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celtigxr · 3 months ago

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THE PINK DREAD - CH. 38 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of Storms & Sirens; awkward conversations, feuding houses, confessions and familial betrayals. Word Count: 5515 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Medical emergencies, PTSD, anxiety attack.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by V6que pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Haiiii.... It's been... over 20 days. I know... I hope this is worth the wait. More information of my prolonged hiatus at the end of the chapter, please read, it's important for future updates.

His heart, his thoughts, his world all stopped simultaneously in that moment. The world moved slowly as Aemond turned, his eye wide, his body feeling cold with dread. The first thing he could see was Valeana’s own saucer-sized eyes stare ahead of her like she was already lost in the void of her shock and past trauma. For a moment Aemond saw Valeana’s face as a 10 year old girl, the same expression she had when he had pushed her at these very stairs.

As the world rushed back to him, as Valeana teetered back on the edge of the first stair, Aemond immediately sprung back to life.

“Valeana!” Her name came out in a rush of panic and urgency, his body flying forward before she lost her footing at the edge of the stair. In a flash, Aemond was behind her, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist as he pulled her away from the stairs immediately and as far as possible..

Valeana felt as stiff as a board in his arms; when he looked upon her face it was blanched and her eyes were fogged over as if she was lost somewhere else, and not present with him. What’s more, her hands and legs were trembling and her breathing was rapid and short.

“Valeana, Valeana, speak to me,” Aemond pleaded as he pulled her further back until he reached a wall, then slid down onto the floor. Seating himself properly, he cradled her body in his lap and started to feverishly tap her cheek to get her to look at him. Her stare was still wide-eyed, frozen in terror, her pupils blown wide.

Argumentative voices of the girls around him faded into muffled sounds. Shyla had run to his side and took Valeana’s hands in hers, and started to rub her frozen fingers in her warm ones. Her gentle, yet desperate pleas for her sister to wake up from her paralysis mixed in with Aemond’s. Meanwhile the Baratheon sisters were yelling at each other—and to no one's surprise, elder Floris was completely silent. Aemond was not looking at her, couldn't care less to remember she was still there, but he imagined she stood there frozen in shock, not knowing what to do or say.

The sound of metal clanging against each other rapidly came from down the corridor, snapping Aemond’s head to attention as two Kingsguard approached the situation. They took one look at the Prince holding onto the frozen Lady Valeana on the floor and immediately asked what happened.

“Arrest Lady Maris Baratheon!” Aemond commanded, his teeth bared as he pointed viciously towards the woman in question. “She has attacked Lady Valeana Celtigar with intent to harm. Seize her at once!”

Chaos had begun instantly when the guards seized the protesting, mad woman, who actively fought and spewed lies about how she was the one who was attacked and was defending herself. Cassandra and young Floris even had the audacity to try to explain it was a misunderstanding, despite the fact they had witnessed the assault and had berated her for it.

It all did not matter to Aemond anyway, because at the moment, Valeana was convulsing and twitching and she was making noises, short and brief like the breaths she was taking.

“SOMEONE GET THE MAESTER!”

“Where is she?!” Lord Bartimos burst through the door to the infirmary, Aemond’s head snapping in his direction as the panicked father marched through. Behind him followed the rest of the Celtigars, the worried Ursula, the fuming and panic stricken older brother, and the youngest brother who trailed behind, a soft expression on his usual stoic facade.

The infirmary was already crowded with people before they came in. A team of Maesters led by Orwyle, Aemond, Shyla, and Ellyn Baratheon, who chose to come in lieu of dealing with Maris and her family. Aemond had been in a chair by Valeana’s side, his hand gripping hers, but when Bartimos flew to the bed, Aemond had the decency to stand up and allow the man to reach his daughter’s side.

“What happened?! What is wrong with her?!” Bartimos demanded as he held onto Valeana’s hand, his fingers pressed on her pulse on instinct.

“She suffered from a seizing fit, my Lord,” Maester Orwyle informed as he took his place on the other side of the bed. “A Stress Fever.”

