samieree

[samieree]

Scandalous || Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson x OC

-> Chapter IV ''A kiss'' -> general masterlist -> Michael Jackson masterlist

Chapter V ''Would you like to...?''

It was... hard. Hard to say how she feels after passionate kissing - just for the music video, but with a person she had some feelings for. It was a bit funny, when she reminded herself that she had kind-of-a-crush on him since she was fifteen. That's when 'Thriller' was published. She skipped school with her best friend Christine and spent her savings on the vinyl. It was totally worth it, but she still remembers how her father scolded her, when she listened to the same song for like... two hours.

Yeah... That could get not only on his nerves, but neighbours also. I remember fighting with him over that vinyl, because he had enough of listening to the same songs a few days in a row. In the end, I promised to not play them when he's at home (worth mentioning, that he was often at work).

But... One day he asked me to play this. And he danced and sang with me. One of the happiest days in my life.

She was really happy for a moment. In the moments, when she realised how much she has, how her younger self could only dream about it. Even if her little crush wouldn't change in anything more in the future, she still would have a wonderful friend, and a priceless memory to cherish. And she had a career. Enough money not to worry about the next days, weeks, months, years even. She had a wonderful companion always waiting for her at home, fans, team... Yet all of this had no worth when her mind turned towards him.

Billy.

One of the most - if not the most - important people in her team. Someone trusted with her career, one of the people responsible for her image. Taking care of her contracts, finances, shows and tours, and many more things... Yet she despised him.

His hand moving down her arm, slowly sliding the strap of her bra, while whispering in her ear how he adores her. Other hand holding on her chin, turning her head to face him, because she was turning it away... "I knew you would become a star... Since that moment in that cafe" His nose softly touching hers, she could feel his breath on her lips and she knew he was looking at them. "I created you, I deserve something in return, don't I?" His hand holding hers, moving it to his-

"Damn him...!" Rosalie thought of it again, while sitting in the bathtub. Hot water was pouring from the rainshower. Hot enough to create thick steam that was already in the whole bathroom. She heard some scratching on the doors. Not caring of the water still flowing and that she'll water the floor, she got up and out of the tub, just to open the doors for Lady, and close them again just as the cat walked in.

And then she got back in the tub. Hot water burned her skin and scalp, hair plastered to her back and face.

His hands moved over her nape and down the back, as if tracing her spine. She shivered, but not because of excitement, but terror in her heart. It wasn't the first time, she shouldn't feel anything anymore. She should have gotten used to it. But every time she felt more and more terrified that he would take another step and touch her most intimate part. That he would desecrate her even there. Ruin every love she could possibly feel in the future.

My father would kill him if he knew. I think Michael would too. Back then it wouldn't be called rape, because that wasn't sex, he didn't touch my... and didn't put his... we all know. Even today it might not have been classified like that. As If I wasn't forced to... It's still hard for me to even write about it, but I know it's important. It can happen to everyone, no matter who you are and how safe you think you are. It was especially hard for me then, not only because of what I mentioned a moment ago, but also because he didn't use strength. 'Just' threatened me. Then it would be 'just' sexual assault. And a big scandal and image problem for me. Combining it with my feeling of loneliness in this... I was equally afraid of going to court as about the next time he'll touch me.

"One to ten years... But in reality?" she muttered to herself, closing her eyes and trying not to cry.

In reality, it was possible that no one would believe her. That he would have gotten an even lighter sentence. Maybe even probation. Or maybe he would have been acquitted altogether, if no one had believed her and she would lose everything. His life also wouldn't be the sweetest after such accusations, but apparently, society takes such cases much easier on men than women.

What she saw some times in the newspapers? 'There was no violence', 'She didn't try to run', 'We can't ruin his life basing on words and weak evidence', 'That's not a rape', 'That's not an abuse'. Worth mentioning, that 'weak evidence' described in the article wasn't weak in her eyes. But in judge's was.

Rosalie just felt... Powerless. That she could do nothing. Nothing but write songs.

No one would ever hear them anyway, but at least her emotions could even get a little bit out. Sometimes she would play them on her guitar, ending up sobbing after the first chorus. Billy once flipped through the notebook in which she wrote lyrics. And ripped away the page with lyrics he really didn't like. About injustice, pain, helplessness and work, everything she had to bear. Things that were happening to her just because she was a woman. She got this ripped out page from the bin anyway, and put it back in the notebook.

Good he didn't find the song in which she calls him a devil, following her like a shadow.

Some of those songs she knew by heart already. Even better than her biggest hit.

Rosalie didn't know how much time she had been in the bathtub, deep in the thoughts. But suddenly she heard Lady meowing loudly and scratching and the doors again.

"What is it? It's too hot for you here, sweetie?" she said, her voice breaking a little. Eventually, with a sigh she got up and out of the tub. Again, to open the doors. But Lady didn't want to walk out, instead, she looked at Rosalie with her big eyes. "What?"

Lady meowed again and then Rosalie realised what she meant. Phone rang. Probably for some time now, so she quickly turned off water and grabbed a bathrobe, putting it on as she walked quickly to the living room.

"Hello?" she was wondering who it could be, but then she glanced at the clock: 1 a.m.

God, how long was she sitting in the bathroom? It surely wasn't even midnight as she got in, maybe not even 11 p.m....

And there was only one person who could be casually calling her on this hour, but before she got to ask, the person spoke:

"Applehead to Rosie, do you copy?" Michael. Of course it's him.

She chuckled, though still wasn't in a good mood. Lady was purring and brushing against her leg, as if she knew who Rosalie was talking to. Rosie sat down on the couch, not caring that her whole hair was wet, her feet left traces on the floor, and the bathrobe was already also wet. Lady quickly jumped on her knees and laid comfortably, curling up into a ball of fluff.

"Hear you loud and clear." she answered, trying to bring a light tone to her voice, but - taking into account his reaction - failed.

"You alright?" he asked, hearably a worried tone sneaking into his voice. "Did something happen?"

"A horrible evening. First I burned chicken, then I hit the dresser with my little finger, then Lady found herself a new bed - in my ruined dress..." here Lady looked up at Rosie, as if saying 'Excuse me?', because none of what she said was true. "...and now... And now you called." she finished, joking, this time faking a light tone well.

"Ouch, that hurt my soul." he went along with the joke, but remained suspicious. "Gonna call you out in the next song for that."

"And how will you title it? 'Broken Call, Broken Heart'?" she teased. Maybe it's good he phoned? Instead of sitting in the tub and wasting water, she'll get at least a little bit of comfort. And forget for a short while.

When she couldn't sleep, to get her thoughts to focus on something and eventually drift into sleep, she would play 'The Lady in My Life' or 'Liberian Girl' and most times it worked. Especially when Lady came and laid next to her, nudging Rosalie to hold her - yeah... She liked to sleep with her, she didn't even try to free herself from the hug often.

"Maybe. But simply 'heartbroken' would work as well." he answered and silence fell between them.

Michael - typically for him - couldn't sleep in the night, that's why he called - but that wasn't the only reason. But he didn't know how to start the topic... He wanted to ask her out without asking her out. Like... You could treat it as a date, but didn't have to.

But how to say it? Hanging out with people you have no romantic feelings with is easier. A lot easier. You don't think about how to put things on your mind in words, you just say it with no care.

And now... Especially that Rosalie was clearly not in a good mood, though she tried to hide it... But if he doesn't do it now, he'll think of it all night, and next day, and next, and again, and again... Come on Michael, why one day you can flirt without problems and next you're afraid to ask a simple question?

"Hey, I just thought... Have you ever been to Disney World?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She frowned, though he obviously couldn't see that. That... That definitely wasn't something she expected to hear at over 1 a.m. Though she knew he liked to go to Disneyland, such a proposition never crossed her mind.

"You do know we are currently in New York, right? And still have work." she said cautiously, she didn't want to sound rude, just... serious, taking into account their current position.

"And you do know, there are such things as planes? Even private planes!" she rolled her eyes at that. "And who's to decide when is a day - or two - off, if not the employers?" he pointed out.

She didn't say anything for a long moment. She actually was thinking about it. Going there, with him... It probably won't be peaceful, as people will surely recognize him, but at least they'll spend some time together, away from work. And away from Billy. Well, he has to know where she will be and how long, but he won't be there... So far away, just the two of them (not counting the security...).

Michael's heart was suddenly beating faster. The longer she didn't say anything, the more stressed he was, playing nervously with the phone line.

"A bit above two hours and we have Cinderella Castle in sight. So?" he added, couldn't wait more in the silence.

"So maybe four days off? I'll manage to get to my father's birthday without trying to get through the traffic jam to the other side of the city?"

Every year I wait for my father's birthday. Ever since I was little and my mother was no longer with us. Because on that day I could do something for him, and he couldn't complain. Couldn't say that I shouldn't worry about anything, that he'll manage, that I should have childhood.

When I started working in the cafe I was even happier, because alongside handmade things, I could buy him something, help him. And since I released a successful album, nothing else brought me more joy than helping him with this money. I saw he didn't want to admit it, because he was the man, my father, he was supposed to provide for me, not the other way around...

But he and mother took care of me when I couldn't, when they brought me into the world. He is my father, who else than me is supposed to take care of him, when he needs this? I love him, he loves me, it's easy.

I remember, when coming home he almost always brought me a sweet roll, blueberry bun or any other sweet. Every time it brought me much joy, and as much happiness gives me every moment I can do something for him. And after a long talk, he finally seems to accept that.

I can't wait to see him.

"It's okay with me, as long as you pass to your father a 'happy birthday' from me." at first he wanted to say: 'as long as I'm invited too', but quickly decided against it. It's not the right moment yet...

For now, he got to get her to go to Disney World with him. He couldn't be happier. Well, if she told him why she sounds sad, he might have been happier, because he could look for a way to cheer her up, solve her problem... But maybe she'll tell him on the flight, or in the car, or in the park. If she wants to.

~Author's note~

If I got anything about the effective law back then wrong, please, tell me, and I will check it again and correct accordingly  Actually, if anything is not history accurate you may point it out, I try to make it realistic 💕

[samieree]

Scandalous || Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson x OC

-> Chapter III ''(Not so) beloved manager'' -> general masterlist -> Michael Jackson masterlist

Chapter IV ''A kiss''

Rosalie was leaning to the mirror, to see if her make-up is alright, when someone knocked on the door.

"A second!" she quickly straightened up and fixed her curled hair and walked to the door. Behind them stood John.

"Rosie, may we talk for a moment?" he asked and walked in before she could say anything

Rosie. He always called me that since he miscalled me Rosaline. He wasn't the first or the last to misspell my name, but it seems it touched his ego somehow. Many interviewers later on in my life wanted to call my just Rosie too, but I always built distance with them. I think it's rather understandable that I don't want person who asks me noisy questions to call me sweetly. Especially since Michael likes this diminutive. What I still remember is him saying: 'Here, roses for my Rosie', when giving me a huge bouquet of roses. I think I still have one of them dried.

"About?" she closed the door behind him, frowning.

"I have a vision." he started, taking a seat on the small table, pushing to the side Rosalie's cup of coffee and some hair cosmetics. "To make the scene better, but wanted to ask you first."

"Then go on, ask." she picked up the cup and drank some coffee.

"Do you mind a kiss?"

Luckily she quickly swallowed and only then started coughing. John was really good at surprising her, but this time it hit different.

Of course I didn't mind. I had a crush on Michael, after all, I was fifteen when 'Thriller' aired. I remember spending my pocket money on the vinyl.You know what? I will open my soul completely to you: I skipped school to buy a poster, because I heard from my friend that in the shop that her friend's father works there will be some. Well, I didn't pass the math pop quiz the next day, but to this day I think it was worth it.

If a fifteen year old me heard that she would be able to kiss not the poster, but the man she had on it, she would either laugh or pass out.

Well, but she certainly wouldn't be happy to hear what will be happening between her and her manager.

"Excuse me? I mean-" she stuttered out. A few moments later, when surprise disappeared, she did everything not to show that she actually didn't mind at all. "Did you speak with Michael?"

"Ladies first."

What she didn't know was that... John didn't come up with this idea himself. No longer than a dozen minutes before John knocked on the door of Rosalie's changing room, he spoke with Michael - or rather he spoke and Michael was whispering.

Michael asked him, if he were to take Rosalie to a date, where it would be. It wasn't the most discreet way to admit he liked Rosalie and would like to have something more with her. John's answer was rather direct: 'Michael, just say what you want from me'. When it comes to Michael... Well, he was still rather shy about it: 'Nothing, just... She's nice, I'd like to go out with her, but dunno what she'd like... You think she would enjoy Disneyland?'.

Then something happened that the King of Pop surely didn't expect, but after knowing John for so long, should: 'Give me a minute, you'll thank me later'.

Of course he tried to stop him. Giggling awkwardly he grabbed his arm, but John kept on assuring him that everything is alright and will be perfect, he just has to trust him and not make a scene.

"I trust professionals, if that's your vision..." she put the cup back down, her hand was shaking a bit, but she hoped he didn't see it. "Yeah, sure."

It wouldn't be the first time when she was to kiss someone, outside or for a video. But towards those people she had no hard feelings, surely had no crush. To kiss the Michael Jackson... And have it on the video and be able to watch it over and over again...

I was never so happy that I brushed my teeth.

"Perfect." John smiled, got up from the table and hugged her briefly, before leaving the room.

Just as the doors closed, Rosalie checked her breath. She didn't feel like eating anything after what happened yesterday and brushed her teeth in the morning, but still reached for the mint. Better be sure. But then other thoughts came... What if he's gonna think too much, smelling that she prepared herself? But come on, knowing she's to kiss him, she cannot let her breath be bad. It's rather obvious, she would beg the ground to swallow her if she kissed him with a bad breath.

Well, until I was angry and ate some garlic just for this one purpose.

It was no easy moment for her, when she was standing with her back against the wall, tapping tights with her fingers and waiting for everything to be ready to start filming. Her heart was already beating fast, but started to even faster, when she saw him approaching her.

"Don't stress out, it's just another one of John's ideas. Not like it's something extraordinary..." Michael said. Ironically, while telling her to not be stressed, he looked stressed himself.

"Me? Stressed?" she even scoffed, folding arms across the chest, so she would stop tapping her thighs. "I have no shame in me."

I think at that point it was a lie, but after launching 'Scandalous' in 1991... No, I have no shame at this point.

"How's Lady?" he asked an out of topic question, probably to turn her thoughts to a different direction. And his too, as he almost attempted to rip his hair off after John left to speak with Rosalie. But it seemed that the talk went well.

There he is now, standing in front of her, trying to look cool, hoping not to blush and that his breath is good after quickly grabbing a mint when John was away. And there she is, a beautiful woman he was too shy to just ask out. Maybe now is the time? No, it would be too suspicious... After, after they shoot the scene. The mood will be lighter, there will be some adrenaline, perfect moment-

No, that's even worse. How could he ask her out just after a non-committal kiss? It would be weird and she would quickly figure out he's up to something. And whereshould he invite her? Or rather - where he can invite her so they can have at least some privacy? His house is the most obvious answer, but she was there many times already, nothing new. Restaurant sounds a bit... pathetic, and visibly a date. Theatre or cinema don't sound bad, but there isn't much occasion to talk. Well, he would most like to go to Disneyland... But is she gonna like it? At the same time it wouldn't look so much like a date, so maybe it's a good idea?

"She's... Well. Like always. A little chaos, but lovely chaos. Three days ago she knocked down a flowerpot and was whole in the soil. And she's white, you know. So..." she sighed, but smirked a bit at the memory. "I had to wash her, and surprisingly she enjoyed it. At first she was fighting, yes, but when I got into the tub with her, she calmed down. And now when I take a bath she's scratching the doors to let her in and I have no choice. I guess I no longer have any privacy." they both chuckled as she finished the story.

Actually, yesterday when Rosie was taking a bath, she was scrubbing her body with a sponge so hard that at first she didn't even hear Lady's scratching doors. Probably her soft cries also drowned it out a bit.

She looked up into his eyes, realising how close they're actually standing. Not like they never were close, they hugged quite often after all. But it was different, felt different. She was about to feel his lips on hers, maybe his hand would cup her cheek. In her head 'The Way You Make Me Feel' and her own song about acting like a girl next to this one boy, were playing alternately, instead of the song that was supposed to be in the background when they kiss.

You may believe me or not, but while listening to 'The Way You Make Me Feel' at home I was imagining I'm the girl Michael is chasing and singing too. It might have looked a bit weird. Lady just sat on the couch and looked at me as If doing something very weird, that's why I got this impression.

Actually, I was playing along to his music videos quite often. Sometimes mimicking his moves, sometimes playing some other role and - obviously - singing. I even bought a fedora to be more realistic, but it remained well hidden in my wardrobe as If it was a murder weapon or something.

Oh, and I'm about to embarrass myself, but as I said I have no shame, so I may tell you... Once, perfectly on the bit I hit the table leg with the little finger and let out - I think - the best 'ow!' of my life.

Also, she felt safe next to him. It was so different in comparison to how she acted when Billy was around - and she herself wasn't even aware of the small gestures she did. Like taking a little step away from him and towards Michael. Like fidgeting fingers or playing with the hem of clothes. Like holding breath for a short moment, or slight shiver, or running away with a gaze.

Now all those bad memories and negative thoughts were away, because she was with him. Because he would never hurt her. He is a true gentleman. Such a good change, to feel safe and be free of worries. Through her mind even went a wish, that it could last forever. It was so much better to be on set with him than anywhere else with Billy.

I should have fired him the moment he made a move on me. But I let him cow me.

"No, she just loves you." he said with a chuckle.

"Just like she loved you fedora."

"But she definitely didn't like my pants." he joked, taking another little step closer. "And by the way, I'm still finding white fur in my fedora."

"Sorry?"

She didn't even realise that the music was already in the background, that John shouted something, until she felt Michael's hand on her cheek and just after his lips on hers.

It was so... so good. He smelled mint, same with taste. His lips were soft, almost just like his feather-like touch, as if he was afraid he may hurt her. It was just a short moment, mere seconds, yet she daydreamed like it was hours. She had to hold back, gripping her skirt from the side where there was no camera, to not seek for his lips as he moved away.

"Come on, Mike, I give you a girl looking like a million dollars and you are so dispassionate?"said Johnafter the shot. Oh, I felt pretty hot. "Grab her leg, show some interest. Hey!" he snapped his fingers. "You too Rosie, or did you forget how to move?"

I think we did this scene like five times. All I know is that by the last shot Michael held my leg under the knee and stood so close, that I felt his body on mine and I was afraid I might start sweating. Especially because his other hand held my waist. And what about me? One arm over his neck and another gripping on the hair as If I was holding for my dear life. Well, my heart surely did.

In particular, when I saw the recorded scene and the day of launching that music video.

And I'll add something you probably know, If you're interested in me enough to read this book, but I'll write it anyway: in the first of many special editions of the album the frame of us kissing passionately became the cover. It sold out in a day.

~

-> Chapter V ''Would you like to...?''

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XLII ''A story''

Chapter XLIII ''Ice and fire'' [+18]

Visenya used the free time she had left and went to the forge. The sounds of metal tools hitting dragon glass to shape it into a blade suitable for weapons could be heard all the time. All those who knew that craft were doing that now, to make as many weapons as possible from the raw material brought all the way from her island, so it was very crowded there. She didn't want to interfere, so she even considered leaving almost immediately, but she heard the voice of someone she hadn't had a chance to talk to for too long.

She looked out and saw Arya Stark talking to a man, showing him something on a piece of paper before rolling it up and handing it to him. She might have let it go - despite her desire to win over the people of the North, she would rather avoid talking to people who probably wouldn't be nice to her - but then something caught her eye. It was a dagger, which Arya took out to show the man.

What were the chances that this was the same weapon she had seen in her dreams? Probably a slim chance, but since it had recently appeared in them again, it must mean something. Maybe that was why she had dreamed about it, because it was somewhere here, because she should find it.

"A beautiful dagger." she said, drawing the attention of the two talking. She smiled, trying to look warm. "Valyrian steel? They say it cuts clean." she came closer, stopping a step away from them.

"How did you know?" Arya asked, immediately adding, not looking too pleased: "Your Grace."

"Your Grace." the man also spoke, bowing his head for a moment.

"I guessed, because I think I know this weapon." she explained shortly.

"Have you ever held a weapon in your hands?" Arya's tone came out more mocking than she intended.

She promised her brother - just like Sansa - that she would not be hasty in judging Visenya, but would give her a chance to show her good side, the one he supposedly got to know her from. It wasn't easy after what she had been through, but if Robb had managed it and asked her to do the same, then she was going to at least try - no matter how hard it was for her.

"No, but I've seen it many times in my dreams." she didn't show that she didn't like Arya's slightly mocking tone. "May I?"

At first, she hadn't planned to mention that she had seen something in her dream, because she knew how people approached such things. Most didn't believe in dreaming something, especially the future, despite the evidence, like Daenys, who had dreamed the destruction of Valyria. She had seen for herself many times that her dreams were true - or at least the vast majority of them. She had dreamed dragons, that Jorah would attack her, a meeting with Robb... At this point, she was interpreting every dream she had, taking it as a vision of the future.

Reluctantly, but in the name of trying to build good relations, Arya held the dagger out to her so she could look at it. Visenya took it gently in her hands, immediately searching for the words she had tried to read from the weapon in her dream. However, the signs were too vague to read.

She was about to sigh in resignation, but her eyes were drawn to the fire between the glowing coals. Without saying anything, she inserted the blade there, hoping that the heated steel would reveal its secrets. Arya looked annoyed and on the verge of saying something unpleasant, but she decided to bite her tongue one more time and suffer in silence. She tried to distract herself by looking at the knight who had come after Visenya. She was aware of who he was, and maybe if he hadn't been on the Queen's side, she would have spoken up, to have a sparring match with him, to see for herself if he deserved his reputation.

In the meantime, the steel had managed to heat up and Visenya pulled the dagger out from between the heated coals. This time the words were much clearer, but she still had to squint a bit.

"Hen ñuha ānogar kivio dārilaros māzigon, se zȳhon kessa vāedar suvio perzo sagon." she read in Valyrian, drawing Arya's attention back as she frowned in confusion. "The one who was promised will bring the dawn, and his will be the song of ice and fire."

Or rather: 'From my blood shall come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire' in a free translation, but remembering that dārilaros has no gender in Valyrian. However, she did not want to translate it this way, referring to her family, so that Arya would not think she feels superior because of her origin. If she had any opinion about her, it was probably bad, but she did not want to add to it the fact that she considered herself exceptional.

