thought of that pathetic flower lord taking Elyse to his wife. Jealousy seared through him at the thought of them together. The whispers he had heard throughout court. Such a handsome pair they would make, lords and ladies had crooned. The doe and the rose. 

Elyse started at the side of his head, hoping Aemond could feel her eyes on him. 

Part of her was thankful Aemond would not meet her eyes, lest it reminds her of the pleasure she claimed at the thought of him several nights past. Her cheeks reddened as she remembered. 

Queen Alicent later excused herself though dinner was not yet finished. A servant had brought word that King Viserys had been asking for her in his delirium. She excused herself with haste.

“I shall make sure to see you off personally, at dawn,” she had told Elyse, stroking her hair.

It was just the four of them left. What an odd bunch they were, three silver-crowned royals and a midnight lady. It felt odd to Elyse, that they were all grown. She wished to retreat into her childhood and rest there for the night. 

“I will say,” Aegon said, breaking the silence, a cheeky grin on his face. His face was red from the Arbor gold in his cup. One of several he had consumed over the course of the evening.

“I shall miss that pretty face among the hens of the Keep.”

Elyse shifted her jaw, biting her tongue. She missed the days when Aegon’s jests were easier to stomach. He seemed braver when his mother was out of the room as well. 

Aemond’s fingers tapped the table incessantly, eyepatch towards Elyse. 

Aegon downed the remainder of his chalice, letting the cup land on the table, wobbling slightly with the force of his release. He leaned forward on his elbows, resting his face on his fingers. Helaena examined a spoon closely, peering into the distorted mirror image of herself. 

“I wonder if you’ll accept a parting gift from a young prince?” he asked, eyes glassy.

Elyse’s eyes flickered toward Aemond. The one-eyed prince said nothing. Helaena stared deeply into her spoon. 

“There is a dragon caught in a storm,” she murmured under her breath. 

“A gift, my prince?” Elyse answered, determined to not let her voice shake. Something about Aegon’s leering had always gotten under her skin. Aegon smiled at her. 

“What sort of gift?”

“Flowers wilt in the rain, ruined by gnashing teeth,” Helaena whispered.

“Take me to your chambers and I’ll happily show you.”

Elyse's heartbeat quickened, and her hands curled into fists in her lap. Do not offend him, she begged herself. Elyse could feel her blood boiling but she would not lose her temper. He would not get that satisfaction from her. 

She was angry and embarrassed and clearly very alone. Helaena was in her own world mumbling about dragons in storms, and Aemond wanted nothing to do with her. She forced a tight smile. 

“That is a very generous offer, my prince. But the hour is late. I must rest before the long journey.”

Aegon chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair causing the wood to creak. 

“My cock works better than dreamwine, tastes better too.”

“Careful, brother,” Aemond spoke harshly for the first time that evening. 

“You are speaking to a noble lady.”

Elyse felt her heart sing with his words. Aegon’s eyes flickered between Aemond and Elyse. His smile only grew, as though he had uncovered a secret. He began to giggle and clapped his hands together, leaning back in his chair. 

“Has she already had a taste of Targaryen cock, then?” 

Aemond pushed back his chair and stood with impressive speed. He grabbed Aegon by the collar, yanking him out of his seat. 

“You always were selfish brother, no matter how generous I was with my wh-” Aegon was cut off as Aemond lifted him into the air before slamming him down onto the table on his back. 

Helaena cried out, placing her hands over her ears, spoon forgotten. Elyse had pushed herself backward in her seat, eyes wide. Both ladies shouted Aemond’s name. Aegon’s maniacal laughter continued. 

“You are a swine,” Aemond said through his teeth, anger rolling off his tensed shoulders. 

Aegon responded with a noise that sounded uncannily like the squealing of a pig. 

“Brother,” Helaena begged, and Aemond released him, backing away from the table and rubbing his hand over his jaw. His only regret was upsetting his sweet sister. 

Aegon laughed some more, rolling on the table until he slipped off the edge, cups, and cutlery spilling to the floor, clanging off the stones. 

“You always were a gentleman,” Aegon mused from the floor. Aemond glared at his brother, a murderous expression on his face. 

“I doubt you fucked her, even if she spread her le-” it was Elyse who cut him off this time, though Aemond released a roar ready to attack his elder brother again.

“That’s enough, Aegon!” she shouted, unsure if her face was red from embarrassment or anger. 

Aemond looked at her for the first time that evening. She had risen from her seat. Elyse’s chest and face were flushed, brow furrowed in anger, teeth bared looking more so the role of a predator than prey. Storm clouds seemed to gather in her blue eyes. Her small hands were clenched into fists by her sides. 

Aemond wondered if Elenei was under her skirts, waiting for the chance to be unsheathed. Princeslayer, she could become. Aemond would kneel before her to clean her blade with his tongue.  

Aegon clashed his teeth together, the sound of an empty bite filling the room. Helaena shook her head, putting a hand to her mouth and chewing the skin around her thumb. 

