vira

as the mid-day began to settle in, just teetering on the edge of sunset, you found yourself tucked away in one of the much quieter rooms of the palace, a leather-backed book placed absentmindedly in your lap. you were not fully registering nor reading the words on the page, per se, just letting the words and vivid imagery cloud your head as the afternoon warmth began to shine in through the stained glass window just beside you. 

a content, almost sleepy sigh came from you, and just as you were beginning to drift off to that of a catnap, a soft yet urgent knock on the library doors awoke you back into reality. 

“my lady? may i come in?” 

the words of your handmaiden were never rushed, as nothing at the castle ever was. time was so valuable, and it seemed a person was granted so little of it. 

“you may.” you did not look up immediately, gentle hands closing the reading and mentally noting to return to those pages later–the sound of a small creak as the door opened. although, there was something different about her mannerisms today. almost as if there had been some sort of shift in the air. 

her hands were folded neatly in front of her, lingering just longer than usual in her spot a few feet away from you, as if she was trying to find the correct words to speak. 

that alone made you look up, paying her the respect of your gaze, noticing the rather serious expression on your face. 

“have you been searching for me?” you asked lightly, eyebrows gently furrowed as you tried to place the mood of the conversation. your handmaidens were usually always cheery and you hoped they had not grown afraid to speak with you about serious matters.

just as the silence hung in the air for a beat longer, she began to speak; “your father requests your presence, my lady.” 

your fingers gently curled around the edge of that now seemingly uninteresting book laid in your lap, attention sharpening at the nature of her words. what on earth was so urgent? “..does he?” 

another pause followed your speech, looking over to the side with a small sigh, thoughts beginning to race within your head. 

“he says it is rather important, your highness.” 

that was new, because “important” things did not reach you here. at least, not in the way the reached the rest of the world; you’ve grown accustomed to rather dull days. 

then, you stood up slowly, smoothing out the silken fabric to your gown, which was more of a habitual gesture than something attempting to fix your appearance. 

“i suppose i shall not keep the king waiting,” you said, a small smile on your face, trying to almost ease whatever sort of tension that was in the air. beginning to tress outside of the room, you passed her, flashing her a quick smile, hoping to falsely convey that you were not nervous by any means. 

she watched you for half a second longer than normal, as if she already was aware of what was to come. and, if it had caused the castle to shift even the slightest bit; perhaps that meant good news. something was about to change. 

as you began to tress throughout what seemed like endless hallways, you noticed things that had simply never been there before. and, those things were not hard to miss in the slightest, given these walls are the only thing you had grown to remember without fault. 

looking to your right, you paused in your tracks to take a quick glance outside of a large window in the foyer, and to your surprise.. there seemed to be what looked like dozens of castle servants handling banners, trimming rosebushes, tending to things that had been long overgrown. 

you silently reminded yourself what you had even been meaning to do in the first place, picking up the fabric to your gown, footsteps much quicker now–almost like a small run, which was uncharacteristic for you. especially in these halls. 

finally drawing upon the large door to your fathers chambers, your hands were softly placed palm-flat against the carved wood, pushing it open with an almost child-like curiosity. before you spoke, you stepped one foot into his quarters, beginning to speak as you closed the door behind you. 

“father? you wished to see me,” you softly began, gaze down at the ground for a moment as you smoothed out your dress, before your head tilted up to see your father across the room. his hands were clasped behind his back, curtains drawn fully open to let the sunlight in, which was so strange. any other time he would have had those curtains drawn closed tightly, collecting dust and waiting for the next time to be used. 

it seemed he was watching the same thing you had been so perplexed about on your way here, paying close attention to the servants who were currently at work, which was quite earnestly the first time they had tended to any vines that tressed up the cobblestone walls or paid any attention to the flora and fauna in years. 

he seemed rather calm, but almost too collected. as if he were trying to contain his nerves. a heavy sigh came from his lungs, head dipping to look at the ground for a split second, before he halfway-turned his body to look at you, even though he had avoided making any eye contact at first.

you made soft yet cautious footsteps towards him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, as if touch alone could somehow change the lamentable mood he was currently in. “what troubles you, father?” you said softly, head slightly tilted as you looked up at him with an almost worried expression. 

“my daughter,” he started, his voice taking upon a tone of what seemed like he was reminiscing on something. “you deserve much more than the isolation of these walls.” he continued, emphasis on those last few words that left his mouth. you gave him a small nod, communicating understanding of his words. 

“we cannot remain something of a legend forever,” he started, only the slightest bit of shakiness in his voice. a tone that only you would even begin to understand. “it is time the gates opened again.” 

for a moment, you were dumbfounded. the gates? open? ..for all of westeros? such a thing was almost unheard of. your eyes narrowed for a moment, looking over at the busy servants just outside, and then returning your gaze to your dear father. 

“now is not the time to jest, father..” something in you began to play it off as some strange joke, but not because you did not believe him. it was simply because it was the only rational way to react after spending years alone, taking the same pathways, reading the same novels repeatedly. 

“jest?” a warm, deep laugh came from his chest, almost husky due to his age. “dear child, the invitations have already begun to be drafted.” his words caught you off guard–there really was to be a gathering. a grand one. “this is a need for visibility. our alliances have weakened, and we must regain our house reputation.”

the thought of it was simply unfathomable. you began to imagine platters upon platters filled with exotic foods, chandeliers coming out of the dungeon, and the old ballroom you loved so dearly to become restored. 

you began to become overjoyed, an unmistakable smile crossing your face, an almost excited laugh coming from you. “oh, it shall be simply grand!” you exclaimed, suddenly lunging slightly forward to watch antique glassware and blossomed flowers being transported throughout the castle. your father began to speak, opening his mouth, yet your curious mind had already started racing. 