“A Stress Fever?” Bartimos echoed the words, foreign on his tongue. But the word ‘fit’ he knew all too well. His violet eyes turned back to his daughter, who laid asleep, her face pallid, and her eyes appear sunken like she had been sick for days. His head whipped around, landing on Shyla immediately, but settling on the Prince with a fierce gaze of accusation. “What happened?! What did you do to her, you–?!”

“Father, please,” Shyla sat up from her seat, rushing to Bartimos’ side before he could launch himself at the prince. “Prince Aemond saved Valeana.”

Bartimos’ face whipped to Shyla’s direction, his face a mixture of disbelief and surprise, “What-what do you mean ‘saved’?”

Aemond’s chest swelled in air and determination, his body still tense at the altercation that happened not even an hour ago. He was still in a state of shock from everything Maris had the gall to do, from forcing her lips upon his, right down to pushing Valeana to reenact the very fall that she suffered from ten years ago.

“Lady Maris Baratheon attacked your daughter, Lord Bartimos,” Aemond spoke, his voice painfully controlled, his jaw taut as he looked down at the slumbering Valeana. The face of terror flashed in his mind’s eye, and he felt his heart tug painfully as the recent and old memory of that very expression flickered between each other like the quivering light of an unsettled candle.

“Attacked?! Maris Barath– That bookish girl attacked my dove?!” Bartimos swiveled his head towards Shyla for confirmation. When she nodded, his eyes widened and he immediately returned to Aemond, “Why on earth would she–?”

“Pardon my interruption, Lord Bartimos,” Ellyn spoke up, saving Aemond from a rather embarrassing and convoluted explanation. “As a friend of your daughters, and a sister of her assailant, I can provide insight on what happened. Prince Aemond had rejected Lady Maris, and she reacted in a fit of jealous rage, impairing her judgement.

“There was an altercation in the floor above the lower courtyard, in which Lady Maris attempted to trap Prince Aemond into a betrothal, but Valeana valiantly interfered before a scandal could be made. Though, as a result…your daughter became a target of my sister’s desperation. Maris had pushed her while she stood near the edge of the stairwell, and Valeana would’ve nearly fallen down them hadn’t it been for Prince Aemond’s quick reaction.”

“Oh, Seven,” Ursula put a hand to her lips, as she looked down at Valeana while seating herself upon the edge of the cot and held onto her hand. “My dear girl, no wonder you went into a fit…”

Bartimos was breathing heavily, his shoulders caved with the weight of the stresses and worry of being a father. He hunched over, his hands planted on the side of the cot as his head hung low. Aemond could see the conflict in the Lord’s eyes, which were tightly shut, and the rest of his weathered face etched with deep lines. The poetic irony of the situation was not lost on a single person in the room—that Valeana had nearly fallen down the stairs (the very same ones, at that), but was saved by Aemond this time around.

After a minute of tense, emotionally conflicted contemplation, Bartimos pulled himself up and fixed Aemond with a look the prince couldn’t really identify. The older man pointed at him and silently gestured towards the door, “I need a word with you.”

Aemond’s lip thinned with uncertainty, his eye flickering over to the unconscious Valeana before giving a deep sigh and following the Lord of Claw Isle out of the infirmary. His fingers were curled into fists as if bracing himself for the unknown— of what would become of this private conversation with who he would hope to be his future father in law.

As they exited into the corridor, the door clicking shut behind them, Bartimos immediately turned to Aemond, his face taut, brows furrowed and his lips were a thin line. Though that expression didn’t last long, because suddenly the older man’s face softened to that of a broken father. With a sigh, Bartimos ran his fingers over his tired eyes before looking back at Aemond with a new kind of pained expression, one that was more conflicted.

“It is difficult to be a father, you know, especially to daughters,” The older man began, every word heavy with burdens Aemond knows not of. “When they hurt, you feel it in your soul… And it makes past transgressions difficult to forgive, even if she, herself, has.” Bartimos leaned his hand against the wall as he studied Aemond, who remained respectfully quiet.

