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damn-stark · 4 months ago

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Chapter 14 Autumn sadness

Chapter 14 of Moonlight

A/N- Aemond stop being horny for your wife challenge (Impossible)

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, Aegon!, mentions of sexual harassment, angst, fluff, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x04

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“Here again?” You query while you shade your eyes from the luminous sun starting to peek over the roof of the Dragonpit. “Another rendezvous?” You smile.

Aemond looks away from Aerion in his arms and shakes his head. “No, it’s something else.”

You squint your eyes and probe for more. “Like?”

Before Aemond can answer a Kingsguard shouting catches your attention. “Stand back!”

You look over and notice some Smallfolk trying to approach the stairs in an attempt to reach you. “Princess!”

“Princess!”

“Over here!”

Unlike before this time the calls aren’t born from admiration and excitement, you can hear the desperation in their voice as they try and steal your attention. You can see the plea for help in their eyes, the helplessness, and the hunger.

“Bring us some food, please!”

Your help wasn’t widespread, you would feed and give money to those few people you came across. You were never allowed to do more than that, but your charity is well known now that they’re looking for any kind of help. Anything that can feed their growling stomachs, and needing children.

“<I told you,” Aemond remarks in High Valyrian. “Feed one stray dog and others won’t fail to follow to beg too.>”

You glance at him with a disturbed look before you take a look at all the people you can’t help when they need you the most. You have money, but what good is that when there’s hardly any food for them to buy? All you can do is offer them an apologetic look before you ignore them and drive your attention to this early morning adventure Aemond has yet to explain.

“So are you going to tell me why we’re here?” You pressure him to fill your curiosity.

Yet he just smirks at you, making you roll your eyes and focus on the building holding sacred power just under its surface.

Which is pretty unbelievable! These powerful dragons your family can ride, that you can use to burn down towns and people to ash are kept in chains under a stone building that they can easily destroy, or that can also easily be their death.

It’s crazy to think about, but it’s true isn't it? If your mother decided to come in secret with all the dragons at her side they could attack the Dragonpit, and the rubble could be the dragon's death. Your dragon's death…

Thinking of Astraea dying is worse than thinking of someone you love dying. You’ve known your dragon since you were a babe, literally, she hatched when you were only a few months old, and you haven't been apart a moment since then. She's your soulmate. Losing her would be like losing yourself.

But your mother wouldn’t be so desperate as to attack the Dragonpit and kill the power of your house, they’re sacred, powerful, and majestic. Better than any army of men…

“I wish we had more family to ride dragons,” you express what springs to mind.

“What do you mean?” Aemond quickly follows up on your comment.

“Just that,” you counter with growing excitement as this idea keeps unfurling. “If we had more family we could trust, they could ride the other dragons that reside at Dragonstone. All who had riders in the past.”

Aemond gives you all his attention as his interest is completely stolen by what you’re trying to get at.

“There’s Vermithor,” you list the dragons that live in Dragonstone, on your fingers. “Silverwing, and…my father's dragon, Seasmoke.”

Thoughts turn behind Aemond’s eye before it all seems to come to a halt as he comes up with a conclusion. “We don’t need the other dragons, we have Vhagar.”

You scoff and get closer to him to argue for a sole worry, his safety. “Yes, but Vhagar and Sunfyre alone won’t win against my mother's dragons. They have 5 to your two, or three if you count me,” you add.

“There’s Tessarion,” he brings up the forgotten son, making you quickly brush him off.

“Still not enough, he’s young—Do you want to know what Daemon wanted to do when he found out Aegon was crowned?” You share with a bit of desperation, which is why you don’t let him answer. “He wanted to attack King’s Landing with all the dragons. Tell me if Vhagar would’ve survived that?”

Aemond looks ahead and answers with silence because he knows you’re right. He doesn’t want to admit that though, so instead he deflects with a question that he’s been wondering about since the war started. “Would you have attacked me with them?”

There’s nothing to think about, you know this answer as clear as day. “No,” you admit confidently. “I wasn’t mad at you then. I told you…I missed you.”

Aemond’s guard falls, and his eye falls on Aerion before he looks back at you with his eye reflecting the sun's beams peeking over the roof.

“You know,” you finally have a chance to admit something you haven’t talked about, and something he hasn’t asked out of fear of what you’d say? Who knows.

“If I knew what Daemon wanted to do I…don’t think I would have let him go through with it. Even if I thought I hated you at the time.” You swallow thickly and a breath escapes past his lips, making him collect himself to finally dig into this matter that has been running in his head.

“Where were you?” He asks.

You sigh and briefly steal a glance at the approaching entrance. “We were in the North,” you say quietly. “When we arrived at Dragonstone Daemon was not there anymore. I didn’t even know about his plan until the next day after I returned from Driftmark. And when I did find out,” you pause and sigh deeply before you meet his curious eye as he waits for more.

“Before Jacaerys could finish telling me what actually happened I was struck with fear…my world went dark when I thought you were killed,” you admit and feel yourself grow flustered as he keeps his eye on you. “And then when Jacaerys finished telling me the news I was horrified. You believe me right? I would never have let Daemon kill Jaehaerys.”

Panicked tears well in your eyes and he quickly assures you.

“I know.”

You nod in comprehension and breathe out that slight panic that just rattled you. “Anyway,” you continue with what you started with. “I couldn’t fathom you being killed, so it’s lucky that you were gone,” you feign a laugh. “I mean I’m not glad where you were, but it saved you so.”

Aemond comes to a stop, and you climb to the top before you stop and face him with a quizzical brow.

“I was not at the brothel because I sought lust,” he says again to get it through your mind and heart, but this time he adds something else that makes your heart skip a beat. “I did not think you would return home, I needed to talk to someone.”

A smile slowly spreads on your lips and you climb down to be in front of him before you assure him of one thing. “We would have found our way to each other eventually. I believe that. We’re one heart, one soul, one flesh. We literally drank each other's blood.”

He scoffs softly and you grin, making bliss glimmer in his eye and pull a soft smile to his own lips before he reaches over to cup your cheek and gently stroke your flesh.

You swoon at the touch and can’t help but reach over to grab his hand and hold his warmth.

There’s so much both of you can say on the aspect, you can reminisce about the past when getting married was a prospect that excited you both, and that you wanted more than anything. You could admit that fear is something you don’t feel when he’s close, but it is something he does feel because of the love he harbors for you. Yet neither of you says anything.

Your love is shared through the windows of your soul, right there on top of the steps, under the soft morning sky, with your son as a witness. Actually, he’s the one who interrupts the moment when he notices you just a hair's breadth away by reaching for your cheek with his little hand to try and grab you the same way Aemond was grabbing you.

When Aemond and you notice, you both share a laugh.

“<Beautiful, huh?>” Aemond directs at Aerion with a proud smile, making you giggle before you fall by Aemond’s side and hook your arm around his.

“Now,” you move this moment along by making him continue forward, and by moving on with this conversation. “Will you tell me why we’re here with our son?”

The corner of his lips tug up and he looks at you with a mischievous look that intrigues you.

“Spill,” you encourage him.

“Shrykos, the dragon egg chosen for Jaehaerys hatched the other day,” Aemond reveals, making your lips part with surprise—“I wanted to bring Aerion in hopes they will bond.”

You blink in surprise, but that quickly transforms into nothing but worry that knits your eyebrows and pushes you to share your concern. “But won’t Aegon be mad that you’re trying to bond Aerion to Shrykos?”

Aemond scoffs. “Why should he?” He retorts as walks you inside the dimmed arena. “Shrykos is free to claim now. It doesn’t belong to him.”

Is that what he said about Vhagar too?

“Hm, I suppose you’re right, but Aerion is still a babe,” you express more building-up worry. “He can’t defend himself if it doesn’t work.”

“I will have my blade ready,” Aemond makes sure to quickly assure you, but nothing he says actually gets rid of that feeling weighing down on you. Especially not when you reach the hall where the hatchlings and eggs are kept. It starts to feel like you’re lacking fresh air to breathe.

If anything happens to Aerion you’ll go mad.

“Aemond,” you try to express your worry, but he turns to assure you again.

“It will be fine, the keepers are here, and I have my hand on my pommel. I won’t let anything happen to our son.”

You hold his gaze to take more of that reassurance you need before you approach the stone table where Aemond sits Aerion, and where they have Shrykos’ carrier.

“<Since the one trying to bond is a babe, there won’t be commands, we will have to trust they communicate from within, the way you also communicate with your dragons.>” One of the keepers explains, making you clench your fists before you press your hands on the table to be ready to snatch Aerion if it all goes wrong.

“<Ready?>” The second keeper asks and looks between Aemond and you, making you and Aemond share a short speechless look before he answers with a nod.

The keeper then unties the crate's latch and lets a small swamp-green hatchling slowly crawl out of the darkness of her crate.

At first, it seems too timid to fully leave its crate, it stands there and tilts its little green head while her orange eyes focus on Aerion directly ahead of him.

Aemond and you share a curious look that's also mixed with worry that steals more of your breaths, and triggers your heart to race; causing the blood in your veins to pump rapidly, whilst also making your hands tremble.

Aemond notices your fear taking over, he senses it too because he feels concerned too, so he reaches over and wraps his hand around yours, letting a deep breath escape through your nose, and making your racing heart find some ease.

Yet not enough, it still thumps as you watch the hatchling completely leave her crate with her eyes locked on Aerion. All the while your babe glances over at you with no idea what’s going on; he doesn’t seem to be scared, he just steals a glimpse at Aemond and you before he returns his attention to the dragon and tries to reach for it.

Shrykos seems curious by Aerion’s movements so she crawls forward without that initial timidness that held her back before. She comes to a stop in front of Aerion and tilts her head to the side to look at him.

Aemond lets your hand go and uses both hands to hold his blade's handle and pull half of it out of his sheath. You lift your hands off the table and leave them out to be ready.

Aerion coos and leans forward to try and get a hold of the dragon, seeming to attract Shrykos to Aerion’s legs. That's when the babe finally brushes his little fingers over the dragon's head and smiles.

Shrykos blinks and her pupils seem to dilate before she coos back and suddenly climbs on Aerion to wrap itself around his shoulders and nuzzle her head against his cheek, making Aerion squeal.

You gasp and turn to look at Aemond at the same time he turns to look at you. Nothing is shared at first, but when you grasp that Aerion bonded with Shrykos you both share a proud smile.

“<It's done,” one of the keepers confirms what you concluded. “They are now bonded.>”

All the tension escapes you and you can’t help but grin and hug Aemond’s arm before he reaches over and takes Aerion in his arms with a proud grin on his long face.

“Good job, my boy,” you coo at Aerion as you stroke his cheek, but the boy is too focused on his dragon to pay any attention to you.

“Now no one will look down on you, my boy,” Aemond whispers to Aerion before he presses a kiss on the side of his head.

Your gaze drifts to look at Aemond as you take in what he said, as you detect the hurt in his voice brought by his childhood trauma when he was dragonless and picked on for that reason alone.

“We would never have let that happen if this hadn’t worked,” you tell Aerion whilst you also reassure Aemond. “And if they tried I would have protected you like I protected your father.”

Aemond hums and leans over to press a kiss on the top of your head.

“What time is the council meeting?” You ask him as you grab his arm.

“Not until noon,” he says. “Why?”

You offer him a mischievous smile and even if you know that he takes his responsibilities seriously and that the war outside this city's gates brings a tension within the Red Keep that takes a grip around everyone's throats, what’s wrong with a little escape? What’s wrong with getting carried away in the joy and pride that is brought by Aerion bonding with a dragon?

You aren’t making him abandon his responsibilities, you’re just asking for a little escape. And surprisingly he accepts your proposal and lets you take Astraea out so you both can mount your dragons and take them to the skies with Shrykos mounted on Aemond’s shoulder since her wings are still delicate to fly long distances, and she wants to be close to Aerion, who is strapped to Aemond’s chest.

It’s true, perhaps being on dragonback out of enjoyment is insensitive, tragedy has struck the kingdoms and you are royalty. Perhaps it’s also reckless considering the blockade that doesn’t stand too far away, and maybe it’s also a bit irresponsible. There are other moments and places to take time for yourselves where there aren’t millions of desperate souls watching, but neither Aemond nor you care. What other people might think doesn’t cross your mind.

All that exists is each other upon the skies; feeling the cold sea water splash over your face as Astraea grazes the tip of her wing in the water as she flies within Vhagar’s shadow. After a moment she straightens out and flaps her wings to fly forward. When she's past Vhagar, Astraea tilts up before she spins upward to reach Vhagar’s level and cut her off.

You chuckle and it's soon carried away by the rushing breeze, but your beaming smile is something that can’t be blown away, just like the bliss that completely fills your heart. It’s actually a contagious thing, your bliss. It’s a wonder that heightens Aemond’s own happiness the moment you beam at him over your shoulder.

Now he isn’t as expressive as you, that’s something that’s always been true. You have always been the one that shines the most and it’s something that never bugged him, not then and not now. He does get bothered when other people stare too long in awe at you, but that’s only because they might try taking you away from him, that’s it. He’d never try and diminish your light, and he’s glad it hasn’t snuffed out after what he did.

He fears that this war will diminish you, but even then that wouldn’t matter, he’d still look at you with the same admiration. He’d just have to work to revive that divine light; even if his presence alone is a spark of life itself. As long as you have him close, as long as he’s alive, that luminous light that he sees but you don’t, will never die.

Doesn’t he know that he’s like the moon and stars that you cherish with your heart? He’s cool like the moon in the night sky. And like the moon and the stars, it’s impossible not to admire and love him when he’s not looking or even when his attention is focused on you, like now. He looks at you with that cool blue eye that glimmers under the sun's kiss, and you just get lost on his face not tense with trying to look intimidating; he's smiling softly without stress, his long hair is flowing back, and he’s nothing but playful in this stolen moment as you fly next to each other in understanding that whoever lands on the empty patch of land first is the winner.

However, the winner is an easy guess. It’s you and Astraea. He may have cheated by taking a shortcut, but Astraea is faster since she isn’t as old or gigantic.

Your dragon actually ends up swooping around Vhagar and Aemond, and neither of you loses eye contact, causing a tense need for each other to burn hot and only escalate when you’re on the ground with your back pressed against his chest, his lips brushing over your ear, his breaths unfurling over the goosebumps on your skin, and his hand over yours as he shows you how to practice a certain action.

“Okay, I got it. Let me do it,” you whisper and slide your feet back to your usual fighting stance; something which makes him push your feet back to the way he’s been teaching you.

“Why do you keep standing like that?” He queries.

You glance down at your stance and realize that it’s the way Cregan stands with his sword.

“When you watch different fights you pick up on different things,” you throw out as an excuse which is actually kind of true. There’s been so many others you have taken notes on so you have grasped different techniques.

“I can still kick your ass,” you tease and he huffs softly, so you show off by swiftly managing to push him back with your elbow. You then swiftly spin around and flip the sword in your hand to point the tip to his throat. In the exact same way, you saw him do it once.

“Your own move on you, my love,” you taunt with a wink.

Aemond’s eye falls on the sword before he meets your gaze and can’t help but smirk.

“You caught me off guard,” he points out, making you snort and nod.

“That’s the trick to winning isn’t it?” You tease him and start to lower the sword, leaving him the opportunity to lunge forward and capture your wrist to twist you around and yank you against him with your back pressed against his chest again.

“No fair,” you complain in a whisper as he slides his hand down to cup your hand and press it gently so you can let his sword go and be left unarmed.

“That was not right,” you add and let out a punctured breath as he drags his other hand around your torso, letting his fingers brush over the flesh your gown leaves exposed.

“I really like this gown,” he whispers against the shell of your ear and feels his way all over your body covered by the sea-green gown you wear, making you shiver and draw in the same deep breath he stole.

“You’re distracting me,” you don’t actually mean a word you say, you want him to keep touching you with those firm yet gentle touches that light your skin on fire.

“A warrior doesn’t get distracted,” he rebuttals.

You laugh breathlessly and tilt your head to the side to let his lips touch your cheek because you’re starting to ache for his mouth to be on yours, but don’t want to move away from his touch.

“This is not fair,” you keep saying and he lowers his head to press his nose against your neck and take in a deep breath of your sweet scent.

“I hate when you do that,” you murmur without actual meaning and bring one hand down to wrap it around the hand he has around you and slide it down to your hips, causing him to grip onto you with a mischievous grin.

“Aemond,” you coo out and turn your head, making your lips touch and driving you to insanity. You can’t hold back anymore, you turn around to meet his hungry eyes before you glance at his inviting lips and indulge your desire for a heated moment. You don't linger too long, you pull back rather quickly, leaving a string of saliva that connects you both until he leans in and presses a gentle peck on your lips.

“You remember what I have to do today,” he brings up.

You sigh and nod stiffly. “Yes,” you say back and pull back to meet his gaze. “I was hoping I could leave Astraea out to just protect the city while you and Vhagar are gone. I will feel better knowing she’s out on the ready.”

Aemond holds your gaze and you plead speechlessly and hope desperately.

“In truth, I would feel better if she was out too,” he says, letting you let out a relieved sigh. “I will tell Aegon, but leave her out regardless.”

Now you can send your mother her warning without risking you or anyone else.

No one will keep track of Astraea's whereabouts, and if they ask where she is you will say she’s hunting for her meal. She likes to eat fish after all.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a sweet smile.

He hums and presses a kiss on your cheek before you part away, and both speechlessly decide that you should head back to the Red Keep now.

Nevertheless, when you go to Aerion you find him asleep with his arm around Shrykos neck as she too is lost in deep slumber.

“Oh my,” you muse and touch your heart as it completely melts inside you at such a precious sight. “Look, Aemond.”

Said man sheaths his sword that was left on the ground and then walks to you. When he’s behind you also watching what you’re watching, you look back at him with a wobbly smile and happy tears in your eyes, catching him smile in awe and pride because now he doesn’t have to worry about his son getting bullied the same way he was because he didn’t have a dragon.

——

*LATER*

It’s never hard being quiet when you’re sneaking through the secret tunnels. You always make sure to take your shoes off so the heels don’t reveal your presence, while any jewelry that dangles and makes noise is tucked away. That’s easy to control, but natural occurrences like coughing or sneezing are always an aspect that terrifies you.

You'd be caught right away and there would be no excuse that could save you from any consequences.

It’s not to say you feel any urge to cough or sneeze, but it crosses your mind as you approach the window and listen to the council meeting.

“Fuck you,” is the first thing you hear Aegon spat. Graceful. “I told you we should’ve sent our dragons. And now look what’s happened. Daemon, of all people, has taken Harrenhal.”

Does he mean that in a good or bad way? Because if it’s bad then maybe he needs to really reveulate his uncle's capabilities. Not to toot Daemon's horn, but he did win the battle at the Stepstones, he knows more about war than Aegon does. It should not be surprising that Daemon took Harrenhal. He should be surprised that he has no army to defend his stance there.

“I give you a job, and now you just sit there,” Aegon’s voice rises with his frustration. “It's your fucking castle!”

“Well, that castle is more crippled than I am, Your Grace,” you hear Lord Larys defend himself, making Aegon scoff— “It’s like to drive Daemon to madness as he attempts to make use of it. It is beyond his faculties. It’s also penniless,” he adds to try and reassure Aegon. “As I happily control all of its gold. So, as Harrenhal saps Daemon’s resolve, the false Queen remains trapped on her Island and Ser Criston continues felling castles in the Crownlands.”

“Wh—” Aegon stammers whilst you hear his feet stomp about the room. “I need to be informed of these things if I’m to make informed rulings. I will not be made to look a fool in front of my allies and enemies.”

“Harrenhal must wait,” Aemond interjects, causing a breath to escape past your lips. “Ser Criston is marching on Rook’s Rest.”

So he’s finally telling them.

“Rook’s Rest—a pathetic prize,” Aegon stammers. “I gave no such command—”

“The castle is small,” Aemond cuts Aegon off as you hear a chair creak before you recognize your husband's footsteps strike the floor. “Weakly defended and Lord Staunton sits on Rhaenyra’s council. After Cole smashes it, we’ll have Dragonstone effectively cut off by land. This war will not be won with dragons alone but with dragons flying behind armies of men.”

And that is why Aemond and Ser Criston have been secretly planning because Aemond is obviously the most strategic. Sure, his plans don’t favor your family, but you can still be proud that you married someone smart right?

“No! Have him turn about,” Aegon wastes his breath. “I want Harrenhal back.”

Aemond’s footsteps once again hit the ground and you imagine he’s returning to his seat while he responds. “Cole is already preparing his attack.”

Which is why after Aemond leaves you have to send word to your mother.

“Uh, how-how do you know this?” Aegon demands to know in a more perplexed way than upset.

“He sent word to me,” Aemond reveals half the truth as you hear him sit back down.

“To you?” Aegon asks, and you can’t help but detect a bit of hurt. “The two of you have been…plotting…without my authority?”

A second of silence passes before you hear Aemond fill the hall in Valyrian. “<You had more pressing matters to attend to. Such as holding court, choosing your sobriquet, and naming imbecilic lickspittles to our Kingsguard.>”

You can’t help but smirk at Aemond’s counter, knowing damn well that Aegon is only understanding part of that.

“Mm,” Aemond hums before he goes on as if trying to make Aegon look a fool. “<Do you have a wiser strategy, my King?>”

Oh, that rolls off his tongue so smoothly that it makes you tingle.

<If so, you should voice it to your council. We all wait your answer,>” Aemond finishes saying, making that smirk on your own face deepen, while a pride grows within you and grows exponentially as Aegon takes a moment to answer.

“<I can have to…” he responds in High Valyrian hesitantly. “Make a…war?>”

You cover your mouth to stifle your laugh.

Please! His own daughter probably knows more Valyrian than he does!

What a joke.

“Mm,” Aemond hums back, causing people around the table to clear their throats in response to Aegon’s failed attempt.

“Harrenhal is a useful morass,” Aemond continues in the common tongue. “It will keep Daemon well-occupied while we strengthen our host and weaken Rhaenyra’s support on the mainland. We will deal with it in the Riverlands in time. But right now. Rook’s Rest is an easy target and a worthy effort. Don't you agree, my King?”

You lean your ear towards the window and wait for him to agree. What else can he say? He had no other plan up his sleeve that could actually rebuttal Aemond’s plan, so all he can do is agree to that plan, and Aemond’s plan to go with Vhagar too.

Maybe this will teach him to be more strategic so he doesn’t get made a fool again, which is a bit pitiful, you do admit. If he were anyone else you would feel bad that his brother keeps upstaging him and planning behind his back, but he’s Aegon. You don’t feel pity or remorse, especially not after the way he treated Aemond not long ago in that brothel. Just like your husband, you relish in his torment.

If only you could witness more, yet Aemond is left satisfied and you depart from the shadows to return to your chambers before the meeting is done and Aemond accidentally discovers you.

And leaving at the time you did ends up being a lucky choice because the moment you sit down with your book, and pretend that's what you were doing, Aemond walks in.

“My love,” he greets and marches over to grab his sword right away before he finds his way to you on the ground keeping Aerion company.

“How was it?” You pretend to be clueless.

“As you would expect,” Aemond shares and crouches down to give Aerion some attention as the boy spends time on his tummy. “Aegon is fruitless when it comes to war, he’s bloodthirsty, thinking boldness is the better option. He’ll have all our dragons killed if we act out his plans.”

You close the book and tilt your head up to look at him. “Which is why it’s a good thing you sit at his table. How did he take the news?”

Aemond scoffs and a sly smirk plays on his lips. “What do you think?”

You sigh and guess. “Whiny and offended.”

Aemond nods before he snickers. “He tried speaking Valyrian, but he butchered it. He couldn’t even form a sentence.”

You laugh softly, but not as much as you would want knowing the actual context. Then again not like it matters because your amusement is quickly killed because you know you can’t escape the inevitable.

“Will you stay for dinner at least?” You try to make him linger behind.

Aemond lifts his eye off Aerion and catches the gloss in your eye that accompanies your speechless pleas, so he looks back at his son and gives you his answer. “I have indulged in my pleasures today. Rhaenyra might have already heard about our approach and may attack soon, I cannot risk leaving Cole defenseless.”

Your eyes flicker down and you sigh deeply with worry, pulling Aemond to his feet, and attaining his gaze that attracts you to look up and meet his gaze before you listen to your impulse and follow him up.

“I will return,” he reassures the worry creasing a frown on your features. “Sooner than you think.”

You close the empty space left between you and gently place your hands on his chest before you slowly trail them up his shoulders and bring them to a stop on his jaw, noting his armorless body left vulnerable to any deadly attack.

“I wish you would armor,” you express your concern.

Aemond’s gaze hardens and he grabs your elbow to remark. “Do you doubt me? Why is it that you never seem to trust my capabilities? I am met with doubt every time.”

Your eyebrows pinch together and your eyes harden as you’re confused by this outburst, but just as you want to argue, your anger fades when you realize that he doesn’t really understand where your doubt is coming from. So you sigh softly and look at him with a softening gaze that fills with admiration, and brings a teasing smile to your face.

“No matter how many times I tell you, you still don’t understand,” you quip and bring your hand down to smack his shoulder. “You may be smart with war plans, but there is something you do not seem to understand.” You scoff and your smile widens as your eyes perk up with bliss. “I do not doubt your skill Aemond, not on dragonback and not with a sword, I worry. It’s concern that I share because I love you.”

Aemond holds your gaze for a moment before he looks down as he loses that hardened demeanor brought by self-defense, and instead grows flustered.

“I do not wish to have your corpse returned to me,” you continue softly and try to find his eyes. “Vhagar may be the biggest dragon, she may have more battle experience than any other dragon, but she nor you are invincible. It takes one arrow, Aemond, raging fire, or a lucky bite from the other dragon's jaw and I am left a widow. Do you understand that?” You push your love into his heart, making him express nothing but love and awe in return as he finally lets you find his gaze.

“I just would feel more comforted if I knew something protected your face and your body. That’s all.” You say and slide your hand up to cup his cheek.

This time Aemond moves his hand up to meet yours so you can keep it pressed against his cheek and he can take in all the comfort you offer, while also making sure to stroke your knuckles with his thumb.

“I will be careful,” he assures you. “I won’t fall today. Nor tomorrow for that matter.”

You scoff in amusement and pull his face closer to you. “I need you to come back,” you express what torments your heart. “To me. I…can’t do this without you.”