“will there be music? oh, and dancing?” it sounds almost captivating, but alas, he knew you needed to realize you were not exactly familiar with what you were rushing to step into. “and what of the guests; who shall be attending? how many people?” 

he gently paused your excitement with a soft tone, reminding you that this was only the preparation. “my dearest, you must be patient. i shall not bore you with any details.” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “the seamstresses and dressmakers will be arriving shortly. there will be no further questioning.”

a small, defeated sigh came from you, but the smile on your face could fool your father any day of your true emotions. “yes, father.. i understand.” you said gently, recollecting your thoughts and dimming your excitement. yet, that was only for a moment. 

you began to realize he was not forcing change upon you. he was allowing you to accept it, and by the nature of your response, he knew he had made the right decision. 

it was only a moment longer before you quickly gave your father a tight embrace, incredibly grateful for the opportunity he has granted you with, even if it was for reasons other than simply allowing you to experience what life has withheld from you. “thank you, father. i shall be on my best behaviour, i’m sure of it.” you let go after a moment, flashing him a quick smile, before being on your way out of his chambers. 

as you made your way towards the foyer, you were careful to pick your dress up, pacing down a flight of marble stairs–caucious not to slip. on your path down the stairs, you passed multiple servants and handmaidens, all busied with some sort of task that entailed decorating the palace to its entirety. 

after making a turn towards the entrance of your private quarters, a group of at least five women were already sorting through fabrics and threads, a quarter of the expanse of your rather large room occupied by seamstresses. “ah, there she is. your majesty, come forth, will you?” 

one of the older women motioned with a hand for you to come closer, taking a step back to allow you to stand in front of a large, multi-framed mirror that covered almost the entirety of the wall. you flashed her a quick smile, allowing her to take whatever measurements she needed from you. “did you have any ideas in mind, my lady?” she said to you, granting you creative liberty to some extent.

you took a moment to think, unsure of what you would be expected or even want to wear to such an event where royals were expected to attend. 

“perhaps.. white. a beautiful, pure white gown.” you said softly, looking at yourself in the mirror in front of you in attempts to take into account your features. although, the answer was subtly shocking to the older woman. “white, your majesty? won’t you want to reserve that for your day of wed?” 

you shook your head slightly, a smile crossing your face. “well, i do not assume i shall be married soon, or ever, for that matter. especially not in these.. circumstances.” your thought process was simple; it would most certainly not be easy for any man of high status to marry a princess who has never made any court appearances or even been seen by outsiders. 

your remark had gained the interest of two younger seamstresses who were currently pinning fabric together, beginning to form the underskirt to your gown near the back of the room, “i beg to differ, i heard lords from the capital are attending,” one of them started, her tone rather matter-of-fact, assuming you’d be potentially courted by many suitors. 

a small laugh came from the other. “i heard this is to be the largest gathering since the tourney at ashford meadow,” she said with a grin, seemingly feeding on quick court-gossip. this earned a shock from the other seamstress, beginning to sew ornate stones onto a section of fabric. “one of the dragon princes are attending.. the house targaryen rarely travels west.”

that remark in particular had caught you off guard. you simply had to know more.

“the dragon prince?” you questioned, looking over at them over your shoulder. you had only heard brief mention of any house relating to dragons from your father, when you would eavesdrop on meeting as a little girl. the same dressmaker who had been adding little crystals to the gown came closer, holding up fabrics next to you, seeing what would look best.

“you’ll know him when you see him. snow-white hair.. like that of an old valyrian painting.” she whispered, making this prince sound more like a rumour than a royal. you hadn’t thought that the realm was nearly this complicated. she began to speak once more; “he is–”

the older seamstress gave them a scorning look, reminding them that it was not by any means in good taste to gossip about seemingly one of the most influential house names. “girls. i shall remind you we did not come here to speak in poor taste.” after that warning, the room went quiet aside from the sound of pins occasionally dropping, or the sound of heavy fabric.

softly, you turn back to the mirror, not a sound leaving your mouth, silently thinking to yourself. what was such a matter with this family name, and why on earth were they so important? it seemed you would have to wait for the day to come. 

attempting to break the silence, you speak softly, an innocent question leaving your mouth.

“..what silhouettes are they wearing this season?”

and so, over the course of weeks, the castle changed in ways you could not even begin to fathom prior to the engagement. the change was not all at once, or loud, or gaudy.. it began to change in pieces. 

you had been awake for hours, currently sat at your vanity, simply awaiting the unveiling of the dress you waited weeks for. the conversation you had with those two nosy seamstresses still never failed to cloud your mind, with all the talk of high-ranking lords and ladies, making you much more nervous than excited for a court appearance after many years in solitude. 

the hour was growing late, and the sun had set hours ago, the castle now illuminated with golden candelabras and blown glass lanterns. it was something you only could have imagined in a painted memory. below you, you could hear the faint clanking of metal trays and silverware, paced footsteps moving with an unfamiliar purpose. 

you had been awake since dawn, simply listening to the sounds coming from outside your door. 

a soft knock came upon your door, waking you out of a sort of subconscious daydream. “your evening gown is finished, my lady.”

excitement began to take over the feelings of nervousness, turning slightly towards your door. years of wearing the same light, simply tailored gowns had made you look forward to the arrival of such a grand dress.

you stood slowly as the door opened to many familiar faces–then another, and another. not just your usual handmaidens that always greeted you in the morning time, but others too. the women carried what seemed like never-ending fabrics, boxes tied with ribbon, and a small tray of what looked like pale feathers. 

the dress was not unveiled all at once; first came the fabric. “oh, it is divine.. they’ve outdone themselves.” you said, as your fingers brushed along the satin fabric. “careful,” one of the handmaidens said, earning a soft laugh from you. was it improper to touch the dress you were soon to be wearing?

“is it fragile?” you said, with a slight smile. 

“no, your majesty. just important.”

and with that, they helped you dress slowly, as they always did, but today there was a difference in their movements. there was more attention and much more precision. as if every aspect mattered in a way it hadn’t before, like you were not simply getting dressed, but prepared. 

the fabric settled over you, the gown having an undeniable weight to it. the laces of the corset-style waist were tightened and tied with care, little white plumes intricately placed upon the bodice. 

just as you were beginning to take a longing look at yourself in the mirror, a servant rushed in, pausing at the doorframe. 

