#oc: reilla

[nixiefics]

Fire and Runes - Chapter Three

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OC (Reilla)

Tropes: Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Targaryen typical incest, smut, canon typical violence and death, swearing, drinking

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was a marvel of opulence and grandeur, transformed into a feast hall worthy of the newly crowned King and Queen Consort. Torches flickered on the stone walls, casting a warm golden glow that danced across the tapestries depicting scenes of Targaryen triumphs. Long tables stretched the length of the hall, laden with an extravagant array of dishes that spoke to the richness of the realm.

At the high table, Aegon and Reilla sat in places of honour, their chairs adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and their house sigils. Reilla's white gown shimmered in the firelight, the wedding cloak draped over her shoulders adding a touch of bronze to her otherwise pristine ensemble. Aegon, in his dark green tunic that nearly appeared black, exuded a regal presence, his eyes bright with the excitement of the day.

The feast had begun with a flourish, the first course arriving to a chorus of applause from the assembled lords and ladies. Platters of roasted boar, glazed with honey and cloves, sat alongside capons stuffed with chestnuts and figs. Freshly baked trout, swimming in rich almond sauce, and a whole roasted stag garnished with rosemary and lemons showcased the culinary expertise of the Red Keep’s kitchens. Bowls of exotic fruits from the Reach, wheels of cheese from the Riverlands, and baskets of warm, crusty bread completed the spread.

Servants moved gracefully among the tables, filling goblets with Arbor gold and Dorne’s finest wines. The air was thick with the mingling aromas of roasted meats and sweet pastries, creating an atmosphere of indulgence and celebration.

Lords and ladies approached the high table to offer their congratulations. Lord Baratheon, his face alight with pride, toasted the health and prosperity of the newlyweds. "To King Aegon and Queen Reilla," he proclaimed, his voice ringing through the hall. "May your reign be long and prosperous, and may your union bring peace to the realm."

Reilla smiled graciously, raising her goblet in response. "Thank you, Lord Baratheon," she replied, her voice carrying across the hall. "We are honoured by your presence and your kind words."

Lady Reyne, her expression warm and familial, approached next. "My dear Queen Reilla," she said, embracing her gently. "You are such a credit to House Targaryen – beauty, grace and fire enough to survive this lot at court."

"Thank you, Lady Reyne," Reilla replied, her voice filled with genuine affection. "Your support means a great deal."

As the night progressed, Aemond made his way to Reilla’s side. His keen eyes took in the bustling hall, always observant and calculating. "Congratulations, my Queen," he said, his tone respectful. "A splendid feast and an even finer match."

"Thank you, Aemond," Reilla replied, meeting his gaze with equal respect. "I trust the feast is to your liking?"

"Indeed," Aemond nodded. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowered. "But feasts aside, there are matters of the realm to consider. I have heard whispers of unrest in the Riverlands."

Reilla's expression grew serious. "I have heard the same. What do you suggest?"

"Sending envoys to reassure the lesser lords would be wise," Aemond advised lowly, eyes flicking to his brother. "Remind them of the benefits of unity under the crown. And an envoy with Lord Larys to secure Harrenhal – Daemon would be setting his eyes on it as a seat of power…"

Reilla nodded, brows furrowing thoughtfully. "I will speak with Aegon about it. Thank you for your counsel, Aemond."

Their conversation was interrupted by the musicians striking up a lively tune. Aegon turned to Reilla with a warm smile, extending his hand. "Shall we dance, my queen?"

"It would be my honour, my king," Reilla replied, her heart fluttering with excitement as she placed her hand in his.

The guests parted, creating a space in the centre of the hall for the royal couple. As the music swelled, Aegon and Reilla began to dance, their movements graceful and perfectly in sync. The hall seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, united in their shared joy and love.

Reilla felt a thrill of excitement as they twirled and swayed, her gown flowing around her like a silken cloud. Aegon’s touch was warm and reassuring, and his smile filled her with a sense of belonging and contentment. The guests watched with admiration and delight, raising their goblets in tribute to the couple’s happiness.

As the dance came to an end, Aegon leaned in to whisper in Reilla’s ear, his breath warm against her skin. "You are truly radiant tonight, my queen. I am the luckiest man in the realm to have you by my side."

Reilla’s heart swelled with affection and pride. "And I am the luckiest woman, to be loved by a king as noble and kind as you."

They returned to their seats, the hall resuming its festive atmosphere. The night continued with more music, laughter, and camaraderie. Lords and ladies approached the high table, offering their congratulations and well-wishes. Ser Criston Cole, with his stoic demeanour, gave a respectful nod. "Your Grace, Your Majesty," he said. "May your reign be strong and just."

"Thank you, Ser Criston," Aegon replied, his tone sincere. "Your loyalty and service are invaluable to us."

Lady Redwyne, known for her sharp wit and keen political mind, approached next. "A splendid match, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I hope you are ready for the challenges of marriage."

"Thank you, Lady Redwyne," Reilla replied with a smile. "I do believe we are."

Aegon leaned towards Reilla, his eyes filled with admiration. "You handle these interactions with such grace."

Reilla smiled warmly. "It helps to have a strong and supportive king by my side."

As the evening wore on, the feast continued in full swing. Plates were refilled, goblets never emptied, and the laughter of the nobility echoed through the hall. Aegon and Reilla found moments to themselves amidst the revelry, their connection growing stronger with each passing hour.

Aegon caught sight of Aemond speaking with a group of lords, his demeanour calm and authoritative. Reilla followed his gaze. "He is a formidable politician," she remarked.

"Indeed," Aegon agreed. "His counsel is invaluable. And I am glad you get along well."

Reilla nodded. "We understand the importance of unity in these times."

Later in the evening, as the musicians began a slower, more intimate tune, Aegon took Reilla’s hand once more. "Shall we dance again?"

Reilla’s eyes sparkled with delight. "I would love to."

They moved to the centre of the hall, the fellow dancers watching with admiration as they danced together. The music swirled around them, creating a bubble of intimacy amidst the grand celebration. Aegon’s hands were firm and sure, guiding Reilla through the steps, his eyes never leaving hers.

"This feels like a dream," Reilla whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

"It is real," Aegon replied softly. "And it is just the beginning."

As the dance came to an end, the guests erupted into applause, their cheers filling the hall. Aegon and Reilla returned to their seats, their hearts full and their bond stronger than ever.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall of the Red Keep was electric, buzzing with the excitement of the wedding feast. The lords and ladies of the realm had gathered to celebrate the union of Aegon and Reilla, filling the room with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. The air was rich with the aromas of the feast: roasted boar, spiced lamb, honeyed ham, and a cornucopia of fruits and sweetmeats that adorned the long tables.

As the night wore on, a particularly boisterous lord, well into his cups, called out, “To the bedding ceremony!” His declaration was met with a mix of cheers and laughter from the crowd, though a few raised eyebrows and disapproving glances were also cast.

Helaena, sensing the growing tension, stepped forward with a loud and deliberate clap of her hands. “Enough of that,” she said, her voice cutting through the din. “I wish to dance with my brother Aemond.”

Her interruption was perfectly timed, and the attention of the guests quickly shifted. The hall echoed with murmurs of approval as Helaena’s boldness provided the perfect distraction.

Taking advantage of the moment, Reilla leaned close to Aegon, her breath warm against his ear. “Now’s our chance,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Aegon grinned, catching onto her plan. “Then let’s make our escape,” he replied, his voice filled with playful excitement.

Hand in hand, they slipped from the dais and darted through the crowd, Reilla leading the way. The corridors of the Red Keep stretched out before them, dimly lit by torches flickering in their sconces. Aegon, unable to resist the moment, slowed his pace, letting Reilla pull ahead just enough for him to start chasing her playfully.

“Where do you think you’re going, my queen?” he called out, laughter in his voice. “You can’t escape me!”

Reilla glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Catch me if you dare!” she teased, her heart pounding with exhilaration.

They raced through the winding halls, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Aegon’s longer strides closed the gap quickly, but he allowed Reilla to stay just out of reach, savouring the playful chase. She turned a corner, her gown flowing behind her like a whisper of moonlight, and Aegon followed, his own excitement growing with each step.

Finally, Reilla ducked into a narrow passageway, her breath coming in quick gasps as she reached the door to Aegon’s chambers. She fumbled with the latch for a moment, her hands trembling with anticipation, before managing to push it open.

Aegon was right behind her, his eyes alight with the thrill of the chase. As they stumbled into the room, he caught her around the waist, spinning her in a playful circle before setting her gently on her feet.

“Caught you,” he murmured, his voice husky with laughter and desire.

Reilla’s laughter mingled with his, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “It seems you have,” she replied, breathless and exhilarated.

They paused for a moment, catching their breath and savouring the shared joy of their escape. Then Aegon’s expression grew more serious, though his eyes still sparkled with delight. “You know, I’m going to get criticism from the lords for not completing the bedding ceremony,” he said, though there was no real worry in his voice.

Reilla smiled, a soft, knowing smile. “I have just the thing to cheer you up,” she said, her voice filled with promise. “Wait for me on the bed.”

Aegon’s curiosity was piqued, and he nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. As he waited, he watched Reilla disappear behind the changing screen. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his thoughts filled with wonder and excitement at what she had planned.

Reilla shed her wedding gown as quickly as she was able and slipped into the nightgown Helaena had commissioned for her. It was a masterpiece of Myrish lace, delicate and ethereal. The fabric was sheer, adorned with intricate patterns that accentuated her curves and left just enough to the imagination. The lace hugged her figure, the fine material flowing gracefully as she moved.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, the sight of her took Aegon’s breath away. He had seen many beautiful things in his life, but nothing compared to the vision before him now. His heart pounded as he took in every detail: the way the lace clung to her, the delicate patterns that danced across her skin, and the way her hair cascaded around her shoulders.

Aegon’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His breath caught, and his pulse quickened, a deep, almost primal desire flooding through him. He had never felt such a powerful combination of awe, wonder, and sexual hunger. His body reacted instinctively, heat pooling low in his belly as he drank in the sight of her.

Reilla, for her part, felt a surge of confidence under his intense gaze. She moved closer, each step measured and deliberate, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. When she reached him, she paused, her eyes meeting his, a silent question in their depths.

Aegon answered without words, reaching out to pull her gently into his arms. He could feel the heat of her body through the delicate fabric of the nightgown, and it drove him wild. His hands roamed over the lace, savouring the feel of it and the warmth of her skin beneath.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and ravenous. The connection was electric, sending shivers up Reilla’s spine and making her toes curl with delight. Aegon’s kiss was hungry and passionate, a declaration of his desire. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with a fervour that left her breathless.

Reilla responded with equal passion, her fingers threading through his hair as she pressed closer to him. The heat between them was palpable, a fierce and consuming fire that left them both yearning for more. Each touch, each caress, stoked the flames higher, filling the room with a heady mix of desire and love.

When they finally pulled apart, their breathing was heavy, their bodies tingling with the intensity of their kiss. Aegon looked at Reilla with a mixture of awe and adoration. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want you right now. Issa gevie ābrazȳrys.” Aegon whispered as he slowly reached out and ran his fingers over Reilla’s lace covered breasts. His hands slid the traps of the gown down her shoulders, marvelling at the soft, milky skin. (My beautiful wife.)

“Issa sȳz jurnegēre valzȳrys.” Reilla smiled up at him, tucking some hair away from his face. (My handsome husband.)

Aegon's breath hitched as Reilla's soft whisper reached his ears, her words igniting a fierce longing within him. The delicate lace of her nightgown felt tantalizingly fragile beneath his fingers as he pulled her closer, their bodies moulding together with an urgency that belied their previous playfulness.

Reilla's hands were hesitant at first, but as they found their way to Aegon's bare chest, her touch became more confident. Her fingers traced the contours of his muscles, marvelling at the smoothness of his skin and the strength she felt beneath her fingertips. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a testament to the desire they both shared.

Aegon’s hands roamed over the intricate patterns of the Myrish lace, revelling in the sensation of Reilla’s body beneath the delicate fabric. His touch was firm yet tender, exploring the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the softness of her breasts. The nightgown left little to the imagination, and Aegon’s imagination was running wild.

He kissed her deeply; their mouths moving together in a dance of hunger and need. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before delving inside, tasting her sweetness. Reilla moaned softly into his mouth, her hands sliding up to his shoulders and then down his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. His back was a marvel to her, each ridge and line fascinating under her questing fingers.

Their kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. Aegon’s hands found the hem of her nightgown, lifting it slightly to brush his fingertips against the bare skin of her thigh. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through Reilla, her breath catching as she pressed closer to him.

Reilla’s fingers traced the line of Aegon’s spine, her touch light and teasing. She felt him shiver under her touch, a reaction that sent a thrill of power through her. She let her hands wander lower, exploring the hard planes of his abdomen and the slight indents that hinted at his strength.

Aegon pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire as he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to remember every inch of you.”

Reilla’s heart pounded at his words, her cheeks flushing with a mix of shyness and boldness. “My body is yours, Aegon.” she whispered, her hands slipping around to the front of his breeches, tracing the edge with a feather-light touch.

Aegon groaned softly, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. He kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if trying to memorize the taste and feel of her lips. Reilla responded in kind, her kisses growing more confident, more demanding.

Their hands continued to explore, each touch building the tension between them higher and higher. Aegon’s fingers slipped beneath the lace of her nightgown, tracing the curve of her spine, while Reilla’s hands roamed over his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing.

Their kisses became more heated, more desperate, as they clung to each other. Aegon’s hands found the soft swell of her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through the thin fabric, eliciting a gasp from Reilla. She arched into his touch, her own hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him with a fervour that matched his own.

The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with the scent of desire and the sound of their mingled breaths. Aegon’s hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, exploring, while Reilla’s fingers traced the lines of his body, committing each detail to memory.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their passion. Aegon looked at Reilla with a mixture of awe and desire, his hands cupping her face tenderly. “I need you, Reilla,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “I need all of you.”

