#dragonfics

Rhaenyra curled a brow toward Daemon, turning her body toward her husband. His face was lined in that smirk, a smirk that only promised her trouble or the deepest of pleasures. “I know not what you speak, dear husband.’’ Rhaenyra breathed, her face dusting over with a soft blush. Taking her hand in his, Daemon’s voice dropped into a low whisper. His body leaned against her, their chests now colliding. “Do not play me for a fool, zaldristos. I saw the way you were looking at her.’’ He whispered, his lips brushing against Rhaenyra.

The Princess knew his words to be true.

You had taken over her mind. Rhaenyra found herself thinking of you, ever since she saw you at court. House Baratheon had been a long standing ally to House Targaryen, your blood going back to the days of the Conqueror. The blood of the dragon and that of the stag ran the same river, passing through your veins and that of the Princess Rhaenys. Rhaenyra loved Daemon, she knew that to be true and yet, she found herself wondering if she had fallen in love with you. Ever since Rhaenyra feld King’s Landing, she seldom found solace from you.

Your beautiful (h/c) hair, your stunning (e/c) eyes. Even your voice gave the Princess no escape. “I've found that she has been occupying my mind as of late." Rhaenyra answered, her voice slow. As if she feared that Daemon would think that she didn't love him anymore.

Daemon smirked, his hand snaking behind Rhaenyra's head and urging her closer to him.

The Rogue Prince wasn't a stranger to Rhaenyra's infatuation with you, for he too was struck by it.

Nobles spoke in hushed whispers of you, about how you were born during one of the worst storms that Westeros had ever seen. It was said that through the screams and yells of your mother, the storm nearly brought the keep down. A common jest of the court was that the gods returned to finish what they started long ago.

Daemon watched you intently during his time in court, wishing to know anything and everything about you.

You were unmarried, Lord Boremund having refused all suitors that came for your hand. In his eyes, none were worthy of the Baratheon name and he wished to preserve his daughter's wish for a suitor of her choosing.

Borros, your brother and current Lord of the Stormlands, did not share his father's sentiment however. Daemon had heard him more than once, looking and strategizing your marriage, as if you were nothing more than a pawn.

With Daemon and Rhaenyra, you would be treated as you deserved.

You would be loved as you deserved.

Daemon pressed his lips against Rhaenyra, silencing any doubt that threatened to rise to the surface. "You want her…and so do I." Daemon whispered, his voice laden with want. Rhaenyra hummed against his lips, her hands soft and caressing his face.

"Her brother would never allow such a thing."

"Her brother is nothing but a greedy cunt. He will do almost anything to secure his own power.’’ Daemon said. His eyes sparked with a wild flame. They were almost akin to dragons. With one final kiss, Daemon breathed one more word.

“He cannot deny his future Queen.’’

—

The news reached your brother before it ever did you.

News that the dragons sought a doe for a second wife.

The court whispered in hushed tones, eyes downcast. Some spoke with pity, of how you were a poor girl, being handed over to the beasts that would tear you apart. Some stared daggers into you, lords and ladies laden with jealousy at the lost opportunity for more power. As you passed the threshold into the Great Hall, the voices disappeared. There Borros sat, on the seat that once proudly accommodated your father.

It had been years since his passing and yet you could still feel him. Feel him in every decision that you made, every defiance you spat. “My steadfast hind.’’ he would call you, when the Septas related to him about your many shenanigans.

You bowed before Borros, who smiled.

"Arise, dear sister."

"You called for me, brother?"

Borros rose from his seat, walking toward the balcony, looking upon Shipwreckers Bay. You walked to him, your dress swaying as you did so. "Yes, I have great news for you." He said, making you quirk a brow.

"It's about time that you are married, sister." Borros said. Those words were enough to make your stomach drop. Marriage was like a shadow, constantly following you. It was what your father would have wanted, you thought. He wanted you to be well, even when he couldnt be with you. “I suppose so.’’ You responded, curtly. “Would I be wrong to assume that this great news heralds such a message.’’

“You always did catch on quickly.’’

‘’Who is he?’’

“Prince Daemon Targaryen.’’ Borros stated, aptly ignoring your bewildered expression. While any prospect of marriage with a member of the house of the dragon was more than a welcomed one, the people had their fair share of words to spare for the Rogue Prince. “Brother, you cannot be serious…Prince Daemon is already betrothed to the heir, Princess Rhaenyra.’’ You retorted. Borros nodded his head. “Surely, the Princess must be unaware of this?"

"It was a messenger from the Princess herself, sister. Believe me, she is aware." Borros comforted, yet his words did nothing to sooth you.

You would do what was necessary for your house.

But this was beyond anything that you could have imagined.

You found yourself thinking what your father would think. He bent the knee once Rhaenyra was declared heir and House Baratheon followed. Borror was less keen on the succession, yet he could seldom contest it. "This will bring forth great fortune, sister. You will wed the consort and our House will be even closer to the Throne." Borros said, his hands gently placed on your shoulders. You bore into each other's eyes, a silent challenge between brother and sister. You silently prayed that he might change his mind, that he might respect your father's wishes and leave you be.

"Shall the raven be sent?"

But your father was dead.

And it was time to do your duty.

You nodded silently.

Borros laughed out joyfully, pulling you into an embrace, as you already began to bid your goodbyes.

To your brother.

To your land.

To home.

—

"We should be reaching Dragonstone soon, my lady."

"Thank you, Ser Brandon." Ser Brandon was a man from the North, brought to the Stormlands when you were just a girl of six and ten. Your father appointed him as your Kingsguard and he had been with you even since. You fiddled with your rings, gazing out into the sea.

"You're nervous."

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're going to be alright, my lady. I won't leave you alone if I can help it." His words brought a smile to your face. "Your devotion is appreciated, Ser Brandon. But even that can't soothe the uncertainty I feel." You said. "Prince Daemon is a character…" he said. You hummed. You had only spoken to the Prince and Princess in passing, mostly about idle things like court duties. They had intrigued you, you couldn't deny it.

Perhaps it was their position, or maybe it was the dragons that perched themselves on the keep, growing and illuminating the sky with their bright, dangerous flames.

Watching the waves, you thought of Rhaenyra.

While your brother assured that it was she who sent the messenger, you had to know what she thought of this. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, one out of love and the other out of duty.

Which one were you?

You pulled from your thoughts once a piercing roar reached your ears. Looking up, you saw two figures dancing among the clouds.

Dragons.

The beasts soared down toward the boat, Ser Brandon wasting no time in pulling you down. The gust of wind that followed was harsh, salt and sea water sprinkling you slightly. "My lady are you alright? Are you in need of the maestre?" Your Kingsguard interrogated, almost frantically. "I'm alright, Ser Brandon. Please, have the shipmaster be ready to dock. We are here." You announced, rising to your feet.

Ser Brandon looked yonder, being met with the Keep and the glory of Dragonstone.

Aegon settled with his sister's on that castle when they first came here. And now, a doe was entering the den of the dragon. You sighed, once again returning to your rings as the shipmaster ordered preparations to dock.

"Father watch over me." You prayed, as the ship drew closer and the gates to the keep opened.

—

The ship docked.

You and Ser Brandon disembarked, your heart beating more and more. Daemon and Rhaenyra awaited you at the keep, while here, you were greeted by the future heir, Prince Jacaerys.

"My Prince." You greeted, bowing. "Lady (Y/n), welcome to Dragonstone. I do hope the trip was easy." Jacaerys smiled, motioning you inside. You and the Prince walked side to side, as your respective guards were not too far behind. "My mother and Daemon await you inside. They saw it fit for me to greet you." Jacaerys explained. You smiled, "It has been a pleasure, my Prince. I do hope we will get to see more of each other."

"Gods willing, my lady. Come, my mother isn't to be kept waiting." Jacaerys ushered you toward the throne room, absent minded to your growing nervousness. Ser Brandon was close behind you, giving you a reassuring gaze.

Once the doors opened, you heard the announcement of your arrival.

"Lady (Y/n) of House Baratheon!"

The hall was empty, sept Rhaenyra and Daemon. The two exchanged knowing glances, sharp eyes following your form as you entered the hall. You were clad in the colors of your house, deer imagery proudly strewn about your dress. Daemon was all too eager to have those replaced with dragons, as you would come to wear their house colors soon. “Princess…you have honored my house with your proposal. I’ve come to accept it.’’ You said. Rhaenyra’s face was etched with a smile, her rising from her throne.

“And you honor me and my husband with your acceptance. Our houses have always been allies, it is my hope that we will now be friends.’’ The Princess said, sounding rather hopeful. You gave a smile, your (e/c) eyes catching Daemon’s for a moment. He seemed pleased. Had he no shame? Eyeing you up in front of his wife? Rhaenyra inter locked her arm with yours, taking you out of the throne room and into a small chamber which you could only assume was a leisure room. “May I offer you something to drink?” Rhaenyra inquired.

“No, my princess, I am not thirsty.’’

“You sound nervous.’’ She chuckled and you hated that she was right. Your palms were clammy, you were trying to discreetly wipe them on your dress skirt. “That seems to be a constant today’’ You asked jokingly. “You have nothing to be nervous about, sweetling.’’ The Princess reassured. You looked up at her, eyes meeting hers. Realm’s Delight indeed. You had stolen glances at the Princess in court,having spoken to her only a handful of times. You had grown into your affections at that point, knowing that no matter what your lover was, it was the heart that mattered. At least to you.

“Forgive my brash questioning, princess, but…how are you alright with this?’’

“What do you mean?’’

“I am going to be marrying your husband!’’ You exclaimed, outraged. “I would think you scored, bitter, jealous but you as it stands are nothing of the sort!” You continued, skin flushing with heat. “I wish to know what I am getting into…I won't be sec-’’

“Who said you are to marry only Daemon?’’

Her words left you even more confused than before. Rhaenyra smirked, only then realizing that Borros probably excluded that part from the raven. Rhaenyra took a tentative step toward you, almost as if you were a frightened doe. “Forgive me for causing you such peril…it was not my intention.’’ She whispered, her hand rising slowly. When you didn't shy away, her hand stayed on your face. “Me and Daemon…we’ve been infatuated with you for a long time. When we left court, I almost thought to take you with me.’’ Rhaenyra confessed, feeling her own face heat up.

While she spoke, you swore you had died and ascended to the Seven. You replayed her words over and over, thinking it was just your wishful mind tricking you. “Since the day I saw you in court…I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Daemon shares the same sentiment, I’m sure.’’ Rhaenyra chuckled. Her husband hadn’t kept his own infatuation with you a secret, as it was his idea to even send the raven. You leaned into Rhaenyra’s touch, sighing.

You relaid your own feelings to the princess, how her and the prince had haunted your every waking moment. That they were the only two you could ever think to marry. Once you concluded your little rant, Rhaenyra and you stared into each other's eyes, her own ignited with that Targaryen fire. Soon, your lips collided, and fire burst in your stomach.

The two of you were so entangled in your passions, you didn't even notice Daemon standing at the door. "I haven't even spoken to her and you're already trying to steal my bride." The prince chuckled, moving through your confusion and standing behind you. You crane your head to the side to gaze upon your future husband, as he took a loose strand of your hair and twisted it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Beautiful."

"That she is…" Rhaenyra parroted. You hummed in satisfaction, as Daemon took to placing kisses on your exposed necks.

They made it seem like you had known each other for years.

You gently urged the two to stop, a dreamy smile on your lips.

"Save some for the wedding night, won't you?”