“my lady, you must make haste. guests are beginning to arrive.”

you could already hear the strum of violins and the chatter of royal guests downstairs. before leaving the quiet familiarity of your room, you take one last look, allowing yourself to smooth out the silk fabric of your dress and adjust the boned bodice holding the structure together. 

and with that, pushing aside any nervousness or uncertainty, you begin to make hurried footsteps to the ballroom. along your path, you passed many servants carrying refreshments and trays, the heightened smell of rosebuds wafting throughout the halls, and the sound of music getting increasingly easier to hear as you get closer and closer.

before entering what seemed like something out of a storybook, you turned your quick footsteps into slower, more purposeful ones. there was booming laughter and glasses clinking, just behind massive wooden doors; to which were already propped open. 

stepping inside the warmly-lit gathering, your presence does not go unnoticed. 

the volume of some nearby conversations begin to falter, some heads turning to feast upon what exactly the reach had been keeping locked away for so long. out of the corner of your eye, you see another nudge the lord beside him, though you decide to ignore it. many women smiled at you, though, some filled with envy. 

you gravitated towards the end of the room, taking hold of a stem of wine, swishing it within the glass before taking a quick sip. for someone who had such a lavish party in their honour, you didn’t quite see any familiar faces. 

your footsteps were slow, simply listening to conversations happening near you.. talk of alliances, how horrible the last tourney was, an arranged marriage. all things very common for court. while your eyes drifted over the grand floral arrangements, something caught your eye. silver hair. and not the old, aging kind of silver. pure white. 

suddenly a thought from weeks before rang into your ears, almost as if you began to remember something crucial, when that seamstress had mentioned “snow-white hair.” your memories began to fall into place, taking a long and good look at the figure across the room. if your eyes were not deceiving you, he looked around to be twenty years old. perhaps the dragon prince was not all myth. 

and perhaps you had been looking a bit too long, which granted you a cock of his eyebrow, narrowing his eyes as if looking you over. setting his wine down on the table next to him, within a blink of the eye he was beginning to move. 

you turned around, in attempts to walk around the crowd rather than through it–your father right behind you. “she looks just like her mother.” he was standing with a few other lords; all in jewel tones of red, yellow, and green. one of them began to whisper to the other next to him, another speaking; “ah, here she is. she’s been hiding from us all night.”

his remark gained boastful laughter from the men with him, all smiles, to which you cannot place were genuine or if they had ulterior motives. you silently cursed him within your head, given you had completely lost track of a certain white-haired prince. 

“why, yes… yes. i do suppose i’ve been in hiding.” you said with a forced smile, eyes darting around as you endlessly searched a crowd full of individuals for one. and yet, it was as if he had vanished within thin air. how hard was it to misplace someone so striking? 

your father began to speak again. about what, you had no idea. your mind was certainly elsewhere. without taking a second thought to think of what he was speaking of, you agreed by nodding your head. 

after a moment, you excused yourself–there were much bigger things at hand here. “excuse me.” you said, beginning to pace your way through the crowd, pardoning yourself for being in someone's way more times than you could count. 

soon enough, you found yourself on the other side of the room. standing just quite in front of the “elusive” figure you’d been trying to track down all night. 

your first mistake was thinking he would make attempts to introduce himself first. he simply.. leaned against the wall, eyebrows furrowed as he studied you, deciding if you were worthwhile.

he seemed beautiful and charismatic, yet there was most certainly something off, shown within the way he exuded a harsh sort of stillness while the gala around him was soft and warm.

breaking the silence, you began to speak–before he got to it first.

“you’re not what i expected,” he said, his tone rather matter-of-fact, taking a small sip of wine whilst his eyes never let up from your complexion. 

your hands remained folded together in front of you, resting on the fabric of your gown. whatever did he mean by that?

“and what is it that you were supposed to expect?” you added, your head slightly lifting to actually make attempts to make eye contact, your question coming off as charming. 

“someone timid.” he said, before allowing a beat of silence, looking down into his glass filled with crimson liquid. “though you interest me in conversation.”

your eyes narrowed for a moment, beginning to experience a feeling you couldn’t quite place. perhaps a bit of excitement was misplaced as nervousness. 

“..would you rather me hadn’t, your grace?” you replied, a bit of playfulness in your tone, clearly, you weren’t intimidated. 

there was a long pause, before he spoke once more.

“no.” the prince quipped back, rather quickly, like he knew what he wanted to say before you were finished with your sentence. like he didn’t have to think about it. 

alas, you wanted to know more, the result of the conversation was not quite satisfactory. 

you began to speak, though it was hard to ignore you were being almost studied with every movement of your mouth. “may i ask you something?” 

“you already have,” he said, gaining a very subtle roll of your eyes at him. were all princes so persistently irksome? 

he noticed your little face of irritation, almost smiling to himself. “another question, then. go on.” it seemed he strictly carried the conversation, not the other way around. 

you tilted your head to the side, your gaze looking off in a different direction as you spoke. “have you always enjoyed making strangers uncomfortable, my lord?” after those last few words, you returned your focus of sight onto his face. 

undoubtedly, there was an unmistakable smirk painted upon his pale complexion. the tiniest smirk, like he somehow found it humorous.

he didn’t look away when he spoke, not even for a moment, like the act of watching you was part of the conversation itself.

“you speak as though discomfort is always an insult,” he said at last, voice low enough that it barely had to compete with the noise behind him. “it is not.”

your fingers had begun to adjust the fabric of your gown, finding something else to occupy your racing mind with. you allowed the moment of silence to stretch just long enough so it felt more intentional.. and less like you were at a loss for words.

“then.. what is it?” you asked him. his eyes briefly flickered down your hands, watching the movement of gentle fingers, as if he was mentally noting something that other people would ignore. 