He was quiet, but his mind was less so. Muddled with a thousand thoughts and feelings, his chest had been tight with tension ever since the incident occurred. Now he was subjected to an uncomfortable conversation with Bartimos Celtigar, a man who he has not spoken directly to in… Gods, probably ten years. Not even when he arrived here did Aemond dared to be alone in his presence.

“My lord,” Aemond began, his carefully controlled signature tone not very controlled presently as he struggled to speak. “I understand–”

“No, no, you don’t,” Bartimos interrupted, though it was not done unkindly. His hand ran over his bearded chin, his shoulder sunk. “You won’t understand until you have children of your own.”

Aemond’s lip thinned at the comment; it wasn’t the first he heard it, likely won’t be the last. Parents of all kinds loved to use that statement to undermine the intelligence of unwed youth, and there was nothing he could do to argue against it. He understood in theory, of course, the bond between parent and child, though the way he was brought up… Well, he imagined his bond with his own parents was vastly less sentimental than what Valeana had with her father or step mother.

“While my dove has not said to me explicitly that she has forgiven you for… the incident,” Barty spoke the two words through his teeth. “It has become plain in my eyes, and to the members of her family that she has, somehow, found it in herself to forgive you. And what’s plainer is that… Valeana clearly still harbours feelings for you, despite all that has happened.”

Aemond felt his chest swell at those words, though he does not know why. He knows Valeana still has feelings for him, she has thus proven that time and time again despite the fact that he has given her every ample opportunity to loathe him until the end of time.

“Valeana and I have discussed things at length, my Lord… And I will spare you the details, but know that I have dedicated myself into being worthy of her forgiveness, and of your daughter. She is precious to me, and I regret that it took me ten years to realize that…” Aemond surprised even himself at his act of vulnerability, especially before another man with whom he has no sentimental attachments to. Though he supposed if he truly wanted Valeana to be his in every meaning of the word, he would have to earn Bartimos’ approval.

The older man peered at him for a moment, his expression both difficult to read, yet Bartimos made no attempt at disguising the emotion on his face. It was a bit disconcerting to Aemond, who was usually so keen on deciphering expressions. Perhaps the princes’ own nerves were hindering this ability, he realized, which made the situation all the worse. Worse, yet necessary in the grand scheme of things.

“I hope that you do, my Prince,” Finally the man spoke, his voice a bit lower, graver. “While I do not understand the entirety of the complexity of what happened today, what I did grasp is that my daughter cares about you enough to intervene before that… deranged Baratheon girl–” He gave a huff, shaking his head before continuing. “Caused a scandal upon you. And… And I am grateful that you were there to save her from… another…”

Bartimos’ head hung low—it was plain as the sun in the sky that it was beyond painful for him to express gratitude towards the Prince who he has resented the most in these last ten years. Aemond swallowed thickly, feeling uncomfortable and a bit relieved to hear those words.

“As a fellow Valyrian and a man, you know well as I that our pride is our greatest strength and our most cumbersome fault. With that, I am sure you understand it is no easy feat for me to say this to you, Prince Aemond, but… if you wish to court my daughter, you have my blessing…”

Aemond’s face went slack, his bottom lip fell open a fraction. He nearly stepped forwards towards the man, the need to take a hold of his shoulders in gratitude nearly making him forget to read the room. Instead, his brow furrowed in his earnest appreciation, a slight bow towards the Lord of Claw Isle, “Your blessing is an honour, my Lord, and a privilege. I do not know what to say other than… you will not regret it.”

“Be sure you don’t,” Bartimos spoke, his gruff, authoritative voice coming back to him as he collected himself. “Because this is your one and only chance— And speaking of courtships that I regret ever allowing to happen… Where in the Seven Hells is your brother?”

Aemond opened his mouth to answer, but he found himself surprised by the question itself, as well as that he did not actually know. Aegon was openly courting Valeana, that much the entire damn Kingdom knew at this point, but he was not here.

“I…do not know, my Lord,” Aemond confessed.

Bartimos scoffed, “When you find him, Prince Aemond, do the pleasure of letting him know that he treads on thin ice.”

