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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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😭🥰😭🥰

A Song of Flames & Fury (Ch.16)

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!OC

previous chapter ~ next chapter (coming soon)

Read more on AO3

fic summary: Elyse Baratheon is Princess Helaena’s childhood companion and closest friend. Jacaerys Velaryon has loved her since childhood. Aemond Targaryen loathes the idea of love. A Baratheon in the capital changes the Dance of Dragons, and the realm holds its breath.

chapter summary: Elyse awakes to a devastating realization.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: none for this chapter, posted early happy valentines loves!

Chapter 16: Betrayed

Elyse dreamt of dragons.

That she was on Vhagar’s back, Aemond’s hands around her waist, face tucked into the crook of her neck. It was so real, she could feel the strands of his silver hair slipping through her fingers like quicksilver, feel his lips caress her neck.

When she awoke, she was in a soft feather bed.

Her hands tangled in the silk sheets. Eyes heavy, mouth dry as cotton. Elyse’s head pounded, the remainder of Dreamwine a lingering ache within her skull. She pressed her palm against her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut.

Light flooded through the room, so bright she could see it through her eyelids. So bright she could not see where she was. Elyse blinked several times attempting to adjust to the harsh light.

She was in a room. A fire roared in the great fireplace, the crackling of the burning logs the only sound in the room. Elyse grits her teeth together, forcing herself up on her elbows.

A cup sits beside the bed, full to the brim with wine. Elyse grabs it, greedily sucking down the warm liquid, beads of red escaping the corners of her lips as she drinks. She tosses the cup when she is done. Aemond would call her foolish for drinking it.

“Mayhaps it was poison, what then?” she could hear him say, as though he was whispering in her ear now, causing a shiver to roll through her.

Someone had changed her. Elyse now wore a silk nightgown. How long had she been asleep? She notices a chamber pot and moves on shaky legs to relieve herself.

Elyse released a shallow breath, her entire body beginning to tremble. The room is large, and grand, with silk tapestries decorating the walls. Pinks, purples, and lavish are the silks blowing gently in the breeze an open veranda lets in.

Where is she?

Elyse feels tears in her eyes as panic courses through her veins, twisting up her throat begging to be released. She feels her legs fail her, dropping to the wooden floor. She clutches at her throat as though to contain the scream that bubbles there.

Swallow your fear, Aemond had told her once.

Elyse pushes against the ground, forcing herself to rise. She scans the room, landing on a table in front of the fire. Her blade, Elenei lays there, unsheathed, reflecting the flames in the blade. They have left her weapon. Not a threat then. How could she be? Just a silly little girl.

Let them think me foolish when I shove my blade between their ribs, she thinks solemnly.

Elyse pads over on bare feet, snatching the blade between her fingers as the door to her room creaks open.

Elyse crouches by the side of the table as a maid enters. She is a young girl, holding fresh towels and linens in her arms. She looks at the bed in confusion with the ruffled blankets and missing Elyse.

Elyse springs forward, grabbing the girl by her hair, pressing her blade against the skin of her throat. The maid gasps, a fearful noise leaving her as she drops what she holds to the floor.

“Don’t scream,” Elyse hisses, grabbing a fistful of the girl's mousy brown hair. Tears flow freely down the maid’s cheeks as she struggles to catch her breath. Elyse keeps her grip hard, pressing Elenei hard enough to draw blood.

“M-my lady, p-p-please,” the girl says, causing Elyse’s grip on her hair to tighten.

“Don’t speak,” Elyse snarls, before shoving her through the door into the hall.

The girl is openly weeping as Elyse holds her in front.

“Take me to your lord,” Elyse demands. Her hands shake the entire time, but she keeps her blade pressed against the maid’s throat.

Swallow your fear.

The maid shifts her feet, slowly dragging herself and Elyse down the corridor. The hallway is lit with torches but gives away nothing about where Elyse is.

Elyse feels her mouth downturn into a frustrated frown as she continues down the hall. Her feet are freezing on the stone floor and her nightgown clings to her with fearful sweat.

The maid begins to sob, the sounds echoing throughout the corridor. Surely someone shall hear them. Elyse can taste bile in her throat.

Someone is going to find me and then someone is going to kill me, or worse, Elyse thinks to herself, causing her stomach to churn. What point was there, keeping her alive if not some unspeakable horror soon to befall her?

Elyse feels something inside of her harden with the realization.

No, I shall turn my blade on myself before I let that happen.

Tears fill her eyes, and her heart lurches.

Aemond shall understand. Aemond will forgive me.

The maid reaches to touch a great door, much like that of the throne room doors in the Red Keep. Elyse changes positions, making the maid standing in front of her completely before pushing her through the doors.

“M-m-my lord, please,” the maid sobs, before Elyse pushes her to the ground in a shrieking crumbling heap.

Elyse holds her blade high in front of her, as she looks upon her captors.

She meets the deep brown eyes of Jacaerys Velaryon.

Elyse drops her dagger to the floor, the sapphire hilt catching the light. Her jaw slacks and she feels as though the walls of her chest have begun to cave in. Silent tears roll down her cheeks, their saltiness stinging her chapped lips.

It was Jace.

Of course, it was Jace.

The boy who saved her from monsters comes to her aid once more.

The boy who wrote to her.

The boy who waited outside her door.

“What have you done?” Elyse hissed, her voice a strained whisper, her eyes wide.

Jace looked at her eyes wide, hands held outstretched before him. A surrender, a plea.

“What have you done!?” Elyse screamed running towards him.

She slaps him then, an angry red mark scathing his cheek. She struck him again, tears streaming down her face. Jace did not move to stop her or block the blows that struck his face as she continued her assault, his mouth a tight line. He said nothing as she beat her fists upon his chest.

“Please, Elyse stop!” a voice begged, thin arms throwing themselves around her back, tearing her from Jace.

Floris Baratheon had rushed to her sister’s side, entrapping her in a firm hug.

Elyse wept, sinking to the floor, still constricted in Floris’ grasp. Floris held her tightly, her head buried in her shoulder. Their dark hair tangled together, and two daughters of House Baratheon reunited at last.

“What have you done?” she repeated again, through her sobs.

A knight glanced towards Jacaerys, who waved him off. Jace knelt next to Elyse then, his eyes kind, cheeks red. His gaze held no anger, just solemn acceptance.

“I had to get you out,” he said softly and Elyse shook her head.

“You’ve killed us all,” she whispered, feeling Floris’ arms tighten around her.

“It was not right-,” Jace continued but Elyse cut him off.

“He is my husband!” she yelled.

Jace took his tongue between his teeth, as though remembering his own bride.

“Is that what troubles you?” he asked. “We can get the marriage annulled, it was against your will.”

Elyse stared at the man before her incredulously.

“Against my will?” she said, phrased as a question. “You believe he forced me?”

Jace continued to stare.

“You believe he ruined me?” she continued, a mad laugh escaping her lips.

In Jace’s eyes, she realizes he sees her as still the small child in need of protection. A maiden kept prisoner by a monster. Elyse’s body slacked, causing Floris to release her grip.

“Oh Jace,” Elyse breathed, fear replacing her anger, “what have you done?”

She stares at the boy she has known all her life, as though she does not recognize him now. His dark eyes are unfamiliar; he is a stranger to her, to the wife of Aemond Targaryen.

Elyse supposed they were different people now, an heir to the Iron Throne and a princess.

“Come,” Floris says, rising from the floor.

She keeps her arms around Elyse, attempting to pull her upwards. Elyse can feel them shaking.

“Let us get you a warm bath, and have you changed,” Floris says, as Elyse finds her footing.

She hadn’t noticed another presence enter the room, until looking up and meeting the brown eyes of Maceon Tyrell. His expression was pained, lips parted. She must look an awful fright to him now, no longer the summer maiden at the harvest feast.

Elyse kept her gaze low as Floris escorted her from the room.

She did not return to the chamber she had awoken in, Floris had her brought to her own chambers. A similar room, though much larger, bursting with flowers in every corner. A steaming tub was prepared in the center of the room, which Elyse continued to stare at. A handmaid dropped some rose petals in the smooth water before Floris dismissed her.

Floris had grown into a little lady, a head smaller than Elyse, though only slightly younger, with a willowy figure inherited from her mother’s side. Her blue eyes were dreamlike, dark hair was pulled off of her face in an elaborate braid. Her expression was familiar, and Elyse felt an ache in her heart as she thought of Helaena.

She moved toward Elyse, nimble fingers helping her undress. Elyse felt as though she were outside of her body, watching the scene from above. Floris’ eyes searched her sister’s face, and she began to worry. She removed the gown, collecting it in her palms.

“Oh, Elyse,” she said suddenly, “your monthly blood.”

Elyse looked down at the silk nightgown, the red patch that spread like spilled wine. An ache filled her womb. No child then. Nothing, no one to remind her of Aemond if he…if he…

She could not finish the thought, her throat constricted, with tears prickling at the back of her eyes. Floris helped her into the tub, and Elyse sank into the scalding water, relishing the feeling of the heat on her skin.

Floris stayed next to her and began to stroke her hair. Even when Elyse began to cry, Floris wrapped her thin fingers around her arm and sat beside her. Sobs wracked through her body, causing the water to ripple around her. Elyse began to calm as the water turned cold, her fingers pruning.

“What was he like?” Floris asked suddenly, as though unable to help herself.

Elyse turned her head, the water rippling with the movement.

“Aemond cares for me,” she tells her sister, “he loves me, truly.”

“Do you not love Jacaerys?” Floris asked, eyes wide.

“Of course I do,” Elyse tells her, “but not as a husband, not in the way I love Aemond.”

Floris nods, thoughts flickering to Lord Maceon, Elyse presumed.

“There is to be a war over this,” Elyse tells her, watching Floris’ cheeks redden.

“Aemond shall not take kindly to the snatching of his wife.”

Floris purses her lips, casting her eyes toward the floor.

“I told them not to,” she whispers suddenly, “when Jacaerys arrived. I told them you were happy, for them to read your letters and see.”

“They would not?” Elyse asked, already knowing the answer.

Floris nodded.

“Jacaerys was convinced. He was half mad when he arrived when he learned the news of your marriage and the broken betrothal,” Floris continued, “I do not believe he expected my presence, I think he wanted to offer your hand to Lord Maceon once more, avenging the slight.”

“Jace has always been hard-headed,” Elyse says solemnly, “what of Rhaenyra? She could not have agreed to this foolishness.”

Floris frowns, pretty mouth downturned.

“Prince Daemon assisted,” she whispers, “your ladies-maid, Tasha. It is he she is loyal to.”

Elyse feels a chill run down her spine, gooseflesh blossoming on her exposed skin.

“Lord Maceon agreed regardless,” Floris told her, “agreed that my kin should not be left in dangerous hands.”

“He’s not dangerous,” Elsye argued, “not to me, Aemond would never.”

The sisters are silent for a moment, the soft sound of the rippling water moving against the tub the only sound in the room.

“What do you believe he shall do?” Floris asks.

Elyse let the question sink in for a moment. She remembered on the eve of their betrothal, the night of Aegon’s coronation feast, asking Aemond a similar question of what he would do if Lord Maceon called his banners for her hand.

“I think Jacaerys has made a terrible mistake,” Elyse says, staring off into the distance, “and the realm is going to burn for it.”

“Aemond, calm yourself,” Alicent begged, not for the first time that evening.