“testimony,” he started, his tone stating his words rather simply. “of truth. or, lack of it.” 

his words made you pause. whatever was he hinting at? your expression shifted, quite obviously, before you could begin to control it. a hint of a laugh came from you, followed by an exhale. because, honestly, how else were you supposed to react?

“so.. you go around looking for truths to collect?” you said, your tone was rather light in the way that was careful, “how very devoted of you.” 

at your remark, something changed within his expression. it wasn’t anything of warmth or amusement, at least in any familiar sense.. it was more like recognition. like what you said had very closely met the mark than you intended it to. 

“only the ones worth listening to.” he began, that same unchanging tone of his in those words. your gaze had stayed on him much longer than etiquette would have most likely advised you, as well as the fact that you did not exactly know where boundaries sat in a conversation like this. 

“and what makes mine listening to, my lord?” you asked, a small smile on your face as the corners of your mouth curled up. and, for the first time, he looked away from you. 

it wasn’t a retreat for the conversation by far, much more like a deliberate pause. he looked down into his goblet of wine, as if the answers he was searching for would be found within the reflection of the red liquid. it was almost as if the conversation had ended in being strictly theoretical. 

then, without lifting his head, he spoke. “you assume the question was meant to flatter you.” with a movement of his jaw, his tongue flicked within the inside of his mouth, as if tasting the remnants of the blood-red wine left upon his gums. strangely enough, the mannerism akin to a reptile. 

it was so faint, that if you were not watching closely enough, it would have gone unnoticed. unfortunately, you were. and it did not feel like an entirely human gesture. your mind traced back to prior conversations, remembering how the dressmaker had referred to him as the “dragon prince.” it was true that his peculiar movements did strike you as dragon-like. 

“i found the remark to be quite flattering,” you said, your words coming easily. it was curious in a way that betrayed any thought wondering if curiosity was permitted. 

for a moment, he did not respond. it was as if the question had not offended him or caught him off guard in any way, it was simply as if what you had said was able to redirect his thoughts on the conversation–and, undoubtedly, you as well. 

his gaze lifted once more, studying you with a different sort of interest. he was not simply registering your emotions, or picking apart what you were replying, there was a quiet interest in the way he was taking in every feature about you.

now, that should have made you uncomfortable. but, it made you far less sensible, making you much more curious in return. 

your smile shifted slightly, no longer just polite, but with an air of self-assurance, given the fact you had potentially caught his eye. “you are looking at me as though i’ve said something interesting,” you said.

though, it was not quite a question. he did not look away from you once, yet, his eyes had become focused on each individual feature, like he was trying to piece something together. 

“you have.” he replied, his words simple yet immediate. there was no hesitation laced within his words, which only heightened your curiosity. 

you exhaled through your nose, a faint laugh forming without any bit of resistance. “that is not something i hear often,” you admitted, tilting your head slightly as your gaze now stayed firmly on him. “usually i am told the opposite.”

there was a very small pause from him at your words. “the opposite,” he repeated, unsure of what may be his motives at this rate. 

you lightly nodded, once, as though your admission was something unremarkable. “that i am.. expected to be quieter,” you said, trying to briefly find the correct phrasing, though now tone suggested you were not particularly concerned with perfecting your speech. “less noticeable, perhaps.”

you watched him carefully as you spoke; but not out of fear of his reply or the nature of what he may be thinking. (thought, the potential of his thoughts did interest you.) it was merely because he had begun to react in ways that other noble suitors would not. if he could even be considered a “suitor.”

he absorbed your notion as if it mattered. “and do you try to be?” he questioned, yet the words had landed differently than any previous statement, it was directly giving you a choice as to how you planned to answer. 

‘well, no,” you said, rather honestly. “i think i simply have not had much reason to be otherwise.” your words fell more freely after you spoke, shoulders shrugging for a moment, a breath leaving your lungs that you were not exactly aware you were holding in. 

that gained you silence from him. though, short-lived silence.

not exactly the bad kind, but his attention had shifted much closer to you, even though neither of you had moved any closer–or any further, for that matter. “you’d be mistaken.” he said, gaining a quick quip of your brow. 

“would i?” you questioned, words coming out more inquisitive than you intended. 

he held your gaze, eyes narrowed by a hair, as if he was studying your features once more. beginning to take a quick sip of his wine, those eyes of his hadn’t left you for a moment. 

“you are noticeable regardless,” he said. it should have sounded flat, but it was anything but. his words sounded definitive, like he already had made a decision about you long before you were aware of what it entailed. 

for a moment, you did not respond. but out of hesitation or anything trivial, but because his admission made you suddenly aware of yourself in a way you had not been before. because there was a simple fact; he was looking at you like you were distinct. 

your gaze matched his own more steadily, head tilted slightly to the side, beginning to feel your curiosity shift into something much more deliberate. “that could mean many things, my lord.” you replied.

“it does.” he agreed, his attention not shifting within the slightest. 

you kept your posture rather composed, yet something within you had shifted, beginning to realize that this was becoming something much more than casual banter. your fingers had started to adjust faintly against your gown. 

“you were not meant to be seen often,” he said, as if continuing a thought he had already deemed true. “or you would not react like this.”

you blinked a few times, almost as if batting your eyes–minus the flirtatiousness. you were not used to a man, or a prince for that matter, reading you so well. 

his eyes lowered; but not to your fidgeting hands. he began to focus on the change of your expression, almost silently triumphant in his head that he had managed to have any sort of upper hand over the conversation.

very subtly, he took a step forward. it was not yet invading any personal space, but it was rather close to being deemed intimate. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter;

“who keeps you hidden?” 

your lips parted, almost at a loss for words. “my father," you said at last, though the words felt strange to say out loud. "he believed it.. safer."

the prince regarded your response for a moment, at first, saying nothing. his features conveyed something of no surprise. “i thought as much.” 

he paused for a moment, granting a beat of silence, which could have been for emphasis on his statement. his eyes narrowed for a split second, thoughtfully tracing the inner ridge of his teeth with his tongue. 