Reilla smiled, her own eyes reflecting the same need. “Then take me, Aegon,” she whispered back, her voice a soft promise. “Mark me yours.”

“I want to make you feel good,” your husband finally uttered in a whisper. Of course, she had heard the servants speaking of pleasure. That sometimes, if the man did ‘it’ just right, the woman would find bliss but she had never dared ask the question.

“How?” Reilla glanced at the space just above his breeches, where a small trail of blonde hair disappeared.

Aegon’s thumb caressed her cheek ever so softly, pressing on the supple plumpness under the pad of his finger. He had leaned away, not too far, just enough to gauge Reilla’s reaction. Her throat felt dry, and she longed for a cup of wine or water.

“Will you let me?” he asked.

Reilla nodded her head, untrusting of her own words. As his deft hands lifted the nightgown to her hips, Reilla fisted the sheets tight in her hands. She watched him as he watched her, or her womanhood, rather. Aegon’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, his eyes twinkling under the subtle warmth of the dimness in his chambers. 

Reilla felt open… exposed. The urge to cross her legs threatened to overwhelm her, but Aegon’s hands caressing the meat of her thighs prevented her from doing so. He descended then, planting a trail of kisses down the inside of her thigh. Gooseflesh erupted over her skin, and Reilla gasped when he came close to her mound, making her grip his shoulder to stop him.

“Aegon…” she breathed out, eyes wild with panic.

“Let me do this for you, wife.” he whispered, taking her wrist to direct his kisses there. “Emagon pāsagon.” (Have faith.)

Reilla retracted her hand from his firm shoulder hesitantly, leaning her weight on her elbow to watch him. His breath was hot against her slit, which caused an involuntarily clench. He started with light kisses but soon progressed to little licks against her slit. His eyes flickered to gauge her reaction, where she had started to bite her lip to keep quiet. Two fingers parted her folds, baring her to his hungry gaze.

“Oh,” Reilla exhaled, tilting her head back, as his tongue delved deeper, penetrating her. With a surge of confidence, Aegon husband began to devour his little wife in earnest, licking and sucking. Sweet sounds, one he had never heard before in earnest, had started to spill from her lips.

A long finger soon replaced his tongue, entering her gummy walls as though it were his cock. He thrust it in and out of her the same way, and when he bent to feel up a rough patch within her walls, Reilla’s toes clenched as her spine bowed off the bed.

“Good?” Aegon asked sincerely. Reilla merely whined, the semblance of a nod greeting him.

His lips found her pearl, and then another finger joined the other. The king soon found a rhythm, one that had her writhing and moaning without shame.

Reilla could feel the pressure in her stomach build in a steady peak. It sparked her muscles to twitch in Aegon’s hold, growing convulsive as she was pushed closer to her precipice. Aegon watched as she finally came with a whine, her head thrown back into the feather mattress, grinning to himself at his accomplishment.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Reilla asked, breathless. Black spots danced around her vision of him, swarming around the otherworldly sight of his flushed, glimmering lips and the loose silver strands that framed his face. It quirked into a small smirk as he regarded her, his arms caging her in between his hold. “No, wait don’t tell me.”

“It is of no consequence now.” Aemond responded. Reilla dared not ask what he meant, unwilling to learn who he had sucked and licked the way he did in order to be so proficient in the act, how he had learned to poke all the right places to earn such lewd sounds from her. Reilla merely hummed, tracing the line of his jaw in a trance.

His deft fingers had grabbed a hold of the straps of her nightgown, pulling them down to bare her fully to him. She let him, willingly so, encouraged by the look in his eyes that promised more. His gaze was fixed her breasts immediately before his warm, calloused hands took them into his hold. They fit perfectly in his palms, much their combined delight. Reilla bit her lip as he squeezed them, massaging the supple flesh and rubbing on your sensitive bud. Aegon could do this for hours, and if it weren’t for the throbbing in between his thighs, he would have.

He cleared his throat and stood, beginning to unlace and remove his breeches until he stood before her, cock stood stiff and weeping for attention. He was utterly handsome like this, bare and unguarded. She beckoned him closer, soft fingertips trailing his knuckles. “You are beautiful.”

He huffed in amusement, planting a kiss on her cheek before mumbling into her skin words she could not hear.

His stiff length was hot and heavy as it sat against her hip, a reminder of the fire that still coursed through their veins. Aegon pulled away, the look in his eyes taking a warmer, softer tinge. The smile on Reilla’s lips melted away to something sincere, hopeful. With a nod, she watched him take hold of his shaft, lining it upon her entrance. His breach was smooth but still, Reilla tensed.

“Don’t tense, love.” He murmured, kissing along her jaw before taking her lips in a passionate kiss to distract her from the pinching pain. Reilla breathed slowly, busying her mind with her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He was pushing slowly, eyes shut tightly against the feel of her tight warmth around him.

“Fuck,” he growled when his hips settled flush against hers. He breathed out against her neck, raising more goosebumps. “Fuck, darling, please tell me when you’re ready.”

Reilla swallowed thickly and glanced down between them, where his cock disappeared. The pinching sensation had lessened and a blooming heat was spreading through her. He gripped at his shoulders and nodded at him, offering her mouth for a kiss.

Aegon’s hips took on a steady pace, rocking into her gently and slowly. It was nothing lewd or animalistic, but rather sensual, intimate. His face was buried into the crook of her neck, his grunts and moans traveling straight into her clavicle. Reilla was no better, her whines of building pleasure echoing into the quiet of the room.

Aegon took hold of her fisted hands and pried them open and intwined their fingers.

“Aegon,” Reilla breathed out. His nose pressed into the side of her face, breathing into the sweet scent of her dampening flesh.

“Say it again…” His voice was growing raspier by the second, but his tone was ever so soft. His lips closed around one of her nipples, sucking on the stiff bud in a way that made Reilla’s core clench around him.

“Aegon, oh, Aegon! My king,” she whined, holding onto the planes of his back as his pace hastened. His pubic bone rubbed on her pearl, sending shoots of fiery pleasure up and down her spine. She gripped him tightly, almost painfully, but he relished in it. He wanted to feel her everywhere, kiss on every ounce of flesh he could, she was his after all.

“My wife, my dearest queen. Will you come for me again? Spill around my cock, hm?”

Reilla nodded fervently at words, wanting nothing else to do exactly as he asked. His forehead was scrunched in concentration, lips barely an inch away from her. Their breath mingled and Reilla chased him when his tongue darted to lick a swipe across her bottom lip playfully.

She screamed his name as her release washed over her, moans swallowed by his hungry mouth. His length drove into her still, chasing his own release with the aid of her spasming walls.

Aegon pulled away to look at where they were connected, committing the sight of his cock, painted with a white ring around its base, disappearing into her sweet cunny. His pace grew rhythmless as his hips began to sputter. With a hand on his wife’s breast, the other on her jaw, Aegon came with an open-mouthed groan, spilling his hot seed deep into her womb.

When he collapsed by her side, she pulled him close to her chest, letting him lay on her breast with his softening length still nestled in her walls.

They lay there together in silence, comfortably breathless and boneless. His hand rubbed patterns on her waist, as hers ran over his back.

Slumber found them a while later, the heat emanating from Aegon’s bare body pressed against her in a comforting blanket.

Aegon and Reilla sat in the sunlit dining room of their shared quarters, enjoying a leisurely breakfast. The morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the table laden with fresh fruits, bread, and various pastries. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of Targaryen history, and the scent of freshly baked bread and brewed tea filled the air.

Aegon looked at Reilla with a smile that hadn't left his face since their wedding night, his eyes full of contentment. "You seem to be glowing even more this morning," he teased, reaching across the table to take her hand.

Reilla laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with happiness. "And you, my king, look as if you haven't a care in the world."

Aegon chuckled. "That's because having you by my side makes all the difference. But truth be told, there are still matters that weigh on my mind."

"Are you nervous about Aemond leaving for Harrenhal?" Reilla asked, her tone gentle as she took a sip of her tea.

Aegon sighed, setting down his fork. "I am. Harrenhal is a fortress, but it's also a place of dark history and Larys Strong accompanying him puts me ill at ease, but the thought of Rhaenyra's loyalists trying to take it makes me angry."

Reilla nodded, understanding his concern. "Aemond is capable and determined. He'll do everything to secure it. Besides, Larys Strong is cunning and resourceful; he would never harm that hands that feed him."

He grinned at her words, knowing how much the man annoyed Reilla. She was too smart to say anything else, knowing that having Lord Strong at their side was a boon – he could easily decide that their cause was no longer his and disappear to Dragonstone to treat with Rhaenyra. “Soon he will be but a memory, darling.”

“Not a fond one.” Reilla muttered, chomping down on a strawberry as if it were Larys’ head.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Mother mentioned looking at a betrothal for Aemond. She's been hinting at it for weeks, but there's been no announcement, not even a word in the Small Council meetings. It's unlike her to delay such matters."

"Do you have any idea who she might be considering?" Reilla asked, curious.

Aegon shrugged. "She hasn't mentioned any names. It's strange. She's usually so decisive."

Reilla pondered this for a moment. "I could ask her about it when I see her later. Perhaps there is something she's waiting for or some strategic reason for the delay."

Aegon nodded appreciatively. "I would be grateful if you did. Aemond deserves to know his future, especially before embarking on such a significant mission."

Reilla reached across the table and took his hand. "I'll speak with her. In the meantime, we need to trust Aemond's abilities and Larys' cunning."

Aegon squeezed her hand gently, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and love. "Thank you, Reilla. Your support means everything to me."

Reilla smiled warmly at him. "Always, my king. Together we will accomplish great things."

After finishing their breakfast, Reilla excused herself to prepare for the day. She walked to her chambers, where sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the elegant room. On the bed lay the new dress Aegon had gifted her, its rich green fabric shimmering in the light.

The dress was a masterpiece of Westerosi craftsmanship, designed to flatter her figure and exude regal grace. Made of fine silk, it was dyed a deep shade of emerald green that highlighted her striking Targaryen features. The bodice was intricately embroidered with golden thread, depicting dragons in flight.

The neckline was modest yet elegant, trimmed with delicate Myrish lace, and the long, fitted sleeves tapered to her wrists with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, creating a subtle, mesmerizing shimmer with every movement.

The dress also featured a belt of braided gold, cinching her waist and accentuating her figure. Reilla admired the way it moved as she turned, feeling a sense of pride and excitement. Aegon's thoughtful gift was not just beautiful; it symbolized his affection and support.

As she donned the dress, she completed her ensemble with delicate golden earrings and a simple necklace, her hair cascading in loose waves down her back. With one last glance in the mirror, she made her way to her next task, feeling every bit the Queen Consort she had become.

As she made her way to her good mother's chambers first, she thought about the strange delay in Aemond's betrothal announcement. It was unlike Alicent to keep such plans to herself for so long.

Entering Alicent's chambers, Reilla found the Queen seated by the window, reading a letter. The room was decorated with an elegant simplicity, reflecting Alicent's taste. Alicent looked up and smiled warmly at her daughter-in-law. "Reilla, it's lovely to see you. How are you this morning?"

"I'm well, thank you," Reilla replied, returning the smile. "I actually wanted to speak with you about Aemond. Aegon mentioned that you were considering a betrothal for him, but there hasn't been any news. He is curious, and so am I."

Alicent's expression grew thoughtful. "Yes, I have been considering a few matches for Aemond. However, the situation is delicate. We need to ensure that the alliance is beneficial to our house and strengthens our position against Rhaenyra. There are many factors to weigh."

Reilla nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I see. Aegon is concerned about Aemond leaving for Harrenhal without knowing his future. It would give them both peace of mind to know your plans, I think."

Alicent sighed softly. "I understand. I will discuss this matter with the Small Council soon. Aemond's mission is critical, and he should know where he stands before he leaves."

"Thank you," Reilla said, feeling relieved. "I'm sure Aemond will appreciate it."

Alicent reached out and touched Reilla's hand. "You've been a wonderful addition to our family, Reilla. Your concern for all my children is commendable."

Reilla smiled, feeling a warm sense of belonging. "I have found true family with you all here and I will always support that."

After their conversation, Reilla made her way to Helaena's chambers. She found her good sister preparing for their visit to the city, watching a gaggle of servants ready the baskets of fresh food they would be taking with them. The room was filled with the scent of fresh flowers, and Helaena's presence brought a sense of calm and joy.

The princess was dressed in a gown of soft lavender, the colour complementing her fair skin and platinum hair. The dress was adorned with silver thread work that glittered in the sunlight, depicting intricate patterns of flowers and vines.

As Reilla approached, Helaena's face lit up with a warm smile. "You look beautiful, Reilla," she said, her voice gentle and sincere. "Aegon has excellent taste."

"Thank you, Helaena," Reilla replied, returning the smile. "You look stunning as always. The lavender suits you perfectly."

Helaena nodded appreciatively, then her gaze grew distant, as if she were seeing something far beyond the room. "A wolf dressed in pale blue," she murmured, her tone softening considerably. "There will be a wolf dressed in pale blue."

Reilla frowned slightly, puzzled by Helaena's words. "What do you mean, Helaena?"

Helaena blinked and seemed to come back to the present, her expression softening. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Sometimes, I see things. They don't always make sense right away."

Reilla placed a comforting hand on Helaena's arm. "Your visions are a gift, Helaena. We should always heed them. Perhaps the meaning will become clear in time."

Helaena nodded, her gaze steady and reassuring. "Yes, perhaps it will. For now, let's focus on our task for the day."

The two women shared a determined look, then set off together towards the city, ready to deliver food to the orphanage. The words of the prophecy lingered in Reilla's mind, a reminder of the uncertain future that lay ahead.

As they made their way through the bustling streets of King's Landing, Reilla felt a sense of purpose and fulfilment. The people they encountered greeted them with smiles and gratitude, their spirits lifted by the generosity of their Queen and princess. The streets were alive with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares, children playing, and the general hum of city life.

Reilla and Helaena distributed food to the children at the orphanage, their hearts warming at the sight of the little faces lighting up with joy. They spent time talking with the caretakers, listening to their needs and concerns.

