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controld3vil · 7 months ago

Text

the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole.

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead.

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle.

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one.

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification.

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that.

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts.

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother.

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding.

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often.

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper.

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you.

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes.

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.”

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb.

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially.

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality.

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob.

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds.

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?”

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,”

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy.

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned.

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier.

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered.

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you.

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze.

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage.

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish.

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are.

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle.

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential.

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced.

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies.

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses.

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship.

“No,”

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply.

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying?

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects.

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,”

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly.

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.”

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover.

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen.

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city.

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another.

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face.

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king.

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure. You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this.

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself.

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire.

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome.

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.”

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes.

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you.

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted bloodshed as much as him.

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dried-mushroom · 7 months ago

Text

Reunited

Gwayne Hightower x fem! niece! reader

Warnings: team green (Guys I'm a team black girly but the Hightowers are just too fine), uncle-niece incest, getting caught, and PIV sex.

Note: I know in the show Gwayne is meant to be the older brother but for the plot of this, he'll be the younger brother of Alicent (Like he is in the books)

Summary: You were the 2nd eldest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, and you and your uncle, Gwanye, always had a connection much like your step-sister and her uncle have. After being sent away from the Red Keep to Oldtown after being caught with you in a compromising situation years ago, Gwayne returns, and you both are finally reunited, and he asks for your hand.

You adored Gwayne, ever since your mother had introduced you to him when you were near the age of ten and five and he was ten and seven. Gwayne quite liked you, and you him. You both spent a concerning amount of time together, he had taught you how to ride a horse and wield a sword and in return, you'd embroider the Hightower sigil into his tunics and read to him late at night, until the early morning, where you'd most likely fell asleep next to him, his gentle hold on you more akin to a lover than an uncle. You remember the day that he was made to leave Kings Landing, a gloomy day at that and you partially blamed yourself, because if you weren't caught with him, in such a situation, he would still be here.

"Perhaps if you win your tourney tomorrow I will let you taint my virtue, uncle."

You had approached him in the training yard, watching him joust his spire, winning effortlessly, smirking at you the whole time. You rolled your eyes in jest as he seemed amused by your presence, he sauntered over to you,

"Good morrow my sweet niece, come to see me practice?"

"Is it really practice if you're just winning, Uncle Mhm?"

You smiled back him, hand reaching up, stroking his bicep through the material of his thin shirt, making his reaction turn from more of a playful gaze to a lustful stare. Gwayne knew you wanted him and gods forbid, he wanted you as desperately. You both knew it was wrong, the late-night visits, the lingering touches, the blatant flirting but you both couldn't resist the temptation. He disregarded his sword, opting to stroke your soft hair instead, staring down at you.

"Well, my princess, how else would I win the tourney then?"

Your eyes lit up and you had an idea, it was completely immoral and wrong but god you wanted him so badly it hurt, you craved to be more than uncle and niece.

"Well, Kepus, perhaps I have a motivator for you to win tomorrow."

Gwayne saw the glint in your eye and he couldn't help but glance down at your cleavage whilst you spoke, making him hard in his breeches when you spoke the next words he almost finished right there and then.

"Perhaps if you win your tourney tomorrow I will let you taint my virtue, uncle."

He smirked at your boldness and leant down to your ear,

"M'lady I sure hope you know what you're implying and what you're getting yourself into."

You smirked back at him, moving your hand to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath your hand.

"Of course, I know what I'm implying and I want you, Uncle. Good luck for tomorrow."

You walked away from him, leaving him breathless, a knowing smile on your face because you knew he was the best knight in Kings Landing, of course, he was going to win.

Moans and grunts were heard throughout Gwayne's chambers, the echo of his hips hitting against your pelvis was so loud, that you weren't surprised you both were caught. Gwayne tucked his head into the crook of your neck, nipping softly at the tender skin while his calloused hands palmed at your plush thighs and your hands raked at his back, your legs resting on Gwayne's shoulders, making his cock bump your cervix with every thrust. You knew he was close, the stuttering of his hips, how tense his muscles were and his hands gripped you like a vice. You began to play with his copper hair, entangling your hand in his soft hair and tugging softly, making him groan against your skin. His lips reached your chest, a hand leaving your thighs to grope at your breasts, his hand playing with your nipple while his mouth encircled the other, nipping softly at your sensitive skin, making you whimper while his hips still rutted into yours, much like an animal in heat.

"Fuck, my sweet niece, you feel like fucking heaven. Gods I won't last long, can I spill in you please?"

"Yes, please Kepus don't stop."

Gwayne loved hearing your mother tongue, you knew high valyrian better than all your siblings and even though he couldn't understand the language it always made him hot under the collar hearing you speak, especially when you read of the Targaryen histories to him late at night, your soft smooth voice was always a comfort to him.