Although she did not hide from herself that she considered herself to be just that. But not only because she was a Targaryen.

She remembered Melisandre, who had first presented her with this prophecy, and even some of its further part. She also said that her father believed in this prophecy, that it was a dream of her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. Was she right, was she telling the truth? In such a case, Aegon I must have ordered this weapon to be forged, or at least the text on it.

A song of ice and fire... Is the Night King and his army ice and she is fire? Has her whole life come down to this moment? Has she survived all the odds because that's her role? And the rest of her future is in question...?

"Is this an ancestral weapon?" Arya interrupted her thoughts, who - at least from the outside - didn't seem to care much about what Visenya had just discovered. "You'll be outside? During the battle?"

"Yes."

"Do you have anything to defend yourself with?"

"I have dragons." she answered with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Arya wanted to roll her eyes, but she held back. She wrestled with her thoughts for a moment, wondering if she was making the right decision. Finally, she sighed inwardly and decided to do something nice - at least in her vocabulary.

"Take it. In case you fall off." there was a hint of mockery in her tone again, but better hidden than last time. "They'll make me a weapon I designed myself anyway." she added, seeing that Visenya was already opening her mouth to probably refuse.

She didn't want to part with this dagger, but surely if she hadn't suggested it herself, the Targaryen would have asked her for it in some way. Perhaps very veiled, so that it didn't sound like an order but rather a request, but she couldn't refuse anyway, so she got ahead of her. Let her treat it as a good gesture on her part, to start their acquaintance. Although for now she didn't have any opinion about her, apart from the thought that somewhere in the back of her mind was that she was a woman who was entitled. It clashed with what Robb had said about her, but who knew if she had shown her true face even once so far? Maybe this was all just a game to gain trust, to wrap them around her finger? And she came to help only because she didn't want to rule the wasteland?

Visenya, on the other hand, wanted to thank her, but when she said it, Arya was no longer there. Only that boy remained.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Gendry, Your Grace."

"Genry, will you please tell her that I thank her? And that I appreciate the gesture?" she asked, looking at him seriously, as if she was asking for something much more important than passing on thanks.

"Of course, Your Grace." he replied, bowing his head. "Did Your Grace come here for some purpose, or...?"

"Thank you. And no, no... I'm just using the last few free moments. I'd better go, I won't interfere with work." she replied, forcing a smile and started to walk away.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was unwanted here, and that everyone who addressed her was doing it out of necessity. It was a nasty feeling, because her intentions were sincere. And what was even worse was that she didn't know how to show it, and in a way that everyone would notice and appreciate.

"Thank you." Gendry said, stopping her in mid-step. "If it weren't for you, Your Grace... None of this would exist. There would be no dragonglass to craft weapons, nor people to use them. There would be no chance of survival. I don't know if I can speak for everyone, but... at least for myself, thank you, Your Grace."

Her forced smile transformed into a completely sincere one, which also took over her eyes, in which there seemed to be sparks of emotion. She hadn't expected such words from him, so they shocked her even more.

"I swore to myself that I would make the world a better place. I can't do it by standing by and letting people die, regardless of whether they are under my rule or not. So this is the only decision I could make." she felt the need to explain herself, so she did just that, before adding what had been on her mind from the beginning: "I'm very glad you appreciate it."

* * *

After visiting the forge, she went to do one more thing - this time something that Arthur had suggested to her, and even Varys before, but she herself didn't really feel like it. It was about talking to Sansa Stark. Contrary to appearances, they had a few things in common and they should be able to come to an understanding at least a little. Well, not if one side was set in a bad way from the start.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, entering the chamber where she saw Sansa talking to a man. She asked Arthur to stay behind the door and went inside herself.

The conversation died down immediately. Sansa just nodded at the man, probably indicating that they would finish the subject later, and right after that he left, bowing his head as he passed Visenya.

"Is something wrong, Your Grace?" Sansa clasped her hands behind her back and straightened up, turning her full attention to Visenya.

In a way she couldn't admit to herself, she admired her. It might have been largely unconscious, but in the short time they'd known each other, she'd come to adopt her hair style. She'd spent more time on her own hair, on how she could style her braids differently, even though they weren't as visible as they were on Visenya's silver hair.

Besides, she was interested in how, despite her clothing, which borrowed heavily from men's wardrobe, she remained feminine. She didn't hide her trousers and high boots, yet she still had at least an emphasized waist and bust. It was a different approach to femininity, which may not have appealed to her personally, but it suited this woman.

That wasn't the only fact that surprised her. Another was that her brother had fallen in love with her. She had no doubts about that, she was only afraid of what might come of it. Out of love people easily to foolish things, what if she took advantage of it? How would she talk some sense into her brother when the time came?

"I just wanted to talk." Visenya said, pointing to a chair while sitting down at the table herself. She waited until Sansa had also taken a seat before continuing. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't understand. You've done enough, Your Grace."

"You understand." she replied quickly, not taking her eyes off her. "I'm aware I'm a stranger here, and if you didn't need me, you wouldn't be so nice. This isn't my place, and I know that, so I won't try to fit in, but I'd like to be on friendly terms with you." she explained, throwing her leg over the other and resting her hands on her thighs.

"The people of the North don't trust easily, and those of the South don't trust anyone, because everyone only cares about their own interests."

For a moment, Visenya almost took this as contempt for her, as someone born in the South, but she decided to take it as a generalization and keep quiet. She couldn't let herself be walked over, but at the same time she couldn't argue about everything if she wanted to establish even the slightest friendly relations.

"Everyone has some goal in life that they strive for in some way. The most disgusting ones are unfortunately often the fastest." she said, in a way defending the people Sansa had despised.

"And your goal?" she asked, although she answered for her immediately afterward: "The Iron Throne. The path to it is certainly not strewn with roses and it is not won with sweet smiles and kind words."

It wasn't exactly meant to be an attack, more of a provocation, so that she would have to admit that she wasn't as good as she pretended to be. Even if she really wants to be like that, she must have made some mistakes that she regrets. She won't believe that she has gone through life so far without any dilemmas or remorses.

Well, she didn't take into account that people don't confide in anyone about such things, or they do to people they trust a lot.

"The Iron Throne is not my goal, it is only a means to it." it was a simple and honest answer, or rather a correction to the assumption that Sansa had. At the same time, however, she did not address the second part of her statement.

"So what is your goal, Your Grace?"

"To change the world." when she said it, surprisingly it did not sound like a hackneyed phrase that many people had repeated over the years, and ultimately did nothing to fulfill it. Surprisingly, it fell from her lips more like a promise, a certain future. "The Iron Throne is the only way to achieve this in Westeros. Once we defeat the Night King, I will deal with Cersei once and for all - it does not matter where she fled or when she plans to return, I will pull her out of the ground if I have to - and finally claim it completely, taking over the power."

In reality, power was already concentrated in her hands - or weighed on her shoulders, depending on the approach we take. Or at least most of it, since Olenna Tyrell, the Greyjoy siblings, and Dorne had pledged for her. Storm's End didn't have a Lord, so that could be a problem. As for the Vale and the North... Well, that remains to be seen.

Either way, only when all of her enemies were defeated would she be able to truly call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and hold a coronation, to make it official and for the common folk to know that they had a new ruler over them.

"What about the North?" Sansa asked, returning to a topic she would rather forget. "It was taken from us, but we got it back - not to lose it again by kneeling to someone."

She understood what Sansa meant, after all, she had encountered something similar before: When Yara and Theon had sailed to her in Meereen. They had offered her ships, but had also asked her to give them the Iron Islands when the war was over. She had finally agreed, after some conditions had been set.

In this situation, it would be harder to achieve the same thing.

'If everyone starts demanding independence, eventually you won't have any land left to rule, Your Grace.' Who knows, maybe Tyrion was right. Everyone will start ruling themselves, there will be more wars, until someone like the Conqueror and his sisters appears again, who will subjugate the entire continent.

Not a very optimistic vision.

"Robb did not bend the knee to me." she reminded. She also deliberately said 'Robb' and not 'your brother', to put some distance.

"You are here only out of the goodness of your heart, you expect nothing in return?" the tone of this statement was saturated with distrust, which did not surprise Visenya.

"I believe it is my destiny to make the world a better place, to free it from the tyrants who destroy it. And I will do so, no matter the cost." she began slowly, weighing her words. "I don't know much about you, but from what I've known Robb, I know he's no tyrant." she reached out and took Sansa's hand, as if to emphasize her good intentions. "I realize our families have a painful history, but also one of great friendship, such as when Cregan Stark stood up and fought for Rhaenyra Targaryen. I don't know if I can count on that much, but I hope the Crown and the North will become friends in the near future. If we can agree on a few changes that the entire continent needs." at first she wanted to let that last sentence go, but she decided she had to emphasize that she could back down, but not completely.

Visenya's words clashed with the vision Sansa wanted to have in her head. A vision she might not like, because it would be easier than trying to build trust after so many disappointments. But this - just like the person who stopped what she was doing to play with the children with a smile on her face - was impossible not to like, as long as it was sincere, of course.

She had doubts about the last part of her statement, but it was still more than she expected. She thought that asking about the North would provoke a more defensive, sharp reaction, but instead she was surprised - and quite pleasantly so.

She was about to answer, but then Maester Wolkan entered the chamber.

"Forgive me, my Lady, Your Grace..."

It turned out that Theon had arrived at Winterfell with several Ironborn. Contrary to what Visenya had expected, he had managed to rescue Yara, who was sailing with several ships to the Iron Islands to take them on her behalf.

She just couldn't understand why he hadn't gone with her. At least not until she remembered what she had learned from Robb. What Theon had done, both bad and good. And most of all, that he had grown up with the Starks.

She even envied him. He hadn't been raised with his blood family, but at least he had one. Among good people, in a place he could call home. She wished her past had looked at least like that.

* * *

The meeting was supposed to take place in the afternoon, but it started earlier when several wildlings and brothers from the Night's Watch arrived at Winterfell, reporting that the gate in Castle Black had been breached. It was only when she heard this that she felt threatened. Up until now, it had been just conversations, with a huge wall separating them from the undead. Now it all became real and she began to stress out. Especially when they were standing over the map.

"How much time do we have?" Robb asked, looking towards the red-haired wildling, whom she heard they called Tormund.

"A day? No more than two." he answered him.

It was hard to estimate, considering that their enemy was not getting tired and could therefore constantly move. They managed to overtake them, urging their horses all the time, pushing them to the limit. But with what advantage exactly?

"We won't defeat them in direct combat, but at the same time we won't all fit behind the walls."

"The Dothraki are best in the open field, no one rides horses better than them." she said.

"Then they will definitely be outside. Maybe they can attack from the side."

"The Night King created them all, if we defeat him, the whole army will fall. This may be our best chance." Jon interjected.

"If that’s true, then he will never show himself." Jaime pointed out, and she had just thought about it herself.

If that’s true, then they are in a losing position from the start. They have no certainty that the Night King will show up. After all, why would he risk-

"He will." Bran interrupted her thoughts. He hadn't been speaking up until now, and everyone turned their attention to him. "He will come for me. He has tried to kill the Three-Eyed Ravens many times, and he will do it again."

"Why? What does he want?" Sam asked, standing closer to the wall than to the table with the map.

"Endless night. He wants to destroy this world, and I am its memory." he explained, almost too calmly for what those words meant.

To be forgotten. Once, that was what she would have wanted. For Robert to forget her existence, for everyone in the world to forget, and then she could live in peace. If people didn't know the history of her family, there would be no burden on her, no expectations or shameful deeds. She would simply be... herself, and people would judge her that way. But then again, if it weren't for that history... She probably would never have had the courage to do all that she did.

"That's what death is, after all, isn't it? Even if we survive, but we're stripped of our history, we'll be nothing more than animals." it sounded like Sam was talking more to himself than to everyone in the room, but everyone heard it, and there was a long moment of silence.

She doesn't want to be forgotten. She wants to be remembered, as Aegon is still remembered. She may have already made history, but that's not enough. She may be even better, surpassing anyone whose history has been recorded in books so far.

None of this is just pure intentions to change the world for the better. She doesn't want to queen it over those she wants to enlist, but she can admit to herself that she wants to grow into - and even surpass - the expectations that she... has actually imposed on herself. The more you have, the more you want, right? Ambitions grow alarmingly fast. And combining them with a gentle heart that wants the good of all, can be a combination that can easily break morale.

"How will he find you?" Tyrion asked, but at this point she wasn't really listening.

"He marked me." Bran pulled up his sleeve and showed the mark of a hand squeeze on his forearm. "He always knows where I am. So I'll be the bait so that we can destroy him before he destroys us."

She remembered her dream, which she had had back in Meereen. Now she knew that she had to be beyond the Wall. She remembered how every undead she could see had knelt before her on one knee. She remembered the one figure who hadn't. He was different from them, he had no ruined clothes, no bruises or scars, and he wasn't missing any limb. She remembered the cold breath on her face, as icy as the blue of the figure's eyes. She remembered how he almost touched her cheek, and then smiled mysteriously. As if he knew that they would meet someday...

'Death itself will bend its knee' - it would be hard not to repeat Melisandre's words in her head, part of the prophecy she had presented to her. She had dismissed it before, but now it all came together into a coherent whole. This dream had a deeper meaning, despite what she had thought.

Perhaps she is only convinced of her own greatness and adapts the words of the prophecy and all its other signs to her person, but in the end she believed with all her being that she is the princess that was promised. Hers will be the song of ice and fire, her victory over darkness will be remembered even hundreds of years after her death, longer than Aegon's conquest.

But... Does this mean that her role will end there? That all the great things she has planned may not come true? This is her destiny, until then the history need her? No, her future must hide much more, it must...

"And how can you be sure that he will come for you personally, and not simply send his army to kill you?" she asked Bran, finally joining the conversation again.

"He was once a man. He waited for this moment for thousands of years, he will want to do it personally. I will wait for him in the Godswood." he answered her.

"You won’t be alone there-" Arya began, but then someone interrupted her.

"He won’t be alone, because I’ll be with him, along with the Ironborn." Theon declared, and almost everyone’s gaze shifted to him. "I took this castle from you once... Let me at least defend you now."

"You’re mostly archers." Visenya pointed out. "At least have a few Unsullied with you, they’ll be better at close range. You can shoot from behind them."

"That's what we will do." Bran agreed.

It was hard for her to focus on planning, even though it was the most important moment - right after the battle itself, of course, but decisive for its outcome. She caught a repetition of the fact that despite its size, the castle would not accommodate all the soldiers - besides, it had already been mentioned earlier that the Dothraki will fare much better on the field. She also heard wondering whether the Night King could only revive those he or his army had killed. After all, a shelter had to be found for those who would not fight. Normally, such a place would be the huge, multi-level crypts extended under the castle - and she doesn't think anyone even came up with a better idea, at least from what she heard.

In her defense, she probably wouldn't speak up anyway, because she simply doesn't know anything about planning a battle. Even if she ever had any ideas, she consulted them with her advisors, who were more familiar with the subject. However, after noting the need to prepare barrels with oil, she heard something that made her have to interfere. The idea was to give a signal to set the trench on fire.

"I’m sure Ser Davos will be just fine with swinging the torch himself." she interrupted the conversation, turning to Tyrion. "You’re better at thinking than fighting, and that’s what I need you for when the battle’s over. That’s why you’ll stay safe in the crypts."

"Your Grace, I’ll point out that I’ve fought before, so I can-"

"I have over a hundred thousand soldiers - and only one you. As I said, you think better than you fight, so that’s what you should focus on."

Tyrion knew he could do no more than nod. This was one of those moments when it would be hard to convince Visenya, and it wasn’t exactly urgent matter that he would do anything to change her mind on.

"The dragons will help us in the field, perhaps even give us an advantage." Davos said after a moment of silence.

"They won’t be defending Bran then, and we need to stay close to him. Not too close, because then the Night King won't come, but close enough to get there in time." Jon pointed out.

"Will dragonfire stop him?" Arya asked, turning to her younger brother.

"I don't know. No one's ever tried that."

"We can easily find out." Visenya said. "I'll go, find him and check it out."

"I must strongly protest, Your Grace." Tyrion immediately intervened, looking at her seriously. "It's too dangerous."

He protested the same way when she had a similar idea before. And this is one of those moments when he has to do everything to get the idea out of her head.

"Sooner or later I'll expose myself to some danger. What's the threat? From what we know, the undead can't shoot a bow, so nothing will hit me." she replied, even shrugging slightly.

"But you'll be alone." he emphasized.

"Not alone, but with Maelia, Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal." she used the same firm tone as he had a moment ago to emphasize her words.

"We've discussed this before, dragons are not invincible, and neither are you."

"He's right." Robb interrupted, something neither of them had expected. "We don't know the full capabilities of our opponent, it's best not to take unnecessary risks."

She said nothing, but stared at Robb for a long moment, then sighed softly, which Tyrion already knew meant she had given up.

There was a long silence, during which the only sounds were breathing or some brief noise outside the hall, somewhat muffled by the closed door. Everyone looked at each other or averted their gaze, wandering around the map, just to avoid meeting someone's gaze.

"We will all die." Tormund said finally, as if summing it all up. "But at least we'll die together." he smiled slightly, a little sadly, looking at Brienne, who refrained from rolling her eyes.

"If I shared your approach, I would have been dead long ago." Visenya replied, referring to her difficult past. "But I am here and I do not intend to die. And attitude changes a lot, I assure you." a slight smile appeared on her face, as if she was actually able to comfort and raise the morale of the others gathered in the chamber in this way.

"We should all rest. We do not know how much peace we have left." Robb said this after another short moment of silence. His gaze fell on Visenya again, and this time it took a long moment for their eyes to meet.

Tyrion noticed this. Even when everyone started to leave, they kept looking at each other, furtively, but if someone had looked at them for even a moment, it would have been obvious. He didn't know what to think about it.

Visenya, on the other hand, was afraid to tell about her true feelings, out of fear of rejection - something that had never happened to her before. She had always been courted, she didn't have to try to keep someone's interest. It seemed to her that Robb might be waiting until they were alone, which she was also afraid of. She wasn't prepared for that, not now, not here. Not when everyone would know that they were the only ones left here and that they were definitely talking about something, heck, someone could even overhear. Besides, maybe it was more about the fact that she was used to chasing something she cared about, not someone.

That was why she also - although she was one of the last ones - took her steps towards the exit, but she did not break their eye contact, especially when she noticed that he was watching her leave.

Was it... an invitation? Did she want him to follow her? He himself was confused. Even when the uncertain future was more distant, he had been postponing the moment of confrontation - after all, there was still time for it. Maybe he had just imagined something. Maybe this was all just a brilliant manipulation. Maybe it wasn't fair to Talisa after all.

They could die any day now. She loved him, she would want him to be happy. Maybe not in the arms of another woman, but she was already dead, and Visenya was very much alive. Maybe there was nothing after death and they would never meet again. And if they had at most a day left to live, he couldn't waste it on worry and stress. He himself had said that they should rest, and he won't be able to do that if he doesn't get out what he himself had no idea when it had accumulated inside him.

Before he knew it, he was alone in the chamber. But not for long, because he stepped out with determination, swinging the door open.

Perhaps the storm in his heart would finally end. * * *

When she returned to her chamber, she immediately began to prepare for bed. She really needed a quiet night, so that when the time came, she could act as best she could. Although it was not certain whether she would be able to sleep through the night and get enough sleep, not in these circumstances. She took the ornament out of her hair and removed the silver chain from her chest. Immediately afterwards, she began to unbutton her coat, but then she heard a knock on the door.

"A minute." she said, fastening the hook and eye again. She quickly reached for the ornament to put it back in her hair and the chain across her chest.

She showed herself 'unofficially' to few. Appearance was very important to her, after all, appearance can say a lot about a person, create different impressions. What impression would the Queen make with her clothes unbuttoned, her hair only half-done, her head lowered and her back hunched?

Of course, there were a few people who could see her like that and she didn't feel uncomfortable with it. Among them Missandei, with whom they often done each other's hair. Or Ser Arthur, who was like a father to her. Daario, with whom she had shared many nights, could also be counted in this group. She remembered how on Dragonstone, after a sleepless night, she had stumbled upon Tyrion in the corridor, who had seen her in more sloppy clothing because of it, which frustrated her a bit. He said they could trust each other, but she seemed to want to prove something all the time.

She ran her hands through the strands of hair on the sides of her face and finally went to the door, opening it. At first she thought it was Tyrion who had come to talk to her about what had happened during the meeting, so she looked down instinctively, but her gaze met someone's chest, so she quickly lifted it.

Robb.

She had some hope that it would turn out to be him, but she tried to convince herself that it was just her imagination.

"Can I?" he asked, of course he meant if he could come in.

She didn't answer, only feeling her heart speed up she let go of the door and moved aside, making room for him. While he closed the door behind him, she took off the things she had just put on to open the door. She put them back on the dresser and stood in front of the mirror, reaching her hand to her hair and starting to unbraid it.

"Are you afraid?" he didn't know how to start a conversation or how to actually say what he wanted. Right after he said it he thought that it might not be the best start, but someone had to start somewhere, and it didn't look like she wanted to do it.

For a second her hands in her hair stopped. He surprised her with that question.

Fear had accompanied her most of her life. Even when she had nothing to lose but her life, it was worth a lot in itself, wasn't it? All the more so because she was the last of the dynasty. Then, when she started to gain, she was afraid of losing what she had. As her relationships with her friends developed more and more, she also began to fear losing them more and more.

But most of all... Most of all, she's probably afraid of failure. Letting down all those who believed in her, entrusted their lives to her, and followed her. Her fall means the fall of thousands of people.

Stupid, that's not what he means.

"I won't die," she replied confidently and in line with what she believed in. "I'm afraid for those who are dear to me." she added, casting him a look through the reflection in the mirror.

"Life without some hurts more than death itself."

By now, she had finished unbraiding the last braid and turned to him. He was looking at some undefined point, so she guessed he was recalling what he had just said. She had heard about the Red Wedding much earlier than he had told her about his experiences, but to hear it first-hand... It hit much harder.

"I believe in destiny, it makes it easier to accept certain things." she said, clearly tearing him out of his thoughts.

"You look beautiful with your hair down." he complimented her, his gaze roaming over her face and briefly over her figure.