"These children have so little," Helaena said softly, her eyes reflecting her empathy. "It breaks my heart to see them suffer."

Reilla placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "We are making a difference, Helaena. One step at a time. And we will continue to do so."

Helaena nodded, her resolve strengthening. "Yes, we will."

As they made their way back to the Red Keep, Reilla reflected on the day's events. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that she and Helaena were making a positive impact on the lives of those in need. Reilla knew that she and Aegon had many challenges ahead, but with the support of their family and their commitment to their people, they were ready to face whatever the future held.

Back at the Red Keep, Reilla found Aegon in their solar, poring over maps and muttering to himself about strategy. He looked up and smiled as she entered, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

"How was your day?" Aegon asked, his eyes full of curiosity.

"It was fulfilling," Reilla replied, taking a seat beside him. "We distributed food to the orphanage and listened to their needs. It's heartening to see how much a small act of kindness can mean to those children."

Aegon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You have a good heart, Reilla. Our people are lucky to have you."

"And I am lucky to have you," Reilla said, leaning into him gently.

Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, filled with the warmth of their mutual affection. Aegon's hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, as he pulled her closer. The kiss was soft and slow, a comforting embrace of lips that conveyed the depth of their feelings for one another. Aegon's other hand slid around her waist, holding her gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let her go.

Reilla felt a shiver of delight run down her spine as the kiss deepened. She melted into his embrace, her hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, each moment filled with the promise of their shared future. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their eyes locking in a gaze that spoke of love, trust, and unspoken vows.

"You really do have a way of making everything better," Aegon murmured, his forehead resting against hers.

Reilla smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "I spoke with your mother earlier," she said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "About Aemond and the betrothal she mentioned."

Aegon’s eyebrows raised in interest. "And what did she say?"

"She didn't give a definitive answer, but she seemed to be weighing her options carefully. I think she’s waiting for the right moment or perhaps the right match."

Aegon chuckled softly. "Matching Aemond’s intensity is no small feat. Did she hint at anyone specific?"

Reilla shook her head. "No, but she seemed thoughtful about it. I get the sense she wants to make a choice that will benefit both Aemond and the realm."

Aegon nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "That sounds like Mother. She’s always thinking three steps ahead."

Their lips met once more, this time with a bit more urgency, a silent promise of their shared strength and unwavering support for one another. The warmth of their connection enveloped them, making the weight of the crown and the trials ahead seem just a little bit lighter.

The Small Council chamber was a grand and imposing room, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings and tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The room was lit by the warm glow of numerous torches, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. A large, polished table dominated the center of the chamber, surrounded by high-backed chairs reserved for the council members. King Aegon II Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding respect and attention.

The attendees took their seats, their expressions reflecting the seriousness of the matters at hand.

Aegon cleared his throat, signalling the start of the meeting. "We have important matters to discuss today, the foremost being the departure of Larys and Aemond to Harrenhal to secure it against Rhaenyra’s loyalists."

Larys Strong leaned forward, his face a mask of calm calculation. "The task at Harrenhal is of utmost importance. Securing it will provide us with a strong foothold in the Riverlands and prevent any incursions from Rhaenyra’s supporters."

Prince Aemond nodded in agreement; his one remaining eye gleaming with determination. "We will ensure that Harrenhal is firmly under our control. Vhagar’s presence alone will serve as a significant deterrent."

Ser Otto Hightower, his expression thoughtful, added, "We cannot afford to show any weakness."

Aemond's gaze shifted to his mother, who seemed to be waiting for the right moment to speak. Alicent took a deep breath and addressed the council. "I have two viable options for Aemond’s betrothal, which will strengthen our alliances significantly."

All eyes turned to Alicent as she continued, "The first option is a daughter of House Baratheon. A marriage to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters would secure his loyalty to our cause. Aemond, you may choose among the Baratheon girls as you see fit."

Aemond’s gaze flickered with interest, but he remained silent as Alicent presented the second option. "The second option is Rosyn Tully, the daughter of Lord Grover Tully. This marriage would not only solidify our hold on the Riverlands but also ensure that Harrenhal’s security is maintained. Additionally, if Aemond refuses Rosyn, Helaena could be married to one of Lord Grover’s younger sons, securing the alliance from another angle."

Ser Tyland Lannister, always calculating, leaned back in his chair, considering the implications. "Both alliances are beneficial. The Baratheons would provide strong military support, while the Tully’s would secure our position in the Riverlands."

Lord Jasper Wylde nodded in agreement. "We must weigh the benefits carefully. Aemond’s decision will significantly impact our strategy moving forward."

Aemond, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. "Both options have their merits. I will consider them carefully and will send my answer within a week."

Alicent smiled warmly at her son. "I know you will make the right choice, Aemond. These alliances are crucial to our success."

Aegon looked at his brother with pride. "Aemond, your judgment is valued here. Choose wisely, for the future of our realm depends on it."

The discussion then shifted to the logistics and strategies for securing Harrenhal. Ser Criston Cole outlined the security measures and troop deployments. "We must ensure that Harrenhal is fortified and that our men are well-prepared for any potential siege."

Larys Strong added, “Rumours indicate that Rhaenyra’s forces are spread thin, but we cannot underestimate her. With Vhagar at Harrenhal, we will have a significant advantage."

As maps were unrolled and plans scrutinized, the room buzzed with activity. Grand Maester Orwyle provided insights on the supply lines and the importance of maintaining them.

After a thorough discussion, Aegon turned to his council. "Is there any other business to address?"

Tyland cleared his throat. "There are reports from the western borders that require attention, but they are not as pressing as the matter of Harrenhal. We can address them in the next meeting."

Aegon nodded. "Very well. If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."

As the council members began to rise and gather their documents, Alicent approached Aemond. "I trust you will make the best decision for our family and the realm."

Aemond met his mother’s gaze with determination. "I will, Mother. You can count on it."

The Small Council chamber slowly emptied, leaving behind an air of resolved determination as the Targaryens and their allies prepared for the challenges ahead. The future of the realm hung in the balance, and every decision made in that room would shape the course of history.

The Dragonpit loomed large and foreboding, its vastness filled with the echoes of ancient roars and the lingering smell of dragons. The air inside was thick with the heat of dragonfire and the musky scent of the great beasts. Stone corridors, worn smooth by centuries of use, twisted and turned, leading deeper into the heart of the pit.

Helaena Targaryen led Reilla through the massive stone corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the cool stone floors. The faint light from torches cast flickering shadows on the walls, giving the place an almost ethereal quality. The anticipation built within Reilla with each step, her heart racing in both fear and excitement.

As they approached Dreamfyre’s chamber, the dragon’s massive, serpentine form came into view. Dreamfyre was a magnificent sight, her scales shimmering with hues of blue and silver, catching the light and reflecting it in a dazzling array. She lifted her head, her eyes glinting with curiosity as the two women entered her space. Her wings, though folded, hinted at the immense power they held when unfurled.

Helaena stepped forward, speaking soothingly to her dragon. “Dreamfyre, my love,” she murmured, her voice soft and melodic, like a lullaby. “This is Reilla, my dear sister by marriage.”

Reilla stood back, awestruck by the dragon’s sheer size and grace. Dreamfyre’s eyes, large and expressive, focused on her, and for a moment, Reilla felt a connection, a sense of understanding pass between them. She took a tentative step closer, her eyes never leaving Dreamfyre’s.

“Come, she will not harm you,” Helaena encouraged, her smile gentle and reassuring.

With a deep breath, Reilla stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest. The dragon remained calm, her gaze steady and accepting. Reilla felt a sense of calm wash over her, the initial trepidation giving way to a strange comfort in the presence of the dragon.

Helaena watched them with a serene smile. “She likes you,” she said softly. “Dragons are more perceptive than most people realize.”

They spent some time with Dreamfyre, Helaena tending to her dragon and speaking in low, soothing tones. Reilla watched, fascinated by the bond between them, noticing the subtle, almost tender interactions. Dreamfyre would nuzzle Helaena gently, responding to her touch with a soft rumble of contentment.

As they finished, Reilla noticed another presence nearby. Aegon entered the chamber, his golden hair catching the light of the torches, and beside him was his dragon, Sunfyre. Sunfyre’s scales gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, a striking blend of gold and red. His regal form moved with a fluid grace, his eyes sharp and intelligent.

“Aegon,” Helaena greeted her brother, “I thought it would be good for Reilla to meet Sunfyre as well.”

Aegon nodded, his gaze shifting to his wife. “Sunfyre, meet Reilla,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle.

Sunfyre’s eyes locked onto Reilla, and for a moment, the dragon seemed to assess her. Reilla felt a mixture of awe and trepidation, but she held her ground. The golden dragon lowered his head slightly, a sign of acceptance.

Aegon walked over to Reilla, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “He likes you,” he said, his tone softer now. “Sunfyre can be quite discerning.”

Reilla felt a rush of emotions, a sense of being embraced by these magnificent creatures. “Thank you, Sunfyre,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to fear from him. He knows you are family now.”

Reilla looked up at Aegon, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m still getting used to all of this.”

Aegon chuckled softly. “It takes time, but you’ll find your place here. We’re all adjusting in our own ways.”

Helaena watched them with a serene smile. “Reilla has a good heart, Aegon. She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Eventually, Helaena turned the conversation to a more personal matter. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Reilla,” Helaena began, her tone curious and thoughtful. “What happened to the dragon egg that was sent to you as a babe?”

Reilla sighed, her expression wistful. “It never hatched. I kept it close, hoping it would one day, but it remained cold and still. And with my upbringing at Runestone, claiming a dragon was impossible. I never had the chance.”

Helaena nodded thoughtfully, her fingers absently stroking Dreamfyre’s scales. “Perhaps you could try bonding with one of the castle dragons without riders. There are several that remain unclaimed.”

Reilla’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not sure about that, Helaena. I’m not much of a warrior, though I have had some sword training.”

Helaena smiled gently, shaking her head. “Bonding with a dragon should never be about fighting, Reilla. It’s about the connection, the essence it brings to one’s life. A dragon is more than a weapon; it’s a part of you, a companion.”

Reilla pondered this, her eyes drifting to the tunnels leading to the nests of the unclaimed dragons. “Which dragon would you suggest?” she asked hesitantly.

“Silverwing,” Helaena replied without hesitation. “She’s relatively docile and loved her previous rider, Good Queen Alysanne, very much. She might accept you if you approach her with an open heart.”

Reilla’s gaze turned toward the direction of Silverwing’s lair, uncertainty and curiosity warring within her. “I will ponder it,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on the darkened tunnels. The idea of bonding with such a majestic creature was daunting, yet exhilarating.

Aegon, who had been listening quietly, added, “Silverwing is a good choice. She’s wise and gentle, perfect for someone like you.”

Reilla looked at Aegon, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you, Aegon. Your confidence means a lot to me.”

Helaena reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Reilla’s arm. “Take your time. The bond with a dragon is not something to be rushed. When you’re ready, Silverwing will be waiting.”

Reilla nodded, feeling a deep sense of gratitude towards Helaena and Aegon for their understanding and support. “Thank you, both of you. Your guidance means a lot to me.”

Helaena smiled, her eyes reflecting her sincerity. “We are family now, Reilla. And family looks out for each other.”

As they made their way out of the Dragonpit, the anticipation and excitement of what lay ahead stayed with Reilla. The Dragonpit seemed less intimidating now, the shadows less foreboding. The notion of bonding with a dragon, something she had long thought impossible, now seemed within reach.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they exited the pit, the warmth a stark contrast to the coolness within. Reilla couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope igniting within her. The idea of bonding with a dragon was daunting, yet exhilarating, and she found herself looking forward to the possibilities that lay ahead.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” Reilla said, her voice filled with determination.

Helaena nodded, a look of pride in her eyes. “I know you will, and I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”

Aegon added, “And so will I. Together, we’ll face whatever comes.”

Together, they walked back toward the Red Keep, their steps light with the promise of new beginnings and the strength of their newfound bond.

The war table in Dragonstone's grand hall was surrounded by the key members of Queen Rhaenyra’s faction, the atmosphere tense and charged with anticipation. The news of Aegon’s coronation and marriage to Daemon’s estranged daughter, Reilla, had sent shockwaves through their ranks.

The chamber was bathed in a warm, ambient glow from sconces and flickering torches, their light casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. At its centre sprawled the Painted Table, an immense block of wood carved and painted meticulously to resemble the detailed contours of Westeros as it stood at the dawn of Aegon's Conquest. Settlements and landscapes were vividly depicted, yet without the confines of borders, offering a panoramic view of the realm's expanse. Near the representation of Dragonstone, a raised seat awaited, providing an optimal vantage point to oversee the entirety of the map. Over three centuries of varnish lent the table a rich patina, while nearby, an iron brazier crackled softly, adding to the chamber's warm ambiance, complemented by the gentle heat emanating from a hearth nestled in one corner.

Rhaenyra stood at the head of the table, her presence commanding and regal even amidst the turmoil. Her silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her violet eyes were steely with determination. Daemon stood beside her, his expression dark and brooding. His gaze flickered with anger and frustration, the tension palpable between him and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, who sat opposite with her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon.

Rhaenyra’s voice broke the heavy silence, steady but laced with anger. “Their union strengthens Aegon’s claim substantially,” she began, her eyes scanning the faces of her loyal supporters. “We need to act swiftly and decisively.”

Rhaenys, her eyes flashing with the same fire that burned in her husband, nodded in agreement. “Harrenhal must be secured. If Aegon sends forces there, it will cut us off from the Riverlands.”

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. “I will gather an army and claim Harrenhal. Aegon will not hold it while I breathe.”

Corlys looked thoughtful, stroking his beard. “Borros Baratheon remains undecided. We need his support if we are to secure the Stormlands.”

Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra’s eldest son, stood tall and resolute. “I will fly to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Baratheon.”