It took only a few more thrusts and Gwyane's hands on your body for you to cum on his cock, squeezing, milking him for all he was worth. Gwyane fell slack against you, body twitching in pleasure as he emptied himself in you. Before you both could utter a word, your mother and grandfather had burst into the door, mouths agape at the scene in front of them, the Queen's own brother fucking his niece, her own daughter on his table in his chambers. You couldn't even defend yourself or Gwayne before Otto grabbed Gwayne by his hair and dragged him out of his chambers, his breeches loose on his hips, as Otto began to lecture him,

"Do you know what you've done? You've just sullied your future Queen. How are we going to marry her to her brother now, any suggestions my son?"

You're face burned as you felt the scornful stare from your own mother, who could see how debauched you looked, dress ripped and bunched up around your thighs, hair messy and a fine sheet of sweat covered you, you just silently prayed to the seven that she could not see Gwayne's spent dripping out of you. You swallowed cautiously and began to speak,

"Mother, I can explain-"

"There is nothing to explain. This didn't happen...I will see to it that the maesters bring moon tea to your chambers. As for my brother, my father and I shall discuss what will happen."

"Please Mother, don't blame Gwayne, it was I who pursued him."

Your mother didn't care to listen to your pleas and that was the last time you saw Gwayne. Not even a morrow later Otto had sent off his son, to Oldtown, not even letting you bid him farewell to the man you secretly wished to marry. You had cried for days on end, opting to stay in your chambers rather than face your family who judged you for your inappropriate behaviour with your uncle (You were a bit taken back considering Rhaenyra faced no consequences for the same acts with Daemon) resulting in you being subjected to cruel rumours, had you gone mad? Were you ill?

It took weeks until you could stand to see the familiar faces of your siblings, mother, father and grandfather without feeling entrapped by shame. They chose to forgive you for your...misguided transgressions (Although you disagreed, as you still longed for Gwayne's heart and yet him being in Oldtown, he longed for yours) and kindly decided to wed Aegon to Helaena instead of you, which were most grateful for, although you did feel sorry for your sweet sister having to deal with a drunken and whoring husband.

It was no longer than three weeks since your father's passing, Aegon's ascension to the throne, Jaehaerys death and funeral, years after your last interaction with Gwayne and the realm was in pure chaos, divided on who should sit the iron throne, your brother or your step-sister? You weren't directly involved in Aegon's actions, merely just there, observing how the cracks were beginning to fester between Aegon, Aemond and your mother. You tried burying your feelings towards Gwayne, knowing there was little to no chance of him returning nonetheless coming back into your arms.

It was a chill morning when you awoke, hearing the commotion from the servants outside. You groan, annoyed about how loud the girls were being outside your door, You looked at them confused when you opened the door, startling them.

"What is this commotion for?"

"Sorry Princess, it's just that Criston Cole is leaving today for the Riverlands and....Gwayne Hightower and his men from Oldtown will be attending with him. Today."

You thought you truly had gone mad when you heard those words come from the servant girl's mouth and without saying anything you shut the door in their faces. You shakily exhaled as anxiety ate at you. You couldn't resist the temptation of seeing Gwayne once more, the feelings that once encompassed you rose to the surface once again. You didn't wish to wait for your handmaidens and made yourself presentable, opting for a dark green dress, low-cut but not low enough to question virtues, and left your chambers.

You left the Red Keep, and entered the courtyard, spotting Criston Cole near his steed, you personally disliked the knight, knowing of his past and how he chose to spend their night with your mother instead of protecting the Queen and her now dead child, you didn't let Alicent know that you knew of her actions that night, preferring to keep it to yourself in case you ever needed leverage. You sighed before walking up to the man,

"Ser Cole, I heard of Gwayne Hightower's return, may I ask of his whereabouts?"

He huffed, seemingly annoyed at the mention of the other knight's name, alas you ignored it and gave him a questioning look. Despite his carelessness, Cole wasn't stupid and knew of your shared history with the older Hightower.

"Ser Gwayne should be at the stables m'lady, although we are set to leave soo-"

Cutting the knight off with a curt, 'Thank you' and you set off to walk to the stables, a good five-minute walk from the courtyard, allowing you to try to calm your nerves before seeing the man who stole your heart all those years ago. You approached the stables, and your breath hitched when you saw Gwayne, alone, tending to his horse, you walked closer before uttering,

"Uncle"

Gwayne's eyes lit up in surprise when he turned and saw you, how beautiful you had grown in the few years spent apart. He sent his house off with the stable boy before focussing his attention on you. He truly had missed you, refusing to be a suitor to any maidens in Oldtown, preferring to wait until he could ask for your hand.

"My sweet niece, oh how the years have made you even more beautiful."

Your mouth was agape when he turned and you saw how handsome he had gotten with age, mid-length copper hair framing his chiselled face, his vest was unbuttoned so you could see how toned he had gotten in Oldtown, tufts of reddish-brown hair littering his pale chest. He chuckled softly, noticing your staring, breaking you out of your stupor,

"Oh, Kepus, I'm so sorry about what happened, It is my fault you were made to lea-"

Gwayne walked towards you, softly stroking your hair with a calloused hand, with a small smile on his face, making you feel like a young girl again.