“it is a shame.” he stated, the nature of his words catching you off-guard. you were not sure how to react. 

your brows gently knitted together, deciding to dig a hint deeper, your inquisitiveness rather apparent. “..what is?” 

for what felt like the first time during the conversation since you’ve begun to speak.. he did not have an immediate answer. uncharacteristically, he began to search for the correct words, though it seemed several possibilities had crossed his mind before one seemed worthy of being spoken.

“that something so..” he began, head tilting just slightly to the side, almost as if he was studying you intently. “remarkable..” 

there was another short pause before he spoke again.

“..has been hidden behind stone walls for so long.” 

it is painfully easy to recall the last memory you had before time stopped, a moment that has since been etched into your house name for what now feels like ages ago.

you were nothing but a daisy-fresh child, the world resting lightly at your fingertips as you explored the castle halls to your heart’s content. though you did have an adventurous streak, and that streak often got you into trouble… but nothing like this. it was the last time you had ever seen your father’s face lit up brighter than the stars in the midnight sky.

though he had never been particularly graceful, he would let you call yourself the fastest knight in the reach, always pretending to lose those little games you shared, falling dramatically to the floor with a hand pressed to his chest and a groan so exaggerated it always sent you into fits of laughter.

“you’ll never catch me!” you had cried, tiny hands bunched into fists as you gathered the silken skirts of your gown, running through a corridor that smelled of fresh roses and gardenias. echoing laughter filled the hall behind you, a sound you had not heard in what feels like an eternity.

“is that right?” your father called after you, giving chase, always just a few steps behind, far enough for you to feel like you were winning.

the memory grows more blurred at the edges as time goes on, almost like a puzzle missing a crucial, final piece. 

your vision tilted unsteadily. one wrong hurried turn, one missed step. the polished stone of your lavish home had betrayed you.

there was a sharp, violent impact as your head struck the wall, and then everything unraveled at once. it was almost as if your consciousness slipped away like sand through an open fist.

from that moment on, everything you had built your world around changed.

your father caught you before you fully collapsed; “look at me, dear child,” he said desperately, panic threading through every syllable. his arms tightened around your small, limp form as though sheer will alone could undo what had happened. “please… look at me.”

but you did not stir, and the realization began setting in. 

nearby handmaidens who tended the corridors had already witnessed the tragedy unfold. a silver tray slipped from one woman’s hands, clattering loudly against the stone. another stood frozen, her palm clasped tightly over her mouth.

footsteps erupted from every direction, chaos rushing in where laughter had been only moments before.

“my princess…” one lady whispered, her voice breaking.

“fetch the maester!” another cried. “now!”

yet your father did not once move from your side. his eyes never left your face, searching it desperately as though he could will you awake through nothing but his fear of losing you. 

by the time the maester arrived, it was as though the man who once ruled triumphantly had become something entirely different. he was not gone, but reshaped and scarred by the sight of you in his arms, as well as by the terrifying stillness of your small body.

“my princess?”

a gentle voice came from beyond your chamber doors, pulling you gently from sleep rather than forcing you awake.

“it is nearly noon.”

you stirred slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering through your curtains. time itself seemed to move differently within these walls, like nothing was ever rushed or done carelessly.

you sat up, stretching your arms as if you were to grace the day properly, allowing yourself to truly settle into it. somewhere along the years, you had learned to find beauty even in the smallest, most ordinary things. perhaps that was what made a true princess in a place like this.

your soft royal life had learned to flourish even within a garden that had been closed to the world for as long as you could remember.

sunlight pooled across your chambers in familiar gold, slipping over painted walls and tracing the edges of embroidered curtains your ladies insisted on changing with every season. the air smelled faintly of peony and lavender, your favorites, always made sure by your father to keep the things you loved close to you. 

although, that may have arisen from his fear of how threatening the world outside could potentially be.  

three of your handmaidens entered quietly; one placed a crystal decanter of water beside your bed, followed by a small plate of bread still warm from the kitchens. another drew back your curtains a little further, letting the garden light spill in fully. the third began tidying ribbons and pins left from the day before.

there was ease and practiced care in their movements now, which was nothing like the fear and urgency of years past.

a smile found its way onto your face before you even realized it.

“may i visit the greenhouse today?” you asked softly, your love for the blooming things of spring always impossible to hide.

“after breakfast, my lady,” your handmaiden replied automatically, as though the answer had been written into every morning you had ever lived here.

you only lightly hummed in response.

assisting you in dressing had long since become less of a duty and more of a quiet ritual. these same women had known you since infancy, and their hands moved with familiar care as they fastened laces and smoothed fabric into place. your gowns were always soft now. trimmed with floral patterns, pale jewels set delicately along the bodice, chosen not for gaudiness but for comfort. beauty, here at the castle, was something gentle rather than something of performativity. 

“your father sent word this evening,” one of them said as she worked the laces at your back.

the mention of him no longer brought the same sharp tension it once had. time had softened the edges of everything, even grief.

“he inquired if you would like breakfast in the west garden this morning, my lady.”

without hesitation, you took the silken ties gently from her hands, a bright smile breaking across your face.

a small laugh escaped you, light and unguarded.

“well then, we mustn’t keep him waiting.”

you moved toward your mirror, quickly pinning a few strands of hair into place, though you paused for a moment. not nearly out of vanity, but out of something quieter. almost something of a breath or a realization.

you were not, by any means, a little girl anymore. but neither were you the fragile tale westeros had chosen to invent.

perhaps one day your father would understand that too.

and with that, you went to join your father for breakfast in the west garden, where the roses were in full bloom and the morning sun spilled across stone, making everything feel, for a little while at least, like the world had always been this way.