It was the day after and much has happened in the last twenty-four hours. King Viserys was deprived of sleep due to the tragic, unforeseen events that transpired between Maris Baratheon and Valeana Celtigar. The tensions between these two houses were already strained, doubly so due to the fact that his youngest son was caught between Shyla Celtigar’s legs, forcing the two to be wedded, spurring Floris Baratheon in the process.

The Council room was teeming with activity, of shouting and pleading, as the King sat at the front of the table, spectating both sides of the table arguing. Bartimos was yelling at Borros about how his daughter assaulted his ‘precious dove’, and Borros was yelling that Shyla had stolen his daughter’s ‘precious’ intended. It was quite plain to see who was in the right there, though even the King could not deny the transgression between Shyla and Daeron had been an unfortunate and unnecessary slight upon the Baratheons. Daeron was intended to marry Floris Baratheon, and while that had not been publicly decreed, it was a fact that everyone knew, including the young Shyla who had been friends with the girl as well. However, given the circumstances, Viserys’ hands were tied in that matter.

“Enough!” The King shouted, rapping his cane against the table to get everyone in the room to shut up. They did, though with reluctance as each side clung to their last words. With a sharp eye from their king, their mouths clamped shut. Viserys gestured harshly to their seats, and one by one they pulled out their chairs and sat down across from each other.

Ursula and Bartimos were on his right, and Borros and Otto were on his left. Queen Alicent sat before him, her face taut and unsure of the circumstance that fell on the lap of the crown. Then there was Ser Criston Cole who stood by, as well as Harrold Westerling, the commander of the Kingsguard. The other members of the Small Council were not present, because this matter would only be settled amongst the families involved.

But there were others that needed to be present, and that were the witnesses to the crimes and events.

“Now we must first discuss the matter at hand, and that is the assault on the Lady Valeana Celtigar,” The King began.

“There was no assault,” Borros insisted, his chest swelling in bravado. “It was self defence! My own daughters saw the incident… Bartimos’ reckless girl went to attack my Maris–”

“That is not what happened! Lies, all of it!”

“Enough!” The King banged his cane on the table again. “Neither of you saw what happened, and I will not make judgements based on hearsay from third parties. Ser Criston, bring them in, will you?”

With a curt bow of his head, the broad knight sauntered over to the door and opened it, allowing the witnesses to filter into the room in a single line. First came Floris the younger, then Ellyn, Cassandra, Shyla, Floris the Elder and finally, Prince Aemond.

The six youths stood before the table in a line, facing King Viserys. His son, Aemond, at the far right, kept his arms behind his back, while the women had their hands clasped demurely at their laps.

“I am sure you lot know why you’ve been summoned here today,” The King leaned back in his seat, his cane sitting between his legs as he balanced his eight-fingered hands upon it. “I shall hear each one of your accounts of the events that transpired yesterday. Lady Cassandra, I will hear yours first,” His head inclined to the eldest Baratheon daughter’s direction.

Cassandra weaved a tale of scandal immediately, claiming that she had been walking around the bend on that floor with Ellyn and Floris the younger when she came upon Aemond kissing Lady Maris. Viserys caught the glare of his son when she had confessed this, his jaw grinding as he fought the urge to speak. The King was no fool; Aemond was not like Daeron nor was he like Aegon by any stretch— he would never be persuaded or seduced by a woman, especially one he had expressed disinterest in. Especially knowing that his son’s eyes were on only one woman.

Younger Floris gave a similar account, though much meeker and not as detailed or passionate. The two major factors that he gathered in both stories were that they both believed Aemond kissed Maris out of his own free will, if not initiated it in the first place. Though when it came to the attempt on Valeana's life, Cassandra was more confident in saying that Valeana made a move to take a swing at Maris, and Maris pushed her away before that could happen. Floris’ account was not so detailed and she had only said that she ‘believed’ her sister was defending herself, and it ended up horribly.