“Such fury,” Aegon mocked, and Elyse started towards him. It was as if they were children again. Elyse lost all sense of status. Aegon was simply a bully. 

“I see why you enjoy her, brother,” he continued as Elyse brought her foot down upon his forearm. Aegon cried out at the pressure she applied, but the smile never left his face. 

“I said, enough,” Elyse hissed, and the prince moved to grab her ankle. Aemond was quicker, sending a swift kick to his ribs. Only then did Aegon’s smile fade as he groaned with the impact of the blow. 

“It was all in good fun,” he groaned, clutching his side and writhing on the floor.  

“I wish you would hold your tongue,” Helaena spoke, moving to embrace Elyse.

“Such vulgar remarks, and on her last night here,” Helaena had tears in her eyes, her lower lip wobbling. Elyse consoled her companion, as Aegon coughed from the floor attempting to return to his feet.  

“You’re the ones who got so upset,” Aegon sneered, reaching for another cup. He raised the glass towards Elyse, scarlet liquid sloshing over the sides and onto the floor.

“Do not hesitate to call on me, Lady Elyse,” Aegon said, flinching as Aemond made a move to lunge at him. Aegon giggled maniacally and exited the room. Elyse’s stomach twisted as she could hear his laughter echoing throughout the corridor. 

Aemond waited a moment before huffing and following his brother’s leave. He did not say goodbye, nor did he spare Elyse a second glance. 

As Elyse left the Queen’s chambers to return to her quarters she felt that familiar hollow pain throb in her chest. 

She walked down the hall, feet leaving soft footsteps to echo throughout. She let her hand wander towards the wall to lazily trail over the rough stones. The walls she had walked all her life. Perhaps she could mesmerize the feeling of them in her fingertips. She feared she would forget the feeling, the scent of the wet stones. 

As she progressed further down the corridor she found herself wandering past the door of her bedchamber. She decided she was not ready for sleep. She didn’t want to dream. She didn’t want to lay in her bed, to claim her pleasure once again for a man who was not her betrothed. Her betrothed. 

Maceon Tyrell would soon be her lord husband. She didn’t know why her heart ached with the thought. He was kind, he had been sweet to her. He would be a good, gentle husband. She would be a beautiful lady among the flowers. Poets may write songs about her.

Her fingers hit wood. The door to the library. The altar she worshiped at, though she would never say that aloud as Septa Marla would scold her for her sacrilege. She opened the door and crept inside. 

Not a candle in sight. The library was lit by moonbeams that rained through the arched windows, the soft sound of parchment rustling in the cool night’s breeze. Elyse felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, gooseflesh beginning to blossom with the chill. 

What was wrong with her? Why could she not be excited to journey to Highgarden? She felt as though she was failing at being a lady. She let her fingers dance over the spines of the books that lined the shelves. 

A heartbeat later the door behind her clicked open once more and Aemond Targaryen entered the library. She turned as he pressed the door closed. She could just make out the shape of him before he stepped towards her into the moonlight.

My prince,” she said, nodding towards the floor. He said nothing, standing in the moonlight. 

“The hour is late, I must retire to my chambers,” she told him when he did not speak. Aemond continued to be silent. 

“My prince?” she asked in a desperate plea. Aemond’s jaw twitched at her words, and his fingers flexed. 

“You are to be married soon, yet you still call so prettily to me,” he murmured and Elyse felt her mouth go dry. Even now, he would not cease his torment.

“What would your betrothed flower lord say?”

Elyse felt tears prick in her eyes and bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

“He is not my betrothed,” Elyse whispered, but Aemond clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Can’t say that anymore.” 

“It is true,” Elyse insisted, but she felt foolish. Like a small child demanding to get her way. She could see Aemond’s tongue moving over his teeth. 

“The ravens fly for Storm’s End. Nothing to be done now,” Aemond said, reaching out to touch the fabric of her dress. 

“Unless of course, you plan to take my brother up on his offer.”

Elyse slapped him before she realized. Her eyes were wide, palm stinging. Aemond had barely moved from the blow. He turned his face back to her and his pupil was blown, nearly encompassing the violet entirely. He smiled lazily at her. 

“That is not the slight you intend it to be.”

Elyse raised her hand to strike him again. He caught her wrist, fingers wrapping around it entirely. Elyse scrunched her face in anger as she raised her other hand, only to be trapped again. Aemond pressed into her then, pushing her against the bookshelves. Hot, angry tears spilled down her cheeks. 

“Let me go.”

“No,” he said, face inches away from hers. He watched the tears roll down her cheeks, her chest rising and falling with her panting breath. He wished to lick the salty streams from her cheeks. 

“What do you want?” Elyse demanded, Aemond’s eye finding its way to her lips. “It is about time we stopped this dalliance.”

“I do not know what dalliance you speak of,” he answered. 

“You’re impossible,” Elyse told him, at her wit's end. 

Aemond flexed his fingers around her wrists, head cocking to the side. 

“You speak nonsense.”

Elyse cocked an eyebrow at him, an incredulous half-smile sliding on her face. She felt as though she had nothing to lose. 