She knew it was just an attempt to distract her from what he was going through inside. She wanted to help, especially since she wanted to occupy an important place in his heart, and she couldn't even be sure if it was free. And what if this was her last chance? Since she had terrible experiences behind her, maybe she would be able to reach him and become his oasis, and he hers?

He thought he had already worked through it. That after all... After all, he could move on, but... He wouldn't be able to do it alone.

"I've never met him, like most of the people they teach you about. But I've heard a lot of rumors, even from Tywin himself, sometimes he liked to talk to me. From them I know that Walder Frey would betray you anyway, no matter what you did." she stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, then sliding it lower, and finally squeezing lightly above his elbow. "They're dead, and you're alive. They're in the past, don't stay there with them."

Selaria, Daenerys, Ser Barristan... I hope I haven't let them down completely, that if there's something after death, they're at least a little proud of me.

"I know how it feels." she said quietly, taking another step closer. "I think about them, almost every day, I do, but I've accepted those losses. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have had my dragons, my army, I wouldn't be where I am, I wouldn't have helped all these people and... I wouldn't have..." she hesitated, biting her lower lip. Her heart was pounding with emotion, she didn't know what the outcome of what she was going to say would be.

She fell silent. At the same time, she really wanted and didn't want to say it. It got stuck in her throat and she couldn't take it back or throw it out. She may break off the sentence or finish it. She was never a coward, and yet she was on the verge of backing out. If he hadn't just looked up and looked her in the eye, she would have done it.

"I wouldn't have you." she finished in a whisper, and then immediately looked away. "If I... If I have you." she added, and it was a good thing she had hurried, because she would not have been able to say anything just a moment later.

Robb took her face in his hands and lifted it slightly, kissing her right on the lips. Encouraged, she immediately returned the caress. His lips were softer than she expected, even if she had already realized that his touch could be firm but still gentle. They pulled away only when they ran out of breath.

"I am yours, for the rest of my days, even if you are not mine." they remained close enough that she felt his lips on hers as he spoke.

"I am." she replied, but very quickly and quite indistinctly, because she stood on her tiptoes and initiated another kiss.

She wanted it. She wanted it so much that the layers of clothes that separated them ached as she threw her arms around his neck to get closer. She felt hands gripping her waist tightly, as if they were afraid that she might leave. She removed one hand from the back of his neck and began blindly untying Robb's leather shirt, still actively participating in each of their kisses.

Her body fit so perfectly in his arms, as his hands roamed her back, that it was like a dream. He still held her close with one hand, and pushed the other between their bodies to unbutton her coat, but even the rush in which they undressed each other was not enough. They both wanted to feel each other as close as possible as soon as possible, they had waited long enough for this. Now was not the time for sweet words and confessions, but for the action of bodies desiring each other.

The tops of their clothes quickly found themselves on the floor, it was harder with the trousers, which got tangled at the shoes and it took more commitment to kick them off - yes, not take them off but kick them off, because their hands were already busy exploring bare skin or buried in hair. In one quick movement, bending down and catching her under the thighs, he lifted her up and threw her on the bed a few steps away. She smiled through the kiss, he could feel it.

"M-m." she managed to squeeze two fingers between their lips to push him away for a moment. "Not in dirty shoes to my bed."

He laughed briefly, burying his face in her neck, momentarily immersing himself in the wonderful scent of her skin. She was all wonderful, both inside and out. The best person he had ever met in his life, so pure and... impossibly perfect. If this was just an pretense, then he didn't want to know the truth, he'd rather stay in this sweet illusion for the rest of his life. He wanted to wake up next to this woman every day, feel her warmth next to him, braid her silver, soft hair for her, be the reason she would smile. After all, her smile was beautiful, it warms heart, but  appears so rarely. He wanted to surround her with love and adoration, because that's what she deserved. To worship her, to make love to her from sunset to sunrise and even longer, if she allowed it. With her, nothing could end badly, with her everything made sense, with her he felt fulfilled. If he won't be inside her in a moment...

After a few kisses planted in the crook of her neck, he sat up - reluctantly, because she was combing his curls so wonderfully - grabbing her tightly around the waist and pulling her along. She laughed gently and rested her foot on her knee, starting to untie her right shoe. Every now and then they glanced at each other, and taking off their shoes was like a race.

They finished at about the same time. Visenya took the opportunity to reach out, prop on his shoulder and straddle him. She immediately felt hands on her hips, which then slid down to her buttocks and squeezed them. She took his face in her hands, stroking her thumbs over his stubble. Once again she looked into those blue eyes, as intense as Maelia's scales when they sparkled in the sun. Ever since she saw them in her dream she hadn't been able to get them out of her head, even when she was with Daario. And now they were finally together. She felt in her lower abdomen how much she needed him at that moment, and if that wasn't enough, the situation between her legs only intensified that feeling.

He's so... perfect - with that she leaned down and started kissing his jaw, almost immediately feeling the open-mouth kisses on the side of her face. It made her feel even warmer, plus her hair surrounded her entire back, as well as his shoulders. It was as if they created an even more private space in an already closed room.

She reached between them and grabbed him, causing Robb to sigh loudly - and herself as she lifted her hips and then, with his assurance, lowered them. She slid her hands from his face to his neck and shoulders, gripping them tightly as she breathed deeply, getting used to the feeling of being filled. Robb pulled her by the nape so that their foreheads rested against each other. Words were so unnecessary. No poet, not even the best, could convey what a look, a touch, a breath or hearts beating in unison could. Even valyrian, the most perfect language, could not convey it. It could only be felt and understood with reciprocated love.

After the rush to get rid of all the barriers between them as quickly as possible, came this moment of silence, of peace. When bodies merged into one, just like hearts, and communication occurs subconsciously.

A few minutes of sweet pause passed and again desire began to demand fulfillment. Both of Robb's hands were on her hips again, encouraging her to raise them herself and then lower them again. She did so, slowly moving up and down, savoring every moment when pleasure shot through her body like lightning. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his hair, tangling them between dark curls, when he leaned down and began to tease her breasts with his tongue. Unhurriedly, with deliberation, first one received attention, then the other. Lips kissed and caressed, tongue left wet traces, and stubble teased the skin, especially delicate on her breasts. Then the caresses accumulated in the central point between them, causing more shivers as the kisses went higher and higher. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, feeling him gently reach her chin.

His hips began to meet her calm up and down movements, which clearly suggested impatience. She smiled gently, straightening her head and combing his hair. She was about to say something, maybe even joke about his impatience, but then Robb's arms tightly grabbed her waist and she only managed to gasp loudly in surprise when he turned her onto her back. His lips found hers in a passionate kiss, not waiting for any invitation, just inviting himself inside with his tongue. He grabbed her calf and threw her leg over his hip, creating a better position for intense thrusts.

A moan escaped Visenya's lips - the first of many - only slightly muffled by the kiss, and her nails dug into his nape and back, surely leaving some mark. When she kept her leg hanging on his hip on her own, he slid his hand down, to her thighs. The skin on the inside of them was soft and smooth as silk, but the top of them was an even nicer place. One he wished he could never leave. And he wasn't the only one with an impossible wish for this moment to never end. It was obvious from her reactions that her only regret was that neither of them found in his heart to do it sooner.

While Robb and Visenya were enjoying each other and the feelings they had finally admitted to, Jon stopped outside the chamber. He wanted to tell her what he had learned from Sam and Bran. They barely knew each other, but she had to know that they were related, that they were half-siblings. He didn't know how she would react, but it was the right thing to do.

He stopped with his hand just over the door's surface, he was about to knock on it, but he heard sounds from inside that suggested only one thing - and it was certainly not a good time to interrupt, whoever was there with her, although he had his suspicions.

So he left, deciding that he will tell her everything the next day.

~

-> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[samieree]

Silver Princess || House of the Dragon

Daemon Targaryen | Aemond Targaryen | Gwayne Hightower

-> Chapter XIV

Chapter XV ''Outburst''

Almost a decade had passed since that ill-fated night, exactly eight years, but its effects were still visible. Rhaenyra had never been to the capital during that time. At first, Valaerya, along with Daemon and their daughter, had visited her, Laenor and 'their' children on Dragonstone. However, when Viserys' health began to decline again, they had ended up on exchanging letters. And even those were increasingly rare. Dragonstone was not far from the capital, yet their contact had almost disappeared over the years.

Not to mention that Valaerya had been irritated by her sister's behavior most of the time. She could understand her dislike for Alicent and her desire to escape the problems of the court, but it was her duty as the heir to the Iron Throne. Especially now, when their father was getting worse and the Hightowers had gained more power than ever before. She was afraid of what would happen when her father died, and that would certainly be sooner rather than later...

They were just walking through the Red Keep, despite the cane he was also leaning on her. Despite everything, she was glad that he wasn't just lying in bed, and that he wanted to leave the room and go for walks - even if only for a short while. It meant that he hadn't given up yet, and that was worth its weight in gold in their current situation. As long as he lived, they were at least relatively safe.

They went to the terrace, where as always a chair was waiting for Viserys, in which she helped him sit down, adjusting the pillows under his back.

"What a beautiful day we have today." he said, breathing deeply - partly enjoying the truly wonderful weather, and partly tired of coming here from his chambers. He turned his gaze to her, or at least the one eye that remained, the other one the Maesters had removed, since he couldn't see anything with it anyway, and it was supposed to help stop - or at least slow down - the unknown disease. "You're glowing." he stated, smiling at her sincerely.

It was one of those rare moments during the day when he was happy. When his daughter was with him. Just like that, she just was there. She didn't have to say anything, it was enough for her to listen to what he had to say or even spend time in silence, which wasn't uncomfortable.

He loved looking at her. She wasn't just the image of her mother, she reminded him of the glorious history of conquest - maybe because of the clothes she wore. Additionally, her name brought to his mind the image of Old Valyria, which he had always been so fascinated by. But that wasn't all. Her appearance brought to him memories of his own youth. She didn't seem older than the day after the twentieth name day.

Valaerya smiled back, clasping her hands under her slightly outlined belly. She was glad that she had managed to get pregnant again - after all, so much time had passed since Visenya's birth, she was afraid that she wouldn't have any more children. Besides, her father seemed to be heartened by the news of another grandchild.

"Thank you, father." she said, although she had to admit that every time she looked in the mirror she felt uneasy.

She should be glad that neither her face nor any other part of her body showed any signs of aging - after all, anyone else in her place would have been over the moon. But she couldn't help but wonder why, but she never came up with an answer.

Standing and looking out at the city spread out before them, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. As if someone's gaze was fixed on her back, which only added to her discomfort.

"I'll have some tea brough for us." she said, so she could look around unnoticed.

It wasn't hard to see who was watching her. As soon as she turned back to the keep to accosted a servant, she saw Aemond standing in the doorway. She passed him, locking eyes with him for a moment. It didn't take long for someone to pass by, and she told the servant to bring the king some tea. As she was returning to the terrace, a voice stopped her.

"Sister."

She stopped and turned slowly, forcing a gentle smile onto her face.

"Is something wrong, Aemond?" she asked, tilting her head. She didn't like the sudden attention from her younger brother, especially since it wasn't the first time she'd noticed him in her vicinity. "Do you want to spend some time with your father?" she added when he didn't answer.

"I'd rather not." he replied dryly, but not taking his eye off her.

She didn't say anything more, just went back to her father, but perched on on the railing so she could see Aemond, who hadn't moved from his spot. She was tempted to go over and tell him to leave, but she didn't want to start any unnecessary conflicts. After a few minutes, however, it began to bother her and she couldn't ignore it.

"Maybe I could read something to you?" she suggested to her father, tearing her eyes away from her brother.

"That would be wonderful. If only it could be a story-"

"I know, I'll get something." she interrupted, stepping away from the railing. She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, smiling - in a forced way, but perhaps he didn’t notice.

She didn’t mind reading to her father, especially since his eyesight had gotten worse, but this time she used it as an excuse to go and talk to Aemond, who annoyed her with the way he kept looking at her.

She grabbed his arm tightly as she passed him. He didn’t resist, allowing her to pull him down the hall, a sly smile on his face.

"May I ask what you’re doing, dear brother?" she asked, trying to keep her voice flat, but she couldn’t stop the suagry tone from creeping into her question.

"Is it something forbidden?" he replied innocently, as if he really didn’t realize that Valaerya didn’t like what he was doing.

"I’m uncomfortable with this." she answered truthfully, letting go of his arm and instead crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why?"

She took a deep breath, so that her nerves wouldn't get the better of her. She usually didn't run into her siblings too often.

Not that she hadn't saved a few servants from Aegon over the years, trying to root out his behavior - even though she wasn't his mother, but she clearly hadn't been up to the task of raising her son with her father. His older sister might not have been any kind of authority figure to him, but at least he pretended to listen to her as she explained why it couldn't be done. Every time, she wanted to tell him that the next time she finds out about something like this, she'd find someone who would treat him the way he treated those girls, but she held herself back. What good would it do if she intimidated him if he still didn't understand why he couldn't act like that - If she'd even scare him. Well, she hadn't heard anything alarming in months, so maybe she had finally managed to achieve something - or maybe Aegon had learned to hide it well enough. She was disgusted and repulsed by everything he had done in his life, but at least she could try to prevent further harm.

Alicent tried to keep Halaena at distance from her, and she was well aware of that. Alicent had always thought Valaerya would be a bad influence on her only daughter. When Halaena gave birth to the twins, they almost had a fight in the middle of labor, precisely because Alicent absolutely did not want Valaerya there. The princess was willing to let it go, so as not to cause trouble, but then Halaena asked her mother to let her sister stay with her.

On second thought, she had the least contact with Aemond, rarely even accidentally bumped into him - apart from the fact that the Red Keep was huge, and neither of them spent all day there.

Though who knows, maybe he saw her more often than she saw him. Since he did not talk to her, and only stood in the distance, his gaze roaming over her body, from the top of her head to the heels of her shoes.

"I have a husband I care about very much. And I would rather he did not beat my younger brother to death over some stupid idea of ​​his." she explained rather evasively. "Don't do that again." she added in a much more blunt tone, walking away towards the king's chambers, to get the book she had promised to bring.

* * *

Returning to the chambers in the early afternoon, she expected her eleven-year-old daughter to throw herself at her, longing for her. However, she found something else: Daemon, spending time with her. He was sitting in an armchair with her on his lap and teaching her Valyrian, from what she had managed to notice.

She held back a sigh. It seemed that they were seeing each other less and less. She guessed that Daemon was not coping well with his brother's illness and instead of facing reality, he preferred to avoid it.

She didn't say a word, but they noticed her quickly. Visenya quickly jumped off her father's lap and ran to her, hugging her.

"Will you go with me and dad to the Dragonpit?" she asked, taking a step back and looking up at her.

"Of course, my dear." she smiled at her, moving hand through her daughter's loose hair. She noticed that there was a ring on Visenya's finger - she hadn't taken it off since Daemon had given it to her. It was the same as hers, she remembered her husband giving it to her after their daughter was born.

At least she is happy. She has no idea how uncertain the future is.

"But you won't go like that, will you? Unless you want to ruin your dress. Oh, and sit still for two hours waiting for Lara to comb your hair?"

The girl laughed at her mother's words.

"Then I'll go and change. But wait for me!" she ran out of the chamber, followed quickly by Lara, one of her servants.

They were left alone. Neither of them said a word as the door closed. They just stared at each other, Daemon crossed his legs and looked away, perhaps a little embarrassed by his attitude towards his brother's illness.

"Daemon." she approached and stood next to the armchair, resting her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Love." he turned back to her,grabbing her waist and pulling her a little closer so he could rest his head on her stomach.

"If you care about me so much, you could start supporting me." she replied, her tone quite sharp, even though her hand was gentle as she lifted it and ran it through his hair.

"I’m here."

"More for her than for me." she moved her other hand to his chin and lifted it up so he looked at her. "He is your brother."

"And she is our daughter, she has her whole life ahead of her-"

"I do not choose between my father and my child. And the longer he lives, the longer our fate is certain, and the war is distant." it was a very cold view of the situation, as if Viserys was more of a pawn on the board than a living person, but unfortunately that was how it was. Especially since his condition was getting worse day by day, she could see it.

Daemon would see it too, if he did not avoid seeing his brother. On the one hand, she understood it, because she herself watched with sadness how her father's life was becoming more and more fragile, and she could do nothing about it. But she loved him, no matter what had happened in the past, he was her parent, she had many pleasant memories of how he took care of her. She could not imagine leaving him to slowly die surrounded by vipers.

"Would you like Visenya to leave you like this when you're old and sick?" she asked.

"I'd rather die in fight before that." he let go of her and put his hands on the armrests, tapping them lightly with his fingers. "As for Visenya... We should talk." he stood up.

She frowned. She didn't like the sound of that. What could possibly be relevant to their daughter now? Had she done something bad? No, definitely not, she's such a lovely child...

"What's there to say?"

"The matter of her getting married."

For a moment she didn't know what to say, until a loud laugh escaped her lips, as if Daemon had just told the best joke she'd ever heard. She braced herself with her hand on the back of the chair she was still standing by. But her laughter quickly stopped when she realized Daemon was completely serious.

"I'll pretend I misheard." she said, the smile disappearing completely from her face.

"We know how uncertain even the coming days are, and this is one of the few things we can do to protect ourselves: arrange for Visenya and Jace to be engaged."

"As far as I know, Rhaenyra plans to talk to Rhaenys, and betroth the boys to Laena's daughters. And what would be best for our situation would be for Rhaenyra to be in the capital, so that when father dies she can take the throne and crown herself the Queen." she pointed out what had been annoying her for a long time. "That's all." she emphasized it, wanting to show that this conversation should end here, but anyone who knows Daemon knows that if he wants to have his way, he will.

"That won't stop the rumors about the boys' birth."

"And how would Visenya silence them?"

"Because she is ours, and above all yours, in a direct line from the current king, completely of Valyrian blood. By doing so, she will strengthen his position, and one day they will rule together-"

"And what does it matter what people say?" she interrupted him. "There is no doubt that the boys are Targaryens. Only the Velaryons may feel offended, and it is their support that we must remember and worry about."

"I would prefer - probably as much as you do - for Visenya to stay close to home, and not go somewhere to the other part of Westeros." he tried to force his convictions, but so far he had only succeeded in annoying Valaerya.

"No. And that's my final word. You will not marry my daughter to anyone."

As soon as he brought up the subject, she remembered how many years ago she had sat on the edge of the bed, not long after her father had fainted, and had talked to him about her marriage. He had not indicated a specific person to whom she should be bound for the rest of her life. He had said that Daemon had asked him for her hand, but that it was her decision to make, because it was about her life.

He had given her a choice, and she was very grateful for it. That was why she would not make decisions for her daughter, and she would not let anyone else make them for her.

"I want her to have the same choice as I did." she replied slowly, approaching him. "Do you think you would be my husband if I didn't agree to it?" she looked at him from the bottom to the top, as if with contempt. "I could have said 'no' and that would have been the end of your dreams about me. I could have chosen from all the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms and who knows... Maybe I would have been happier." she added the last sentence not so much believing in it, but to hurt him.

Truth be told, she didn't know who else she could bond with and be happier with. She didn't feel like her heart had a chosen one for whom she would be ready to tear it out of her chest. Sometimes she wondered if she wouldn't feel best if she was alone. But then there would be no Visenya, her most beloved person in this vile world...

"No one would care for you like I do, no one would do more for you than I do!" he replied. Clearly her words, which were meant to hurt, had fully fulfilled their role.

"Everyone would be eternally grateful for a connection to the court and heirs who would ride dragons!" she walked past him, spreading her hands to the sides in frustration. She snorted, rested them on her hips and turned to him. "Do you really think I would let some Lord rule over me? That I would let you rule my life and that of my daughter?!"

"She's also my daughter!"

"And Viserys is your brother, yet you act as if you don't care about him!" she pointed out. "You said you loved him, that you loved me. I don't want the kind of love that only exists when it's easy!"

She moved away and approached the table, leaning her hands against it, because she suddenly felt weak after this outburst of anger. She didn't want to hear anything from him anymore, not a single word, not even a murmur. He wanted to do something like that to her daughter, her only daughter, her only child for now, the apple of her eye...

It seemed to her that he loved her as much as she did, but maybe she was wrong... Maybe what they say is true and women love their child differently, more than anyone else in the world can, she is with her child from the very beginning, protects it her whole life...

She felt a surge of emotion, as if she was about to cry. Her daughter... Still so young. Her little flower, her sun, her brightest star in the night sky. She would do everything to make her live in health and happiness. She couldn't live her life for her, so she wouldn't dictate it to her either. When she will be old enough to understand all this... When perhaps her heart will beat faster for some young man... Then she will make this decision about her future. And no matter what it is, she will support her in it.

"Sweetheart..." he approached her and hugged her gently, resting his head against hers and speaking quietly into her ear. "You yourself are talking about what will happen when the king dies, what we must do to win the coming war as soon as possible, to ensure a safe future for ourselves. If Visenya marries Jace, it will unite the family - or at least the real part of it. That will be the first step-"

She didn't even say a word, she didn't know what she could say, as if she wasn't thinking at that moment. She grabbed a vase with a few flowers, standing on the table, which she was leaning against. She turned - at the same time moving away from Daemon as much as she could - and broke the vase on his head.

The glass, before it fell to the floor - or individual pieces dug into his skin - injured the side of his head and part of his face, although she thought he didn't feel it yet, looking at how shocked he was by what she had done.

He almost fell over from the force of the blow and instinctively covered the sore spot with his hand, but the pain was only just beginning to creep into his consciousness. There was silence, dead silence. They looked at each other, Valaerya's eyes getting watery, but she didn't seem to regret what she had done.

He doesn't understand, he doesn't understand anything, absolutely nothing.

She slowly let go of the edge of the table, not even realizing how hard her hand had gripped it. She turned and started to leave the room, not thinking that she could have even killed him, that she should call for the Maester. The only thing on her mind was that she had hit him.

She raised her hand and rubbed her eyes, expecting tears, but she was surprised to find that there were none.

She had never stood up to anyone like that, had never fought so hard for her reasons, had never wanted to get her way so badly. What she was feeling was strangely... Very liberating. She is not someone who can be disposed of left and right, and she can show it. She is not anyone, she is not like everyone else. She is the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, she is a Targaryen, she has dragon blood in her.

I hit him. I really hit him.

I can do anything.

She can and will make people listen to her when she wants them to. She wasn't born to be a quiet, obedient girl, at the beck and call of men who would decide her future, but to stand up to those very people. To prove to them that they are not all-powerful, that their egos are bigger than their capabilities.