It was Lady Ellyn’s testimonial, however, that surprised Viserys the most. He knew vaguely that she and Valeana were friends, though he was not privy to the friendships of ladies of court, so he couldn’t know the depth of the friendship. He had assumed that Ellyn would side with her sister—as blood was thicker than water for all the great houses—but that was not the case. Ellyn’s account of what she initially saw was simply that Aemond and Maris were kissing, but she made an emphasis on the fact that in her position, there wasn’t a way to tell who was forcing who, or if it was mutual.

“However, your Grace, I may include that if I were to make an assumption based on the character of Aemond, I do not see him acting upon public displays of affection like that so brazenly, especially prior to marriage.”

“And you believe your sister is capable of it?!” Borros asked immediately, his tone defensive and outraged at Ellyn’s betrayal of her kin.

“Lord Borros, please hold your tongue,” Viserys raised a hand to stop him from speaking further. “Lady Ellyn, continue.”

Ellyn’s lips were in a firm line when she inhaled deeply and continued, “Under normal circumstances, Maris conducts herself as a Lady should. But it was not under normal circumstances—she was a woman scorned.”

Ellyn then goes on to describe the events that unfolded in more detail than her sister, Cassandra, including the insults Maris flung in Valeana’s direction. Though the catalyst for the shove itself greatly differed from the testimonials of Cassandra and young Floris, as she detailed that Maris seemed to snap when Aemond emphasized he did not want Maris. It was then that Valeana was unpredictably pushed.

It was then Shyla’s turn to recount what she saw. The different perspective was from the lower courtyard, though she confessed she did not witness who initiated the kiss, but had stated she very clearly saw Prince Aemond push Maris away and kept her at arm's length. Shyla then went on to say that Valeana had run up the stairs when she saw what happened, and by the time she and her sister Floris reached the top of the stairs, Maris was arguing with Ellyn and Valeana about who kissed who. When Shyla began to account how Valeana fell, it was nearly identical to Ellyn’s, though spoken with less detail and more emotion. Shyla seemed to put great emphasis on the emotional turmoil of Aemond when he reacted in saving Valeana, and how both she and him tried to coax Valeana out of her seizing.

When it came to Floris Grafton speaking, there was a notable shift in the room. Bartimos was fixing her with a fatherly glare, and Aemond was side-eying her, his jaw grinding in anticipation. Floris was, for once, visibly uncomfortable. She did not hold the usual snooty air about her—with her nose turned upward, or her lips pinched and pursed— but she appeared more like an apprehensive hen, wide eyed and fidgeting, not knowing where to put herself or her eyes.

“Lady Floris?” The King tilted her head at her as she hesitated.

Floris pulled her lips under her teeth for a moment before clearing her throat and looking down at her folded hands for a brief moment, then forced herself to lift her eyes back up to Viserys. “I witnessed Lady Maris pull Prince Aemond by the scruff of his doublet and kiss him by force, your Grace,” her confession caused a visible wave of surprise. Aemond’s jaw had relaxed, but his eye widened. Borros scoffed, and Cassandra and younger Floris stared at her as if she had just conducted the most vicious of betrayals.

“Did you, now?” Viserys put down his hand from his chin and danced his fingers on the table. “Of all the girls present, you are the only one who witnessed the action being initiated. How is that possible?”

“Well, your Grace, I suppose it was just the right timing,” Floris continued, her voice so painfully controlled as she nervously tried to find the words to speak. “I looked up from the Lower Courtyard and saw it, then I pointed it out to my sister, Valeana… And when she saw it, she immediately fled up the stairs to them. Shyla saw it last, just when Aemond had pushed away Maris. After that, we ran to catch up.”

“That is interesting,” Viserys mused, eyeing the girl carefully. “You were the only, if not the first to witness the act that started it all. Please continue, Lady Floris. What happened after?”

Floris ran her teeth over her bottom lip, her eyes trailing off as she tried to recall the events that unfolded, “When we ran up the stairs, they were already arguing about who had kissed who. When my sister, Shyla, had mentioned what she had seen, Lady Maris called her a tramp–”

“She did what?!” Bartimos nearly shot out of his seat, but the King shot him a glare, which effectively made him sit back in his seat and stew.