Daemon growled lowly at that, taking your hand and keeping his lips to it. Rhaenyra smiled, giving you a kiss on the cheek before speaking once again. “Come, my dear, we must get you ready for the wedding.’’ She said. “A true wedding.’’ Daemon added. You followed the duo, passing servants and guards alike. They left you with a serving girl called Hilda, who seemed more than eager to help you. You entered the room, where the bed was allied with garments that you didn't recognize. “Hilda…where is my dress?’’

“It is on the bed, my lady.’’

The dress was unlike any you had seen. The color was slightly off white, with a beautiful headpiece laid at the top. You smiled.”They seem to be against tradition all together.’’ That sentiment alone let you know that the people you were marrying were far from the people you knew at court.

Passing talks and willful glances would now turn into something more. You were out of your brother's home and into a better one. Hilda assisted you in putting on the garment, as you then began to acknowledge the nerves that were building up.

"You needn't worry my lady…the prince and princess already fancy ya." Hilda comforted, which you appreciated more than you let on. Soon, it was time to head to the ceremony. You wished that your father had been here, ready to give you away as you both secretly laughed at the very idea of you getting married.

But seeing the two of them there, with such love and affection in their eyes, the fear died.

A drink from the chalice.

A swipe on the lip.

Rhaenyra kissed you gently, only to be followed by Daemon, who was far more ferocious.

The house of the Dragon and the house of the Stag were united, under the same banner of ancestors long past. The feast commenced not long thereafter, with food and drink laid around as allies and friends gathered to celebrate. Daemon sat to your right, Rhaenyra to your left and their brood scattered around you. While Jacaerys was a talker, the younger boy Lucersy took a moment to warm up to you. Yet, once he did, he was beyond sweet.

Joffrey was too busy running and playing with the other children. That made you smile.

Your gaze danced about, taking in your new home. Now you were truly…

…a doe among dragons.

Before him laid many intricate trays of food, goblets filled from time to time. Lord Stark dare not say it, but he has begun to miss the taste of northern food. The days were long and warm, and their time in King's Landing was etching to a close. "Indeed she has, your grace. Perhaps a little too fast." The lord replied, his voice rather melancholic. King Viserys joined his friend back at the table.

"Allow me to congratulate you, dear friend. (Y/n) will make a fine Lady of Highgarden." Viserys said. "She has done her house proud, I don't expect any less from her." Lord Stark said, pridefully. Your brother would ascend and become lord of Winterfell, while your marriage and subsequent heirs would secure a great standing for house Stark. The North needed allies and while (F/n) knew that he had allies in Viserys's court, not to mention Viserys himself, a man didn't need to rely on friends.

Rumors abound in King's Landing and as Lord, (F/n) had to look out for his people and his family.

___

The histories speak of soulmates.

Those bounded by spirit, two souls that were meant to find one another. Maesters say this is nothing but an old wives tale now, used to give some hope to young girls who liked to think that they have a choice. But you chose to still believe it. To believe that the gods had created someone for you, someone that was meant to be with you and you with them. 

They even say the Conqueror and Queen Rhaenys were soulmates. Two souls…with nothing but destiny to keep them together. With millions of books hidden in your room back at Winterfell, you began to check your body for that faithful mark that was supposed to reveal your soulmate to you. As much as you wanted that, your heart couldn’t ignore its pining for the young princess that sat with you, her head placed gently on your lap. “What are you thinking?” Rhaenyra asked, smiling when you replied with a confused hum. “You grow silent when you are thinking.’’ She clarified and you were flattered that she noticed such a thing. 

“I was simply…admiring the Godswood.’’ You said, albeit untruthfully. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes gently, rising to her feet. “It’s leaves are lovely this time of year, aren’t they?’’ She asked, taking a red leaf between her pointer finger and thumb. The leaf was soft, the crackle of autumn having long abandoned as the days moved into warm spring. Rhaenyra dared not say it, but it saddened her that you would soon leave. The news of your marriage spread like wildfire, maids and nobles alike commenting on the future Lady of Highgarden. While the Princess faked happiness, she wished that she was the one to marry you. Two princesses of Dragonstone, two queens of Westeros…the realms would sooner burn it all.

“Indeed they are, princess. I will come to miss it, once we leave.’’

Rhaenyra winced ever so slightly and while she hoped that you hadn’t seen it, you had. The manner itself was enough to make your heart go pitter patter in your chest, its beat growing irregular. The doubt settled soon thereafter. Rhaenyra was your friend, of course a friend was sad to see another go. It was not the love you wanted. “I’m sure Highgarden will have many beautiful gardens, House Tyrell pride themselves in that regard.” Rhaenyra said and the bitterness in her voice was not lost on either of you. 

Your eyes met, and the urge to cradle Rhaenyra’s head and kiss her was only growing. She was not known as the Realm’s Delight for nothing. Your eyes wondered from her heavenly face and onto your father, who was staring. Intently so. Despite his best efforts to ignore it, your father knew. Knew that you preferred women’s company in more ways than just friendships. It was the glint in your eyes when you spoke to Rhaenyra. He knew…that it was love. But as they say…

…duty is the death of love.

—

It had been years since you had stepped foot here.

The gates of Dragonstone greeted you like an old friend, the hinges old yet strong. Things…had changed. You are now the lady of Highgarden and your husband has opted to join you on your journey to see the Princess. By all accounts, Lord Tyrell was a good husband.

You both bonded over your lost love, the lord having taken comfort in you during the loss of his lover. You did the same, spending nights telling stories of your love and how your father chose security over your own happiness. 

You couldn't blame him and in a way, he was making sure that the choice of husband had as much of your influence as possible. You felt a hand take yours gently, making you smile. "She will be happy to see you…especially with recent developments." Your husband said, gently rubbing the back of your hand. "Yes…I do hope I am not the only one." You responded. Less than days after the birth of your son Lyonel, a mark had appeared on your hand. It was small at first, merely resembling a bite. Then, it grew into what appeared to be a small dragon. 

You would recognize the golden scales anywhere. The maesters, in their infinite wisdom, had once again been wrong. You knew that the mark was more than met the eye. You knew that a dragon would not grace your skin without any discernible reason. You and your husband were led toward the great hall, where Rhaenyra and prince Joffrey were. Word reached Highgarden and Winterfell that the Princess and heir had delivered three healthy sons, yet the webs of rumor did not invade your gardens and hand maids. The boy’s head was a dark brown, much like that of your native North, and his eyes lacked that Targaryen amethyst color. 

Such fuss, over such beautiful children. 

“Lord (H/n) and Lady (Y/n) Tyrell of Highgarden!’’ The guard announced. Right as those violet eyes met yours, you felt the breath being knocked out of you. As if it were possible, Rhaenyra looked even more beautiful. Before you could utter a word ,the Princess beckoned you forward. “It honors me to see you both. How long it has been, old friend.’’ She said and by the gods, her voice was silk personified. Her swollen belly didn’t go unnoticed, but you were too happy to care. Marriage had separated you both and it seemed that happier news was set to reunite you. “Indeed, princess.” You said, turning to your husband. “I don’t believe that you’ve met my husband.” You said, right as he bowed. “You honor our house with your call, princess.’’ 

“We were terribly sorry to hear of the King’s health.’’

Rhaenyra bit her tongue, not wishing to think back to the decrepit state that had taken over her father. To her, he was still himself, taking down stags and barking orders. Not that weak shell of a man that was more high than aware. The princess fought off every urge to kiss you, choosing to leave such things for when you are alone. Time has done you both good, with you having grown into your looks. Rhaenyra smiled and craned her head once your husband excused himself, seeing the knowing glance that passed through you. It was the same with her and Daemon. 

He took notice at her wedding to Laenor, stating Rhaenyra’s searching eyes. Eyes that searched for that brilliant (e/c) and that mane of (h/c) hair. Daemon, despite his jealousy, chose to comfort Rhaenyra in her affections, stating that it was normal to love women, should one genuinely love them. It didn't mean that Rhaenyra loved him any less, but you…you were different. 

You are Rhaenyra’s soulmate. 

The mark appeared after the birth of Jacaerys, an affair so heinous, Rhaenyra wished to forget it. But as soon as that babe was placed in her arms, she knew the pain was worth it. Once he was taken by the wet nurses, Rhaenyra took special notice of a mark on her shoulder. It looked like…a wolf. Confusion and concern came hand in hand, then Rhaenyra remembered. Remembering that day in the Godswood and your talk of soulmates. 

Void of other explanations, Rhaenyra knew that she had to see you…and who could deny a call from the Princess? Now, with you before her, the woman found herself at a loss. “I have missed you.’’ Rhaenyra said, breaking the silence. “As have I. We’ve both been…” your eyes dropped to her stomach, “...busy.’’ you concluded. “Your husband…is he good to you?’’ Her question caught you off guard, making a small grin fall upon your face. “He is as good as he can be…we…we both had little choice in our marriage.’’ You explained. Rhaenyra hummed in consideration. 

A silence passed, so heavy that Rhaenyra was sure she was going to crumble over the weight of it. She moved to place some distance between you, causing her hair to flow to her back, revealing her shoulder. Your eyes widened, as a gasp went past your lips. "Nyra…" you said, the nickname familiar on your tongue. The Princess moved to hide her shoulder immediately, but your hand gently stopped it. You took her hand into yours, and Rhaenyra swore that she could see fire in your eyes.

Looking down, it was were she saw it.

Your mark.

Syrax.

It…it looked like Syrax. 

"Nyra…you have the mark." You said. "It…it appeared right after Jacerys was born."

That had been years ago. Your brows furrowed. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"How could I, (Y/n)?" Rhaenyra countered. That day when she watched your father's ship disappearing on the horizon, knowing that someone else would soon call you wife…it was too much for the Princess to bear, let alone confront. "We both had duties to our fathers, I had enemies in court…I couldn't bear it if I were to cause your reputation harm-!"

"To hell with my reputation!" You interrupted, your eyes alight. "Rhaenyra I have been in love with you ever since we were girls…even before the mark…before all of this." You confessed. "My husband knows…he has always known.’’ You added. You moved more of Rhaenyra’s hair out of the way, before you placed a solid kiss onto her shoulder. Rhaenyra shuddered under your lips, feeling her skin grow hot. “I wanted to tell you…that night after Jacaerys’s birth, I almost sent a raven to you.’’ Rhaenyra confessed. She suspected that her correspondence had been tampered with, though Rhaenyra dare not speak of her suspicion. Not for lack of want, but rather a wish to keep the peace, fragile as it was. “I am here now, my love…if you would have me.’’ You breathed. Rhaenyra simply answered with a deep kiss, your bodies pulling close to one another.

Once you both pulled away, you saw a whole future in her eyes. You should have declared your love sooner, the pain of all that time lost not going dark on you. But, you could spend your time reminiscing or creating new memories, with the woman that you loved. “I love you, Rhaenyra…I always have.’’ YOu said it and the sweetness of those words made you feel euphoric. “I love you too, (Y/n)...forever and always.’’ She said. The two of you turned your gaze toward the horizon, seeing the sun peak through the mountains. 

The warmth of a new beginning was dawning. 

While Rhaenyra was to be Queen soon, you knew that you would never be considered Consort. Despite it all, there was a new chapter to be written, a new song to be sung…

…and yours would be the song of ice and fire.

But had you returned, you would be trapped and Lucerys maimed. 