Aemond’s breath catches and after a second he drags his hand up your arm while also raising the other one to grab your face with both and reassure you sweetly. “I will be well protected with Vhagar, I will return. I will be okay and I do not need armor to assure me of that. I will come back.”

Your breath trembles and you nod softly before you lean in and share your love with a deep kiss you linger in to keep him with you a bit longer, while also hoping that a deep kiss will convince him to stay. Yet he begins to part away.

But before your lips can be greeted with a cold abandonment he takes you in for a second kiss that’s shorter, but surpasses the passion that already fueled your first kiss.

Unfortunately, there’s no third indulgence, you do stay close and press your forehead against his to linger in each other's presence for a moment longer. Not letting anything penetrate this moment in time where all that exists is each other, your intertwined hearts, and your interconnected souls.

“I love you,” you break the silence after a while and caress his cheeks.

Aemond presses a kiss on the heel of your hand and whispers back. “I love you too. Come see me off?”

You scoff at the ridiculousness of his question. “Of course.”

After getting the last things he needs, and after bidding goodbye to Aerion, you walk with him all the way to the last gate, but no further because he doesn’t want you returning to the Red Keep alone.

“Astraea is allowed to roam the skies as freely as she wants while Vhagar and I are gone,” Aemond lets you know and unknowingly connects the missing link you had to help your mother. “If you mount her, don't approach the blockade or do anything reckless.”

“Reckless?” You feign innocence and touch your chest. “Me? Never.”

His lips tug to a smile before he goes serious and presses that. “I am being serious.”

You offer him an assuring nod and whisper. “I know. I will stay out of trouble.”

He hums and before he can leave, you reach for your neck to take off your necklace that holds the sigil of both of your houses, Velaryon and Targaryen. “I do want this back, it’s my favorite,” you say and grab his hand to give him your pendant. “For luck.”

“Your favor?” He teases with a smug smile.

You hum timidly and watch him snatch your hand before all he has is your haunting touches, and slowly brings it up to his thin pink lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles, causing your heart to skip a beat and a giggle to escape past your lips.

“Everything will be fine,” he adds in his soft voice that works like a trance. It keeps you under its spell now, but you know later it will wear off and your concern will drown you again.

“<Be careful,>” you tell him one more time, but this time you pass him a confident look also oozing with pride.

Aemond steals one more touch from your warm cheeks before leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours to steal one last sweet moment before he steps back and stands tall to show off the intimidating persona he’s built over the years, but never scares you. You see his confidence and his determination, but he does not intimidate you.

“<Goodbye, my love.>” He bids.

You offer him a last smile and whisper back so only he can hear. “Goodbye.”

You wave at him and linger where he left you behind to watch him get further and further away until not even his long shiny silver-white hair is visible. Now when you're sure that he won’t walk back for something he forgot you turn to head back inside, but the moment you do face the Redkeep, you catch Aegon looking out one of the windows of a high tower.

His eyes are unmistakably on you, letting you know he saw your last goodbye with his brother.

Was it with envy? Annoyance? Anger?

You don’t know, you can’t see the expression that paints his features from where you stand. Besides, when your eyes meet he turns away and abandons the window, letting you head inside.

At first, you walk at a normal pace, but when you’re inside you hurry back to your room to write that warning to your mother in High Valyrian so there’s less of a risk of someone unwanted reading your note. Which is unlikely because Astraea will carry your letter, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“<Ser Criston Cole is preparing his attack on Rook’s Rest. Vhagar and Aemond will be there too in hopes of catching one of your dragons by surprise, which means he will be leaving the city defenseless for today and tomorrow. I will write more soon.>

You don’t sign your name, nor do you address it to anyone out of caution. You keep the letter short even if you wish to write more. And before anyone can interrupt you, you rush off using the tunnels so no one can stop you, or see you and report your comings and goings to anyone who shouldn’t know.

Once you make it out to the cove behind the castle, your dragon is already waiting for you.

“<Good girl,>” you praise her and caress her snout. “<Now go to Dragonstone and deliver this message. Be careful.>”

Astraea brings her head down to let you attach the note to one of her long horns.

“<Now go,>”, you tell her and press your forehead against her before you step away and watch her fly off to Dragonstone, wishing that there wasn’t a raging war happening so you could go too without worry or fear.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“The powerful are powerless to someone aren’t they?” Helaena comments and leaves you pondering about the actual significance behind such a simple comment.

“Yes,” you muse and prop your elbows on the stone railing to rest your chin on your hands and admire the crimson blood that stands out like shining rubies on Astraea’s purple feet as her large claws puncture her prey while she drags their lifeless silver body with her.

You like to think that your family got your message, you went to see Astraea a few hours after she returned yesterday and neither the letter nor the ribbon was attached to her horn anymore. Do they have to send anything in return? No, but maybe they could send back a different colored ribbon or something small like a shell in your satchels hanging on her saddle. You looked and looked but it was all empty, so you were left hoping the letter did not fall in the water when she flew there.

You’ll have to let them know to send you some discreet message in return next time to let you know that they got your letter.

“Even the King's answer to someone…” you add to your forming thought. “They may be powerful, but that power can easily be taken by anyone really. They just need the right motivation.”

Helaena hums and her eyes then slide to watch you watching your dragon.

“How are you feeling Helaena?” You ask and turn your attention to her. “I haven’t asked today.”

“About?” She probes.

You push yourself up and carefully bring up what worries you about her. “Your boy. This war. You being Queen.”

Her chest raises high and when it goes back down she looks out at the horizon. “Well…being Queen comes with more attention, I can feel them all looking at me, waiting for me to do something. But I don’t want to. I don’t want them looking at me.”

“Hold your head up high,” you try to advise her sweetly. “Paint on a facade and they won’t really see you. Just worry about caring for your daughter, that’s all that matters.”

Helaena blinks and her eyes fall. You study her face closely to watch for any change in emotions, but she’s harder to read than her brothers, so you wait for her to give you her response.

“Alright.”

You offer her a kind smile and look back at the horizon past the window, coming out surprised when she continues to share what troubles her soul.

“And Jaehaerys,” she pauses and your eyes return to her. “My sadness isn’t as grand anymore. I miss him, but he’s not suffering anymore.”

You swallow back and can’t help but frown with pity and sorrow that you don’t hide so she knows it’s okay to be sad, that if she wants you can be sad with her.

Yet she puts on a brave face so all you can offer her is a faint smile.

“Daeron sent me a letter,” she shares with glee. “And he sent me a butterfly with it. It was dead of course, but I added it to my collection because I did not have it yet.”

“That’s nice of him. I would like to see it after we see the maester that is.”

She nods. “Of course.”

Silence follows but she doesn’t let it last. “Are you scared?” She asks back which is a general question, but you answer with what plagues you the most.

“Yes…I have a lot to lose,” you murmur and step back, making her wait for you to start walking forward to be able to follow at your side.

“But I know I must put my trust in them,” you add and fiddle with a starfish that decorates the golden chain around your waist. “They are strong in their way. I just…don’t want to lose anyone anymore. I don’t want to…end up alone.” Your voice breaks without warning.

“But,” Helaena’s parting lips echo down the lonely hall. “You won’t end alone.”

The corner of your lips form a quick smile and you can’t help but show it off to her. “I will have you that’s true—”

“No,” she cuts you off, and her eyebrows furrow as she seems to grow impatient. “But you won’t end up alone.”

Your smile disappears, and your anguish leaves with it, letting conflict push your eyebrows together, and part your lips as a small gasp leaves your mouth.

Helaena watches you and she can’t seem to get a hint of what you’re feeling, but her impatience to be heard gets lost.

“No?” You ask for reassurance even if a part of you warns you not to believe her simply out of self-protection, while the other part of you completely trusts what she just said.

“You,” she pauses and comes to a slow stop, making you stop, and bringing Ser Jason and her guards to a stop behind you. “You believe me?” She asks softly as she doesn’t see that same pitiful smile everyone offers her when she shares something ominous she needs them to understand.

“I believe you,” you throw all your trust in her and offer her a sweet smile.

Helaena’s gaze lingers on you as her thoughts swirl behind her eyes. “Okay,” she breathes out. “Thank you.”

You hum softly and continue down your path back to your chambers. “Why shouldn’t I? We are part of a special family, my favorite ancestor is Daenys the Dreamer, she’s the one who saved our house thanks to what she dreamt. And even still we follow the rule of men when it’s women who have saved us from doom.” You grumble and roll your eyes.

“Well, men—”

“No,” you cut her off and scold her. “Don't well men me. Women are just as capable as men. In ruling and combat if given the chance. And we are not afraid of blood…well some of us at least, because we bleed all the time. Do you see what I’m trying to get at?”

She shrugs lazily. “I suppose.”

You loll your head to the other side and click your tongue in disappointment.

“Anyway,” you drag out and clasp your hands together. “Sunfyre and Astraea were nuzzled against each other yesterday when I went to take her out. Isn’t that so cute?” You change the subject to a more lighthearted matter that doesn’t really catch her attention, but she still shares a comment nonetheless.

“I’m sure Astraea is happy to be out.”

You smile and nod. “Delighted. She has been spoiled beyond belief with her freedom, which makes it hard for both her and me when it comes to putting her in chains here.”

“I’m sure she knows it’s not because of ill intent,” she tries to comfort you.

You huff. “Yes, she knows that. She just…prefers her freedom.”

Before you know it you reach your chambers and Maester Orwyle is already inside preparing what he needs for your examination.

“Your Grace,” he greets Helaena first before he greets you. “Princess.”

You offer him a faint smile and a warm greeting. “Hello Maester, I hope you haven’t been waiting long. We were taking a stroll after breaking fast.”

He shakes his head and responds. “No, I got here a moment ago myself. Now will you tell me what you have been feeling so I can conclude to the right results.”

You sigh and watch Helaena take a seat on one of your couches before you let your eyes wander ahead as you tap into your memories. “Well, it has been a month since I last bled. I…started feeling more exhausted than usual a couple of weeks after the war started. I have been craving foods more than usual, and…well I have had more frequent headaches as well as stomach aches.”

The maester hums and he studies you before his gaze goes to Vanessa. “How has she eaten?”

Oh because he couldn’t ask you?!

“Not well, but it also varies, some days she tends to eat like normal, while on other days she hardly touches her food,” she happily obliges with sharing…well a lot of what you would have not shared.

“Ok, Princess, if I may ask you to change into a lighter gown so I can do your examination.” He orders while you pass Vanessa an annoyed glare she doesn’t fret to brush off as she pushes you behind a divider to help you undress.

“You did not have to share all of it. I eat,” you whisper sharply, and she turns you around harshly to untie the corset, while you pull the halter strap over your head.

“Define what eating is to you,” she rebuttals and you try to sass her.

“Eating is when you—”

“Prince Aemond would have my head if I did not reveal the truth to the maester. He already pressed me to feed you more,” she cuts you off and shares what you didn’t know.

“He shouldn’t have,” you mutter as you purse your lips together.

Vanessa sighs. “He's just worried…in his own way, that's all. And why shouldn’t he be? You haven’t told him.”

A perplexed look flickers on your face before all that paints your face is anguish. “I just…need to be sure first. I mean I need to hear it from a maester.”

“I understand,” her voice eases off the frustration. “Ok, it’s done.”

You let the gown fall to your feet before you step away from it and slip on a lighter gown to rejoin the maester out in your room.

“It does seem that you have lost weight,” The maester points out now that he takes a second look at you in a less busy gown. “But that may be grief as well. I’m certain it has not been easy.”

You scoff and gently shake your head as you make yourself to your bed, and he follows suit with gadgets that he uses inside you…

“Okay just try and hold still. We have done this before so you remember the procedure, right?”

You gulp and offer him a breathless response that gives him the okay to proceed and examine you carefully so as to not miss something, or diagnose you with the opposite of what you may have.

Like he said you have gone through this before, but it still is quite uncomfortable. You get lost on the ceiling above you and wait for him to stop before you move so he can press your belly with his fingers, and also feel your breasts to check if they are tender.

Once his quiet examination is done he steps back from your bed and stands formally before he finally addresses your anticipation. “Congratulations Princess, you are indeed with child.”

It’s meant to be a happy moment, but you’re tormented by anguish as the truth is finally proven and you can no longer hope that it's all some silly mind game played by all your troubled emotions.

Now…the possibility of your passionate night with Cregan resulting in a joyous bundle is more real. Then again you hide behind the hope that one night did not lead to a child. You convince yourself that Aemond is the father because it is true, your fear is just wicked and playing with you.

“Twins?” You ask and he blinks with surprise before he nods hesitantly as if surprised that you know what isn’t meant to be obvious yet.

“Yes…there are two babes. Two different placentas.”

“I told you,” Helaena blurts over the couch before she returns her attention to the books you have spread all over the couches since Aemond has his map on the small table.

“But,” he adds and your heart drops. “I would like to keep a closer eye on you. It seems one babe is smaller than the other.”

You drag yourself to the edge of the bed and press him for more. “Wh-what does that mean? Will they be okay?”

Maester Orwyle lets out a deep breath before he makes your heart hurt with his honesty. “I cannot say for certain, that’s why it’s important for you to eat princess. If you are not healthy and strong the babes will not be. This time you will have to eat for three which will take that much more energy.”

“I understand,” you whisper your comprehension.

“Like I said I will come and check on you more often. I want to make sure that the babes are growing as they should.”

You nod and he bows his head before he offers you one more congratulations and then turns to talk to Vanessa about teas and different foods that you should and shouldn’t eat. And before he left he did not forget to tell you to share your news with Aemond, as if he didn’t already plan to do it himself because apparently you are incapable of controlling your own life.

Regardless, now you know. Now there’s no use hoping you’re simply overthinking and that Helaena’s head is too lost in the clouds, she was right, and you are with child. You are going to have twins with Aemond.

Okay…maybe that prospect does excite you more than you thought. You might have your own Daenys soon, and maybe another girl or more boys!

Whatever they may turn out to be your worry turns to overwhelming bliss you can hardly contain. If only Aemond was here to tell him, but he’s too far and you would be too reckless to fly to him just to share the news.

You have half the mind to go, but that would be oh-so stupid. You’ll have to wait and maybe think of baby names?

Or embroider a nice cover? You are terrible at sewing, but you have the urge to.

Maybe you’ll sing to them and Aerion! You would sing to Aerion when he was in your belly all the time and he would kick like crazy when he got older because of it.

So yes! That’s what you’ll do! They may be too small now to hear, but you need to do something that will release your excitement. Besides you can take advantage and learn more of the songs and ballads that are in the book Aemond gave you.

They’re all so beautiful and full of rich stories. And as sad as some are, knowing that these songs were sung by people in Valyria does delight you as well as make you feel honored that you now get to know them, sing them, and cherish them. It makes it easy to get lost in the songs and have the day pass. Before you know it, noon has already crept in.

The sun is still high so the entire day didn’t pass under you. The only reason you do break your attention from your book is because a persistent knock raps on the door.

Is it Aemond?!

You beam at the possibility.

“Come!” You welcome the visitor as you throw the book on the couch and stand up to spin and face the door.

Nevertheless, who comes in isn’t your tall long-haired husband, it’s his brother, Aegon.

“Your Grace,” you mumble in confusion and look him up and down as you note that he looks smaller than usual in such historic armor that Aegon the Conqueror once wore.

“Niece,” he greets and flashes you a smile before he closes the door behind his guards.

“Aemond is not here,” you state the obvious even if the hairs on the back of your neck rise as they warn you that he’s not looking for your husband.

His heavy footsteps thud as he begins to make his way toward you with a mischievous glint in his eyes that deepens that smirk on his face.

“Yes, I know of my brother's comings and goings.” He says, causing fear to strike your heart. “But I am not here for him.”

You glance at his Kingsguard for help, but you should have known better, they look away, and at that very moment they let you know that you’re alone and defenseless against whatever antics creep into Aegon’s mind.

“Then why are you here? In armor.”

He shrugs. “I am going to battle. Obviously,” he chuckles and his smirk turns to a grin.

You see that he’s past the couches so you continue to back away until you’re behind a couch. “That seems rather reckless. You are King—”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he spats and his grin falls back to a smirk that keeps that mischievous outward.

“Why are you here Aegon?” You ask again and he keeps making his way toward you, not caring that you’re obviously trying to keep your distance.

He huffs. “I’m here for your favor,” he finally reveals and you swallow thickly and run into a chair.

“I already gave it to Aemond,” you try to keep Aegon away. “And you have a wife. Ask for her favor.”

He lets out a sigh. “It's not the Queen's favor I desire,” he quickly brushes you off and hops over the living area to hurry over and trap you against the chair so you cannot keep running away.

“It’s yours,” he whispers and leans his face closer to you, letting his strong wine breath whaff all over you which causes you to try and slide away, but he throws his hand out to grab the chair and block your exit.

“Aemond—”

“Is not here,” he cuts you off again and uses his other hand to start reaching out for your arm, but you grab your golden waist belt to avoid his incoming touch.

“Aegon,” you hiss. “Leave.”

“After a kiss goodbye hm?”

You shake your head and rebuttals by throwing his hand around your arm, but he doesn't pull you anywhere, he just grabs your arm and makes you feel utterly powerless. You hold so much battle knowledge, you know how to make someone unhand you, you can sweep someone off their feet, and so much more, but at this very moment with his hand on your arm and his wine breath unfurling over your cheek, you can’t move a muscle.

“Aegon,” you try to call him off you again, but his hold loosens and the tip of his fingers travel to your hips.

“Stop,” you mutter with a quivering lip. “Please,” your voice trembles.

He spares you a glance before he tilts his face to the side to force you to kiss his cheek first.

You don’t want to, you want to push him away, to scream, but he won’t move and you can’t find the strength; it hides like a coward under Aegon’s presence. Thus you’re left with no choice, you pucker your lips and lean your face forward to press a light kiss on his cheek so it can make him leave faster, feeling disgust swirling what little you have in your stomach.

When you pull back you expect him to back away and leave you alone, but his hand presses against your hip and you feel the warmth of his hand start to travel up.

“Aegon stop it,” you sneer shakily.

Said man’s hungry eyes start to lower to steal a glance at your chest exposed by the v-neck your bodice was designed with.

“Aegon,” you call out desperately, making him find your gaze and smile.

“Wish me good luck,” he says in return.

You swallow back nervously and part your lips, but before you can utter a word the doors get thrown open, pulling your eyes to the welcoming visitor, and seeing Ser Jason with his sword halfway out of his sheath, and his face hardened.

“Ser,” you call out with relief.

Aegon looks over his shoulder and his smile dies.

“Your Grace,” Ser Jason greets coldly without letting his sword go but making Aegon’s kingsguard grab their own swords to prepare for an attack.

“Just in need of my niece's favor,” Aegon is quick to throw out an excuse. “Ser.”

Aegon proceeds to snap his head back around to steal one more glimpse at you before he slides his hand off your body, letting you finally breathe when he backs away and gives you his back.

Even then, though, as he's leaving he makes sure to take his sweet time more so to taunt you that he has power over you now.

“Ser,” Aegon directs at Ser Jason with a taunting smirk that he makes sure is the last thing you see before he disappears down the corridor, knocking out any sort of confidence you could show off to Ser Jason as he remains there past your doors.

“Th-thank you,” you clear your throat and fight the urge to cry as you’re left defeated and feeling powerless. “Ser. For coming to my aid.”

Ser Jason finally lets his sword fall back in his sheath and his blue eyes soften to pity as he watches you fight back your tears.

He wants to ask if you’re okay, but he also knows that would be a stupid question considering he can see you shaking, and hears you heaving.

“Princess,” he whispers and you pull your eyes up to give him your attention through a teary gaze.

“I’m—I’m okay, Ser” you stammer and nod even if you feel violated.

Ser Jason whispers his comprehension, but rather than walking out and standing guard outside your doors, he steps further inside and comes to a stop shortly after to watch you with a certain conflict battling in his deep blue eyes, a conflict that you pick up on before you turn away and clutch onto the chair to try and calm yourself down after something you feared the most happened.

You tried so hard, but you were utterly useless. You couldn’t move a muscle, or find the right thing to say back. You were nothing at that moment but something else he can now order around.

You feel so stupid, so weak, and—

“Princess,” Ser Jason calls out and now you hear that he’s closer than before.

“Ser,” you breathe out and turn around, seeing at that moment that your eyes fall on him, that his eyes express his pity while also trying to offer you the comfort you need the most.

“You…you are not alone,” he says and you can’t help it, you break down and all you want is your mother or Cregan…

He was always there when you felt the most anguished without a fault.

But he can’t be here, nor can you go to your mother. And even Aemond is gone to feed his hunger for battle, leaving only your sworn protector.

“Okay,” you whisper with relief and he slowly starts moving toward you with his hand slowly rising off his side in an attempt to offer you a comforting touch.

Albeit before he can even get near, your eyes find Lord Larys limping toward your open doors, causing you to drop your head to hide your tears.

Not like it was a fruitful act, the Lord takes note of your anguish.

“Lord Larys,” you address his presence, making Ser Jason almost throw himself back as he backs away from you so the Lord doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“Princess,” the lord greets in return. “Forgive my intrusion. I was coming to pay you a visit and I came across an open door.”

You shake your head to dismiss his apology. “Do not worry about it, Lord. You are welcome.”

You glance up at him and catch an exchange of looks between Lord Larys and Ser Jason before your sworn protector walks out of the room in a hurry, leaving Lord Larys and you alone in the confinements of your chambers.

“Please take a seat,” you point to your table. “I would offer a seat in front of the fire, but I’m ashamed to say Aemond and I have a mess.”

Lord Larys shakes his head. “It’s quite alright,” he reassures you and limps toward the table to take a seat on a wooden chair.

You turn to walk towards the flagon of water and wine so he won’t see the tears that leave your eyes red.

“Water? Wine?” You offer as you wipe your cheeks and draw in a deep breath.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

You nod in comprehension and serve yourself some water before you turn and face the Lord in hopes he will reveal what brought him here.

“I hope you have found yourself well, a gaze stuck between two sides must be heavy on the heart,” he says.

You bring your gaze down to watch the water within the golden goblet. “I find myself quite well,” you lie with a smile you direct at the Lord. “It was difficult at first, but now…my conflict has been resolved, and the only weight I carry is the worry for my husband and son's safety.”

He hums and you notice him dig his hand in his pocket as he interjects. “As you should be, with Prince Daemon on a path of revenge, who knows what else he might do.”

Your gaze narrows to a glare for a brief second before you take a small sip and take a seat across from him.

“I have been meaning to thank you for telling me about Prince Aemond’s whereabouts when I was gone,” you address the matter and set your cup down, but keep your fingers around the neck of the goblet. “Telling the truth really helped us reconcile.”

The Lord brings a fisted hand up to hang over his cane while he offers you a faint smile. “I’m gladdened. It’s important that the realm sees the picture of unity among the royal family. Now more than ever.”

You scoff. “They need food. Not a glimpse at our marriage, they could care less about us whilst they’re starving,” you rebuttal bitterly and take a glance out the balcony.

“That’s easier said than done with the blockade cutting off any transport of food,” he adds, making you return your gaze to him.

“If only there could be something done about it,” you mumble bitterly and leave out the fact that the crown could spare food, or send a dragon to break that blockade.

“Maybe you can,” he suggests, piquing your interest. “You have Prince Aemond’s ear, and he has a seat upon the council. You could ask him to give an idea to the council.”

You tap the neck of the goblet as you think about what he just said. Which is honestly not a bad idea, but would they even agree to offer any help?

Doubtful.

You could bring it up nonetheless. Maybe.

“That is a great idea, I might do exactly that,” you don’t hesitate to give Lord Larys his props.

Lord Larys bows his head to offer you his thanks before he moves his fisted hand and pushes it over the table. “I did come to give you this…back.”

You slowly sit up straighter and press your hands on the table as you watch him put down a small brown wooden box on the table.

“It seems you lost it recently,” he pauses and pushes the box toward you with the tip of his finger, causing curiosity to tug the corner of your lips to a faint smile.

“…in the North.” He finishes and your hand freezes just as you’re reaching for the box.

At first, you were completely in the dark about what he was reeling up to, but now that he pulls the truth out of the murky waters, you start to realize what the box might hold, and the insinuation he might have as bait.

And alas, when you grab the box and bring it toward you to open it, you see exactly what you suspected; the sapphire ring you had lost in Castle Black. The ring Aemond had gifted you when you first returned from the North. The ring you dropped as you were kissing Cregan.

“It was brought to me from Winterfell,” Lord Larys adds with a certain change in his tone of voice. “It seems someone found it in the bed chambers of the Warden of the North.”

So the ring was given back to Cregan. That’s…nice.

“Any idea why the Lord would have such a meaningful ring in his chambers?” Lord Larys presses, and you start to hear it, the insinuation he does not directly say.

“I had lost it,” you try not to express your horror and close the box to hold Lord Larys' gaze without fear. “He obviously found it. Are you suggesting Lord Stark stole from me?”

Lord Larys scoffs in amusement and shakes his head. “No, I could not see Lord Stark doing something so below him. Albeit it seems his honor does dwindle when it comes to a much more valuable Gem of the Sea.”

The nonchalance you wore falls, but you don’t break. You are not stupid either, you know who Lord Larys is referencing when he brings “Gem of the Sea.”, but you do not let him bait you, nor do you find yourself powerless like when Aegon was here moments ago. What is Lord Larys?

He’s no King. No Warden, no knight, he only holds the title of Lord because his family has not tried to fight him for the title and lands, and the other part of his family is dead. He’s not fearsome, he’s a man with a club foot.

You will not cower behind a shadow that cannot even overshadow yours.

“Lord Larys,” you feign a laugh and open the box to pull the ring out. “Answer me this…do you take me for a fool?”

Lord Larys sputters and ends up saying nothing after he did not expect you to rebuttal as fearless as you did.

“I know what you are insinuating,” you continue and slide the sapphire ring back on your ring finger. “And it really is a nasty thing,” you roll out and snap your eyes up to look at the disbelief he’s trying to wipe off.

“But just so we are on the same page, tell me what exactly you are referring to,” you lull out and bat your eyelashes while a large winged shadow suddenly flies past the windows before a chitter breaks in the sky, and a growl soon follows.