She slowly left the room, closing the door behind her. With each passing moment, the shock she was in was letting up a little. She wanted to go to Visenya's room, to see if she was ready. She would go with her to the Dragonpit herself.

However, the more the shock wore off, the worse she felt.

"Princess?"

She didn't even have the strength to respond to Criston in some sarcastic way. She already thought she had managed to escape from him or Alicent had finally decided that she didn't need to hear about her every step. Eventually, she leaned back against the wall, pressing her hand to her stomach. Something was wrong.

"Princess, are you okay?" he stopped next to her, frowning.

"Gods..." she said quietly through clenched teeth and with another wave of pain, she slid down to the floor against the wall.

"Call the Maester, now!" he called, but it didn't seem like anyone was nearby. He grabbed Valaerya by the arm and tried to pull her to her feet, but it didn't look like she'd be able to get up anytime soon. He cursed under his breath, crouched down, scooped her in his arms and got up.

~

I don't usually leave notes, but I had "Breakin' Dishes" on my headphones when I wrote Valaerya breaking a vase on Daemon's head, quite ironic, thought I'll share this with you.

-> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

tags: @marihoneywk @watercolorskyy

[samieree]

Silver Princess || House of the Dragon

Daemon Targaryen | Aemond Targaryen | Gwayne Hightower

-> Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV ''Two sides''

Returning from the beach, in the middle of the night, she didn't expect what they found. They were quickly told what had happened. Valaerya didn't look back, she just ran to the main hall. The pleasure she had felt recently was replaced by stress and fear. She was silently grateful that her daughter was sleeping peacefully in her bed and that some maid was always by her side.

"What happened?" she opened the door to the hall herself and asked, even though she had already heard the summary of the story.

Daemon stayed by the door, leaning against it, while Valaerya quickly found herself next to her sister and her children.

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted from his seat, and only then did she see that the guards weren't exaggerating. Even though she was at a distance, she could see his still bloody face and the stitches running through almost the entirety of it.

"He attacked Baela!" Luke shouted back.

"He broke Luke's nose!" Jace added.

They began to throw accusations at each other, who had done what to whom. That Aemond had stolen Laena's dragon, that he had wanted to kill Jace, Alicent had finally added a few words of her own... The king's words did nothing to calm the situation, and the shouting in fact grew louder, until he himself shouted to calm everyone down.

"Silence!" finally everyone fell silent, but the quietness was unbearable. The atmosphere was so thick that a knife would not so much cut her as get stuck in it.

Valaerya didn't know what she should do, if she should interfere at all. She didn't know what had happened, she wasn't there, she had been on the beach with Daemon at the time... She only saw the effect of what had happened. Based on this, it was impossible to tell who had started it, all that could be seen was where it had ended. She would like to take her sister's side, but at the same time she didn't want to deepen the family's division even more. But if she sides with Alicent and her son, her relationship with her sister will suffer.

In that case, it would be best to remain silent.

"He called us bastards." she heard Jace whisper next to her, saying it to Rhaenyra, who was crouching next to him.

Then her sister stood up, holding her sons behind her. She looked as if she wanted to speak up, to talk about what she had just learned.

"Aemond..." Viserys began. At that moment Rhaenyra looked at Valaerya, her gaze questioning whether she should raise the issue.

Again, she did not want to interfere, did not want to make this decision. On the other hand, she knew that her sister had to fight against calling her sons bastards, she had to silence anyone who said so at all costs, so that their future would not be threatened.

Finally, she nodded gently.

"I will find out what really happened. And will do it now." the king continued, approaching Aemond, but Alicent's voice stopped him.

"What is there to discuss? Your son was maimed, her son did it." she said, pointing at Rhaenyra.

"It was an unfortunate accident." Viserys answered her very calmly. Too calmly, taking what had happened.

"An accident?" she repeated after him in a mocking tone. "Prince Lucerys brought a blade and tried to kill my son."

"My sons were attacked and forced to defend themselves." Rhaenyra interrupted, still holding the boys close to her, as if that way she could protect them from everything. "Vile insults were hurled at them."

"What insults?" their father asked, looking at her.

"Their birth was questioned." she explained shortly.

"He called us bastards." Jace added, looking at his mother, but he said it loudly enough for everyone to hear him anyway - especially considering how quiet the room was.

Besides, silence fell again after those words. No one said anything, but their faces said it all. Few people would have the courage to say it out loud, but everyone had seen what Rhaenyra’s sons looked like.

I will fight for my nephews, but how can I do that when I know the truth myself? I have never lied about anything as much as I have about who their father is.

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. To call them that... is the ultimate betrayal. Prince Aemond must be questioned thoroughly so that we know where he heard such slander." Rhaenyra added, stepping forward so that her sons were now standing completely behind her.

Luke reached out with his free hand and took Valaerya's hand, who glanced at him briefly and smiled faintly, wanting to reassure him, to assure him that all would be alright.

"Because of the insult?" Alicent asked, her eyes clearly beginning to fill with tears, whether from nervousness, sadness, or still horror at the state of her child. "My son has lost an eye." she emphasized, as if no one had fully grasped the gravity of the situation.

"Tell me, boy, where did you hear that lie?" Viserys asked Aemond, as if ignoring what Alicent had just said.

"The insult was probably some training yard bluster. It's nothing, many boys-" Alicent tried again to do something, but Viserys ignored her words once more, although this time he glanced her way for a moment before his attention returned to his son.

"Aemond. I asked you a question."

The boy looked at him with the eye he had left, but remained silent.

"I wonder where Ser Laenor is? The boys' father? Perhaps he has something to say in the matter." this time the Queen's words were not ignored.

"Yes, where is Ser Laenor?" Viserys repeated her question.

"I don't know, Your Grace. I couldn't find sleep and went for a walk." Rhaenyra explained.

"He's entertaining his squires, I suppose." Alicent said sarcastically.

The situation, instead of looking better, was looking worse. Valaerya squeezed Luke's hand, sensing how stressed he was.

She wished she could somehow patch it up, but the rift in this family was already too deep - and  was growing deeper. The two sides would have been hard to unite before, and after tonight, it would be impossible.

"Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who told you these lies?" Viserys continued, wanting to get to the truth.

No one had to say it, everyone can see it.

The atmosphere, which had already been so thick you would have problems to cut it with a knife, seemed to thicken even more with the silence that fell. Valaerya squeezed Luke's hand tighter, as if that might actually calm him. She was only glad that her daughter was not here, the maid had long since put her to bed and she was probably still sleeping, blissfully unaware of what was happening downstairs.

As Aemond looked at his mother, Viserys turned and looked at her as well. He seemed about to say something, but then Aemond spoke:

"It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon seemed surprised by this answer, saying the short word to himself.

"And you, boy? Where did you hear such slander?" the king’s attention turned to his eldest son. He didn’t seem eager to answer the question. "Aegon!" he shouted at him. "Tell me the truth!"

"We know, father." he said slowly, as if afraid of the reaction he would encounter, but decided to be honest anyway. "Everyone knows. All you have to do is look at them."

She couldn't deny it in her heart. Everyone knows. Everyone who even briefly glances at Rhaenyra's sons. Their appearance spoke for itself: dark hair, brown eyes. There was no trace of Valyrian blood in them. They were undeniably Rhaenyra's children, but certainly not Ser Laenor's, and that was enough to cause problems.

They were half Targaryens, so she herself should have no problem, they were her family, but they had nothing to do with the Valeryons - and if the family conflict turned violent, the Velaryons could be the strongest ally or enemy. Would they fight for blood that wasn't theirs? Or would they decide to take revenge?

Laenor certainly wouldn't do that, he loves the boys as his own, but Corlys is the Lord.

"This endless internal conflict must end! We are family!" Viserys shouted, looking at each member of his family in turn. "Now apologize and show goodwill to each other. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!" He finally struck the ground with his staff to emphasize his words.

He slowly began to walk away. He was tired of what had happened - and besides, his rest had been interrupted in the middle of the night - and he wanted to go back to his chamber. It seemed that the matter was over, the hall was full of people, but it was quiet again. Valaerya was about to turn around and help her sister lead the boys to their chamber so that the Maester could take a look at their injuries and return them to bed, but it was not over yet.

Alicent was not going to leave it like that. Her son had been hurt too badly for her to just let it go. She knew that neither Rhaenyra nor Valaerya would have let it go if it was their children, but she wasn't even thinking about them that much at the moment. What mattered was her son. How he had lost something as precious as an eye. At such a young age, at that. She was his mother, she might not be able to restore his lost eye, but it would be compensated. That was all that mattered.

"That's not enough. Aemond has been permanently damaged, my king. 'Goodwill' will not help him." she said, breaking the silence. She was trying to force her point, despite the fact that the king had always sided with his daughters he had with long-dead Aemma.

"I know, Alicent, but I can't restore his eye." he stopped on the steps and turned to her.

"No, because it was taken."

"And what do you suggest I do?"

"There is a debt to be paid." there was this horrible quietness once again, although this time there was much more horror in it than before. "In return, I should get her son's eye."

She looked at Lucerys, as if she could lunge at him at any moment and claw out his eye herself. There were gasps of surprise and fear around the hall, and Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around her sons and pulled them closer to her.

"Dear wife-"

"He's your son, Viserys. Your blood." Alicent interrupted.

And Rhaenyra's children aren't? They may not be Velaryons, but they are Targaryens as much as Alicent's children.

She wanted to speak, but she held back. Their father would not allow such madness. She glanced sideways at Otto, who had not said a word in all this time, not even he had taken his daughter's side. Alicent could do nothing on her own, a few more moments and they would all be free to disperse. The tension in the family would remain, but at least they would no longer have to look at each other.

"Do not let your temper dictate your judgment." Viserys stepped closer to her, looking her up and down in a way that clearly showed his contempt for her sick idea.

"If the King does not see that justice is done, then the Queen will." What? "Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Alicent intend to administer 'justice' herself, but calmed down when she heard the second sentence. There was no way Criston would do that, for all the awfulness of his character.

She looked at him and then she noticed that he was looking in her direction - or maybe at Luke? I don't know. I want to go to bed and forget about what terrible things the future might hold.

"Mother?" Luke buried his face in the skirt of Rhaenyra's dress, scared.

"Alicent-"

"He can choose which eye to keep." Alicent cut into her husband's word "The privilege he didn't give my son."

"You will do no such thing." Rhaenyra said sharply, still holding her sons tightly to her. She would never let anyone hurt her children, even if she had to give her own life to save them.

"Stay your hand." Viserys ordered Cole.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent screamed, looking as if she was about to fall into hysterics.

All eyes turned to Criston, who looked momentarily stressed by this—before he quickly regained his composure.

"As your protector, my Queen." he replied calmly, not moving from his spot.

"Alicent, this matter is over. Do you understand?" Viserys emphasized once more. He was irritated by the whole situation, and now especially by Alicent's stubbornness. In his eyes, there was nothing more that could be done, and what his wife was demanding was madness in its purest form. "And let it be clear that anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons, shall have it removed."

"Thank you, father."

For Alicent, it was not the end. A single tear fell from her eyes, which were filled with tears, leaving a wet trail on her cheek. The anger and sense of injustice that was boiling inside her did not allow her to start crying. She had given up too many times, too often had to accept the decisions of others, only to submit again. Especially since her heart was screaming and begging her to do something.

If a father does not want to fight for his children, then a mother will. Always, she will.

She abruptly moved from her spot and approached Viserys, taking the dagger that was always on his belt.

"Alicent!"

"Protect the king!"

The room, apart from the screams, was filled with gasps of surprise and short cries of fear. Rhaenyra had her back to the whole situation, crouching down next to Luke and Jace. Seeing what was happening, how determined Alicent was, Valaerya ran to meet her. She wanted to grab the hand in which Alicent held the dagger with both hands, but it turned out to be impossible when they started pushing each other.

The situation quickly settled down and they stood in one place, because neither woman had the strength to outweigh the other. Everyone present in the room moved away, leaving an empty circle. Somewhere in the background, Cole wanted to intervene despite his commander's order, but Daemon stopped him.

"You've gone too far!" Valaerya hissed, moving her gaze from the blade to Alicent's tearful, desperate eyes.

"Me? I'm the one who feels privileged to everything? Before you know it, she'll hurt you too."

"She's my sister." she replied shortly through clenched teeth. She felt Alicent still pressing hard with her hand with the dagger, which was dangerously close to her face. Close enough that she could see the flames of the fireplace reflected in the shiny Valyrian steel. She could swear that she saw her own eyes reflected in it.

"She's a monster."

No, that wasn't true. She didn't want this horrible to happen. She tried to understand Alicent's despair, but it was getting too much. Anyone else who would have done what she did would have lost their lives long ago for attacking the heir to the throne and the princess. However, the guards didn't seem to be in a hurry to calm the situation down. Were they afraid to react? If they had come up behind her, they would have easily taken the dagger from her.

You are - she wanted to say, but that wouldn't be true either. She saw in Alicent that girl who had been greatly wronged by life, even though she would rather not see it. Life with straightforward views is much easier.

"Give me the dagger, Alicent." she said finally, trying to keep her tone calm.

"Neither duty, nor law, nor common human decency - nothing matters to her." the queen had no intention of giving up, she had already dared to do a lot, so why should she give up now, before she had achieved her goal? "She took my son's eye, what would you do if it was your Visenya?" she asked.

This question hit her, much more than calling her sister a monster. Because it was all too real.

She didn't want to answer it even to herself, but she did it involuntarily - even though she didn't accept it. If it was her child, she would fight just as fiercely, she would do absolutely everything to ensure justice, safety and happiness. There was no such thing as limits when it came to a mother's love for her child.

"Alicent, let her go!" her father's call tore her from her unconscious train of thought.

"It was an accident." this time her voice was uneven, and it trembled, betraying the storm of emotions behind it.

"Would you say the same? Looking at the cut face of your-

"Enough!" it was Rhaenyra. She ran up to them, intending to snatch the dagger from Alicent.

It all happened in the blink of a single flash during the storm. Quick strokes, thrusts, her eyes didn't even have time to register when the very tip of the blade cut through the clothing on Rhaenyra's forearm, making a long gash in the skin, practically all the way to her wrist. What reached her was the sound of the dagger hitting the ground with force after she finally pulled it from Alicent, and it flew somewhere on the floor.

There was a moment of silence, in which not even the air seemed to stir, until blood began to run down Rhaenyra's hand and drip to the ground.

"Send for the Maester!" Valaerya was beside her, taking her healthy hand to steady her as shock gave way to pain.

Rhaenyra's sons quickly found their way to her, even though they could do nothing for their mother at the moment.

"Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I lost an eye, but I gained a dragon." Aemond, who had been silent until now, said it approaching Alicent. He took his mother's hand and snuggled into her side, as if that would calm her after what had just happened, what she had done.

There had been talk of division in the family before, but now it has festered even more, and was all too apparent to those who should not know about the troubles in the House of the Dragon. Daemon quietly moved over to Rhaenyra and Valaerya, standing on the latter's right, followed by Corlys Velaryon. Criston stood behind Alicent.

Valaerya reached behind her with her free hand and discreetly grabbed Daemon's hand. Her gaze was fixed on the dagger that still had not been picked up from the stone floor by anyone.

If it was your child, would you just accept it?

She involuntarily squeezed her husband's hand tighter as thoughts forced themselves upon her of what she would be capable of for those she loved... those she loved more than others...?

~

-> Chapter XV -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

tags: @marihoneywk @watercolorskyy

[samieree]

My photos normally:

My photos when Giovanni:

[samieree]

In Infinity Nikki I turn into a photographer.

You might have seen some of these photos on my tik tok

[samieree]

Scandalous || Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson x OC

-> Chapter II ''Little diva'' -> general masterlist -> Michael Jackson masterlist

Chapter III ''(Not so) beloved manager''

Rosalie washed her face with cold water again, rested her hands on the washbasin and took deep breaths, before finally looking up. She didn't like what she saw, her reflection in the mirror. Red, puffy eyes and also red cheek, that already had some purple and yellow in it. She raised hand to touch the aching spot, but grimaced at the unpleasant feeling and put hand back on the washbasin.

Some of the hair got wet and now was sticking to her face, even more when she dropped her head, not wanting to look at herself.

She heard a soft 'meow' and something pushing into her leg. She didn't have to look down to know who it was.

"I'm okay, little one." she said, swallowing the rest of the tears. "We just argued a bit, nothing extraordinary." she forced a smile while giving a quick glance at her kitten.

Eventually she looked up at herself again, embracing what happened just a few minutes ago, before the door to her apartment closed with a loud noise. He hit her. Just like that, because she said 'no'.

I already said that my relationship with Billy was starting to have its downs, but until that day he never did something like that. Never hit me.Yes, sometimes when I was stressed and mumbling I cannot do something, he would grab my shoulders and shake some sense into me, and then hug me really tight, whispering something about how a wonderful person I am and there are no limits to what I can do, that world may and will belong to me, he will assure it. 'You just have to wipe tears away and do your job'.

But strikes weren't the worst.

Rosalie moved hair away from her face and tied them up in a ponytail. Then washed her face again and dried it with a towel. Moving slowly to the kitchen she got some ice from the freezer, wrapped it in a clean cloth and put it on the hurting spot. Lady was this whole time walking after her, so Rosalie finally picked up a slightly growed kitten up with one hand somehow and sat on the couch, hugging her closely.

* * *

Going to the work on the music video with a bruise on the left cheek absolutely wasn't fun. She knew she shouldn't put any make-up on, just go on set and let make-up artist do it, as filming make-up, stage make-up, all this is different from everyday one. But how could she go out with such a bruise? She didn't have a choice, she had to cover it with foundation.

When already on set, she felt a bit better. After all, she liked her job - well, when people weren't arguing with her - and enjoyed being in the center of attention.

Except paparazzi. I like being on stage, in the studio, on set, but hate with all my heart when microphones and cameras are pushed into my face. Actually, even if I wanted to answer some questions, I wouldn't be able to do it, as there are so many of them and everyone is screaming, so all I can hear is an unreadable noise. And sometimes my heartbeat, when some fan manages to go through the security and grab me.

It is not nice to get a hug, kiss on the cheek or lips or whatever, when you don't want it and have no idea who this person is.

Also mind that I nearly have a heart attack, when I dance and sing on stage and suddenly feel someone grabbing at my leg or running at me. It takes all my strength not to scream and continue with the show. At this moment I'd like to thank all my backup dancers who when something like this happened came to save me from this fan, so I could continue with the performance.

Don't get me wrong - I love you all, because of you I am where I am, and I enjoy talking with you, sometimes hugging and appreciate it so much when you give me gifts, but I like it on my terms. When I organise such meetings or at least you're civil and don't run at me and enter my personal space without my permission.

Of course the lady taking care of Rosalie's make-up wasn't happy when saw her show up with already foundation on, but after complaining a bit worked up with it. It was hard not to grimace, when she was putting the powder into her skin, but somehow she survived it.

At the beginning of the work on the music video set is... She describes it as a lovely mess. Everyone supposedly knows what to do and how the video is to look like, but everything is just not organised perfectly on this first day.

"Rosalie, smile to the camera." she heard some voice while the make-up artist was putting more powder on her face after she put on a dark chemise embroidered with crystals. Over it she still had to put on a dress made out of rather thin material, so crystals glow would look special.

"Oh, you pervert!" she answered jokingly, chuckling as she turned and saw a small camera rolling.

Make-up artist (I think her name was Mary) wasn't happy that before she could finish Rosalie walked away to the man with the camera.

"Just doing behind the scenes material!" he also laughed. "Come on, say something clever. Or you may do a welcoming."

"I think we lack another star and a director. And script - at least I didn’t bring it and can't find any here." she shrugged, crossing arms. "What?" she asked, seeing the man trying not to laugh. "Why are you looking at me like that- A!" she almost jumped, feeling some hands on her sides, and just after that heard a familiar laugh. "I almost got a heart attack."

"You were so oblivious to my presence, I had to." Michael was still laughing, especially seeing her fake angry face and how she rested her hands on her hips.

"I wish I had my fan to hit you." she rolled her eyes, but it was visible she's joking, she couldn't hide the tone of her voice and smile.

"You're supposed to hide your face behind a fan or fan yourself, not hit your poor friend." he stopped chuckling, but his face was still lighting with a beautiful smile. "And you're wrong, we only lack the director and the script."

"You didn't bring it?"

"I was already on the way, I thought you took it."

Another wave of laughter happened, this time Rosalie covering her face, faking a breakdown. She forgot about the aching place and grimaced behind the cover of her hands.

Besides this moment, everytime after I touched my face I went to the mirror to see if the bruise on my cheek was still not visible. And after the whole video was shot, I was looking at the scenes so closely, to check that you absolutely can't see anything wrong about my face.

Fortunately, the swelling had gone down from my cheek by the time the video was shot.

"I have it."

Rosalie shivered lightly, when she heard Billy's voice, before turning to see him, having a wide smile and waving with papers in his hand. She didn't acknowledge that when she heard him she made a small step closer to Michael, as if that way she felt mentally safe.

"So we only lack John." Michael said. "Shouldn't he be the first to come?"

"Or he just didn't come to greet us." she shrugged.

It turned out John really was there before everyone, but first in the other room, talking with some cameraman while eating breakfast, and then busy with extras and backup dancers. Actually, he said he didn't think we would be on time... I'm serious.

As I said, organisation on the first day is the worst, and that's why we didn't do much. But I don't count it as a lost day, we obviously got dinner on set, and I got to sit close to Michael, you could see flashes from this in the sometime later published behind the scenes video. There I was laughing hard and saying almost nothing.You can thank Michael that I sounded like a choking seagull. He was talking first about the pranks he and his sister Janet were doing to each other over the years. Then just some stupid jokes, but I was amused already, so my laughing finally turned into this... Rather ridiculous sound.

Well, when I had another encounter with Billy I wasn't laughing at all and spent the whole night crying, feeling disgusted, pathetic and hopeless.

~

-> Chapter IV ''A kiss''

[samieree]

Dawn of the North || Game of Thrones

Robb Stark x OC

(masterlists in the end) -> Chapter III ''Walder Frey''

Chapter IV ''Dilemmas''

She should be happy they crossed the bridge, that they managed to convince Lord Frey. After all, he was certainly happy about it, it was one step closer to saving his father -  that's why he went to war. But she couldn't be happy. Since the negotiations were successful, Walder Frey must have gotten what he wanted. There was mainly one thing she could think of that he might want: for Robb to marry one of his daughters.