Your mind ventured to your younger years, walking about the keep and learning more than just a few secrets. “I used to sneak to a small cove near the keep when i was a girl, if i remember correctly, the passage should be here somewhere.’’ You said. “What about Arrax?’’ Lucerys inquired, looking worriedly at his dragon. You looked to Arrax and then to the boy, “Tell him to fly over the second tower. The cove isn't far.’’ You instructed. Once Lucerys did as he was told, you spent a good few moments before your palm graced the outside of a slightly out stone. You grinned, a wave of relief washing over you as the stone wall pushed in. Wind brushed your soaked face, the tunnel presenting before you.

You couldn't help but smile. All those days of childhood were spent passing through this tunnel, hiding from the Septa's and your brother. It was an escape then and it was an escape now. Lucerys was made to walk in before you, you throwing one final glance behind you before you both walked in deeper. 

"What is this place?"

"It's an old tunnel I used to use when I was about your age. It leads to a small cove near the keep. Makes for a great escape route." You explained. "And Arrax will be alright?" Lucerys inquired. 

Ever the dotting rider.

You gave the boy a comforting smile.

"He will be, I swear it. Now come, we must go." You couldn't afford to drag your feet more than you already had. You needed to return to Dragonstone as soon as possible, lest you tempt the gods and have yourself trapped here. Lucerys remained quiet, though he could tell by your eagerness to leave and by the way your eyes refused to meet his, that you had been hurt deeply. 

Betrayal never comes from the enemy.

The heir of Driftmark knows not of what it’s like to have someone you love turn their back on you as your brother had. Never had someone demand that you abandon those you love in exchange for mercy. You prayed that he would never have to know such things. For all intents, Lucerys was your child as well. You had been around for the better part of his life and he was an important part of yours. The love you held for him was not only as Rhaenyra’s son, but as yours as well. 

He was a brother, a son and he would make a fine lord one day, no matter how vehemently he seemed to deny it. 

A sound echoed out of the tunnel, making you stop dead in your tracks. You stepped in front of Lucerys, right as a small spat of light greeted you. “Who goes there?’’ Lucerys called, the light only approaching closer and closer. “Dearest aunt, is that you?’’ Cassandra called, her face illuminated by the torch she held. Her mere presence was enough to calm your heart down, your body moving forward to embrace your niece. Despite the spectacle that occurred at court, Cassandra seemed rather unfazed. “It’s dangerous to be seen with us right now, Cassandra.’’ You said.

“I wanted to know you and the prince were safe…i had a raven sent to Dragonstone, the Queen will know your safe.’’

“Me and the prince are eternally grateful, dearest.’’ You said. You placed your hand on her cheek, smiling. “I had Arrax fly over the second tower, he will meet us there and we will leave.’’ You explained your plan as shortly as you could, ignoring the look of worry that washed over your nieces face. There was still the looming threat of Vhagar, a dragon so large, you often thought she took up most of the sky when she flew. 

And her rider was out for blood. 

The three of you continued forward, the only prevailing sound being the water passing through stones and small critters that have taken up residence in the tunnel. Soon, a gust of wind passed through, sending chills over your soaked bodies. “We must be close.’’ Lucerys said, squinting his eyes as he looked forward. You nodded, “It is to be admitted that these tunnels are better suited for summer rendezvous.’’ Cassandra said, earning a playful glance from you and a snort from Lucerys. Soon, you exited the tunnel and onto a small dock. 

The rain had subsided but thunder rumbled still. 

Lucerys began searching the skies for Arrax, his eyes jumping from cloud to cloud. Suddenly, the young prince felt something collide with his shoulder. The object was unfamiliar at first glance, all white and yellow in its color. Lucerys kept his eye trained on the falling debris, as horror enveloped his face like a spider’s web. 

These were the colors of Arrax’s scales…

So that meant-

The prince returned his gaze to the sky, where at the right moment, thunder illuminated a monstrous form, all wings and body. Vhagar descended from the sky, toward Lucerys. The boy stood frozen, his eyes wide cast as Cassandra's body collided with his, right as Vhagar descended down on the dock. Aemond dismounted his dragon, his face regarding you with chill distaste. He ignored the cries of Lucerys as he approached you. “Do not seek to claim you weren’t warned, my lady Baratheon.’’ Aemond said, outstretching a hand and seaking to yank you forward. Aemond backed up, hissing in pain as your dagger slashed at him. “You walk a dangerous road, my prince. Turn away now, before this turns into outright treason.’’

A deep chuckle escaped Aemond. True treason was being committed by you and that bastard he so vehemently wished to blind. No matter how unfit the second son thought his brother to be, Aemond would defend his claim. It was what his mother wanted and his mother will be done. Aemond took a tentative step forward, finding it rather amusing that you took one back. “Your brother has offered both you and your son sanctuary…’’ Aemond begins, taking another step forward.

You frowned, finding the very mention of Orys by this man repulsive. 

You had no future, even if you chose to stay. Orys would be outcast, maybe even declared a bastard. You were aware of the whispers in your home’s court. The Dragon’s Whore was what they liked to call you the most and as much as your brother would defend you, your son’s parentage would be like a constant wheat in a flowing garden. No matter how many times it would be dealt with, it would rear its ugly head again. 

“My place is in Dragonstone with my husband and my Queen.’’

“Such unwavering loyalty, wasted on a traitor like my sister.’’ Aemond said. “It is a true shame…” He said, before charging at you. His body collided into yours, sending you onto the ground. “(Y/n)!’’ Lucerys yelled as Cassandra held him back. You managed to yell out a few words, as your hands moved continuously against Aemond. “Get him out of here!” You yelled, right as Aemond’s hand landed on your cheek. A metallic taste graced your tongue, the taste bitter and nauseating. Aemond let a smile grace his face and it made you want to wipe it off his face as soon as possible. With as much force as you could muster, you spit the gathered blood into his good eye.

The prince reared back, yelling out. You rose to your feet, taking your dagger into your hands. A million thoughts raced through you. Aemond was not going to let you leave, that much was clear. You had no intention of killing the prince, as that would sink any chance that Rhaenyra had at peace. Despite your own growing doubt, there was not going to be bloodshed. At least not by you and certainly not now. You turned to look at Lucerys and Cassandra, walking to them. “Are you alright?’’ You asked Lucerys, who nodded adamantly. His heartbreak was pouring from his eyes, yet his effort to remain brave made your heart soar. 

Lucerys was prone to believe that he was an unfit leader, yet it was in times of great peril that he proved himself wrong. “(Y/n) watch out!’’ Cassandra hollered. Your body swiftly turned, only to be met with Aemond. His hand was raised, dagger gleaming and with a call of pure rage, he brought it down toward you. Your hand shot up too late and a piercing pain in your shoulder. Aemond had managed to jab your shoulder, as your dress was slowly soaked in red. “ARGH!’’ You exclaimed. Cassandra let out a horrified yelp, as Aemond pulled back his blade. “I should have been rid of you when I had the chance!’’ He said.

“Looks like we’re both disappointed then.’’ You grinned.

And almost as if the Gods had heard you, another roar arose from the clouds. 

Cassandra’s letter had reached Dragonstone.

Meleys claws jabbed at Vhagar, as Rhaenys stood atop the dragon proudly. The wave of relief that washed over you was indescribable. “Run! Now!’’ You ordered, Cassandra taking Lucerys by the hand and running toward Rhaenys. Rhaenys ordered Meleys to stop attacking Vhagar, as you finally put enough distance between you and the one eyed prince. You and the others waited for Rhaenys to turn back around, helping each other on the dragon before the beast soared into the sky. You ignored any inquiry from Rhaenys about your shoulder, promising to explain everything once you were safe. The dragon flew up and soon, you were watching Storm's End disappear behind the thick storm clouds. 

Your chest heaved in anxious breaths, eyes searching the clouds for any sign of Vhagar. Your eyes felt heavy. Your skin burned, taking to a pale color. Perhaps you had avoided an infection, yet sickness was beginning to take you. You didn’t hear Lucerys calling your name, you didn’t feel him touching your unharmed shoulder to get your attention.

Darkness greeted you, as Meleys soared through the wind.

—

Your body slowly began to seek consciousness, little pockets of light greeting you as you opened your eyes.

Your body laid against sheets of silk, a thick blanket laid over you. Looking down, your dress had been switched to your nightgown. "Look who's awake." You turned to see Daemon, who had long since been in the room with you. Orys was held in his arms, the babe reaching for you as soon as he noticed who his father was talking to. You attempted to rise, only to be ordered softly by Daemon to lay back down.

Orys was given to you, as you smiled slowly. "Oh my own heart…" you greeted, giving soft kisses to the boy. You managed to rise, leaning your body against the pillows and headboard. Daemon sat vigilant next to you, your hands intertwined. "You frightened me…" Daemon admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. You hadn't questioned it, knowing that this side of your husband was for only you and Rhaenyra to see.

"I do apologize…we didn't think it would end as it did.."

"From what Lucerys has told me, you were quite the defender of our house."

"I only did what I knew to be right, dear husband." You chuckled, recognizing the teasing in his voice. Daemon smiled, kissing your forehead. "You make me proud, little doe." He said, "And it makes me happy to tell you that we have picked an egg for Orys." 

"Already?"

"Yes. Syrax has offered plenty in her clutch and the dragon masters were keen on helping." Daemon replied. Your eyes looked on lovingly to Orys, who was too busy trying to eat his hands. It seemed so odd to think that he might ride a dragon someday. "He will be a fierce rider, I'm sure of it." Daemon praised, ruffling his son's hair.

"Where is Rhaenyra?" 

“She’s in the throne room…assessing our advantages.’’

“So…the throne has really been usurped?’’

Daemon placed a kiss on your hand, his anger shining through for that moment. That alone confirmed all your worst fears. It was odd, you thought. Despite all that happened in Storm’s End, you had still hoped it was all a bad dream. But the Gods would not be so kind. Arrax was dead, Lucerys was left dragonless and Cassandra now dared not return to her family. Her even helping you was an act of treason to her house and her king. “Otto Hightower paid a most gracious visit to us, trying to make us kneel.’’ Daemon said. “Offered that he take Orys to Old Town, I told him i’d rather feed him to Caraxes then let them corrupt his mind.’’

“Daemon.’’

“I know you are strong enough to handle such things, (Y/n). Harsh times are on the horizon.” Daemon admonished. With a stiff sigh, you nodded. The door to your chambers opened, Lucerys and Rhaenyra walking in. Rhaenya brandished her father’s crown with pride, as she walked at a decent speed to you. She had an image to uphold, you knew that. But even that wasn’t enough to hide her relief. “I’m so happy you’re awake!’’ Lucerys called, jumping on the bed and pulling you into an embrace. “Lucerys, take caution! Her shoulder hasn’t healed yet!’’ Rhaenyra chastised. The prince cringed as he pulled away, giving you an apologetic smile. Rhaenyra placed a hand on your head.

“Aemond will pay for harming you, I swear it.’’ She said, her voice heavy in determination. “Vengeance can wait, my love. We must first know who our allies are.’’ You said. “Alas, my brother has made his position clear.’’ You breathed. Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a look. Borros had attempted to keep you in Storm’s End without your permission and has chosen to support a usurper over you, his own flesh and blood. Daemon knew a thing or two about brothers and Rhaenyra could only imagine what this betrayal was doing to you. If there was a way for Daemon to sway your brother, to make him see reason, perhaps he would have taken it. 

Perhaps he would spare the stag from the dragon’s fire.

Or maybe he would end his miserable life, for even daring to take you away. 