He nor you need to look out to know it’s your dragon, it’s why he swallows back nervously and parts his lips, but you interrupt him because you know a bunch of shit was going to come out of his mouth.

“That’s what I thought,” you mutter with your voice losing that sweet honey and growing intimidating. “Did you know that rats are easy to kill here? Be that with traps, poison, or corner them where they nest and burn them.”

A loud roar rattles the room and a smirk begins to grow on your face, making Lord Larys clutch onto his cane and lean back against the chair.

“Come at me with that shit again, or threats and some bait to try and control me,” you spat. “And I will not need someone to get their hands dirty for me, my Lord. I enjoy chasing and catching my own prey.” You giggle. “It’s exhilarating. And I bet seeing how fast you run will be quite amusing.”

You stand up from your chair and point to the door. “There’s the door my Lord. It was,” you pause and drag out a deep breath before you finish. “Refreshing speaking with you. Come again.”

Lord Larys gets up from his chair and bows his head before he mutters his goodbye. “Princess.”

You raise your nose in the air as you watch him leave between your lashes.

“Oh,” you add as he’s making his way out. “And if I hear that wicked rumor spread about, I know who to look for, so don’t worry trying to hide, my Astraea is a great tracker.”

Lord Larys doesn’t add anything in return, he walks out in defeat. It’s only once the doors close behind him, and you’re enveloped in silence that you let out a deep and exhausted breath.

Having Jacaerys and a stranger find out is completely different, your brother wouldn’t out you to anyone, or spread your secret like a plague, but a stranger would so you had to show your teeth. You had to be threatening, which is new! It’s such a new feeling, but…it’s such a rush seeing people squirm in fear under you!

You can’t say you dislike having that power or any power at all for that matter. You can’t say you dislike showing it either, you want to relish in it. You want to bear it proudly.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“And…” you trail off and lower the wooden bow your hands embrace to watch the sharp metal arrow puncture the bullseye. “That’s how you do it.”

You spin on your heels and stretch your arms out like a dragon spreads its wings.

“Eagle eye,” Ser Jason mocks, and you chuckle and jump up to go and collect another arrow from your satchel.

“I mean that—” Ser Jason begins to stumble over his words as he realizes he was perhaps too bold, so you cut him off.

“Hush, it’s okay. And! Actually, my friend Lady Arra Norrey, Lord Stark’s wife, used to call me that because well…at first I was not a good shot.” You muse with a growing smile. “Do you mean it mockingly, Ser?” You shoot him a pointed look that makes him squirm and ends up making you grin. “I’m messing with you Ser.”

He scoffs and lets the tension fall from his shoulders.

“Now watch this,” you keep his attention on you as you turn on your heels and position your arrow before you break into a jog and bring your aim up.

Yet just before you can shoot your arrow, in the flash of a second, you swiftly spin on your heels and hastily aim at the third dragon head on an ugly green banner, before you let the arrow fly.

The arrow whizzes through the air rapidly, and the sharp arrowhead rips through the third dragon right in the beady eye.

“Fantastic!” Ser Jason praises you as he claps for your wickedly good shot.

You bow again as you laugh with glee.

“Lucky shot, but my ego will grow nonetheless,” you tease as you walk over to grab another arrow.

Albeit just as you take the arrow and turn to walk to your spot a guard walks over and clears his throat to let you know he means to talk to you. “Princess, Vhagar is approaching the city.”

A smile breaks on your face and you let the arrow and bow go to pick up your skirts and run through barriers of space thinking of no one else but Aemond, the cure to your solitude, and the warmth that left you in the cold.

Ser Jason is quick to follow after you in a hurry to make sure nothing happens to you whilst you run from courtyard to courtyard and swerve busybodies. When you reach the last gate that leads to the city you come to a stop and he doesn’t fail to come to a stop a few paces behind, making sure he never lets you out of his sight as you wait for your husband to appear down the cobble street, and slightly worrying of what he will do if your beloved husband doesn’t return alive.

It’s an outrageous thought, but he plans ahead just in case. Plus he can’t help but plan ahead. It’s how his mind works.

Nevertheless, his relentless planning is for naught because from one moment to another your fidgeting hands relax, the corner of your lips slowly rise, and your searching eyes lock on him, your husband, your Aemond.

From afar he seems unharmed, but that’s something you still need to make sure of before you truly thank the gods for his return.

Yet checking for his well-being is not what pushes you away from your spot, when his eye finds you just outside the gate your breath catches as you’re riddled with relief over the fact that he’s walking to you on his own two feet and not lifeless on a carriage.

All while Aemond himself comes to a stop, not because he’s overcome with relief that you’re alive, he never feared for your death whilst you stayed in the Red Keep. He freezes and is riddled with disbelief because no matter what, he did not expect you to be waiting for him past the gates of the Red Keep. He expected to find you in your chambers even if he knows how much your excitement can drive you.

And he's not thinking that catching you outside the Red Keep gates bothers him, his heart skips a beat as he realizes that you’re not some fever dream, you’re there, beaming at him before you break into a sprint to rip through barriers of space just to join together in a clashing embrace.

“Aemond,” you chuckle and cry with joy.

Said man is still caught by surprise for a second so he remains stiff before he melts in your warmth and returns your embrace with a much tighter hold that assures you that it's really him.

“I was worried,” you share softly against his neck.

Aemond caresses the back of your head and nuzzles his nose against your neck, letting himself display his affection for you around bypassers because he wants people to know that he is loved and that he loves someone dearly.

“I’m alright. I told you, didn't I?” He whispers and you can't help but hold him tighter as his voice travels in your ears.

“I will always worry,” you mumble before you pull back and grab his arms to look him up and down to check for any injuries. When you find nothing but soot and his messy hair your heart jolts nervously, but you also feel relief wash over another part of you as you reassure yourself that he came back to you in one piece.

“Nothing hurts?” You still ask him and slide your hands down to grab ahold of his. “Vhagar?”

His eye falls on the ground and he hides a timid smile. “No, I’m fine. I did not get hurt. And Vhagar is fine too.” He says quietly.

You study him one more time before you raise your hands to grab his face. You don’t say anything, nor does he. Aemond just slowly brings his eye up and looks at you with admiration while you watch him completely enamored. At that moment, without the need of opening your mouths, expressing how much you love each other, and how much this time apart was like a strain on the heart. It ached you both.

You also keep expressing how glad you are that he’s back, but it’s that twinkle that joy brings to your eyes that makes his jaw clench, and a deep breath to furl through his nose as he remembers the news he bears, news that will break your heart.

“Uh, I did not have time to warn you, but you must have seen,” you interject and fall on his side to hook your arm around his and head back to the safety of the Red Keep. “Aegon and Sunfyre went to Rook’s Rest.”

Aemond nods and rolls his eye in annoyance. “Yes, we unfortunately crossed paths.”

Your hand stiffens around his arm as you remember Aegon’s visit before he left. “Where is his Grace?” You mutter.

Aemond answers with silence for a moment before he gives you his response. “Aegon got hurt during battle.”

The corner of your lips threaten to pull into a happy smile, but you manage to feign worry. “What? How?”

Aemond stops and slips his arm away, but makes sure not to let go. He grabs a hold of one hand, while he uses his other hand to grab your shoulder.

“<Aegon,” he says in a High Valyrian accent before he continues in the same language. “Was fighting another dragon.>”

You hold his gaze and try to find his concern or pity, but rather than finding any flicker of worry, you catch a darkness dancing in his blue eye.

“<And the dragon burned him,” Aemond continues to add stiffly. “It was…a foolish act on his part to go to battle and challenge the dragon, but that act was repaid with dragon fire and broken bones.>”

You can’t pretend to be worried, you don’t care if he’s hurt or close to death. If you could you would clap and celebrate, but you hold it all back behind a shocked expression that raises your eyebrows and parts your lips.

“<What…” you hesitate as the other part of you that had begun to worry slowly starts to take over you. “…Dragon was it?>”

Aemond doesn’t answer right away, he keeps holding your gaze, and the corner of his lips twitch up, while that darkness brings a malicious gleam to his eye that you don’t miss.

It’s not difficult to read into these small expressions, for you at least. For anyone else who doesn’t really know Aemond beyond the facade he puts up wouldn’t realize the truth he masks behind that lie, but you do. You see it clear as day. Is it because he let you read him? Or because you know his soul?

Both, but regardless, you know it was no other dragon that brought Aegon down. Not after Aegon humiliated Aemond at that brothel, not after knowing the tension between the brothers, the pranks Aemond never forgave. It was Aemond and Vhagar. You don’t need him to put it in simple words for you to know.

Nor do you care that it was him. You’re actually proud it was him, and he sees that pride, just like he also reads your speechless praise between your lips twitching up and that gleam in your eye.

What a cruel pair you make huh?

“It was Meleys,” Aemond finishes sharing in the common tongue, bringing that relief and that pride to an end as the worry that only captured a part of you now takes over you completely.

“Meleys?” You mumble and clutch onto his hand while your eyelashes bat frantically as you try to find the reason why she would be there. You warned them. You sent it early so they’d know!

“Yes,” Aemond mutters and brings down the hand he had on your shoulder to grab your hand. “Listen to me...”

He says it. He shares the cruel truth and it all comes crashing down.

You don’t want to accept it at first, you can’t accept what came out of him, but he wouldn’t lie about it. What reason was there to lie about your grandmother dying along with her dragon Meleys?

Yet you want it to be a lie. You want it to be a cruel jest.

“Please,” you beg in a quivering voice. “Do not lie.”

Aemond doesn’t respond, he swallows back nervously and that only helps to reaffirm the truth; your grandmother Rhaenys is dead. She’s gone and so is Meleys.

Your grandmother…is gone. Someone else is dead, and you don’t need to ask who it was, you see that victory in his eye. It was Aemond again.

But right now that’s not what occupies your mind, right now all you know is grief once again. Agonizing, and heart-tearing grief.

It doesn’t let you breathe, it doesn’t let you think of nothing else but the pain. There’s so much pain.

You can’t breathe, it all weighs down on you. You want to be numb to it to not feel a thing, but you feel it all in all its glory.

“No,” you croak and feel streaks of tears rush down your face. “No,” you cry under your breath. “Please no.”

Aemond tries to pull you into an embrace, but you push yourself away and try to catch your breath, you try to take it all in to try and calm yourself down. However, your blood is rushing in your ears, making everything inside you hectic, making the noises around you louder than they are, and making the world move faster than it is which disorientates you.

You don’t know where you are, that knowledge is lost. All you know is the pain and the deep need to see your grandmother again. You want to see her one more time. You want to hold her longer. You don’t want her to be gone forever.

“Please,” you beg under your breath. “Help me.”

She told you that if you needed help to let her know, to tell her. You’re telling her now, you want her help now. You need it like you need to breathe.

But it won’t come, she won’t come to your aide. She won’t embrace you, or tell you that it will all be fine, she’s gone, and you can’t breathe because of it...

Everything around you begins to spin, and you start to feel lightheaded. You want to keep yourself stable, but you can’t find a wall. You actually stumble and the world that was once spinning around you stops, but only because a darkness begins to consume you.

You try to call for help, but your lips part and nothing comes out. You do however hear another voice, but it doesn’t belong to you, as you get swallowed by the darkness you recognize Ser Jason’s panicked voice. “Princess!”

Yet it’s not him who catches you, you know that much. The last thing you see is clear, it’s Aemond’s worried face above yours...

A/N- You reacting to Aegon is how Daemon thought Rhaenyra would react to Blood and Cheese

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @callsignwidow @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips

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bumblesimagines · 3 months ago

Text

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 12

Request: Yes or No

Summary: For three days, the Queen and King Consort of Westeros remained unreachable after hearing the news of Prince Lucerys Velaryon's death. But with war threatening to spill over, they must put aside their grief for the sake of the Realm.

CW/TW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, mentions of Luke's death/loss of a child, hella grief, implied sexism toward Rhaenyra/a female ruler, angst, will (Y/N) Hightower ever catch a break? tune in next time to find out