⊹ STAR WARS

⊹ LORD OF THE RINGS

⊹ THE HOBBIT

⊹ HARRY POTTER

⊹ A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS

“once upon a time.” — multiple characters x princess!reader. (ongoing series with multiple parts.) synopsis: after a tragic accident skewing your fate, they call you the sleeping princess of the reach. hidden behind rose-covered walls since your childhood, you've become less a princess and more of a mere tall tale.

PARTS: prologue: the sleeping beauty, chapter 1: the dragon in human form (part one), chapter 2: the hedge knight, chapter 3: the laughing storm.

aerion targaryen:

"uneasy lies the head that wears the crown." — (part one, part two.) synopsis: "a rather small but challenging argument between you and prince aerion, your betrothed, leaves you in disarray. perhaps there is more than one way the prince can make it up to you?

⊹ GAME OF THRONES

⊹ CLASSIC SLASHER FILMS

⊹ BONES

⊹ DEXTER

⊹ THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

⊹ THE GREAT GATSBY

⊹ CLASSIC LITERATURE

⊹ THE WALKING DEAD

⊹ TWIN PEAKS

⊹ THE PITT

⊹ MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

he was never one to break a promise, and in this case, he swore you’d be dealt with. 

any woman would dream of being in your position; filled with banquets and feasts full of rich laughter, enough wine to drown in, silk crimson and plum gowns stitched with golden thread, all topped with the promise of a targaryen crown above your brow. 

but, in truth, no amount of jewels or silk could soften the edges of a sharp husband. a husband whose name commanded immediate respect from the strongest men in all of westeros. 

it seemed you had completely watched the sun fall from mid-day to ink night with how long you’d been attempting to distract yourself. 

you’ve read the same page of an old tale almost ten times over, laid restlessly in your bed, and silently cursed yourself for raising such a storm over the treatment of a servant. perhaps you were just too soft-hearted, or maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t help but fixate on other individuals' lives; hoping it would distract you from your own, if even just for a moment. 

aerion’s last words to you failed to leave you in any state of peace.

tears had left your weary eyes more times than you could even begin to count, negatively affecting your mood and motivation to do.. well, anything, besides lay in the same royal bed you’ve been promised to. 

your personal handmaidens had visited you at least twice; combing out your hair, tending to your tear-stained face. and allowing you to be changed into something far more comfortable for a lady in her private bedchambers. 

now, you lay alone, unaware of the hour. clad in off-white cotton, a thin chemise hung loosely on your frame, falling ever so slightly off of your shoulder, due to the rather wide neckline. mind wandering in the same circle: the thought of word travelling extremely quick through the red keep.

if anyone knew of the quarrel between aerion and his bride to be, or even witnessed it in the gardens, conflict was almost certain to arise within the royal court. it was almost as if your life was never allowed a hair of privacy ever since you stepped foot into the castle. 

the awful notion had been keeping you awake.

your head was resting against one of many pillows, face halfway pressed into soft silk. you had cried out enough of your sorrows and flushed out any heavy-bearing emotions by now, stirring just enough to prevent you from drifting off. 

your train of thought, as well as the silence, was interrupted by a rather gentle knock at the door. of course, your handmaidens had already bid you goodnight. sitting up ever so slightly, a sort of sleepiness within your low-lidded eyes.

the voice was all too familiar.

“may i come in?”

it was aerion, no doubt, to which you could presume he came to return to his chambers and sleep beside you out of obligation. like it always was. 

allowing a beat of silence, you decided the outcome was inevitable. with a meek voice, rather hoarse from not speaking over the course of a few hours (other than to yourself.)

“you may.” 

the crimson-colored wooden doors to your chambers slowly opened to reveal an almost calm aerion, his mannerisms almost.. reluctant. you didn’t expect him to feel much remorse after deliberately fighting fire with fire, getting you worked up over something so trivial.

you simply looked over at him from your almost-seated position, eyes raking down his frame; watching him as he gently shut the door behind him. 

something of a soft, defeated sigh came from him. almost if he had cooled off, in a sense. which was undeniably out of character.

you began to expect another argument, another dig at the power imbalance, anything. 

across the room, he began quietly and deliberately unbuttoning his shirt, speaking as he did so. “you’ve been crying.” aerion breathed out, slipping the remainder of the cotton garment off of his slender shoulders, throwing it onto a nearby chase. 

an almost hushed sigh came from him. “that was never my intention.”

had it really been that obvious of your previous state of emotion, or was someone communicating what was supposed to be kept private? the question was lingering in your head. you began to wonder if you misunderstood him. 

your eyes fell to the sheets below you, beginning to absent-mindedly fidget with the soft linen, trying to find the words. but you were only left with silence, unable to truly think of anything to say to him. he had done enough damage today, and you thought it was best to refrain from arguing for the rest of the night. 

taking note of your reticence, aerion draws much closer to the edge of your shared bed, looking down on you with a softened gaze. it was all such an unusual change from his usual, disdainful personality. it could have been the fact that you were his wife to be. but that was all the reason to be just as heartless. 

“you took what i said rather personally, dear heart.” he kneeled down gently towards your side of the bed, a gentle hand reaching out to rest on your knee, aerion’s thumb beginning to softly swipe back-and-fourth against the skin. “you’ll learn i’m not your enemy.”

his words were beginning to break down the walls you had been putting up over the course of months. but, above all, you reminded yourself it was only a false sense of security. 

your head turned slightly to look at him, resting the side of your face against the pillow propped up behind your back, serving as a way of comfort. you became much more at ease given his fiery temper was at a low. 

“you will come to understand, my betrothed.” with those last few words, it was clear he was beginning to win you over. aerion reached out a hand to gently take hold of your own, looking up at you with almost pleading eyes. it was at that moment he pressed his lips towards your knuckle, placing another kiss towards the inside of your wrist. 

the slightest bit of a smile graced your lips, finding warmth within his usually frigid touch. he gently closed his eyes, taking a moment to trail slow, lingering kisses upon the expanse of your forearm, before admiring you with half-lidded eyes. 

utterly flattered by the intimate nature of his affection, you begin to forgive him. aerion was by no means a brute, his temper was just.. less than admirable, at times. 