“No,” Rhaenyra interjected, her tone firm. “You are needed to fly to Winterfell. We must secure Lord Cregan Stark’s aid. Lucerys will go to Storm’s End.”

Lucerys, though younger and less experienced, nodded bravely. “I will do my duty, Mother.”

The tension in the room mounted as the discussion shifted. Daemon’s face darkened further as the conversation turned to Reilla. Rhaenys brought up her concern with barely concealed contempt. “This marriage is an affront. Reilla should have been here, with us.”

Daemon’s eyes blazed with fury. “Reilla is a mistake, just like her mother. I would have bastardized her if Viserys and that snake Alicent hadn't interfered.”

Rhaenys stood, her voice rising. “You may despise her, but you cannot deny she is your blood. My sources say she is the spitting image of the late Queen Alyssa. Raised with the Royce intelligence for battle and political strategy, she would have been a powerful aid to Rhaenyra’s cause.”

Daemon’s hand went to his sword, his knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. “Speak another word about that child, and you will regret it, Rhaenys.”

Corlys rose to his feet, placing a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Enough, Daemon. You will not threaten my wife. We stand united, or we fall.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhaenyra’s voice broke the silence, calm but commanding. “We cannot afford to be divided. Our enemies are formidable, and we must stand together. Harrenhal must be secured, and we must bring the Baratheons and the Starks to our side.”

Lord Bartimos Celtigar, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “We have dragons, Your Grace. They are our greatest advantage.”

Rhaena Targaryen, squaring her shoulders, added, “Silverwing remains in King’s Landing, but Vermithor is on Dragonstone, along with Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, and Seasmoke. Cannibal is too dangerous to approach. Aemond’s dragon Vhagar is the biggest threat we face; she is powerful beyond measure.”

Daemon nodded, his expression hardening. “We have Meleys and Caraxes.”

Rhaenys squinted at her cousin shrewdly, clenching her hand on the arm of her chair to avoid saying something that would start an all-out brawl. “Baela and Moondancer will train with myself and Meleys as well, so that she might be ready for any circumstance.”

“We might search other avenues as well,” Jacaerys said trying not to let his nerves show. “We could enlist riders from outside the family-

“No dragon will accept a non-Targaryen rider.” Daemon scoffed dismissively.

“Dragonseeds have enough Targaryen blood.” Jacaerys said, eyes flicking to his mother. “Who cares where our fighting power comes from, as long as we have it.”

Maester Gerardys nodded in agreement. “The dragons are crucial to our success and there might still be some on the island with dragon blood…”

Ser Erryk Cargyll, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I will have my men scour the island for information on any remaining Dragonseeds and descendants, Your Grace. The prince’s idea is a good one.”

Daemon’s jaw clenched and he stood abruptly, storming from the room without a second glance. Rhaenys shared a look with Rhaenyra, conveying her ire towards the Rogue Prince.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping over her council. “We will move forward with our plans. Daemon, will prepare to take Harrenhal. Jacaerys, you will fly to Winterfell. Lucerys, you will go to Storm’s End. We must secure our allies and our positions.”

Rhaenyra turned to her sons, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Be careful, my sons. The fate of our House rests on your shoulders.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys nodded, determination in their eyes. “We will not fail you, Mother,” Jacaerys vowed.

The council members continued to discuss their strategies and plans. Rhaenyra spoke with Lord Bartimos Celtigar about securing additional supplies and reinforcements, while Maester Gerardys and Ser Erryk Cargyll provided updates on their intelligence and reconnaissance efforts.

The air was filled with a sense of urgency and resolve. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but united, they were determined to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. The battle for the Iron Throne was just beginning, and they would fight with all their strength to claim it.

Taglist: @481theralicat

[keldabekush]

sketchdump - I made an OC (Reilla) and then decided right away she was going to forcibly adopt Boba as her batshit little brother (because she wants to be a middle child and also have someone else to share her chores with)

bonus:

[nixiefics]

Fire and Runes - Chapter Two

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OC (Reilla)

Tropes: Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Targaryen typical incest, smut, canon typical violence and death, swearing, drinking

In a plush sitting room of the Red Keep, Queen Alicent and Reilla sat across from one another, a table between them cluttered with bolts of fabric, sketches of dresses, and samples of flowers. The morning sun streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm light over the room as they discussed the final arrangements for the wedding.

"These orchids from Dorne are exquisite," Alicent remarked, holding up a delicate bloom. "They would complement the decor beautifully."

Reilla nodded appreciatively. "I agree, Your Grace. They add a touch of elegance. And I was thinking, perhaps we could incorporate some bronze accents to honour House Royce."

Alicent smiled, her eyes reflecting a mix of approval and warmth. "A wonderful idea, Reilla. It's important to weave both our traditions into the ceremony."

As they continued to sift through the various elements of the wedding plans, the door to the sitting room creaked open. Aegon stepped in, looking slightly out of place amidst the floral arrangements and sketches of gowns.

"Good morning, Mother. Reilla," he greeted, his tone polite but his eyes betraying a hint of curiosity. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Reilla's face lit up with amusement. "Aegon, your timing is perfect," she said with a playful glint in her eye. "I need your expert opinion on the cut of my dress."

Aegon froze, his eyes widening slightly as he looked from Reilla to his mother and back again. "The... cut of your dress?" he repeated, clearly at a loss.

He glanced down at Reilla, taking in the intricate details of her dress, the way it hugged her figure and the elegant drape of the fabric. His mind raced, trying to recall anything he knew about women's fashion, but the only thing he knew about dresses was how to take them off, which wasn’t something he wanted to share with Reilla. Desperate for help, he glanced at his mother, Alicent, hoping for some guidance.

Reilla couldn't hold back her laughter any longer, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Oh, Aegon," she said, still laughing. "I was just teasing you. You don't need to worry about the cut of my dress." She reached out to touch his arm reassuringly. "But you could help by arranging for your favorite foods to be served at the wedding feast."

Aegon relaxed, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. "I can definitely do that," he replied, relieved. "I want our guests to enjoy the feast as much as we will."

Alicent watched the exchange with a bemused expression. The atmosphere in the room had lightened considerably, and she found herself appreciating the easy rapport between Aegon and Reilla. It was a rare sight to see her son so at ease, and she silently thanked Reilla for bringing out this side of him.

"You know, Aegon," Alicent interjected with a smile, "your contributions to the wedding preparations are quite valuable. A feast fit for a king and queen will certainly set the tone for a joyful celebration."

Aegon grinned, looking more confident. "I'll make sure it's a feast to remember," he promised, glancing at Reilla with a newfound determination.

Reilla smiled warmly at him. "I have no doubt it will be, Aegon. Thank you for your help."

As Aegon left the room to make the necessary arrangements, Alicent turned to Reilla with a look of approval. "You have a way with him," she said softly. "I've not seen him this light-hearted in quite some time."

Reilla's expression softened. "We understand each other," she replied simply. "And are in this together."

Alicent nodded, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and hope. "Indeed, you are. And together, you will face whatever challenges lie ahead."

With that, they returned to the wedding plans, the room now filled with a sense of anticipation and optimism for the future.

In a secluded courtyard of the Red Keep, Aegon and Aemond stood in the training yard. The clang of swords and the shouts of sparring soldiers provided a backdrop to their conversation. Aemond, as usual, was focused on his training, his swordsmanship precise and relentless. Aegon, on the other hand, leaned against a pillar, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Aemond, you should take a break," Aegon called out, watching his younger brother's relentless practice. "You've been at it for hours."

Aemond parried a strike from his opponent before dismissing him with a curt nod. He turned to Aegon, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Training keeps me sharp, brother. Especially with the tensions rising."

Aegon nodded, understanding but determined to steer the conversation in a different direction. "I wanted to talk to you about something else," he began, his voice lighter.

Aemond sheathed his sword and walked over to Aegon, a curious look in his eye. "What is it?"

"Reilla," Aegon said, a smile spreading across his face. "She's incredible, Aemond. Smart, strong, compassionate. She's everything I could have hoped for and more."

Aemond raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his brother's enthusiasm. "You've spoken of her often, Aegon. It's clear you're quite taken with her."

Aegon chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Smitten would be a better word for it. She has this way of seeing things, understanding people. It's like she brings a breath of fresh air into the court."

Aemond studied his brother, noticing the genuine admiration in his eyes. "She sounds remarkable. But tell me, why haven't I met her yet?"

Aegon's smile faltered slightly. "I've been meaning to ask you the same thing. She's been here for days now, and I think it's time you met her properly."

Aemond's expression grew curt, a slight edge to his tone. "I've been busy with my training, preparing for whatever may come. Duty comes first, Aegon. But I will make time to meet your Vale bride."

Aegon frowned, sensing the tension in his brother's words. "I understand your dedication, Aemond, but she's family now. And I think you'd like her. She has a strength that reminds me of you."

Aemond's gaze softened slightly, though his demeanour remained stoic. "If she is as remarkable as you say, then I will meet her. Tomorrow, perhaps."

Aegon nodded, relieved. "Tomorrow, then. I think you'll find her as impressive as I do."

Aemond gave a curt nod, signalling the end of the conversation. "I look forward to it."

Aegon hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "You know, Aemond, with Reilla joining our family, it got me thinking about betrothals. Have you considered—"

Aemond cut him off with a mocking laugh. "Betrothals? You cannot mean that.”

Aegon's expression turned serious. "I do mean it. You sell yourself short, brother. You are a fierce warrior, loyal to our family. Any woman would find you a respectable husband."

Aemond scoffed, a bitter edge to his voice. "Respect is not the same as love, Aegon. Besides, who would want a man with only one eye?"

Aegon stepped closer, his voice firm. "Your eye doesn't define you, Aemond. Your strength, your loyalty, your mind - those are what matter."

Aemond turned away, frustration evident in his posture. "You speak as if it is that simple."

"It can be," Aegon insisted. "Helaena has always held a fondness for you, and you her, if marrying her would make you feel more comfortable with the idea."

Aemond's expression softened at Aegon's words, and he took a deep breath, his gaze distant as he considered his brother's suggestion. He spoke with uncharacteristic vulnerability, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Helaena has always been kind to me," Aemond admitted. "Even with her peculiarities, she has a gentle heart and a sharp mind. She never treated me any differently after I lost my eye. In fact, she was the only one who seemed to see me, truly see me, beyond my scar and my anger."

He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he remembered moments from their childhood. "I respect her deeply, and I've seen her grow into a beautiful woman, inside and out. She has a way of bringing light into even the darkest of places."

Aegon watched his brother with a mixture of surprise and hope. "Then why not consider it, Aemond? If marrying Helaena would bring you comfort and perhaps even happiness, it might be worth pursuing."

Aemond turned to face Aegon fully, a serious expression on his face. "It's not a matter of comfort, Aegon. It's about duty and honour. Helaena deserves someone who can offer her more than just respect and admiration. She deserves love, and I'm not sure I can give her that, not as she deserves."

Aegon stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Aemond's shoulder. "Love can grow, brother. It doesn't have to be there from the start. What matters is the foundation of respect and understanding that you already share. The rest can come with time."

Aemond met Aegon's gaze, the uncertainty in his eyes slowly giving way to a glimmer of hope. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps there's more to consider than just my own doubts and insecurities. Helaena has always been a constant in my life. Maybe... maybe it's time I gave the idea a chance."

Aegon smiled, his relief evident. "That's all I ask, Aemond. Just consider it. You deserve happiness as much as anyone else."

Aemond nodded slowly, his resolve strengthening. "I will think on it, Aegon. And in the meantime, I will make sure to meet Reilla and see the woman who has captured your heart."

As Aemond turned back to his training, a newfound sense of purpose settled over him. He had always been driven by duty, but now, he saw the possibility of forging a new path - one where respect, understanding, and perhaps even love could guide his decisions. And as he swung his sword with renewed determination, he knew that whatever the future held, he would face it with the strength and courage that had always defined him.

As Aegon left the training yard, his thoughts filled with Reilla's smile and the anticipation of her meeting Aemond, he hoped that, in time, his brother would come to see in Reilla what he saw: a beacon of hope and strength in a world that desperately needed both.

In the secluded tranquillity of a garden nestled within the Red Keep, Reilla and Aemond Targaryen finally met face to face. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of ancient trees, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow. They stood in a quiet corner, the soft rustle of leaves and distant murmur of courtly life lending a serene backdrop to their conversation.

"Aemond," Reilla greeted him with a respectful nod, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

"Aunt Alicent speaks highly of you," Aemond replied, his gaze assessing as he studied her with keen interest. "She sees you as a stabilizing force for Aegon in these turbulent times."

Reilla met his gaze evenly. "I endeavor to support him as best as I can," she admitted, her demeanor poised and determined. "The challenges ahead are daunting."

Aemond nodded thoughtfully, his expression reflecting a mix of contemplation and concern. "With Aegon’s coronation, the realm stands on the brink of war," he remarked, his voice carrying the weight of the impending conflict. "Are you prepared for the consequences of aligning yourself with Aegon and our house?"

Reilla's gaze hardened slightly with resolve. "Aegon was the best choice I've ever made," she asserted firmly.

Aemond regarded her with measured respect, acknowledging the strength in her words. "You speak with conviction," he observed, his tone neutral yet tinged with a note of admiration. "Alicent is my mother, and she has always been steadfast in her ambitions for our house. It was she who suggested to my father that you and Aegon be betrothed."

"I have come to value her counsel," Reilla admitted, a small smile touching her lips. "She has guided me with wisdom and care."

The garden seemed to embrace their conversation with a sense of timeless serenity, shielding them momentarily from the tumultuous currents of courtly intrigue. Aemond broke the silence that followed, his voice softer now, revealing a deeper concern beneath his composed exterior. "I hope Aegon understands the depth of your commitment," he said sincerely.

Reilla's expression softened, her eyes reflecting gratitude for Aemond's unexpected understanding. "Thank you, Aemond," she replied earnestly. "Your concern for Aegon does you credit, and your words are appreciated."