She expected it to end like this. After all, even if it weren't for that, Ryledia was right, she's nobody. Someone like Robb Stark would never marry her. There are certain expectations for him that he must meet, even if he has feelings for her, he will put his duties first.

Maybe Ryledia was right about them leaving as well? Continue on their way, maybe even get on a ship to Essos and start a new life there. Away from the problems of Westeros, where she wouldn't have to hide her hair. What awaits them here? Ryledia has never bothered about marriage, and Amalthea can only count on one of the lesser Lords or a common man. She had the opportunity to talk to many, usually sitting around the fire, and they seemed more interested in her than she would have liked. It wasn't their attention she counted on in this camp, but she remained polite. The important thing is that they weren't too pushy.

She still hadn't heard an apology from Ryledia, so their relationship remained frosty, devoid of more than a few words a day. So she had no one to talk to about her thoughts and feelings, and as a result she came up with more and more possibilities and only felt worse. It didn't help that Robb seemed to be paying more attention to her than before, and she had already established in her head that he was promised to another. She didn't bother to check her suspicions, after all, according to her, it couldn't be otherwise, she had to be right. And she definitely wouldn't be talking to Robb about it.

Because of this, she just didn't know how to treat him approaching her. He doesn't care about his promises? There was honor in him, so something wasn't right. Or maybe he wants to take advantage of the freedom he has left before he gets stuck in a marriage?

Well, if she hadn't accepted her guesses as facts, she would have easily solved the riddle - and then it wouldn't even be a riddle. Even though Catelyn indicated in her conversation with Robb that she did not consider his interest in Amalthea to be love, but only a fleeting feeling, she stood by his side and saved him from a promise that would be difficult for him to keep. His mother also advised him against acting rashly in the emotional sphere, as well as in warfare.

"You shouldn't marry her."

She had told him this shortly after he had admitted to her that he loves Amalthea. What she meant then was not only that the girl did not belong to any significant family and such a marriage could be perceived as an insult by some Lords who had nubile daughters, but also about how quickly this 'feeling' developed.

She asked him a simple question: 'What do you know about her?' and that was enough to confirm her belief that it was just infatuation. Of course, she's not saying that it can't turn into true love one day, but currently, even if they love each other, it only concerns their imagination of each other. It's way too early to make a lifelong commitment, which is what marriage is. Maybe she shouldn't be the one to talk about it, because when she married Ned they practically didn't know each other at all, but this was a different situation. A political marriage she couldn't avoid. They both found themselves in it and they both decided to build their happiness, piece by piece. Not only for themselves, but also for their children. The situation was different here, they didn't have to get married, they had time to get to know each other, to discover if they really fit together.

Late that evening, Amalthea couldn't sleep and eventually she finally got up and lit a candle, thinking that maybe she could at least read if she couldn't find any rest. When she and Ryledia left home, they took a few books with them - okay, that's a bit too much to say. Amalthea took with her a book of poetry in valyrian and a small book about a certain part of the history of Westeros. Probably if it weren't for the fact that most people can't read, they wouldn't have had the latter a long time ago. But she wouldn't get rid of the poetry book. Every time she opened it, she remembered her father who taught her this language. He was the one who gave her the book, he got it from his mother.

Lored - or at least that's how everyone called him after the war - tried to also teach Ryledia  valyrian, but she wasn't willing enough to learn. She learned some phrases, sentence structures and individual words, but she was not fluent in them. On the one hand, she didn't care about it, but on the other, she knitted her eyebrows or rolled her eyes when she saw how good Amalthea was doing. The important thing is that she knew common tongue. And she also picked up a bit of another language from her mother, but in this case too she looked angry when Amalthea was doing better.

Ryledia rolled over and squinted at the candle flame, even though it was faint. She was perfectly aware of Amalthea's condition lately, but she still didn't apologize to her, even though she knew she should. That word had always stuck in her throat, ever since she was a child. She felt like she could count on one hand how many times she had said it in her life - or at least the times she remembered.

She wanted to huff in dissatisfaction and tell Amalthea to blow out the candle, as she had already done the previous few nights, but she sincerely doubted he would listen to her. Several times she pretended not to hear her until Ryledia got up herself and blew out the candle or extinguished it between her fingers, telling her to go to sleep. Sometimes it worked, other times after a few minutes Amalthea lit the candle again. Or they began to quarrel.

"Are you pregnant?" she asked, rolling onto her back. It was a question Amalthea would definitely not ignore.

"Excuse me?" she said it with surprise, but not the kind Ryledia was used to. Usually, Amalthea's surprise was accompanied by a short snort, emphasizing how ridiculous was the thing she had just heard. This time her voice was cold, even, expressing the anger she felt towards her.

And it's all because of one boy... - Ryledia thought to herself, shaking her head.

"You look like even one bad word could make you cry or rage, and besides, you know I've noticed you can't sleep." she explained, trying to adopt the same tone as Amalthea, but she was much better at screaming than with cold stares and a bone-chilling tone of voice. "Are you feeling sick too?" she turned her head to the side to look at her. "Sometimes I feel like you can barely walk."

She didn't take her question entirely seriously, but since she had a lot of time to think, she began to consider this possibility. Unlike Amalthea, she confronted her guesses with a person who could confirm or deny them. Who knows, maybe she'll accidentally guess why her friend hasn't forgotten about their argue yet. After all, the conflict between them should have ended a long time ago, it always has. Why was it different now?

"Have you suddenly started to care?" she muttered, as if avoiding answering the question.

"I'm always worried about you."

Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of soldiers on guard in the camp and horses. Amalthea stared at the candle flame, feeling Ryledia's gaze fixed on her, analyzing every element of her expression.

The only thing she could worry about was not her current condition, but the fact that any day now there would be a battle, Robb's first in this war. She knew he was afraid, of course he wouldn't tell her that directly, but she could see it in him. She wished she could embroider a scarf for him that he could wear on his chest for good luck. It wouldn't make her worry less, but at least he certainly wouldn't forget about her - if he accepted such a gift. Unfortunately, she had neither a scarf to embroider nor anything to embroider with.

"I'm not pregnant." she replied after a long, awkward silence, her voice as firm as before, and cold. She didn't like how she was treated by her friend and she was bad at controlling how she showed it.

"Are you sure about it?"

"Who do you take me for?" she snorted again, reaching into her bag for a book of poetry that was so dear to her and opening it on a random page, looking for the beginning of any poem she came across, just to be able to read and stop paying attention to the person on the other side of the tent.

"A girl in love, and such a girl is easy to get into bed."

She couldn't ignore her after words like that.

"Nothing like that happened!" she raised her voice, closing the book with a bang. "You pay so much attention to me and watch me, and yet you don't know that he didn't even kiss me."

"What a pity." she said sarcastically, as if mocking her feelings, before adding suggestively: "I can't know what goes on in his tent or when he takes you for a ride."

She wanted to shout something back, say something that she might regret later, but at least it would hit her hard. But she didn't, Ryledia liked to have the last word, so be it. She won't speak at all, she will kill her with silence until she comes to her senses and apologizes to her.

She blew out the candle and lay back down, even though she knew she wouldn't find sleep.

"If you don't say anything, there must be something going on."

She also didn't respond to this taunt, even though hurtful words came to the tip of her tongue. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. Guess she would rather her accusations were true than be in the same tent with her right now.

* * *

The camp was unusually quiet as most of the soldiers went into battle. Ryledia seemed unable to bear the tension in the tent, so Amalthea was left alone in it. Not that she would take any benefit from being alone. For a long time she sat and stared into the void, running the fabric of her dress between her fingers, while mentally begging all the Gods she knew to make sure nothing happened to Robb. She wasn't a believer, but in moments like these you do anything to calm your thoughts.

Finally, with a heavy sigh that she seemed to be holding on for far too long, she stood up and walked over to the small mirror. Dark red hair cascaded down her shoulders, but it wasn't her hair, it was her mother's. Naturally, she didn't remember what Umya looked like with short hair, because in the first memories she had, her hair had already grown out a bit. The last time she saw her they were over her hips, just like hers now.

She glanced behind her, made sure no one was looking into the tent, and reached up to her head, carefully removing the wig. She set it aside and then pulled out the pins that held her hair in braids near her head. Then she untangled them. Due to all this, her hair was even wavier than it was naturally. She placed them more or less equally on both of her shoulders.

She had become so used to her appearance with red hair that she felt strange now. She had a fair skin and her amber eyes were also light, so the silver hair matched her delicate beauty, but out of habit something seemed off to Amalthea. Red hair gave her character and sharpness, but her eyes were lost in it.

Will she have to hide her natural hair for the rest of her life to hide her true origins?

Ryledia liked her silver hair, although the last time she told her about it was when they were still at home, yet her feelings had not changed. She wondered if Robb would have noticed her if she didn't wear a wig... Or maybe she loses her charm without it? She isn't beautiful anymore?

But she can't hide them forever... What if he sees them one day? He will surely associate the facts quickly and there will be questions that she will not want to answer. A secret is a secret for a reason. This is how it has to be and that's the end, there's nothing she can do about it. Although... Even if she told him the truth, what would happen? Would he want to kill her just because she belongs to an overthrown dynasty? It was King Robert who hated the Targaryens, why would Robb think the same? Who knows, his father was Robert's friend... What if he wants nothing to do with her? He tells her to leave? How will she deal with it? That along with her eye color, she couldn't have inherited her mother's hair...

Why does she even assume that she and Robb have a future? He will never marry her, even if he wanted to, even if he has been spending as much time with her as he can lately and she has already been asked about it several times by soldiers.

Maybe Ryledia is right and he wants only one thing from me...? No, Robb is not like that! Right? I only want him to come back safe and sound...

She sighed again and began to braid her hair so that she could hide it back under the wig.

Robb returned victorious from the Battle of the Whispering Wood, bringing with him captured Jaime Lannister.

It's just a pity that the day after this victory, Eddard Stark lost his head in King's Landing and reality hit Robb harder than when he called the bannermen, when they went to war, when his first battle began. He did all this to save his father and sisters, so that they could all return to Winterfell, to their old lives.

There were no more dreams of returning to the past. All that was left was pain, anger and fear.

~

-> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XLI ''Winterfell''

Chapter XLII ''A story''

Walking near the main gate - which was open all the time now, people and carts coming in and out - neither Visenya nor Robb saw Varys, Tyrion and Davos standing on the walls, the latter of whom put forward a proposition he had been discussing with Robb some time ago.

"If by some miracle we survive the battle with the Night King, couldn't the Seven Kingdoms be ruled by a just Queen and an honorable King for once in their shitty history? For once, someone who cares about people's well-being?" he suggested.

Tyrion moved closer to the walls so he could look out over them at two people walking along the road leading to the castle, talking about something.

"They make a pretty couple. But I don't think it could work." he quickly added the second sentence, turning and looking at Davos.

Visenya left Daario with the idea that she couldn't sail to Westeros with her lover, that she would have to marry someone to form an alliance, but so far, nothing like that has happened. He had only broached the subject with her once, back in Meereen. He thought she understood his approach, but now... She didn't seem interested in marriage, but it wasn't even about the available candidates, more about what effect it would have.

She didn't want to have a husband because she wanted to prove that she could handle ruling herself. She knew the mentality of the people of Westeros, especially the Lords. Many of them believe that women are not fit to rule, and she wants to meet this and prove them wrong. She probably believed she can't do it if she had a husband, and Tyrion understood that point of view.

Moreover, there was also the matter of characters. Would they really be a good match? He didn't know Robb's character very well, but he knew perfectly well how stubborn Visenya could be. Could they get along?

"Even apart from how this relationship might develop, you overestimate our influence. Neither of them wants to listen to old, lonely people. We can advise, but you should know how difficult it is sometimes to dissuade some ideas." Varys added. He also had doubts about how this relationship would develop, whether it would really have a bright future ahead of it.

"I'm not that old." Tyrion replied. "At least not as old as he is." he pointed his head at Davos, who just smiled ironically. "The Queen respects the wisdom that comes with age."

"Only if she's not sure of herself. Otherwise, she may listen to what we have to say, but she will still do what she thinks is right." Varys noted. "The vast majority of young people do this. Even if they follow the advice, they like to distance themselves so as not to be reminded that nothing lasts forever and they too will be old one day."

The two they were watching and talking about moved on, disappearing from sight.

"I don't remember it ever being so busy here, even when the King came." Robb said.

They talked about everything and nothing. They couldn't seem to find a good topic today.

Or maybe Visenya just wasn't in the mood? She didn't feel good here, but she didn't want to share these thoughts, because it wouldn't change anything in her opinion. Why should she complain to him that no one accepts her here and everyone closely follows her every move as if she were some unpredictable animal? It wouldn't change anything because he can't influence their feelings towards her. She has to give them time and show her good side, but she feels that she will feel like an unwelcome guest for a long time...

Although she tried to feel at ease around Robb, it was impossible when there were so many people around she didn't know and she could feel their eyes on her.

"The market square in the capital was about that crowded. There are always lots of people there."

He didn't push to continue the conversation, especially since he didn't know what to say. Instead of saying anything, he would like to hug her, seeing how uncomfortable she feels. That's the least he could do for her, even though he's not even sure she wouldn't push him away.

So they walked slowly in silence.

"Khalessi, asshekh arraki dorve akka kirde symbaf."  she almost didn't notice when three Dothraki approached her and one of them said this. And it wasn't good news at all.

*"My queen, today only thirty-two goats and twenty sheep."*

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as worry washed over her face. She's never had a problem with dragons not wanting to eat. Usually they even demanded more, and now they left some of what was brought to them. The worst thing is that she didn't know why this was.

"What happened?" Robb asked, standing closer to her.

"Dragons barely eat." she sighed, giving him a short look over her shoulder and walking forward.

"Wait, I'll call for the horse!" when he saw that she neither stopped nor slowed down, he followed her quickly.

"I can go on foot, it's not that far!" she shouted back, this time without even turning around.

Since she was kidnapped by the Dothraki and had to walk for days with almost no rest, in full sun, dirty and torn clothes, disheveled hair and with her hands tied, no walk would be scary for her anymore.

They had to walk for dozen minutes, including a bit uphill, to reach the place where the dragons settled, but the weather was quite bearable. She would never get used to the cold - especially after spending the last few years in Essos - but at least there was no harsh wind and the sun didn't hurt her eyes.

In the place where the four of them lay, there were burnt bones all around and the ground had emerged from under a layer of snow and ice. Viserion raised his head first, but when he saw who had come, he put it back on his paw. Maelia, who was resting hers on Drogon's back, didn't even bother to do so.

"Skoros ziry iksis?" she asked gently, placing her hand on Rhaegal's head. "I don't think they like the North. They grew up in warmer lands." she said, sighing quietly.

*"What's going on?"*

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about the temperature." as he said this, he felt someone's eyes on him - it turned out that Viserion was almost right behind him and was not taking his eyes off him.

Even though she was worried about her children, Visenya couldn't help but giggle at this. It didn't matter that she had brought Robb to them several times before, but they were still cautious, making sure he didn't hurt her.

"They used to sit on my shoulders, then they put their heads in my lap, and now... they're way too big for either." she walked around Rhaegal, who followed her with his eyes as if demanding more attention.

She walked over to Maelia to see how her wound was healing. She climbed half on her and half on Drogon to reach the injured spot. Everything seemed to be healing as it should, even though the arrow had gone deep. From what she observed, it also seemed to her that Maelia was already flying like before. She reached for the wound, but as soon as she touched the spot next to it, the dragon suddenly pulled away, turning the other way and resting her head on her paw, licking the almost healed wound before closing her eyes again.

This unexpected movement caused Visenya to stagger, losing her footing, but fortunately she managed to grab one of the spikes on Drogon's back and steady herself. Although if she was about to fall, Robb, seeing her stagger, ran closer to catch her if she fell.

"How... you don't fall?" he asked, frowning. "Sometimes it's hard to stay on a horse when it's in full gallop, let alone on..." he stopped, raising his hand and pointing at Drogon.

She turned carefully, but Drogon twisted his torso so that she could stand safely on the ground. She was about to go to Robb and explain, but then another idea came to her.

"Check it yourself." she replied and then laughed as she saw him raise his eyebrows in surprise, probably not quite believing his ears. "I'm sure he's big enough to carry even more than two people."

For him, the problem was by no means that the dragon could not carry two people, but rather that this new... experience would be the last of his life.

"You're not afraid, are you?" she asked, knowing full well what triggered such a question, especially in a man.

"No, of course not." he snorted. "But maybe... He doesn't want me to get on him?"

"You don't ask horse for its opinion." she shrugged, still not moving from her spot. She watched him, waiting for his final decision.

She never proposed it to anyone. Besides, she had started flying a dragon not so long ago, so she didn't feel very confident about it. She may have had the opportunity and many more trusted people to take on such a ride, but it was now that she felt she needed it. The amount of work was accompanied by the tension not only of the work itself, but also of being in a new place, among unknown, unfriendly people. This could be the moment when she won't be Visenya Targaryen, the person on whom a million expectations lie, but... Vis.

When was the last time someone addressed her so diminutive? She couldn't remember a single person doing that in the last few years. Perhaps one day Selaria did... I hope she died quickly and painlessly.

Finally, Robb brought himselft to come. In the end, what can happen, at worst he will die. At least he will fulfill every child's dream and, in a sense, fly and see the world from above.

"What should I grab onto?" he asked, standing next to her.

"Whatever you can." she shrugged, and at that exact moment Drogon straightened up, pulling them onto his back. Visenya immediately settled down as usual, looking over her shoulder at her companion. "If you're scared, you can grab onto me."

"Have you done this be-?"

He didn't have a chance to finish because Visenya was already leaning down, catching on the spikes, and Drogon took that as a sign. He crouched on the ground for a moment, only to jump out of it and spread his wings. These sudden movements forced Robb to quickly grab onto something so as not to fall, and it happened to be Visenya - she wasn't going to blame him for that.

The route they had previously covered in dozen minutes now took seconds. The carts - much less the men - below were mere specks, especially as Drogon soared higher, circling the huge castle much as he had when Visenya arrived at Winterfell. The cold wind hitting face and the rest of body was just a minor inconvenience compared to the views and even the feeling of being high above the ground.

With a roar, the dragon flew low over one of the walls, turning almost completely sideways, before straightening and starting to fly higher again. Any conversation would be very difficult with such a strong wind, but Visenya glanced over her shoulder to at least look at Robb and smiled - perhaps a little mischievously, because she knew what Drogon was about to do. Namely, after flying almost to the height of the clouds and gliding for a while - from this height even the castle seemed small, no people were visible at all, only the sun was still the same, but now it was not covered by any clouds - he started to dive down, adjusting his wings to gain even more speed.

Visenya narrowed her eyes but remained smiling, she wasn't even cold anymore. Drogon spread his wings again at the typical height at which he usually flew with his siblings, now soaring freely above the forest.

"Are you still alive?" she looked behind her and almost shouted so that he would definitely hear her.

"Barely." she heard in response, but with a smile that said he liked it.

* * *

The main courtyard of Winterfell was really crowded, as crowded as the main square in the capital, with people passing in different directions, carts coming in and out. It was loud with conversations, horses and the sounds of work. There were also people deeper in the building, in smaller courtyards, but not as many. Children who escaped from their parents were playing there. They were playing tag. The red-haired girl, looking back at her younger friend who was chasing her, suddenly felt as she hit something.

It was Visenya, who happened to be passing by with Ser Arthur.

"Easy." Visenya grabbed the girl's arms to keep her from falling, but she didn't seem to take it the same way. She looked rather scared of who she ran into. "Are you okay?" she smiled, trying to calm her down somehow.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace..." she said, lowering her head and avoiding Visenya's gaze.

"That's nothing." she assured her.

"He won't harm me?" she looked briefly at Arthur, still quite scared.

Other children kept their distance, hid behind columns, barrels and carts, observing the situation from a safe distance.

"Ser Arthur?" she looked at him over her shoulder, then looked back at the girl. "On the contrary. He is a knight, he defends those who cannot defend themselves." she explained, smiling warmly.

Ser Arthur smiled to himself, slightly amused by the whole situation. Seeing Visenya talking to that girl reminded him of all the similar situations in Essos. Once they entered Meereen, the children clung to her, took her by the hands, and led her through the main street of the city, while she smiled and let herself be led. It was one of those moments when she smiled genuinely.

She seemed to be at home. But no, she just forgot for a moment that she didn't have her own home. She did something good for the world and was happy about it, she smiled at the smiles of others, their joy cheered her up, she felt adored, worshipped, loved, idealized. She liked it, she liked being in such a positive center of attention, but that same day, in the evening, she again thought about the future and whether she would finally have a home when she returned to Westeros and took the throne. Will she be truly happy with her life.

"Mother told me not to talk to you. Your Grace..." the girl added the second sentence hastily, looking away again.

Visenya crouched down next to her, removing her hands from her shoulders.

"Why? Am I so terrible?" she asked, grimacing and frowning as if she felt sad.

"No, you're beautiful!" she quickly denied, looking at her. "My Queen." she added again after a while.

"I'm Visenya. And what's your name?"

"Anya."

"Anya." she repeated, smiling sincerely. "Your mother is a wise woman to advise you not to talk to strangers. But I'm here to help you. All these people who came with me are here for the same purpose." she explained.

"Will you also fight against evil lords?"

Visenya chuckled at the description of the undead army as 'evil overlords'. At least this way they didn't seem so scary.

"Yes." she confirmed.

"I wish I could protect my parents and friends too..." Anya admitted, then looked down at her hands, where she was fidgeting with her fingers nervously. "But I am neither a knight nor a queen."

"You don't have to be a knight or a queen to fight for what you care about." Visenya cupped the girl's chin and lifted it to make her look at her. Anya had green eyes that held as much fear as determination in that moment. It reminded her of herself, of her entire childhood and the past before her path to the top, which she didn't want to remember. She hesitated for a moment, but finally said what was on the tip of her tongue. "Let me tell you a story. To all of you, if you want to listen." she added the second sentence, looking to the sides. She realized that Anya's friends were hiding from her, but maybe she could convince them to come out. "I assure you, neither your parents nor any septa will even mention this story to you."

She got up and walked to a nearby bench, where she brushed the snow off and sat down on it. Anya wasn't as scared as she was when she ran into Visenya, so she followed her to the bench. Vis reached up, grabbed her under the arms, and sat her on her lap. Then another child decided to emerge from his hiding place and come out. As the young queen began to speak, more came out until eventually they all showed up.