Her second son paces in her chambers, as he has been for the majority of the evening. Alicent’s face is concerned, her eyes rimmed red from the events of the evening. She presses a hand to her heart as though it may stop the pain she feels there watching her son’s fury.

The war of ravens had ended and Princess Rhaenyra’s time had run out. War was upon them.

Aemond had returned to the Red Keep in a rage, soaked to the bone from his journey from Storm’s End. He had nearly not returned, bent on returning to the Riverlands and scorching the earth to ruins.

His trip there was uneventful, save deterring his uncle from laying claim to the Riverlands. Daemon remained at Harrenhal, and Aemond had promised to return with an army at his back. But first, he would join his wife at her ancestral seat.

Aemond was blinded by rage ever since entering the Round Hall of Storm’s End.

The seat of House Baratheon had been in a panic when he arrived. His lady was missing, along with the maid who accompanied her on the journey. When Lord Borros received him, his voice shook delivering the news to the one-eyed dragon prince.

His lady, his Elyse.

Vhagar lamented the entire journey back to King’s Landing, the sound of her cries heard from every corner of the Stormlands.

“Aemond,” Helaena begged, her face tear-stained, tearing him from his thoughts.

Helaena stood, shaking like a leaf, her silver hair hanging limply around her face. Her eyes were wide, shining with tears.

“Please,” Helaena hisses, holding an arm out toward him.

“We need to move, to plan now,” Aemond growls, continuing to pace around the room.

“Aegon has declared war against Rhaenyra, this is madness,” Helaena tells him.

“Who do you think took her?” Aemond shouts, “They have stolen my wife, and you suppose we do nothing?”

Helaena’s eyes widened, this time with anger.

“Do you think I am not distraught?” Helaena asked, her voice a shrill shriek, “she was mine first, Aemond. Before she was ever yours. I loved her first.”

Aemond’s mouth remained a tight line, but Helaena could see his chin tremble. Helaena had only seen Aemond cry a handful of times in her life. It sent a chill down her spine, seeing the cracks of his armored heart split open.

“I love her too,” Helaena said, kinder this time.

She moves toward her brother, holding onto him. Aemond slacks at her touch, leaning into her.

“I do not know where she is,” Aemond says quietly, desperately.

Helaena holds him against her, stroking his silver hair as tears stream down her face.

“We shall find her,” Helaena promises.

“I will burn it to ash,” Aemond whispers a promise of his own.

Helaena’s mouth is set in a tight line, though her lower lip begins to tremble, as she begins to grow colder hugging Aemond’s soaked form, the warmth being leached from her skin.

Alicent moves toward her children, reaching her hand out to stroke Helaena’s hair. Her eyes are sad, and a tear falls down her cheek.

note: thanks for being patient, hope you enjoy it! 💚

taglist: @minttea07 @tssf-imagines, @queenofshinigamis

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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I do ! 🥰

i found this tiktok of aemond targaryen doing mr. darcy’s proposal monologue and it has me yearning

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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💚💚💚 I loved it!!!

A Night Out ~ Aemond x Reader

request: So now that requests are open 😏…. What do you think about a fic where y/n has lived in kings landing her whole life but has never left the safety of the red keep. She expresses to her best friend Helaena that she wants to travel the world one day but when Aegon over hears her he makes fun of her with Aemond, telling her she wouldn’t last a day. To prove them wrong she sneaks out of the castle but Aemond follows her to make sure she doesn’t get hurt 🥰 ~ @missscarletta7 word count: 1.1k warnings: suggestive language, mentions of reader being in danger, nothing explicit note: love this request, I love me a protective Aemond 😩 thanks for the request friend 💚

“I should like to travel,” you tell Helaena, who rests with her head in your lap, eyes closed as the summer sun washes over her.

“Would you?” Helaena murmurs, keeping her eyes closed. A soft smile decorates her lovely face.

“You wouldn’t last a day in the world,” Aegon says, chuckling from where he also lays in the grass.

The days had grown cold with the promise of autumn, but for some reason today the weather was lovely. The sun bathed the gardens in warmth, which led to everyone spending as much time in the sun as possible.

Aemond doesn’t lay, he is seated on a bench nearby, and a book open across his lap as he listens to the conversation. Your cheeks flush at Aegon’s teasing.

“That is not true-”

“It is true,” he says sitting up to face you, “you’ve been kept in the Keep your whole life. The second you leave this castle wicked men will corrupt you.”

Helaena opens her eyes then, turning her head toward her brother.

“Come now Aeg, you shall frighten her,” she says, defending her lady-in-waiting. Aegon shrugs.

“I speak only the truth, a lovely creature such as yourself is destined to ruin.”

Your mouth drops open, cheeks pink.

“What horrible things you say, Aegon,” you scold, “and anyhow it is not like I would go unarmed.”

Aegon cocks a brow at you.

“And what access to the armory do you have, my lady?” he questions causing you to pout.

“Ser Criston would allow me a weapon of my choosing, I am sure of it,” you tell him. Aegon chuckles.

“That would be rather unwise of him,” Aemond chimes in, “considering you’ve never had a lesson with the blade in your life.”

Your frown deepens.

“How hard can it be?” you challenge, causing Aemond to close his book.

“Hard enough,” Aemond tells you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Stay where it is safe, my lady,” he tells you, “I hope to not see you on my own adventures into the streets of King’s Landing.”

Your cheeks seem to darken at this, knowing Aegon is referring to his trips to the Streets of Silk.

That night you decide you will go into town. You shall prove them wrong.

Aemond was returning from a rather late night spent in the library. He has gotten into reading a new book and lost track of time, only stopping when his candle fizzled out.

As he walked down the silent corridors he spotted you, a cape draped over your shoulders, as you pulled the hood over your head. Where on earth were you going? What were you doing?

Your movements were slow and calculated as you evaded several goldcloaks, as a small kitten would evade the crashing feet of passersby. Aemond found himself smirking, as he watched you. Grabbing a cloak of his own, he decided he would follow you. He could not let one of his sister’s ladies fall prey to the madness outside of these walls. It wouldn’t be right.

Somehow, someway, he followed as you made your way through the gates unseen.

He follows behind you, remaining unseen as you find your way to a tavern. Aemond enters several moments after you, planning to continue to guard you against afar.

You sit at a table, removing your hood, eyes lit up with wonder. A tavern girl walks over to you.

“What’ll it be?” she says, gruffly, with her hands on her hips.

“Is there something you recommend?” you ask and the lady makes a face at you.

“We have mead, and we have bread,” she tells you.

“Sounds lovely,” you tell her and she walks away, perplexed.

Aemond chuckles to himself, keeping his head low. He is terribly recognizable, let alone with just his Valyrian coloring. The eyepatch does not allow for anonymity.

“Hello beautiful,” a voice says, causing you to turn. A man gazes down at you.

“Good evening,” you say politely, feeling your heartbeat thumping against your chest.

“Fancy a shag?” he asks, and your eyes widen.

“No,” you tell him, but he grabs your arm, pulling you from your seat.

“Come deary, let me show you what I can-”

The man never has the chance to finish his sentence as he is torn away from you. You fall back against the table, the corner biting into your hip. The man had been thrown to the floor and moaned in pain.

You look toward your savior, a tall man hidden behind a cloak.

“The lady said no,” he says, voice caressing you like silk. Wait a minute. You know that voice.

Your savior turns to you, keeping his head low, but you spot the patch across his face.

“Aem-” you begin before he brings a finger to his lips to silence you.

“Come,” he says, taking your hand and leading you from the tavern into the streets. He brings you to a nearby alley, away from the bustling chatter of the nightlife.

“Did you follow me?” you accuse.

“I only planned on watching, if only you needed assistance,” he tells you, “which you did.”

“I could have handled myself,” you argue.

“Oh could you?” he teases, but his eye widens as you reveal a small blade from the pockets of your skirts.

“Yes,” you insist.

Aemond lets out a laugh.

“You planned to stab a man in the middle of a tavern?”

“I will do what needs to be done!” you tell him, “I am not a maiden in need of protection.”

You remind him yet again of a small kitten, claws out. Aemond finds himself grinning at your ferocity.

“What if I enjoy protecting you?” he tells you.

You scoff, cheeks reddening.

“You are making fun of me,” you accuse, bringing a hand up to push his chest.

Aemond grabs your hand, taking a step forward, forcing you backward until your back hits the wall.

“What would you do?” he asks, as your breathing picks up, “if I was a madman, wanting to have his way with you right now, right here?”

You wet your lips at the implication.

“Because that is what that man was thinking,” he tells you, his face serious, “stab me? The goldcloaks would throw you in a black cell. Or worse.”

Your gaze flickers to his mouth before you turn your head away.

“I just wanted to see,” you tell him, “I know, I know it is dangerous. I just do not wish to live life like a prisoner.”

Aemond watches you as your eyes become glassy with frustrated tears.

“I can give you that,” Aemond tells you, placing a hand under your chin. You meet his gaze.

“You need only ask,” Aemond continues, watching as your lips part.

“Please,” you beg, and Aemond connects his lips to yours, kissing you with such ferocity you are sure you shall melt into the wall behind you.

“I shall not be kept locked up in the Keep,” you breathe against his mouth. He hums before kissing you once more.

“You do not need to be,” he murmurs, “Vhagar can take you anywhere you wish to go. As long as you take me with you.”

note: UGH my heart explodes with fluffy protective Aemond why can't I be pushed up against a wall by him 😩 hope you enjoyed it loves 💚

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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I don’t know if I can handle this cliffhanger 😭

Thanks again for writing so many fics 💚 you make my day most days ! 🥰

A Song of Flames & Fury (Ch.15)

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!OC

previous chapter ~ next chapter (coming soon)

Read more on AO3

chapter summary: Elyse journeys home to the Stormlands. Old wounds are opened as she reunites with her family.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none for this chapter

The rain begins to fall from the sky as Elyse crosses into the Stormlands welcoming her home. She looks up from her horse as the fat, wet drops fall onto her face.

“We shall arrive soon, my lady,” Ser Errol calls to her, from where he rides ahead. Elyse had spent the majority of the journey in the wheelhouse but had taken to horseback for the final leg of the journey, desperate for some fresh air.

Elyse closes her eyes as the rain continues to caress her face. She hopes for a moment the rain will cease, stopped by Vhagar’s wings as she flies over her announcing Aemond’s return.

It has been several days since their separation, and the pain of being separated cuts her heart deeply. Elyse tries to distract herself but has been alone with her thoughts for the majority of the trip. Thankfully, Helaena allowed Tasha to attend and Elyse was grateful for the company.

As they arrived at Storm’s End, the rain began to die down. The horses' hooves clattered against the stones of the front courtyard. Elyse looked up and saw the domed building in front of her. It seemed so foreign, a hazy memory slipping through her fingers. The guards stood silently appraising her arrival as Tasha appeared from the wheelhouse, holding a stool.

“Here, my lady,” she said smiling, reaching out her hand to help Elyse from her steed. Elyse smiled graciously as she slid off her horse.

Suddenly, the doors to the round hall flew open. A girl stood, only a year or so her elder, blue eyes wide. Her hair was dark, the same as Elyse’s. The maiden squeaked before running toward her.

“Sister!” she said, before throwing her arms around Elyse. She smelt of spiced cider.

“Ellyn,” Elyse said, clutching her sister tightly, laughter bubbling from her lips. Ellyn squeezed her fiercely, her grip vice-like.