The day was spent with intermediate visits to you, Lucerys and Rhaenyra being at your side more often than not. Arrax’s death had its toll and Lucerys would take some time to even warm up to the idea of getting another dragon.``I’d like to instruct Orys…when the time comes.’’ He said, his baby brother sleeping in his arms. “I think he would quite like that.’’ Rhaenyra agreed. “Yes, yes he would.’’ You added, smiling. “Lucerys…you were very brave…I don’t think we would have gotten out if it wasn’t for you.’’ You said, making both Rhaenyra and Lucerys grin. “He is my brave boy, after all.’’ The Queen admonished with pride. Rhaenyra then turned to you, inching closer until your foreheads were touching. “I must go…will you be alright-?’’

“Rhaenyra, go. You’ve gone more than enough.’’

The Queen exited, only to be met with Daemon, who stood vigil by your door. 

“I take it immediate action is to be taken?’’

“Alicent has made it clear that war is what she and my brother want…” Rhaenyra sighed, taking steps forward. This was bigger than Rhaenyra ever thought it to be. She found herself wondering what her father would do. Would he defend you? Would he punish any of those who dared betray their oath? It was foolish to dwell on the dead, that was true, but Viserys the Peaceful was nothing if he wasn’t wise. Rhaenyra and Daemon walked side by side, a silence between them. Then, Rhaenyra spoke. 

“Let it be known, that Rhaenyra Targeryen made every effort to avoid bloodshed and that it was Alicent Hightower, who refused.’’

Then the storm broke…and the dragons danced.

Your mother had a way of teaching you things. Through her teachings of sewing, singing, and dancing, she showed you the truth of the realm. Your house was a vassal of House Lannister, though considerably less rich.

Your father was obsessed with reclaiming your house's former glory. He hounded your mother till she gave him a son and when she did, you ceased to exist to him. Your brother was his everything, while you were a mare to be sold to the next lord that offers an alliance. Your mother spoke of the world weeping, she spoke of grief and heartache as if they were old friends.

Little did you know that when she spoke to you of these things, the Stranger was steadily watching. And your mother planned to join him soon. You were shipped off to King's Landing before you could see her one last time.

A raven came later, your father informing you that you were to stick to your duties to the Princess Rhaenyra. Each word was laced with an unfatherly like vitriol.

Duty above all else.

Duty before getting to say goodbye to your mother.

You wondered if that was one of the reasons that you now laid on the bed, Rhaenyra on top of you with her head against your heart. Your beating heart brought an unexplainable comfort to the Princess, especially in recent times. Daemon had become distant and her father's health was worsening by the day. Not to mention the ever cemented hostility between the Princess of Dragonstone and the Green Queen.

Alicent had met you, having welcomed your father when the procession brought you to King's Landing. You came to Dragonstone soon thereafter. Rhaenyra raised her head, her hand gliding gently over your cheek. "What are you thinking about, my little one?"

You smiled, the nickname being only one of many that Rhaenyra had given you. You sighed, wondering if you should tell her. "I was thinking of my mother, Rhaenyra…" you said. Rhaenyra physically stiffened, her knowing of what had transpired with her. It was one of the many things that brought the two of you together.

You remembered the first night you and her spoke, you remembered it well. It was the name day of Queen Aemma's death and it was the first time that you had seen the stout yet jovial Princess weep. You held her in your arms, hearing each breath and each sob that passed. During those endless moments, you remembered a defining truth.

The truth being that you never got to weep.

Never got to grieve.

Duty above all.

Rhaenyra proved you wrong, once she urged you to open up to her about your own life. She would like to know you better, she had said. Once you did share your own story of woe, Rhaenyra gently placed her hand on your cheek. It took everything in you not to melt into the touch.

"We aren't so different, after all. I think we shall be great friends."

"I do hope so, princess."

And as if the gods had themselves intervened, you and Rhaenyra fell in love. To others she was stern, fair yet serious. Due to the nature of your relationship, you both agreed to keep it secret, Rhaenyra wishing to keep you safe more than anything else. She had seen it herself, how rumors of lovers chased Laenor, practically stripping him of every ounce of manhood he possessed. The realm had a way of doing things, and by that way…love, sex and marriage were to be between men and women.

You and Rhaenyra were going against everything the Citadel taught. You had shared each other's bed, Rhaenyra sneaking into the handmaiden's quarters before returning to her own. It gave a rush like no other, and you found yourself becoming more fond of the nights rather than days.

You relished in the solace the night brought you, for you know that as soon dawn began to titter in ], Rhaenyra would have to return to being her position. It hurt you more than you allowed yourself to admit. Hearing the servants and guards gossip was one thing, that much you could take. But passing Rhaenyra and not being able to touch her, not being able to feel her…it ripped your soul apart. Her court and advisors seemed to be pushing her toward securing more alliances, as Prince Daemon volunteered many ideas and many of his men.

To Daemon, he was preparing for the worst.

Through your duties, you observed your love silently.

No frown or sneer escaped you, your heart aching to reach out and comfort your lover. The rising halls of Dragonstone kept you under their watchful eye, as your body moved from hall to hall. The council meeting had concluded and one of the other maids had informed you that Princess Rhaenyra had requested you at her chambers.

You concealed your excitement as you walked through the door, only to feel it be quickly shut and your body pushed against the door. A soft gasp escaped you, as Rhaenyra crashed her lips onto yours. She never failed to leave you breathless, but the passion was hiding a rising fury.

You gently pull away, smirking when Rhaenyra apologized. “You shouldn't apologize, my love…but you are troubled.” You said.

“Quite the observant one, perzitsos."

“Only for the people I care about.’’

Rhaenyra pecked your lips gently, walking toward her balcony. The wind was gentle and you could hear the ocean waves below you. The smell of salt was strong yet not unbearable. You hesitated, only walking outside when Rhaenyra assured you that you would not be seen. You took a seat, mindful of it before you did so. “Are you going to tell me what ails you?’’ You pressured.

‘’Daemon believes that my throne is in…jeopardy.’’

You couldn't say you were surprised. Rhaenyra was the heir, hailed so by Viserys himself. The council and their houses had sworn their loyalty to the heir, House Hightower being among them. Other nobles soon followed, but with the birth of Aegon and Aemond later on, Rhaenyra was being sidelined more and more.

It made you recall your own childhood. The way you obeyed and did as you were told, just so he would look at you? Your brother had gotten the bulk of his affection and you could relate perhaps too well to Rhaenyra's predicament.

"The noble houses swore their loyalty to you, my love. My house did too."

"That does little to soothe me. When men are faced with unwanted change, oaths become rather fickle." Rhaenyra mused, as her fingers drew small patterns across your skin. One could only imagine the pressure that she must be feeling. Your own troubles seemed small compared to the weight of the crown.

"You know I will be at your side, right? From this day…till the end of my days."

The look Rhaenyra gave you could only be described as wanton, for even a dragon needed that treasure, to cherish and to keep. "You needn't declare yourself to me, perzitsos." Rhaenyra said, her lips meeting yours in a kiss. It is fervent and passionate, hands roaming and grabbing. The night was young and you could tell that neither of you were willing to let go just yet.

The princess pulled away for just a moment, smiling as she whispered words of love and devotion to you.

"I love you, Nyra."

"And I you, little one."

"From this day?"

"Till the end of my days."

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You turned to Daemon, who betrayed no emotion. You took his hand into yours, almost in a way to make him come with you. But his eyes told you everything.

Laena had died the same way…Daemon couldn't bear to see Rhaenyra suffer the same way. It hadn't been long since the news reached you. That King Viserys the Peaceful had finally passed and that Aegon had usurped the throne. You couldn't tell which hurt more, the fact that Rhaenyra had lost her throne or the fact that she was losing a child because of it.

Daemon leaned into your ear, whispering a silent "Go." before you were out of the throne room and out into the hall. You turned a corner, only to be met by Lucerys. "Sweet boy, how is she?" You asked, hands gently placed on his cheek. "Screaming." He answered, eyes downcast. "Is she going to-?".

"No, no sweet boy. Your mother is strong, she'll make it through." You said, right as another scream echoed through the hall. You barely flinched, while Lucerys turned his back to the noise. "Luke, go find Orys. I'm sure he'll be glad to see his big brother. Ser Brandon, go with him." 

"My lady-"

You gave the knight a quick look, before he followed the young prince. Daemon and you had welcomed a boy into the world but a year ago and young Orys had been a joy upon your life. Rhaenyra and her boys loved him as you loved her children.

You walked and walked, the screaming only growing louder. You reached the room, opening the door and seeing the handmaids crowding around Rhaenyra. "Get off! Get off!" Rhaenyra screamed, her voice so broken it was enough to bring you near tears. Your eyes caught sight of Jacaerys, who was stoic in his disposition. Ever the eldest son, trying to be brave for his mother. As the hand maids and nurses begged Rhaenyra to let them help, you walked to Jacaerys, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?’’ You asked, albeit thinking it was a rather foolish question.

The dragon prince simply nodded. 

“Listen to me…Daemon is already preparing for the worst but what is certain for now is that our House has been betrayed.” You spoke, Jacaerys looking onto you with wide eyes. “I must stay with your mother…will you make sure that Daemon doesn't do anything rash?’’ You inquired. “Yes, I will’’ the prince answered, turning his heel to leave. 

“Jace…jace…Jacaerys!’’ Rhaenyra grunted through clenched teeth. Both you and Jacaerys stopped. Rhaenyra stooped against the chair, her gown long soaked through in a crimson color. The sight alone made you sick. The Princess’s skin was coated in a thin sheet of sweat, her hair damp. “Whatever claim remains to me you are now its heir. Not is to be done without my command.’’ She sighed, eyes following her eldest until he disappeared from sight. You and the servants sat in watch, as soon Rhaenyra cradled a dead babe in her hands. You approached slowly, face downturned and eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

“Oh my love…’’

—

You leaned against the wall, sighing as you allowed yourself a moment's respite. 

“You have handled things well, (Y/N).’’

“Princess Rhaenys, you scared the wits out of me.’’ You said, causing the Lady of Driftmark to laugh slightly. “Thank you…it's been a difficult day.’’ You said. “That it has.’’ Rhaenys responded. “How is she?’’

“Rhaenyra is in good health but her child…is with the Gods now.” You informed, a silence passing over the both of you. Rhaenys looked upon you with a fondness in her eye. It seemed that you had taken after your father, with your hair and supportive nature. “A war is on the horizon, (Y/n)...House Baratheon has yet to declare any allegiances-”

“My allegiance is to Rhaenyra and Rhaenyra alone.’’ You quipped, defensively. While the Baratheons were your blood, your son, your wife, your husband…they mattered more. Borros had done a good thing by letting you marry them. He had unknowingly given you something to fight for, someone to love. Your answer seemed to satisfy the woman, who simply nodded.

"Your father would be proud of you, (Y/n)." 

Her words pulled the grief from you, your eyes overflowing with tears. Small rivers formed on your cheeks, as a small whimper escaped you. Rhaenys embraced you for a moment. Rhaenyra reminded her too much of Laena and her death had left an irreversible void in the Queen Who Never Was. Yet, holding you as you wept, Rhaenys found a momentary peace. Your father was kind to her, backed her claim to the Throne even. 

Hells, he might have even pushed you to become the Lady of Storm's End. Soon, you composed yourself, clearing your throat. "I apologize, Princess Rhaenys. That was rather uncouth of me." You said, laughing off your embarrassment. "A moment's weakness does no harm in the presence of a friend. But hard times are coming, (Y/n). A doe could seldom survive it." Rhaenys warned. 

"Then a doe I shall cease to be."

"My lady." Ser Brandon called, his voice interrupting the both of you.

"What is it, Ser Brandon?"