Alexa play The Family Jewels by Marina and every other song i have on the playlist(s) for this series

~~~

Grief was an old friend, for it and (Y/N) had grown aquatinted long ago back in his youth when his mother passed, frail and weak and miserable. Grief was a snake that coiled around the heart and mind and squeezed until one could no longer weep or breathe. It constricted and slithered about in the shadows in the back of one's mind, lunging out with its fangs eager to sink into tender flesh. But grief was no monster, not truly. It formed from one of the purest things humans were capable of.

Love.

(Y/N) tried to remember that as he rubbed his fingers into his tear-stained cheeks and handed his empty cup to the nearby maid. She curtsied with her head bowed and stepped away while another lowered herself down onto the stone floor to tend to his youngest children, Aegon and Viserys. He listened to the clacking of wooden toys hitting the floor and each other, the incoherent babbling only they could understand, and the gentle cooing of the maid as she played along with them, encouraging them to play together.

He couldn't remember the last time he bathed nor the last time he'd changed out of his sleepwear. He could hardly recall the last time he'd seen his wife, or even heard news of her wellbeing. She'd taken off on Syrax without word days prior but reports flew in occasionally of sightings. She searched shorelines relentlessly. She searched for their son's remains.

Aegon tilted his head up toward his father and leaned forward, reaching one small, chubby hand out toward his pant leg and giving a swift tug. (Y/N)'s fluttering thoughts halted and his attention dropped down to the small boy, his heart and gaze softening as Aegon stared up at him expectantly with those large violet eyes. He leaned down and scooped his son into his arm, a soft exhale leaving him at the familiarity of it all. He couldn't lose another child. Little silent Marin and joyful Luke. (Y/N) pressed his lips to Aegon's temple and squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of them.

"My Lord," Daemon's voice called out from the doorway and (Y/N) sighed heavily. "I wish to speak with you."

"What about?" His voice sounded hoarse, dry and worn from little care.

"Pressing matters that are best discussed in private," Daemon answered and (Y/N) swallowed harshly, rubbing his cracked lips together in contemplation before he carefully set his son back on the floor and approached the prince, sparing his playing children a glance as the door into the room closed. He inhaled deeply and turned his head toward Daemon.

"What is it?"

"I wish to fly out to King's Landing and kill Vhagar. She is the only thing standing between us and the throne, the old bitch. I asked Rhaenys to accompany me but she refused without Rhaenyra's command. She's always liked you, despite what happened with Laenor. She may yet listen if you ask this of her, or matter of fact, command it. You are our King. She'll have no choice but to-"

"Consort, Daemon. I am King Consort to Queen Rhaenyra. I am but an extension of her and the throne. I will not do or say anything without her knowledge, Daemon, that is my duty. When she returns-"

Daemon's jaw clenched, his voice beginning to rise and echo loudly down the hall. "Rhaenyra has been away for days, (Y/N)! We cannot push forward without our Queen here and she has abandoned her duties to fly out without anyone at her side where she is most vulnerable! Rhaenyra is a queen, she cannot take leave without saying anything-"

"And she's a grieving mother, Daemon. We just learned our son is dead! Our boy is gone. Mere weeks ago he was at our side healthy and happy and- and smiling and now he is dead. We are grieving our- our child. Rhaenyra was a mother before she became queen, or have you forgotten? Luke- Luke was only barely man-grown. We will not see him wed; we will not see him have children; we will not see what could've become of him because-" (Y/N) felt breathless, heart squeezing and twisting as tears flooded his vision again. He was so sick of crying. He inhaled sharply, blinking away the tears whilst Daemon watched grimly. "If Rhaenys believed your plan to be a good one, she would've agreed. Attacking Vhagar will merely put our best fighters and dragons at risk. If you wish to do anything else than be here, you may patrol the island."

"If Rhaenyra does not return soon," Daemon began quietly, voice tittering on the edge of sympathy and irritation. "The Council's support may begin to waver. We look to you in Rhaenyra's absence, and even in her presence many will still desire your approval. They may be here to support her but half of those men are only fulfilling the oath they made to King Viserys, not her. Consort or not, the Council believes you to be a more suitable ruler than Rhaenyra right now."

(Y/N)'s teeth grinded together, his eyes flickering away from the prince as his words churned in his mind. He knew many of the men on their Council well; power-seeking fools who believed themselves to always be in the right regardless of what others thought or said. He'd been drowning in his grief for too long with no remedy whilst the men likely argued and filled each other's heads with ideas of grandeur. For the sake of the realm, for the sake of his wife's greatest desire... (Y/N) had to put aside his grief and longing, even if it swallowed him whole later.

"Check for any reportings of Syrax or Rhaenyra." (Y/N) ordered him, taking a deep inhale and releasing it in a sigh. "I... I will deal with the Council for now."

Setting off for his bedchambers, he gave the servants a list of requests that they quickly scattered off to fulfill. He bathed for the first time in a long while, scrubbing away the grime and sweat that'd accumulated over time before he dried himself and finally dressed himself in something other than sleepwear that felt and looked as regal as his position. He soothed his aching throat with sweetened tea and properly broke his fast with a meal before leaving his bedchambers and heading down the halls to where the Council awaited his arrival.

"My Lord," They rose to their feet and bowed their heads, all but Rhaenys who simply watched him enter, her gaze curious and intrigued. Few of the lords remained standing as he stopped at the end of the table where Rhaenyra's seat was, coming to stand behind it and rest his hands along the top. They watched, waiting for him to sit.

"Before we begin, I'd like to apologize for not attending the past few meetings, but I am here now, and soon so will my wife." (Y/N) took in the exchanged glances and grim, almost annoyed looks that passed over some of their faces. He took note of those who seemed more vexed than the others.

"I know these past days have been dark and confusing for some without our queen here but I'd like to remind you all that Queen Rhaenyra has not forgotten her duties to the Realm and to this council. If she cared little for her position as Queen, you all would be home or in King's Landing serving under the usurper, but you are not. Why? Because Queen Rhaenyra refused to allow her father's wishes to be ignored by Dowager Queen Alicent and the oathbreakers who support her son. You are here because you are not Oathbreakers nor men easily intimidated or swayed. I am thankful for your presence and support, as is my wife as we go through such difficult times. I ask for more patience, patience I will ensure is rewarded when this comes to an end."

He watched them all, unable to push away the jittering nerves bubbling up in his stomach. (Y/N) had always considered himself a confident man but he'd always merely been Otto Hightower's son and nothing more. He knew the moment he married Rhaenyra, it'd be asked of him one day to command or rule in her stead for whichever reason, but he simply never expected it to occur so soon. His eyes jumped to Rhaenys, staring into her unreadable yet gentle eyes, and felt himself relax when she gave him a subtle encouraging nod.

"With that out of the way," (Y/N) cleared his throat and took in another small breath. "Has a letter been sent out to Prince Jacaerys? Has he answered?"

The men exchanged glances once more but only Lord Bartimos Celtigar took a small step forward toward the table to speak, his eyes sliding over the rest of the council in mild irritation. "We... We were not aware an order was given to send a letter for Prince Jacaerys, My Lord." He spoke carefully and slowly.

A beat of silence passed. "The... The brother of the heir to the Iron Throne has died and none of you believed it to be wise to inform him?" (Y/N) questioned, stepping around the chair and pressing his fingers into the table. The men answered in silence and (Y/N) almost rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Maester Gerardys, please prepare a letter for Prince Jacaerys informing him of what has occurred."

"Will you be asking for his presence, My Lord?" Maester Gerardys asked as he rose from his seat, his hands clasping together and being partly covered when his large sleeves rolled down his arms. Perhaps one of the few men (Y/N) could trust amongst the council with his age and experience in overseeing the family's matters. "We have yet to receive word on his progress in the North."

"Tell him.." (Y/N)'s gaze flickered away from the maester, his thumb beginning to rub into the ring on his index finger. Eyes turned back to him, peering at him closely. It felt as if he'd stepped into a den of vipers awaiting one wrong move so they could strike. "Inform him of what has happened and... and that once he has finished securing Cregan Stark's army, he is to return home. He is needed here, now more than ever."

"Of course, My Lord." Maester Gerardys bent slightly at the waist in a bow, the chain around his neck swaying and clinking with his movements before he lowered himself back down into his seat.

"Good," (Y/N) cleared his throat and straightened his back, wetting his lips in uncertainty. Nobody had instructed him on ruling; his childhood had been filled with history books, lessons from maesters and septas, and the basics of how to use a sword and defend himself, but never had it crossed anyone's mind that he'd reach the status of 'King Consort.' He released a quiet sigh. "What news do you all have to share?"

Long stretches of hours passed filled, hardly filled with much necessary news and rather squabbling and insistence in carrying on with a bloody war. (Y/N) stared blankly at the table for half of it, suddenly understanding why his mother oft' seemed in her head whenever his brothers bickered and complained in front of her. Rhaenys and Daemon appeared to share his thoughts, neither providing much input apart from Daemon occasionally agreeing with the idea of pressing forward without Rhaenyra. None of it surprised (Y/N), but he still wished to be with his children instead. He yearned to see Jace, safe and sound within the walls of the castle where no danger could chance upon him.

His legs and back were beginning to ache, and his stomach lightly grumbled for food. His lips parted to provide some excuse to remove himself from the meeting but the doors parted and Ser Erryk strolled into the room, dipping his head to the lords in respect before making a beeline for him. "What is it?" (Y/N) asked instead.

"We found a stowaway in one of the ships." Ser Erryk explained quietly. "The White Worm, she calls herself. She's provided little answers as to why she's come here apart from her desire to have a word with you, My Lord."

"You should remain here." Daemon cut in swiftly before (Y/N) could respond, rising from his seat as the corner of his lips curled. (Y/N)'s gaze darted to him questioningly, his eyes squinting slightly at the prince. "I am well-acquainted with the 'White Worm', My Lord. I shall deal with her for you. There's no need for you to trouble yourself."

(Y/N) pressed his lips into a grim line. "Very well, Daemon." He dismissed him with a nod, catching the wince from Ser Erryk before the knight dipped his head again and escorted the prince off to where they were holding the so-called White Worm. He watched them go, hands coming together and fingers beginning to toy with the rings along his knuckles.

Allowing a long moment to pass, one filled with more squabbling and debating, he let out a heavy sigh. "It has grown quite late." He announced to the lords, savoring the way they grew silent at his words and nodded in agreement.

Before he could continue, however, a distant yet familiar shriek echoed from outside the castle. (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut and swore he felt his heart twist into itself, his body growing stiff when another shriek followed. Syrax. He knew the sound of the golden she-dragon well. How could he not when his wife had insisted on introducing them to each other? His jittering thoughts were confirmed when Daemon returned to the room with Ser Erryk at his heels; the knight positioning himself by the doors and beginning to recite those familiar words:

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

(Y/N) watched her when she entered, breath nearly knocked out of his lungs when they made eye contact from across the room. He'd be a liar if he denied the thought that she'd abandoned them hadn't briefly crossed his mind but there she stood, his wife and queen.

Rhaenyra looked disheveled and utterly exhausted; Her pale skin had grown speckled with dirt and grime; bags had formed under her watery violet eyes; the hair she oft' kept in a neat and long braid had fallen loose from the hairstyle and tumbled down her shoulders in wild, wind-swept strands; her clothes looked worn and dirtied.

Everyone seemingly held their breaths as she staggered into the room and rounded the table, her eyes never leaving his until she stood at his side. The words Daemon and Rhaenys spoke slipped in one ear and out the other for them both, the space held between their bodies feeling agonizingly far. (Y/N)'s eyes flickered between hers, not a fragment of a reaction or emotion on either of their faces but they nonetheless communicated. She'd found his remains.

Rhaenyra broke away first to finally face the Council for the first time in days, her chest falling with a shaky exhale. She stared at the flickering candles littered around the table, her cracked lips parting. She stayed quiet for a beat before lifting her gaze.

"I want... Aemond Targaryen." She spoke, her voice shaking and eyes flooding with unshed tears. Her trembling hand found his and wrapped around him, squeezing him lightly.

"That-" His voice threatened to crack. "That will be all for today, My Lords. I bid you goodnight."

The walk to their bedchambers was a quiet one, a silence the maids ensured to keep as they helped Rhaenyra into her bath and draped her nightgown over the bed. (Y/N) dismissed them with a nod, waiting for them to collect her filthy clothes and depart before he lowered down onto the stool beside the tub. He shed himself of his upper wear until his undershirt remained, tugging the sleeves up to his elbows and taking the soapy sponge into his hand.

"I sent word for Jace." He spoke first, rubbing the sponge into her skin and cleaning away all that'd accumulated there over the past days. Rhaenyra finally seemed to break out of her hazy trance to look upon him, her nostrils flaring slightly and head weakly nodding. He scrubbed lightly at her collarbone, the water beginning to turn in color. "I made an attempt at.. dealing with the Council, but you know I have a low tolerance for vexing old men."

Rhaenyra managed to crack a small smile. "I'm... thankful.. for your patience." She murmured, her still trembling hand grasping one of the other sponges and slowly dragging over her no-doubt aching thighs.

They fell into comfortable silence again. (Y/N) continued helping her bathe, ensuring to wash her hair that'd grown darker in color from days of going ignored. His mind flickered back to his youth as he carefully brushed out the knots, briefly recalling the times he brushed Alicent's hair. But when he thought of Alicent, he thought of Aemond, and then he thought of Luke and how frightened he must've been in his last moments, likely yearning to be in the protective embrace of his parents. His movements stilled, his heart ramming against his ribcage.

"Arrax was torn to shreds," Rhaenyra said quietly, as if she'd read his mind. "They... They washed up onshore... I-I... Arrax's wing and-" She cut herself off with a sharp breath, her teeth digging into the flesh of her bottom lip and eyes fluttering close. Tears slipped down her cheeks, causing ripples in the water when they fell from her chin. "He- He... I- I saw- Oh, my sweet boy," Rhaenyra sobbed, her knees tugging toward her chest and shoulders shaking.

(Y/N) desperately blinked the tears away and took a deep inhale, digging his blunt nails into his palms until the prickle of pain forced his mind to focus on it. A habit he'd fallen into back in his youth, back when their mother passed and his twin needed comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut until the waterworks stopped turning and opened them again.

He leaned down to press his lips against her bare, wet shoulder before doing the same to her jawline. "I know, Nyra, I know. You must weep until you cannot. You must let it out now before it can swallow you again. Our- Our boys need us, Nyra. The Realm, too. They need Queen Rhaenyra to rule and protect them."

Rhaenyra twisted in the tub and slung her arms around his shoulders, her wet skin soaking his shirt as she embraced him. He allowed the brush to fall onto the stone floor with a clatter and slipped his arms around her as well, unable to stop himself from pulling her as close as possible. Rhaenyra continued to cry into his shoulder until the exhaustion of grief and her days out on Syrax crashed into her. He helped her out of the tub and helped her dry, offering her his shoulder to lean on when she slipped on her nightgown.

"I..." Rhaenyra swallowed, her head coming to rest upon her pillow and heavy eyes threatening to lull her off into a deep yet much-needed slumber. "I love you." She exhaled softly, her eyes falling shut and her body growing limp against the bed.

Quietly chuckling, he kissed the space between her brows. "I love you too, Nyra."

Rhaenyra tightly clutched his hand as they waited for their eldest to be escorted into the room. He'd arrived moments prior, per the familiar cry of Vermax and the shadow that'd passed over the castle. It would've been followed by the younger Arrax if the Gods had been kind to them, a thought the two seemed to share for Rhaenyra squeezed his hand even tighter, her nails unintentionally leaving imprints in his skin.

The sound of footsteps drew their blank, distant stares away from the fireplace and toward the two young figures who entered. Baela offered them a sympathetic tight-lipped smile, her hand coming to rest on Jace's arm comfortingly before she exited the room. It hadn't been long since they last saw Jace but still, he somehow appeared older. Perhaps spending time with a man such as Cregan Stark had allowed him to learn much and more. Still, Jace's eyes watered the moment he looked at them, and all (Y/N) saw was his little boy.

"Your Grace, My Lord," Jace began and stepped forward, clasping his hands together as his lips began to quiver. "Lady Jeyce Arryn has pledged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale. And... Lord C-Cregan Stark... has p-promised-"

Unable to sit and watch idly as their son slowly broke down, Rhaenyra set aside her tea and stood up alongside (Y/N), their hands still tightly bound together as if worried if they parted, it'd snap them out of a dream. Jace's features contorted, his brows knitting tightly the moment his parents drew closer, almost collapsing into their arms as sobs wrecked through his body. Rhaenyra cried as well, her hand releasing her husband's to wrap around him instead, pulling her beloveds close to her body.

"We're here, Jace," (Y/N) whispered to him, trekking his fingers through chestnut curls that resembled his side of the family so well. Jace's arm tightened around him in return, his light eyes squeezed shut and snot beginning to trickle down from his nose. There'd been few times Jace had ever sobbed in his arms after infancy. He'd always been the stronger one amongst his brothers, the more resilient one. But alas, he was still their little boy.

With Jace safely home, the funeral was held at late dusk when the moon slowly began to peek over the horizon. Rhaenyra lit the stack of wood on top of the pyre where their boy would've laid had his body been recovered and stepped back whilst Maester Gerardys spoke some funeral rites.

On the other side of the flames stood the Velaryons, amongst them Rhaena who watched with teary eyes as Jace stepped forward to toss a folded blanket that'd once belonged to Luke during his younger years. He took little Joffery into his arms afterward and the little boy tossed the wooden toy horse that Luke often played with into the flames as well.

(Y/N) swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers digging into the fabric of the clothes Luke had been wearing the day before he departed for Storm's End. He walked with Rhaenyra toward the flames, the two parents fighting back the tears and clutching tightly onto the clothes that still held the smell of their son. Rhaenyra pushed her temple into him and exhaled shakily, pressing her hands over his so they could toss the clothes into the fire together and watch the flames hungrily eat at them.

It was done. Their son was gone, taking a piece of their hearts with him to wherever his soul had departed. But the world stopped for no one, not even royalty, and so the incoming war continued to threaten the stability of the Realm and the lives of those in Westeros.

As much as he desired to crawl back into bed until the world ended, (Y/N) had a duty to uphold as the new King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.

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maidragoste · 1 year ago

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The One He Really Wanted

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

The scene I left out of chapter 5 of "The Sea Dragon, the clubfoot and the green queen". Laena deserves a better husband 😔

Sorry, I was supposed to upload this yesterday but I came back tired from university

Comments, reblogs, likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions 💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It was strange to see Daemon so calm. You never thought you would see him holding your son so carefully or see the softness in his eyes. You never saw him interested in Jacaerys or any of his nephews so you thought he would be just as indifferent to your children. Well, Alyn didn't seem to be of Daemon's interest but Aethan was another story. Whenever Daemon came to see you, he preferred to hold him in his arms instead of Alyn. You have the feeling that it has to do with your youngest child having different colored eyes. One purple, like you, and one blue, like Larys. You knew that Daemon's mother also had different colored eyes but unlike your son, her other eye was green instead of blue.

“Does he remind you of her?” you asked, drawing the prince's attention and making him take his eyes off the baby to look at you. “Your mother,” you clarified just in case before he decided to play dumb.

“I've long forgotten what her face looks like,” Daemon confessed and you didn't even think about it when you took his hand and squeezed it. You felt sorry for him. Your mother was one of the most important people in your life, you wouldn't know what you would do without her. You couldn't imagine growing up without her.” When Viserys saw Aethan he said that he reminded him of our mother. I thought that maybe if I looked closely at it at some point I would remember her. I know, it's something stupid” a bitter laugh escaped his lips.

“I don't think it's something stupid,” you said firmly as you caressed his hand with your thumb. "You shouldn't feel ashamed for thinking about your mother. But you can stay calm. I won't tell anyone that the great Daemon Targaryen has feelings" you said in the last part with fake exasperation making the prince smile. It didn't take you long to mirror his smile. You liked this Daemon better, not the idiot who had spent months being a damn bother with his comments about Jacaerys' true paternity. If Larys were with you he would tell you not to be stupid, that the prince would probably return to his old attitude when Rhaenyra's other bastard was born.

Aethan complained seeing that he was no longer the center of attention making you laugh.

“He's demanding like you,” Daemon said, reluctantly letting go of your hand only to rock the baby again, quickly calming his whining.

“You're good to him, you know?” The softness in your eyes didn't have to mean anything to Daemon but everything about you matters to him. Again he wondered what things would be like now if he had shown up to your wedding with Harwin Strong, if he had let you know that it was an option, that he wanted you. Maybe it would be your child and his that he held in his arms, maybe Aethan would have a green eye like his mother. “You and Laena should give Aethan and Alyn cousins to play with.” At the mention of your sister brought Daemon back to reality.

“Maybe in a long time from now” you couldn't help but be disappointed when you saw her non-existent excitement at the idea of starting a family with your sister, you knew that Laena longed to have her own family. You and Laenor had noticed how loving she was with your children and how she would stare longingly every time Daemon picked up one of the twins.

“Aethan would be angry if we took the focus off of him,” the prince excused himself as he saw the disappointment in your eyes. “He can barely share my attention with you, imagine with another baby.”

Before you could tell him that he was talking shit the doors opened revealing your mother. You watched in confusion as she narrowed her eyes in the prince's direction. What did Daemon do to upset your mother? Had he fought with your sister?

“What did you do?” you whispered.

“Your mother is only bothered by my simple existence” he replied although he knew why Rhaenys was looking at him like that. His cousin always knew that the one he really wanted was you. Laena could pretend to have never seen him look at you but Rhaenys didn't so she was always aware of his interactions with you.

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avatar4life · 2 months ago

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You know what I want to see, a pirate, or Arena fighter or dragonkeeper or any kind of 'man' job reader with yandere hotd, like I like the trope of reader being sweet and nice but that's overused, I NEED BADASS READER WHO CAN AND WILL FIGHT THE TARGARYENS FOR HER FREEDOM OR CAN KEEP UP WITH THEIR VIOLENT TENDENCIES. You feel me?

#yandere house of the dragon #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #viserys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #lucerys velaryon #rhaenys targaryen #corlys velaryon #joffrey velaryon #daemon targaryen

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lady-targaryens-world · 1 year ago

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The only Daughter: Prolog

Note: It is my first story and i hope you like the Prolog….. ik it is very short!

English is not my native language!

Pairing: ? x Fem! Targaryen reader

Please like, comment and share 🫶

******************

You're the first born child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon

You are the only child of Rhaenyra who has Valyrian silver hair and purple eyes or better said, you have a purple eye and a green eye like Alyssa Targaryen, the mother of your grandfather Viserys and his brother Daemon the rogue prince.

Your eyes were also the reason why your grandfather cried when he held you in his arms for the first time, because after all those years he saw his mother in your beautiful eyes again.

You were the only grandchild of Viserys where he wanted to choose the name too.

Rhaenyra and Viserys thought about to name you after the late Queen Aemma or after Viserys mother Alyssa. But your father Laenor wanted a name for you which no Targaryen or Velaryon had yet.

Rhaenyra and Viserys agreed that you need an exceptional name, one that nobody will ever forget. And so they decided to name you

y/n Velaryon.

A few weeks after your birth, there were many rumors about you and your mother. Many believed you were the true-born daughter to Prince Daemon Targaryen with Princess Rhaenyra. Viserys didn’t want to hear any of these rumours, for him you were his true-born granddaughter.

After you were born in King’s Landing, your parents made a big feast in celebration. Many lords and ladies from everywhere of the realm have arrived to see you and to be able to be there at your feast.

Your mother and father received many congratulations for your birth and many gifts were brought for you. You also received a gift from your aunt Lady Laena. After she heard about your birth, she went to the nest of her she-dragon Vhagar and chosed a black egg with red stripes for you.

That evening you were also named as the heiress of the iron throne. Both your mother and grandfather adhered to the tradition that the first-born child, whether boy or girl should inherit the throne.

But for many Lords of the realm and most of all for the Hightowers, it was bad enough that your mother Princess Rhaenyra was named as heiress of the iron throne.

But when you another princess were named as the next heiress, the protests among the lords became more, for them neither you or your mother were the rightful heirs but Aegon Targaryen your uncle and the firstborn son of the King.

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dahliarosebud · 5 months ago

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- Love Is A war Series ~ Aemond x Reader

• Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

• HOTD MASTER-LIST

• FANDOMS-MASTER-LIST

Warnings: nail biting, mentioned war, conflict, hinted abuse, mentioned grief/just grief, mentioning of funerals

Synopsis: After bending the knee, Rhaenyra is now your Queen. You have made your bed, but the question still lies whether you will lie in it or just ruffle the sheets. All the while your father - Daemon - is quick to jump into war.

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It was beautiful. You had to admit. The way the orange illuminated under the table. The way the cold room warmed from the fire after the biting cold of outside which the stone never truly kept out.

I stood beside Baela awaiting Rhaenyra, my heart thumped with every impending echoey footstep that haunted the halls. I was not afraid. No. More in awe, in a sense, to see a woman sit the throne or will sit the throne. It was breathtaking. That was the true beauty.

The orange glow was hers. Her castle. Her council. Her crown. Her throne. Her war table.

But our war.

I bowed my head as my father's voice rang through as he listed Rhaenyra's titles. They swam in my head - so surreal. Rhaenyra stepped forward, honking metal following until she fell short, the men only one toe behind. None of them blinked. A warning. The unsettling feeling of unbatting-eyed clunking metal men behind you, are all too familiar. But they listened to her. Their Queen.

They stepped back some and remained in place.

I watched as Rhaena moved forward cup in hand, "Wine my Queen." Rhaenyra seemed unsettled, hesitating to take the cup, but still my mother's smile lay perfect on my little sister's face.

"Thank you, Rhaena." Her voice was still soft. Mothering. "Come."

Rhaenyra continued her path forward with Rhaena a step behind her before she turned to Baela nodding for her to follow with a small gentle smile as her eyes met mine. Baela looked at our grandsire for permission before moving in step just a short pace behind. They all gathered around the table.

I moved closer to Rhaenys.

It was silent. For a minute. Nothing, but crashing waves and flittering ocean breeze. All eyes remained on the Queen. Awaiting judgement. Awaiting anything at all.

"What is our standing?" The only place she seemed to be able to look was at my father.

"We have thirty knights, one hundred and three hundred men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired..." my father's voice seemed to drone on, but all I could hear still were his silent cries on the beach. Mournful cries. So similar. Like those I cried at my mother's funeral.

Strange how age doesn't influence grief. Just the person who was lost.

I watched as Jace placed pieces onto the board. Each house which has (so far) rallied to our side. "Lord Boris Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises." Rhaenyra's voice carried and silence followed.

I looked to the floor. The way my dress skirted across my shoes. The clinking of metal against wood was loud. Like when Aegon used to whack at Aemond's wooden sword with his steel one. I jumped as the Queen's voice flowed in my direction.

"What news from Driftmark?" I raised my head to look at my grandmother. Her head remained high, her shoulders back. She emanated confidence. Embodied it even. I followed suit.

It was unnerving how Rhaenyra's eyes bore into what almost felt the space in-between. Unwavering. "Lord Corlys sails to Dragonstone."

Her voice was soft compared to my father's biting tone, "To declare for his Queen." Confidence never wavered between the two of them. It was clear to anyone here that they had never seen eye to eye.

No addressing my father, "The Velaryon fleet is in my husband's yoke. He decides where they sail." Her voice was steady, soft and calm. Despite my father's glaring from the head of the table.

"We shall pray for both you and your husband's support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake's return to good health," Rhaenys looked down and swallowed as Rhaenyra's words sat on her shoulders, "There's no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet." Rhaenyra turned away.

I studied my grandmother's face. Stoic, but with a small smile. Pride? Jealousy? One would not know until it falls from the lips that stayed purse on the face of a woman who should have been. She turned slightly to look me in my eyes. I smiled softly at her. Her lips remained unmoving. Permanent. Unwavering.

Unlike loyalty it seems.

"Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons." Silence once again cut. Deep and harsh.

"The Greens have dragons as well," Rhaenyra seemed nervous as she rang her hands.

"They have three adults, by my count," my father cut in, "We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys." Rhaenys tilted her head. "Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer and Y/n has Selene." I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Daemon. None of our dragons have been to war," Rhaenyra's tone seemed final.

Yet, my father persisted. "There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless." I looked over to Rhaena. She looked nervous as she watched my father, "Then there are the three wild dragons, all. of whom nest here."

"And who is to ride them?"

I turned away to the sound of slapping feet on stone. Erryk moved to meet him. A messenger. A harbinger of sorts. "...surround King's Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted one spikes before the fucking moon turns."

"Your Grace. A ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon," I felt my blood run cold and my mouth sour. Sweat began to prickle on my skin.

"Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies," my eyes trailed after my father. He seemed at home, interwoven with chaos. The blue in his veins. Rhaenyra remained.

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I stood in the middle of the mass. I could see the top of my father's head pacing as he awaited the opposition. My chest squeezed in distaste as Otto Hightower came into view, his own men - his grandson's men - his daughter's men trailing behind him.

Otto stopped just far enough that he'd still be able to hear over the waves, the sun painting an orange sky behind him. Ember-ed fire. "I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. I've been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra. Where is the princess?"

I smiled a little at the familiar screech of Syrax as the beat of wings flew overhead. Rhaenyra circled Otto and his men as they all looked up, bodies twisting to follow her movements. And in the setting sun you could proudly see the glowing gold that sat upon her head. She landed behind the knights who all turned quickly as they leaned back as Syrax bellowed from where she is perched on the ledge.

They all parted as she walked down the middle, head held high. Her silver hair swayed gently as she came to stand next to my father. Otto stared after her, his mouth slightly ajar. "Princess Rhaenyra."

"I'm Queen Rhaenyra now." She did not waver. My gaze drifted to see my father staring at her before my eyes fell back onto her, "And you are all traitors to the realm."