In the serene ambiance of the garden, Reilla sensed a lingering curiosity in Aemond's gaze, a question unspoken yet palpable in the air. "You have questions about Daemon," Reilla observed quietly, breaking the tranquil silence that enveloped them. Her voice held a note of understanding, tempered with a hint of guardedness.

Aemond's expression softened imperceptibly, his features betraying a blend of curiosity and wariness. "He is a figure of legend – having won the War of the Stepstones singlehandedly, some say." he acknowledged, his tone carefully neutral. "A man of great ambition and controversial choices."

Reilla nodded, her gaze thoughtful as she considered her response. "He abandoned that war to claim something that was not his, and left me in the Vale without so much as a second thought." she began slowly, choosing her words with deliberation. "His ambitions left an indelible mark on my House."

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly, his voice betraying a trace of scepticism. "And what is your assessment of him, Reilla?" he inquired, his tone implying a deeper query about her personal feelings towards the enigmatic Daemon.

"He is a man my mother was compelled to marry," Reilla replied evenly, her words tinged with a mixture of detachment and quiet resolve. "His choices are his own, and they do not define me nor my path."

There was a moment of silence between them, the garden seeming to echo their thoughts as they navigated the complexities of their shared lineage. Aemond's gaze softened, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his eyes. "You truly bear no allegiance to him," he observed quietly, more a statement than a question.

Reilla met his gaze with unwavering composure. "My loyalty lies with Aegon and the future we seek to build together," she affirmed, her voice steady with conviction. "Daemon's shadow may loom large, but it is our choices now that will shape the destiny of House Targaryen."

Aemond inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgment, a subtle shift in his demeanour revealing a newfound respect for Reilla's clarity of purpose. "May your resolve endure the storms ahead, Reilla," he said sincerely, his tone carrying a note of genuine support.

"Thank you, Aemond," Reilla replied, her expression softening with gratitude. "Your understanding means more than you know."

As they stood amidst the tranquil beauty of the garden, a sense of mutual respect and shared purpose seemed to strengthen their bond - an unspoken commitment to navigate the turbulent currents of their house's destiny with unwavering determination and unity.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep shimmered with the light of countless torches and chandeliers, casting a warm, golden glow over the assembled lords and ladies of the realm. Reilla stood amidst the crowd, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and solemnity. She was resplendent in a gown of deep blue, adorned with accents of bronze that echoed the sigil of her House. A small circlet of bronze, set with black gemstones to represent her family's banner, adorned her head, adding a regal air to her presence.

As Septon Eustace intoned the ancient blessings of the Faith of the Seven upon Aegon, Reilla's gaze remained fixed on her betrothed. He stood tall and proud, clad in green that honoured his Hightower heritage, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and anticipation.

Septon Eustace began with an invocation to the Seven, calling upon the Father for wisdom, the Mother for mercy, and each aspect of the Faith to bless and guide the new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon knelt before the Septon, his head bowed in reverence as he received the blessings of the Faith.

Next, Septon Eustace anointed Aegon's brow with holy oils, a symbolic gesture of consecration and divine favour. The scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the murmured prayers of the gathered clergy and the hushed whispers of the assembled nobility.

Following the anointing, Aegon was presented with the sacred symbols of kingship - a sword, a sceptre, and the crown itself. Each item was imbued with centuries of tradition and significance, representing justice, authority, and the divine right to rule. The sword, laid across his shoulder in a gesture of investiture, signified his duty to protect the realm and uphold its laws. The sceptre, a symbol of his authority, was placed in his hand, emphasizing his role as sovereign.

Queen Alicent approached, holding the circlet of Valyrian steel adorned with rubies - the Conqueror’s Crown. With practiced grace, she placed the crown on Aegon's head, the rubies casting a crimson glow against his dark green robes.

"By the grace of the gods and the will of the people, I crown you Aegon Targaryen, the second of your name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men," Alicent proclaimed, her voice carrying across the hall. "May you rule wisely and justly, and may your reign bring peace and prosperity to the realm."

As the coronation ceremony drew to a close, King Aegon II Targaryen stood tall upon the dais, his newly crowned head held high with the weight of his responsibilities. The hall filled with murmurs and anticipatory whispers as Aegon turned towards Reilla, who stood among the noble guests. With a warm smile and a beckoning gesture, Aegon extended his hand towards her, inviting her to join him on the dais.

Reilla, visibly surprised yet deeply moved by this gesture, felt a rush of emotions - pride, honour, and a sense of belonging - all mingled into one as she ascended the steps to stand beside her king and betrothed. The hall erupted into applause and cheers, acknowledging their union and the promise of unity it symbolized for the realm.

"Reilla," Aegon murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and joy. "Thank you for standing with me."

Reilla smiled warmly, her eyes meeting his with unwavering support. "Together, Aegon," she replied softly, her voice carrying her commitment to their shared future.

As they stood together amidst the applause and respectful nods from the gathered lords and ladies, a symbol of unity and strength, Reilla glanced around the hall, meeting the eyes of familiar faces - some approving, others watching with guarded curiosity. In the crowd, Aemond and Helaena stood side by side. Aemond's gaze was intense, a mixture of pride and protectiveness, while Helaena's gentle smile conveyed her quiet support and understanding.

Helaena, dressed in a gown of soft lavender, caught Reilla's eye and gave a small, encouraging nod. Aemond, with his characteristic stoicism, offered a subtle but respectful inclination of his head, acknowledging the momentous occasion.

Reilla exchanged nods of acknowledgment with Ser Criston Cole, who stood with a stoic demeanour nearby, a silent guardian in these turbulent times. She could sense the trust and loyalty emanating from the knight, further strengthening her resolve to stand by Aegon.

As the festivities continued into the night, Reilla and Aegon moved through the hall, graciously accepting congratulations and well-wishes from the assembled nobility. Reilla's heart swelled with pride as she observed Aegon's interactions - his ease and charm evident even amidst the formalities of courtly protocol. They spoke with lords and ladies from various regions of the realm, discussing alliances and the challenges that lay ahead.

At one point, as they paused near the grand hearth where flames danced and shadows flickered, Aegon turned to Reilla with a soft smile. "You look stunning, my queen," he said, his eyes lingering on the circlet adorning her brow. "Blue and bronze suit you well."

Reilla's cheeks flushed with warmth at his compliment. "Thank you, Aegon," she replied gratefully, her hand resting gently on his arm. "Your presence here tonight fills me with hope for our future."

Their conversation drifted to plans for the coming weeks - the wedding that would solidify their union and the challenges of ruling in a time of uncertainty. Aegon sought Reilla's counsel on matters of state, listening attentively as she offered insights garnered from her time in the Vale and her understanding of Westerosi politics.

In a quiet moment, Aemond approached the couple. "My King," he greeted, his voice steady. "A word, if I may."

Aegon nodded, and Reilla gave Aemond her full attention. "Of course, Aemond," she said.

"Rhaenyra will not take this lightly," Aemond began, his tone serious. "Are you both prepared for what is to come?"

Reilla met Aemond's gaze with unwavering resolve. "Aegon was named heir by King Viserys – there is a signed declaration of it," she said firmly. "And I stand by him. We will face whatever comes together."

Aemond's expression softened slightly, a rare glimmer of respect in his eyes. "I believe you will," he replied. "May the gods watch over you both."

As the night wore on, Reilla and Aegon found themselves drawn back to each other's side, their shared journey unfolding with each step they took together. In the quiet moments between conversations and dances, Reilla knew that their bond - forged in duty, strengthened by true affection - would be the cornerstone of their reign.

The coronation celebration stretched into the early hours of the morning, the Great Hall alive with music, laughter, and the promise of a new era under King Aegon II and Queen Reilla. As they finally retired to their chambers in the Red Keep, hand in hand, Reilla felt a sense of peace settle over her - a certainty that together, they would navigate the challenges of the Iron Throne with unwavering resolve.

In the dimly lit chamber of Dragonstone, Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen stood by the large window, gazing out at the turbulent sea below. The room, filled with the scent of burning candles and the faint rustling of ancient scrolls, was heavy with tension. The news of Aegon's coronation and his impending wedding to Reilla Royce had just reached them, and its implications loomed large over the couple.

Rhaenyra's hands gripped the windowsill, her knuckles white with the force of her hold. "They've usurped my birthright, Daemon," she said, her voice laced with anger and disbelief. "Aegon, crowned king in my place. And now, he binds himself to Reilla. This marriage strengthens his claim and consolidates their power."

Daemon's eyes, dark and intense, flashed with a mixture of rage and frustration. "The old king's last words were twisted by that wretched Queen Alicent and her father. They will pay for this betrayal."

Rhaenyra turned to face him, her expression fierce. "If you had been a better father to Reilla, perhaps this wouldn't have happened," she accused. "She could have been our ally, our strength in the Vale. Instead, you have alienated her, driven her directly into their arms."

Daemon's face contorted with fury, his hands clenching into fists. "Don't you dare lay this at my feet, Rhaenyra!" he spat. "I want nothing to do with that Bronze bitch and the abomination raised in her image; she is no kin of mine."

Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed, her voice icy. "You are her father, whether you acknowledge it or not. Your disdain for her mother has poisoned your heart against her, but she is still a Targaryen by blood. We could have used that connection to our advantage."

Daemon's fury only grew at her words. "I have no place for her in my plans."

Rhaenyra stepped closer, her eyes blazing with determination. " She could have helped secure my claim. Instead, we face war, and you've lost a valuable asset through your pride and prejudice."

Daemon's jaw tightened, his voice a low growl. "Enough, Rhaenyra! What's done is done. We must focus on what lies ahead. War may be inevitable, but we will fight, and we will prevail."

Rhaenyra sighed, her anger giving way to a weary resolve. "Yes, we will fight. But remember, Daemon, every decision has consequences. And this one, this failure to embrace your daughter, may cost us dearly."

The room fell silent, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. Outside, the sea crashed against the rocky shore, a fitting backdrop to the storm brewing within the walls of Dragonstone. As they stood together, their determination to reclaim the throne solidified, but so did the realization of the personal sacrifices and familial rifts that had brought them to this point.

Daemon turned away from the window, his expression hard. "Let them have their coronation and their wedding. It will be their undoing. We will gather our forces, and we will strike when the time is right."

Rhaenyra nodded; her gaze steely. "For my birthright, for the throne, and for the legacy of House Targaryen."

As they left the chamber, their minds were already turning to the strategies and alliances they would need to secure their claim. The battle for the Iron Throne was far from over, and they would stop at nothing to see their enemies brought low and their rightful place restored.

The morning of her wedding dawned clear and bright, a stark contrast to the nervous fluttering in Reilla’s stomach. The chambers were abuzz with activity as maids and attendants hurried about, preparing the bride for her big day. Amidst the flurry of silk and satin, Helaena Targaryen stood out with her serene presence, a calming influence in the chaotic preparations.

Reilla sat before a large mirror, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Helaena stood behind her, deftly weaving delicate braids adorned with tiny pearls and ribbons of blue and bronze. The small circlet of bronze and black gemstones, representing her house, awaited its place on her head.

“You look beautiful, Reilla,” Helaena said gently, her voice soothing. “Aegon will be speechless.”

Reilla smiled nervously, glancing at Helaena in the mirror. “I hope so. But Helaena, I can’t help but worry. What if I do not please him?”

Helaena’s hands paused in their work, and she stepped around to face Reilla, her expression earnest. “Aegon is smitten with you, Reilla. There is nothing you could do that would put him off. He adores you, truly.”

Reilla sighed, her anxiety easing slightly under Helaena’s reassuring words. “I want our wedding night to be special,” she admitted, her cheeks tinged with a hint of colour. “Something memorable.”

A thoughtful look crossed Helaena’s face, and then she smiled. “I have an idea. We can have a special nightgown made for you, something exquisite and tantalizing. Myrish lace is known for its beauty and delicacy. I know a tailor who can create something perfect for the occasion.”

Reilla’s eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and relief. “That sounds wonderful, Helaena. Thank you.”

Helaena squeezed Reilla’s hand gently. “Leave it to me. I’ll ensure it’s ready by tonight. And as for the bedding ceremony,” she added, a note of determination in her voice, “I will make sure it does not take place. It’s a sign of respect to you, and I will see to it personally.”

Reilla felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. “Thank you, Helaena. You’ve been so kind to me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Helaena smiled warmly. “We’re family now, Reilla. We must support each other, especially in times like these.”

The two women shared a moment of quiet understanding, the bond between them strengthening as they prepared for the significant day ahead. Helaena resumed her work on Reilla’s hair, the delicate braids and ribbons coming together to create a stunning, intricate style.

Soon, the maids brought over the final touches of Reilla’s bridal attire—a magnificent gown of deep blue silk, adorned with bronze embroidery and tiny, sparkling gemstones. As Helaena helped her into the dress, Reilla marvelled at the craftsmanship and the way the fabric flowed around her, making her feel both regal and beautiful.

With the gown securely fastened and the circlet placed gently upon her head, Reilla took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence and excitement. Helaena stepped back, admiring her work with a satisfied smile.

“You’re ready, Reilla,” she said softly. “Today is the beginning of a new chapter, and I have no doubt it will be filled with love and happiness.”

Reilla nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “Thank you, Helaena. For everything.”

As the final preparations came to a close, Reilla felt a sense of calm settle over her. With Helaena by her side, she was ready to face the day, knowing that she had the support and love of her new family. Together, they would navigate the challenges ahead, united in their commitment to each other and to the future of House Targaryen.

In his chambers, Aegon stood before a large mirror, adjusting the intricate green and gold embroidery on his wedding doublet. The fabric shimmered in the light, reflecting the Hightower heritage he honoured with his attire. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

Aemond entered the room quietly, his own attire pristine and his demeanour as composed as ever. He observed his brother for a moment before speaking. “Nervous, brother?”

Aegon glanced at Aemond through the mirror, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “A bit,” he admitted. “I don’t want to disappoint Reilla.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “Disappoint her? How so?”

Aegon sighed, turning to face Aemond. “I’ve been with other women before. Whores. What if she finds that unseemly? What if she expects more from me?”