"A raven ma'am, from Storm's End." He said. You and Rhaenys exchanged looks. Rhaenys's expression was one of bewilderment, as even you failed to understand the weight of the words. "I shall be right with you. Princess Rhaenys." You curtised, avoiding her gaze as she watched you walk off.

Once you were further enough, you turned to See Brandon. "What is the meaning of this, Ser Brandon?" 

"A raven ma'am. I was instructing the young Prince Lucerys on sword fighting when it landed." 

"And what of Orys?"

"He is with the Prince now." Ser Brandon informed, moving before you and opening the door to your chambers. Lucerys sat on the bed, Orys perched next to him as he read to him from one of the many books on the shelf. Orys noticed you almost immediately, his small hands reaching for you. You picked the boy up, kissing his cheek. "Orys, my own heart." You smiled, before ruffling Lucerys's hair. "I thank you for watching him, sweet boy. Your mother is alright." You informed him.

"The news gladdens me. He's gotten better, the last time we read together." Lucerys spoke, his tone nothing short of loving toward Orys. The babe was mindlessly babbling, reaching out for his brother and for you at the same time. "Fussy boy." You laughed. It was in moments like these that you found the most gratitude. Lucerys had been a companion to you since the day you married his mother.

He was shy at first but once he warmed up, he confided in you about many things. 

Like his worth as heir to Driftmark.

"You have a good heart, Luke. That is a rare thing." You had told him, "And you have people backing you. You think Rhaenyra taught herself everything?" You reasoned, winning a small grin from the boy.  

Ser Brandon came to you with the message, pulling you away from Lucerys and Orys. "Luke, do be a dear and watch Orys, just for another moment." You said, giving babe to his brother who nodded eagerly. Through the fussing of your son, he and Luke exited the room. "It hasn't been opened." You observed.

"I thought it best that you be the first to read it, my lady. The letter doesn't bear the sigil of your brother…" Ser Brandon admonished. That could only mean that Borros hadn't sent the letter. You returned to it, rolling it out and quickly reading it. 

"Dearest aunt, news has reached Storm's End of the King's death and I fear the news I bring is not good. Father has yet to declare his side but he has made his favor known. I fear for you and the Princess but I saw it best to tell you. Please, keep yourself and my little cousin safe, I hear he has grown a lot this past year.  

                                                           All my love,

                                                              Cassandra."

The parchment fell from your hands, gliding on the wind before it landed silently on the floor. Your heart was beating in your ears and your mind was spiraling in ways you couldn't comprehend. If what your niece says is true…then…

"Ser Brandon…not a word of this to my wife or husband. They've enough hardships on this day." You ordered, oddly calm. "My lady, I don't think it would be wise to keep-"

"That is an order, Ser Brandon."

The knight relented.

"Yes, my lady."

—

"My lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale shall not turn coat against their own kin." Rhaenyra admonished, as Daemon continued to relay their plans to the Queen. You watched from the side, fiddling with your rings. You couldn't deny the pride that filled your chest, seeing Rhaenyra wear her father's crown. She was the one that was promised, not her uncouth brother.

Yet, fear gripped you.

You had to get to Storm's End. 

Perhaps a familiar face shall sway your brother, as you had not seen one another for quite some time. It wasn't only your honor on the line, but that of your father's as well.

Lord Boremund Baratheon bent the knee to Rhaenyra and Baratheons were nothing if not honorable. You walked over to the table, taking one of the many pieces and placing it just south of Storm's End. "House Tarth has stayed loyal to my father for a long time. If we control the Straits of Tarth, we'll have control over the mainland around Shipbreaker Bay." You said, eyes catching Daemon for a moment.

His face was laden in a prideful smirk, as Rhaenyra grinned. It wasn't often that you involved yourself so directly. "Among the other houses, I can only speak for Penrose and Selmy." You added. "But the Eyrie, Storm's End and Winterfell should be our main priority." You said.

"I'll prepare the ravens, your Grace." 

"We should bear those messages." Jacaerys said, his voice eliciting shock within you. Rhaenyra acknowledged her son, silently telling him to continue. "Dragons fly faster than ravens, and they're more convincing." And with one final look, the Heir to the Iron Throne breathed.

"Send us." 

"Very well…Prince Jacaerys shall fly to the Eyrie where my mother's cousin, Lady Jeyne, is now the lady of the Vale. Then, he shall proceed to the North. As for the Prince Lucerys, he shall fly to Storm's End."

"Lucerys will do no such thing."

The room fell silent, your voice raised in a rare display of defiance. Both princes gave you startling stares, as Daemon's voice rang out. "Give us the room." 

And then there were three.

"Have you lost your mind, (Y/n)?"

"Have I? It is to my understanding that the lord of House Baratheon is my brother." You countered. "Perhaps our dear wife has a point, your grace." Daemon said, surprising the both of you. “Borros is a man that seeks power. Should he be swayed, we will have to prove our strength.’’ Daemon reasoned. “And sending (Y/n) is a show of this strength?’’ Rhaenyra countered.

 Perhaps it was her own mind still reeling from the loss of her daughter and father, but Rhaenyra was very adamant about not letting you leave the keep at all. You were too precious, too cherished.

And Rhaenyra couldn't bear the idea of Orys growing up without you either. 

"Nyra-your grace, I believe a familiar face will help a great deal. Should the prince Lucerys have to send the message, let me accompany him." You said. "The court at Storm's End will be honored by the presence of a Prince and by one of their own. We will show them that you are the right decision.” You concluded, your voice carrying a sense of wisdom. 

You could say that the hunter finally slew the doe. 

Truth be told, Daemon wasn't keen on the idea either. He too had already lost so much, and losing you would just be the final step into awaiting madness. Yet, Rhaenyra’s claim was being challenged. That alone placed you at much greater danger than a simple diplomatic excursion. Daemon was now behind you, the distance far enough to still be intimate. He took a moment to drink in your features, how your hair fell over your shoulders and how your body was adorned with the colors of his house. His eyes fell on your hands, where your one gold ring wrapped around your finger. 

“Alright…but you are to go as a messenger, not a warrior.’’ Rhaenyra relented and the relief that washed over you was indescribable. Lucerys would be glad for the company, you were sure. 

Rhaenyra excused herself, choosing to check on the preparations. You turned to Daemon, who rested his forehead against yours. A silent plea, a silent order for you to return to him. To return to Rhaenyra. “Once this is over, we will live as we deserve.’’ He whispered, his voice stern yet you could sense the fear in them. Your hand was gently placed on his neck. “I pray for it, Daemon. I really do. I can trust you will keep Orys occupied?’’ You inquired, more jokingly than anything else. Daemon smirked, taking your hand. “I believe it is time for our little one to have a dragon of his own.’’ Daemon proposed. Your talk was interrupted, a servant notifying you that it was time. 

“I would advise caution, little doe. Storms are rather unpredictable, aren’t they?’’

“Tis I who was born during one, dear husband. Lest you forget whom you asked for my hand.’’

You and Daemon exchanged goodbyes, sharing a long and feverish kiss before you departed. 

—

The sky was decorated with parting clouds, your form approaching Rhaenyra as she had one final talk with her sons. You gazed down at your ring, the stag staring right back at you. ‘Gods, should you hear me…let it not be true. Let my brother choose me.’ you thought wordlessly, approaching your wife. Lucerys nodded his head to you, as you smiled and stood next to the boy. “Storm’s End is a short flight from here, you shall return swiftly. Remember, you two come as messengers, not warriors.’’

“Yes mother-your grace.’’

“We'll be fine, my Queen. I suspect my brother shall be happy to see me." You said, earning a smile from Rhaenyra. As Lucerys took to preparing Arax, in the rare moment of privacy, Rhaenyra placed a kiss on your forehead. "If anything happens-"

"We'll be alright, Nyra. Storm's End is my home, no one will hurt me there." 

That seemed to bring some comfort to the queen, as her hold on you lightened. “We will return with news before the day is done. I swear it.’’

With one final goodbye, you and Lucerys soared through the clouds. 

—

“We should head inside, storms rolling in.’’ You warned, dismounting Arrax, who growled lowly. This confused both you and Lucerys. Your eyes looked up, right as a clap of lightning illuminated a beast so large, you felt your heart drop.

Vhagar.

What was Vhagar doing here? 

“What is Vhagar doing here?”Lucerys inquired, reading your mind almost perfectly. “I don’t know. Come, we must head inside.’’ You said, urging the young prince forward, as your eyes stayed on the massive beast until she was no longer in sight. 

The Keep was darker than you remembered.

The once torch lit halls were now scarce of light, sept for the guards. You walked behind Lucerys, as passing servants and guards bowed to you. Some even shared looks with one another, of worry and curiosity alike. Lucerys too took his surroundings, the keep unlike anything you had described. Truth be told, the sky had grayed and spats of lightning came from time to time, bathing the keep in white light before vanishing again. 

The two of you approached the hall, where the guards opened the large door. “Prince Lucerys Velaryon, son of Princess Rhaenyra and the lady (Y/n) Baratheon.’’ The court grew silent, your brother stopped in his chair as he watched you and Lucerys approach. Borros took your form, clad in Targaryen colors, yet one lone gold ring on your right finger. He regarded you quietly, like a begrudging father would a disobedient child. At the corner of your eye, you caught sight of a rather familiar  figure. Prince Aemond stood next to your niece, engaged in a rather timid looking conversation. Cassandra gave you a warm grin. 

“Lord Borros, we’ve brought you a message from my mother. The Queen.’’ 

“Yet earlier this day I received an envoy from the King. Which is it? A Queen or a King?’’ Borros bellowed. “House Baratheon bent the knee to Rhaenyra Targaryen all those years ago, or have you forgotten?’’ You piped up, causing an array of gasps to echo the hall.  Your brother shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as if he was hoping to not have to engage you. “Boy…what is your message?’’ He asked. You raised the letter to a guard, right when your brother called for the maester. As Borros took to the letter, Aemond gave both you and Lucerys his complete and utter attention. He gazed upon Lucerys with a hidden intent, which only made you wish to cloak the boy from his line of vision. 

“Aside from the reminder of my dearest sister, the king Aegon came with an offer. So boy, which one of my daughters shall you choose to wed?’’ Borros offered, gazing at Maris, Ellyn and Floris. Such a proposal brought you back to your younger years, when Daemon had asked for your hand. Lucerys admonished that he had already been betrothed, something that apparently upset your brother. “So you come here, parading my family and yet you are empty handed?’’ He inquired. 

“We’ve come in the hope that you would honor our father, brother.’’ You said, ignoring the lump that rose in your throat. There was only one way this could have gone now. “Our father is dead, sister. And his oath means little when the fate of our house is at stake.’’ Borros said. “Come home, the King has decreed that your marriage to Daemon be annulled, you and your son shall be welcomed here, sister.’’ He said. The words became a heavy weight on your heart. It broke you to see your brother to be so adamant about supporting Aegon. He was always against a woman holding such a position as Rhaenyra.

 Perhaps, should fate be cruel, the choice to stay here would have been the smart one. But you would rather die a thousand deaths then betray Rhaenyra and Daemon. 

“We shall take your message to the Queen, my lord.’’ You said, haste shielding your heart break. You and Lucerys turned to leave, before a voice stopped you dead in your tracks. 