"King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name...in his wisdom and desire for peace..." Syrax gently gurgled and snapped her jaws "...is offering terms." I rolled my eyes. Aegon can hardly get a sentence out over his blubbering. Were these Aegon's terms or his mother's?

"Acknowledge Aegon as King and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your true born son, Jacaerys, upon your death. Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon." I could see my father growing restless as he shifted from one foot to another.

"Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honor at court: Aegon the Younger as the King's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer," my tongue kissed at my teeth. My little brother's cupbearers, practically servants to a drunken man who calls himself King while his mother practically sits the throne for him, "Finally, his King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent." Otto's voice grew rough as he got louder.

No one moved. And I didn't dare breathe, scared to make sound or the tiniest movement. "I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shield and cups for your drunken usurper cunt of a King." I chewed at the sore spot of my cheek to keep from laughing.

"Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conqueror's crown, wields the conqueror's sword, has the conqueror's name." And still a man pretending to be someone he's not. Like a child playing dress up before her being caught by one of her Septa's. "He was anointed by a sexton of the Faith before the eye of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him."

I felt a pit form, ready to gather dread, at the bottom of my stomach as Otto began to list Noble Houses who are all considering siding with the Greens. With Aemond. "Stole oaths will not put you on the throne princess," Otto moved forward and the Queen's Guard all moved, ready to draw their swords. Awaiting the words.

Ready for warm crimson to drip from the cold edge.

I fell back from the mass as Rhaenyra moved forward as I turned to make my way back inside the castle. "Fucking traitor," rained out across the loud as Syrax once again gurgled. I turned to see the Hand's Pin flung into the crashing sea below.

I felt content.

I hurried up the winding walk, my hands picked up the skirt of dress so I could move faster. Syrax's agitated roar called behind me just as I made it through the doors where two men allowed me in. I raced through the courtyard to where people still battled in quiet corners of their own, before the doors were opened to allow me in.

I retraced my steps back to my chambers. The fire was dim, casting dancing shadows all around, for my eyes to trace as I removed my cloak. Allowing it to pool to the floor. Quickly I made my way back to the war room.

------------

I stood in the spot I was previously watching my father's and Rhaenyra's argument unfold. Rhaenyra doesn't want to rule over "ash and bone" and still my father does not, will not offer her such luxury. It is clear he lives through her. He wishes it was his head haloed by a golden crown. But alas it is not.

My father all but marched to stand in front of the fireplace. The whole room was set alight, my father's shadow cast small across the table, but still large enough to loom.

"Clear the room." Simultaneously, everyone made their way out. Rhaenyra still staring at my father. Neither have moved from their current positions. My father's chest is heaving with anger. Like that night.

I fell into step with Jace and Luke. "Hello," I greeted both, kindly, awkwardly. Jace stared at my face before turning away and walking up ahead, Luke turned to offer me a smile before quickening his pace to walk with his brother once again. I stopped as knights and men and the Maester weaved around me as I watched the two boys walk away.

This is what it is to mourn a friendship rather than someone individually. The hairs on the back of my neck raised as I felt a hand press on my left shoulder, my hand moving to grab the handle of my dagger. "It is just me sweet girl," I felt the tension ease, but my shoulders ache. Everything aches.

I smiled a tired smile. Only now I realize why Rhaenys’ is so familiar. It’s the same.

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I paced in front of my - now reignited - fireplace. My dress was uncomfortable with the way it rubbed against my collar bones. My thumb nail had started to bleed as the skin around it is tared and snagged at by my clenched teeth. My eyes are turned down watching my fast and careful repetitive steps. My stomach lurched with dizziness.

I stopped to look at the exposed steel of my sword that rested on the chest at the foot of my bed. The mirror like metal glittered orange licks of fire. I sucked gently at my wounded thumb before dropping it to my side and grabbing the arm with my other hand. An insecure sense of security that could break with simple rejection.

I turned to the soft knock at my door. I sucked in an aching breath before walking forward. Scoldingly freezing iron grasped in my hand as I released my breath. I pulled the door open. My heart stuttered in my chest with surprise. Having half expected my father or Rhaenys, but neither stand in my door. Instead Jacaerys stands in their place. A welcome, nerve-racking sight.

“Jace,” I breathed as he pushed past me, “what are you doing here?” The question felt foreign in my mouth, my back turned to him as I softly shut my door with a quiet ‘clunk’.

“Why?”

I stopped, my hand still on the metal doorknob, “What?”

“I just want to know why him? Out of everyone why him?” His voice seemed far and yet; I could feel his eyes so close. I could practically feel his breath on the back of my neck. My skin itched. I wanted to scratch it raw.

I pressed my forehead to the wood and squeezed my eyes shut, “it’s simple really,” I opened my eyes to brown before turning to see the younger stood where I was pacing moments ago, “I love him. I always have.”

“And yet you bent the knee.”

“And yet I bent the knee.”

“Why?”

I huffed at his constant questions, but he deserved an answer. A reason rather than an excuse. I walked towards him, were ye level now. How strange. I remember when he was shorter. How he was so small. How quiet and high his voice was. But here he is all grown up in front of my eyes and still I blinked, and I missed it.

“Because Jace, my duty and honor lie with family rather than love that can easily be lost as easily as it was found, and yet still...” I paused trying to swallow around the lump in my throat.

“Still?” he questioned his eyes watching my face for anything. Anything at all.

“Still, I love him despite everything. I still yearn for him. I know that you know that feeling all too well. Wanting something you can’t have that is.”

His face bloomed red, “I don’t know what you speak of.”

“I was there you know. I saw how you looked at Haelena when you danced together, but that’s all it can be, a look. Anything else is dangerous, jeopardizing. As you have seen,” my voice fell tight at the end. My bones ached for Aemond and still my chest stirred with unease. “Do not worry Jace you will make for a wonderful husband for my sister, I have no doubt.”

He nodded as he looked down at his shoes. I smiled. I have missed Aemond, but all the while I had never realized how much I have missed this. Missed my siblings. “Get some rest, we will both need some for tomorrow.”

I escorted him out, my head peeking out the gap as his silhouette faded into the black of the hall.

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TAGS:

@callsignwidow

#dahliarosebud #hotd #aemond targaryen #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon #baela targaryen #jacerys velaryon #rhaena velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon #rhaenys targaryen #hotd season 1 #dad daemon #y/n x aemond targaryen #Y/n Targaryen #episode 10 hotd #house targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra

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l-uminescent · 4 months ago

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━━━━NAVIGATION!

megan, nineteen, she/her, gemini, slytherin, writer for hotd

daughter of hades, jason grace's #1 fan, regulus black’s gf, finn shelby & michael gray apologist, supporter of jacaerys velaryon's rights & wrongs, anakin skywalker's wife

lover of making new friends

harry potter / marauders account, l-uminescentt

wattpad, -luminescent

masterlist, request guidelines

requests are on hold!

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novaursa · 2 months ago

Note

you could do a visenya and rhaeyns x young brother reader

Blood of the Three

Requests are closed!

- Summary: You spend some time in the embrace of your sisters.

- Paring: Rhaenys Targaryen/brother!reader/Visenya Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @literaturedog @oxymakestheworldgoround

The night sky over Dragonstone was thick with clouds, dark and unyielding as the waves crashed against the rocky shores below. The faint flicker of torches illuminated the winding paths of the ancient fortress, casting long, wavering shadows that moved like specters in the cool sea breeze. Within the walls, however, there was warmth—a different kind of warmth that seemed to coil around you, an almost palpable energy that drew you closer to your sisters.

You stood at the edge of a large chamber, your gaze lingering on the carved stone walls, but your mind was elsewhere. You could hear Rhaenys’ soft laughter from across the room, a sound that always pulled at something deep inside you, while Visenya’s presence felt like a constant—her watchful eyes ever upon you, piercing in their intensity.

It was Visenya who spoke first, her voice low and commanding, as it always was. "You are too far from us, brother. Come closer."

There was no denying her, not that you ever wanted to. Your feet carried you across the cold stone floor as the firelight danced around you, casting your shadow long and tall. You could feel the weight of their gazes on you, the unspoken bond that had always existed between the three of you. Rhaenys lay sprawled on a set of plush furs, her lithe body relaxed and radiant, her eyes alight with amusement as she watched you approach.

Visenya stood by the fire, her silver-gold hair catching the light, making her seem otherworldly, almost like a goddess carved from moonlight. She looked at you in that way she always did—possessive, protective, but something else as well, something deeper that neither of you had ever fully spoken of but both of you understood.

“You spend too much time lost in thought, Y/N,” Rhaenys teased, her voice warm and sultry as she shifted on the furs, inviting you to sit beside her. "Always so serious."

You smirked at her remark but said nothing, settling down beside her as the heat of her body mingled with yours. Visenya joined the two of you, her movements fluid and graceful as she sat on your other side, closer than was necessary, but that was how it always was between the three of you. Proximity had never been an issue—if anything, it was a comfort, a reminder of the bond that tied you together.

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant roar of the sea the only sounds filling the space. Rhaenys leaned her head on your shoulder, her silver hair brushing against your cheek as her fingers traced lazy patterns on your forearm. "Do you ever wonder," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "what it would have been like if we had been born in a different time? If things were different?"

You turned your head slightly, catching the glint of mischief in her violet eyes. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged, though her fingers never stopped their gentle movements on your skin. "Perhaps if we were not bound by duty... by expectations." Her eyes flickered to Visenya briefly before returning to you. "Perhaps we would be free to do what we wished."

Visenya, who had been watching the flames, finally spoke, her voice softer than usual. "We are Targaryens. We make our own destiny. It is the rest of the world that bends to our will, not the other way around."

Her words were sharp, but there was a tenderness in her tone reserved only for you and Rhaenys. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your hand, and for a moment, all three of you were connected—physically, emotionally, in ways that others could never understand.

“You’ve always believed that, haven’t you?” you said, turning your hand over to grasp hers, feeling the coolness of her skin against yours. "That we are above the world’s rules."

“We are,” Visenya replied, her gaze intense as it met yours. “We are dragons. And dragons do not bow.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the power that flowed through your blood, through all of your blood. But there was something more here, something unspoken and deeper than even your shared legacy. The three of you had always been close—closer than most would deem appropriate—but that closeness had only intensified over the years.

Rhaenys lifted her head from your shoulder, her lips curving into a soft smile as her fingers stilled on your arm. "Perhaps we do make our own destiny," she murmured, leaning in closer until her breath was warm against your neck. "But that doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy the moments we have now."

There was a fire in her eyes, a heat that matched the one building in your chest. Visenya’s hand tightened slightly in yours, as if she, too, could feel the shift in the air between the three of you.

“You’re both impossible,” you muttered, though there was no conviction in your words.

Rhaenys laughed softly, her lips brushing against your jawline, sending a surge of warmth through your veins. Visenya’s other hand came to rest on your chest, her touch firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment. Together, they surrounded you, their warmth and their presence filling the room in a way that nothing else could. The three of you had always been inseparable, but this felt different—more intimate, more raw.

Rhaenys’ laughter faded into something softer as she pressed her lips to yours, a kiss full of warmth and affection, her hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck. Visenya watched, her eyes darkening, before leaning in to press her lips to your temple, her touch possessive in a way that was entirely her.

The world outside the chamber ceased to exist, leaving only the three of you in the warmth of the fire, surrounded by the unbreakable bond you shared. Here, within the walls of Dragonstone, you were not Targaryens bound by duty or destiny. Here, you were simply together—a family, bound by something deeper than blood.

And in this moment, that was all that mattered.

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damn-stark · 4 months ago

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Chapter 12 The Siren’s trick

Chapter 12 of Moonlight

A/N- Welcome back Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark

Warning- Swearing, talks of death, and sexual harassment, ANGST!!, fluff, SPOILERS, ser gwayne (tehe), LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Only part of 2x03

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

—Cregan this might be a cold continuation from what I was previously writing, but it cannot be helped. I did not want to leave you waiting, and I did not want you to hear rumors about me. And really, you are the only person I can tell what I’m about to say.

This will be my first and last letter. I am returning to King’s Landing, to infiltrate the Greens on Daemon’s behalf. I did not want to, I had told my mother I was not going, but just tonight they sent someone to kill her in her sleep, she got saved, but I cannot stay here and do nothing when I can be on the other side and be the thing she needs to win this war.

I might be killed, or I might not. I do not know, it’s a risk I am willing to take for my Queen. And if I am killed and this is the last time I ever talk to you, thank you. For everything…

I left my mother a note, I apologized for leaving and bestowing her with even more worry. I told her that I’m willing to do anything to help her get her throne back. Yet the one thing I did not tell her was how scared I am to return.

I’m terrified. I’m truly terrified. I knew fear, I felt it when I was in labor, but this fear I feel now is new, grander, and more horrifying, but it’s my duty to leave and help my Queen even if I have to leave behind all that I ever wanted.

I hope we see each other again. Take care of your boy.

Love, yours truly, your Darling.

“I know I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you apologize to Aerion as he begins to whine after being woken up when you take him from his cradle. “<But we’re going to see your father, hm?>” You try to assure him Valyrian so the guards outside don’t hear and go alert your brother or your mother.

And even if you don’t think Aerion would quite understand what you offer him in return for waking him up, he actually smiles faintly in response before he settles against your chest as you cradle him against you.

Luckily the guards don’t question why you’re taking your child out so late at night, they don’t care that you’re dressed in a different gown than the one you just wore earlier. They watch you scurry away in a hurry without as much as a single comment which will probably get them in trouble with your mother when she finds out you're gone, but they don’t know you’re disobeying her and sneaking off Dragonstone to go into enemy territory.

No one knows, you told no one to make it easier on you

and on them, and also so nobody would try to stop you; even if not so deep below the surface you’re hoping someone will catch you rushing down the corridors and stop you. You don’t want to leave, you don’t want to be under Aegon’s rule now that he’s king and no one can truly tell him what to do. Before he would already get away with commenting stupid shit when Aemond wasn’t around you, and your friend and handmaiden Vanessa was spared from his tactics because you would tell him to leave her alone, but now that he has superior control and power?

But then there’s also Aemond. You don’t want to face Aemond. You don’t want to look into his eye and pretend you’re okay with the heartbreak he caused you and your family. You don’t want to sleep next to the man who killed your brother, and no matter the gaping hole in your chest, you don’t want to let him touch you in the most intimate way. Most importantly you don’t want to leave your family again. You want to stay, you want to fight amongst them.

You want someone to catch you mid-escape and stop you.

Someone. Anyone.

You get closer and closer to the cave's mouth where the dragons come and go, where you’ll find Astraea and Vanessa waiting, and still, no one comes out from the darkness of their rooms, and no guards question why you’re strapping Aerion to your chest as you rush down the corridors.

You’re only paces away. Moments from reaching your dragon, and finally you run into a presence.

“Grandmother,” you mouth breathlessly and finish securing your child’s straps.

Your grandmother looks you up and down, realizing your gown is not one used to sleep, and Aerion is too secure around you to just be heading for a stroll. You’re up to something and she’s the only one to notice.

“Granddaughter,” she greets and glances out the window in the distance to double-check that it is in fact still nightfall. “Why are you not abed?”

You swallow thickly and even if you hope she stops you in your attempts, you interject with your argument. “The Queen got attacked by Ser Arryk, who pretended to be his twin.”

Your grandmother nods. “I heard. That’s why I am here. Is her Grace all right?”

You nod lightly. “Shaken, but okay…I have to do this,” you continue blurting in your defense. “I have to do what Daemon told me to do in hopes that it will be my mother's path to her rightful throne.”

Your grandmother nods again but this time it’s a much more gentle nod as her face fills with concern yet also shows slivers of pride.

“I don’t want to return to King’s Landing, I don’t want her to feel like I abandoned her, but if it stops more of the people I love from dying or getting hurt, and if it gets her on that throne then I have to try,” you share without making it a question because under your hesitation you believe what you say.

“Don't stop me,” you lie and internally shout the opposite with tears clouding your eyes, but not falling because you fight them back to try and look confident. “It’s the right thing to do. And I’m the only one who can do it.”

Your grandmother holds your gaze and right away reads you like a book; she sees your fear, she notices how you plead with your eyes to be stopped, but she also sees your desperation to help, she sees your determination, and your hunger to do more. She sees a warrior, a woman she’s proud of, and she can’t say no to that because she knows that beyond all that fear you’re desperate to help.

“They’re snakes,” she speaks sweetly but with confidence so you could feel the same. “And you’re a dragon. Always remember that.”

You draw in a deep breath and nod slowly. She approaches you and grabs your face, making you look her in the eyes and see the pride she feels for you.

“If you ever find yourself in trouble send me a raven or whatever it is you can. Meleys and I will be there as soon we can, okay?”

You nod in comprehension and grab a hold of her hands as if your life depends on it.

“I love you, grandmother. I will see you again,” you muster to say with a tender smile and no tears.

“I love you too,” she redirects as she caresses your cheeks. “Be careful.”

After one last lingering look you pull away before you’re caught by someone who will stop you, and step out into the cave still hoping the same, but feeling more empowered now to leave and play your part.

The feeling of being so close to the stars does have a way of calming the nervousness that has your hands trembling and ties your stomach into knots. The sight of the glimmering sea basked by the moon's light does help you escape your terrorizing fear and feel at peace, like all you’re doing is taking a late night flight, admiring the stars from the heavens, and answering the sea's call. It's easy to find your resolution in the tranquility, now rather than panic, the belief that your path will lead you right back to Jacaerys, your mother, your grandparents, and your cousins makes you feel at ease over your choice. This is also why you’re leaving, after all, to be with them in a better world.

Yet just as your breaths are calm, and your heart eases to its normal resting beat, the moment you see the crowded and lively city, the large castle on that cliff, and notice all the eyesores that are the Scorpions aligned the top of the wall, your stomach twists tighter to the point you feel like vomiting, your heart pounds faster, and your chest tightens which is a new and unwelcoming change.

“DRAGON!” You hear the echoes of men coming from below as they all work hard to point the scorpions at Astraea calmly coming to a stop so they don’t have the audacity to shoot her.

“Vanessa,” you say and peer over your shoulder. “Wave the white flag so they know we’re no trouble.”

You then glance down at your aware child and caress the back of his little head. “<We’re almost to your father, okay?>” You whisper to Aerion before you press a light feathered kiss on his head. “<You should be sleeping though, hm?>”

Aerion has learned to blow raspberries thanks to his uncle's Viserys and Aegon, so he responds with spit all over your chest.

“<Lovely,>” you mutter, but then again it beats getting peed on. Which he has done, a lot, luckily most times Aemond is the victim of his son's incidents.

“Okay,” Vanessa steals your attention as she grabs onto one of your shoulders to wave the white flag you made sure to bring for this exact purpose.

However, in the midst of waving the flag of peace, and while some guards hesitantly drop their threatening aim, a large arrow is shot at Astraea unbeknownst to you or Vanessa. It comes whizzing at you as the flag continues to be waved in the sky, but luckily, thanks to the gods, Astraea notices the arrow coming at her from the corner of her watchful eye and jolts down before taking a sharp turn.

You let out a shocked gasp whilst also becoming alert of all your surroundings, and Vanessa throws herself on your back to keep herself secured.

The arrow aimed at your dragon's neck luckily flies past you and her thanks to your dragon's efforts, yet missing doesn’t spare your dragon's fury that mirrors yours.

“<Stupid idiots,> you grimace and snap your glare at the men who are to blame, finding them confused but also alert. They don’t see your piercing glare, but your dragon mirrors it before she lets out a loud and furious guttural roar.

“<Astraea,” you call out and lean down as much as you can to caress her side. “Calm down. Calm down, girl.>” you coo in High Valyrian in hopes she’ll listen, but she’s too clouded with anger, after all, she knows you didn’t come with intentions of fighting, and she knows that Vanessa and baby Aerion are straddled on her so she begins to circle around as she shakes her head and keeps throwing out angry shrieks.

“<Astraea,” you call again without losing your patience. “calm down. Calm down. We’re okay. You saved us. We’re okay, calm down girl.>”

Astraea finishes her circle and opens her mouth, letting out low chitters as she prepares to blast out fire at the men responsible.

“<Calm,” you coo and pat her. “Calm, my girl. We’re fine. We’re safe. Calm.>”

Astraea slowly closes her mouth and peers over to meet your gaze and assure herself that you and those with you are fine.

“<We’re okay,>” you assure her and pass her the same emotion with your eyes.

Astraea holds your gaze for a moment longer before she looks ahead at the same time you do.

“Are you okay, Vanessa?” You make sure to ask in the common tongue as you let out a deep and relieved breath.

“Yes, Princess,” she assures you. “Aerion?”

You glance down at your son and see him smiling which probably means he found Astraea’s antics amusing.

“He’s fine,” you say with relief of your own and caress the back of his head while noticing that all the guards now drop their aim and depart from the Scorpions, letting you push your handles forward to nudge Astraea down.

Nevertheless, when Astraea is descending to the ground, just past the Iron Gate, all those nervous and uneasy feelings come rushing back after you were rattled with fear and anger over acts of stupid people who don’t know what white flags mean.

When your feet hit the ground though, and you see castle guards already waiting for you by the gates, all those feelings that overwhelm you, increase tenfold. Now your blood pumps so hard that it interferes with your sight.

“I have renounced the…false Queen Rhaenyra,” you hide the strain in your voice as you say words you don’t mean, before also saying words that actually hurt you to say. “I have come to pledge my loyalty to King Aegon.”

The guards look at one another with confusion so you interject. “Where is Ser Criston Cole? Why is he not here to greet me?”

A commander steps forward and raises his head before he fills their silence without giving you the answer you sought. “Give us your weapons, Princess, and come with us.”

You shrug the satchel of arrows and your bow off your shoulders before grabbing your gown's skirt and pulling it up, making the man look away and miss the dagger you had strapped around your thigh. Once he sees the weapon land at his feet he meets your gaze again.

“I request an audience with the King, and my husband,” you demand with your nose in the air as the men pick up your weapons.

“They were alerted of your arrival,” the guard says and steps back to point ahead.

Before you walk past the gates you scoff and sass him. “Was my husband alerted of the incompetence of your men on the wall, Ser? A white flag means what?”

The man swallows thickly and lowers his head as he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Surrender or a request for parley.”

You feign a dry laugh and nod. “Yes, yet an arrow was shot at my dragon whilst my son and my handmaiden rode with me. I will have all the names of the squadron who shot that arrow.”

The guard nods and steals a glance back at your dragon still behind you, growling as she watches for any wrong moves that might be made.

“Come with us, Princess,” the guard finally guides you forward and you’re hastily helped in a carriage that rushes you inside the castle walls where you’re immediately repulsed by the green and gold banners that are plastered everywhere.

The sight of them actually saves you from your torment, but only for a little because once you’re inside you’re slammed with all your emotions and you can’t help how your eyesight only seems to focus on what’s directly ahead of you. Everything else is swallowed by darkness as all your senses falter, and your heart and blood pound.

A part of you immediately expects to get ambushed once you walk into the throne room, and another part of you fears being greeted by Aemond alone because you know he won’t delay, he would come straight down the moment he was told of your sudden and ominous arrival. You would worry over Aegon, but it’s still dark out, and you can’t imagine he dropped all his temptations because he was bestowed with a great purpose, so you know for certain he won’t be waiting for you upon the throne.

Nonetheless, when you hold Vanessa’s hand in anticipation and approach the welcoming throne room, all you actually see is an empty hall and an empty seat.

Hundreds of candles light the hall, but it doesn’t make the throne room feel less unsettling. You once used to feel unbothered by the great room, after all, this was your home, you knew the meaning this room held, but you could never say you felt awe. It was another room. Now though, you feel uneasy like, when you walk into a stranger's home. Most of the hall has remained unchanged, besides the banners and large statue of your grandfather King Viserys in construction, but besides that, it's remained the same. Yet you can’t help but feel at odds.

You don’t like the ill feeling, you don’t like that besides the guards and Vanessa, the throne room is lonely. It only works to worsen what you already feel. It only makes the Throne Room seem dark.

You’re consumed by darkness and it makes you want to run and return home where it’s warm and surrounded by those you love. You want to leave. You shift your feet to storm away without any thought, but at that precise moment, the throne room doors open once again, welcoming in a shining light that casts on the ground and rolls down to your feet.

You expect a rowdy greeting from the King, but in the silence you capture the shadow of a tall and slender figure get painted on the ground instead. Now you need no help figuring out who the shadow belongs to, you know who it is without having to look back. Just like you recognize the sound of his footsteps as they climb down the steps.

You would know his footsteps blind and deaf, by the mere vibrations that strike the ground. You could recognize him by just his alluring scent, by his breaths as they furl in and out of his body. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know that it’s your husband, it’s Aemond.

He was the light that filled this hall and unwantedly calmed down your urgency to run.

And as if attracted to the light, you look back. Every muscle in your body yells at you to not look, your mind shouts at you to avert your gaze, but your bleeding heart can’t resist, it makes you look back to see him; the man who killed your brother, your husband, your Aemond, surrounded by the very candlelight that attracted you.

He meets your gaze and you meet his, causing your heart to skip a beat, and a breath to escape past your lips, whilst you also capture the disbelief written so plainly all over his face. It's almost like he can’t believe you’re standing across from him, and how can he?

You look like a dream to him with the way the moonlight and all the stars shining through the large windows bask you in their luminous light, making you look like a beautiful deity. A divine angel sent to him from above with the blessing that is your child.

And how can he not expect you to be some otherworldly presence? He sent letters in hopes you could return home so he could explain what happened because he knows how much you love your brothers, but you never came. Not until now, here you are standing under the throne, watching him without missing a step, with betrayal, and heartbreak he can easily read off your face.

He expected anger, but all he sees is pain. Heart aching pain that sets his world off its axis.

He had hurt you before, six years ago, but not like this. Six years ago when he accidentally cut your face he saw disbelief and horror, pain too, but not like this, he never heard your silent ‘why?’ screams that your eyes shout out at this moment. He never saw sorrow droop your eyes like they do now, and his guilt for hurting you was never as tremendous as it is now.

He hurt you, the one who’s loved him like no one has before. The person who’s brought him only happiness, and a blessing in your son. That’s why he wants you to be angry because he did something he can’t take back—and he does expect you to be overcome with anger later, you’re not one to swallow it down for him. Yet right now all he sees is disbelief and agony that gets more and more painful the closer he gets to you, until finally, you rip your eyes away when he’s only a few feet away.

“Look,” you coo at Aerion with a smile and stinging tears brimming in your eyes. “Look who it is, my love.”

Aerion yawns back mindlessly since he can't pick up on your sadness, he just sees your smile that begins to fade as you pick him. When his eyes drift to the tall man getting closer to you though, that exhaustion that threatened to take him to sleep completely disappears. Instead, his face brightens the moment he sees Aemond, the father he’s longed to see since he left home.

Yet before Aemond can take Aerion in his arms, you halt your attempts to hand your child over when you catch the elegant silver armor of the Kingsguard gleaming against the candlelight as they approach from the far left end of the throne room. Only these Kingsguard members aren’t the ones from before, they’re new, younger, and probably stupider considering they’re Aegon’s drinking buddies.

You would want nothing more than to share a judgemental look with Aemond, but now that he’s closer you can’t even have your face turned his way; which is why you get the perfect view of the Usurper, the false King Aegon, trudging in after his dimwitted Kingsguard with his clothes unbuttoned, his hair unsettled, and his eyes red with exhaustion or something else you don't recognize. Either way, he doesn’t look Kingly, not even when he’s caught off guard, but you’ll give him the benefit of the doubt only because it’s the middle of the night—Unless he’s drunk that is…

“Your Grace,” you utter words that once brought you pride to say to your mother, but now bring you disgust to say to him. Even the thought of bending your knee is a struggle to think about, but you know that you won’t get far without showing the respect he wants to see, so you force yourself down to your knee to someone so undeserving.

Luckily he doesn’t sense that disgust, you mask your emotions well behind your sorrowful face set to hopefully gain their sympathy while you try to enchant them with your plea for mercy.

“So it is true,” Aegon breaks his silence while he slowly approaches you behind his Kingsguard, as if cautious that you would try anything with Aerion still in your arms. “You are here.” He scoffs and you catch a hint of amusement, but you’re left with nothing to do in the regard but pretend.

“I come to renounce the false Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” you swallow your pride and leave no pauses, even if you can feel yourself straining as it feels like you’re hurting your mother with such cruel words. “I come to pledge fealty to ward the King, as well as ask for his forgiveness.”

You pause and bow your head so he can feel pride and superior over your current state which is something you never once let him feel with you. Not until now.

“I come to beg for mercy and a second chance,” you go on and don’t stop even if you hear the main doors opening before two pairs of footsteps filter in to join the audience already gathered around you and your handmaiden; as if you were a spectacle to gawk over.

However, in many ways you are, who would’ve thought that Rhaenyra’s own daughter would leave her precious mother's side to join the enemy?

It was expected of you since your husband is part of the green faction, but Rhaenyra is still your mother, and you have had chances to leave her side already but you haven’t until now. Why?

That’s on everyone’s mind but yours, that’s why they watch you carefully and never let Aegon get too close.