“I have missed you so,” she told Elyse, eyes glistening with happy tears, “it has been too long!”

Ellyn released her, and clasped her hands in Elyse’s, leading her toward the inside of the hall.

“When father sent you away, I wept for days,” Ellyn told her, blue eyes still wide. Elyse knew this already, as she received the most letters from her sister Ellyn. She had always thought it was because they were so close in age. The guards held the doors open and the sisters entered the round hall.

What Elyse had remembered about the round hall was dreary and damp. She remembered how it looked the day she left, how she clung to her father’s leg, how she cried.

The castle of her childhood was a memory bathed in tears.

It was not a dreary place tonight. Tables line the room, filled with food and guests. Candles and torches lit the room, so every dark corner was bathed in warm light. The banners of House Targaryen and House Baratheon hung at the front of the room, honoring the union.

“Sister!” another voice called, and Elyse met with the face of her eldest sister, Cassandra.

“Cass,” she said, throwing her arms around her sister. Cassandra’s hug was more polite, but she still held Elyse tightly in her embrace.

“How you’ve grown!” Cassandra exclaimed, releasing her and stroking Elyse’s jaw. Elyse smiled shyly at the compliment.

“As have you,” Elyse complimented her. It was true. Cassandra had grown into a tall beauty. Her eyes were the same fierce blue as all the daughters of House Baratheon. Her dark hair spiraled down her back, neatly braided.

“Has King Aegon asked about me?” Cassandra inquired, as if unable to stop herself. Elyse’s brow furrowed.

“No, why should he?” she asked, curiously. Cassandra shook her head, causing her midnight curls to bounce around her face.

“We write, tis all,” Cassandra told her, a pink blush forming on her cheeks.

“Ah,” Elyse said, feeling her stomach turn. This was the first she was hearing of this. Her lip twitched slightly as her thoughts began to race.

“No matter,” Cassandra said, taking her arm, “this night is about you.”

Elyse looked around the room, eyes hunting for another familiar face.

“Where is Maris?” she questioned, and Cassandra sighed.

“You’ve missed her I am afraid,” she began, “she left for the Silent Sisters a little over a fortnight ago.”

Elyse felt her heart sink. She had hoped to see Maris again. She could scarcely remember her elder sister, only quick flashes of a witty remark, a cunning smile.

“And Floris?” Elyse asked, noticing the absence of her youngest sibling.

“In Highgarden,” Ellyn said before Cassandra could continue, “father made her leave right away. She writes to us though, she quite enjoys the gardens.”

“Surely because they are the most beautiful in the realm,” Cassandra quips, causing Ellyn’s smile to falter.

“Queen Helaena has gardens,” Elyse told her sisters, “I’d wager them against that of Highgarden any day.”

Ellyn smiles at Elyse’s remark.

“Mother is resting still,” Cassandra informs, ��the child is expected any day now. I suppose you would like to see her.”

“Yes of course,” Elyse said, heart, seizing in her chest.

“It should wait until morning,” Cassandra said, her tone as though she had decided it already. Elyse frowned at this but did not challenge her eldest sister’s wishes. Ellyn grabbed onto her arm.

“Come,” she said, tugging her free of Cassandra’s grasp, “come see father.”

Lord Borros sat at the head table, engaging in conversation with a lord to his left. He looked as Elyse remembered him as a little girl, though several streaks of gray ran through his dark hair now; his beard was almost completely peppered gray. His blue eyes were icy, a gift he bestowed on all his children.

“Father,” Elyse said as she approached him. Lord Borros’ face lit up as he addressed her.

“Elyse!” he said, clasping his hands together before standing. He moved from his seat, coming to embrace her. Elyse froze in surprise, before throwing her arms around him, the smell of the woods filling her nostrils. She couldn’t remember the last time she had embraced her father, or if she ever had at all.

When Lord Borros pulled away, a proud smile was on his face.

“My daughter,” he boasted, cupping her cheek, “a princess!”

Elyse felt her smile falter.

Yes, she thought to herself, what a dutiful daughter she was. A dutiful princess. That was what delighted him, not the return of his kin.

The return of a princess.

Be sweet, be kind, her mind taunts. She wants to stick out her chin, and give a clever remark with the sharp tongue of hers that Aemond adores so. But under her father’s gaze, she feels like a silly little girl.

Elyse forced a smile on her face at her father’s praise.

“Prince Aemond shall be joining us shortly?” Lord Borros asked.

“Yes, he shall.”

“Good. I have hunts and feasts prepared for his arrival.”

Elyse’s smile was tight, she could feel her cheek muscles straining to hold it in place.

“He shall be delighted, father,” Elyse tells him, as Lord Borros pats her arm affectionately. Aemond would call the entire affair trivial.

“I have brought livestock for his beast, as well,” Lord Borros continued, “cows, sheep.”

At least Vhagar would be happy.

“Eat, drink!” he commanded, gesturing to the display of food, “dance, and be merry, dear daughter.”

Elyse nodded, and with a final touch to her chin, Lord Borros returned his attention to the lords and vassals he wished to dine with.

Over a decade apart.

An eternity, truly. Yet he was off, leaving Elyse forgotten yet again. It had been easier to bear in the capital, several hundred miles away. But the short distance between them now cut through her like a knife.

Elyse wished Helaena was there. She wished Aemond was there.

Suddenly, the warmth of the Round Hall was leached from the room, and Elyse felt herself grow terribly cold. Ellyn beckoned to her, and she kept a smile on her face, making her way to her sister.

The night was spent catching up, discussing the throws of girlhood, and how Aemond and her came to be. What life was like in King’s Landing, what it was like to ride a dragon. This caused Cassandra to prickle with jealousy.

As Elyse headed to her chambers, she somehow found sleep without Aemond beside her. It had been different while traveling, as she was uncomfortable enough on the road. But sleeping in her feather bed alone, felt terribly lonesome.

With the first light of morning, Elyse crept to her mother’s chambers. As she walked through the halls of Storm’s End, she let her fingers trace the patterns on the stones.

There is magic in these walls. She remembered the stories of her childhood.

“Enter,” a soft voice called and Elyse crept inside. As soon as the warmth of the room hit her, the smell of lily of the valley, Elyse suddenly felt very small again.

She walked into the room slowly, her mother coming into view from where she lay propped in her bed. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, a thin coat of sweat on her brow. Her hazel eyes warmed, a smile breaking out across her face at the sight of her daughter.

“Elyse,” she said softly, pressing a hand to her mouth, “oh my girl.”

Elyse rushed over to her then, gently putting her arms over her mother’s shoulders, conscious of her belly, largely swollen with child. Elyse could feel the shoulder of her nightgown grow wet with her mother’s tears as they embraced; her mother cradling her as though she were still the babe she held in her arms those many years ago.

As she pulled away, Elenda Baratheon kept her hands on her daughter’s cheeks, stroking away the tears that fell from Elyse’s eyes.

“My, how you’ve grown,” Elenda said, laughing through her tears, “what a horrid thing to let you go to the capital. It has felt as though a limb of myself has been missing these past years.”

Elyse’s throat constricts as her tears threaten to consume her. She hadn’t realized how much she had longed to be held by her mother all these years.

“I have missed you terribly,” Elyse admits, and Elenda’s smile turns sad.

“You are here now,” she consoles her daughter, “right where you need to be.”

Her eyes flicker behind her daughter.

“Is your husband here?” she asks, searching for the prince’s presence. Elyse shakes her head, ebony curls bouncing.

“A few days' time, he shall join us,” Elyse assured her mother, “he had business to attend to.”

“I hear the realm is on the verge of war,” she says, a steely look in her fierce eyes. Elyse nodded gently at her mother’s words.

“I have faith in Princess Rhaenyra,” Elyse says, moving to clasp her mother’s hand, “I know her sons well. I do not think the princess wishes to wage war on the realm”

“You believe she shall resign her birthright?”

“Aegon is our king,” Elyse says, the words tasting strange in her mouth. Elenda searches her daughter's face, trying to catch up with all the years she had missed; trying to recognize the strange woman in front of her.

“How is your husband?” she asks, squeezing Elyse’s hand tightly, “Is he kind to you?”

Elyse smiles at her mother’s concern, feeling her body grow warm at the thought of Aemond.

“He is very good to me, mother,” she tells her, causing Elenda to smile with relief.

“Then I look forward to meeting him,” she says before motioning to her birthing bed, “you shall be in this bed soon enough.”

Elyse had been thinking similar things recently. Though Aemond and her had not been married long, they had spent most of their time together firmly intertwined. Aemond enjoyed beginning and ending the day by filling her with his seed.

The thought of swelling with Aemond’s child sent a shiver down her spine. Her monthly blood was due soon, perhaps this month would not come. Elyse felt her cheeks flush.

“What troubles you, daughter?” Elenda asked suddenly, sensing her daughter’s racing thoughts.

Elyse smiled weakly. Even though they had been separated for many years, her mother could still tell when something was wrong by the simple furrowing of her brow.

“Nothing important,” she said, causing her mother to scoff.

“Nonsense,” she argued, “tell me.”

“I find myself in a difficult position,” Elyse said, struggling to explain her conflicted feelings, “it is quite strange I suppose. Becoming a princess. And a wife. So many changes.”

Elenda nodded, rubbing her daughter’s hand in her own.

“Us women are very magical creatures,” she began, looking into Elyse’s eyes, “a lot is demanded of us. We shift and change our shape several times within our lives.”

Elyse felt the tears break free, spilling down her cheeks, as the emotions of the past weeks flooded through her at once.

“Oh my girl,” Elenda whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I wish to stay the same,” Elyse admitted.

She wished to stay a small child, but also be a woman grown. She felt so painfully selfish. She wanted to grow up at Storm’s End with her sisters. She wanted to grow up beside Helaena in King’s Landing. She wanted to be friends with Jace, with Luke. She wanted Aemond.

She wished she could go back in time, and wind back her experiences like the thread of a loom.

Elyse Baratheon wanted it all. The future she was promised, and the past that had been chosen for her. The past she never experienced.

“You do stay the same,” Elenda told her, pressing her hand to Elyse’s heart, “you shall grow but you are still you. In here.”

Elyse nodded at her mother’s comforting words.

“You have been so brave, my sweet girl,” Elenda whispered to her, “so much was demanded of you, so young.”

Elyse felt a weight lift from her shoulders at her mother’s words, at the acknowledgment of the pain that lingered in the back of her mind. She found herself for most of the morning curled against her mother’s chest, listening to the beating of her heart, and allowing her hair to be stroked.

For a moment, Elyse Baratheon allowed herself to be a girl, safe and warm in her mother’s embrace.

But only for a moment.

The day had brightened considerably as Elyse rode her horse to the edge of the forest. Wildflowers bloomed brightly, forming a barrier into the woods.

Grateful for the air, Elyse slid off her horse, tying the reins to a nearby tree. She knelt into the flowers, picking some. A gift for her mother’s bedside, she decided.

Tasha had accompanied her, gazing at the vast waters of shipwrecker bay. Elyse smiled.

“It is quite beautiful,” she told her friend, who smiled nodding.

“Are you enjoying the country, my lady?” Tasha asked, turning back to Elyse.

“Quite a lot,” Elyse admitted, the cool breeze causing gooseflesh to appear on the back of her neck. “It is quieter than the capital, it feels freer.”