Aemond studied his brother’s face, searching for the right words. “Have you been with any other women since Reilla arrived?”

Aegon shook his head, his expression earnest. “No. I haven’t felt the need.”

Aemond smirked knowingly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “There’s your answer, Aegon. If she’s the one who has made you change your ways, she’ll see that. Reilla’s not a fool. She’ll appreciate your honesty and commitment.”

Aegon felt a sense of relief wash over him at Aemond’s words. “Thank you, brother. I needed to hear that.”

At that moment, Queen Alicent entered the room, her presence commanding yet gentle. She looked at her sons with a proud smile. “Aegon, you look every bit the king today.”

Aegon straightened, his confidence bolstered by his mother’s approval. “Thank you, Mother.”

Alicent’s gaze softened as she looked between her sons. “I’m happy you’ve found someone to share your life and happiness with, Aegon. Reilla is a remarkable woman.”

Aegon nodded, a genuine smile on his face. “She is, Mother. She truly is.”

Alicent’s eyes then shifted to Aemond, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “And Aemond, your time will come as well. There are plans for you too, my son.”

Aemond’s expression remained neutral, though a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Plans, Mother?”

Alicent smiled enigmatically. “Yes, you shall see soon enough. Today is about Aegon. Let’s focus on the joy of his union with Reilla.”

Aegon nodded, though his curiosity about his brother’s future lingered. He turned back to the mirror, taking a deep breath. “Alright then. Let’s make this a day to remember.”

Aemond placed a reassuring hand on Aegon’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, brother. Just be yourself.”

Aegon nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. With his family’s support, he felt ready to face the challenges and joys of his wedding day. Together, they left the chamber, stepping into the light and warmth of the day that awaited them.

The Great Sept of Baelor was resplendent with the light of countless candles and the soft glow of stained-glass windows depicting the Seven. Nobles and dignitaries from across the realm filled the pews, their hushed whispers creating a symphony of anticipation. The air was thick with the mingling scents of incense and fresh flowers, an atmosphere both solemn and celebratory.

Reilla stood at the entrance of the Sept, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She was dressed in a gown of pure white, the fabric shimmering like moonlight. Her dark hair was adorned with a delicate circlet of bronze set with black gemstones, and the wedding cloak of House Royce - bronze with black accents - draped over her shoulders, fastened with a brooch shaped like the sigil of her House.

Beside her, Aemond Targaryen offered a reassuring nod, his presence a source of strength. As the doors of the Sept opened, the soft strains of a harp filled the air, marking the beginning of her procession down the aisle. She took a deep breath, her eyes locking on Aegon at the other end of the aisle.

Aegon stood tall and composed, clad in a doublet of dark green so deep it was almost black, trimmed with gold. His expression was a mix of determination and tender anticipation as he watched Reilla approach. Beside him, his mother Queen Alicent stood with a serene smile, her eyes misting with unshed tears of pride and joy.

As Reilla walked down the aisle, her arm linked with Aemond's, the crowd turned to watch her, their murmurs of admiration filling the Sept. Lords and ladies from every corner of Westeros were present, their faces a tapestry of curiosity, approval, and the ever-present calculations of courtly life. Among them were Helaena, her face lit with a gentle smile, and other prominent figures of the realm.

At the altar, Septon Eustace waited, his serene expression embodying the gravity of the occasion. As Reilla reached Aegon, Aemond placed her hand in his brother's with a nod of approval, then stepped back to join the rest of their family.

Septon Eustace began the ceremony with an invocation to the Seven, calling upon the Father for wisdom, the Mother for mercy, and each aspect of the Faith to bless and guide the new couple. His voice resonated through the Sept, lending a sense of timeless tradition to the proceedings.

"The Father, guide this man and woman in the wisdom of leadership," Septon Eustace intoned, his hands raised in blessing. "The Mother, grant them mercy and compassion in their reign. The Warrior, give them the strength to defend their people. The Smith, bless them with the skill to build a prosperous future. The Maiden, keep their love pure and true. The Crone, grant them the wisdom of ages. The Stranger, remind them of the unknown and the mysteries yet to come."

Reilla and Aegon exchanged a glance, their hands clasping tighter as the gravity of the words settled over them.

Next, Septon Eustace anointed their brows with holy oils, a symbolic gesture of consecration and divine favour. The scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the murmured prayers of the gathered clergy and the hushed whispers of the assembled nobility.

The ceremony proceeded with the presentation of the sacred symbols of marriage. Aegon removed the maiden's cloak from Reilla's shoulders, his movements tender and deliberate. The rich fabric slipped away, replaced by the wedding cloak of House Targaryen - black with a red three-headed dragon. This act signified Reilla's passage from her father's house to her husband's protection.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity," Septon Eustace declared, his voice resonating with authority. "Look upon one another and say the words."

Reilla and Aegon turned to face each other, their eyes locking in a moment of profound connection. Together, they recited the names of the Seven, their voices blending in harmony. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..."

"I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," Aegon vowed, his voice steady and filled with emotion.

"I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," Reilla echoed, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Aegon smiled, his gaze never leaving Reilla's. "With this kiss, I pledge my love," he declared, before leaning in to kiss her for the first time as husband and wife.

As their lips met in their first kiss as husband and wife, a surge of emotions swept through Aegon and Reilla, electrifying their senses. For Aegon, it was a moment of revelation—a tantalizing rush of anticipation and desire, mingled with a profound sense of fulfilment. He felt the warmth of Reilla's touch, her closeness stirring a deep-seated joy that surpassed any expectation. Her lips against his felt soft yet electric, igniting a fire within him that burned with the promise of a shared future.

Reilla, in turn, was swept away by the sensation of Aegon's kiss. It was tender yet full of promise, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness that spoke volumes of their newfound union. In that moment, she felt a profound connection to him, as if every worry and doubt melted away in the embrace of his love. His kiss was a revelation, stirring in her a sense of wonder and contentment, reaffirming her choice and igniting a spark of excitement for the life they would build together.

The kiss was met with a resounding cheer from the crowd, the hall erupting in applause and joyful exclamations. Queen Alicent's eyes glistened with tears of happiness, her smile radiant as she watched her son and new daughter-in-law.

As Aegon and Reilla turned to face their guests, now united as one flesh, one heart, and one soul, the future seemed bright and full of promise. The assembled nobility rose to their feet, offering their congratulations and well-wishes, their voices blending into a harmonious celebration of the newlyweds.

In the midst of the jubilation, Aemond and Helaena shared a look of understanding and silent support, their presence a reminder of the bonds that held their family together amidst the turbulent times.

As the ceremony concluded, Aegon and Reilla made their way back down the aisle, hand in hand, ready to face the challenges and triumphs that lay ahead, united in their love and commitment to each other and their house.

They emerged from the sept, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, they were met with a resounding chorus of cheers and jubilation from the gathered smallfolk. The air was alive with excitement, and the streets teemed with people eager to catch a glimpse of their new king and queen consort.

Reilla, her heart swelling with gratitude and pride, stepped forward with grace and poise. She wore a gown of pristine white, her dark hair adorned with a simple circlet that glinted in the sunlight. With a gentle nudge and a whispered suggestion, she inclined her head in a respectful curtsey to the crowd, a gesture that spoke of humility and acknowledgment of their support.

"Your people adore you already, my King." Reilla murmured to Aegon, her voice soft with warmth as she gestured subtly for him to join in acknowledging their subjects.

Aegon hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the sea of faces before him. He felt Reilla's hand lightly on his arm, her voice urging him quietly to bow - a small yet meaningful gesture to the people who now looked to him for leadership and protection. Swallowing his nerves, Aegon followed her lead, bowing deeply with a genuine smile that conveyed his sincerity and determination to be a ruler who would listen and care for his people.

The smallfolk erupted into renewed cheers and applause, some throwing flowers and small tokens of goodwill at their feet - a sign of their hope and trust in the new monarchs. Aegon and Reilla exchanged a brief glance, their eyes alight with shared determination and mutual respect for each other's guidance.

"Together," Aegon whispered, his voice barely audible over the din.

Reilla squeezed his hand gently in affirmation, her gaze unwavering as they stood on the threshold of a new era, ready to face the challenges and joys that awaited them hand in hand.

Taglist: @481theralicat

[nixiefics]

Fire and Runes - Chapter One

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OC (Reilla)

Tropes: Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Targaryen typical incest, smut, canon typical violence and death, swearing, drinking

The clang of steel against steel echoed through the courtyard of Runestone as Reilla sparred with Ser Arlan Granes, the master-at-arms. Sweat glistened on her brow as she parried his strike, her movements swift and precise. Ser Arlan, a seasoned knight with greying hair and a weathered face, was relentless in his training, pushing Reilla to her limits.

"Good, Reilla," Ser Arlan praised as she deftly sidestepped his thrust. "Your form has improved greatly. Not keen for another tumble in the mud?"

"Not again soon, Ser," Reilla nodded, her focus unwavering as she countered with a series of quick strikes.

As they continued their sparring session, Gerold Royce approached, his stern visage softened by a hint of pride as he watched his niece. He waited until the bout concluded, and Reilla had disarmed Ser Arlan with a final, decisive blow.

"Well done, Reilla," Gerold said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Your mother would be proud."

Reilla smiled, breathing heavily as she lowered her practice sword. "Thank you, Uncle Gerold."

Ser Arlan bowed to her and took her training sword with a proud grin. He wandered off towards the armoury with a light whistle, still as lithe and nimble as any young knight.

Gerold cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious. "We need to talk. The political climate is shifting rapidly, and there are matters we must discuss."

Reilla followed Gerold to a shaded alcove overlooking the courtyard where her Aunt Alyssa sat with a furrowed brow. Reilla wiped her own with a cloth, her curiosity piqued by her uncle's grave tone.

"What news do you have, Uncle?" Reilla asked, her violet eyes studying his face.

"The realm is on the brink of war," Gerold said, his voice heavy with concern. "King Viserys is dead. The factions are gathering their forces, and it is only a matter of time before the bloodshed begins."

Reilla's heart sank at the thought of the impending conflict. She had heard tales of the devastation wrought by dragons, and the prospect of a civil war between her own kin filled her with dread. Yet, there was also a sense of duty and loyalty that stirred within her.

"What of the betrothal?" Reilla asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "Does it still stand?"

Reilla had always known that her future was tied to Aegon Targaryen. The betrothal had been arranged by King Viserys as a means of securing her safety and ensuring her loyalty to the crown. Reilla always felt a mixture of apprehension and curiosity when she thought of her betrothal. She wondered what kind of man Aegon had become, and whether he shared the same sense of duty and honour that she held dear. The thought of marrying a stranger was daunting, yet she knew it was her duty to uphold the alliance.

Gerold exchanged a glance with Alyssa who nodded solemnly, her expression one of resolve. Alyssa was a great political strategist and Reilla admired her strength of character for it - and hoped that she might one day be just as good at politics. "Queen Alicent and the Hand plan to crown Aegon immediately," Alyssa said. "Your betrothal to Aegon remains intact, and so your presence in King's Landing is crucial."

"What of Rhaenyra's claim?" Reilla fidgeted with the ring around her thumb, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. "She will not take lightly to her birthright being taken by her younger brother."

"Queen Alicent has a declaration from King Viserys, signed on his deathbed, proclaiming Aegon the heir." Alyssa said quietly, blue eyes piercing. "Rhaenyra will still fight it, but Aegon has a valid claim now. He is male."

Reilla frowned down at her feet. It was unfair that all of Westeros were vying for a male heir over Rhaenyra - Reilla herself had been running Runestone successfully for several years now and so, she thought, was no less qualified than Ser Gerold to do it. "What should I expect?"

Gerold placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "King's Landing is a different world from the Vale. It is a city of danger but also one of opportunity. You must be cautious, but also assertive. Remember who you are, and do not let anyone undermine you."

Alyssa stepped forward, taking Reilla’s hands in her own. "You must be vigilant, my dear. The court is filled with deception. Trust few, and always keep your wits about you."

"I will, Aunt Alyssa," Reilla promised, feeling a swell of gratitude for the woman who had been a mother to her. "I will make my House proud."

The arrival of a delegation from King's Landing marked a turning point in Reilla's life. The letter, sealed with a gold sigil of House Targaryen, was delivered to her by a stern-faced messenger. Reilla broke the seal with trembling hands, her eyes scanning the elegant script.

Princess Reilla,

It is with great anticipation that I extend an invitation to you to join us at the Red Keep. The realm is in need of unity, and your presence is requested as we navigate these turbulent times. Your betrothal to Aegon Targaryen remains a cornerstone of our alliance, and we look forward to welcoming you to King's Landing.

Regards,

Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower

The days leading up to her departure were a whirlwind of preparations. Reilla's chambers were filled with the constant hum of activity as seamstresses, maids, and couriers bustled in and out, ensuring that every detail of her journey and her new life in King's Landing was meticulously arranged.

New gowns were a necessity, as her usual riding habits were deemed inappropriate for life at court and for her role as a future queen. Reilla stood still as seamstresses measured her, their hands deftly working to create dresses that would befit her new status. The fabrics were rich and luxurious, in colors of deep emerald, royal blue, and regal gold. The gowns, however, felt restrictive in a way her usual riding pants and tunic never did. Each dress was heavy with layers of silk and brocade, the bodices cinched tight, making her feel as though she were being squeezed into a form that was not her own.

"I can't breathe in these," Reilla muttered under her breath as she tried on yet another gown, this one a deep green with intricate silver embroidery. "How do they expect me to fight or ride if I can't even move properly?"

Alyssa, ever the practical aunt, smiled gently at her. "You will learn, my dear. It’s all part of the role you are stepping into. But remember, your strength lies not just in your ability to ride or fight, but in your presence and your wisdom. These gowns are merely symbols of the power you wield."

Reilla sighed but nodded, understanding the truth in her aunt's words. She stood before the mirror, trying to see herself as others would see her - regal, composed, every bit a queen.