"I once heard a story about a girl who was born during a terrible war. Her father was long dead, and her mother didn't enjoy her newborn child for long. The girl was left alone..." she stopped for a moment as her thoughts wandered to the nightmare she experienced on Dragonstone, but she quickly shook it off. "She had no wealth, no lands, no army, just a name that didn't mean much anymore. She was raised by people who treated her badly, but the girl continued to live. She finally grew up. She managed to escape from the bad people. After what she survived, she decided that she would not let anyone in the world experience what she had experienced."

"But she didn't have an army or gold to buy it with." said one of the boys.

"At first she really had nothing. But I heard that a few years later, this woman who once had no wealth, no lands, no army, acquired it all in the span of a few years. And even more... Dragons. Four, each a different color, all soaring high in the sky enjoying a freedom she herself never had. She also saved thousands of people during these few years."

"But how did she do it?!" asked some girl.

"That's right, you said she had nothing, and then suddenly she had everything!" added another.

"Not suddenly, it took her several years. Everything step by step." she explained. "She succeeded because she had a lot of determination, persistence, a bit of intelligence and friends who supported her." she added, smiling, and she couldn't help but think about what had happened over the last few years.

If someone had ever told her that her life would turn out this way, that she would end up in this place, with this position... She would never have believed him. She was sure that she would be unhappy for the rest of her life, that tragedy ran through her veins along with blood. Now she hoped that when the war is over, she will be able to find happiness.

"Is this a story about you?" Anya asked.

"About me? No, I said I heard this story somewhere." she smiled, giving the girl a gentle flick on the nose before she took her off her lap and set her down on the ground. "You can be whoever you want, achieve everything you dream of - never let yourself be told otherwise." she got up from the bench. "Alright, it seems that I interrupted your fun..." she wanted to go her way with Arthur, but a voice stopped her, asking:

"Don't you have a moment to play with us?"

She couldn't refuse. She didn't even realize that she was being watched from above this whole time.

As she continued walking in the direction she had been heading in the first place, she almost bumped into another person along the way. This time it wasn't any child, but Jon, who looked unnerved. Seeing her made him feel scared? She couldn't read this reaction, but decided not to give it any further thought.

She finally reached the library with Arthur. She took her steps slowly, looking around at the shelves where scrolls and books lay. At some point, she noticed someone sitting behind one of the shelves, clearly reading - he didn't notice that she had entered.

"Excuse me?" she said gently, clasping her hands in front of her.

Despite her gentle tone, the man suddenly rose from his chair after he raised his head to see who had come, almost knocking it over.

"Your Grace."

"I didn't mean to scare you." she replied with a bemused smile. "Do you work here...?"

"N-no, no. I was looking for something." he explained, shaking his head to clear himself of the surprise.

"Have you come across anything in Valyrian?" she asked another question, walking between the shelves and looking through the books herself.

"You know Valyrian, Your Grace?"

"Varys' little birds didn't chirp about this?" she replied before she could think that these were inappropriate words, especially since she didn't know this man. "Sorry." she corrected herself quickly. "I learned this language from books when I was still a child. I was wondering if maybe I could find something rather light to read in the evening. It is said that it's the only language suitable for poetry."

"I didn't come across anything, but there's probably something here. And even if not in Valyrian, then in common tongue."

She nodded. She would prefer this foreign language not because it is actually the only one that shows the true beauty of poetry, but reading in Valyrian would remind her of the recent past. In a sense, she would move back to Essos once the situation in the Dragon's Bay was under control and she had no worries there.

"What's your name?" she asked, taking out one of the books and opening it, looking at what it was about.

"Samwell Tarly, Your Grace."

She froze for a moment with the book in her hand, feeling a lump form in her throat, which she quickly swallowed. How big was the chance that I would come across the son of the man I had beheaded as an example?

"Tarly? You are far from home." she said quickly, shaking herself and trying to adopt a neutral tone. She flipped through a few pages, now only pretending to read something, before putting the book back.

"We all are, aren't we?" he replied, smiling at her slightly, rather uncomfortably.

Or did he sense that something was up, or that her presence was causing him embarrassment, or maybe stress? She would prefer the latter.

"Yes." she moved away from the shelf, taking a few slow steps back to the center of the room. She looked at Ser Arthur silently asking whether she should tell Samwell what had happened to his father. He nodded discreetly. She would definitely prefer to leave immediately, but cleared her throat and said: "I met your father."

"Yes-?"

"After the battle. He was one of the survivors." she interrupted him before he could assume that this 'meeting' took place under friendly circumstances. Say it quickly and get over with it. You can't change the fact that you killed his father. It's war. Hizdahr's father also died partly because of you, and he didn't hated you for it. At least not openly... "I gave them a choice. He remained true to his word to Cersei Lannister." she tried to put it delicately, but she felt like she had failed. How can you break the news to someone about the death of someone in their family and be delicate? All she could think of was that she could smooth it over with some other information. "Your brother was there too. He was taken captive, along with all the others who would not bend the knee. I brought everyone with me from Dragonstone here, so... He's probably somewhere in the camp. It's quite big, but I'm sure if you ask the right people they'll be able to help you find him."

"Thank you, Your Grace... for telling me about it." Sam tried not to cry in front of her, but tears were gathering in his eyes. His father always treated him badly, but they were still a family. It's hard to accept that he's gone now... "At least my brother won't throw me out of home like my father did." at least that much, at least he was spared. With these words he tried to relax the atmosphere, which quickly became tense, even though it was the woman standing in front of him who caused it.

"If your brother bends the knee to me, I will allow him to take over the titles and lands that belonged to your father." she put much strength to not look down at the floor.

"If I may..." he already started to leave, but asked her for permission.

"Of course." she replied quickly.

As soon as Sam left, she let out a deep breath that got stuck in her throat right after she told him the truth. Sure she knew that the people she killed in battles had families who would mourn them, but she hadn't had to face them until now. Besides, this is war. If she felt so sorry for every person, she would never have reached the position she is in now. Although, on the other hand, it was her gentle heart that won people's favor for her. It was thanks to it and understanding people's suffering that she was motivated to help them.

"Someone must have told him this." she heard Arthur behind her and at the same time felt his hand on her shoulder.

No one felt sorry for her when she was a child without parents. She's better than all these people, but that doesn't mean she has to feel sorry for everyone.

She smiled softly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before removing it from her shoulder - but not letting go - and turning to him.

"Do you remember if my father ever had a Valyrian steel dagger?" she asked to quickly change the subject.

If she had only seen the weapon once, she might not have even asked him about it, but that night she dreamed about it again. She knew there was something written on it, in Valyrian, this dagger must have been in her family for generations. She already knows that her dreams come true, so this one must have some meaning too. Perhaps this weapon is here somewhere?

Better looking at thousands of people to see if they happened to have the dagger she was looking for, than thinking about the bad news she had to deliver - and the moral dilemmas that came with it. As if she didn't already have enough other things on her mind.

~

-> Chapter XLIII ''Ice and fire'' [+18] -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XL ''Discussions''

Chapter XLI ''Winterfell''

The last few weeks hadn't been easy for her, not only because of spending them on the road, but also because of the feeling of rejection. She didn't quite understand why, after all, she was surrounded by a lot of people, she had people to talk to. Even with the person who most likely made her feel this way, she exchanged at least a few sentences every day. However, it was a friendly relationship and it didn't seem to be changing.

The stopover in Harrenhal wasn't long, as everyone managed to get along quite well. She kept her word. She could already see the destination on the horizon, she didn't even have to look above the Unsullied marching in front of her in a row, because she was sitting on the back of a horse. It was the first time she had been this far north and she was silently grateful for the warm, fur clothes. The coat didn't differ much from what she had been wearing every day for the past months. The style wasn't anything new, nor was the color - it was black, with red fur in the places where it was embossed, and that was the only color accent. The hair was different. It was exceptionally high, pinned up in a bun of several braids, and only one strand on each side of the face was left loose. On the other hand, nothing covered the silver chain that - as was often the case - ran diagonally across her chest. The decoration in her hair was equally unchanging, and it would probably match with the rings, if not for the fact that the gloves covered her hands anyway.

She looked to the side without turning her head and cast a rather cold glance at Robb, who wasn't even looking at her at the moment. However, many people who had gathered along the road passing through the village were giving her very intense looks. She felt judged by them in every possible way, although she hadn't said a single word to them. They had only seen her in passing, but she knew that they would talk about her among themselves - and not necessarily in a positive way - if they weren't already.

She moved her gaze to the building on the horizon, trying not to worry about the glances, although it wasn't easy. It reminded her of the moment when she entered King's Landing,  similar feelings accompanied her then. Even though she hadn't come here as a conqueror.

She couldn't focus on the castle, which she had long wanted to see and compare with the great buildings she had already had the opportunity to see: the Red Keep, Dragonstone, Harrenhal and the Pyramids in Meereen. Involuntarily, she began to look at people again, her gaze shifting between them all the time.

"I warned you that northerners don't much trust outsiders."

She turned her head and looked at Robb, who seemed to want to comfort her after the hostile stares she was receiving. It didn't help much, although it was nice that he hadn't forgotten that she was riding on his left. She tried not to think about the fact that they had barely spoken today. He was probably glad that he was finally going home. She hadn't let him come back whenever he wanted, despite her insisting that he wasn't her prisoner.

He could have disobeyed her. Once they had left Dragonstone, he and ser Davos could have taken horses and left, no one to watch them, they didn't need their ship back. But he stayed. Partly because it looked better that they were coming together, riding side by side.

Despite the fact that he himself felt judged that once again there was a strange woman at his side.

"Especially when there are rumors about this strange woman having horns and a tail." she replied jokingly, trying to distract her thoughts from the unpleasant reaction of those around her. She looked over at him just in time to see him giggling.

"It is said I turn into a wolf at night and eat the entrails of my enemies." he quoted one of the things he had heard about himself during the war, to respond in the same spirit.

She smiled at this absurd rumor. She felt a little more confident, so despite feeling rejected earlier, she wanted to tease him about this turning into a wolf at night. Funny, for most of her life she was not in the mood for jokes, and it was not surprising considering what this life was like. Daario liked to joke with her, it was with him that she picked up on his good mood and sometimes teased and joked with him.

But she didn't say anything, because a loud roar echoed in the air, followed by more. She raised her head and the smile on her face widened when she saw her children in the sky. Most people panicked, running to their homes. Fear paralyzed several people in place, some of them looked away, crouched on the ground, others simply couldn't tear their eyes away from the beasts.

Visenya, on the other hand, felt a surge of confidence at the sight of them. She lifted her chin, holding her head high. The screams didn't seem to bother her. The dragons flew over them and towards the castle, familiarizing themselves with the new area. She saw them circling the walls, the same as they had done when she had finally came to Dragonstone.

"There must be more rumors we haven't heard. Maybe there's someone who believes that you turn into a wolf at night, and I turn into a dragon, and together we terrorize the people?" she finally replied, but it sounded like a rumor Cersei would really spread among the people.

He laughed, and she laughed back.

In Winterfell, Sansa stood on the walls and saw the approaching armies, stretching so far away that she couldn't see where they ended. She also saw the dragons flying towards the castle. The first one was green, followed by snowy white, and behind them the other two flew more or less side by side. When the first one flew too low above her head for her taste, the rush of air blew her hair and the snow that was on the walls flew straight into her face. She squinted, wincing. She wiped her face with her hand and turned around, watching as the beasts began to fly around the building. Then she took one more look at the approaching people and went down the walls, to the courtyard, which was close to the gate.

She stood there with others, including Jon, Bran and the current Maester of the castle.

'She's a Targaryen, of course she's an enemy.'  - she told Robb when she argued with him that he shouldn't answer the invitation to Dragonstone. She was still not convinced about the Dragon Queen.

She watched as she rode in on a snow-white horse, her head held high. It was the first time she had seen her, even though they had both been in the capital at the same time for some time.

Visenya Targaryen, the last of her line and as you can see with very high ambitions. She looked like a Queen, at least because of her clothes. She didn't want to fit in, she didn't even try. Her fur coat distinguished her, even though it was black, it was still striking, especially in contrast to her pale skin and silver hair. From this distance she wouldn't be able to tell the color of her eyes, if not for the fact that they were light purple. Another thing that made her different.

You shouldn't judge people by their looks alone, but she didn't come across as nice. Her clothes and the way she carried herself were enough to give that impression. She didn't even have her hands clasped in front of her, but rather had them hanging loosely at her sides - another sign of her self-confidence, if not arrogance.

She didn't take her eyes off her even when she greeted Robb.

And Visenya? Visenya focused on why she was here and who she was to endure all the stares aimed at her. These weren't just people who simply lived nearby. She hadn't even had time to say anything yet, and she already felt treated like an enemy by some of the Lords.

What do I have to do to make them like me?

"Did I cross the line with the fur?" she whispered to ser Arthur standing behind her.

For a brief moment she felt like a little girl, not a strong Queen who had come a long way to be where she was, and she wanted to hide behind his back. A few seconds later she just wanted to take a step back, to feel that he was close to her. But she didn't do any of those things. She couldn't break her image, they were ready to consider her weak.

Let them stare as much as they wanted, she would endure even if they pointed at her and said her name loudly when they talked to each other. She's been through worse, like being kidnapped by the Dothraki. She's Visenya, of the great House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria, a dragon, and dragons aren't afraid of just any stare.

She came here to save people's lives and she will do that.

"You should wear that white one, you would be even more visible." if it weren't for the fact that she wanted to maintain her appearance, she would have elbowed him in the side.

"Everyone is already looking at me." she mumbled, running her eyes over the faces of everyone staring at her. "And white is not a Targaryen color." she added.

"But recently you've liked wearing it again." he noticed, for which she wanted to elbow him playfully again. Yes, she had also ordered a white cloak made, very similar to the one she was wearing now, but she decided not to wear it today. "You are not bound to two colors just because they are in your coat of arms."

She turned and looked at him, immediately rolling her eyes and returning to her serious posture.

Finally, it was time to introduce her and she felt stressed, but she pushed that feeling aside. They may not trust her, but Robb already does. They will change their minds about her too, if she gives them time and shows them she means well.

"This is Queen Visenya Targaryen. She agreed to help fight the Night King." Robb introduced her when she came closer. "This is my sister, Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell." he felt like he was a child and fell in love with some girl and had to introduce her to his parents. He knew what his sister's attitude was towards Visenya, but he didn't know anything about the other girl's thoughts.

He told her about his family several times, she seemed to like hearing about it (and it was a good impression. Since she didn't know her family at all, only from stories, she liked listening to his stories and memories from childhood. She imagined that she had experienced such a childhood herself), so he shared many memories. Especially when they were sitting in the tent at night, and it was raining outside, the atmosphere was conducive to returning to this happy stories.

Despite the fact that Visenya didn't have many happy memories from her childhood, she was more open about it when Robb talked about himself. She felt that she should give something too. She had had a few happy memories with Selaria, the servant who largely replaced her mother. She always told her bedtime stories, she remembered it very well, especially one story that was really the story of Selaria herself, but it was only later that she understood it. About a simple girl who lost almost everything, but made a promise to her friend and intended to keep it, no matter how difficult life would be.

"We didn't have the pleasure of meeting when we were both in the capital." Visenya said politely, not having an idea of ​​what could be a better thing to say.

"I doubt it would have been a pleasure then." Sansa replied, looking at her interlocutor. "That's the past. Now everything has changed, the pleasure is on my side, Your Grace."

"I am grateful for welcoming us all into your home. I have wanted to see Winterfell since I was a child, it is beautiful." only after saying this did she realize that her sincere words could be considered false courtesy, but it was too late to take them back, so she smiled gently and hoped that it would be fine.

"It is large, but not everyone will fit here." she replied, thinking back to the huge number of people she had seen from the walls. "But we will try to ensure that even those camping outside the walls have adequate comfort." she added, which Visenya in turn took as a snipe, as if she demanded luxury.

"I am not here for comforts, but to help in a matter that concerns us all." she explained, immediately then passing her gaze also to the others gathered, whom she could look at at the moment looking to the side, as if emphasizing her words.

* * *

No matter what Visenya herself had to say, Sansa remained distrustful, of course because of past unpleasant experiences. In the evening, when the issue of managing the space and the free chambers had been resolved, there was a moment of peace, after a tense meeting.

Sansa went to talk to her older brother, who had finally returned home. She was glad that, contrary to her pessimistic predictions, he was safe and sound, but she had mixed feelings about the person he had brought under their roof.

She knew that the troops Visenya had brought with her were a great help, but she was not sure what her motives were. Cersei had been nice to her, Petyr Baelish had been nice, many other people had smiled at her and then stabbed her in the back, used her for their own purposes. She had no reason to think that she was any different. At least not yet. And - unfortunately - because of her experiences, it was hard for her to give a stranger a chance.

Even though they had already hugged in the courtyard, the first thing she did when she entered was to go up to him and hug him. Briefly, but enough for him to hug back, even though he was about to start changing and go to sleep after the last day of the long journey.

"Did you bend the knee?" was the first thing she asked as soon as she pulled away. It didn't matter that even before he came to greet them in the courtyard, she had seen him exchange a few more words with Visenya and nothing seemed to make him treat her as more important than himself. She had to hear it from him, and she still didn't know if she would believe him.

"No." He answered truthfully, suppressing the reflex of wincing at the fact that she had only come to ask that.

"Am I supposed to believe that she simply... believed you and came here out of the goodness of her heart?" she asked another question.

"That's right. Why is it so hard for you-"

"Because people aren't good. Especially unselfishly." she stated.

She hadn't met anyone in recent years who was simply good to her. There was always some ulterior motive. She had been naive once, but now she trusted no one but her family. She knew that sometimes you needed others to survive, but just as others had used her, she could use them. She certainly didn't want to be a stupid girl who could be easily manipulated again.

"So you think I'm evil? And Jon too? Bran, Arya? Yourself?" he asked. "There are good people, Sansa, and Visenya is one of them. Besides, it's in her best interest to fight, because the Night King's cause affects everyone."

'All of us who sailed with her from Essos believe in her. She's not our Queen because she's the daughter of a prince from some dynasty we've never even heard of. She's our Queen because we chose her to be one' Missandei had said once, when they were still on Dragonstone. Back then, he'd been rather skeptical about it.

And then he saw for himself that this woman was not the monster, the ruthless conqueror she had seemed when they first met. That was just her appearance, but in reality she had a gentle heart. She didn't have to give him dragonglass. When he had first refused to bend the knee she could have used force, killed him, but she had accepted it - at least for now. She could have destroyed the capital along with every Lannister soldier, Cersei and everyone else in the city, ending the war in a few hours. Cersei in her place would have done that, Tywin and many others in their cruelty perhaps would too. From what he had seen, he was able to believe that the good stories about her exploits in Slaver's Bay were also very true.

That was why he believed in her good motives. Others may still be wary, but he hoped that as they got to know her better they would change their minds, just as he had changed his. She was a good woman and she will be a good Queen.

"That's different, we're family. But even so, I won't trust a stranger just because you think she has pure intentions. You have to understand that. I won't feel safe tonight under my own roof that we fought so hard to get back." she explained calmly.

He wanted to see it from her perspective, how she might feel not knowing Visenya, but at the same time he wanted to convince her that he was right and that she should trust him.

"Were you looking out from the walls when we came? The soldiers from the rest of Westeros and those she brought from across the sea, they're all here, they've come to fight for our home. Along with supplies and more wagons full of dragonglass. You know how many people we could send to fight ourselves and it would be a drop in the ocean of needs. Only with her we stand a chance."

"I did. I saw four dragons too, one flew right over my head."

"At least try to be nice to her." Is he asking for so much? For her to give her a chance like he did, is that too much?

"Why are you defending her so much?" she asked, and then something else came to her mind that she hadn't considered before. "You... Have you fallen in love with her?" she asked uncertainly, lowering her voice a little, as if she was afraid that she would offend him with this question.

At these words he felt an unpleasant shiver run through his body and a coldness spread through him, even though his heart sped up.

No, of course not. What kind of question is that? - was the first thing he wanted to say, but he didn't. Although it was an obvious answer, right? He had already experienced the love of his life. The woman he gave his heart to is dead and what they had will never come back.

Sam, in response to his question about whether it was possible to fall in love a second time, answered him that why not. He then asked him if it wouldn't be a betrayal.

The loved one is already dead, but if there is some kind of life after death, shouldn't you wait patiently until you are together again? On the other hand, you can't say that something like this will happen. And what if it doesn't? And even then, you don't get to choose who you love.

He can no longer say what love is. He thought of the silver necklace he always carries with him. That was another thing that was hard to explain.

"No." he finally answered, after a slightly too long silence that suggested hesitation in itself.

Again: She didn't believe him.

Even Robb didn't believe himself.

~

-> Chapter XLII ''A story'' -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[samieree]

HERE I AM 💃💃💃

WHERE THE FUCK IS THE GOD OF WAR FANDOM⁉️⁉️⁉️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️⁉️⁉️‼️⁉️ REBLOG TO REVIVE THE GOD OF WAR FANDOM‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[samieree]

Scandalous || Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson x OC

-> Chapter I ''Beginning'' -> general masterlist -> Michael Jackson masterlist

Chapter II ''Little diva''

In her twenty-one years of life she already had done many nervous things and was beginning to deal with one of the worse things in her life, but that day she felt more stressed than ever. And it was just because she had a special guest.

"Lady, get down." Rosalie said to her kitten.

A ball of fluff was little, but already had its harsh character. If she wants to do something, she will do it. No matter what. And if she wanted to get on the coffee table in the living room and push something off it, she would. Rosalie quickly picked her up in one hand and her tea cup with the other, and walked to the kitchen.

"Be nice, I have a special guest today." she said, as if white kitten could understand her. She adopted her short after her photoshoot for some fashion magazine that wanted her to promote their new collection. She posed with this little kitten and decided to take her. She named her 'Lady' and now they lived together, wherever Rosalie goes, Lady goes with her.

Once she had put away her cup, she held the kitten with both her hands, giving her a bunch of kisses. Why did she even call her 'Lady'? Well, at first because she was so well-behaved despite flashes and noise. But after she took her home, this name became more sarcastic. Lady loved attention and was ready to throw things from shelves or use her claws to get it when wanted.

Back to the situation, everything had to be perfect. She cleaned even after a cleaner went out, to be sure everything was perfect. She already was a few times at Michael's place, but today he was coming over to her, and she felt her stomach being a knot because of it.