“will you join me, my lord?” the words slip out of your mouth, rather shy about what exactly you’ve invited him into. 

the almost ingenuity and sweetness of your tone reminds him just how gentle you really are. seeing it as something that is purely and utterly his. 

within a few moments, he begins to shift his position, standing up fully against the edge of the bed, staring at you as if he was absolutely starving. his hands reached down, beginning to slide the thin, white cotton of your chemise up and over your thighs.

you began to take the matter into your own hands, slipping the garment off and over your head completely, dropping it off the opposite side of the bed; completely uninterested of its whereabouts.

although, in the midst of your undressing, you had failed to realize aerion had stopped completely in his tracks, looking down at you with a hunger you’ve never witnessed from him before. it was incredibly enticing, being wanted to such a degree. 

his hands splayed across the expanse of your soft thighs, silently guiding and lifting your legs to rest upon his hips. 

“i wasn’t aware you were bleeding.”

your eyes widened ever so slightly, beginning to worry he would find it utterly heinous; worried he would want nothing to do with you until the time passed. it was commonly considered by court indecent for a man to be involved with a woman while she was bleeding.

you had never been more wrong in your lifetime.

before you even had time to excuse yourself for such a careless mistake, it seemed aerion was absolutely enamoured by the sight of the crimson painting your skin. he gently pushed you further up the bed, linen sheets rustling underneath you while leaning down to place chaste kisses upon the expanse of your stomach, nipping and biting down into the fat of your thighs, earning involuntary sounds of your own pleasure. 

“you drive me utterly mad, my wife,” he says breathlessly, like the sight of you and the state you were in was enough to entrance him completely. 

without any form of restrain, his hands form a rather tight grip onto your thighs, not allowing you any room to squirm or back away. a low groan elicited from him, pushing your thighs up and against your stomach, eagerly placing kisses to your cunt, becoming more drunk off the taste as the seconds go by. 

it was almost animalistic the way he was groaning into your pussy, his tongue darting out to lick flat against your clit, earning a sudden involuntary thrust of your hips upwards into his face. 

your back formed an arch from all the pleasure, hands grasping at the sheets below you as some sort of outlet, or something to hold on to. 

he began to lap and suck at your clit with more ferocity, letting out groans akin to that of a beast. one of his hands slid its way from its tight grip on your thigh to beginning to prod at your opening, spreading you open and fucking you with his fingers. 

your once shy mewls and little yelps of pleasure turned to cries of his name, looking down at the sight of him; pale face painted with bright red blood, covering his mouth and nose, lapping up all of your blood for all that it was worth. 

his nose began to bump against your clit, almost the entirety of his face smothered between your legs, slipping his fingers out to regain the grip he had on you and prevent any further squirming. 

your thighs began to twitch, hips jerking against his face, your poor body trying to squirm away from him so badly, even with him nose-deep in your pussy. after a moment, he lifted his head, licking his lips akin to that of a snake; tongue flickering out to taste the mix of your blood and arousal on his lips. 

“you fucking love that, hm?” he looked down at you to see you an absolute mess, and it was profoundly fulfilling to know that he was the one who put you in such a beautiful state. you were disoriented and breathless, blood smeared within the expanse of your inner thighs, staining the sheets below you. 

aerion brought two fingers up to his mouth, sucking the remnants of you off of his skin, crimson streaks left on his face. you, on the other hand, were all too dazed from the previous feeling to register his words. 

that earned you a sharp slap to the meat of your thigh, almost snapping you out of the haze. aerion leaned down closer to you, his blood-stained hand taking tight hold of your face, making your lips purse and allowing his fingertips to press into your cheeks. “you belong to me, yes? my betrothed. and soon enough, my wife.” he slightly shook your head, drilling the fact of his control over you. 

his hands were removed for your body for a split second, allowing him clearance to remove his breeches, undoing any buttons and slipping them off; aerion targaryen was insatiable. his cock was flushed pink at the tip, already leaking pre-cum and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. 

“spread,” his words were hasty and commanding, allowing you no time to recover from your high. forcibly, he grabbed forth your hips, bringing you closer to him. you brushed the stray hair out of your face, cheeks flushed and already covered in sweat. 

aerion quickly gave himself two strokes of his length, taking hold of himself and lining it up with your entrance; slipping inside with ease. a gutteral groan came from him, brows furrowing, staying still while he relished in the tightness of you around him. 

“oh, fuck– greedy fucking cunt.” 

his length was filling, just kissing the tip of your cervix. It wasn't long before he began heavily thrusting into you, hands forming a death grip onto your hips. while in a haze himself, he looked down to see pleasure etched across your face, watching his bloodied cock disappear into you. 

tears began to well up in your eyes, the pleasure becoming almost too much. “aerion, aerion— fuck!” you couldn’t push away or fight even if you wanted to, aerion’s cock nearly impaling you with each desperate thrust—desperate to get impossibly closer to you. 

his pace was anything but faltering, hips snapping against your own as he took you without restraint. a hand reached down to take hold of your neck, applying just enough pressure to remind you that he was the only man in westeros allowed to do this to you. 

your moans became little squeaks, given the lack of air, the thrill and adrenaline beginning to give you an almost high, completely drunk on pleasure.

“sweet girl,” he started, sounds of pleasure spilling from his mouth as he fucked you senseless, pulling nearly all the way out of your wet heat before filling you back up completely. his hips began to stutter, groans coming from him as he was determined to give you an heir. you were beginning to see stars with the combined stimulation from the way he was drilling into you, wet noises filling the room from the sheer amount of slick and blood where your bodies connected.

your nails began to scratch down his back, digging into the pale skin, leaving behind crimson streaks and crescent-shaped indents. no sound left your mouth as your back arched off the bed, pussy spasming around his cock as he made you cum. 

his lips tressed lower, nipping and kissing at the skin of your shoulder, the pace becoming almost desperate and quicker as soon as you finished.

aerion’s grip on your neck faltered, his palms now flat against the sheets next to your head, now letting his body fully cover your own. his teeth began to dig into your neck, trying to ground himself as he felt himself getting closer to filling you up completely. 