"My princess, It was my fault just as much as yours and it was years ago, the past no longer matters, although I must say my feelings towards you have not changed no matter the time spent apart."

You felt him grab your waist, pulling you closer, and whispering in your ear,

"Every time I stroked my cock, it was to the thought of you. Gods how I've missed you y/n."

You knew it was wrong but he was so tempting, a forbidden fruit. His touch lingered, his blue eyes staring adoringly into yours.

"Please uncle, how I have missed you so dearly, please tell me you're not leaving again after the Riverlands."

"Oh my sweet girl, I don't plan on it and I don't know if my sister ever told you but before I was made to leave, I asked her for your hand, I offered to take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife, after Targaryen tradition, like you once told me of. Alas, Alicent did not share the same sentiment."

Your eyes widened, he had wanted to wed you? Why wouldn't your mother tell you this? it would have spared you from your endless weeping for days after his departure and spared you from the ruthless rumours from court. You cupped the side of Gwayne's face, soft fingers, stroking his cheek gently, he leaned into your touch.

"Alicent did not mention it at all, all I was told was that you were made to leave after you had already left. Although dare I be so forward and ask, even after all these years, would you still want to wed me? I am a woman grown now and do not need my mother's permission and trust me when I utter these words, I have wanted to marry you since the age of ten and five and I still do."

Gwayne smiled against your hand and pulled you even closer, feeling the warmth of his bare chest against your own, his stubble tickling your face,

"Of course, I still do, my sweet y/n. I give you my word after that Cole's march to the Riverlands and we succeed, I will come back and we may not have Dragonstone but I will wed you, I swear on my life."

You didn't wait for him to continue before pressing your soft lips against his, he eagerly cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as his tongue poked at your lips, waiting for your permission, which you gave instantly, his tongue searching your mouth, dancing with your own. You suddenly felt his hardness press against your abdomen, throbbing against the material of his breeches. You snaked a hand down his chest to palm at the tightened fabric, making him groan into your mouth. He broke the kiss, admiring how swollen your lips looked under his ministrations.

"M'lady, please I need to take you once again. I have felt no other touch besides my own after you."

"But don't you have to leave soon? Cole sai-"

"Fuck Cole, he can wait, I need you y/n."

Your mouth was agape once again, you were surprised he had not taken a single lover after you, considering how attractive he really was. Alas, you couldn't resist Gwaynes's pleas and unlaced his breeches, pulling his erection, engorged and already leaking precum at your very touch. Gwayne pinned you against the wall of the stable between his hips and the wood, rutting his erection against your soft stomach, chasing any friction. He peppered kisses to your neck, nipping the skin, making you whine pathetically. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, pressing his cock against your pussy, which much to his delight, you weren't wearing any underclothes. Gwayne ran his cock through your folds, the tip bumping your clit with every thrust, making you moan and claw at his back.

Gwayne leant his forehead against yours when he entered you, waiting until you were comfortable before beginning to rut into you, setting a brutal pace, making your hands grip his shoulders and both finally got to enjoy each other once again. His hands gripped your hips to pull himself closer and you smiled against his chest knowing that soon you'd be wed to Gwayne, not having to worry about Alicent or even your own brother trying to force you into a marriage with some drunken lord. His hair fell into your face, seeing if he would enjoy it as much as he did when he was younger. You snaked your hand into his hair and pulled lightly, making him grunt against you,

"Fuck, if you keep doing that I'm not going to last."

As a tiny form of revenge, Gwayne moved a hand to rub little circles on your clit, making you whine, chasing your orgasm. As his pace increased, faster and deeper, his hand continued until he felt you clasp your thighs together, cumming on his cock, squeezing him deliciously. He lewdly brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting your wetness, groaning at your sweet taste, ensuring he'd definitely be trying you himself soon enough. You moaned into his ear,

"Please Kepus, Cum for me, I need you to fill me up, I wish to carry your child."

The image of you swollen with his child tipped him over the edge, his body tense as he finished in you, hips stuttering against yours, his forehead pressed against yours as he panted, coming down from his high. You stroked his back, your nerves coming back knowing he would have to leave you soon again. He slowly pulled out of you, making you feel empty without him. He helped you stand up properly and he noticed your frown and tipped your chin towards him with two fingers,

"What's wrong my sweet princess?"

"Promise me you will come back to me. I don't want you to leave again Gwayne."

He smiled down at you, brought you into an embrace and whispered into your hair,

"My love, I will never leave you, and you know what? Fuck Cole, he has enough men for the march to the Riverlands and Harrenhal, he doesn't need me there, surely he can't be that stupid he can't lead a small army."

You laughed, an attractive sound, against his chest.

"You'd be surprised Uncle, but thank you for staying, I have truly missed you."

"My love, I wouldn't leave you again for the world, plus that man is fucking insufferable....and I would much prefer to taste you again."

The end

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