“Wait.’’ Spoke Prince Aemond.  “My Lady Baratheon…my lord Strong.’’ He said, his purpose as clear as day. Your brother was now on his feet. “Did you really think you could fly around the realm, trying to steal my brothers throne?’’ Aemond required, taking short yet tactful steps toward the both of you. “I’m not going to fight you.’’ Lucerys said. “A fight would not be an issue.’’ Aemond spoke, gaze jumping to you before going back to Lucerys. The Prince reached for his eyepatch, taking it off and revealing a sapphire wedged into the socket. The sight shocked most of the court, Cassandra stepping away. “I want you to cut out your eye.’’ He said. “One will serve, I will not blind you.’’ He continued, brandishing a  dagger and throwing it at Lucerys’s feet. “I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.’’

You took a step toward the boy, only for Aemond to raise his hand. “I would advise you to step aside, my lady. Lest you wish to suffer the same fate.’’ He threatened and while that did frighten you, your stance remained still. “Perhaps I shall make a gift of your eyes as well…’’ Aemond uttered. “We will do no such thing, my prince.” You rejected. A silence passed, a swift sigh releasing from Aemond. “Then you are a craven as well as a whore.’’ He said. 

“Not here!’’ Borros bellowed.

“GIVE ME YOUR EYE OR I SHALL TAKE IT, BASTARD!’’ Aemond yelled, charging both you and Lucerys. “Not in my hall!’’ Borros yelled once more, “They came as envoys, not warriors. Take prince Lucerys back to his dragon. You, sister, are to remain here.’’ Borros said suddenly. Your brows rose in confusion, right when a guard seized you by the arm. "Brother, what is the meaning of this?"

"This is for your own good, sister."

The guard hauled you forward, his grip painful and unforgiving. You heard Lucerys's voice call to you. After what had just happened, you knew that you couldn't let him go back to Rhaenyra alone. Aemond Targeryen was many things, but he wasn't a man to let a grudge go. You pride yourself out of his grip, moving to take Lucerys by the hand.

"Come, we must leave now!" 

You cast one final glance at your brother, who called the guards off. You had made your allegiance known…and may the Gods be with you.

For your brother won't be.

Such rain was rare, despite the summer season having only rushed in. There was a heat in the air, coming hand in hand with the breeze of the rain. Viserys moved closer, his hand going to your shoulder.

He had a smile that you could only describe as child like. That was one of the many things about you adored about him. His kindness, his patience not only for you but for your people as well. You made each other better, yet these quiet moments, where there were no orders to be given, no ''your grace's" and curtsies, where you were simply (Y/n) and Viserys, were moments you cherished the most.

By all accounts, you had been lucky in your marriage.

Viserys was honorable and good.

Some men checked their wives with cruelty and Viserys would never use cruelty.

He was as good to you as he could be.

You were the best thing to ever happen to him. When Jahaerys called the great council, rumors' sprung that the council had already decided on their ruler. A young Viserys, deceitful in his calmness, clung to you for comfort. You were pregnant at the time, your hand on your swollen belly as the old King announced your husband as King and subsequently, you as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Both you and Viserys recalled gazing at your husband's cousin, seeing nothing but a stone façade.

With being queen, came other responsibilities.

With you already expecting a babe, that babe was expected to be heir.

Holding your Rhaenyra in your arms, her small body kicking and screaming, was enough to make your heart soar. Despite your own happiness, the disappointment of a girl was no lost on you or your husband. Viserys chose to celebrate his healthy child, gently whispering to you once he entered the birthing room.

He looked close to tears as he held Rhaenyra.

"Worry not, my love. We will have other children.''

"She's beautiful, Viserys.''

"Just like her mother.'' He agreed, gently cooing at the babe in his arms, ignoring the way you jumped to change the subject. Now here you were, years later, gazing at the rain together.

"I think it best to turn in for the night. It won't let up till the morrow, I'm sure.'' You said, turning away as another clap of lightning followed. Viserys followed, smiling gently. "It seems the gods are keen on finishing their work at Storm's End.'' He chuckled. "Let us pray that Lord Boremund keeps his defenses as high as his pride then.'' You countered, a short silence following you as you and Viserys locked eyes.

Bouts of high laughter followed, you practically falling over on the bed. "A queen should not speak so ill of her fellow noblemen.'' The Targaryen king chastised through heaving laughter. You grinned, catching your breath. Now, you both laid in bed, ready to let sweet sleep take you.

The storm raged and raged well into the night. Some knights could be heard shuffling below the balcony, making sure that things didn't blow away with the wind. Your dragons were secure in their pit and from what the Septa told you, Rhaenyra was put to bed long before. As you and Viserys slept, the sound of your opening chamber door went unheard.

Small feet shuffled under simple night clothes, Rhaenyra's hair being done in a small braid. She had made you promise to put flowers in her hair when it got longer. Rhaenyra pushed her small body on the bed, finding that you and Viserys were laying rather close to one another.

Still, the princess walked up and wiggled her way between you. Viserys was the first to wake, Rhaenyra stirring having been enough to do so. At first, he simply stared at his daughter, a sleepy grin making it's way to his face.

Rhaenyra didn't notice him until he chuckled, Viserys's hand going to her back. "To what do we owe the visit, my sweet girl?"

"Papa, the thunder's scary!"

Just then, the light of a bolt illuminated the dark room, followed by the tell tale rumble that sent Rhaenyra under the covers. Viserys looked over to your rising form, your face not one of annoyance but amusement. You lifted the blanket, being greeted by your seven year old daughter. "There's nothing to be frightened of my love." You said, voice heavy from sleep.

"But mama, its really loud." Rhaenyra countered, holding the blanket over her still. "That will pass, my dove. All you need to do is think of nice things." You expressed, gently combing through her hair. "Like what?" She asked, all doe eyes as she looked at both you and Viserys. Your (e/c) eyes met your husband, who immediately knew what you spoke of.

"Your mother and I wish to show you something, my girl. Papa will return in a moment."

You got Rhaenyra comfy, dismissing the SEPTA's who came and asked if you wished for the Princess to be returned to her bed. "Mama, where is papa?" Rhaenyra questioned, her mind seemingly concentrating on everything but the storm. "He will come back soon, my darling. Feeling better?"

Rhaenyra answered with a nod.

You took to tickling her sides, the room filling with the delighted giggles of Rhaenyra. Soon, Viserys returned with a book in his hands. He laid next to you, running a hand through his daughters hair as he opened up the book. The book told the story of the conquest, a story the entirety of Westeros knew by heart.

Rhaenyra's face lit up as she opened the pages,eyes skimming over all the familiar pictures and writing. She pointed to a page, one that showed Queen Visenya and her dragon, Vhagar. You smiled, sharing a knowing look with Viserys. "Mama, when I have a baby sister, I'm going to name her Visenya." Rhaenyra said, seemingly out of the blue.

Both you and Viserys's eyes widened in shock, her father gently asking her where she heard that she was going to have a baby sister. Rhaenyra simply shrugged her shoulders, before returning to the story. Viserys looks to you and grins. "Who does she take after, I wonder?"

"Oh hush."

Soon thereafter, the storm was completely forgotten by the young Princess, her small body laying fast asleep between her parents. You took the book away gently, as to not stirr her. Viserys sat vigil over her, as you went to place the book on a near by table. Rhaenyra's declaration was still fresh in your mind and the thought of falling pregnant once more made you shiver.

But Rhaenyra was not a difficult labour.

Maybe the next one won't by either.

"She's asleep, finally. The thunder seems to have stopped as well." Viserys observed, though the rain persisted. You were sure that you were going to be greeted by sun light tomorrow, so you took your place at Rhaenyra's right side, blowing the candle out.

"Viserys...she seems to want a sibling."

"We may speak of it tomorrow, my love. When we aren't dead tired."

That made you laugh. "If you say so, darling. Goodnight, Viserys."

"Goodnight, my love."

Men have gone to war for less.

You paced the halls, the Septa’s voice long forgotten behind you. As youngest and last daughter to the Hand of the King, there was a set role for you. A role that was to be fulfilled, no matter the cost. The cost of your wishes and wants was not one you were willing to pay. What good would sewing and singing do when the enemy has a dagger pressed to your throat?

It was foolish to entertain the rumors of war, that the fighting in the Stepstones would now need the crown’s intervention. You supposed that it was in your nature as a woman to think the worst. To think when you would become nothing more than a bargaining chip…or worse. You turned the corner, greeted by the lovely colors of the Godswood. A quick glance at your back and you were upon the tree, eyes stuck to the red and blooming leaves. “(Y/n) what are you doing here?’’ Alicent inquired, rising from her spot beneath the tree.

You silently cursed under your breath, slowly smiling at your older sister. She curled a brow, seemingly waiting for your answer. It was then that you noticed that Rhaenyra was with her as well. You bowed when the princess rose, making Rhaenyra laugh. “There is no need for the pleasantries, dear girl. We are all friends here.’’ She said, taking your hand into hers. Rhaenyra found it adorable that you avoided her eyes, to hide your heating face. “The lessons were growing rather boring, so i decided to leave.’’

“Father will-.’’

“I’ll deal with father, Alicent, when the time comes.’’

You spoke with such confidence, yet Alicent saw right through you. She was well aware that your father…wasn’t the kindest. Ever since the death of your mother, you and Alicent had lost the only love that you were certain was pure. Your mother loved you as you were and your father did everything in his power to change you. Alicent had taken to fill that role, choosing to take the blunt of your father’s cruel words so that they would never reach you. 

But your father always found a way. 

“I take it the Septa wasn’t too pleased with your exit.’’ Rhaenyra teased, raising her brows. You cast a glance at the book Alicent was holding, seeing the ripped page. A smirk played on your lips, “She won’t be pleased about the book either, I am sure.’’ You laughed, joined by the princess and even Alicent cracked a small smile. Right as you were about to speak, a calm yet foreboding voice interrupted you. 

“(Y/n).’’

Your gaze stayed averted, as Alicent took the brunt of your father’s stare. Otto Hightower was a stout man, standing tall and towering over most people. Oftentimes, you found your neck hurting from having looked up to your father, as he recounted all your wrongs and how you were shaming their house. Rhaenyra observed quietly. It was unnatural to see someone as wild as you shrivel up at the sight of someone, let alone your father. “Father.” you answered, bowing your head. Otto’s silence did nothing to soothe the void of worry in your heart. In fact, it only served to deepen it.

The Hand descended the steps, his face solemn. It would be foolish to act in any manner other than calm before the Princess, so with a firm bow, Otto gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “You would have to excuse us, princess. It would seem I am in need of a talk with my daughter.’’ Otto said, calmly. Rhaenyra didn't speak, choosing to let a silence pass before she spoke. “Don’t be too harsh, my Lord Hand. She is young.’’ She said, with that grin of hers. If your father was going to rebuttal, he bit it back.

It was that little twitch in his lip, that little sharpness that would glide over his eyes whenever the Princess spoke. 

Alicent and Rhaenyra watched as you were led away, possibly to be reprimanded and sent back to the Septa. 

"You like her."

"What?" 

"It's obvious." Alicent said, her face etched in a small smile. Had Rhaenyra really been that obvious? The Princess kicked at the ground, silently ashamed to have been figured out. Alicent shut the book, little bits of dust flying off the pages. The girl sat back under the tree, tapping a spot next to her. "Come sit." She said. 

Rhaenyra obliged, leaning against the bark of the tree. With fiddling fingers, Rhaenyra twisted her rings. "How long have you known?" Rhaenyra asked. "I suppose I've known since the beginning."

"Subtlety seems to be my weakness."

They both laugh.

"I am not angry, Rhaenyra. It…makes me happy." Alicent confesses, finally meeting the confused eye of the princess. "Because it is you." She clarified, gently taking Rhaenyra's hand. "I know my sister better than most…she's trusting…she's kind…she wants to live as others do." She said. 