Tasha smiled at this.

“Freedom is enjoyable, my lady,” she agreed, peering towards the trees, “I did not know winter roses bloomed in the Stormlands.”

Elyse looked up, confusion was evident on her face. She looked toward where Tasha was gazing, before standing up.

“Where do you see that?” she asks, causing Tasha to point. Elyse steps over some shrubbery, disappearing within the tree lines.

The sun shines like fingers of golden light through the trees, decorating several paths through the mossy green floor of the forest. Elyse treads carefully, feet sinking into the soft, green floor. Tasha follows her lady close behind.

“I see it there!” Tasha says, pointing again, brow furrowed. Elyse wipes some sweat from her brow, as they continue forward, her mouth becoming dry. The day had warmed considerably, the layers of Elyse’s weighing her down. Tasha takes notice.

“Here, my lady, you must be parched,” she says, unscrewing the wineskin she holds at her waist, and holding out to Elyse. Elyse graciously accepts, taking a swig, the bitter taste quenching her thirst. She returns it to Tasha.

“Thank you,” she says, craning her neck in the direction Tasha had pointed in. And then she spots it.

“Seven hells,” Elyse murmurs as she creeps closer. A winter rose, bright blue, sticks out from a crevice in a tree trunk. Elyse reaches forward pulling the flower from the tree, before examining it. It is truly beautiful, a sapphire blue that makes her think of Aemond, of the hilt of Elenei faithfully strapped to her thigh.

“Did someone plant it there, my lady?” Tasha asked, her tone curious. Elyse pressed the flower to her nose, the sweet smell making her head spin.

“No,” Elyse murmured, “someone must have put it here. They do not thrive in this climate.”

Elyse blinked several times, nose still filled with the cloying scent of the flower.

“How peculiar, my lady,” Tasha says, as Elyse turns back to her. The light that brushes through the forest is beginning to dim as the sun begins to sink below the horizon. Dinner shall be prepared soon.

“Let us return to the horses, Tasha,” Elyse tells her friend, shaking her head as though to rid herself of the flower’s scent. She must bring it back to her sister, what a strange story it shall be. Perhaps one of them has a lover, taken with leaving strange gifts.

“Just a moment, my lady,” Tasha says, unscrewing the wineskin again, before turning it upside down letting the contents stain the forest floor. Elyse tilts her head to the side, watching the ruby liquid spill.

“What are you doing?” she asks, a half smile on her face at Tasha’s foolishness. Tasha returns her grin.

“We shan’t be needing it anymore,” Tasha tells her, “I imagine you drank enough.”

Elyse’s smile falters, as a chill runs down her spine. Tasha tosses the wineskin towards the trees, forgotten.

“What?” Elyse says, head spinning, “what did you say?”

“Shh it is alright, my lady,” Tasha says, coming towards her, taking hold of Elyse’s shaking hands. When had they begun to shake? Elyse cannot remember.

Panic slices through her as her vision blurs. The bitter taste.

Dreamwine.

“You shall simply sleep, my lady,” Tasha croons, as Elyse feels her knees begin to buckle.

“Why are you doing this?” Elyse hissed, feeling as though the weight of the world was pushing against her shoulders toward the ground.

“It shall be alright, my lady,” Tasha tells her, ignoring her question, “sleep for now.”

Elyse reaches toward her skirts, desperate to unsheath Elenei. Tasha watches as she struggles to do so, before realizing her plot.

If Elyse had been fully functioning, she might have caught Tasha by surprise. She might have been able to drive the blade straight between her ribs. But the drink made her slow and sluggish, and Tasha twisted her wrist with ease.

“Careful now,” Tasha said, through her teeth, “I like you, lady, but not that much.”

Elenei drops to the forest floor. Elyse’s vision is swimming as she collapses to the ground as well, the image of Tasha’s red hair moving like the flame of a candle. Elyse digs her hands into the moss of the forest floor, desperately trying to will her eyes to stay open. But with each breath she releases, her eyelids feel heavier and heavier.

“Sleep, my lady,” Tasha says, her voice sounding very far away. There is something else that accompanies it, a sound in the distance. A sound that Elyse had grown used to. Softer than usual, from something not as large. Prettier. A sound she recognized, as she slipped into darkness, the effects of the wine consuming her.

Dragonsong.

note: DON'T HATE ME AHHHHH 🫶🏻

taglist: @minttea07 @tssf-imagines

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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I can’t wait to read your next chapter!!! 🥰🥰🥰

ao3 and spotify being down is my villain origin story

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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As you wish

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: You and Aemond have been by each other's side since childhood. He'd drop everything for you, bending to your whims with an 'as you wish.'

The five times Aemond says 'as you wish' + the one time you do.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I couldn't not do it

One.

"Aemond!" your gleeful shout of his name pulled the boy from the book he had previously been enraptured in. Looking up towards the source of the call he couldn't stop a small smile from forming. You were running towards him, skirts hitched up in your hands and a grin lighting your visage.

Aemond felt his stomach flutter at the sight of the smile you had reserved for him, at the sheer glee you were exuding just for him.

"Aemond, you must come quickly," you said, panting slightly from your run and hauling him to his feet with surprising strength. The prince could do nothing but stumble after you, a slave to your whims.

"Where are we going in such a rush?" he asked while continuing to let you pull him along.

"We're hiding from septa Cerelle. I'm supposed to be attending lessons but I'd much rather spend time with you." Aemond's breath caught slightly at how easy the admission had come.

"You'll help me hide won't you" you questioned, smiling sheepishly in his direction, and Aemond's mouth was moving before his mind could properly register.

"As you wish." The blinding smile and quick hug he received in return left him feeling oddly floaty for days after.

Two.

Upon returning from lady Laena's funeral Aemond had refused to see you. The queen had gently taken you aside to explain the dreadful events that had taken place on Driftmark. Naturally, you had been appalled, but not for Aemond's supposed ruined looks, but for the wild injustice that had befallen your best friend.

You had instantly marched yourself back to his chambers, banging against the door and yelling to be let in. You had stayed planted in place for what felt like days before the door finally cracked open. Causing you to let out an undignified shriek as you tipped backwards, having sat to lean against the wood earlier.

Looking up you were disconcerted to see that Aemond had already turned and fled, hiding his face from your view. Pushing yourself to your feet you quickly closed and barred the doors behind you.

Your heart shattered even further as you finally looked at your friend. Aemond had always been a quiet presence but was nonetheless proud, posture tall and refined. Yet now, hunched over in a chair by the fire you saw none of what made Aemond himself. He seemed so small, vulnerable even as he resolutely stared away from you.

"Oh Aemond" you gasped, feet swiftly moving to kneel in front of him as you grasped at his hands. Forcing yourself not to react to the bandage that was still wrapped around his head. Still, you gained no reaction and fuelled with spiteful anger on his behalf you spoke again.

"I'll beat him up" you promised nothing but sincerity in your tone. Though you hadn't mentioned a name, it was clear who you meant. That finally elicited a slight upwards quirk of his lips. Nothing like the reaction it should have.

Queen Alicent had told you of the large beast her son had claimed, fear clear in her being and in that moment you saw no other option.

"Will you take me to meet Vhagar?" For the first time since you'd entered his chambers, Aemond looked up to meet your gaze. And seeing no apprehension in your smile he shakily exhaled.

"As you wish."

Three.

Aemond hated grand events. Feasts and balls were overcrowded and far too loud, and people expected him to dance. There were few things he despised more. He was acutely aware of the fearful and disgusted stares that would pass over lady's faces as they saw his.

As a second son, he had no great need to socialise or search for a betrothal. Both actions he had zero interest in. As such these sorts of events presented no enjoyment for him

You on the other hand, for reasons he simply couldn't fathom, adored such events. Relished in the opportunity to drink and dance whilst parading the newest gown his mother had graciously gifted you. You were an ethereal vision in the dark emerald satin, and though he couldn't remove his gaze from your form, neither could many other lords. Lords that practically tripped over each other in order to win some of your time. Forcing him to watch as other men placed their hands on you, another reason for him to hate these events.

His outrage was steadily growing as he threw a frosty look at the lord that had monopolised your attention for the last three dances. He was some minor lord from the vale, hardly worthy of your attention. Yet you had seemed to genuinely enjoy his presence, going so far as to laugh at something the man had whispered by leaning far closer than appropriate in your ear.

Aemond is spared from wetting his hands with blood and the lord his life by the song ending, and you parting from him. So focused on making sure the lord was indeed walking away from you he had barely noticed your approach. Only when the familiar scent of your preferred oils caused his head to spin did he see your dazzling smile. The real thing. Not the painfully and politely plastered thing you offered your many insufferable suitors. The one you had also offered lord deserved to die.

He could not however be angry at you, and the frost in his gaze immediately warmed into something reserved only for three people in existence as he greeted you.

"Dance with me?" you asked, briefly surprising him. You knew how much Aemond hated to dance, to be at the centre of attention and as such never asked him. Yet even so he finds himself taking your arms and leading you towards the dance floor barely a second later.

"As you wish."

You danced with no one but him for the rest of the evening. Leaving Aemond forced to admit to himself that dancing wasn't all that bad.

Four.

He'd heard it from one of the guards casually conversing in the hall. Aemond couldn't recall a time he had been as frantic as now, running through the keep and snarling at anyone that moved out of his way too slowly.

You had been attacked during one of your usual trips visiting the smallfolk. Aemond could not say he was fond of said trips, even if your kindness and generosity only endeared you further to him. You had always assured him you were completely safe, under the watchful eye of both the kings guard (courtesy of himself and his mother) and the city watch. Yet someone had still managed to get far too close, and once Aemond found out who had allowed such a thing heads would roll. But for now, you needed him.

One look at his menacing glare was all he needed to get the guards to your chambers to step aside before he was throwing the doors open. Chest heaving from the fast pace of his run his feet only stopped long enough to identify your location within the room.

Both his mother and sister were by your side, whispering soothing words to your obviously shaken form. Helaena was simply holding your hands, as one of her ladies in waiting the two of you had grown close, whilst his mother rubbed your back.

The relief he had felt for a few seconds quickly morphed back into fury as he took in your still-shaking form. At his arrival, Helaena stood, and after levelling him with a knowing stare announced her leave. Although more hesitant than her daughter, his mother followed suit, but not before glaring at him to 'fix this.'

Hands scrunched in the fabric of your skirts you didn't address his arrival, not even when he gently sank onto the mattress next to you. Slowly, to gain your permission, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest when you didn't deny him.

Aemond wanted to scream, to yell until he was red in face, to hunt down and slaughter the men that had come so close to taking you from him. He did none of those things, however, forcing himself to remain calm and gentle for your sake.

As if his arrival was the final catalyst, you instantly burst into tears. Shaky hands fisted into doublet as you shuddered against his chest. Aemond could do nothing but pull you closer, moving one hand up to stroke your hair as he tucked you into him as best he could. His sheer helplessness in the face of your terror distressed him so greatly that he became aware of his own shaking.

Even when you had cried yourself into exhaustion he couldn't bring himself to let go.

"Please... stay" you whispered hoarsely, looking up at him desperately.

"As you wish" he whispered back just as gently, before kissing your hairline in an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability.

Five.

It hadn't been the first time you had gone to Aemond for consolation, tears in your eyes that only he could remedy. It was beginning to feel as if it could be the last, however.