“I saw my wrongdoings,” you continue to sing your plea with a soft and sweet voice. “I saw my mistake in trusting Rhaenyra. I cannot stand behind her, I cannot support her after what,” you swallow thickly and look up to meet Aegon’s surprised gaze. “…she did to Helaena and Jaehaerys.”

Aegon’s eyes harden and every form of amusement he had upon seeing you on one knee is lost and replaced by slow-burning anger that is so rare to see on him. Yet it does nothing to actually scare you.

“I'm sorry. Please forgive me, My King.”

Someone falls by your left side where Aemond stands as well, but you don't see who it is because you’re too focused on Aegon parting away from the safety of his Kingsguard to approach you with that same hardened gaze seething with anger.

“To your feet Sweet good-sister,” he rolls out as he also motions you up with his fingers.

You hesitate, but slowly push yourself to your feet, causing Aerion to squirm as sees his father again.

Aegon sees and his lips twitch before he smugly barks an order without letting you out of his sight. “Take the child.”

Your eyes widen and that sorrow you expressed turns to panic. “No!” You cry out and press Aerion against you to protect him from the reaching hands whilst you desperately look over at Aemond with no regard to your previous feelings that were just tormenting you and forbidding you from looking at him.

“He has no fault in this Aegon,” Aemond interjects right away, making you notice Ser Criston is the one by him since he moves in between Aemond when his sword hand twitches.

“Aegon,” you hear the Dowager Queen Alicent interject, giving away the fact that she was the second person who had walked in late.

You had wondered where she was, you’re sure she would’ve been told you were here right away. You suspected she would already be here waiting for you, but she came late.

“What?” Aegon chuckles and raises his hands. “I mean no harm to my nephew. He’s my brother's son. He’s just in the way.” He quips and makes sure to look at you with a new sense of smugness now that he has you rattled.

“No,” you remain defiant and glare at his Kingsguard slowly approaching you while also glancing over at Aemond seething and glaring daggers from the side—“I will not let them touch him. Not them.”

His Kingsguard stop as if they were listening to you and look over at Aegon in confusion as to what to do next. Especially because Aemond still stands there menacingly.

“I will take him,” Alicent volunteers instead of Aemond. “Give him to me,” she tells you and approaches you with her hands out.

You may not like her, but one thing is certain; whatever hatred she has for your mother is never redirected at Aerion, she seems to love him just as much as she loves Helaena’s children. And Aerion does love her too since he is more accustomed to her presence. It’s why after one kiss on your son's head you hand him to Alicent, and motion Vanessa with your eyes to stand by her.

“I never would have expected you of all people to return,” Aegon interjects, making you drift your gaze away from Aerion completely taken by his other grandmother, and refocus your attention on the man before you.

“Yet here you are begging for mercy.” He feigns a smile that falls quickly. “Why should I believe you?” His voice grows cold which contrasts his burning glare.

“Why…” he trails off and smiles tauntingly at the ground before he suddenly lunges at you and grabs you by the throat, but not tight enough for you to actually gasp for air. His grip is just wrapped around your throat.

Not like it matters to Aemond either way because he still reacts in the blink of an eye by trying to lunge at his brother. Albeit he gets stopped right away by Ser Criston; proving to you at that moment why Aemond hadn’t taken Aerion just now, he was more concerned about you and what Aegon had up his sleeve. And he has every right to worry because Aegon is daring now that he’s king, now that he has control and no one to really tell him to stop. He pulls out the Valyrian dagger that your grandfather Viserys would carry, and slowly brings the tip to your throat, making you fear him for the first time. Not because he’s terrifying, but because no one has threatened your life before.

“…shouldn’t I pluck your eyes out and send them to Rhaenyra?” He finishes what he was winding up to say. “Along with your head. Firstborn for firstborn, hm? That would be justice.”

Aegon is careful not to puncture your skin as he drags the tip of the dagger up your face, as if teasing you instead of threatening you.

“She killed my son, why shouldn’t I send her your head?” He sneers as he watches the way he moves the dagger up your cheek. “Unless it was you who sent them.”

The tip of the dagger is pressed against you so you're careful not to shake your head, even if you want to further get your defense across.

“No,” you immediately deny him even if you shouldn’t, you should stay quiet, but you can’t just stand quietly as he wounds you by throwing false accusations of something you would never do. “I would never hurt Helaena,” your voice quivers. “I-I love her. I would never hurt her. I would never hurt anyone’s child, I’m not a monster. I would never do that.”

Tears fall down your cheeks but Aegon wipes them away as he keeps moving the dagger up to bring the tip inches away from your eye, causing Aemond to groan and push back against Ser Criston’s arm.

“Let me talk to her,” Aemond interjects as Ser Criston digs his feet into the ground and fights back the prince's push forward. “I will talk to her Aegon.”

Said man scoffs and shakes his head. “No. Gods no. You’re too enamored by her,” he says and laughs. “She would just bat her eyes and you would let her go. You have always been too sweet on her. No. I will continue talking to her. If she behaves she will not get sent back to her mother. Do you understand?” He directs at you now and shifts his hand holding the dagger, causing the candlelight in the distance to reflect on the smooth metal, and entrapping your attention to the gleam before your focus gets entranced by the fires lit in the metal stands.

It’s just an arm's reach away, you can grab it and tilt it on him. Your hand wouldn’t burn, but he would. He would stop touching you and not be so close. It can work.

But the war wouldn’t end and you would only die or be locked away for certain. You can’t do it, you won’t. Thus you look back at his stupid smug face.

“I will spare your son's life because he’s my nephew, but you,” he presses and brings the knife back down to your throat. “You’re just another bitch—”

You clench your jaw, and Aemond grimaces, making Aegon’s smirk deepen.

“My brother would not do better, but there are plenty of bitches to choose from,” he remarks and starts to rub his thumb on your neck, making you stiffen and start to actually, deeply feel horror.

“Stop,” you plead quietly but loud enough that Aemond can hear. “Stop it.”

Aemond pushes back harder as he hears you, but Ser Criston still manages to hold his ground.

“Why should I not kill you now?” Aegon asks. “You’ve been parading about the Kingdom asking for other Lords' loyalty for your mother. You bent the knee to her. You have no real sense of loyalty.”

“I was wrong,” you repeat yourself. “I was blinded by my love for her, but I am not now. I see clearly now. You are the true King. I see that now. Besides, how could I stay over there with Daemon wanting to kill Aerion for what happened?” You throw out a lie so they’ll be more willing to believe what you're trying to sell. And you actually get Aegon to hum, but as he keeps making you uncomfortable by caressing your neck.

“You do have a dragon,” he gets a point across. “But would you really attack your family?”

“My grandfather,” you blurt in hopes that will get him to stop his threat and stop what he’s currently doing. “My grandfather is going to make Aerion heir of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides, but those efforts will be for naught if you kill me.”

Aegon glances at his side before slowly pulling the dagger away from your throat.

“If you kill him Aerion would be the next lord of Driftmark, which means that we could give you control of the fleet,” you add, making Aegon stand still for a moment as he takes in what you just said.

“We need that fleet, my King,” Aemond jumps into your defense. “With Aerion being so young we would be in charge until he becomes of age.”

Aegon nods slowly in comprehension but he then tilts his head and clicks his tongue. “But killing Lord Corlys will take time. If it happens at all.”

“I will fight for you,” you roll out as enticingly as you can to try and enchant him with your voice. “Let me fight for you, for my family. I want to come home.”

Aegon sighs deeply and stares deep into your soul without looking for help from anyone. And you look at him and lift your chin slightly to exude confidence you don’t feel at the moment.

Not like Aegon actually notices how shaken and fearful you currently are, or else he would pick on that and really make you feel small. He only sees what you want him to see, it’s why your song works on him and all the others.

“Fine,” he breathes out and finally lets you go, making you fall on your knees out of defeat as to what he was doing, and letting Ser Criston let Aemond go.

“You may return home. You will not join any of my councils obviously, and your dragon will be put in the dragon pit. If you step a hair out of line I will have you killed and sent to your mother.” Aegon clarifies.

Astraea is the way you’ll get your messages across but getting her out will be no problem, and you didn’t expect to be welcomed at the council anyway. The plan was always going to be you using those tunnels your mother used to use. Aemond is the only one you’ll actually disdain.

“You should know,” you mutter to get the last word in, which is bold, to say the least, but you can’t stay quiet after he was touching in that way. “Ser Arryk was killed by Ser Erryk because he was doing his job by protecting the royal family. That’s how I escaped…” you trail off and slowly lift your head to look at Ser Criston with a smugness playing in your eyes.

The Kingsguard briefly meets your gaze before he turns his head away without inputting anything. No one actually says anything in the regard.

Aemond then proceeds to approach you and offer you his hand, but you just glare at him before you turn away and help yourself up to go to Aerion.

“Thank you,” you offer Alicent you’re genuine gratitude before you take back your son.

“Of course,” she says. “I’m glad you’re both back home.”

You offer her a fake faint smile before you turn away and walk back to Aemond to hand him Aerion, who is immediately over the moon by finally being carried by his father. You cannot say the same, you actually make sure to turn away quickly so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. Instead, you address the commander who had greeted you outside to avoid a silence.

“Ser, if you would be so kind as to round up your best men tomorrow at the training yards after breaking fast. My son and I need a sworn protector with this war so rampant. If I depend on the new Kingsguard I’ll find my son sold for a flagon of wine or a pretty whore,” you say without shame and watch the knight snicker and glance over at the men you were so boldly speaking of before he looks back at you and responds with a comprehensive nod, letting you not take a second longer to finally try and leave the damn hall and these people. Yet not before you wipe that smile off the commander's face

“Oh and give the list of names of that squadron to Prince Aemond, he would like to know who the men were that shot at my dragon and our child as we were waving that white flag.” You finish and peer back with a serious look that actually turns out to be menacing.

Once you’re out of the hall, you would have liked to say you could catch your breath and find any sense of satisfaction, but the tension is quick to follow you out.

“Vanessa,” you interject after a while of striding toward the royal apartments. “Just grab a change for tonight and tomorrow morning. We can get anything else we need tomorrow.”

Aemond hears your commands and looks away from Aerion to watch you instead.

“And don’t worry about a cradle, Aerion can sleep on my bed tonight,” you continue to give orders, piquing Aemond’s attention even more, and making him forget that child so fascinated by him.

“What are you doing?” Aemond asks, but you ignore him even if you feel ticked off.

“My old chambers are available, we will both stay there. I won’t put Aerion in danger.”

You know deep down Daemon won’t try and hurt your child unless he means to hurt your mother in the meanwhile, but your hatred for him blinds you and makes you see him as a threat even though there’s no real need for such hostility.

“Yes, Princess—”

“No,” Aemond cuts Vanessa off bluntly. “You will not move the Princess or Aerion’s things anywhere. They will not be moving anywhere. They will stay where we are.”

You clench your jaw but continue to ignore his grating presence, as well as Vanessa’s brewing confusion—“Don’t worry about protection, the night will be short tonight because of how late it already is. We will hopefully have that situated by tomorrow—”

“Are you listening to me?” Aemond blurts and catches you off guard when he grabs your wrist and pulls you to a sudden halt so you can face his pointed glare.

Yet you don’t give him the satisfaction of being submissive, or looking away and walking off. Nor do you actually give him what he wants, at that moment you remember that you have to hold back for the sake of your purpose and your Queen. There’s things you want to remark and throw at him as he ruffles your anger, as you look him in the eye and stand so close, but you need to hold back, it has to be helped even if a cascade of memories follows, and have you challenging his glare for a moment before you rip your eyes away and look at your son in his arms to remind him he’s here witnessing it all.

“Vanessa take Aerion for a stroll so he can fall asleep,” Aemond interjects as he holds your gaze. “It’s past his bedtime. We can spend more time with each other on the morrow.”

Vanessa glances at you for the okay, but you don’t look back at her, you keep your eyes on Aemond even if your heartbeat picks up under his heavy gaze, letting her come to the conclusion herself and take Aerion from Aemond.

The boy does begin to whine after being parted from his father, but you don’t stop her either, knowing that there will be tension you don’t want him to see.

“I am not going to stay in the same room as you,” you make yourself clear and pull your arm away to start storming to your shared quarters.

“Do you think I am going to leave you and Aerion vulnerable and all alone?” Aemond counters, making you scoff.

“Does it really matter what happens to me?” You spat back in regards to who he killed, but he chooses to ignore that.

“Of course, it matters. You know that.”

You shake your head in disbelief and continue on quietly, letting him fill the silence for you. “You will stay where you are. It’s where you belong.”

You continue to stay quiet all the way to your shared chambers, which is unlike you, he wants to hear you argue as if that will help cure the strain made by the murder, but you stay quiet and don’t even fill the air with anything when you’re in your room. You just go and try to grab something to sleep in, but he immediately stops you by grabbing your robe and throwing it aside.

“I said no,” he hisses, but you reach for another, making him grab what you pick up and pull back.

“Let go, Aemond, I am not staying here. I am not going to sleep with you!” You bark back and grab his wrist to yank it away, but he rebuttals by grabbing your hand and overpowering you with ease.

“You are staying, and Aerion is staying here where I can protect him and you,” he makes it clear to you, letting you realize as you try to avoid looking at him that Aerion’s cradle is placed at the end of the bed instead of being in his own quarters.

“I do not need you to protect me,” you counter and let go of the robe to try and reach for another, but he crouches down and grabs your arm right where Daemon had grabbed you, and pulls you up.

“Let me go,” you fight him and ignore the ache in your arms as he presses on your bruises. “Don't touch me. Let me go, you're hurting me.”

As soon as Aemond hears those words his grip eases, letting you rebuttal by pushing him away. “Leave,” you cry out and can’t find the strength to hold back anymore, you forget the role you’re meant to play, your purpose for returning, and let your anger burst out from its confinement, resulting in you shoving him back.

“If you don’t want me to leave then you leave. Go. Get out!” You exclaim.

Aemond lets himself get pushed back again and only makes you grow more aggravated that he refuses matching your anger. “I do not want to see you. I do not want you to touch me. I do not…” you trail off and push him back toward a shelf. “I do not want you here. Get. Out.” You innouncate through gritted teeth, but Aemond doesn’t get the hint, he doesn’t care about the anger behind every shove, or the disdain behind every single word.

“He’s gone because of you. My brother is gone!” You finally express what has been stuck in the back of your throat, what really fuels your anger. You finally share the betrayal that you have harbored and that has played in your eyes since you first saw him in that throne room. “Get out!” You raise your voice and shove him back against a wall, but get no reaction in any way. He lets it happen, he watches your anger, and he lets you express it even if it brings violence.

“Get out!” You cry again and hit his chest, hoping he will move, that he will finally stop infuriating you more and react by at least stopping you, but he doesn’t fight back, like usual.

“Out! Out! Get out, Aemond!” You start to lose your cool and hit him more and more, each time your fists getting backed with more strength, while your chest gets heavy, and your eyes finally start to fill with tears as the sorrow you held back breaks out and starts to accompany your anger.

“Fight me back! Fight back you fucking killer. Fight me back!” You shout shakily. “You killed him. You killed Luke. You took my brother away from me. You…” you come to a stop and can’t yell anymore, your throat stings, and your chest starts to ache to the point it gets hard to breathe really fast. “You…”

Aemond watches you move your hands back to go and hit him again, but this time before you can make contact with his chest, he grabs your wrists and pushes you back, making you hold his gaze as he does so and not let go, even if his gaze his heavy and burns in you, even if he pulls you back to him with ease and causes a warmth to wash over you as he holds you close.

“Let me go,” you try not to mewl, but you can’t help it anymore. You can’t hold that anger over your agony. “Let me,” you groan.

Aemond parts his lips but doesn’t end up saying anything, instead he only attracts your eyes to his lips with this need that comes from deep down. You do manage to drag your eyes up after a second but find his gaze heavy and focused on your parted mouth before he lolls his head to the side, and slowly meets your tear-filled eyes.

You proceed to flicker your eyes down and he leans forward, expecting you to pull away, but you stay put as if magnetized to him. As if a slave to your need dwelling deep inside where you don’t want it to be.

“Aemond,” you whisper and his blue eyes find yours, letting you see how dilated his pupils are, but also how soft his eyes are with…distress you can read with ease.

“Why?” You ask in the intimacy of the moment where it’s just you and him, your husband, your lover, and your best friend. “Why did you do it?”

Aemond's eye falls and his lips slowly form a frown. You want to see what he feels, what he fails to say so you tilt your head down to look into his eye and get your answer, but he turns his head away and mutters. “Why did you come back if you hate me?”

“I…” you don’t finish, but you softly shake your head just enough that he notices the motion and peeks over at you.

You need to say it. You need to say what you’ve felt when you were away. He killed Lucerys, your beloved little brother. He hurt your mother and your brother. He betrayed you in the worst way possible. But those feelings you had thought of only sprung up because you weren’t looking at him. It was easy to think you hated him, but now that you’re looking at him, now that you feel his breath unfurl over your lips, and feel his heartbeat under your palm as you press your hand against his chest, you can’t muster a syllable, or conjure it in your heart. No matter how hard you try.

“I did not come for you,” is all you can muster. “I came for Helaena. Not for you.”

And deep under your conflict and your mission that is true. You did come for her in her worst moments where she needs what her family can never give her.

“Hm,” Aemond hums and welcomes a coldness to your wrists as he finally lets you go.

“You did not answer me,” you bring up your previous question. “Why did you do it? He was sent as a messenger, not a warrior. He was just supposed to deliver a message and get an answer, that's all, so why? Did he do something? Did he say something?”

Aemond swallows thickly and his gaze gets hard before he deadpans. “You and Aerion are staying here. I will lock you in here if I have to. Do not make it hard.”

His gaze lingers on you for a second longer before he slips away even if he knows you are waiting for an answer. Just a simple one if need be, something to give you peace of mind, but he goes to the door looking like he isn’t going to stop until you fall on your knees the moment you can’t hold strong anymore. Everything you felt collapses over you and you break down.

Aemond hears your sobs, it unsettles him, and tugs at his heart, but even if you’re the only one who can ever cause such an effect, he doesn’t go to your side even if at that moment you wouldn’t have pushed him away. He lets out a deep breath and leaves you alone.

He doesn’t return until hours later just moments before the sun could break into the sky, finding Aerion fast asleep in his cradle, and you balled up on your side of the bed. He thinks you're asleep, but you couldn’t find it, so you heard him walk in quietly.

You hear him take his belt off, and pull his boots off to be able to approach the end of the bed without alerting the sleeping babe, going unaware at that moment of you peeling one eye open to watch him caress Aerion’s cheek ever so gently as to not wake him before he smiles faintly, causing your own heart to involuntarily pick up in its speed before it jolts when he steps back.

As to not get caught you immediately shut your eye and listen, catching his footsteps go around the bed and approach you.

At first, you think he’s going somewhere else, but his scent then intoxicates you as he stops beside you, causing your racing heart to ease as if his scent was the only key to calm down. He proceeds to stare and you know that you feel that deep down, you feel his eye on your face before it leaves a burning trail down the upper half of your body.

When it comes to your exposed arms that you can’t hide anymore, he hooks his finger on the blanket and gently pulls it down before he runs the tip of his finger on the bruise marked on your flesh, and keeps it there as if the touch alone will give him the answer as to what happened.

After a moment he groans with what seems to be frustration before he lifts his fingers and suddenly surprises you by caressing your cheek before he brings his face down, letting his long silver hair tickle your shoulder, while his breath unfurls over your cheek.

You try not to hold your breath or move, but he makes it hard as he lets the warmth of his lips mingle over your cheek.

Is he going to kiss you or not?

Yes?

No?!

You wait and wait until he suddenly pulls back and his footsteps recede, letting you open your eye to catch him walking around the bed as he takes his vest off, showing how his back muscles move fluidly with him. And thanks to the light starting to peek in you can see how smooth and sculpted he looks under such a soft light.

You want to see his face, his torso, and those perfect abs, but you close your eyes and remember what he’s done, and once again you’re cast with…sorrow.

——

*LATER*

Stupid ache…

“Vanessa, could you have tea prepared for breakfast? I woke up with all different kinds of aches,” you grumble and slip on your shoes. “My head is aching, and I feel a bit nauseous.”

Vanessa hooks the last jeweled chain on your back to the golden broach on the shoulder part of your deep blue gown, and then slowly peeks out from the side with her eyes filled with curiosity. “Princess I have been meaning to ask. When you were in Winterfell…”

Oh is she trying to get the gossip? With everything that went on after you returned from the North, you never had time to tell her what happened.

“Did you…”

Before she can finish what she was building up to the door opens and Aemond walks in with Aerion, making Vanessa groan because once again she was left to hold in her question.

“I will prepare the tea for you princess, but perhaps you should see the maester?” Vanessa purposely says at the wrong time, causing Aemond to peek over—“You did not eat your dinner yesterday because of your stomach ache.”

You side-eye Vanessa, but she doesn’t care that she just blurted your troubles for Aemond to hear, she slides behind you to fix the jeweled chains on your back.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond interjects in your silence.

You drop your eyes to avoid looking at him in the mirror and with your fingers trace the gold design that swirls with the wave patterns on your blue gown.

“Nothing,” you deadpan.

Aemond stays quiet for a second before you hear his footsteps approach you. “I saw bruises on your arms,” he doesn’t hold back from bringing up. “What happened?”

He will ask Vanessa, and she will tell him, so you just answer him in the most serious voice so he knows that his presence bothers you. “Daemon happened. He wanted me to leave and he was not kind about it.”

There's a second of silence before you hear a deep and frustrated sigh. You dare yourself to look up and catch Aemond’s gaze on your arm before he blinks and tries to meet your gaze, but comes up empty-handed when you look at Aerion instead.

“<Did you have a good time, my little dragon?> You speak to him in High Valyrian and watch him wave his hands excitedly.

“My grandmother says he could start eating solids when he’s 5 months old,” you direct at Vanessa, making her step away and nod with a happy smile.

“Yes, it’s possible, he’s starting to sit up alone, so he’s almost there.”

You grin at your child and caress his chin. “<Hear that? We will get you nice and plump in no time. As of now…” you trail off and take him from Aemond to walk away from the mirror. “How would you like to go with Aunt Helaena and your cousin Jaehaera, hm?>”

Aerion responds by reaching for your dangling earrings, so you lean your head away and shake your head, only getting him more intrigued.

“I’m heading to a council meeting,” Aemond says as you continue avoiding him. “I will talk to the maester to come see you later.”

“I can seek the maester myself,” you quip and scrunch your nose at Aerion to try and make him smile.

Aemond stays still and quiet before he walks away. When he reaches the door you peek over and see him stop again before he turns his head, but not completely. He just stands there for a moment with his gaze in the corner of his eye before he just walks out of the room.

“I do not know how I will do it,” you mumble to Vanessa the moment the door closes and he’s walking away. “I can not…pretend to be okay with him. I know I must try, but…I see…what my mind thinks what happened that day, and I get angry and sad.”

Vanessa walks to you to take Aerion and face you with a pitiful frown. “It will be hard, but you will not get anywhere if you do not try. Just take it step by step.”

You sigh deeply and nod softly. “I will leave now too to listen in to the meeting,” you change the subject. “I should make it back for breakfast with Helaena, I should not take long. That’s not my intention anyway.”

“Be careful,” your handmaiden warns you. “Try and remember your way back. Good luck.”

You giggle and pat her shoulder. “I will be alright. I do wish my cat was here though. He would make it easier to make my way around. If anyone asks for me just tell them I went for a stroll to catch my breath.”

Vanessa nods hesitantly and seems to want to input another warning, but she just bites her tongue and watches you walk out the secret door hidden in your quarters

At first, you admit you feel a bit turned around, all the damn tunnels are built almost identically. Plus there’s only the torch that you light as a form of light until you reach small windows, but those aren’t everywhere. Luckily though, you manage to remember where the council hall is. You do arrive a bit later than you hoped, but you got there all the same.

And it seems Ser Criston just arrived too, going off his greeting.

“Forgive my lateness,” you catch Ser Criston interject as he seems to sit down.

“Important business, no doubt,” you cringe at Aegon’s grating voice.

“You appointed new knights to the Kingsguard, Your Grace?”

Ser Criston is barely asking that? They were with the King last night.

Some commander he is.

“To replace those we lost,” Aegon remarks.

“The last one needlessly, some might say,” a man comments quietly but full of judgment. You can’t say you can place a face or a name to the voice though.

“Ser Arryk was awarded the great duty of ending Rhaenyra’s challenge,” Ser Criston argues pointlessly. “He failed to discharge it.”

At least he recognizes that error.

“He failed because the scheme was rash,” you hear the Dowager Queen interject before getting countered by the Commander of the Kingsguard.

“Perhaps, Your Grace but we cannot all hide in our castles waiting for war to come to us.”

You have to admit that it is true, but that does not excuse the stupid act they sent Ser Arryk to do. The Kingsguard protecting your mother aren’t bad at their jobs like he is.

“As now it surely will,” Alicent quips.

“As, now,” Aemond interrupts the bickering, managing to catch your breath in your throat at the mere sound of his voice. “It already has. House Bracken took it upon themselves to attack the Blackwoods who declared for the pretender. Lord Samwell Blackwood himself is slain.”

“Good,” Aegon says. “First blood in our name.”

Ugh, idiot.

“Both sides took heavy losses, Your Grace,” you recognize Ser Tyland made a point the King failed to see. “I-I’m not entirely certain we can declare this victory—”

“The Blackwoods and the Brackens had feuded for centuries. This is nothing more than an excuse for them to indulge their ancient grudge. It’s no true war.”

A sudden pound against the table shuts the speaking Lord up and makes you press yourself closer to the wall.

“Call it what you will,” Aegon follows by saying, making him the one who pounded whatever it was on the table's surface. “I call it war. And so will Dragonstone. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

What is there to do? It was a stupid squabble between feuding families. There’s no significant point behind that bloodbath.

“We send a raven to Lord Tully,” you hear the maester come up with a solution amongst the other heads around the table. “These houses are his vassals, are they not? He must control them.”

“Lord Grover Tully is a flaccid, old fool who couldn’t control his cock in a cunny,” the Lord you don’t recognize cuts in with a hint of judgment. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace.”

“Do you have any better suggestions, Lord Jasper?” Aegon asks and once and for all brings a name and face to the voice.

“Your Lord Uncle Ormund marches from Old Town at the head of a great host, Your Grace,” the Lord rebuttals. “And your brother Daeron’s dragon nears fighting age. Call on them to suppress the Riverlands.”

Yes with Caraxes and Daemon going to the Riverlands? Tessarion would get ripped to shreds, he’s no more experienced than your dragon.

“At least they are months away,” Ser Tyland interjects. “My Lord brother Jason is raising a great army at Casterly Rock. In a matter of weeks, he will be able to harass the Blackwoods from the west—”

“Should we not aim to unite these armies?” You’re surprised to hear the maester give his opinion. “And then strike as one?”

He has a point. One big army is better than small ones.

“Ah,” Ser Tyland interrupts as he laughs mockingly. “The great military mind of the Citadel. Do remind me—”

Oh gods can this get any more childish?

Here instead of questioning the ruler they bicker with each other.

“This council must rediscover the discipline it lately had if its to be of any use,” Alicent thankfully shuts them up.

“The Riverlands are the key to the war,” Ser Criston moves the meeting forward over his rattling armor. “Harrenhal is the key to the Riverlands. I will ride out with those I can muster here. Men I know, men I’ve trained.”

Your interest finally piques and you push yourself off the wall to lean your ear close to the gaps on the wall that look in the council room.

“You need time to raise the numbers to challenge the Rivermen,” Alicent makes a smart point, but Ser Criston doesn’t seem to see it that way.

“Speed is my ally. I will turn the Crownland houses who declared for Rhaenyra to our cause. We will add their numbers to our own then turn west. Where I will enlist the Brackens, subdue the Riverlands, and take Harrenhal.”

Well, that’s a mighty goal. Smart yet a bit far-fetched.

“So impatient to ride with so few men,” Alicent says. “So like to be destroyed by the first stronghold you meet. A bold scheme indeed.”

Yes, especially because Daemon is also currently going to take the Riverlands as well.

“Well, the gods favor the bold,” Ser Criston quips a stupid comment that Alicent thankfully strikes down.

“They did not favor Ser Arryk.”

Ser Criston chuckles before he turns to get the favor from a war-thirsty mongrel. “What say you, my King?”

“And you’ll take Aemond and Vhagar?” Aegon asks, making you hold your breath out of anticipation as to what the response will be.

“Vhagar will remain here,” Ser Criston immediately lets you breathe, and doesn’t let the running thoughts that were building up, rush out and make a mess in your mind—“to defend the city.”

“Good. To war then,” Aegon exclaims, making Ser Criston hum in agreement and get the approval he was seeking for from the king.

“I’ll come, too, with Sunfyre,” Aegon continues making your lips twitch.

“Aegon,” Alicent calls out in protest.

“Your Grace.”

“You’ll need a dragon,” Aegon quickly throws out, making Ser Criston argue back.

“My plan is not to draw attention.”

“And-and what will you do if you encounter one or more of Rhaenyra’s dragons?” Aegon asks and you can’t help but answer in your mind that he’ll hopefully die.

“She’ll want to answer for Ser Arryk,” Aegon adds.

“We will be more like to encounter one if we field one of our own,” Ser Criston tries to make it clear to Aegon.

“That is precisely why you must remain, brother,” Aemond says calmly which actually surprises you. You would’ve thought he would volunteer to fight with Vhagar. “It’s a brave thought, but we cannot risk your loss.”

You smile in amusement at his words obviously not laced with genuine care.

“I’m as fearsome as any of them,” Aegon argues, making you stifle your laugh during the short and awkward silence that follows.

“We must also raise the matter on…” Lord Jasper interjects hesitantly after. “The Princess’s arrival. It is ominous, to say the least, and suspicious considering how much Rhaenyra coddles her children. We must press her for what she knows. If it’s true that she has switched loyalties—”

“No,” Aemond counters, making your heart skip a beat. “You will not do such a thing. I will talk to my wife.”

“We have already discussed all the matters with the princess herself,” Alicent interjects. “Her dragon will be put in the dragonpit, and we will keep a watchful eye on her.”

No tongues rise on the matter because no one wants to face Aemond’s wrath because he, unlike Aegon, has proven himself to be fearsome.

Nevertheless, you use this as your cue to leave and return to your quarters before you can be caught, finding it a much easier venture back than when you came. You surely do relieve Vanessa of any stress she harbored as she dramatically over-worried herself that you would get yourself lost.

“We should head out now,” you don’t take a moment to catch your breath or write the first letter to your mother about what you just heard.

“Is everything all right?” Vanessa queries.

You take Aerion from her and nod. “Things are as good as they will be at the moment. I need to send a letter to my mother to let her know what Ser Criston is going to do. Hopefully, Aemond is not clinging today.”

“We can always find a way to part from him,” Vanessa looks at the bright side. “It does not seem like he will be around much with this war needing constant attention.”

You scoff as you walk out of your room. “You would be surprised,” you mutter in return.