“Do I? Perhaps I should invite Prince Aegon to my chambers after all then,” she goaded, causing Aemond’s grip on her wrists tightens, a growl rumbling low in his chest. Elyse was startled at his reaction, the primal rage in his eye. As though she belonged to him. As though she was his.

“Stop this game,” Elyse demanded, fearful of the passion in his eye. Of the way he looked at her even though she was destined to leave the capital at the break of day. 

“You talk as though you’ve played no part.”

Elyse’s cheeks darkened as she avoided his gaze. Aemond reveled in her reaction claiming a victory, his breeches feeling suddenly excruciatingly constricting. 

Aemond released the grip on her left wrist, letting his hand fall to her shoulder. His fingers dug painfully into her collarbone causing Elyse to release a breathy moan. Aemond felt his jaw slack at the sound. He leaned forward into her. 

“Have you not enjoyed it?” he taunted, his voice a seductive whisper. She could feel the sharp curve of his nose pressing into a sensitive spot below her ear. Elyse struggled to keep her composure, digging her fingers into his bicep. The hard muscle rippled under her touch.

The feeling of his thumb pressing into the dip of her throat made her head spin. She could feel his breath on her face and her hand that was still entrapped above her head curled into a fist. His teasing words made something deep within her flutter. 

“It is over then?” Elyse asked through her teeth. 

Aemond hummed, letting his hand ghost down the side of her breast following her ribs, down the curve of her waist until he reached her outer thigh. It took every ounce of self-control not to let her eyes roll into the back of her head. 

His large hand pressed into the meat of her thigh, she could feel the cool metal of Elenei’s handle dig into her. 

Aemond let out a breathless laugh as he felt the blade, before curling his fingers into her thigh hoisting her leg up against him, allowing himself more room to press himself closer to her. Ours is the fury indeed. 

Elyse choked out a breath with Aemond’s movement as he held her open against the shelves. Elyse bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he pressed his leg against her center, warmth pooling between her legs. Seven hells. 

“Unless you’d prefer to continue,” Aemond said, voice low and reverberating through his chest.

“Take me then,” Elyse challenged, unsure of where her sudden bravery had come from. Aemond met her gaze. 

“Take me to wife,” Elyse begged, her heart on display for him. Aemond watched her carefully, eye searching her face for any sense of falsehood in the statement. Aemond could sense ill intentions like a hound catches a scent. He found none in her pleading eyes. 

Suddenly, he released his grip on her, peeling his body from hers. Aemond took a step back and shook his head sharply as if waking himself from a dream. Elyse was trembling.

He had gone too far if she was speaking of leaving her flower lord. He looked at her and she was beautiful. Her hair was darker than the midnight sky and disheveled around her face. 

Doe-eyed and lips plush, waiting for him to kiss her. To ruin her. And he wanted to. Seven hells did he want to give himself to her. Aemond’s mind clawed to its last bit of sanity. 

“He shall make you happier than I ever could,” he told her, though it pained him to do so.

The silence between them lay heavy. 

“I do not believe that.”

He could have kissed her. Aemond instead bit his tongue. 

“Then you are a foolish girl.” 

Elyse flinched at the insult, his words slicing through her. She was suddenly a child again, reaching towards him as he pulled away yet again.

“Stop it.”

“A foolish child then.”

“And you are a coward.”

Aemond bared his teeth with rage but Elyse did not care. She was seething with anger. Never had she felt so used, so tormented to the point of exhaustion. She hated him. She despised him at the moment. He closed the space between them once more, nostrils flared with anger. Elyse kept her chin held high. 

“You’re a coward, Aemond Targaryen,” she hissed, hoping the words wounded him as much as he had hurt her. 

Aemond could see the pain behind the anger in her eyes. He did not deserve the affection she offered him. He swallowed a lump beginning to form in his throat. He would do her this kindness. 

“Go to the Reach, Elyse,” Aemond growled, his breath wafting over her face making her head spin once more. 

“I shall.” 

“Become another flower for his collection.”

“Better his flower than your….,” she said through her teeth, not finishing her sentence. She did not know what she was to him.

The dragon and the doe held each other’s gaze. 

“Then go,” he hissed, and Elyse pushed past him leaving the library. 

Aemond stood in the moonlight for several moments after Elyse had fled. 

Hot tears flowed down Elyse’s face as she blindly threw herself into her chambers. 

She grabbed the chair at her desk for some stability and reached for the scroll on her desk. She tore it wildly, eviscerating any evidence that Lord Maceon had written to her at all. 

Aemond did not want her. Not in any way that mattered. The rejection stung Elyse’s heart, it felt more painful and rawer than when Jace became betrothed. 

Elyse found sleep deep into the dead of night when it seemed she was unable to cry any longer. 

Somewhere across King’s Landing, the mournful lament of a dragon filled the starry sky.

As the hour of the wolf came, the Red Keep was silent with the promise of many changes hanging in the air. 

Queen Alicent had just left her husband to return to her own chambers when with a final breath, King Viserys I departed the known world with the Stranger. 

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