Choosing her wedding cloak proved to be another significant task. According to tradition, Aegon would remove her cloak during the ceremony and replace it with his own house cloak, symbolizing her transition from her family's protection to his. Reilla wanted this gesture to carry a deeper meaning. She spent hours in the family vault, searching through the cloaks of her ancestors, each one telling a story of strength, honour, and legacy.

Finally, she found the cloak her mother had worn at her own wedding. It was a beautiful piece, made of rich bronze fabric adorned with black gemstones, representing their house banner - black iron studs on bronze, bordered with runes. Holding it in her hands, Reilla felt a surge of emotion. This cloak represented her mother's strength and legacy, a reminder that she was her mother's daughter, bound by blood and heritage, and no one else's - not even Daemon's.

"This is the one," she said firmly, her voice steady as she looked at Alyssa, who had accompanied her. "I will wear my mother's cloak. It will be a statement that I am a Royce first and foremost."

Alyssa nodded approvingly. "It’s a fine choice, Reilla. Your mother would be proud."

On the morning of her departure, Reilla stood before the gates of Runestone, her horse saddled and ready. The early morning light cast a golden glow over the stone walls, and the air was filled with a sense of both anticipation and sorrow. Gerold and Alyssa were there to see her off, their faces lined with worry and hope.

Gerold stepped forward, his usually stern face softened by the emotion of the moment. "Be safe, Reilla," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "Remember your training and your heritage. You are a Royce first and foremost."

Reilla embraced her uncle, feeling the strength and warmth of his arms around her. "I will, Uncle," she promised, her voice steady. "I will make you proud."

Alyssa hugged her tightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You are destined for greatness, my dear. Trust in yourself and in the legacy of your mother. The Vale will always be your home, and we will always be here for you."

Reilla nodded, feeling the weight of their words settle over her like a mantle. She mounted her horse, her gaze fixed on the horizon. As she rode away from the Vale, the wind whipping through her hair, she felt a sense of determination and purpose. She was heading towards an uncertain future, but she would face it with the strength and courage of her ancestors.

Each day on the journey from Runestone to King's Landing brought new landscapes and challenges, and as they traversed through the rugged terrain of the Vale, Reilla found herself reflecting on the weight of her responsibilities and the uncertainties that lay ahead.

They rode through towering mountains that seemed to touch the sky, the air crisp and invigorating. Reilla often found solace in the natural beauty around her, the sweeping vistas and cascading waterfalls a stark contrast to the looming shadow of war that darkened her thoughts.

Ser Arlan, ever watchful at her side, maintained a steady presence. He was more than her protector; he was a mentor, offering guidance and wisdom during their long days on the road. They discussed strategy, the political climate in King's Landing, and the delicate balance of power among the noble houses.

One morning, as they camped in the foothills of the Riverlands, Reilla decided to join a hunt with her guards. It was a chance to enjoy her skill with a bow and arrow, a skill she had honed since childhood under the tutelage of House Royce's finest archers.

The woods were alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdsong as Reilla tracked a massive buck. She moved with silent grace, her steps sure and deliberate. Ser Arlan watched from a distance, a faint smile on his weathered face, as Reilla lined up her shot.

The arrow flew true, striking the buck cleanly and bringing it down with a single shot. Reilla approached the fallen stag with a mix of pride and satisfaction. She instructed her guards to prepare the stag's head and rack for transport, a grin tugging at her lips. "This," she declared with mock seriousness, "shall be my wedding gift to Prince Aegon. A token of my prowess with a bow."

Her guards chuckled at her jest, but Reilla's thoughts turned sombre as they resumed their journey towards King's Landing. She wondered what Aegon would think of her, a girl from the Vale raised in the shadow of mountains, with a heart torn between duty and desire for a peaceful realm.

The looming war weighed heavily on her mind. She knew that her betrothal to Aegon was not just a union of hearts but a strategic alliance forged in the fires of political necessity. As they neared the capital, Reilla couldn't help but think of Daemon Targaryen.

She harboured no illusions about him - his ambitions, his ruthlessness, and his calculated manoeuvres to secure power. His absence in her life had left a void filled with questions and resentment. Yet, despite her feelings towards Daemon, Reilla knew that her destiny was entwined with House Targaryen. The alliance between their houses was meant to bring stability to a fractured realm, to unite the warring factions under a single banner.

As they finally approached the gates of the capital city, the sight of the Red Keep rising against the skyline filled Reilla with a mixture of awe and apprehension. The great castle seemed to loom over her, its towering walls a stark reminder of the power that resided within.

The guards at the gate recognized the sigil of House Royce, their armour gleaming in the sunlight as they ushered Reilla and her retinue through the bustling courtyard. The sounds of the city enveloped them - the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the calls of merchants hawking their wares, and the distant murmur of the people going about their daily lives.

Reilla dismounted gracefully, her riding habit dusted with the road's grime. She took a moment to straighten her attire, adjusting the cloak adorned with the Royce colours before stepping forward to follow the guards into the Great Hall.

Inside, the atmosphere was both grand and solemn. The Great Hall of the Red Keep was adorned with green banners bearing the sigil of House Targaryen in gold, their colours shimmering in the light streaming through stained glass windows. At the far end of the hall, Queen Alicent Hightower awaited her, flanked by her advisors and courtiers.

"Welcome to King's Landing, Princess Reilla," Alicent's voice carried across the hall with warmth and authority. "We have awaited your arrival with great anticipation."

Reilla curtsied gracefully before the queen, her violet eyes meeting Alicent's with respect. "Thank you, Your Grace," she replied, her voice steady despite the flurry of emotions within her. "It is an honour to be here."

Alicent's gaze lingered on Reilla for a moment, assessing the young woman who would soon join their court. "You have travelled far," the queen remarked, her tone measured. "I trust your journey was not too taxing?"

Reilla inclined her head slightly. "It was a challenging journey, Your Grace, but one I undertook with determination. I am grateful for the hospitality extended to me and my retinue."

Alicent nodded approvingly. "Your presence here marks a new chapter in the history of our realm."

As their conversation concluded, Reilla's attention shifted to the figure standing beside Queen Alicent - an young man whose presence exuded a sense of quiet intensity. Prince Aegon Targaryen stood tall and composed, his silver-blonde hair catching the light as he regarded her with a calculating gaze.

Aegon stepped forward with a faint smile playing on his lips, his violet eyes assessing Reilla with a keen intensity. "Princess Reilla," he greeted her, his voice smooth and assured. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Reilla met his gaze squarely, her own expression composed yet perceptive. She took his hand in a firm grip, noting the strength and confidence in his demeanour, but also sensing an underlying vulnerability. "The pleasure is mine, Prince Aegon," she replied, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Aegon's violet eyes studied her intently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. His usual facade of confidence wavered, revealing a hint of inner turmoil. "I have heard much about you," he admitted softly, his tone thoughtful. "Your skills and your unwavering loyalty to your house."

Reilla inclined her head slightly, her violet eyes meeting his with understanding. "And I have heard tales of you as well, Prince Aegon," she replied diplomatically, sensing the weight of his unspoken burdens. "It is an honour to stand before you."

Aegon's lips twitched slightly, a wry hint of amusement playing across his features. "Let us dispense with formalities, shall we?" he suggested, a flicker of vulnerability visible in his eyes. "We are to be wed, after all. It would be prudent to become acquainted."

Reilla's lips quirked in response, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She appreciated his candour and the subtle admission of their shared uncertainty. "Indeed," she agreed warmly, feeling a measure of relief at his easy manner. "It seems we have much to discuss."

As they settled into the quiet of Reilla's chambers within the Red Keep, Ser Criston Cole stood vigilantly by the door, his presence a reminder of the propriety expected of their meeting. Aegon poured himself a goblet of wine but hesitated before taking a sip, acutely aware of Ser Criston's watchful gaze.

Reilla, seated across from Aegon, observed his hesitation with a gentle smile. "What weighs heaviest on your mind, Prince Aegon?"

"Straight into the thick of it, then?" He chuckled and sat down, sighing as he pondered the question. Aegon glanced towards Ser Criston briefly before meeting Reilla's gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his violet eyes. "Rhaenyra, my sister," he admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. "She was always the favoured one - the true heir, groomed from birth to wear the crown. I've spent my life in her shadow, second place in everyone's eyes."

Reilla nodded empathetically, understanding the weight of familial expectations all too well. "And your mother?" she inquired with curiosity.

"Queen Alicent," Aegon said her name with a mixture of reverence and resentment. "She sees me as a pawn in her game for power, a means to secure the throne she believes rightfully belongs to our line. I've never felt like I belonged to her."

Their conversation unfolded with an undercurrent of restraint, Ser Criston's silent vigil a constant reminder of their roles and the propriety of their meeting. Reilla, by rights a princess of the realm, shared her own apprehensions about leaving the familiar confines of the Vale, where her training and sense of purpose had been forged.

"Duty can be a heavy burden," she admitted, her voice steady with resolve. "Especially when it demands sacrifices we may not be prepared to make."

Aegon nodded solemnly, his features softened by Reilla's understanding. "I've never desired the crown," he confessed quietly. "It's a weight I fear I may not bear - never groomed to rule, always feeling inadequate."

Reilla regarded him with empathy, her gaze momentarily meeting Ser Criston's before returning to Aegon. "Yet here we stand," she said, gently taking his hand, "bound by duty and fate, navigating uncertain waters together."

Their conversation deepened into shared hopes and aspirations. Aegon spoke of a longing for peace and stability, far removed from the turmoil of court intrigue and familial expectations.

"I want a realm where people can live without fear," he admitted, his voice earnest. "Where the burdens of power don't overshadow the need for compassion and justice."

Reilla's eyes softened with understanding. "And I want to honour the legacy of my bloodlines," she confided, her voice tinged with quiet determination. "To bring strength through unity, and to forge alliances that endure beyond the whims of politics."

As the evening wore on their shared vulnerability became a bridge, connecting their hearts and minds in ways that mere duty could never achieve. When the hour grew late, Aegon escorted Reilla to her chambers' door, Ser Criston following respectfully behind. The weight of their conversation lingered in the air like a promise of understanding and support.

"Goodnight, Princess Reilla," Aegon said softly, his gaze holding hers with newfound sincerity.

"Goodnight, Prince Aegon," Reilla replied, a gentle smile curving her lips. In that moment, she felt a glimmer of hope for their future - a future built not just on duty, but on mutual respect and the shared journey they had begun together.

As she settled into her chambers, the sounds of King's Landing fading into the background, Reilla reflected on the day's events. She had arrived as a paragon of House Royce, but she knew that her future now lay intertwined with House Targaryen. With Aegon by her side, she felt a renewed sense of purpose - a determination to navigate the treacherous waters of courtly intrigue and war with grace and strength.

The betrothal that had once seemed a distant obligation had now become a reality, and Reilla was ready to face it head-on. With the spirit of her mother guiding her, she closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting to the challenges and triumphs that lay ahead.

In the heart of King's Landing, amidst the echoes of a realm in turmoil, Reilla Royce prepared herself for the role she was destined to play - a role that would shape the fate of Westeros in the turbulent days to come.

As the days in King's Landing passed swiftly, Reilla found herself navigating the intricate web of court politics and preparations with a mixture of apprehension and determination. The Red Keep buzzed with activity, each corridor and chamber echoing with the footsteps of servants and nobles alike, all preparing for Aegon's coronation and the impending wedding.

Queen Alicent's guidance was a steady presence in Reilla's life during this tumultuous time. One evening, they strolled through the serene gardens of the Red Keep, the air fragrant with the scent of blooming roses and the distant sound of courtiers' voices.

"You must be vigilant," Alicent counselled, her tone serious yet warm as she glanced at Reilla. "The realm is divided, my dear. There are factions that would see us weakened, and your presence here is a symbol of unity and strength."

Reilla nodded thoughtfully, her gaze sweeping over the meticulously manicured hedges. "I will do my utmost, Your Grace," she replied earnestly. "Unity is our greatest asset in these troubled times."

As they continued their stroll, Reilla found herself increasingly drawn into the heart of court life. She attended meetings where strategies were discussed, listened to the concerns of advisors and lords, and observed the delicate dance of alliances and rivalries that shaped the future of the realm.

Amidst these preparations, Reilla and Aegon's interactions deepened. Initially reserved, Aegon gradually opened up to her, sharing his anxieties about his impending role and the weight of expectation upon him.

One evening, in the quiet of Reilla's chambers, Aegon confessed softly, "I never asked for this, Reilla. The crown feels like a noose around my neck, tightening with each passing day."

Reilla, sitting across from him, reached out to touch his hand, offering silent support. "You are not alone in this burden, Aegon," she reassured him gently. "Together, we will navigate these troubled waters."

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, founded on mutual understanding and a shared sense of duty. They discussed the challenges ahead, strategized on how to unify the realm, and found solace in each other's company amidst the chaos of courtly life.

However, as plans for the coronation took shape, a tense discussion arose during a special council meeting in the Small Council chamber. Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, proposed that Aegon's coronation should take place in the Dragonpit - a symbolic gesture to reaffirm Targaryen supremacy and strength.

Reilla listened intently, but a gnawing worry grew within her. When the opportunity arose, she voiced her concern respectfully yet firmly, "My lords, I fear the Dragonpit may not be the safest choice given the current tensions. It is an open venue, vulnerable to potential threats."

Otto Hightower, a stern figure with a reputation for pragmatism, frowned slightly. "Princess Reilla, the Dragonpit has hosted many royal ceremonies without incident. It is a historic site, a symbol of his Targaryen lineage."

Reilla met his gaze evenly, her violet eyes betraying her concern. "I understand its significance, my lord Hand. However, in these uncertain times, perhaps the Great Hall of the Red Keep would be a more secure option. It can be fortified easily, ensuring the safety of all attendees."

The council chamber fell silent as the advisors exchanged glances. Finally, Aegon spoke up, his voice carrying a note of consideration, "Reilla makes a valid point, Lord Hightower. Safety must be our foremost concern."