The moment you are out of your room and head to Helaena’s new chambers, you feel a sense of nervousness knot your already nauseous stomach, and rush through your veins to the point your hands begin to tremble at the thought of facing Helaena; seeing her grief, and seeing her pair of twins be left to one child.

It was not so long ago when you would both escape to your little Island with your dragons and her children. Now those are tainted memories of what she doesn’t have anymore.

What if she thinks you betrayed her and hates you for it?

You would understand, you would obviously try and explain that it wasn’t you so she knows she’s not alone in her grief, that she has you in the same way she has had you for the past year, but ultimately you would not blame her. It was Daemon, your family, your infamous side who killed her child.

Yet no matter how much your thoughts pester you, or how much you want to turn tail and return to your quarters, you’re more daring when it comes to her. You do hesitate a moment as you stand outside of her door with Aerion in your arms, but after beating down what’s making you hesitate, you knock and let your presence know.

Silence passes for a few minutes making you think you came too late, but then a few seconds later the door is opened by one of her ladies-in-waiting, leaving a clear view of her to you, and you to her.

“Good morning,” you greet softly as you walk in, seeing her put down what she’s sewing before she slowly meets your gaze with puffy eyes, but no tears brimming within. Her grief is clearly painted but it does not seem to bring her down like you thought it would. Still, you don’t feel any less guilty or sorry.

“Good morning,” she greets in return and then finds your son in your arms. “Good morning to you Aerion.”

The baby watches her before his eyes dart to Jaehaera and he becomes instantly infatuated with the little girl, so much so that he throws himself back against you out of glee.

“Someone’s happy to see you,” you direct at Jaehaera approaching you.

“Me?” She points at her chest and then flashes a grin that grows wider when you crouch so Aerion can be at her level.

“Hello Aerion,” she tells the baby and gently grabs his hand, making the baby firmly grab onto her.

“I missed you,” she tells him and shakes his little fist, making him slowly try and bring her hand to his mouth.

“He’s strong,” she comments with a giggle before she pulls her hand away and looks at you. “Can I play with him?”

“He’s a babe,” Helaena points out to her daughter, making her sigh.

“Well,” you try to console her. “He can sit with you and he can happily watch you play while he plays with some of toys of his own. You have to wait until he’s older so he can play with you.”

Jaehaera frowns, but she doesn’t argue. “All right then.”

You flash her a smile and stand to your given height to give Aerion to one of the wetnurses, so they can take the children to a different corner of the room while you talk to Helaena before your breakfast gets here.

“I planned to have breakfast a bit unexpectedly, I hope that’s all right,” you direct at Helaena who is watching her daughter for a moment before her eyes drift back to you.

“There’s no problem,” she assures you, making you nod gently before you grab your hands and fiddle with your fingers as you carefully think of what to say.

“Helaena,” you whisper, making her hum to probe innocently.

Before you can continue you briefly glance at her sitting on a couch before you go and sit next to her, making her turn to face you as you continue to struggle with how to tell her everything you feel in the bottom of your heart.

“I…I’m sorry,” you say what you have already told so many people, yet it’s not something you will get tired of saying because you can’t help or ignore your guilt, nor does this grief end. It keeps coming and coming.

“I’m sorry for what happened to Jaehaerys,” your voice quivers, and tears, the one thing you are tired of, well in your eyes, making them sting. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

Helaena’s eyes fall on her hands, and her lips fall to a small frown that only tears at your wounded heart even more.

“I know it must be hard, but I cannot be here and not come tell you that I am deeply sorry,” you continue as she stays quiet, and slowly reach for her hand. You know she’s not fond of intimacy, but you don’t overstep, you just drop your hand on hers, and she doesn’t move it away at that moment. Her hands stiffen but she lets you hold her hand.

“You and your children did not deserve that, he did not deserve that. I’m sorry,” you add softly, making her trail her eyes up to meet yours.

“But it is not your fault,” she says and surprises you. “You did not do it. Why are you sorry?”

You part your lips but can’t muster a thing, instead, you drop your head and lick the salty tears that roll down your cheeks and fall on your lips.

“Because it was not fair,” you bring up what you feel. “Because…it was a cruel thing to do, and agonizing to go through. Because…I know who sent those killers to you.”

A silence follows where Helaena slips her hand over yours and carefully wraps your hand with hers, making you blink repeatedly in disbelief before you meet her gaze with that same emotion in your eyes.

“It was still not your fault,” she presses ever so sweetly. “You did not send those killers, nor did you commit the act. I do not blame you, nor do I hate you.”

Your breath catches and a smile slowly tugs on your lips as your tense body eases with the relief that washes over you.

“I’m here for you, you know that? If you need someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you. Always. I love you Helaena.”

She nods softly and offers you the sweetest smile that reminds you of the sweetest spring days. “I know,” she whispers.

You don’t expect her to say it in return, but you know her true feelings with the hand still wrapped around you.

“Why are you here though?” She suddenly blurts.

“I-I,” you pause out of confusion, but give her a clear answer. “I’m here for you.”

Helaena shakes her head and pulls her hand away. “You are not listening, why are you here? You should not have come.”

Your tears dry, and your confusion leaves no trace of the joy you were just beginning to feel

“I see it,” she presses and leans towards you. “A crown on a black veil.” She nods as if that helped you in some way. It only leaves you lost and a bit concerned.

“Okay…” you just give her the satisfaction of an answer to not leave things awkward. ��Breakfast should be—”

And just as you’re going to finish, the doors open and servants with breakfast come in.

“I think Aemond missed you,” Helaena interjects while the breakfast is being placed. “And Aerion. He had his cradle moved after what happened with Jaehaerys.”

“Yes,” you mumble. “So I saw.”

Helaena gets off her seat and you mirror her to follow her to the round table, finding that breakfast looks unappetizing. The food looks good, but the nauseousness you feel is still lingering within you.

“Helaena I was thinking perhaps you could accompany me to select my new sworn protector,” you fill the silence as you take a seat. “I think getting out of your room and taking some air would be nice. Besides, I think a nice stroll in the gardens afterward would be nice, the weather is agreeable.”

Helaena sits beside you rather than in any other empty seat and looks at you before she queries. “What of the new Kingsguard that Aegon appointed? Why don’t you pick one of them?”

You meet her gaze and giggle before you look at the tea you requested getting placed in front of you. “No,” you put it simply. “One, that would be pretty foolish and Aemond would never allow that.”

She hums and the corner of her lips twitches. “I’m sure if Aemond could, he would be stuck to you like a shadow.”

You laugh softly and nod. “He tries.”

“I hope you and him reconcile,” she says. “It’s nice seeing him laugh with you.”

You swallow thickly and answer honestly. “I think it will be hard forgiving him for what he did.”

She hums and says one last thing. “Just do not wait too long, okay?”

Your heart skips a beat and your eyebrows furrow but you offer her a soft smile and nod. “Okay.”

She holds your gaze a second longer before she reaches over to serve herself some food. You try and do the same, but your stomach stops you from really desiring anything.

Helaena notices your reluctance and interjects as she leans toward you. “You should eat, it’s not good for the babes if you do not.”

Your eyes widen and slowly meet her gaze expressing only utter disbelief. “What?” You deadpan.

All Helaena does is offer you a simple smile before she starts eating, leaving you overcome with confusion, even if deep down what she said starts to make sense; Your over-exhaustion, your stomachaches, and headaches.

And it would track, Aemond and you did have sex before you left for Dragonstone, but…Cregan and you…

No…that’s a possibility you do not want to think about, and he’s always careful, and you…did not take Moontea this time, but it can’t be true, him being related is especially not true.

IF what Helaena said was true the babes are Aemond’s. And that’s even if Helaena is telling the truth, sometimes she has the tendency to say things that don’t make sense. Just like this, it's all just a jumble of words.

You will choose to believe that until you talk to someone who can actually prove it. Until then you pay all your focus on your breakfast with Helaena and keep yourself even more busy with choosing your sworn protector already discreetly picked by Daemon of all people.

You did not think he would care that much as to pay someone to keep you and your son safe, but here you are now standing on a balcony over a courtyard, hearing metal sing over the chaos playing all about the castle as men prepare to go to war with Ser Criston.

Usually, men just line up, and someone shares their achievements and a summary of how they became so high ranked and so on, but that all sounded so boring and you have lacked fun so you chose for a not-so-commonly picked choice and had them just demonstrate their skill.

“Perhaps there’s no need for such a show of violence,” Helaena gives her opinion as she stays back in her seat. “Go with the man Aemond wants you to pick.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “No,” you deadpan and cross your arms over the railing to lean your head over and watch as a man with short black curly hair suddenly pulls his cloak off to hurl it at his opponent and blind him.

You grin at his quick thinking and watch this tall, well-built man kick his opponent back while he’s blinded and trying to take the cloak off his face, resulting in the cloak to slip off but a few seconds too late because the intriguing man pulls out a dagger and thrust forward.

Albeit the opponent blocks his attempts with his arm, making you unfold your arms to press your hands on the cold stone and push yourself forward out of excitement.

The man proceeds to use his arm to dismantle his opponent's block by shoving his arm away, before he quickly grabs his arm and spins around him to be able to wrap his other arm around his opponent's neck, and point the tip of his dagger at an artery; with that finishing the last match, and making you beam and clap.

“Well fought!” You exclaim, causing the man to let go of his opponent so they can both face you and bow their heads. “What’s your name Ser?”

The man you called on lifts his head and you meet the most mesmerizing blue eyes that remind you of the bluest sea water.

“Ser Jason Waters, Princess,” he announces, making your grin twitch as you realize that this tall man below is the man Daemon hired for you.

“A bastard from King’s Landing,” the commander beside you whispers in your ear as if that affects his quick thinking or his battle experience—“Go with Ser Aldous from the Crownlands. That’s the man your Lord husband thought capable. He has battle experience, and he is well-honed.”

You scoff and give him the same attitude you just gave Helaena. “I do not care what my Lord Husband wants, and bastard or not that does not affect Ser Jason’s skill. Tell me his triumphs.”

The man hesitates but responds with what you asked for. “He fought at the Stepstones when he was ten-and-six with Prince Daemon until the war ended.”

You look over to flash the man a smile as you hit your palms on the stone. “See, he has battle experience too.” You look back at the man and focus your eyes on the scar that travels from the right corner of his forehead and all across his face to end on the left corner of his jaw.

“Tell me, Ser Jason, how did you get your scar?” You probe with genuine curiosity. “My grandfather Lord Corlys says a scar is always a story. What is your story?”

Ser Jason huffs lightly and glances down with a small smile that carves adorable and deep dimples on his cheeks.

“I,” he clears his throat and bats his lashes before he faces you. “I fought a Dothraki Screamer after I departed from the Stepstones.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly poke him for more with a bit too much excitement. “A Dothraki Screamer? Really?!”

He nods. “He almost took my face but I ended up winning,” he boasts with a shy smile. “Not that I am saying it was easy. It was…it was difficult.”

Your smile widens at his stumble of words before you look at the Commander. “Has Ser Aldous fought a Dothraki screamer and won?”

The commander sighs and argues. “But Prince Aemond—”

“I will make sure Prince Aemond does not take his anger out on you. I made this choice, I am capable of choosing a worthy protector for me and my child,” you interject to assure him, but then Helaena breaks her silence by calling your name before giving her opinion.

“Maybe you should listen to Aemond. I do not think Ser Jason is a wise choice.”

Her eyes snap to the man she can see through the gaps of the railing, and draws in a deep short breath before meeting your gaze and breathing out.

“You worry,” you tell her. “Just like, my Aemond. It’s okay.”

Helaena holds your gaze for a second longer with a very hard and pressuring look before she drops her head and nods stiffly.

“Let me just close this matter up and we can go for our stroll,” you assure her and return your attention to Ser Jason. “I will see you on the Morrow for your first day, Ser Jason. Thank you. And thank you to the rest of you, do not worry I am sure your skill will still be needed, I will make sure to recommend you to good positions.”

The other knights bow their heads to express their gratitude, but you focus on the man in the middle and understand now why Daemon chose him of all people to protect you and Aerion while you’re here in the jaws of the enemy. He’s well-traveled and has been holding a sword since he was a boy.

You have to give Daemon his flowers for this one thing.

“Thank you, Princess,” Ser Jason speaks up with his head raised and a crooked smile on his lips. “You bring me a great honor. I will protect you and yours with my life. I will not let you down. I will guard you even from the shadows that lurk in the night, and the cowards who call themselves men.”

You offer him a faint appreciative smile and as his crooked smile falls to a soft and gentle one, his blue eyes seem to deepen more, bringing this innocent look on his face that slowly pulls your smile down as you’re reminded of your sweet brother, Lucerys.

He would have been Lord if he had lived to be older. He could have had many different dangerous experiences like this man, he could have grown as sweet looking as this man, and held great achievements like this man, but he can’t. He was taken before he could really live a life of his own. Now you’re left just looking at this man below and getting reminded of what can’t flourish because Aemond made sure to kill it.

“Thank you, Ser Jason,” you offer the man softer than before and give him one last smile before you turn to try and leave. However, before you can you catch this certain familiar gleam in his eyes that steals your attention for a lingering second before you rip your eyes away and finally give Helaena all your attention.

“Now my Sweet aunt,” you probe as you hold your hands before you. “Why do you doubt Ser Jason?”

Helaena glances at you with a bit of surprise because you’re asking her for her thoughts that others would have disregarded.

“I just,” she says and turns her head away as she holds her hands. “I have a bad feeling about him.”

You take in what she says and quickly try to reassure her. “It’s normal to doubt people now more than ever, we are at war and tragedy has befallen everyone, but we cannot live our lives paranoid. But I will tell you what, I will be cautious, okay?”

Helaena nods softly and you add a remark. “Plus, the knight Aemond picked was old don’t you think?”

Helaena giggles and nods. “He was.”

“I’m sure it was done on purpose,” you comment on your husband's jealousy.

“You think?” Helaena asks, making you nod with a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“I know so. Now,” you change the subject to something she likes. “Tell me what have you caught as of late?”

Helaena’s shoulders release from their tense hold and her eyes glimmer for the first time. “I caught fireflies the other day by the pond, but I think they’re too beautiful to keep, so I let them go.”

You hum and feed her interests. “They are quite fascinating, they’re like little stars.”

She hums and carefully holds some of your fingers, making your heart happily skip a beat. “Did you know that they flash their lights for different stuff? Like when they’re trying to attract a mate, or deceiving others,” she muses. “And many people mistake them for flies or bugs, but they are beetles in truth.”

You hum. “I did not know that,” you share.

“Well, now you do.”

You giggle and nod. “Yes, I do. Now I think if I could be any insect I think I would be an orchid mantis. They are very beautiful.”

Helaena laughs softly and lolls her head towards you. “You’re funny.” She says, making you smirk.

You end up taking the long way to the gardens and find yourselves walking through the training yard that is flooded with men all preparing to go off to war, but halting the moment they all spot Queen Helaena walking by. All except for one man in bulky silver and green armor; he walks away from his horse with a half-smug smile on his face. And it's only when you get closer that you start to predict who he might be just going off the flaming tower on his chest plate.

“My Queen,” he finally pays his respects and bows his head. “And…” he leaves room for you to introduce yourself, and you do, making his eyes brighten and the smile turn more smug.

“Ah, the Realms Golden Girl, how nice it is to meet you at long last,” he rolls out of his tongue with a sense of cheekiness, but not filled with deceit, more so like he’s trying to seduce you.

But, as charming as he does speak, he can’t reel you in. You smile, but you also glance at Helaena in confusion, yet she doesn’t seem to understand you asking for help, so the man before you bows his head at you before he finally introduces himself; “I am Ser Gwayne Hightower.”

Ah, Alicent’s brother.

“It is an honor to meet you. I have heard a great deal about you,” you just say out of respect but you could care less even if he is a bit handsome for a Hightower.

“Hm,” he hums with a growing smirk. “In all my comings and goings never have I met such an enchanting beauty,” he flatters you and you can’t help but show off a shy smile—“my nephew is a lucky man.”

You scoff softly and he leans closer. “I am going off to battle with the Lord's Hand…”

You scoff at the title given to such an unqualified man and he seems to catch your drift and matches your mocking smile before he continues.

“I would fight more fiercely if you granted me your hand,” he speaks smoothly, but you still don’t fall prey to his attempts. Albeit you do give him your hand and watch him gently bring your hand up to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Once he lets go of you his smug smirk deepens.

“I wish you well in your travels, Ser, I hope to see you again,” you offer him even if deep down you do not mean it at all and you pray and hope for his and all their downfalls. “Now if you will excuse me, the Queen and I have to go.”

“Of course.” He bows his head at you before drifting his attention to Helaena one more time. “My Queen.”

She offers him a faint smile before she pulls you away with her to finally get away from the clustered place and walk through quieter spaces until you both find joy and peace in the castle gardens.

Winter is coming, like the Stark’s like to say, but the garden does not lack life. It’s a lively contrast to the chaos ascending everywhere, and a peaceful escape where you can admire the vibrant autumn flowers that show their beauty off like stars at night. The trees are bare with the leaves rusting and breaking away, but the vibrant leaf colors that litter the ground steal the attention from its emptiness. The only thing that does make the garden feel lackluster is the lack of roses. They don’t bloom like they do Winterfell.

“Look,” Helaena calls for your attention and makes you tear your gaze away from the calm sea in the distance. “An orchid.” She shows off the beautiful light pink flower before she drops it on your lap. “Now you’re one step closer to becoming an orchid mantis.”

You burst out laughing and she giggles with you.

“You know,” you add after you catch your breath. “I have this gown I have been meaning to wear. It has blue winter roses embroidered on the corset and on the borderlines of the skirt. It is very beautiful. We should have a gown designed for you of your favorite flower so we could show off together.”

Helaena hums and nods. “I would like that.”

“Good.” You say with a smile and stand back up to continue down the gardens, coming to find Lord Larys Strong wandering around the pond.

“Your Grace. Princess,” he greets and bows his head.

You offer him a faint smile in return and steal a glance around before addressing him. “Enjoying the kind weather?”

He hums. “Making the best of it before winter comes.”

“All we will get is light snows and bitter winds this far South,” you bring up and walk closer to him with Helaena falling behind. “We will live.”

“I suppose winters here don’t compare to those in the North,” he says, and you shake your head lightly before peering back to watch Helaena slowly make her way to you.

“I would just like to say that it is odd seeing you and Prince Aemond be so estranged,” he says and slowly drifts back to him. “Not long ago you were almost inseparable.”

You avert your gaze and purse your lips together before you mutter your comment. “Well, sadly there are matters that create a strain.”

“I am sorry to hear about your brother's passing, it was such a tragic affair.”

Your eyes snap up and rather than expressing gratitude, you hardened your gaze to pass him a warning glare so he can tread carefully.

“Marriage is a complicated thing, more so with a war that tears your gaze between two sides, and secrets that lurk beneath the surface,” he doesn’t listen, he’s bold, so you lift your chin and make your glare more menacing.

Lord Larys catches the threat behind your glare and checks that Helaena is distracted by what’s in the pond before he quietly brings a point to this babble.

“I just hope Prince Aemond’s frequent brothel visits are not the secret truly keeping you apart.”

Your heart drops and every attempt to be seen as menacing falls flat. Instead, anguish begins to surface, it takes your attention and leaves you lost in thought for the rest of the day.

And you know you have no reason to be upset after you lay with Cregan. You shouldn’t care because you hate Aemond after he killed Lucerys, but knowing he went to see other women, imagining him kissing another woman, and picturing him looking at them the same way he looks at you; like there’s only you and no one else, like you’re all that’s beautiful in the world, crushes your heart.

You don’t want him touching anyone else with the same gentle touch he blesses you with. You don’t want someone else tasting the sweetness of his lips, or seeing how completely vulnerable and loving he can be. You don’t like that someone else is seeing parts of him that are only meant for you. You don’t want him to admire someone the way he admires you.

You want to be the only one he finds beautiful, you want him to only love you, just like it always has been. You don’t want to share him.

Yet you also can’t be so selfish. You know what you did, and the bad thing is you don’t regret it. You shouldn’t expect loyalty when you broke it first. You can’t be seething in jealousy when you were the one who kissed another man and became intimate with him. That’s selfish too, and you can’t be selfish.

But oh!

You can’t stop tormenting yourself with images of Aemond kissing other women, and other women kissing him. You see it in the books you try to read to keep yourself distracted and hear the sounds of his pleasure in the crackle of the fires that gives light to your chambers and also keeps it warm. You’re tormented by the ugliness that is jealousy, and also getting torn apart between not deserving to be jealous. And him coming into the room does not make it easier because now you’re also plagued by memories of what he did.

You’ll probably find yourself broken down soon enough.

“Where’s Aerion?” Aemond asks first as he takes some weight off him by putting his sword aside.

“With your mother,” you deadpan and flip mindlessly through a different book. “She wanted to spend time with him and Jaehaera.”

Aemond hums and he then approaches you to lean over the couch and try and give you a peck on the cheek, but you lean away, leaving his lips to meet a cold emptiness.

He proceeds to linger the way you left him before he purses his lips and steps away with a deep sigh.

“I see you are still playing at that game,” he says boldly and pulls your attention away from the book to lift your head and focus on nothing in particular as you run over what just came out of his mouth.

When you know you heard him right a crease carves in between your eyebrows as they pinch together, your eyes narrow and almost seem to emit flames with the rage that makes you forget the purpose you really came. That’s all meaningless now as you shut the book and throw it on the couch before you get up and spin around to snap back. “Game? Is this some jest to you, Aemond?”

Said man slips his eyepatch off and throws it on the table, choosing not to feed the dragon he already stirred awake.

“Tell me? Was killing my brother some game to you?” You don’t hold back and march around the couch to get closer, but he keeps getting away as he works to take his leather vest off.

“Is my grief, my guilt, some game to you? You know I-I couldn’t even face my mother, or-or Rhaena, because of what you did? I blamed myself!” You throw at his back which moves further and further away. “Is that funny? Do you think I can just forget and pretend everything is alright? Like-like you did not break my heart in the worst way possible?!”

Aemond finally stops walking away, but he doesn’t turn around or speak, and that only triggers your anger to get more heated.

“Aemond?” You call out so you can get something, a hum if that’s what he wants to give, whatever, you just want a response to let you know he’s paying attention.

“Tell me. Is all I am, is all I feel is some game to you?”

His head slowly lowers, and angry tears form in your eyes while you start to believe what you’re accusing him of in his lingering silence.

“Tell me…because if I am…” you trail off and don’t finish because you fear accepting that it will be true. “Aemond,” you call out again in a broken voice and with a burning glare that falters while you storm over to him and stop halfway. “Aemond,” you whisper before your nose furls and you cry out desperately and with frustration laced within. “Aemond!”

Said man slowly turns on his heels with his eye glossy and downcast, his lips out in a pout, and his eyebrows formed in a shaky furrow.

“No,” is what he says under his breath but doesn’t dare look you in the eyes, he’s like a wounded boy filled with fear. Not of what lurks in the shadows, or of some great fear; he’s afraid of what will come out of the scolding, afraid that he will be received with disappointment and a cold shoulder.

“No what?” You press to know and step closer. “No I’m not some joke to you, or no you did not mean to betray me in that way?”

“Bloodshed was inevitable, if not me, it would’ve been someone else,” he brings out his first excuse.

“Okay,” you whisper and nod in understanding while you turn away and hold your hands as you take in what he said. “Okay.”

“You are not a joke,” he responds to your other question as he finally breaks away from the spot he was stuck to. “My intention was not to hurt you. You know that. You of all people in this fucking world is all that matters to me. Ever since I was young and got pushed around for being different. You,” he makes that word clear with a sense of a deep meaning, no deceit, devotion and passion. “I did not want to hurt you. I did not mean what I did…” he trails off in a whisper that wouldn’t have been audible if the room wasn’t cast in silence.

Yet does that really mean anything now that he did it? He can’t take back what he did, he can’t bring back Lucerys because he did not mean it. It still hurts and he can’t take that pain away with those words.

“All those times,” your voice quivers as your heart speaks for you. “…I spent missing you, wanting to come back home to you, and for what?” You say to the tension in the room and hear his lips part before his steps hit the ground louder and louder as he makes his way before you.

When you’re face to face, heart facing the others heart, his long and slender fingers reach for your face, but because of the violence done to you in the past days you pull your head back, making his hands freeze and tense for a second before he tries again and this time makes contact with your warm cheeks, providing more warmth that you can’t help but melt into.

You do hesitate looking into his eye because you know what you will see will only make your heart sing, but he demands your attention and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. At that moment letting you see the sweet man you have always loved, a soft and enamored man who shows his tender affection in his eye that gleams like the full moon itself.

“I sent you letters,” he brings up softly and glances at your lips as his breath catches.

You part your lips and feel a desire slowly take hold of you, but you are not done, he can’t just shut you up with sweet words, so you quickly rebuttal with an icy quip. “Full of empty words.”

You resisted what you otherwise would have fallen trap to and reel away from Aemond to face him with a serious look that falters between anguish.

“But what could I expect? You only wrote for 1 year when I was in Winterfell…”

“That again,” he mutters and drops his hands on his thighs as he shakes his head.

You scoff and nod angrily. “Yes, this again! Because I waited, you were my best friend! And I was alone! All I wanted was reassurance from you, and you left me alone…and now all I wanted was you to tell me what you feel, I would have loved the truth, but,” you pause and feign a laugh. “You led me on like you did nothing. Like you were doing nothing when in reality you killed my brother and lay with whores,” you spat out. You did not mean to. You wanted to hold it just for the sake of not sounding bitchy and hypocritical, but it hurts not knowing why HE did what he did.

Was he looking for just one little excuse to be with someone else? Have you not been enough? Were you not giving him enough attention? Enough love? Are you not beautiful enough for him?

It’s true you talked to Cregan in your year here, but only as friends before and after you married Aemond. You missed him but only when you felt alone here, but after Aemond made you feel loved, Cregan was a sweet memory of a first love. And now? You were hurt, you wanted to feel loved after getting your heart torn from your chest. You do not regret because that will tear you apart, and you do not want to deny what you did. You did it; you take responsibility for it, you won’t regret it especially because you felt happy in a dark tormenting storm…

But Aemond?

“Who told you?” He demands to know and at that moment proves Lord Larys’ accusation right.

“It does not matter who told me,” you sneer through gritted teeth. “You did it…You do it.”

Aemond drops his eye and his lips curl to a snarl before he answers firmly. “Not since you returned.”

You shouldn’t but you feel like someone is just crushing your heart.

“No…then what about last night? When you left.” You press for more even if the little voice in your head is telling you to stop fishing for more.

“You did not want to see me, remember?” He sasses you. “Was I supposed to stay here just to have you glaring at me?”

You snap your eyes to him and narrow your glare, making him avert his gaze and answer quieter.

“I was with Ser Criston for a time before I took care of those men that shot at your dragon while our son was strapped on your chest.”

The corner of your lips twitch, but that does nothing to win you over.

“And the other times,” he continues and takes a step forward to close the gap left between you by grabbing your face and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Meant nothing. It was nothing but comfort while I was tormented. I did not touch her the way I touch you, I did not kiss her in any way, my heart, my lips are yours. I am yours. It meant nothing,” he makes clear by pouring out his heart, and bringing tears to your eyes.

Yet your tears aren’t out of relief that he gifted you the confession that his heart only yearns for you. You start to cry out of guilt and…regret.

You did not want to feel regret. It was a cemented knowledge, but you are the bad person here. You are horrible for becoming one flesh with another man, for feeling love and appreciation for someone else who is not your husband. Perhaps what Aemond did was bad too, his affair was emotional, but that night your heart belonged to Cregan, and now…if what Helaena said was true then your sin might come to life.

How could you be so horrible?

Why did you have to dig for the truth? It would have been better if you just simmered in your jealousy, but now?

Gods.

You turn your head away to not face him, but he just moves his head in search of your teary eyes. And when he finds your gaze he wipes the tears off your cheeks and parts his lips. Yet nothing comes out but a punctured breath as his eye grows tender and bright like the stars and the moon that reign the sky, but infinitely more beautiful, and just for you to admire and cherish.

Profound enamourment also fills his eye and only works to make his confession of love louder without any need for words.

If only you could give it all in return. You can’t share that intense love because resentment and hatred are still very much alive in your heart. Besides, now guilt for what you did takes a space within you, only further pushing that affection.

“Come with me,” he beckons, much to your surprise.

“Where?” You ask.

“Out,” he only surprises you more. “In the city.”

You scoff. Is he being serious? Or is this some jest? He says the city at night is for delinquents to rage, you always have to force him out with you to do something fun.

“We shouldn’t, I—”

“Now it’s you who’s protesting,” he cuts you off with the corner of his lips perked. “Just come with me for the night. Please.”

You lower your face and remark. “You do not like going into the city. I always have to beg you to come out at night. Then again you have been out, so.” you remark bitterly.

Aemond slides his hands down to hold your shoulders and even if he is annoyed at your remark he insists. “I…just want to show you some fun,” he uses your own persuading words against you purposely.

“Aemond,” you protest and he grabs your face again to pull you towards him, making your eyes flicker to his lips just a hairsbreadth away, calling for your warmth and taste to reunite and mold back together like a missing puzzle piece.

“Please,” he insists softly and pulls away to offer you his hand.

You glance at his hand offering you an attempt at a rekindle and then look back at his eye and the sapphire glimmering against the candlelight, and it's almost like it's giving a hopeful glow in the same way his eye, his lips, and eyebrows express the hope that you will accept.

A part of you says no, you will worsen your guilt, and it won’t be fun if you’re bitter and hold resentment with each word, but also another part of you is too curious and intrigued by the fact that he's the one offering you a night out first and not the other way around.

Both sides fight a short bloody fight, with one choice coming out triumphant. But deep down was it so hard to choose?

As if attracted to a dark calling of temptation you give him your hand.

A/N- No don’t take us out into the city Aemond, you’re so sexy and smitten aha 🫣

220 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 2 years ago

Text

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 10

Request: Yes or No

TW: Stillbirth