She heard a soft meow from her fluffy friend and held her higher in front of herself.

"What?" she frowned, but then Lady meowed again and Rosalie looked over her shoulder, to see 'Bad' vinyl standing proudly on the chest of drawers. "Shit...!" she muttered under her breath, put Lady down and quickly went to take away the album.

I remember throwing it under my bed and begging that Lady won't pull from under there and my bedroom. Luckily, Lady wasn't big enough to jump to the handle and open the doors back then, so none of these could happen.

Not too long after she had hidden the album and checked her make-up and clothes in the mirror, Michael was there.

It's not like I was stressed because I didn't know what to say or do. Quite the opposite, we already talked pretty much since the grammys. Even spent some nights on the phone, when I was barely awake, but he couldn't sleep, so I forced myself to not leave him. And beside all that - you really can talk about basically everything with him. I was nervous, because I wanted to look perfect. At that time things between me and Billy were getting... for now let's say: hard. I stopped caring much about my appearance while I was with him, but Michael? Staying at home I put make-up on, that says everything.

Only to later on hear from him, that he prefers me without all this.

The first thing that greeted him beside Rosalie, was Lady, that was looking curiously at the new face. Well, a bit new, as she saw the album covers before Rosalie pushed them under her bed... She looked up with her big, blue eyes, listening to the conversation between the two humans. But its biggest interest was Michael's fedora, which he was currently holding in his hand, as he hugged Rosalie with the other.

"How was your day?" Rosalie asked first. Usually it was Michael who asked such a question at the start of a conversation. For him these words were a positive surprise, for her: a small victory that she was finally faster.

"Good, nothing new." He left his fedora on the coffee table and walked after Rosalie to the kitchen, even if she insisted that he can sit on the couch and wait for her to bring the tea - you can't work without good tea. Good tea or orange juice, when it comes to Michael. But I didn't know it yet back then.

As both of them disappeared in the kitchen, Lady jumped on the couch in the second try and was preparing to make her way on the table.

"I can do it." Michael said, while opening the shelf and reaching for a cup.

Rosalie patted his hand away playfully. He was her guest, not the other way around. She even pushed him away with her hip as she was reaching for the cups, which made him chuckle.

"No, you better sit down and let me do it." she glanced at him briefly and saw his little pout.

Whole Michael. A gentleman, eager to do things for you. You could be treated like a guest in your own home. But even out of that he was polite, opening doors and letting me first through it, pulling out a chair, giving me his jacket if I was cold, holding my hand - sometimes giving its back a kiss.

About kisses, I never asked, but I think he likes kissing my hands and forehead the most. Personally, I love the latter the most. Nothing makes me feel safe and loved more than a good hug and kiss on the forehead. Somehow it happens to be more personal to me than a lip kiss, even french one.

Or maybe it's more about hugs than kisses. When he first hugged me in a friendly gesture, I just gave in and didn't think about anything, but was sad when he let go. And the second time... Okay, I'll admit it, I smelled him. And I never forgot the smell of his cologne. But in my defense I will add that at the same time, he discreetly nuzzled his nose in my hair and smelled it. Michael never told me that, but before our next time seeing each other, I changed my shampoo and after we hugged shortly he asked "You changed your shampoo?" before giving it a second thought. Seeing him hiding his blush I just chuckled and waved it off with a simple "Emergency situation" and got back to using my previous shampoo, as I heard a slightly sad undertone in his words.

"You don't know how much sugar I like in my tea." Michael said, crossing arms on his chest. When she turned around to look at him again, she met his brown eyes again. She mocked his pout from a moment ago and approached to push him out of the kitchen.

"Then let's assume I don't have sugar and the problem is solved." Funny thing - she remembers him actually not adding any sugar to his tea (if he happened to drink it instead of orange juice).

Michael chuckled again, especially at her motivation to get him out of the room.

There was this strange thing, sometimes he would make her shy easily, and other times not. It was all about his attitude at the moment. If they were alone, he usually was bolder to initiate and keep eye contact, joke around and smile widely. If other people were around, he wouldn't like to make it obvious he keeps his eyes on her. Yes, he would still smile, joke, and do all the other small gestures, but much more carefully.

What's funnier, Rosalie didn't realise he was often flirting with her. She thought he was just nice. Nothing more nothing less. He was nice with his fans, with his friends, with people around him, so he was also nice with her.

She successfully got him out of the kitchen, but when the tea was ready. But she managed to make him accept that she will take both their cups.

"You like to bake?" he asked. Reason for this question was apple pie that was on the kitchen counter. He didn't eat sugar, but liked apples. And if she baked that, maybe he'd take just a little piece to try.

"Sometimes." She answered, putting cups on the coffee table while looking over her shoulder at Michael. Actually, she baked with the thought of him coming over. She didn't really know what he likes, so she did something she thought would be rather universal. She was about to propose him a piece, but then looked at the table and fedora.

Michael looked in the same direction and they both saw Lady laying comfortably in the hat and probably sleeping. She was perfectly visible as her fur was white and fedora black. When they went silent they even heard her soft purring through sleep.

Rosalie didn't know what to do or say. She would take her away, but she was sleeping... But what if Michael didn't like that? After all it was his hat that Lady chose to be her bed right now.

"It's alright." he said quickly, seeing Rosalie getting embarrassed. "What's its name?"

"Lady."

"She's so cute." he sat on the couch and gently moved his hand through Lady's fur.

It didn't make Rosalie any less embarrassed, but what could she do? At least Michael didn't mind a cat sleeping in his fedora - and probably leaving its fur there. Even when they were working, from time to time they glanced at the kitten, especially when it was making a sound by changing its position. After some time Lady woke up and found out it's harder to get out of the hat than getting in was. She let out a soft meow, demanding help. Rosalie quickly got up and took her out with the intention of taking her to her bedroom and closing the doors so she won't embarrass her again.

"Can I hold her?" and if not this question, she would do as she thought.

"Of course, if you're not afraid of getting fur on yourself." she gently gave Michael Lady and he put her on his lap, smiling at the little cat and then petted it tenderly.

"You didn't say you have a cat."

"You didn't ask." she shrugged, smiling at how they seemed to like each other. Luckily, because her little diva was rather rude when she didn't like someone. Billy stopped liking Lady after she pissed on his shoes. But Billy was different, she herself was liking him less and less, but somehow standing him as her manager. "For real, I adopted her not so long ago, that's probably why. Be kind, little one." she leaned and also petted the cat on Michael's lap. Almost immediately it shifted and showed its belly, purring happily when receiving tender pets there.

You could think this 'little diva' - as we sometimes call her - was indeed really nice and just greedy for pets. Well... No.

When the time came for Michael to leave, Lady was looking up from the floor, keeping her little tail up. She watched as this nice man that was giving her so much attention today puts his fedora on and hugs Rosalie for a goodbye. She didn't want the nice man her owner called 'Michael' to leave already. She would like some more attention from both humans. And especially the hat. He dared to take away her new bed.

She meowed, but not loud enough to be heard. So she made her way to the couple, extended her claws and placed her paw on Michael's trouser leg, pulling it. That maybe wasn't heard, but surely felt by Michael and he looked down to see the kitten trying to climb up his pants - in the process, destroying them a bit with its claws.

"Lady!" Rosalie scolded the little cat.

I wanted ground to swallow me at that moment. Only if I knew that's not the last piece of Michael's clothing she would destroy.

"You little tease." he chuckled and crouched to separate Lady from his pants. Then he stood up again, holding her in front of him. "They say cats are like their owners." he said playfully, even a bit flirtatiously, but Rosalie was too bemused to hear the latter.

"Sorry. Really, sorry. She can be rude sometimes."

"She just couldn't let go, like some fans." seeing her embarrassment - like with the hat situation - he wanted to turn it all into a joke. After all it's just pants, it's not a big deal, he has much more clothes and always can buy new ones. "It's okay, really. Don't worry." he smiled and kissed her temple to reassure her that indeed everything is alright.

"Then I better take her away before she digs her claws in your hands, not just clothes." she took the kitten that looked up at both of them innocently. "Troublemaker." Rosalie felt a bit better after Michael's reassurance and said this word to the cat in a playful tone, wrinkling her nose and then giving Lady a kiss.

"Maybe she felt left out." he leaned a bit to give Lady one final pet before leaving. "Bye little diva. Bye big diva." he directed these last words to Rosalie, winking at her.

After the doors closed, she sighed deeply and looked at the kitty in her hands, shaking her head.

"Cats are like their owners, huh?" Lady answered her with a meow, rubbing her owner's hand with her head. "You like him, don't you?" she sighed again, but this time in a different tone, thinking about Michael. "Well, me too. Who doesn't?" ~

-> Chapter III ''(Not so) beloved manager''

[samieree]

Peace, Wound, Scar. Again. || SW: The Acolyte

Qimir (The Stranger) x OC

-> Previous chapter

Chapter X ''Other half''

"Lys..." in her current state, this diminutive falling from Sol's lips only made her angrier.

She felt no control over herself at that moment, but she wasn't afraid of what she would be capable of. She didn't think about the possible consequences, about what might happen if she didn't withdraw, to let her emotions vent in solitude. She actually wanted this confrontation, to learn the truth, even though she wasn't in the right state to hear it.

"Don't call me that." she replied, not taking her eyes off him and not moving from her place for now. "Why? Why lie to me?" even though she knew that she wasn't the only one being lied to, at that moment only she mattered, only what they did to her, how they hurt her, what they hid from her, how they destroyed her life.

"Without Mae, there was no proof that-"

"So you lived a dozen years without any remorse, even though in your mind, without Mae, all the other deaths were in vain." she let out something like hysterical laughter. She didn't even let him finish. You could say that it contradicted her desire to find out the truth - but exactly, she wanted the truth, not excuses.

"I..." he paused, looking at her and wondering if he should tell her everything now. But there was no turning back now, he had no choice, he had to confess everything they knew. "If Mae was dead... it would all be for nothing."

"And why isn't it?"

"Your and Osha's mother..." he began, turning to look at Mae, to whom he was speaking now. "...created you by using the Force. I don't know how, but I believe the vergence on this planet has something to do with it. You're not even sisters, but one person, split in two. Do you have any idea what kind of power it is: creating life? In the entire history of the galaxy, only a few people have ever possessed it."

"What does that have to do with me?" Lys asked, drawing Sol's attention to herself. She took a few steps forward so she could watch him from a closer distance, so she wouldn't miss any emotion in his eyes, any tiny expression on his face - nothing that might have the slightest significance.

"I think... We think" she knew who else was hiding behind that 'we' - Vernestra... "that the three of you are somehow connected. You were born on the same day. Lys... No one is born with a scar." he took a step towards her, but she didn't move away. She looked a bit like a wounded animal that still tries to defend its territory, that will fight even though it will probably lose. "I believe it's some kind of a sign. And ever since I saw how well you got along with Osha from the first moment, as if you'd known each other forever, I also believe that the Force connected you. All three of you. You form a dyad in the Force, something that happens once in tens of generations! It's a power that-"

She couldn't listen to him any longer. In her mind, everything now appeared only in black colors. What he told her was to her unambiguous that the Jedi wanted to possess this 'power that happens once in tens of generations'. This is what they wanted from the very beginning. They weren't saving her from anything, they weren't protecting her, because she was valuable as a person, but as a tool. Something they could use for their own gain. They would throw her away as soon as she became useless to them.

Just looking at him made her angry and disgusted. She hated his selfishness, but also his self-righteousness. He really thought they had done the right thing, that it all made sense.

She had to know one more thing. One more thing that probably didn't matter to him, but to her it was important enough to pierce her thoughts even in this state.

"Did anyone else know?" she interrupted him. Her hand involuntarily tightened around the hilt of her saber. She didn't even realize that she hadn't just interrupted him, but had taken his breath away for a moment. "He knew...?" she whispered. She didn't have to say a name for Sol to know she was referring to Yord.

"Yes. But-" this time she didn't cut him off, or at least not in the way you'd expect.

It was like the last thread holding her - questionably, but still - together. Her friend of almost all time, whose death she had been so distraught over, whose death she had wanted to avenge, was ultimately not worthy of her trust. He had lied to her. Just like everyone else. What she didn't know was when Yord had learned part of the truth about Lys' past. And that had been when he had been sitting with Sol in the cockpit of the ship, on the way to the mission to Khofar.

Did it matter when everything she had kept inside up until that moment had to come out? No.

Her knuckles were white from the force with which she began to grip the hilt of her saber. Only her hand with the weapon was shaking, the rest of her body seemed to freeze. Her green eyes were fixed on Sol's, expressing all the pain she was going through. She hadn't even realized she was strangling him until he first grabbed his neck and then fell to his knees.

If it was possible, she tightened her grip on her saber even more, imagining that it wasn't the hilt but his neck. She was already fully aware that she was strangling him, slowly killing him, and she pushed on, tightening her grip even more. It felt like her hatred was pouring into the weapon she was gripping so tightly that she could crush it in her hands in just a little while.

"Lys... It's okay..." Sol choked out.

During this entire time, she didn't break their eye contact for a single moment. She didn't even blink, as if she didn't want to miss a single moment. She saw a single tear running down his cheek. His gaze, as it changed, reconciled with what was waiting for him, as if it were a punishment for his transgressions. But at the same time, there was pain in his eyes that it was Lys killing him. The girl he had known since she was a little child, for whom he had always tried to be there when she needed him, just like for Osha. Now she wasn't that little girl, but his executioner. He had raised his murderer.

Suddenly, everything ended. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest when she heard the crunch of a broken neck. Sol's body hit the ground, and then Lys let out a breath she hadn't known since when she held. She felt pain in her hand from gripping her sword inhumanly tightly, and she immediately loosened her grip.

However, she didn't look around her, neither at Mae nor Qimir. Her gaze was fixed on the empty gaze of the man she had just killed. She had never done this before, had never taken a life. She had watched others die, mourned them, cursed the murderer, but she had never been one herself.

Until now.

She killed one of the people she had known the longest, who had once been important to her.

She hated him, hated him for what he and Vernestra had done to her parents, for not telling her anything, for ruining her life, but she felt a pang in her heart when she realized that he was truly dead. She had killed him.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but they wouldn't come out. All the hatred, pain, and sadness that she had finally let out left her tired. Her legs felt like jelly and she fell to her knees, shifting her gaze to the ground in front of her. At the same time she couldn't and wanted to look at Sol's body. At the same time she was disgusted with herself and was downright pleased with what she had done. I am a monster. This was justice.

The tears blurred her vision, but she could hear clearly. She could hear Mae's heavy breathing nearby, but also Qimir's slow footsteps, getting closer and closer to her. She felt his fingertips lightly touch her arm, in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. It didn't do anything like that to her. It had the opposite effect of what he intended.

"Don't touch me!" she rose with a cry, activating one part of her lightsaber and blindly swinging it at him.

He smoothly moved away from her, to a safe distance. She was looking at his face, not at the weapon in her hand, but then she saw the red glow on his face, not the expected blue. Her gaze only then went to the blade, which was no longer the same color as before.

Understanding practically overpowered her. Her hand holding the saber fell, dropping the hilt from her hand.

There was no turning back from this place. She knew she was in great pain, but she didn't think she had enough hatred in her to affect the kyber crystals in her lightsaber. She knew that all the anger she felt was being released into the tightening grip on Sol's neck, but her tightening grip on the hilt, imagining it was his throat? How deep must her pain have been to do such a thing?

She looked at the palm of her hand, where all the elements of the saber were imprinted.

When she regained control of her body, she crouched down and raised her sword with trembling hands.

"We have to go." she felt a hand on her shoulder, it was Mae. Only then did she look around and see that Qimir had disappeared. "Let's go."

She wanted to deny it. Say she couldn't, that she was a murderer, that she had to face the consequences. But at their hands? The Jedi were supposed to be justice? She couldn't count on anything like that from them. They started it, they ruined her life, it was because of them that she was so conflicted now.

"I know a way out." Mae added.

Lys nodded and attached her lightsaber to the belt.

They stood up. Mae started running in a specific direction, and Lys followed right behind her. They ran through several corridors until they reached a place where there was a destroyed bridge and a deep hole, the bottom of which could not be seen. They had to go down there. It turned out that Mae had once fallen here sixteen years ago, had been pulled into some tunnel in the wall. They went down to it and, bending slightly the whole time, went through it, leaving the complex.

"And where now?" Elyssa asked, when they had already left the tunnel and were in the forest.

Mae didn't answer, just led her to the Bunta tree, which Lys had heard about from Osha. The leaves of this tree could be made into poison, but that didn't take away from its beauty. Admiring something was the last thing Lys wanted to do right now, but being right up against the trunk, with all the hanging leaves hiding you -poorly, but still - was a faint but certain sense of safety.

"If it weren't for them... None of our tragedies would have happened. We would live peacefully, with our families, everything would be so much better..." she didn't know for sure, but she said it anyway. At that moment, she was convinced that if her life had taken a different course, she would have been happy.

"Osha didn't want the same life like me." Mae replied, approaching Lys and placing her hands on her shoulders. "She wouldn't be happy."

"And now she is? Either of us is?" she felt tears gathering in her eyes again, but this time she saw the same in Mae's eyes and finally broke. "The Jedi will definitely use her to get to us. I should have noticed much earlier that something was wrong... If I could turn back time-"

"But you can't. I've begged for the same thing many times. At nights, instead of sleeping, I thought about what I could have done differently, what would have happened then, how much better it would have been. And what? None of it came and won't come. And shaping the future, as you can see, didn't work out too well for me either."

"I would never have known they were lying to me if something had turned out differently." she also rested her hands on Mae's shoulders, wanting to show her the same support she had shown her. "Do you think he was telling the truth? About your mother and Osha... And that we were creating some-"  she suddenly stopped, feeling Sol's sword, which had been hanging on her belt the whole time, suddenly being ripped off of it.

They turned around and saw Qimir, who had previously left them without a word. Besides, he was now wearing his mask as well.

"If I can find you, so can the Jedi." he said, lowering the hand he had used to catch the sword that he had been pulled with the Force. There was a moment of silence, he was clearly waiting for them to decide what to do next.

"Maybe they won't even try to arrest us, but kill us right away... What can we do?" Lys quickly wiped her tears, but they were still flowing, so she finally gave up. She looked at Mae as if she was expecting a decision from her.

But she knew that her attempts to decide for her sister had ended tragically. She couldn't make choices for others, at least that's what she had learned from this whole horrible story. If you love someone, let them go if they want to. You can't make them happy with something just because you like it. You can discuss, but never force anything.

"And what do you want to do?" that's why she asked this question, holding back tears herself and wiping away those that had already flowed.

Elyssa looked from her to Qimir. They didn't have much time for the Jedi to find them here. What did she want? Or what could she possibly want now? Peace. To be better. To learn more about herself, about her parents. Maybe she still had some family out there?

There was also the issue of what she could realistically achieve. Peace didn't seem to be an option. But there was one more thing. Two people she still cared about in this galaxy.

"I said I won't let you kill Mae." Besides, I know I'm not able to fight you now - but she didn't say that, turning to Qimir. "If I agree to train with you, will you let her go?"

"If they catch me, they'll use me to get to you. They won't let me be, no matter where I hide." Mae noted.

Well, yes, Osha had cut herself off from the Force, it would be hard to use her for that. Besides, that was why Lys could only guess where she was, and Mae's presence next to her was as clear to her as her own thoughts. She knew almost nothing about the bond that connected them, which Sol had called a 'dyad', but there was definitely something between them. And in the current situation, it was not an advantage.

"I can attempt to wipe your memory." Qimir said. "Remove all traces of me and Lys. Permanently."

Permanently. That single word echoed in her head and sounded like a sentence. She would forget about her forever. If their paths ever crossed again, she would have no idea that they had met before, and even that they had such a short time, she would not remember how much they had in common. Something inexplicable and so strong that she felt as if she had a sister.

"Do it." Mae said it without hesitation, but inside, she was truly terrified. What will happen to her? What will they do to her? How much will she remember? On the other hand, it was the only solution they could find at the moment. "Quickly." she added, swallowing all her uncertainties.

"What?" Lys turned around abruptly, looking at her with horror for a moment, but after a moment it disappeared. She had to let her make this decision. She would live. And maybe, just maybe, there would be some hope that her memories would return someday, if they were allowed to meet again. Silently, she nodded and went to her to hug her. She needed it more than oxygen at that moment, to feel someone's arms around her, creating the illusion of safety. And she could cling to someone like a lifeline. "This is not a goodbye. We will see each other again someday. And I will do everything to find a way to restore your memory."

"I know." she smiled weakly, returning the hug. "Don't cry." she added in a whisper. "They won't kill me. They will take me to the Temple, I will be with Osha. I will still remember what happened here, I will be able to tell her everything, she will know the truth. And I will finally make peace with her. We will manage. You too."

"Thank you." she replied, also in a whisper. "But if you remember anything... Then tell her that she is like a sister to me, both of you."

"You will tell her yourself soon."

They smiled weakly at each other one last time, slowly pulling away. Neither of them could hide their tears anymore, they wouldn't even be able to. Lys turned to Qimir, who had witnessed the whole scene. She held out her hand, expecting him to shake it, thus sealing their agreement.

However, he raised his hand, still holding Sol's saber in it, the blade facing him, and it was through the hilt that they shook hands. He also held his thumb over hers for a moment, stroking it lightly.

She looked at the lightsaber. It would be very easy for her to turn it on now and kill him. Maybe he wouldn't even have time to react in time. They could take his ship and escape. She hadn't expected him to trust her with his life, and that was exactly what he had shown now. Or maybe he simply wanted to prove that he wasn't her enemy. In any case, it was another of those gestures she hadn't expected him to make.

Mae, standing two steps behind her, nodded that she was ready. She didn't want to drag this out any longer. When she forget, none of this will hurt her anymore.

Qimir gently grabbed Lys by the arm with his free hand and pulled her to stand next to him.

"Don't turn around."

That hurt her more than it should have. Mae won't even remember her face. She wanted to turn around so badly and had to concentrate hard on staying where she was, even after the light grip on her arm disappeared.

A few moments seemed like an eternity until she felt a hand on her back, urging her to move forward.

* * *

Back on the unfamiliar island, she stood in a place that would soon be covered by the tide again. She watched the waves, unable to stop thinking that she knew how her mother felt when the water flooded her lungs, when the surface was further and further away. But she probably wasn't trying to save herself, she wanted to die. Maybe she was just waving her hands in panic, because her body didn't want to die - unlike her soul, which had lost everything.