“Valeana defended Shyla, and then many barbs and words were exchanged back and forth, between Valeana, Maris and Prince Aemond. It became clear that Maris was not dealing with Prince Aemond’s rejection. It escalated, Maris called Valeana a pig at least three times, if I remember correctly. The Prince warned her of the repercussions of doing so and made it adamantly clear that he did not want Maris as a wife. That is when she snapped and… pushed my ste— sister.”

There was a beat of silence as the King absorbed everything she said, though he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to flicker between Borros and Bartimos to gauge their reactions. The former seemed to be silently fuming, his hand running down his face as he subtly cursed under his breath. The latter seemed to be eyeing his step daughter closely, his face stern, but his eyes light with pride as he gave her a subtle nod.

Viserys hummed in response, his hand moving over his muzzle before his eyes settled on his son at last.

“Aemond,” He finally addressed him, leaning back against his chair, his head tilted up as he peered up at his second son. “As the figure at the center of all of this, your account of the events are invaluable.”

Aemond bowed his head as she took a step forward, his arms swinging to his sides as he dominated the floor when he approached the table. His one eye landed on Lord Borros, not a single sliver of intimidation on his face when he addressed the Stormlord.

“It will be of no surprise to you, my Lord Borros, that my interest in your daughter has waned these last few days,” Aemond began, earning a heated glare and a grunt from the lord he’s addressing. “Two days ago, I approached Lady Maris in the library to express this. She did not take the rejection well, and had threatened the crown on your behalf.”

Borros seemed to be taken back by that; his brow furrowed and he leaned back as if he had been struck, “She did what?”

“Yes, she had heavily implied that you would retaliate against the crown simply for two princes spurring your daughters, on top of expressing her entitlement to not only myself but of my brother, Daeron,” Aemond spoke matter-of-factly, his attention pulling from Borros and onto his father. “Of course, when she had said such treason, I had warned her of the repercussions, and it seemed at the time, she had sense enough to listen.

“However, by the next day that was not the case. Lady Maris intercepted me in the hall, having no intention in heeding my warnings nor respecting my decision; she stated so herself before she put her hands upon me and forced her lips upon my own. Her intention was clear, to cause a public scandal, to force my hand into marriage in sheer desperation. What she did not account for was that not only would I never allow myself to be subjected to such an act, but that there would be other witnesses other than her sisters,” He looked over, emphasizing on the Celtigar girls.

Aemond then went on to explain the situation that followed, which mirrored a lot of Ellyn, Shyla, and Elder Floris’ account, though with much more mechanical detail. Though he expressively made emphasis on Maris’ clear jealousy of Valeana, and had concurred with the testimonials of Maris insulting not just Valeana, but of Shyla as well. He didn’t, however, throw elder Floris under the carriage wheels by outing her betrayal that day. She had redeemed herself by actually speaking the truth where it mattered, so for her sake, and the sake of the merit of her story, he left that part out.

“And the final thing Maris had said before she had pushed Valeana was: ‘I will never be your wife… And neither shall Valeana Celtigar.’ It was… an act of intent, your Grace, that Lady Maris wished to cause harm upon Valeana.”

With that final statement, the room rang with tension and silence. There was no rebuttal or attempt at contradicting his words, not from Cassandra or younger Floris. In fact, Viserys noted that they both shared a look of worry with each other. He watched every one of the girls’ expressions carefully before looking back at his son, who’s stoicism was on but a thin thread as he had to recall the traumatic experience.

The King heaved a deep sigh as he shared a look with his wife, who had surprisingly been quiet during this entire interrogation. Her lips were in a thin line, much like her father’s was, and that is when Viserys ancient violet eyes settled on Borros.

“Lord Borros,” he began, lacing his fingers on his lap. “Out of respect for your house, I would have your opinion on the evidence given before us. It is clear that your daughter, Maris, has been the one to cause strife, despite Cassandra and young Floris’ efforts to protect her. Your third daughter, Ellyn, had even testified against her.”