Tradition had no place in your life and to Alicent, Rhaenyra was the way that you would get to live the way you wanted. Rhaenyra was a far better option than some smug, violent lord. "It gladdens me that you approve, dear friend. I wouldn't dream of going against you." Rhaenyra retorted, placing her other hand over Alicent. "If I may…are you going to tell her?"

It was a question made for more than one reason. Alicent knew that if Rhaenyra were to confess and the inevitably of you sharing that love ... .it would never come to be. 

Rumors already circled of the youngest Hightower. How her affections lie with the fair ladies of the court and not sons of mighty lords. Otto had put a stop to the rumors, making you meet with suitors more than once. All but one had been rebutted and rejected. To strengthen House Hightower in the Reach, a marriage was proposed.

A marriage between you and the heir apparent to House Tyrell.

It was funny, how a man so obsessed with the idea of his family wasn't even aware of his children's true nature. You thanked the Gods for it while Alicent felt her heart break for you. Rhaenyra pondered on her answer. Regardless of Alicent’s approval, the fear was ever lasting. Sometimes, even the people you consider to be your closest friends could turn on you. “I…I don’t know. It seems an impossible feat.’’ The Princess answered as honestly as she could. “My brother’s name day is on the morrow…my father is holding a celebration for his heir. I wish for you to be my guest.’’

“Alicent, I-’’

“Please, Rhaenyra. If not in life, let her know that she has a choice in love.’’

—

The night passed with little event and soon the sun shined against the dawning sky. You arose, quickly urged by your maids to dress. Gwayne’s name day celebration was to begin soon and it would be unsightly for his sister to not attend. Gwayne was a good man, something that you were sure was not inherited from your father. After mother died, Gwayne did his best to be there, but the responsibility ultimately fell on Alicent. He seemed so far away now. The heir of Otto Hightower seldom had time to spare for his little sister. 

“My lady…your hair?’’ One of the maids inquired, holding up an intricate piece of green ribbon and thread. You gazed at yourself through the looking glass perched by the vanity, seeing your (short/long/mid length) hair in all its wild glory. “No…I quite like it like this.’’ You said, smiling when the maid tried to dissuade you from your choice. They were simply doing as they were told, one could not fault them for such a thing. “It is alright. I’ll hold responsibility for whatever is to come.’’ You promised and the maid appeared to relax. 

Soon, you walked the halls of the Red Keep, passing guard and noble alike. Whispers tailed, low voices and side glances speaking of you in the hopes that you would not notice. You did and you cared not for their words. They would rather be the sheep, following a brazen shepherd. Just as you made it to the Godswood, you were greeted by the sight of Alicent. “You look wonderful sister.’’ She said, walking up to you. Her face fell ever so slightly at the sight of your hair. “Your hair-’’

“I was in need of a change.’’

“And what a change it is.’’ Rhaenyra said, appearing next to your sister. Your face erupted in a blush, her very presence sending you into a daze. Alicent nudged you slightly, reminding you that you were in the presence of the heir. You quickly bowed, thanking her and apologizing. “There is no need. I simply wished to relay that your hair looks rather wonderful.’’ Rhaenyra said, right as a servant passed and offered a round of the many appetizers made in your brother’s honor. 

You couldn't remember the last time someone had celebrated you this way. But then again, you weren’t a boy. Besides your wedding day, or the birth of your first child, there was never any reason to celebrate you. Women’s worth rested on what they could offer and not what they could do. It was the order of things. You took a handful of them, holding them gently as you and the others began to peruse around the garden. 

You ignored the stares of young lords, finding their attention quite appalling. “The lords of Westeros seem to be quite taken with you, (Y/n).’’ Rhaenyra said, voice lined with the slightest sinch of jealousy. You thought your ears were deceiving you, so you simply laughed. “They are taken with my name, Princess. Nothing more.’’ You said. Alicent rolled her eyes gently, regardless of her own agreement with your statement. The girl often found her own moments of rebellion within you, almost as if she was living through them. Alicent would see her dormant wishes in your trousers, in your wild hair and in your undying hatred for dresses. Perhaps, in another life…you were what she was supposed to be. 

“If you would excuse me sister, I have some servants to direct.’’ Alicent said, making you nod. Alicent and Rhaenyra shared a knowing look as the lady passed, green fabric dancing on the wind behind her. The sun had now reached its zenith, shining so brightly you were beginning to feel the first sheens of sweat grace your skin. Oh, how you hated dresses. “You seem uncomfortable. Is everything alright?’’ Rhaenyra asked. 

“Yes, all is well, princess. The heat is quite harsh, is all.’’

“Come, I know just the place.’’ She said, outstretching a hand toward you. You took a gander as to what would happen if you were to take her hand. Your father, ever set in his own traditions, would be furious. Today is a happy day and he couldn’t possibly be bothered to deal with his wayward daughter. Yet, this wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last time you made your father angry. 

And you couldn't bring yourself to care.

—

“What is this place?’’

“It’s a spot I found while I was escaping the Septa.’’ Rhaenyra responded, taking a seat on the stone bench. A tall willow tree casts a long shadow, shielding your body under its shade. The breeze that it brought was welcomed, as your skin began to shed the uncomfortable heat. “Something is bothering you, i can see it.’’

“I don’t know what you mean, Prin-’’

“Rhaenyra. Just Rhaenyra.’’ She quipped sharply. “It’s just us here.’’ She said it so sweetly you almost believed it. The Red Keep never truly left one alone. There were always eyes and sometimes…they stare back at you. “Please…tell me.’’ Rhaenyra pleaded and it saddened you beyond measure. You wanted to kiss that look away, until there was nothing but happiness on your princesses face. “My father has arranged my marriage.’’ You announced and it was as if boulders were thrown on Rhaenyra’s chest. Your face was enough to set her broken heart ablaze. “Oh…that…that is wonderful news.’’ 

“You needn’t lie. I have no use for pity.’’ You spat, feeling more angry than anything else. Once your father had pulled you away yesterday, he had been generous with offering every detail he had about the wedding. You were to head to Highgarden, where your family and the Tyrells would prepare and celebrate the union. Oldtown needed allies in Highgarden, so what better way to gain…than to give. The both of you had the same thought pass. 

Would it be better to speak now? Speak so that you would wallow in the undeniable truth that you would never, ever belong to one another.

Or would it be better to stay silent? Keep it inside and ponder on what could have been?

“What seems to hurt the most…is that he didn't even think to ask me.’’ The words passed your lips swiftly. Otto was still your father and you had prayed that he would at least think about asking his youngest and last child. Alas…you were wrong yet again. 

“(Y/n)-” Rhaenyra spoke, right as you interrupted. Once the words reached her ears, Rhaenyra felt her heart sink and soar at the same time. It was clear that in your mind…it was better to speak. “I wanted it to be you.’’ You said, breathily. Your eyes were lined with unshed tears, as shades of sun yellow came and went on your cheeks. The breeze moved as the silence passed, strands of your hair swaying slightly. “What are you saying ?’’ Rhaenyra asked, not to doubt you but to make you say it again. She wanted to be sure. “I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you.’’ You continued, voice laden with contempt. “I wanted you to see me.’’ You whispered.

“Oh, dear girl…how long i’ve waited to hear you speak those words.’’ 

Bewilderment passed your face, though Rhaenyra’s lips were already upon you. The feeling that erupted within you was nothing like you thought. Butterflies understated the euphoria that you were feeling, your skin erupting into goosebumps as your lips swapped kisses. You wanted to scream with joy. Once the two of you pulled away, the blonde rested her forehead against yours. Breaths passed sweeping, your faces heating from more than just the sun.

"You've no idea how long I've waited to do that."

You smiled, pulling Rhaenyra in by her waist. "I don't want this to end…" you whispered. The reality hung over like the Stranger, waiting to bring you back to the truth. Rhaenyra seemed to share the sentiment, her hold on you being tight and unrelenting. “You don’t have to marry him.’’ Rhaenyra said, making you breathe a sad sigh, but the Princess wasn't going to let you have it. “No…when I am Queen…you can be with me.’’ 

“We will be hunted, sweet one. We will never know peace as long as my father wills his alliances be made.’’ Rhaenyra said. You turned away from her, feeling your lashes grow heavy with tears. She took your hand gently, spinning you back toward her. With a gentle hand on your cheek, Rhaenyra placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.  “I will always love you..’’ She said, feeling her heart give out under its own weight. “We will find a way…’’ How Rhaenyra wished to believe you. “Dear girl…and what if that way never comes?’’

“Then i will rest in knowing that you love me too.’’

—

The feast was ever so lively when you and Rhaenyra rejoined it. 

Servants scurried from left to right, carrying trays of food and barrels of drink. Gwayne was nowhere to be seen, but by the shouts and yells of joy, you had no doubt that he was nearby. People were too busy celebrating to notice your tear stricken face as you passed, your mind truly being elsewhere. You caught sight of a green dress, Alicent standing merely a few steps before you. Once you were safe next to her, Alicent noticed your demeanor immediately. “Sister…are you alright?’’ She asked, not expecting  any positive answer. Your eyes met with Rhaenyra across the hall, so much longing and love communicated, yet unsaid.  “Yes, dearest…I am alright.’’ You said, eyes having a far away look to them.

Alicent wasn’t a fool. 

She could recognize that look anywhere. 

All Rhaenyra saw was your sister urging that you lean on her, your head perched on her shoulder. The music arose once more and the floor began to flood with dancers.

And with that, you were out of sight and Rhaenyra sat there, wishing that she could run to you. 

Perhaps it would be better…at the very least, now she knew that you loved her and she you. Or perhaps, it would be worse this way. To know that you loved her and not being able to show her. To know that it was the very world itself that would put you to the torch rather than celebrate you. Rhaenyra cast a final glance at you. Oh, you were so beautiful. So free. So wild. 

Rhaenyra’s gaze fell before you could meet her. 

The gods could be oh so cruel.

Long done were the warm winds of summer and the sky settled into its gray blanket of clouds and mist. 

You awoke, comfortable in your bed and startled by the silence that followed. Eyra, your handmaiden, was nowhere to be seen. "Eyra." You called, but no answer came. You arose, your nightgown falling over your legs as you walked toward the window. You grasped the handles, pulling slightly. Your brows creased in confusion when they wouldn't open.

You pulled harder, but to no avail.

"How odd…" you murmured, turning your heel and walking to the door. Leaning against it, you searched for any guard or maid, any sound of clattering armor or wooden trays. Yet silence greeted you at the helm. You took hold of the door handles, pulling exceptionally harder than before, only for them to be locked.

"Hello!? What is the meaning of this!?" You yelled, your fist colliding with the wooden door. Backing away from it, the fear began to settle in. 

Where has everyone gone?

Had…had the King finally passed?

Has the Stranger finally greeted him?

Rhaenyra had departed not too long ago. If you could, you would have to get word to Dragonstone as soon as possible. Perhaps, what you both feared was finally coming true. You shook your head, banishing these thoughts as nothing more than a product of your fearful mind.

You peered through the holes in the windows, seeing that the sun had yet to rise.

Sitting down on the cool stone of the window, you waited.

—

Hours passed and still no word from either the Queen or your servants.

You paced the room, abandoning your reading. Such things become bothersome after such a long time. You felt like a prisoner in your own home, a home that looked scarce like it. The dragons had been replaced by the sigils of the Seven and while you did respect Alicent's devotion to the faith…the changes bothered you.

In a way, you believed that she was trying to erase that any of you were ever here.