The queen had come to you, gloom dampening her visage as she informed you of the betrothal your father had recently arranged. You had been horrified, at the match and had begged for her interference. Unfortunately, she had already tried, but your father was a stubborn man and had already made up his mind.

You had devolved into a fit of rage, throwing a vase at the nearest wall as you screamed. Which of course, had sent the queen into a quick exit as she called for her son.

Your anger had faded into resignation, and by the time Aemond arrived, you were two cups deep and slumped in a chair staring listlessly into the hearth.

In a mirror of your actions so many years prior, he silently crossed the space, coming to kneel in front of you as he fully witnessed your melancholy.

"Aemond. I don't wish to marry him" you needlessly confessed, pausing briefly before adding "or any of the other lords my parents would foist me upon."

Your confession hung heavily in the air and you watched as Aemond's face hardened with resolve.

"As you wish." He elaborated no further, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze before he stalked out of your chambers with purpose. Leaving you to blink at his retreating form in stunned and confused silence.

When he returned the next morning, a smug smile adorning his face and the promise you wouldn't have to marry any you wouldn't choose you could do nothing but launch yourself into his arms. Heart hammering in his chest at the feel of his satisfied chuckle and enveloping warmth.

One.

Despite the fact that you hadn't wished to marry some lord twice your age, you couldn't help but feel despondent at your unmarried status. Many of the lords and ladies your age were already wed, babes in their belly and children underfoot.

You thought you hid it well, but you had yet to realise that there was almost nothing Aemond didn't notice about you. He noticed the longing in your gaze when you stared after the few happy matches that paraded the keep. His stomach twisting at the thought of you happy and in love with another.

"Aemond!" the scolding tone of your voice pulls him from his thoughts. Blinking, he looked down to where you lay in the grass, pout on your face as you caught him looking elsewhere, and presumably not focusing on you.

"Are you even listening to me?" you whined in a way that from anyone else he would have found annoying, but from you it was incredibly cute.

Your nose was scrunched up and he couldn't help the amused huff that escaped him when you smacked his thigh.

"Aemond." you drew out his name, "Did you hear a word I said?"

"Something about how dashingly handsome I am?" he joked, leaving you to gape up at him in astonishment.

"Not even close" you objected with a scowl before a mischievous look replaced it and you rolled closer to him, "though if you wish for me to sing your praises all you had to was ask."

Aemond could do nothing but stare, mouth suddenly as dry as Dorne. While your tone had been teasing, there had been something in your gaze that indicated you spoke nothing but the truth. His tongue was led, eye darting between your enchanting eyes and perfect lips.

Evidently, he had been staring at your visage for too long, your face crinkling in concern "Aemond? Are you alri-"

"Marry me" he blurted breathlessly, not an ounce of jest in his being. He watched with mortified anticipation as your face lost its smile and your eyes widened in shock.

Yet as what seemed like an age passed and you offered no answer he felt embarrassment like no other burn in his chest. Just before he can make a hasty retreat in order to lick at his newly acquired wounds, your hands snaked out lightning fast and claimed his.

"As you wish" you replied confidently, taking delight at the look of wonder on his face. It was your turn to be breathless as he closed what little distance remained between you. Pulling you into the first of many time-stopping kisses.

TAGLIST: @etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @hyperfixated-freak @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @weepingwitchofthewest @kaitieskidmore1 @eli1fict @rainerax @dsl1999 @uno7 @shine101 @xinyourdreamsx @targeryenmoony @thelittleswanao3 @thenovelcarnival @yourlittlehoe @chattylurker

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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The Sun in the Dragon House - Chapter 6 - The Rise of the One-Eyed Prince

When the sun set down, the Queen asked Vera to take Helaena with her back into the castle to their guest chambers. Vera had caught Aemond's eye and he gave her a nod, which meant he was going to try and claim Vhagar.

Vera was worried about that as she and Helaena walked down the hall. "What's on your mind?" Helaena asked. Vera glanced at her and then back forward, "Nothing... it's just a worried feeling," she muttered.

They heard groaning and turned to see Otto dragging Aegon, who seem to be drunk. "Really, Aegon?" Vera asked, "Again?" Helaena wasn't surprised or even looking annoyed and just let out a soft sigh.

Vera looked at Otto, "Do you want me to take care of this?" Otto shook his head, "No need, I'll deal with him, you two can go and rest." Vera and Helaena nodded and watched him dragging Aegon away.

Vera let out a sigh and shook her head a little before continuing on down the hall with the Princess. "I'm sorry about the..." Vera trailed off as she nodded to where Otto and Aegon went to. "Yes, well, could have been worse," Helaena muttered.

Vera raised an eyebrow, I don't think anything can be worse than Aegon, she wanted to say but choose not to. But then again, she thought back of when Aegon showed her his softer and nicer side. At least to Vera, he showed it.

----

After a while, Vera and Helaena were awoke by Ser Cedric, who then led the two confused girls to the great hall. People were starting to gather, the Queen moved to the chair by the fireplace.

She dressed in a simple gown, hair loose and wavy around her face, she had tears in her eyes as she kneel by the chair. An old Maester is seated in front of the chair, eyes narrowed in complete concentration as he worked on something.

Aegon was there by the chair as well, looking a little sober after some sleep. Vera and Helaena moved closer. Vera looked at the person that was sitting on the chair in shock. It was Aemond.

Aemond stared back, his one eye dull and glazed. His other eye was a mess of blood and sinew, a long gaping wound slicing through his face, red and angry. The Maester's hand, amazingly steady, was sewing together his skin, closing the wound bit by bit, but Vera could see, clear as day, the eye completely destroyed in its socket.

"Aemond," Vera breathed out as she moved closer and took his hand. The King glared at the guards, including Criston, "How could you allow such a thing to happen? I will have answers."

"The princes were supposed to be abed, my King," Harrold, the Lord Commander, said and Vera finally realized that Jacaerys and Lucerys along with their cousins were there as well. The boys looked bloody, but Lucerys looked worse.

"Who had the watch?" the King asked. "Young prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace," Criston said. The King looked around at the guards, "You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!"

"I'm very sorry, Your Grace," Lord Commander replied, staring on the floor. "The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes, Your Grace," Criston said. "That is no answer!" the King shouted.

The Queen didn't take her eyes off from her son and asked quietly, "It will heal, will it not, Maester?" Vera squeezed Aemond's hand, telling him she was still there by his side. "The flesh will heal," the Maester answered, "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

The Queen looked heartbroken for her son's lost of eye, and Vera looked down in sadness but she didn't let go of the Prince's hand. He squeezed her hand whiles Queen Alicent's sadness turned to anger as she turned to her older son, "Where were you?"

Aegon blinked, "Me?" The Queen slapped him across his face, surprising half the people around. Aegon looked at her as he held his cheek, "What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool," the Queen hissed at him.

The door swung open and Lord Corlys walked in with Princess Rhaenys right behind him. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "Baela, Rhaena!" Rhaenys said, "What happened?" She ran towards her granddaughters and hugged them, "What happened?"

The door swung open again and Princess Rhaenyra ran inside, "Jace?Luke!" She rushed to her sons and kneel in front of Lucerys, "Show me. Show me. Who did this?"

Aemond's face twists with rage as he turns in his chair to face his sister and nephews, "They attacked me!"

"He attacked Baela!"

"He broke Luke's nose!"

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"Enough," the King said thought the children's shouting.

"He was gonna kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!" Aemond spit as he glared with one eye at them.

"Enough."

"It should be my son telling the tale!" the Queen said.

"He called us--" Jacaerys started.

"Silence!" the King yelled, making the children stop. Jacaerys whispered something to his mother, and she stood up and turned to face the room with a gloomy expression on her face.

"Aemond..." King Viserys addressed his son and started walking towards him, "I will have the truth of what happened." Vera didn't let go of Aemond's hand and squeezed it, which gave him a little comfort. "Now."

"What else is there to hear?" the Queen asked, looking at him in disbelief. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident," Princess Rhaenyra said quietly but firmly. "Accident?" the Queen repeated in disbelief, glaring at the Princess, "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son."

"It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!" the Princess said, "Vile insults were levied against them." The King looked at her, "What insults?"

Silence.

"The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question," the Princess spoke after a moment. The King looked confused, "What?"

"He called us bastards," Jacaerys finally whispered, though his voice was quite clear.

Alicent's eyes flashed to Aemond who wasn't even ashamed to hide a mischievous smile. Vera noticed too, and looked down as she shook her head.

Viserys noticed the smile as well and looked at his older daughter as she spoke again, "My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Aemond leaned over his chair to glare at his sister and her sons. Alicent's eyes glistened with tears, "Over an insult? My son has lost an eye."

"You tell me, boy," the King said as he stared down at Aemond, "Where did you hear this lie?" Aemond looked down, not answering.

"The insult was training yard bluster," the Queen said, trying to get the King's attention away from their son, "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

The King ignored her and continued to stare down at Aemond, who squeezed Vera's hand again. "Aemond..." the King started, and the boy finally looked at him again. "I asked you a question."

"Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder?" the Queen asked and looked at Princess Rhaenyra, "The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

The King finally looked away from Aemond, and toward his daughter, "Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?"

Vera looked down at Aemond and when he looked at her, he was relief to see she wasn't looking at him with disgust, and she gave him a small sad smile as she squeezed his hand. The Queen glanced toward them and let out a breath, relief Vera didn't leave her son's side and giving him comfort by been around him.

"I do not know, Your Grace," the Princess said, "I... could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk."

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture," the Queen said with a small scoff, earning nasty glances from the Velaryons and a smirk from Criston.

The King turned his attention back to his son, "Aemond... look at me. Your King demands an answer." Vera looked away with slight annoyance by that. You're his father before you're anything else. Why won't you protect him? she wanted to say but she couldn't. "Who spoke these lies to you?"

Aemond didn't answer for a long moment. His eye moved to the Queen and when the King followed his gaze, he spoke up, "It was Aegon."

The King looked back at him and then at Aegon, who looked stunned behind Vera and next to his sister, "Me?"

The King walked toward him, "And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?" Aegon didn't answer and just stared down. "Aegon!" he yelled, startling all the children. "Tell me the truth of it!"

Aegon took a moment before speaking calmly, "We know, father. Everyone knows." He glanced at Jacaerys and Lucerys. "Just look at them."

"This interminable infighting must cease!" the King said loudly and looked around at everyone, "All of you! We are family!" Aemond slowly raised his gaze to look at his father as he walked around from behind Vera to stand in front of the boy. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

King Viserys looked around at the people who avoided his gaze and remained silent. He started to walk past Queen Alicent. Vera was upset by this as well, apology? she thought and opened her mouth before she could think and muttered, "It's not enough," her voice was quiet but was heard in the quiet hall.

Everyone's eyes turned to her and she froze as Aemond squeezed her hand. Criston's eyes grew wide in worried as the King turned to his daughter. He took a step forward but Queen Alicent stepped forward to block Vera's figure from her husband's view, "That is insufficient," she said as she stared at him in disbelief while Criston let out a relief breath, "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

The King sighed, "I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken," the Queen said.

"What would you have me do?"

"There is a debt to be paid," the Queen said. There was a moment of silent before the Queen looked over at the Princess and her sons, "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Some of the people gasped quietly and whispered to each other. "My dear wife--" the King started. "He is your son, Viserys," the Queen said, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes, "Your blood."

"Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment," the King warned as he walked closer to her. He turned from her but the Queen stopped him, "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston..." Vera looked from her to her father. "Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

Vera looked from him to Lucerys in concern as the boy backed away from the Princess, "Mother."

Lord Corlys moved the boy behind him. "Alicent," the King warned.

The Queen ignored him, "He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son."

"You will do no such thing," Princess Rhaenyra said as her eyes darted between the Queen to Criston.

"Stay your hand," the King warned Criston.

"No, you are sworn to me!" the Queen said loudly.

Criston's eyes darted toward his daughter, who was still standing by Prince Aemond. She was staring at her father... with worry, and also fear. The first time she seemed to be afraid of him, and not for him. Despite what happened to Aemond, despite she thought it wasn't fair for him, she didn't want anyone to get hurt anymore, and she regretted she didn't keep her mouth close.

Criston looked at the Queen and lowered his eyes to the floor, "As your protector, my Queen."

Alicent released a breath, a look of betrayal flashed in her eyes before it quickly disappeared. The King looked at her, "Alicent, this matter... is finished. Do you understand?" Lucerys moved back behind his mother as the King spoke to everyone in the room, "And let it be known; anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed."

The King's eyes stopped at the Queen, who released a shaky breath. "Thank you, father," Princess Rhaenyra said quietly before turning to her sons to check on them.

The King gave his wife one last look before turning to leave. But then, the Queen took a deep breath and before anyone knew it, she moved forward, and grabbed the blade from her husband's belt, and moved toward the Princess.

"Your Grace."

"Stay with the King!"

"Alicent!"

"Hold your approach!"

"Do not, Ser Criston!"

Princess Rhaenyra turned around and at the last moment grabbed the Queen by her wrists, preventing her from touching any of her sons.

Lucerys started screaming and Lord Corlys stood in front of Princess Rhaenys and his grandchildren as Criston moved to protect the Queen.

"Alicent!"

"Do not, Ser Criston!"

"Alicent!"

Vera watched her father been stopped by Daemon. Vera took a step toward the crowd but she was stopped by Aemond pulling on her hand.

"You've gone too far," Princess Rhaenyra said.

"I?" the Queen asked, "What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law! While you flout all to do as you please."

"Alicent, let her go!" the King demanded.

The Queen ignored him as she glared at the Princess, "Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again!"

"Release the blade, Alicent," Otto said calmly.

The Queen continued as if no one spoke, "And now you take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Princess Rhaenyra asked, "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." She leaned forward to whisper coldly, "But now they see you as you are."

Queen Alicent pushed Princess Rhaenyra back, but the dagger managed to touch her hand already. Lord Corlys caught the Princess and helped her to her feet and they all slowly watched with wide eyes as blood flowed from Rhaenyra's hand, running down her fingers and dripping onto the stone pavement.

Aemond slowly stood up and let go of Vera's hand. He slowly walked in the crowd and looked from his half sister to his mother as everyone stared at him. "Do not mourn me, Mother," he said, "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... but I gained a dragon."

Rhaenyra's teary eyes turned to Queen Alicent while Daemon raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"This proceeding is at an end," the King said. He turned around and slowly walked away. Criston was released and he walked closer to the Queen. He picked the blade up as Aemond walked closer to him and his mother.

Daemon stepped closer to the Princess and her sons as Aemond placed his head on the Queen's chest, and she hugged him tightly.

Next: - Chapter 7 - coming soon

Taglist:

@thenovelcarnival, @mynameisbaby9, @carriellie, @parizparis, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @daddysfavoritesexkitten, @uselessbutinteresting, @hc-geralt-23, @babyblue-chaos, @azaleapotterblack, @hydrationqueensworld, @firefirevampire

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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Aemond x Reader - You Were Always With Me - Chapter 15

Summary: Both you and Aemond have to take care of things.

A/N : Sorry it’s been a while, I have been trying to come up with a story that is canon close to the lore without spoiling myself. Sorry for book readers!

(Part 1 - Part 13/ Part 14 - Part 16)

It has been a restless night.

You were sure that when you finally found sleep, the sun was about to rise. In any case, you now felt more exhausted somehow, as you got up to realise that it was almost noon.

Aemond's promise has been held, none had bothered you, not even the maids to wake you up at the very least. Instead, you had rang the bell in order to call for a platter of food, having not eaten since you had arrived in King's Landing. You were surprised to see cinnamon cake brought to you, smiling at the gesture you knew was from the man who had denied you last night. What was he playing at?

Among the things the maids gave you was several dresses displayed on the bed, having none to yourself as you let most of your possession at Sandstone. You approached the bed to admire them, seeing different shades of green, purple, and blue. You noticed one of the blue ones, feeling attracted to it more than the others. You tried it on, and admired your reflection on the mirror: it suited you. Blue sapphire.

As the maids fulfilled their task around the Prince’s chamber, you were unable to miss the glances they gave you, averting their eyes as soon as you look back at them, ashamed to have stared too long. You realised how odd the situation your were in was.

Your discomfort grew more when you decided to go outside for the first time, the guard that seemed to have been ordered to watch your door since Aemond’s departure had now following you around, not leaving you space for a second as you wandered the castle corridors. You had planned to send a letter, even two to your family seat, unnoticed, your worry for your family was taking all of your thoughts, and you were determined in fixing this. But you were sure that the tall guard in white armour walking behind you would not let you set a foot inside of ravenry, even less send a letter to your family, now considered as the enemy.

You wondered what exactly were Aemond’s orders about you. You were a traitor's daughter after all, the fact that you were even breathing was a miracle to you, and yet you were allowed to leave the solace of your room and wander around, although under surveillance. Did he command that you were to be watched and that your very moves should be reported to him? Were you now a little bird in a cage, doomed to be controlled at will as long as the Greens were alive?

But surveillance was not the worst. You soon noticed that you would have to endure other people’s stares and whispers. As you could not hope to make contact with the exterior due to your close watch, you settled to walk though to corridors of the castle, hoping that the favourite spots you grew to love inside its walls would bring you comfort, remembering the good times. But doing so, you had crossed path with many people, mostly nobles who recognised you right away, and their face indicated that they were stunned at your presence. “So it’s true” you heard them say. You tried to ignore them, but you couldn’t.

You had to hold your head high whilst you heard them whisper onpon your passage, staring at you with judgmental eyes, some didn't even bother keeping their voice low and you could clearly hear how scandalous they found the fact that you were not punished yet because of your father's deeds. You even heard the word Baratheon as you tried to find a quiet space to stay in, to hide. Surely they thought you were the cause of the delay of Cassandra's marriage. And the hard truth, the bitter sweet truth, was that they were right. You felt sick as you desperately try to escape their gossip, the ladies’ stares being the worst.

With only the imposing presence of your guard feet away from you, you found peace in a secluded balcony, admiring the city below you, trying to hide your furious tears from the world.

_____

Aemond sat at the centre of the table, placed between his grandfather and Helaena, presiding.

He watched the sun through the window, wondering if you had awoken, having ordered food to be brought to you as soon as you would make yourself known. He still felt exhausted, the morning has been tiresome to say the least, being consulted for many affairs and involving himself greatly, twice as much than any others about matters that he wanted to take care of. He took his new responsibilities very seriously.

He had requested to eat with his close family, he thought that they finally deserved to hear what he had to say, Aemond having avoided them since his return and not providing any explanation to the them, of the court even. He hoped to sooth their worries and by the same mean, affirm his position as Prince Regent.

His mother said a prayer before the meal, and when the first course was served, silence lasted for a time, as tension could be felt around the table. Only the twins next to Helaena were heard as their giggling filled the room. But the glances his mother and grandfather exchanged was telling him that the twins they would not remain silent for very long. And his mother did not waste time.

"Aemond what is the meaning of this? Why is lady y/n here of all places?" she said, desperation in her voice. "You refused to speak of it yesterday and today also, but you cannot keep pretending that it is of no concern to us, to our clan.”

Aemond cleared his throat, ready to say his piece at last.

"I understand your confusion, so please allow me to… make some things clear. First, I apologize for my poor behaviour upon the return from the Bay." He paused, rising his gaze momentarily from his fingers to the assembly, before lowering it again, resuming his fidgeting on the table. He wanted to appear as composed as always, showing that everything he did was pondered.

"Second, I do not expect you to understand my reasons for bringing Lady Y/N back here, but I expect all of you to treat her like you always did, as a member of this court.”

Exasperated sighs were heard from the Hightowers at his words, while Helaena seemed to be take a keen interest in her plate.

"Her father is a traitor Aemond.” Otto Hightower spoke in his ever calm voice. “He may not have clearly demonstrated it per say but his allegiance was never in our favour. And I believe you know this, otherwise you would not have send House Vance to retrieve him. Her daughter might be no different.”

Of course he had known where your father’s loyalty lied, for a long time now. But for now, he had to protect your from the consequences of your father’s action. It was all that mattered.

“Lady Y/N is not responsible for her father’s deeds. She had done nothing but to obey him and to that extent-”

“What about the fact that she was to be married and that you decided to do as you pleased? This is an whole other matter.” Otto interrupted. “Because of this, we are now risking the wrath of a Dornish House, and thus it may lead them to take a stand against us, even rallying the Black Qu-"

"You may speak when I am finish talking, Lord Hand."

Aemond's voice was placid, so firm that it made Helaena shiver. Otto closed his mouth in defeat and just stared at his grandson, awaiting for him to continue.

"I am Prince Regent, until my dear brother's health improves. Thus I will take my responsibilities and take care of every threats that may come our way. At all costs."

Alicent face was showing distraught, but she was the first to speak.

"We do not doubt your ability Aemond, only that you seem to take some matters too lightly, specifically regarding the arrangements made for us to be stronger. We had secured a perfect match, a marriage that would grant us the support needed to hold against Rhaenyra, the Baratheons-"

"This marriage will not happen." Aemond said brusquely, staring at his mother for the first time.

Otto Hightower's hand gripped the wooden table in disbelief, his head shaking in disapproval.

"Oh for the love of the Seven Aemond! Did she put you up to this? Were you so easily convinced to abandon your duties for the sake of one girl?”

Aemond eye flashed with anger when he heard him talk about you this way.

"She has nothing to do with this." he said as calmly as possible.

"Then explain to me why you have forsaken your awaiting bride on the altar to come fetch this traitor's daughter!"

Aemond slammed the table so hard that it made everybody jump and in a second he was on his feet, towering the people around the table. One of the children began to cry and the other followed. The rest was silent, suddenly a little frighten.

"If you have not noticed, I am the one who decided to take Vhagar and bring her back, not the other way around. And the reasons are my own. Do not think me as some boy that can be effortlessly manipulated." Aemond's tone was composed, but it felt like he was struggling to take hold of his anger.

"And regarding my… late marriage, since it seems to be of so great concern to you all, I will share with you before hand what I was planning to say announce with the Small Council later.”

Alicent and Otto were hanging at his very words now.

"I had, since my return, confined Lady Baratheon, her mother and sister, in their chambers. They are to be watched over closely and not allowed to leave."

The Hightower exchanged a glance in dismay before reporting their eyes to Aemond.

"You are making them prisoners?" Alicent said bewildered.

"Not prisoners. They will be allowed to wander around the castle and live their life as they see fit. But they will have no contact with anyone outside of these walls, no ravens, and only those who support us will be able to keep them company. The later Lord Borros is made aware or realises that his daughter is to stay here, the better." Aemond replied.