~~~

There was an awkward tension in the dining room as the families awaited the King to arrive. Both families sat on opposite ends of the table and avoided conversation, wishing to be anywhere but near each other. But King Viserys had made his wish for supper with his family clear, so they swallowed their differences for the night. (Y/N) occupied himself by watching his sons chat with Daemon's daughters, the air between the four light and friendly. The girls giggled and laughed at things the boys said and the fact they appeared to enjoy each other's company filled (Y/N) with relief. The last thing he wished for was for his sons to be in unhappy marriages.

"I have a feeling it won't be long before we become grandfathers," Daemon muttered from beside him, and (Y/N) sighed heavily in response, reaching for his cup and drinking as Daemon snickered under his breath. The doors opened and they rose from their seats, watching King VIserys be brought in on a chair. The children quickly went to their chairs and stood behind them, looking back at King Viserys and waiting for him to be placed between his wife and daughter. Once situated, they took their seats.

"How good is it... to see you all tonight... together." King Viserys said, panting softly and turning his head to gaze at his daughter. Rhaenyra met her father's eyes and smiled softly, looking back at the table and the food laid out before them.

Leaning toward her husband so he could hear her clearly, Alicent asked, "Prayer before we begin?"

"Yes.." King Viserys breathed and Alicent nodded, resting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands together, eyes closing. Rhaenyra blinked at her and looked toward her husband, earning a light shrug in response to her questioning look. Nodding for their sons to follow, Rhaenyra and (Y/N) bowed their heads.

"May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest." Alicent finished her prayer and opened her eyes, leaning back in her seat and resting her hands on her lap. (Y/N) glanced at the amused Daemon, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a chuckle.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond... between our houses." King Viserys said breathily as the children looked at one another with wide smiles. (Y/N) felt Rhaenyra gently wrap her fingers around his wrist, a fond smile stretching out on her face when she spotted the pleased looks on her sons' faces. "A toast to the young Princes' and their betrothed."

"Hear, hear!" Daemon called, raising his cup with everyone else. He leaned over to bump his shoulder against (Y/N)'s teasingly and (Y/N) rolled his eyes in turn. His gaze shifted over to Jace when the boy placed his cup down on the table a little too hard, noticing Aegon grinning at him and Baela looking at the prince in annoyance.

"Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides." King Viserys added and Luke smiled proudly, eyes twinkling when Rhaena leaned over to quietly speak to him. (Y/N) smiled and took another sip of his drink, setting it back down on the table. His smile faltered, watching Aegon lean over and speak to Jace, earning another glare from Baela and Jace. (Y/N) looked away from them and toward King Viserys when he struggled to stand. Alicent reached out toward her husband, helping him stay steady on his shakey legs. His hands rested on the table and he leaned against it, looking over everyone.

"It both... gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow... to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world... yet grown so distant from each other... in the years past." King Viserys said, labored breathing filling the space. He lifted a hand to his mask and undid the clasp, letting it fall to the table before he turned to look at his daughter. Rhaenyra's grip on her husband's grip tightened and (Y/N) felt his breath hitch. Where King Viserys eye was once a hollow space filled it, exposing the tissue within in head. His cheek had rotten, exposing dead muscle and tissue. Alicent and her children averted their gazes as Rhaenyra and her sons stared in surprise and horror. "My own face... is no longer a handsome one... If indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me... as I am. Not just a King, but your father. Your brother. Your husband. And your grandsire... who may not, it seems... walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances... If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly."

With that, King Viserys heaved softly and grasped the armrests with trembling hands, lowering himself back down on the chair. Rhaenyra swallowed, staring down at her lap. She licked her lips and pulled her hand from (Y/N)'s wrist, standing up and lifting her cup. "I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen," Rhaenyra announced, turning her head to look at Alicent. The brunette gazed up at her, brows raising slightly. "I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apology." Rhaenyra finished and took her seat, nervously sipping on her drink.

Clearing his throat, (Y/N) rose as well and picked up his cup. "I'd also like to raise my cup to Her Grace... my beloved sister. For despite our past and future disagreements, I love and will continue to love her as I know she will do the same. I have the honor of calling someone as kind and forgiving as her my sister. And I hope with all my heart she'll forever remember how proud of her I am and I hope she'll never forget what a strong woman she is. I love you, dear sister, now and forever." He breathed, smiling softly as Alicent's eyes welled up with tears. Inhaling deeply, (Y/N) looked at his father. "And I'd like to raise my cup to the Hand as well. I know we have not always seen eye-to-eye and we've grown incredibly distant since the passing of Mother. But despite it all and despite what I may say, you will always have a place in my heart. I hope someday we will mend what has been broken and be father and son again."

"I hope so too," Otto muttered, bowing his head and gently dabbing at his eyes. (Y/N) lowered back down on his seat and drank from his cup to push down the emotions that threatened to spill over. Rhaenyra took his hand back into hers, rubbing her thumb over the back of it comfortingly. (Y/N) offered her a thankful smile.

"Your words move me deeply. Princess, we are both mothers and we love our children. You have given my brother the gift that is children and you love him as much as I do, perhaps more. And I know you'll stand loyally by my brother's side for years to come. We have more in common than we sometimes allow." Alicent spoke softly and rose, lifting her cup in their direction. "I raise my cup to you... and to your house. You will make a fine queen."

Her words brought a smile to Rhaenyra's face and she bowed her head, releasing a shakey exhale and smiling at her husband. (Y/N) gave her hands a squeeze and looked over everyone as they raised their cups and drank. (Y/N) could feel a certain heaviness leave his shoulders, the weight of things he wished to say to his family leaving and being replaced by a lightness. The suffocating feeling in his chest released him and he breathed, feeling relaxed in the presence of both families. The comforting feeling proved to be short-lived as his eldest son slammed his hands on the table and stood, glaring at Aegon when his uncle skittered to sit down. In return, Aemond rose from his chair and stared down his nephew.

Clearing his throat, Jace raised his cup and lightly punched Aegon's shoulder. "To Prince Aegon and... Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles." He finished with a tight smile, patting Aegon's shoulder and sitting down. Aemond stared at him for a lingering moment, jaw clenching as he sat back down.

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena! They'll be married soon." Helaena abruptly stood with her cup in hand just as (Y/N) went to set his cup down. The man grunted softly and brought his cup back toward his face, watching his beloved niece. "It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk." She said, smiling widely and sitting back down as her uncles and grandsire chuckled in response.

"Let us have some music." King Viserys ordered and when lively music began playing, Jace stood up from his seat and walked down the table to Helaena's side, offering her his hand. Helaena peered up at him and smiled, gently taking his hand and holding the side of her dress as he led her to the side of the room where they began to dance and laugh. (Y/N) smiled, quietly thanking a servant when she poured more wine into his cup. (Y/N) listened to the lively music, taking a sip of his wine and setting the cup down on the table. Rising from his seat, he offered Rhaenyra his hand and she took it with a smile, allowing him to lead her to where their son and his aunt danced.

"It's been a while since we last danced," Rhaenyra murmured, holding his hand and placing the other one on his shoulder.

"We've been rather busy with two boys, haven't we?" (Y/N) chuckled softly, twirling her around and hearing her soft giggling. Rhaenyra's long hair swept over her shoulder as she faced him, gaze softening as she looked at him. (Y/N) pressed his lips to her forehead, the arm around her waist pulling her closer. He felt the bump press against him and smiled.

"I think we're having a little girl."

"Oh, do you?" Rhaenyra lifted her brows and smiled widely. "Seeing all the boys you've given me, I believe we're having a boy again."

"You'll see. She'll look like you and be just as vexing, perhaps more." (Y/N) cooed teasingly, hearing Rhaenyra laugh and shake her head. The silver-haired princess placed her head against his shoulder, gently swaying with him. Around them, the chatter picked up and (Y/N) could even hear Alicent's familiar laugh. Rhaenyra hummed softly in contentment, nuzzling into his neck.

"We can name her after your mother. Though, perhaps if it's a boy-"

"We are not naming our child after Daemon, Nyra. This world will not be able to handle two of them and I value my sanity." His words caused Rhaenyra to snort and laugh again. Leaning back, Rhaenyra placed a sweet peck on his cheek and took his hand, returning to the table to rest and eat. (Y/N) offered his hand for her to hold as she sat before sitting down as well, bringing his cup to his lips and drinking again. King Viserys looked at the two fondly, a small smile toying at his lips. (Y/N) began eating, exchanging conversation with Daemon and Rhaenyra, gaze occasionally flickering to Luke and Rhaena as the two chatted.

"Guards." Alicent's soft voice pulled (Y/N)'s attention away from his son and onto the King, noticing him breathing heavily and grunting softly. The guards lifted the chair from the ground and they all stood to watch him be taken out of the room. Rhaenyra gazed after him sadly, a soft sigh leaving her. They sat back down and (Y/N) picked up his fork, flinching when the sound of the table being hit echoed and stopped the music. They turned to look at Aemond as the prince rose, lifting his cup.

"Final tribute." He called. "To the health of my nephews: Jace... Luke... and Joffery. Each of them handsome, wise.... strong."

"Aemond.." Alicent called in warning, raising her brows at her son but Aemond continued looking at the two boys, a smirk growing on his face.

"Come... Let us drain our cups to these three boys. The spitting image of their father." Aemond lifted his cup in (Y/N)'s direction causing his uncle to inhale and close his eyes briefly. Jace and Luke clenched their jaws, glaring at Aemond.

"What do you mean by that?" Jace questioned and Aemond cocked his head in feigned innocence.

"'Twas only a compliment," Aemond responded, facing his nephew when he began approaching him. Luke stood up from his seat, watching the two. "Do you not believe the color green suits you?" With a grunt, Jace swung at his uncle, fist connecting with his jaw as Aegon grabbed Luke and pinned him to the table.

"Stop this!" Alicent shouted and rose from her seat, grasping at her dress and rounding the table. Aemond effortlessly shoved Jace down onto the floor and laughed when the guards rushed in and held Jace back. (Y/N) and Rhaenyra moved around the table and Aegon quickly released Luke only for the smaller boy to be held back by guards when he attempted to retaliate against his uncle. With more prodding from Aemond, Jace shoved back the guards holding him and made a beeline for Aemond, only stopping when (Y/N) put himself between the two and grabbed his shoulders.

"That's enough." (Y/N) muttered harshly and Jace swallowed, chest heaving as he glared at Aemond and avoided his father's gaze. The Hightower pushed Jace back with his brother and cousins as Rhaenyra instructed them to go to their chambers. They reluctantly did so, glaring at Aegon and Aemond whilst leaving the room. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and turned around to look at his nephew. "That was unnecessary, Aemond."

"Quite." Daemon agreed despite his amused smirk, standing beside (Y/N) and resting his hand on his sword. Aemond's gaze flickered between them, hands curling into fists. The prince clenched his jaw and hummed lowly, deciding to take his leave instead of arguing with them. Daemon watched him closely and followed him out, glancing back at the couple before disappearing from view.

"Rhaenyra, Brother.." Alicent sighed and approached them, an apologetic look on her face. She looked between them as they faced her with exhausted expressions. The princess sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking at Alicent with a small frown.

"I think it's best if we got back to Dragonstone." She admitted softly, slipping her arm around her husband's.

Clicking her tongue, Alicent shook her head and gently took Rhaenyra's arm. "You've only just arrived." She pointed out, thumb gently caressing the skin of her former friend's exposed arm. The first time they'd touched so sweetly since their friendship fell apart. Neither of them could remember the last time they'd spoken so kindly to each other. Rhaenyra looked down at Alicent's hands and inhaled, nodding her head as she thought of what to do.

"Let us see the children home. We'll return on dragonback." Rhaenyra spoke softly, looking up at her husband for confirmation and smiling when he nodded. A chance to mend what had been broken for too many years. A chance for friends to grow close again. A chance for brother and sister to be together again. A chance the three of them desperately wanted despite everything that had happened.

"The King and I would both like that," Alicent said, gaze softening as she smiled. Rhaenyra nodded and wrapped her fingers around Alicent's arm in turn, gazing at her former friend before slipping her hand from her grasp and turning toward the doors. (Y/N) stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his sister, feeling her sink into his chest and release a heavy sigh. "I've missed you, Brother."

"I've missed you too." (Y/N) whispered, leaning back and brushing away Alicent's curls. The queen sniffled and brushed away the tears from her eyes, lips quivering slightly. Inhaling and smiling fondly, she reached up to cup his face, thumb moving back and forth across his skin.

"Thank you for what you said earlier." She mumbled, voice threatening to crack as more tears flooded her eyes. Dropping her hands from his face to his hands, she tightly grasped them and sighed shakily. "I'll love you no matter what happens."

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Rhaenyra ran her comb through her smooth hair, gaze cast out toward the waters. Her husband watched her from his seat on their bed, noticing the distant look in her eyes. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising, he brushed past the crib they had prepared for their unborn child and approached his wife, arms gently slithering around her waist and pressing his palm against her belly. Rhaenyra smiled, broken out of her train of thought.

"What occupies your mind, beloved?"

"I... There was this heavy feeling in my chest when I awoke. Like something terrible had happened but..." Rhaenyra shook her head, lips pulling into a frown as she set her comb down. (Y/N) stepped back and watched her beckon one of the maids over, stripping off her silk gown and getting dressed for the journey back to King's Landing. The sight of her growing belly put a smile on (Y/N)'s lips. "Perhaps it was nothing and it is just my mind playing tricks on me. Last night ended horribly but Alicent seemed so genuine. There are many days when I wonder what we would be like if things had occurred differently. If she hadn't married my father..."

"There's no use wondering such things, Nyra. They'll only cause you further grief and guilt." (Y/N) advised, watching the maids expertly weave braids into her hair. Rhaenyra sighed, looking at herself in the mirror and smoothing out the front of her dress, dismissing the maids with a nod and turning to face her husband.

"I know. It has just been so long... I hope this time we can truly fix things." Rhaenyra told him, extending her arms toward him and letting him take her hands into his. (Y/N) brought them to his face, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. She smiled and stepped forward, kissing her husband before pulling away from his arms.

"I'll check on the boys and then we can leave," Rhaenyra told him, resting a hand on her belly and leaving the room. (Y/N) watched her go before sighing and stepping out toward the balcony, resting his hands on the railing and feeling the wind tussling his clothes. If he had to be honest, he'd awoken with a similar feeling. The feeling of dread. The same dread one felt when they set out to sea and watched a deadly storm approach. But he had to believe things would be different and better. The past could no longer haunt them, swaying them away from each other. His sister had appeared desperate to be back in the arms of those she loved dearly.

"Let us be whole again, please." (Y/N) whispered to the winds. His faith in the gods had wavered through the years but if he were to believe they even existed, he had to trust they'd guided him down the correct path and would continue to do so. The Seven had failed him before, at least in his eyes, but the great Mother had provided him with many children whom he loved.

"M'Lord, forgive me for intruding so suddenly." (Y/N) turned his head and stepped back into the room, picking up his coat from the chair and slipping it on as he nodded for the guard to continue. "Princess Rhaenys has arrived on dragonback and urgently requests an audience."

"Princess Rhaenys?" (Y/N) repeated, brows furrowing. Nodding to the guard, he stepped out of the room and made his way to the hall, seeing Daemon and Rhaenyra waiting. Both Targaryens appeared as in the dark about the news as him and he frowned, taking his place beside his wife. Rhaenys entered the room, clad in armor and with messy hair. She wore a deep frown on her face. Rhaenyra greeted her with a smile, rubbing circles around her belly.

"Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for news of Lord Corlys's recovery?"

"Viserys is dead," Rhaenys announced. Rhaenyra stared at the woman, brows relaxing as her whole body went rigid. (Y/N) lowered his gaze to the table, processing the information. The King, while gravely sick, had proven to have enough strength to live for a few more days. And yet... "I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father... possessed a kind heart." Rhaenyra remained silent, beginning to sway slightly on her feet, eyes turning glossy.

"Rhaenyra..." (Y/N) breathed softly, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around her to steady her.

"There is more," Rhaenys added as she walked closer to them. Inhaling, she continued, "Aegon has been crowned as his successor."

Rhaenyra suddenly whimpered softly, bringing a hand to her belly. Swallowing, she asked with a breathless tone. "They crowned him?"

"How did Viserys die?" Daemon asked, voice soft and filled with sorrow.

"I could not say," Rhaenys answered, averting her gaze from her grieving cousin. Her words did little to soothe either Targaryen. Daemon reached for his sword and grew agitated, shaking his head lightly.

"H-How long ago?" Rhaenyra winced again, glancing down at her belly. (Y/N) frowned, noticing her clutching her stomach and leaning against the table.

"A day past, perhaps two. I was made a prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations."

Snapping his eyes to Rhaenys, (Y/N)'s brows furrowed. "Alicent?" He breathed. The same woman that had only a day or two prior wept in his arms at the idea of spending time with her brother and his wife... had betrayed them for the crown? No, that couldn't be. (Y/N) knew his sister. His sweet, compassionate, and gullible sister. (Y/N) clenched his jaw. Otto must've had something to do with it.

"Viserys has been slain." Daemon assumed, sorrow slowly morphing into anger.

"Alicent demanded... you declare for Aegon?" Rhaenyra looked at Rhaenys, the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She furrowed her brows at Rhaenys at the realization she hadn't been hurt for refusing to take part in usurping the throne. Noticing the suspicion on Rhaenyra and Daemon's faces, Rhaenys inhaled deeply.

"The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit. I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meleys." She explained thoroughly, almost offended they doubted her loyalty. Rhaenyra winced again, grunting softly.

"They crowned him... before the masses." She breathed softly.

"So that the masses would see him as their rightful king."

"That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne and you could have burned them all for it." Daemon seethed and (Y/N) snapped his attention toward him but remained silent. He needed to believe his sister had nothing to do with it. But Alicent had grown a bitter dislike toward Rhaenyra since their falling out and the marriage between them. Perhaps... she had finally become a proper Hightower. A typical scheming, self-serving Hightower. Just like their father.

"A war is to be fought over this treachery, to be sure. But that war is not mine to begin. I only rushed this warning out of loyalty to my husband and my house. The Greens are coming for you, Rhaenyra. And for your children. You should leave Dragonstone at once." Rhaenys told them, watching Rhaenyra before she turned and began walking away. Tears slipped down Rhaenyra's cheeks before she cried out in agony, bracing herself against the table. Rhaenys stopped at her pained cry and (Y/N) quickly tightened his hold to steady her. A shakey gasp left his wife and she reached down, scooping up the skirt of her dress and reaching in only to pull out a bloody hand.

"The babe is coming." She whispered, fearfully turning to her husband.

"Get the maester and midwives!" (Y/N) shouted urgently and the guard present really rushed out to alert the maester of the early labor. With Daemon's help, the two men helped Rhaenyra to the bedchambers where the maids quickly entered and Daemon exited the room. Rhaenyra cried out, attempting to help the maids get her dress off with trembling hands. (Y/N) swallowed and stepped out of the room, allowing them to take care of her until the time came. He ran a hand over his face, noticing Daemon staring at him from the end of the hall with a dark look on his face.

"Daemon-" (Y/N) exhaled deeply and approached him, feeling his head begin to ache from everything happening at once.

"We must begin planning, (Y/N)," Daemon muttered and turned his back to him, ordering a knight to gather those residing in Dragonstone. (Y/N) followed him to the main hall and leaned against the table, inhaling deeply as everyone gathered. (Y/N) winced upon hearing Rhaenyra's pained groans and cries echoing through the castle and lifted his head.

"Seeing as we're just now receiving news of King Viserys passing, I assume Otto will handle us just as secretively. Anyone who arrives at Dragonstone now cannot be trusted and we must ensure the island remains free of traitors." (Y/N) spoke, trying to maintain a clear voice. He paused when Rhaenyra cried out again and swallowed. "Every inch of this island must be under surveillance at every waking moment. They may attempt to come by small boat so we must send out patrols. We do not have many men, I know that, but if we appear as if we do, they may back off briefly and allow us time to think of a bigger plan. We need fighters. Anyone who can wield a sword or protect themselves well enough must be enlisted."

"Lord (Y/N) is right-" Daemon pressed his lips together when Rhaenyra screamed, looking at (Y/N) and frowning. Rhaenyra cried again, this time calling (Y/N)'s name repeatedly. Reaching out, Daemon roughly placed his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "She needs you. I'll handle this."

While (Y/N) wished to remain, the second scream for him Rhaenyra released was enough to get his legs moving back in the direction of their shared chamber. Spotting their sons leaving the hall to their bedchambers and in his direction, he cleared his throat. Jace and Luke slowed down, staring at him with hardened features.

"What can we do?" Jace asked, straightening his posture and staring at (Y/N) as if they were soldiers and he their commander. (Y/N) licked his lips, glancing between the two of them and stepping forward. He reached out to place a hand on Jace's arm and lifted his brows.

"I need you to handle Daemon. He's in a frenzy right now and the only thing on his mind is revenge. You mustn't allow anything to happen without my permission or your mother's, you both understand? He is not thinking straight and will likely push for drastic measures." (Y/N) explained. The two boys nodded, glancing at each other.

"Yes, Father," Jace answered, almost immediately tensing after the word escaped his lips. (Y/N) inhaled softly, staring at Jace and Luke before wrapping his arms around them both and pulling them close. The two slowly wrapped their arms around him, tense figures relaxing.

"Ser Laenor will always be your father because he loved you both as much as I do. Do not feel as if you are betraying him." (Y/N) told them softly, leaning back and placing a hand on each of their cheeks. "You're man-grown now and we need you more than ever." He said and stepped aside, nodding for them to go handle Daemon. Jace nodded, inhaling deeply and continuing down the hall.

"Thank you, Father," Luke muttered softly before moving down the hall. In the face of everything, (Y/N) felt himself smile and sighed softly, continuing to his chambers. He entered, glancing at the maester who attempted to speak with Rhaenyra only to be cursed at. She'd been changed back into her silk nightgown though it now had stains of red on it and her skin had been covered in a light sheen of sweat. (Y/N) inhaled deeply, glancing down at the red droplets scattered across the stone floor. "Nyra?"

"It is far too early for her to be in labor, My Lord." The maester explained to him quietly as Rhaenyra groaned again. "I fear that the babe will not-"

"I'm aware." (Y/N) interrupted, clasping his hands behind his back and inhaling again. His mother had been no stranger to early labors. She'd told them the stories when they asked, wishing to inform Alicent about it. She'd spoken sadly about it, how unforgivable the labor pains had been only to be granted a babe that never took its first breath. "Do everything you must to help her." He instructed and the maester bowed his head.

"(Y/N)- We- We cannot allow Daemon to-" Rhaenyra cried out again, panting heavily and attempting to even her breathing as instructed by the midwives. She whimpered and sobbed, slowly lowering herself down to the floor beside the bed. The distraught midwives and maids looked on, begging her to allow them to help her but she refused. (Y/N) rounded the bed and maintained distance, lowering down on his hunches.

"Rhaenyra, they can help you-"

"No." She whispered, rolling onto her knees and pulling her bloodstained gown up slightly, crying out in pain. "Get out! Get out of me!" Rhaenyra screamed, blood splattering down onto the stone floor. Her chest heaved as she reached beneath her gown with red hands, saliva dripping from her mouth as she cried out again. (Y/N) felt his throat tighten, gaze flickering down as a small head slipped out from beneath her gown. With another agonized scream, the body followed, falling to the stone ground with a squelch. A small deformed body. A little girl who didn't move nor cry. Quietly weeping escaped one of the midwives behind him. Moving off her knees, Rhaenyra inhaled and reached down with trembling hands, picking up the body of her daughter and wrapping the ends of her gown around her. She held her close to her body as she rocked back and forth, eyes fluttering shut

"M'Lord..." The maester called out softly. (Y/N) silently stood up from his crouched position and stepped closer, moving behind his wife and carefully sitting down. He leaned forward, kissing her shoulder and resting his chin on it.

They remained like that together for a few minutes, even when Daemon went to check on them. He offered his condolences and allowed the couple space to mourn until Rhaenyra gathered the strength to rise. (Y/N) followed her to the room where the Silent Sisters waited and they stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to carefully set her little girl down and wrap her in cloth. (Y/N) stared down at the small body, feeling his eyes water as the realization set in finally. He lost his only daughter and while nobody but the Stranger could be at fault, (Y/N) couldn't help but blame his family for it. Their greed, their selfishness, their lust for power.

"Marin Targaryen," Rhaenyra whispered, the tears sliding down her cheeks, sobs beginning to shake her shoulders. The wave of emotions crashing about in his head ceased into numbness. His hands stroked the sides of his wife's arms as she cried over the body of their child but the tears that had previously flooded his eyes were easily blinked away. His family had robbed him of so much. And they would continue to do so.

By that evening, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra had arranged a quick funeral for their daughter, standing by the fire as smoke rose into the air in black clothes. They silently stared into the fire, faces blank and devoid of emotion. So much so Daemon's anger had been momentarily put aside and replaced by concern. He watched the two, attempting to think of what to say but the sound of approaching footsteps pulled him away from them. A knight approached them and slipped his helmet off before bending the knee. (Y/N) and Rhaenyra turned toward him as he reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar crown. The very one King Viserys had worn.

Lifting the crown up toward Rhaenyra, he spoke, "I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers." The two stepped away from the fire and toward the knight as Daemon inspected the crown. "I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor." The knight finished as Daemon turned to face the couple, walking forward and offering the crown to (Y/N). The Hightower swallowed and reached out, taking the crown into his and moving to stand before Rhaenyra. The silver-haired woman stared at him as he placed the crown on her head, cementing her place as Queen Rhaenyra.

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