Alicent…poor, lovely, beautiful Alicent.

It was as if you didn't recognize her anymore.

She used to be so…happy. Happy to dance, happy to walk with you. Happy to just be free. Now, the Queen was cold. It was duty above all else. And the way she treated Rhaenyra and Laenor…it left much to be desired.

When Rhaenyra gave birth to Joffrey, you had been the first to hold him. Aside from casting knowing glances at Ser Harwin, you congratulated Laenor all the same. Then, you handed the baby to Ser Harwin, your hand on his shoulder being enough to convey your congratulations to him. It didn't matter to you, Rhaenyra was your friend and good-sister, after all.

"The boys are beautiful, Nyra…Joffrey will be a fine knight." You had said, when the Princess came to you with the servant came to you with the Queen's order. You and Rhaenyra looked to one another, before you spoke. "Tell the Queen that the Princess needs rest and the babe shall stay with us-"

"I'll take him." 

"Rhaenyra, you just gave birth, you should rest." You responded, your voice calm and yet still outraged. "Yes, I should. Please, good-sister, help me dress." Rhaenyra had said. Whatever obsession Alicent had with Rhaenyra's sons, it had gone too far.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the door opening. Eyra appeared, clad in the servants clothes and a very, very scared look on her face. Dare you assume that a red handprint was nestled comfortably against her cheek. "My lady." Eyra greeted, taking her bow.

"Eyra, what is the meaning of this?"

"I have been ordered by the Queen to bring you your food, my lady." 

Eyra moved into the room, placing a tray of food that seemed to be your favorites. Alicent must have taken special care of having it prepared for you. "Eyra I demand that you tell me what is happening. What of the King?" You said. The serving girl stopped in her steps and you could tell that she had hoped she could leave.

"I am under orders-!"

"She is under my orders, (Y/n)." Eyra bowed before the Queen, before Alicent gave her the go ahead to leave. Now, Alicent stood before you, in a simple yet dignified dress.

"My Queen…" you greeted, inclining your head in respect. "Would you mind explaining to me why I've been locked in my room and why my servants refuse to listen to me?" You inquired, your irritation shining clear to your old friend. Alicent took a breath before speaking. “King Viserys has died.’’ She said, as her eyes dropped to the stone floor.

A pained gasp escaped you, your hand going to cover your mouth. Your eyes grew glassy. “Does…does Rhaenyra know? She must be sent for immediately.’’ You exclaimed, attempting to bypass Alicent and go to find a messenger. “That won't be necessary.’’ She said, only serving to make you more confused. “What are you talking about?’’

“Before the king passed, he relaid to me that he wishes for Aegon to be king.’’ 

It was as if a cold breeze had passed through you, though your skin felt hot. You were fully aware of what this meant. Otto was behind this no doubt, rushing to have his nephew crowned and have all others put to the sword. Rhaenyra…her boys…her daughter… You realed your arm from Alicent’s grasp.

“Alicent, you can not be serious...’’

“He said it to me, (Y/n)...he wants Aegon to be king.’’

She spoke with such sincerity, despite her words being nothing but lies. Your face drew on the confusion you felt. “Alicent…sweetling, you must understand that Viserys’s words were not his own....they have not been for a long time.’’ You approached slowly, your voice calm. It was almost as if you were speaking to a cornered animal, desperate in its attempt to escape. One wrong move and you would end up with Cole’s sword at your neck. He had a knack for masking his bloodlust through his undying loyalty to the Queen.

You were there that night, among that many guests that watched on in horror, as Ser Criston Cole beat Joffrey Lonmouth till the poor boy stopped moving. Once the shock and disgust wore off…you waited. Waited for something to be done about him. Surely, a kingsguard would be tried for not only attacking a member of the royal entourage but for also endangering the life of the heir to the Throne. Imagine your surprise when the only justice came in the promotion of Cole to the Queen’s personal guard. You had spoken to the King, citing the inappropriate behavior and absolute shame that Criston had brought forth on not only the Kingsguard, but the Crown itself.

 The King had grown too tired to hear of any complaints and so you let the matter be. 

Ser Harrold had been the only one to share your sentiment. 

Rapid dogs should be put down.

Alas, this dog would live to see another day.

Alicent scoffed, her hand going over her face. “You do not understand (Y/n), this was the way it was always meant to be.’’ She said, moving to take your hands into hers. “We aren't meant to rule..but we can aid the men who do.’’ She said, half expecting you to believe her. It was in those passing moments that you realized just how much time had passed. Long gone were the days of lounging in the gardens, reading and chasing Rhaenyra around, trying to get her to finish the work the Septa’s had given you. The nights you and Alicent spent together, where under constant moonlight, you danced. 

Only Rhaenyra knew. 

Only she knew the secrets of your heart and how it pined for Alicent. 

The realm would never have accepted it, that much was clear. So you had to hide yourself, for both yours and Alicent’s sake. Gods know what sort of torment her father would put her through…You buried your heart the day the marriage of King VIserys and Lady Alicent Hightower was announced. You and Rhaenyra had grown impossibly closer, while you and Alicent drifted apart

There was an ocean between you now.

As you stood before the woman you loved, a thought passed your mind. One that you had gone long without thinking. 

Was it better to speak or to die?

Would Alicent embrace you and love you the way you had for so long?

Or would that ocean only grow wider and deeper?

Deep down, you feared that you knew the answer.

Your grip on Alicent’s hands was tight, as you felt her soft hands under your more calloused ones. “Rhaenyra will never accept this.’’you whispered. Rhaenyra would never bend the knee. Neither would Daemon, he would rather feed himself to Caraxes. One must be rid of any challenges to the succession and you were certain that Criston would deliver Rhaenyra’s head on a platter had Alicent asked him to. “Aegon will give his sister the chance to swear obedience…she isn't foolish.’’

“Have you truly forgotten us, Alicent?’’

A silence passed. 

Alicent sighed, her dark eyes not meeting your (e/c) ones.

“You don't remember the hotheaded girl we used to chase around the gardens? Oh how afraid you were that the Septas were going to yell at us.’’ You recalled, laughing softly. “And what if Rhaenyra rejects it? What then?’’ You inquired, voice raised. The situation was beginning to get to you it seemed. If Alicent chose to go through with this nonsense, all you could think about was getting to Dragonstone as quickly as you could. Alicent remained silent. All she wanted was for you to be by her side. 

If not for the love of lovers…than for that of friends.

Alicent had always wished that she could have just married you. 

You, of great beauty and life. 

Unmistakable, brave…lovely.

“There is going to be retaliation…if not from Rhaenyra than from Daemon himself.’’ You said. Ever the loyal acolyte, carrying Rhaenyra’s torch. Yet that acolyte was willing to put any one to that torch, should the orders come. War was as inevitable as death now, it would seem. Your brilliant (e/c) eyes looked to Alicent, your hand going to move stray hairs from her face. It took everything for Alicent to not melt into your touch, once it laid gently upon her cheek. 

“For the sake of all that we once were…don’t do this.’’

And with those words, Alicent imagined you in a coat of black. 

‘’Aegon needs you, (Y/n)...I need you. You know that this is the right thing to do.’’ 

“Your father will put Rhaenyra to the sword, Alicent…both her and her children…and I will not stand by as you let that drunken fool take hold.’’ You spat. Never had you thought to spit such venomous words, let alone at the woman who unknowingly held your heart. It was apparent that your words had struck a chord, as Alicent too stepped away from you. Her eyes had lost that sheen they previously had, the one that kept you believing that the Alicent you loved was still there, somewhere. But now, as she took to stand before you, it was made clear that you were no longer speaking to a friend.

This was now the Queen.

“You shall be given more time to think your answer, Lady (Y/n). You shall report it to me and only to me on the morrow…have I made myself clear?’’

‘’As dragons tears.’’

The meeting ended with you slamming your fists against the door, as Alicent made quick work of erasing the tears that threatened to escape.

The morning passed and the sounds of bells surrounded you. In those moments, you wept for Viserys and you wept for the unknown future that was ahead. You could only think of Rhaenyra and her boys. Night came with the cold wind, as you found yourself tucked into the covers. Your doors opened once more, only to be met with Ser Criston Cole and some other servants. You recognized Eyra among them. 

Dresses were placed down on the table and chairs, as Cole was seemingly sent to make sure you didn't try and escape. “Ser Criston.’’ You greeted, as the knight bowed his head toward you. ‘’Lady (Y/n).’’

“Has the good Queen finally decided to let me go?’’

“The Queen wishes for you to bear witness to his majesty’s accession. I shall be here to escort you on the morrow.’’ Criston replied. You had long realized that he knew of your distaste for him. Word travels fast and one isn't really truly alone in the King's council, are they? There are always little flies, seeking to tell all. By the way Criston stared at your every move, you took a plausible gander that had the servants not been there and had not his honor been at stake, Criston would deal with you himself.

And maintain the charade that he was only doing it for his Queen. 

Peeking at the dresses laid out for you, you came to notice that they all shared amazing shades of green. 

The enmity that rose was unavoidable.

The servants excused themselves, leaving you and Criston alone.

“I didn't think you could stoop any lower, Cole. A murderer and a traitor.’’ You spat, malice laced into each syllable of every word. For a passing moment, you swore you saw Criston smile. “I serve the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. I believe it is truly you, Lady (Y/n), who is the traitor. Supporting a cunt and her bastard children.’’ 

“Than strike me down now.’’ You growled. Whatever restraint the dornishman had, it was at the forefront now. Your keen eyes saw the way his hand tightened at his sword handle. Criston was well within his reasons to want you dead. In some sad, twisted way…Cole reminded you a lot about yourself. You were both devoted to the same woman and at one point, you were willing to do anything for Alicent. 

You understood the fear that should Rhaenyra succeed the throne, she would be advised to do the very same thing she was now in danger of. But Rhaenyra wasn't a tyrant. Mothers understand each other in that way.

Rhaenyra would not make Alicent bury her children.

“This sentence isn’t mine to pass.’’

“That has never stopped you before.’’

A momentary fury passed Criston’s features, his face contorting in a way that made you believe that he was about to charge you. Yet the dornishman simply took his leave, opting to return at daybreak. You sighed, taking a look at the dresses. They were beautifully decorated, with small imagery on the cuffs and the ends of the skirt. You recognized most of the flowers, each occupying a special place in your heart. Your (e/c) reached what seemed like a rose, its petals wide and strong. 

Your eyes filled with tears, each droplet falling onto the fabric.

Your reason for sadness was now something else entirely.

You wept for what could have been and what could never be.

One becomes cold to other horrors of the world when they accept that their happiness will never truly be theirs. 

Taking the gown into your hands, you flung it to the floor, ignoring the tears that poured. You let out a dry gasp. It was as if daggers had pierced your heart, the pain sending you to your knees. You heaved and heaved, till the tell-tale pain in your temple began. You sobbed for what felt like hours, even neglecting to touch the food brought to you. Being too caught up in your heartbreak, you scarcely heard your door open once more. The cursed door squeaked and squealed.

“Lady (Y/n)?’’

The voice sounded familiar. 

“Ser Arryk?’’

“Come with me, my lady.” the knight said, moving to crouch down next to you, “But the Queen-’’

“She doesnt know we are here and it better stay that way.’’ Rhaenys interrupted, keeping her eyes to the doorway. “Princess Rhaenys?’’ You called, confused. “Alicent had me imprisoned as well, (Y/n). Not let's move, doodling will only get us killed.’’ She ordered. You nodded, opting to compose yourself later. There was a far more crucial task now at hand.

Getting out of King’s Landing.