"Lord Baratheon will not stand for this, he will ally with the enemy if he learns his women are hostages!" Otto roared.

"Lord Borros will do no such things if he wishes to retrieved his wife and daughters unharmed." Aemond loudly said. "And his armies will continue to serve our cause. This is quite simple."

Nobody spoke, to shocked at the words of Aemond but slowly realising that however unpractical it was, it would work. Only the causes that led to this strategy were to be blamed, as if the Prince has not been so stubborn, or if you simply didn't exist, all of this could have been avoided. Aemond sat down at last.

"Any other dashing announcements you need to share with us perhaps, my Prince?" stated Otto, exasperated.

Aemond hesitated, his next move so evident to him. He would make it official, his desire to marry you. He wanted this so badly now, having almost experienced the feeling of you being someone else, and had hated it. He would not let that happen again. It was simple truly, he wanted this since he was a teenager. However, he knew it was not the time. Your House had fallen, and he had to fix things.

"No. Not yet." he simply replied, earning a suspicious look from his grandfather. But his mother, understood. She knew that look.

He grabbed his cup, drinking its content. "Let us eat, we have a long day ahead of us.

__________________

You were in your chambers once again. Or rather Aemond's. You had tried to visit Helaena but you have learned that she was at the Dragonpit, not expected to return soon. So you went back, settling to search for a book among Aemond's shelves, desperately trying to escape the stares that came your way each time you crossed any living soul. However your peace was quickly disturbed as a visitor was announced.

Alicent Hightower walked into the room, hands clasped together and her lips in a thin line. You bowed, at lost at what to do, you did not expect to see anyone, even less the Queen Mother.

She finally greeted you, putting a polite smile on her face and you both stay on your feet in front of each other, her words breaking the silence:

"Do you find yourself comfortable here my Lady?" she asked. You only nodded as she continued.

“I came to apologise for any treatment you might have suffered here. I do not know exactly of my son’s action, but I wish you to know that if you ever need to talk to someone, I will make myself available.”

You were quite surprised at the statement. Alicent has always be someone you could not read properly. She evidently carried a lot on her shoulders since a tender age, and you never really knew how much affection she had toward you. Only that she liked the fact that her children were able to spent time with someone as nice as you. But it was a along time ago.

“I thank you, your Grace.” you said, bowing your head. “However I had been treated well. I only miss my original chambers and books.” you smiled weakly.

You didn’t really like the way she had implied that Aemond could be harmful to you in anyway. But you chose not talk about it as more urging matter filled your mind.

“Pardon me your Grace. But I have been… put in the dark, rather I have no knowledge of the exterior world. So may I ask you…” you hesitated. “May I ask what you know of my House situation at present? I am infinitely worried about them.”

She sighed, an affectionate look appearing on her face as she took your hands in yours and made you sit with her on the sofa, her motherly tone taking over.

“I am sorry my dear. Your House is currently under siege, I know you had nothing to do with with. I have known you since you were a child, but these are trying times and your father…” she stopped, biting her lips. “I am sorry that you are put in the same predicament as the Baratheons as long as you remain here. We will try to make the most of it.”

You narrowed your eyes. What did she mean? Was she talking about Lady Cassandra?

“I… do not understand. How can it be the same when you are about to link both of your Houses?” you asked.

Alicent looked at you with sad eyes. Of course you could not know of it yet.

“Lady Cassandra, her sister and mother are… to remain here as… a way for them to be protected. They cannot leave and she will not marry my son either.”

Realisation dawned on you. Of course, that is what Aemond had come up with. A compromise for him, a hell for everybody else.

And now you were the same as them, a bird in a cage, meant to be a leverage for the Greens to use on your respective Houses, one for support, the other for retaliation.

And he would not marry her. Aemond had chosen otherwise.

You felt something heavy lift your heart, as if to let you breath again. But you instantly felt ashamed at this very feeling: how could you be so selfish?

Alicent watched you take on the news, before standing up to grab a piece of parchment on the desk and hand you a quill.

“This is one of the reason I am here my child. I know you worry for your family, and I believe that you can do something about it.” she said, sitting down again. “Surely news of your return here have not reached them yet, and if we could lead them in the right direction… Maybe, maybe we could create an outcome without bloodshed.”

She looked at you expectantly, watching your eyes fill with tears, but it was soon replaced by determination.

She was right, it was the right course of action, you yourself had thought about it. If your father knew that you were once again under the control of the people he had seek to escape, none would guess how he would react, but chances were that he would put your safety first. Being an hostage tended to do that.

So you wrote a letter under Alicent watchful eye, pouring all of your love and affection where you could, when only demands and urges to surrender to the Greens peacefully filled the paper.

Once you were done and Alicent had taken the paper away, surely to submit it to her father, you felt like it was not enough. You had to see him, to talk to him, without anyone to tell you what to say. You had to make things right.

Later in the day, you received a letter, from a writing you would recognised anywhere: you were invited to dinner with the Royal Family.

-0- Part 16 (soon)

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed @xceafh @bubbletae7 @omgkatherine97 @tzipora-art @signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs @bietchz @samnblack @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal @polireader @zillahvathek @moni-cah @literishdegree99

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missscarletta7 · 1 year

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Map by 宋大能

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missscarletta7 · 2 years

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So excited 😆

Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

[Overall Masterlist] [Taglists]

Summary: He was born on a boat, with neither of his parents sure of the date after the fact, unregistered and unlisted until he went to fight for his country.

Her birth had been celebrated with the ringing of church bells, champagne toasts and announcements in newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. Their worlds could not have been more different, and perhaps that was why, when Thomas Shelby looked at Lady Charlotte Crawley, he saw more than her title, more than her looks- he saw an opportunity.

!!First Part coming tomorrow!!

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missscarletta7 · 2 years

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The Eternal Couple 🖤🧡

Saaya and Cleopatra have been courting for 4 years now and whenever they are together it’s a sight to behold. They live in India’s Kabini forest.

They are so beautiful.

& they have children together too!

Also, fun fact: Saaya means the ‘Shadow’

Photographs taken by Mithun H.

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missscarletta7 · 2 years

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My new favorite series 😍 can’t wait for the next chapter !!! 🥰

The Boy in the Window 8 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Chapter Summary: Tommy's regret and Emma's tantrum

Notes: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback to the last part so here's the next one. I hope the content makes up for the comparably shorter length. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Smut/ sexual content (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 3714

Part 8

[Previously]

They took the shortcut down to the canal and began to walk alongside it until factories gave way to smaller buildings that grew ever smaller.

As the pathway narrowed, she made sure that the children walked on the inside. It was still cold enough for thin sheets of ice to form and the last thing she wanted was for one of them to lose their footing and slip.

Tommy slowed his steps so that the children could keep up and she was grateful for it, as she didn't exactly trust her own footing. Even if it hadn't rained, the stones were still slick from the cold.

Soon all the grey and red stone buildings on the other side disappeared, giving way to green plains and distant trees, as the banging and hissing of the machinery faded away until they could actually hear birds singing. The last time she had heard that, she had yet to become a window.

"What kind of bird is that, Dad?", Charlie wanted to know.

Tommy sighed deeply before answering, and when he did, his voice sounded strained and almost regretful, speaking with the voice of an old man.

"Blackbirds.", he mumbled.

They continued walking until Tommy's steps slowed. Across from the canal, which was wider now, they could see no sign of civilization while on their side they only passed smaller enclosures for boxes that she doubted held legally shipped goods. For that they were too far away.

For a while he just stood there and stared, but then, without a care to the cleanliness of his suit, Tommy crouched down and picked up a few small rocks in his hand, pulling off of his glove to clear them of dirt with his fingers.

"Do you know how to skip stones, Emma?", He asked, looking up at her daughter.

Emma shook her head as she and Charlie both crowded around the man.

She looked away before she could see more, her eyes burning from more than the cold.

(Y/N) was glad she was able to lean against some of the stacked boxes, as her feet had begun to ache a while back.

When he had announced he was going for a walk, she hadn't thought he would lead them out of the city.

But it really was a pretty view, even if the memories tasted bitter in her mouth.

As she allowed her feet, and even her eyes to rest, she could hear the song of the birds and the soft voices of Tommy and the children as they tried to skip stones all the way to the other side.

Only when she heard heavy steps approaching, did she open them again.

He leaned against the boxes next to her and lit a cigarette.

She watched the smoke escape his lips, and the figure that appeared from it, only to disappear a moment later as if it had never existed in the first place. Gone. Just gone.

But Tommy didn't watch the smoke, nor the children, nor the treeline or the way the light played tricks on the canal's water.

He was staring at something neither she nor any living person could ever see.

Then he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You missed John today."

She barely whispered the words, but he heard them all the same.

Even if the only sign he gave was the faintest shaking of his head, still unable to overcome the disbelief.

Her hand found his shoulder and she sighed. It had been her suspicion ever since she had caught herself looking around for the Shelby brother that had been her brother's friend, the one who was missing. But the skipping stones had confirmed it.

It had been David and John's favourite passtime, one they made bets on with the same ferocity the rich folks did at the races, always trying to beat each other.

They must have sunk a thousand rocks in their attempt to make it all the way to the other side.

The memory was a sweet one, so sweet that the pain in her chest could not fully turn it to ash, but not sweet enough to cover the bitterness. And with her own loss, it had been years.

Suddenly (Y/N) had to fight the desire to lean into him. All she did was keep her hand on his back and watch him bring the cigarette to his lips once more.

Over and over again.

"You'd think it'd be easier…", he finally said, still staring into the distance. "After all, we didn't talk for two years."

The response already lay on the tip of her tongue, but he got to it first, flicking his cigarette away into the darkness.

"But it just makes it worse…fucking wasted time."

There was no grief in his voice, but it trembled all the same- with something darker than pain.

"So much time just fucking wasted.", He snarled. "Not just with John, with fucking everything. The business, the foundation -"

He broke off as his eyes found the children.

(Y/N) was about to defend him, but he wasn't finished.

"I had plans before…fucking dreams as stupid as it sounds. To make things better."

He shook his head once more.

"But you have.", She insisted. "For your family and for the people here, with your foundation and the charity work and the institute."

Tommy turned to look at her, not with his eyes, but with his whole body- facing her with wide, searching eyes.

And for a while he searched, until he seemed to find what he was looking for. And then he nodded.

"I'm going to increase Shelby Company Limiteds non-taxable donations to charities by 25% and I'm going to build two new institutes for destitute children in the city."

He said it as casually as if he was making a remark about the weather, while all she could do was not to cry out.

"Tommy, that's incredible."

He only sighed and glanced out into the distance.

"It's still not close to what I once wanted to do."

"What did you want to do?", She asked, surprised at his sudden defeatism.

He swallowed hard as his eyes gained a glassy shine.

"I promised someone I'd change the world."

"Grace?"

He shook his head.

"Before."

Before- that would mean before the war, half a lifetime ago. But it didn't matter whom he made the promise to, not as long as he intended to fulfil it.

"Good.", She said, making his eyebrow rise.

"Good?"

(Y/N) nodded.

"You'll make sure it's good."

He huffed and leaned back against the boxes once more, sighing deeply.

There, they remained in silence, him lost somewhere between thoughts and memory, while she kept an eye on the children.

"Mummy!", Emma called as she ran over, wrapping her arms around her legs. "Mummy my hands are all cold."