“you know i love you,” 

the words slipped out of his mouth, professing his love for you. he was so dazed from the tightness of your cunt and the way you were scratching down his back, his pace coming to a sudden halt—letting out a guttural groan as he emptied out inside you, giving you a few slow jerks of his hips.  

aerion didnt dare to remove himself from inside you just yet, beginning to soften as he watched you pant, finding the sight of you utterly fucked-out to be the most enticing thing he’d ever seen. knowing that he’d given you his seed filled him with a sense of triumph; knowing you’d be swell with his child. 

for once, aerion did not seem entirely frigid and selfish. although, he saw it as a given right to share a bed with the woman promised to him. 

beginning to regain your breath, chest gently rising and falling with each breath you took, you were scarcely even beginning to recover from such intense lovemaking. you never knew that a man could have such vitality and stamina, or that aerion possessed such lusting for your blood. 

he did say he would tend to you. 

aerion targaryen is a man unrelenting in his resolve.

the servants and castle keep are far enough as not to disturb your time of privacy, but not daring to stray too far. it was almost like there were always at least one set of eyes on you at all times ever since stepping into kings landing; truly foreign territory. 

as cunning and arrogant as aerion targaryen could possibly be seen, he was nothing short of a powerful ruler. it was seen as the highest honour to be bestowed and offered marriage to anyone of the targaryen house. your husband put almost this facade of impeccable courtesy in front of his father, maekar, almost sure to win the court's favor. yet his dark streak and lack of empathy bled between the lines rather often.

but he was not all cruel. especially not towards his bride.

the red keep gardens had become quietest place at court for a nearly-wedded lady, allowing you to be surrounded with blossoming flora and fauna, seemingly the only pure thing left behind under the mid-day sun. 

as you were becoming almost lost in a loop of thoughts about family and marriage contracts, the very frame of aerion became to approach your peripheral. it was not by any means that you did not wish to look him in the eye or unacknowledge his presence.. his gaze was simply far more intense than that of any other potential suitors of your past. the pallor of his significantly targaryen visage and the snow-white hair was enough to spot him. 

although, you were not fooling the wisest of men by pretending you were not interested in his whereabouts. 

a slight turn of your head gave view to a conversation between him and a servant, which could have been rooted with anything of the sort. you were unable to make out the words leaving either of their mouths, but it seemed aerion was beginning to scold the young servant rather harshly. perhaps it was over spilled wine, or a dropped sword. 

with a wave of his hand, the servant was turned away and scurried off without a halt, leaving a rather frustrated targaryen alone with his wife.

there was about a few moments until he joined you within your walk along this quaint area of the gardens, but everything was nothing but peaceful. 

with a gentle purse to your lips, which may have been brought by your slight agitation with his behaviour, you began to pierce the silence.

“was that necessary?”

your small words of questioning caused him a quick narrowing of his eyes at you. “what was?”

“frightening him.” 

but, of course, aerion had grown up royal and had the world at his fingertips since he was a small boy. 

“i simply corrected him,” he started, his tone coming off as almost dismissive, like he was well aware no one could tell him how to treat his servants. “you’ve such a tender heart.”

you allowed him a beat of silence. it was always apparent, even when on his best behaviour, that his narcissistic nature would peek through.

“i fail to see the insult.” you quipped back, making it known that his words were not wounding. 

“it wasn’t one. it simply explains why we disagree.” 

there was a slight furrow of your brows, your gaze narrowing by a hair, “does it?” 

“because you concern yourself with the feelings of a servant.” he says, words bitter as ever. 

that strikes you in a way that makes you realize: this is the man my father has promised me to. 

the gentle stroll you two had started up while talking had come to a sudden halt, stopping in your tracks as you refused to tolerate this any longer. his attitude, that is. 

“and you concern yourself with no ones, aerion.” 

your voice was hushed, yet still fiery, given you were albeit the slightest bit afraid to express your rebuttal. 

he let out a sharp, quick scoff, subtly rolling his eyes with a tight, dismissive jerk to the side. it was clear he was used to being challenged by your words, but this time, there was a bit of a lingering sting to his ego. 

“aren’t you ever satisfied? must everything become a quarrel with you?” aerion hissed in mock questioning, followed by a slight cock of his brow. his viper-like nature became more apparent with every passing moment. with any ounce of gentleness that he was capable of, his fingers wrapped around your forearm, in attempts to keep you from straying away from him or rushing to your private quarters. 

“a contract signed by our fathers does not grant you my affection. you barely keep my compliance, at best, my lord.” you spat those last two words much slower than the rest of your admission, working in your favor to remind him that he did not possess the entirety of his power over you. 

a quick huff came from his nostrils, showing his obvious disdain for your suddenly brazen mouth. aerion’s gaze upon you contracted, using the strong grip upon your silk-clad arm to almost jerk you closer. 

“you’ll begin to know your place, i assure you.” his voice became lower, quieter, like he was almost threatening you. very on-brand for the likes of a targaryen. “i haven’t asked you to love me.”

consequently, you could only look down at your feet, avoiding any direct eye-contact altogether. this relationship had been built on the very empty, unwillful promise of an heir, and nothing more. and now you had to concern yourself with the likes of his unempathetic nature. 

a breath left you, speaking much softer now, accepting that you’ve lost this battle of wits end. 

“you’ve asked me to marry you.”

“you should know those are rather different things, my lady.” he turned, beginning to leave you to reside with nothing else besides yourself, returning to court. “i shall tend to you later.”

with those last harsh words of his, a promise hung within the air. 

when he was aware his words had pierced you, he let go in satisfaction. aerion had no problem putting anyone in their place, especially you.