Borros' hands were balled into large fists on the table and his face was as red as a ripe tomato, but he did a damn good job at containing his anger as he inhaled deeply and exhaled through his nose. The evidence was damning, not even he could deny it and judging by the look of disappointment etched with his anger, Borros was aware that Maris was very much capable of everything that she was being accused of.

“Lord Bartimos,” The stormland began, fixing his eyes on the lord across the table. “I wish to apologize on the behalf of my house for the grievousness that was inflicted upon your daughter at the hands of my turbulent and misguided daughter. If it pleases you, my Lord, and your Grace, I shall be the one to punish her accordingly.”

Bartimos leaned back in his chair peering at him curiously, as did King Viserys. The latter of which tilted his head and asked him what he had in mind.

“I will enlist Maris into a motherhouse to become a Silent Sister. Her future and fate sealed as penance for the dual sins she has committed against both Lady Valeana and Prince Aemond—” Cassandra gave a gasp at her father’s words, her hands flying to her mouth. Floris the younger and Ellyn both had widened eyes of shock, not expecting their proud father would actually go as far as to rip Maris’ future from her hands. Ellyn especially would have assumed her father would beg for forgiveness, and simply ask for the mercy of just having her hands whipped. “-- As well, I believe it is best that I take my girls back to Storm’s End.”

“Father–” Cassandra immediately spoke, but was interrupted by the gesture of his raised hand.

“I have decided. Maris’ crime is humiliating enough, but I cannot forget that my darling Floris has also been humiliated,” Borros’ tone turned icy at this reminder, but he quickly reigned it in when he cleared his throat. “This Conclave has not benefited my House, it would seem. To preserve our dignity, I believe it is best–”

“Lord Borros, if I may,” Surprising everyone, Ursula spoke up for the first time. She shared a look with Queen Alicent, a silent communication that told that this was a conversation they both already had. “The business between Prince Daeron and our youngest was never our intent. My heart bleeds for your dear Floris. As a mother myself, all I ever wanted was to see my children not just content but happy. And it does destroy me to see your daughter’s happiness taken away from you.”

Alicent hummed in agreement, making her presence more known as she leaned against her laced fingers on the table, her eyes fixed on Borros in that diplomatic and placating way women of power knew how to do. “Me and Lady Ursula have conversed in length, and we both agreed that you and your daughters deserve to be compensated for your injustice. We propose marriage betrothals for your girls, sans Maris, of course.”

Viserys’ eyebrows reached his hairline, but he did not seem perturbed that he was kept in the dark about this— he seemed almost delighted and intrigued. “You’ve been conspiring betrothals under my nose, Alicent?”

“Apologies, husband, but I did not get the opportunity to speak to you about this sooner. With the events that unfolded yesterday, it feels like today is the best time to bring it up,” Alicent explained, clearly prepared for Viserys’ surprise.

“Alright,” The king tapped his fingers, clearly interested in this new development. He looked between Borros and Bartimos and then back at his wife, “I am intrigued. What are your betrothal offers?”

SNEAK PEEK When she fled, Aegon was left standing in his bedchamber, a vision of sweat and tears, a pool of red wine at his feet like a mocking reminder of what he had done— what he allowed himself to get lost in.

Notes: So, yes, no Valeana in this chapter, but necessary. Girl's in a medical induced coma, give her a break. So, the Baratheon drama arc is closed. Now the next drama. :3 Also, where's Aegon--- Wait, what is he doing? AEGON-- Hokay, but for reals now, let's get serious. I've been dealing with a lot these last few weeks, doctor appointments, bad news, good news, medium news under that umbrella. My muse has been burnt out, to be completely honest, and I'm really *trying*, but it's a struggle lately. I was going to use the 14-20 (now a month) days to catch up on my quota and work on that one shot, but I didn't end up doing that. I ended up working on other distractions unrelated to fanfiction. I'm not giving up on this story, I made a commitment to myself that I'll actually see this through. But that means updates will be a lot slower, I'm sorry. I'm hoping once I push through chapter 43, I can get my momentum going, or at least find a way to spark my muse up again. I hope you guys understand and aren't too impatient! I appreciate the patience this far, especially since I left y'all on a cliffhanger.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

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Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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