(Y/N) crouched down and pulled her gloves off to warm her daughter's hands with her own.

"Mine too.", Charlie said.

"Come here then!", She said, clasping one hand around Emma's hands and the other around Charlie's.

The sun was lowering already and the air was getting colder in its absence. Slowly, she no longer felt the bite of the children's cooled hands as they began to warm up.

"Perhaps she should head back soon.", She said to Tommy, who was towering above them.

He inhaled sharply but nodded, waiting until all the others had their gloves back on, before leading the way.

(Y/N) followed, one child on each hand, letting them go first when the path was too narrow for the three of them.

"Mummy do we have to go all the way back now?", Emma asked after a while.

"I'm afraid so.", She said.

Her daughter threw her head back and groaned, and when that didn't cater the reaction she wanted, she began to pull at her arm with her whole weight while dragging her steps until half her shoes were covered in dirt.

"Emma, please.", She reminded her sharply.

"I'm not even doing anything.", She argued.

"Yes you are. You're pulling my arm and you're not walking properly."

"I am walking properly!", She insisted, stamping her feet. "You're walking too fast for me."

Oh no, she thought, feeling the tantrum coming. Her plan to calmly continue lasted about another ten leagues, before Emma kicked the ground again only to lose her balance and pull at her arm for real.

(Y/N) yanked her own arm up in time to ensure she didn't crash to the ground fully, but even in the absence of pain, the damage was done.

Emma, despite standing on her two feet for several seconds, chose to drop herself to her knees and began to sob.

"I can't walk, Mummy. My legs are broken!", She wailed.

"No, they aren't."

"They are. They are. You were walking too fast and you made me break my legs!", She accused, slapping her hands against her thigh.

Taking a deep breath, she let go of Charlie's hand and crouched down in front of Emma.

"Darling, your legs are not broken. You don't even have a scratch.", She told her, trying to keep her composure.

Instead of responding, Emma threw herself in her arms with her full weight, going as limp as a sack of flour. It nearly made her lose her balance in the process.

"Up, Mummy!", She demanded, sounding like a child half her age, as round tears ran down her cheeks.

"No.", she said sharply, trying to pry her arms off her, but like most children, Emma had the magical ability to make her two arms feel like eight.

And when she removed her arm from her shoulder for the fourth time, she felt her patience run thin.

"Emma-", she warned, but it wasn't her stern tone that got through. Instead, a lower, gentler one caught her attention.

"C'mere."

The voice startled them both enough to stop their wrestling.

"C'mere, Emma.", Tommy repeated, his voice almost comically calm compared to her impatient instructions a moment earlier.

She slowly pushed herself up and when he reached out and picked her up with ease, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Tommy-"

"It's alright.", He said, before she had a chance to continue. "It's been a long day and she's been busy. Are you still good, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded.

That made her smile slightly as she let him take her hand once more.

They walked back in silence, and long before they reached the yard, Emma's head had dropped against Tommy's shoulder.

Still, he held her, only changing his grip slightly to support her better as her arms and legs went limp from slumber.

Upon their return, they were met by piercing looks, undoubtedly thrown to confirm or deny the suspicions they had begun to debate as soon as they had left.

They looked and they judged and she knew it was not in her favour.

Thankfully though, Tommy walked straight past them, nodding for Finn, who separated himself from Isaiah and Michael.

"You been drinking?", He asked, glancing up and down the frame of his younger brother.

"Just beer.", The youngest Shelby said.

"Good.", His older brother huffed.

"Take the car, take them home.", Tommy instructed, shifting Emma slightly so that he could reach for his keys.

He tossed them to Finn before wrapping his arms around her daughter again, carrying her all the way to the car.

Finn opened the door for them and Charlie slid through, then (Y/N) got in.

Tommy made sure to support Emma's head as he handed her over as gently as possible.

She mumbled slightly, but didn't wake from her slumber, as she took her in her arms, her head resting against her chest.

"Thank you.", She whispered, but he waved it off. In the mirror, she could see him watching as Finn drove them back.

The children were not the only ones tired after that day, although her fatigue was not from running around a scrap metal yard but rather from being chased with glares and questions.

She had always hated to feel attention on her, but today had been particularly cruel. They knew her, had known her, which made it even harder to face them.

She could not pretend or hide the truth from them. They hadn't shown her of course, but they didn't have to. She knew all the same.

So (Y/N) got ready for bed earlier than she normally would have, coming down to make herself a cup of tea, already in her nightdress and dressing gown.

She had undone her hair and brushed it out, letting it fall to her shoulders.

Just as the kettle began to hiss, she could feel the gust of cold air, as the kitchen door opened.

"That late already?", He asked, his voice carrying a trace of amusement.

She turned, but only after making sure her robe was secure.

"I'm just early.", She told him.

(Y/N) knew she ought to be shocked or horrified for him to find her like that, that she should be ashamed or embarrassed, or even scared - but she wasn't. Not anymore.

"Long day?", He asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"They went to bed happy.", She said with a soft smile. "So it's worth something. Tea?"

She always asked, even if he turned her down. He did so today as well, but by the time she took the tray over to the living room, he had built a fire.

He was quite good at that, better than she had ever been.

"Thank you for today.", Tommy said once they sat on the sofa. She had drawn her legs under her, the tea on the small table beside the sofa.

"I tried.", She said. "I know it's not as grand as it would have been if you were at your home, but he seemed to like the cake and the horse especially."

She did not say it without pride, and it amused her especially since she hadn't known about Tommy's gift.

He leaned his head against the back of the sofa.

"It was a lot better than last year, and the year before that.", He admitted softly.

"This was his first proper birthday…apart from his first, which he didn't even realise was his birthday."

She swallowed hard and averted her eyes.

Emma's first birthday without her father had been crushing - and she had been sick for a week after dragging herself through the mental and physical strain of putting on a brave face for her. And yet it wouldn't have been any easier, she thought, with maids and servants.

"I'm sorry.", (Y/N) whispered. "I didn't mean-"

"No.", He said sharply, shifting closer to where she was sitting.

When she only shook her head, his hand found the side of her face and brought it round so he could look at her.

"Don't be sorry, please don't be sorry.", Tommy whispered, as if the thought seemed to cause him pain.

"Not after today.", He repeated, bringing her face closer to his until his forehead was resting against hers.

"Don't ever be sorry for…for any this, not when-"

Tommy broke off and sighed once more.

His hand was still on the side of her face and his thumb gently stroked over her cheek.

A few strands of her hair had fallen out of place, brushing against his knuckles, but he did not remove his hands, and he did not push her hair away.

Her heart began to thunder as she saw the change in his eyes, but not in a bad way- not at all in a bad way.

She watched him glance down at her lips and then meet her eyes again, a silent question, a chance for her to go pull away, to end this before it had a chance to begin. Without strings. Without consequence. If she ended it now, they'd both have complete deniability.

But she did not want to.

When he closed the distance between them, she held her breath.

His lips were gentle, so very gentle as they met hers, as if he feared she might still change her mind.

Only when she began to kiss him back, did he dare to do more than merely brush his lips against hers.

The one hand that cupped her cheek moved to the back of her neck, stroking over the sensitive skin and leaving a curious tingling in its wake.

Her own hands found his chest, and somehow feeling that his own heart thundered as much as hers did calmed her as much as it excited her.

(Y/N) felt her breath hitch as his other hand found her waist, having slipped in somewhere between her robe and her nightgown, but more to steady her than anything else.

It was her, who pulled him in, her fingers brushing over the shorter hair on the back of his head. Her husband had let his hair grow out as soon as he returned from the war, before she had truly known him, so the feeling was entirely foreign to her- soft and yet coarse at the same time.

She pushed herself up on her knees slightly, leaning into him until she felt the fabric of his trousers brush against the exposed skin of her knees.

Tommy broke the kiss only to catch his breath for a moment before his lips found the side of her neck, pressing fluttering kisses down the length of it.

His hair tickled her jawline, and yet it was a different kind of itch that threatened to drive her mad.

She inhaled sharply as his lips brushed over a particularly sensitive spot and for a split second she could feel his lips curl into a smile, before sucking.

"Tommy.", She whimpered as she felt a tingling run from the side of her neck down her spine into every last part of her body.

The vibrations of his humm made her shudder as her robe slipped down her shoulders.

She shrugged it off, as quickly as she could so that she could touch him again, in any way possible.

She had to.

Her own fingers trembled as they fidgeted with the buttons of his shirts. she had barely undone the first few when he reached back and pulled it over his head himself, his undershirt following suit at once.

The light of the fireplace made his pale skin gleam golden, like that of some mythical statue depicting a hero of old- not quite a God, but more than a mere mortal.

The tattoos captivated her attention more than anything else, and, like a moth to a flame, she reached out. Her fingers barely brushed along the lines of the sunburst on his chest, when he pushed back against her, his knees parting hers, thereby pushing her up onto his lap.

A hand on the small of her back kept her steady as the other slipped under the hem of her nightgown, already hiked up. Where his hand brushed against her thigh, they left flickering flames in their wake, and an burning only he could satiate.

Goosebumps appeared all over her arms, despite the ache he caused her.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his finger slip inside of her, almost startled by how easy it was, and how much she yearned for it- for him.

Bit by bit- touch by touch, she could feel herself getting lost, lost in his arms, in the smell of his skin, in the softness of his hair, in the sound of his breath until he seemed to be the only thing left in the world.

Just him and the feeling he gave her.

An almost pathetic whimper escaped her lips as he pulled his hand away.

"Are you sure?", He asked. His eyes, usually so pale, were almost entirely dark now, with some stray strands of dark hair falling into his forehead.

(Y/N) nodded, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if she had just run a race.

"I need to hear you say it…I need to hear you want this- please."

"I do want this.", She whispered, seeing the look of concern fall, toppled by her words.

"Yes?", He asked once more.

"Yes.", She whispered. "Yes."

But no matter how sure she had been, a wave of doubt crashed over her when his hands travelled from her waist upward, slipping under the thin sleeves of her nightgown, feeling it slip from her shoulders in the wake of his touch.

Her body had seen the changes of childbirth and what came after and she wasn't as young as she had once been, nor had she ever considered herself beautiful.

What would he - a man like that- make of her? He, who could not only have half of Birmingham at his feet and in his bed in a heartbeat, but most of London too, no matter if they were dancers in his nightclubs or ladies in lunching circles.

But as his hands ran down the sides of her body, Tommy kissed her as if she truly was beautiful, with a desperate need.

Her fingers slipped under the waistband of his trousers. In search of the buttons on the inside of the fabric, her fingers brushed against him. Feeling how hard he was, sent another wave of need and anticipation through her.

"Don't tease me, love.", He groaned between wet kisses he had pressed on her collarbone. To urge it on, he helped her with the buttons and pushed his trousers down with one hand, wanting to be rid of it.

When she felt him slip inside her, she shuddered. It had been so long, and even if it was far from the pain she had felt on her wedding night, she couldn't deny the strain.

He had felt her muscles tense and slowed his movements, easing it away with tender kisses and practiced caresses and before long it was her that moved against him, eager, no- desperate for more.

When Tommy began to rock into her, almost agonisingly slow at first, she felt the rise inside her, growing, ever growing- a kind of warmth that she could get addicted to.

And it felt right- he just felt right.

End of Part 8

Part 9 will be out on Thursday

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