After a moment of deliberation, Otto Hightower nodded reluctantly. "Very well. The Hall it shall be. Preparations to include the smallfolk will have to be changed but it will be done."

"We would hold a viewing," Reilla said, swallowing thickly. "After Prince Aegon is officially crowned before the court, we could present him to the smallfolk in front of the Great Sept of Baelor - it would allow him to be seen while also allowing him to be protected - the Sept can also be fortified in case of… unrest."

Aegon clapped his hands and grinned at Otto. "Brilliant, this little wife of mine. Have it arranged, Lord Hand."

Otto bowed his head and shared a look with Queen Alicent, who had been watching Reilla with some measure of scepticism and awe. "Yes, your Grace."

With the matter settled, Reilla felt a surge of relief mingled with determination. She was beginning to find her voice in the intricate dance of court politics, asserting herself not only as Aegon's future bride but as a voice of reason and foresight in shaping the realm's future.

As they left the council chamber, Aegon clasped Reilla's hand gratefully. "Thank you," he murmured softly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and admiration. "For understanding for making it a smaller ceremony."

Reilla smiled warmly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "We are in this together, Aegon," she replied with conviction. "As partners, facing the challenges ahead as one. I would see you protected at all costs."

Their journey towards the coronation and wedding continued, each step bringing them closer not only to the culmination of their union but to a future where their shared vision of unity and stability might take root amidst the complexities of the Iron Throne.

However, amidst the preparations and political manoeuvres, Reilla sought a private audience with Alicent one evening in the Queen's solar. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candles, casting flickering shadows on the ornate tapestries that adorned the walls.

Reilla sipped at a vintage of Arbor red that Aegon had introduced her to, brows furrowed in though. "Why did King Viserys not declare openly before he passed? If he meant to strengthen Aegon's claim, why not make it more public?"

Alicent's expression softened slightly. "Viserys was a complex man, torn between familial duty and political manoeuvring. I believe he came to realize Aegon's potential too late. He had been muttering for several nights that he had a dream of Aegon on the throne - the prince that was promised. I believe he had time to reflect with the Gods on his children and realised that Aegon had been the heir he had been longing for all along."

The older woman opened a delicate box and presented a letter to Reilla bearing the King's seal. It was a declaration of Viserys' wish to declare Aegon as the rightful heir of the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms - signed by three witnesses and the king himself (though shakily).

Reilla handed the letter back and bit her lip. "Rhaenyra will claim it a forgery. She will fight for the throne - all the lords bowed to her, once."

"I understand that. I have been trying for years to reconcile Rhaenyra to the fact that her father might change his mind but she recused herself and is now isolated on Dragonstone with Daemon, who is no doubt dripping poison into her ear." Alicent replied gravely, "You must stand by Aegon, Reilla. Protect him, guide him, as his queen."

As Reilla absorbed the weight of Alicent's revelation, she nodded slowly, a sense of duty and determination settling upon her shoulders. "I will do whatever is necessary for Aegon and for the realm." Even if it just meant spiting Daemon Targaryen.

Alicent's gaze softened with approval. "You possess a strength and resilience that will serve you well, Reilla. The realm is fortunate to have you by Aegon's side."

Watching Alicent's composed demeanour, Reilla felt a surge of resolve. She had stepped into a role far greater than she had imagined, but with Aegon and Alicent's guidance, she would navigate the challenges ahead with courage and grace.

Later that evening, as Reilla looked out over the moonlit city from her chamber window, she reflected on the path that lay before them. Aegon's coronation would mark the beginning of a new era - one fraught with uncertainty yet filled with the promise of unity and renewal. And as she thought of Aegon, of the burdens he would soon bear, Reilla reaffirmed her commitment to him and to their shared destiny, whatever it might bring.

The days leading up to the coronation were filled with tension and anticipation. In an effort to find some peace amidst the chaos, Reilla and Princess Helaena Targaryen decided to escape the confines of the Red Keep for a beachside picnic. The salty breeze and the rhythmic crashing of the waves offered a refreshing contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the court.

They settled on a soft blanket, a spread of delicacies laid out before them. The sea stretched out endlessly, its vast expanse mirroring the uncertainty of their futures. Helaena, with her gentle demeanour and keen interest in nature, greeted Reilla with a warm smile that reflected her genuine curiosity about the world around her.

"Cousin Reilla," Helaena said warmly, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard much about your bravery and grace."

Reilla returned her smile, touched by Helaena's kind words. "Thank you, Princess Helaena. The pleasure is mine," she replied graciously, taking in the serene atmosphere of the beach.

Helaena's eyes sparkled with genuine interest as she glanced at the shoreline, where seabirds dipped and soared. "Isn't it marvellous?" she remarked softly, gesturing to the sea. "The way nature weaves its own stories."

Reilla nodded, drawn into Helaena's appreciation for the natural world. "Indeed, it is," she agreed warmly. "Each wave, each bird, has its own tale to tell, if we take the time to listen."

They continued their conversation, Helaena sharing anecdotes about her explorations along the beach and her fondness for observing the behaviors of sea creatures and birds. Reilla found herself enjoying Helaena's gentle spirit and insightful observations, which offered a refreshing contrast to the intense political discussions that often dominated court life.

"I must admit, Helaena," Reilla said with a smile, "your perspective on life is quite refreshing. It's easy to get caught up in the complexities of court."

Helaena nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "I find solace in nature," she confessed softly. "It reminds me that there's a beauty in simplicity, a rhythm that grounds us amidst the chaos."

Their conversation drifted from topic to topic, weaving through tales of court intrigue and Helaena's musings on the future of the realm. Reilla appreciated Helaena's thoughtful insights and genuine curiosity, finding in her a kindred spirit who valued both inner reflection and outward exploration.

As they sat on the blanket, their conversation naturally turned to Aegon, who was soon to be crowned king. Helaena paused, her gaze thoughtful as she spoke.

"You know, Aegon has always been burdened by the weight of expectations," Helaena mused softly, plucking a shell from the sand and turning it over in her hands. "Mother and grandfather, they see him as an instrument in their bid for power. But you, Reilla, you could be different for him."

Reilla regarded Helaena with interest, sensing a depth to her words. "How so?" she inquired gently, curious about the princess's unique insight.

"You understand him in ways that others may not," Helaena explained, her voice carrying a note of sincerity. "You see beyond the crown and the politics. You see the person—the doubts, the fears, the dreams he holds close. That's a gift, Reilla."

Reilla considered Helaena's words, struck by their honesty. "I want to support Aegon," she admitted earnestly. "To help him find his own path, not just the one others expect of him."

Helaena nodded in understanding. "You can guide him, Reilla," she said gently. "Together, you can shape the future of the realm in ways that defy expectations. Aegon needs someone who believes in him, who sees his potential for greatness."

Their conversation continued, weaving through Helaena's observations on Aegon's inner struggles and the role Reilla could play in his journey as king. Reilla listened intently, grateful for Helaena's unique perspective and genuine concern for her brother.

"As you prepare for the coronation and the wedding," Helaena concluded thoughtfully, "remember this: Aegon may doubt himself, but with you by his side, he can find the strength to rise above those doubts."

Reilla smiled gratefully at Helaena, touched by her insight and encouragement. "Thank you, Helaena," she said sincerely. "Your words have given me much to think about."

Watching Helaena disappear into the distance, where the sand met the waves, Reilla felt a sense of gratitude for the unexpected friendship they had forged. In Helaena, she found not only a companion in the quiet moments of reflection but also a reminder of the beauty and serenity that could be found amidst the challenges of courtly life.

As the sun dipped low over King's Landing, its rays casting a warm, golden hue across the city, Reilla stood on the balcony of her chambers, her thoughts swirling with anticipation and apprehension. The bustling streets below echoed with the sounds of preparation, a stark contrast to the serenity of her quiet moment alone.

The realm was on edge, teetering on the brink of conflict, yet amidst the turmoil, there was a glimmer of hope—hope that she and Aegon could forge a path to peace and stability. She gazed out at the distant horizon, where the last vestiges of daylight painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, contemplating the weight of responsibility that lay ahead.

In the distance, the rhythmic beat of drums and the blare of horns signalled the arrival of noble houses, their banners fluttering proudly in the evening breeze. The coronation loomed large on the morrow, a solemn occasion that would mark Aegon's ascension to the Iron Throne and their union as king and queen.

Lost in her thoughts, Reilla was startled when she sensed Aegon's presence behind her. She turned to find him standing quietly at the entrance to her balcony, his expression a mixture of weariness and uncertainty. Without a word, he crossed the threshold to join her, his eyes scanning the cityscape below.

"Aegon," she murmured softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "Are you alright?"

He met her gaze, his shoulders tense with the weight of impending responsibility. "I couldn't sleep," he confessed quietly, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "There's so much resting on tomorrow."

Reilla nodded in understanding, her heart aching for the burden he carried. "Come," she said gently, guiding him back into the warmth of her chambers. "Sit with me."

She led him to the deep sofa in her sitting room, guiding him to lay his head in her lap. Aegon hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of allowing himself this vulnerability, but he finally acquiesced, resting against her with a sigh. Reilla smoothed his tousled hair with a gentle touch, her fingers tracing soothing circles on his brow.

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the only sound the soft murmur of the city below and the steady rhythm of their breathing. Reilla began to hum a soft, comforting melody, a lullaby Alyssa had sung to her in times of uncertainty. The familiar notes filled the room, wrapping Aegon in a blanket of reassurance.

As the tension gradually melted from his frame, Aegon's grip on Reilla's dress loosened, his breathing growing slow and even. His face, usually etched with worry, softened in repose. Reilla continued to stroke his hair tenderly, her heart swelling with a deep affection for the man who would soon be her husband and king.

In the quiet of that intimate moment, with the weight of their shared destiny pressing upon them, Reilla found solace in the simple act of offering comfort. She knew that tomorrow would bring challenges they could scarcely imagine, but in this fleeting respite, she held onto the belief that their bond would be their strength.

As Aegon drifted into a peaceful slumber, Reilla sat with him, her gaze fixed on his serene expression. She whispered words of encouragement into the night, promising to stand by his side through whatever trials awaited them. In that quiet sanctuary, amidst the swirl of uncertainty outside, they found a brief respite—a moment of peace that fortified them both for the trials ahead.

[nixiefics]

Aemond's Marriage Options for Fire and Runes

Cassandra Baratheon

Ellyn Baratheon

Maris Baratheon

Floris Baratheon

Rosyn Tully

[nixiefics]

Fire and Runes - Prologue

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OC (Reilla)

Tropes: Arranged Marriage

Warnings: Targaryen typical incest, smut, canon typical violence and death, swearing, drinking

Daemon Targaryen stood in the dimly lit chamber of his quarters, his hands clenched into fists as he read the letter laid out before him. The candlelight flickered ominously, casting shadows that seemed to dance mockingly around him.

Your Highness,

It is with great sorrow that we received the news of the tragic passing of Lady Rhea Royce. It saddens me that she met her untimely end in a hunting accident, something she was so passionate about. Our hearts mourn her loss, and we extend our deepest condolences to you in this time of grief.

Regards, Viserys I Targaryen

King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm

Daemon's violet eyes narrowed with cold calculation as he absorbed the words. Rhea's death had been no accident; he had orchestrated it with meticulous precision to sever the ties that bound him to a woman he detested. The marriage had been a political alliance, one he had never wished for and had sought to dissolve by any means necessary.

There was no room for guilt in Daemon's heart. Only a chilling resolve and a sense of relief that his scheme had succeeded. Before he could ponder further, a soft knock at the door broke the silence. "Enter," Daemon commanded, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within.

Ser Gerold Royce, nephew of Rhea and harbouring deep-seated animosity towards Daemon, stepped into the room, his expression sombre yet tinged with a hint of satisfaction. "Daemon," Gerold began carefully, "We heard that you received a raven from the King and I have come with glad news."

Daemon regarded Gerold with a steely gaze. "Speak," he commanded, his tone brooking no hesitation.

Gerold hesitated briefly, then continued with calculated intent. "Rhea bore you a daughter, Daemon. Before her untimely demise."

Daemon's jaw clenched involuntarily, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. Rhea's child.

Daemon's mind raced, his thoughts a tumultuous storm of disdain and apprehension. A child would solidify the marriage in the eyes of the court, tethering him to Rhea's memory in ways he abhorred; something he had not accounted for when he had conceded to share her bed nine months earlier, as he had always thought her barren.

Gerold's voice carried a hint of glee as he continued, knowing the impact of his words. "House Royce has made preparations to foster the child in the Vale until the time is right. She is already betrothed, by the agreement between House Royce and King Viserys, to marry young Aegon Targaryen when the time comes."

"I need to see her," Daemon stated tersely, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within. "Bring her to me, Gerold. She is mine to acknowledge, if only to ensure she is truly mine."

Gerold's eyes sparked at having unsettled Daemon, yet he maintained his composure. Daemon's implication of Rhea's infidelity would not stand. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Daemon. She was born healthy with a head of thick, silver hair and her eyes already tinge lavender. Reilla is now a ward of House Royce, and she will remain in the Vale until she is of age."

Rage flared within Daemon, his control slipping. With a swift, furious motion, he swept a glass off the table, shattering it against the stone wall. "You dare defy me, Royce?" he hissed, his voice a dangerous whisper.

Gerold stood firm, his satisfaction evident despite Daemon's outburst. "She is under our protection, and it will remain that way. You will not lay a hand on her."

Daemon's eyes blazed with fury, but he knew better than to push further in this moment. With a final glare at Gerold, he stormed out of the room, his mind a seething vortex of anger and resentment.

Outside, the air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the storm within him. Without a second thought, he made his way to where Caraxes awaited. The dragon's crimson scales glinted in the moonlight as it sensed its rider's agitation.

Daemon mounted Caraxes, the dragon's powerful muscles tensing beneath him. With a mighty roar, Caraxes took to the sky, wings beating against the night air. As they soared over the Vale, Daemon's thoughts turned to Reilla, the daughter he could not reach.