She still thought that peace was unattainable for her, but now that everything had happened, when the threat was far away, she felt lighter. She no longer held anything back, all the emotions she had held in for so long, all the time adding new ones, finally found an outlet, although absolutely not in the way she wanted them to.

But she couldn't take anything back. She had snapped Sol's neck. She had bled the crystals of her lightsaber. Mae had her memory erased. The Jedi had probably taken her to the Temple, just like they had taken Osha. She couldn't feel her. Everything had already happened. And she was here now and had agreed to train - although this time it would probably be with better results than under Vernestra's 'watchful' eye.

She didn't really feel like she had sacrificed herself. She wanted to be better, to learn, to improve her skills. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to do it with him. But was there anyone better? Hadn't she already come to the conclusion that he wasn't so bad after all?

She would like to know his story, what exactly happened to him. Perhaps they are more similar than she expected?

In the end, he was right, everything she held inside her finally exploded.

'I understand how you feel. I lost everything, Lys.'

'You speak as if you were a Jedi yourself.' 'I was, but a long time ago.'

'Anger. Fear. Loss. Desire.'

In the meantime, she noticed that Qimir had approached and stood next to her, but she did not return her gaze to him.

Perhaps he really understood her. There was still a flicker somewhere in the back of her mind that he might only want to use her and that was why he did not kill her. But would he really give her so much control then? She knew about the existence of manipulation by giving the illusion of choice, but he really always gave her a choice. And he always turned the weapon on himself. She had trusted so many unworthy people in her life, would it really make any difference if she made the same mistake now? If it was a mistake at all?

She had already trusted him making the deal. At least he seemed honest enough to demand Mae fulfill the deal, he wanted to kill her because she betrayed him.

Everything has gotten so damn complicated...

But now she stands and looks at the water, which surprisingly slowly begins to calm her down. Maybe she thinks too much and should just trust her instincts. She's seen for herself how powerful emotions really are and she can't keep them bottled up, so maybe it's time to trust herself? Ironically, he told me that too.

"Is that what you meant by the power of two? This... dyad in the Force?" she asked, speaking to him for the first time since they left Brendok.

"I don't know much more than you assume I do."

"Then find out." she looked at him for a moment. She had kept her arms crossed over her chest the whole time, until she finally sighed deeply and let them fall freely to her sides. "I want to know where I come from. Who they were, did they have any family besides each other?" she didn't have to say specifically who she was talking about for him to know she was talking about her parents.

She felt her eyes filling with tears again. They were probably red and swollen from all the crying she had done. Her nose had barely had time to unclog itself, and it was hard to breathe through it again. She needed to rest. She needed to rest so badly and feel completely safe.

"You'll find out." he assured her. She could feel how close he was standing to her, but she didn't risk another look.

Silence hung between them. He had nothing else to say. He waited to see if she wanted to share anything with him. Tell him exactly what she had seen when she put on the mask, or if she needed a little more time.

He would wait.

"I feel..." she began, but stopped. She wanted to control her voice, but after a moment she decided it didn't matter. Qimir watched her in her worst condition, what difference would it make whether her voice shook or not? "I feel like I killed half of myself..." she finally confessed.

She meant many things. Mae losing memory. Killing Sol, who had become like family to her over the years. Osha, who she hadn't taken to the ship on Khofar. They hadn't saved anyone, and they'd lost even more. Hatred that was so strong that her lightsaber was now red.

She wasn't the same Elyssa she had been before, and she never will be. Will this new version be better? That remains to be seen, but for now it still hurts like hell.

"Then let me become your other half." she hadn't expected to hear those words, which was obvious from the expression on her face.

She felt a touch on the back of her hand. She could push him away once again, or let him reach her, open up to him with all its pros and cons. They were alone, there was no one else within reach she could trust and let support her.

She slowly turned her hand and didn't just squeeze his, but intertwined her fingers with his, which he returned immediately. She squeezed his hand tightly, as if he really was the last person who cared about her in this vast galaxy. It was certain that she was very important to him. Is he just as important to her?

It doesn't matter what is in the past, because they go into the future together.

~

-> general masterlist -> Star Wars masterlist

Tags: @linkpk88

[samieree]

Scandalous || Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson x OC

-> Prologue -> general masterlist -> Michael Jackson masterlist

Chapter I ''Beginning''

It is said young people make stupid decisions. Bullshit, everyone does stupid things sometimes, no matter the age. At every age you may trust the wrong people, but what is the worst - only with time you realise they weren't trustworthy, when you can't do anything besides acceptance and going forward.

I also put my trust in the wrong people, but the one I regret the most is Billy Caswell, my first manager.

But back to the topic...

It was 1988, grammys awards. Rosalie wore a blue dress that resembled waves. With time, it became one of the favourite dresses she ever wore. Even without the accessories, like white gloves (matching with sea ​​foam), jewelry, and the stole she had that night, it still makes an impression.

I still have it. Later in the career in one of the music videos, I run and sit in the sea wearing it.

She took home two statuettes that night, but she would put more attention to it, if she didn't sit next to Michael.

Usually, Rosalie didn't buy any magazines that were telling lies about her, but she made an exception when she saw a headline: 'You need to kneel for that, Mr Jackson!' a few days after the MTV Video Music Awards. That day she went shopping and it wasn't the best idea to get this magazine then, as the paparazzi spotted her and took photos of her carrying it before she managed to put it in the bag. She didn't understand why, but they treated it as confirmation that something was up and there is some truth to the stories they made up.

Of course, later on in the interview, she told how it truly was, but some didn't believe her words. She was so embarrassed later on that when she heard from her friend that Michael also had a question about her, she didn't even wanna hear what he said.

And now she was sitting next to him.

There was no romance, not even a friendship or any relationship between us those days. Also, it was the first time when rumours started spinning out of my control - I felt like the more I denied, the more they thought I lie. Or the press just needed to grab onto something when there was no better story, so they used us. One thing is certain: I got even more popular. As if going out wasn't hard enough already.

Oh, but people still confused my name with 'Rosaline'. One last time: It's 'Rosalie', not 'Rosaline'.

She thought it was just a coincidence that they sat next to each other. She was aware of her manager's ideas, of them doing an album - yes, not 'just a song', but the whole album - together, but didn't put much thought into it. She was aware of her popularity, but he... It was something else. No one could match his fame. She was sure there was no way he would agree to it.

But she let Billy have his dreams. He was with her since the beginning of her career, and they built it together. What she didn't know was that it was his fault that they sat next to each other on grammys.

Early in 1988 her relationship with her manager was having its downs, as she wanted to move on, do more songs with more serious lyrics, and he was in favor of her continuing to write just catchy lyrics, accompanied by a music video showing her attractiveness. 'It sells well,' he said, 'It's better to have fifty-fifty on an album than just sad tones with one no.1'.

Oh, how much she argued with him! 'It's possible to write about serious matters in light words, with a catchy rhythm people will be humming to themself'. In her notebook, she had a few songs she would like to do, but Billy told her producers won't do it, as she is not known for this type of music.

It was a hard thing to swallow, but she finally did it. Not because she thought he was right, things started to take different courses, with her starting to be more scared than fond of him. But no matter how much she wanted to get rid of him at that moment, she felt like she couldn't. She believed in his words of him being able to destroy her as quickly as he raised her to the big star.

One big mistake of my young, stupid self.

Michael was glancing at her from time to time and at the shiny pin in her bun - as he always liked shining things. But let's not pretend, he was also stealing glances at her face, despite just its profile being visible to him. Her eyes were blue like the dress she wore. He wasn't sure about this working together thing, as he didn't know how she was in private. Getting into doing records with a nasty person wasn't exactly what he would like.

They didn't even properly talk. He remembered he found her lost ring, but it wasn't exactly a conversation, yet it made him remember her. Well, it would be hard not to, after how the media interpreted the whole situation.

But there was also an argument for. A very simple one, one he was a bit embarrassed about, but was influencing his mind anyway: Rosalie was pretty. He'd like to be around and get to know her. Yes, yes, he saw her in her music videos, but it's never the same as seeing someone live.

She looked to the side, thinking he's not looking to her side at that moment and she could have a quick glance, but her eyes met his. He smiled at her, showing his white teeth, and she already felt herself blushing.

I can't explain why I was blushing so much the first few times we saw each other, and he smiled. I guess it's just his charm. Even with years passing, I still found myself getting red on the cheeks with no bigger reason than a simple smile. Well, at least I'm not the only one who reacted like that at this man's smile.

"I heard we may be spending much time together in the following months." she felt like smiling even before he said those words, but now she had a full, sweet smile on.

Heart beating faster was impossible to miss and even thought she knew he couldn't hear it with all the sounds around, she found herself begging in her mind he didn't hear it. It's not every day you sit next to Michael Jackson and speak about working together. It's influencing you even more when you're a fan yourself and are inspired by him.

God, I really was a fangirl in those first meetings, wasn't I? I asked him once if he had realised it and how pathetic I had looked - he said: 'No, no. You're never pathetic, baby, just original'. He tried to be sassy and not offend me at the same time. You know what? I taped a note with the word 'original' written in red to his once favourite jacket. But if I knew he was going to get a jacket with this word embroidered (a forever reminder for me), I would never do that. I thanked God no one knew the story behind this, otherwise I'd feel even more pathetic. But now I look at it and laugh to myself, so I might as well share it with you. Especially as it's supposed to be our full story...

"I heard so, too." she answered, resting hands on her crossed legs so she won't be playing with them nervously.

As she looked away for a moment at the stage to calm herself, Michael used this moment to look at her from head to toe. This was also the time, when he felt himself getting slightly nervous and looking for the right words in his head so he wouldn't mess up anything.

"And?" as he didn't come up with anything better, he put it on her to continue this conversation.

"And?" she repeated after him, hoping he'll say something more, but no. Rosalie sighed to herself in mind and quickly said something, so silence between them won't be too long. "I'd be glad to work with you, Mr Jackson."

What a safe thing to say. Simple and polite. Even calling him 'Mr Jackson', which she didn't bother herself with the first time they spoke shortly in September. But calling him just 'Michael' didn't seem right to her either, they were strangers, not friends. But soon... Who knows?

"And I'd be glad to work with such a lady like you, Rosalie Madeline Velcare." Michael answered in the same manner - even overly formal - which added a playful tone to this short conversation.

That was the moment, when their collaboration unofficially began. After arranging all the formalities, Michael invited her to his place for the first time so that they could start working.

Besides my parents I think he is the only one to never mistake my name.

~

-> Chapter II ''Little diva''

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XXXIX ''Decoying and confessions''

Chapter XL ''Discussions''

In the evening, Visenya was sitting in the king's chambers, but despite the late hour, she had not yet untangled her hair or changed into her nightgown. She was sitting at the table, with her legs thrown over it (she had not even known that her uncle Oberyn had such a manner) and was playing with the clasp, running it between her fingers.

She was waiting for Tyrion, whom she had asked to come over to her to discuss 'something important'. That was exactly how she put it.

A small letter she had received from Christer Renel was lying open on the table near her feet. She had finally read it and it was this important matter she wanted to ask Tyrion about. And in the meantime, distracting her thoughts from making all the important decisions, she played with the clasp and thought about its owner, not even realizing that a gentle smile had appeared on her face.

She remembered how only a few hours ago they had been holding hands and she dreamed of him raising them to his lips and placing a kiss on her skin. She could have sworn he had intended to do so, but for some reason unknown to her he had decided against it. And then he had addressed her so formally...

Maybe she was reading his signals wrong? Or maybe they weren't there at all? Could she have just imagined all this? No, she certainly wouldn't be able to confuse it with simple courtesy. She wondered what he thought about all this, but wouldn't go ask him, that would be stupid...

She was going to consider it further, but at that moment the door to her chamber opened. She looked at Tyrion, not changing her posture. She only discreetly put the clasp in her pocket.

"You wanted to see me, Your Grace?" he said, closing the door behind him.

She watched without surprise as he reached for the wine before coming to sit down next to her. He, on the other hand, hadn't expected to find her sitting like this. He clearly didn't know her as well as he thought. Just like back then, after the decisive victory over the Lannister forces, when he thought she would want to behead both Randyl and his son, and he wanted to dissuade her. And she surprised him positively, because it turned out that she didn't even intend to do that.

"Yes." she replied shortly, leaning out to reach for the letter lying on the table. She handed it to him and waited for him to read it.

"Where did you get this?" Tyrion asked. He immediately deciphered the initials, Petyr Baelish. Was he in the capital? Where did she get this letter from, when?

"It doesn't matter." she replied dispassionately, taking the letter from him and playing with it instead of her clasp. "Do you know who it's from?"

"Petyr Baelish." he had no doubts about it. He wasn't happy that she was asking only questions, and didn't want to answer any of his. Nevertheless, he decided to try again, with a different question. "When did you get it?"

She didn't want to talk about it. She simply didn't consider it important. She didn't know that Tyrion was worried that Baelish had decided not to withdraw from the game of thrones yet. For Visenya, it wasn't a reason to worry, after all, she had received the letter from someone she owed a lot to. Despite the strange impression that had remained with her after her conversation with Christer, she didn't consider it a threat. Her opinion changed only slightly after she learned the identity of the sender of the message. When she had been at court years ago, she hadn't had much contact with political games.

Tyrion, on the other hand, decided he would have to tell this Varys.

"It doesn't matter." she repeated her previous answer, which only made him angrier.

"If everything doesn't matter, then why did you ask me to come?" yes, he didn't like her attitude.

He was just as aware as Visenya that the war wasn't over yet, but he didn't see why she would act like that. It seemed to him that she had been under much greater pressure many times and was coping just fine. She looked... Tired and bored. She sat and played with a piece of paper, not giving her conversationalist more than a single glance.

She had asked him to talk, which meant she knew that this was a serious situation and was seeking his advice, but at the same time her thoughts were occupied by something else that was winning her attention.

"Should I go to this meeting?" she asked, this time looking at him.

And yes, Tyrion was right, something (someone) else was occupying her thoughts and causing what he interpreted as boredom, when in reality Visenya was worried. I'm definitely imagining too much.

"Absolutely not." he replied immediately. "Baelish is one of the most dangerous men in Westeros. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. Even if he offers to help you, it's only in something that will benefit him more than you."

"I am dangerous too."

"That's not the point. You're in power, you don't have to talk to him, what can he give you? There's no point in risking it." he didn't like how Visenya seemed to be dismissive of the threat. Did she feel too confident? Why expose herself unnecessarily? "Cersei escaped, which means she must be planning - or already planned - how to kill you. This must be a trap."

Tyrion kept thinking about how to make her safer, while the Queen acted as if she was immortal. She went to the Dragonpit as if nothing bad could happen to her in the city just because Cersei wasn't here. What if she and her army were somewhere nearby? He didn't assume that his brother had lied to them, but that he simply might not know about all of their sister's plans - especially since he had clearly distanced himself from her.

All it takes is one well-aimed arrow, a knife, a spear, anything. It's so easy to lose your life, and Visenya was constantly exposing herself. Many people had already tried to kill her, but instead of being more careful, she seemed to have gotten used to it. The argument that as Queen she couldn't be afraid to risk it for her people as they risk for her didn't appeal to him at all.

If she dies, who will lead them? She is the last of her line, fighting not only for the future of people and a better world, but also for the good name of her family, for it to be associated with something more than the Mad King. If she dies, everything will be lost. And she does not want to understand that.

Or maybe she is already so under pressure that she denies it herself, to feel better.

"You said that Baelish only cares about himself. What could he gain from a deal with Cersei? If he is still alive, he must be intelligent enough to choose the side he supports properly." she noted.

Personally, she did not think that she was putting herself in danger. Yes, she was afraid for her life, but at any moment someone could burst into the room, attack her on the street, or try to poison her food. If she worried about that and considered every possibility, she would go crazy.

The letter was given to her by the person who helped her, there was no reason for her to want to hurt her now. She thought she should at least listen to Baelish before making a decision. He could be indifferent to her, or he could become her ally or enemy. She would rather avoid the latter.

"He supports only himself."

"I remind you that Varys ordered my and my aunt's murder. And yet I did not call for his head when you appeared in Meereen, although it would have been fully justified." her tone sharpened as she remembered Daenerys' death.

She still had moments when she questioned her choice to let Varys live. He had helped her, but he had also done her much harm. If it had not been for her aunt's death, she would not be who she is now. What if it had been better? If she had remained Princess Visenya, and not become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and all those other titles? She certainly would not be so lonely, she would still have a family member by her side...

She has no one left, no matter how many times she dwells on it, it will not bring anyone back to life. But it is hard to accept reality sometimes.

"Varys stands with the people, Baelish would burn the world if it made him king of the ashes. You don't make deals with madmen." Tyrion pointed out, also taking on a harsher tone. He understood her attitude towards Spider, but here she had to look at the bigger picture than just her personal quarrels. He was glad she had done so earlier, by sparing his life, but it would have been nice if that view had stuck with her a little longer.

"If you call every man with great ambitions a madman, then I'm surprised you're even speaking with me."

After her words, he felt attacked, but he didn't show it. He didn't think he deserved such treatment from her, but he tried to explain it to himself by her nervousness. She remembered her unpleasant past, and he was still questioning her views. It was true that it was his task as the Hand, but he had to reckon with the fact that his words could provoke such a reaction.

"Morbid ambition is madness." he replied calmly, deflecting her accusation.

He would never call her mad, she was one of the best people he knew, he admired her. Very young, yet intelligent at the same time. Only sometimes - like everyone else - she had to be proverbially poured with a bucket of cold water and confronted with reality. That was the advisors' task - often very unpleasant, but a task nonetheless. It was good to serve her anyway, she didn't consider herself infallible. Yes, she could be stubborn, but it was possible to reason with her, something that was impossible with Joffrey.

"Is that another of your wisdoms?" she muttered. She wanted to get up from the table and turn her back on him, but she overcame the temptation.

"That's a fact."

After these words, there was silence between them. Neither of them said a word, they just looked at each other for a moment, until they both looked away. Visenya started playing with the letter again, and Tyrion with his goblet of wine.

She will do what she thinks is right anyway - he thought to himself. He could hope that his words reached her, but in the end, it was her decision that was final, he would not force her to do anything.

Tyrion was rather known for not liking silence, so he searched his mind for something to say to lighten the atmosphere. Finally, he remembered something he had planned to tell her anyway, so he might as well do it now.

"I wanted to thank you." she immediately looked at him, clearly surprised. "For sparing Jaime's life." he clarified, raising his goblet as if for a toast.

A shadow of a smile passed over Visenya's face, but it was quickly replaced by a slight sadness.

"I have no reason to hate him..." she sighed, reaching for Tyrion's goblet to take a sip of wine from it, then handed it back. "...But at the same time, I can't return his affection, not in the way he would want me to."

The topic of unhappy love came back to her like a boomerang, she would rather get angry at Tyrion and argue with him.

Their conversation turned to lighter topics, they even joked a bit, but it didn't help her for long. When it got very late and she was finally alone, it was time to rest.

She started by taking the ornament out of her hair and taking off her rings. She placed them on the dresser and went to stand if front of the mirror. Her hands slowly moved under the material of the outer part of the outfit, to which the cape was also sewn. When she had it off, she reached behind her back, untying the sewn-in corset, which was holding the main part of her outfit. She pulled it over her head and then went to sit on the bed to take off her shoes. She rested one leg on the other's thigh and untied the strings holding the shoe on her foot, then did the same with the other. She stood in front of the mirror again, looking at herself in her shirt and pants. Her hands went to her hair, and here her movements slowed. She unbraided her hair and ran her hands through it right next to her head, then combed it along its entire length with her fingers.

She touched her cheeks, running her fingertips down to her neck, then her cleavage and further down to the tie of her pants. She slowly loosened them enough to slide them over her hips and they fell freely to the floor, leaving her only in shirt. She unbuttoned it too, also slowly, letting it fall off her shoulders.

Standing naked in front of the mirror, she looked at herself in the context of what wouldn't leave her head.

Is she attractive? Are her facial features symmetrical? Aren't her eyes strange, having a different color than most people's? Do her lips have a nice shape? Maybe they're too small? Or too big? Is her hair nice, does she tie it up well? Or is her figure ugly? Is her waist too small? Or her bust? Isn't she wide enough in the hips? Maybe it's her thighs? Or her belly?

Daario called her the most beautiful woman who had walked this world, but he loved her, of course he would call her that. What if she's not that pretty? Maybe he doesn't like her?

She ran her hands over her cleavage once more, but this time it was bare, and when her hands reached her breasts, shivers went through her body. What if it wasn't her hands touching her? If she felt someone's warmth next to her, and not just imagined it? She could feel the silkiness of other lips on hers, the stubble gently teasing her face, the hands holding her tightly around the waist, while she herself gently tugged at her curly hair.

She put on her nightgown only to squeeze the edges of it and pull it up after she lay down on the bed, imagining that it wasn't her hands doing it. She closed her eyes and slid her hands down to her thighs, spreading them slowly. She couldn't stop herself. She was alone, no one would hear her - especially since she would try to be as quiet as she could.

She had never touched herself, but she remembered Daario doing it. How his hands and mouth explored her body, every nook and cranny, caring for it as if it was the greatest treasure in the world. Unfortunately, she only had her hands and her imagination to use, but she was certainly able to relieve herself, at least a little. She ran her fingers down to the spot that was begging to be touched and that always received a ton of attention from Daario. He often kissed her there, whispering sweet nothings that she didn't understand anyway, because she was too focused on the pleasure.

That night she also occupied herself with this thought, until tiredness caught up with her and forced her to hide under a warm duvet and drift off into dreams, where she could exceptionally truly rest.

And she was not the only one who enjoyed herself that night, thinking about someone specific and then finally having a real, heavy and relaxing dream.

* * *

As she said, the next day they said goodbye to King's Landing. However, it was not in the morning, but only around noon. In the morning, Visenya did something else that Tyrion strongly advised her against: she went to meet Petyr Baelish. As you can see, she came out alive, and was sitting on her horse, ready to leave the city.

No one paid attention to it, but it was very important to her, namely the white material that hung from the back of her right shoulder, attached to a silver, ornate chain that crossed her torso diagonally. It contrasted with the red and black of the rest of her clothing, but it matched the silver jewelry. Usually it was the deep red material that flowed down her back when she didn't wear the cloak, but today was different. She hadn't worn white since she had had to flee the arena in Meereen. She didn't think she deserved that color, as it was the purest of all, a symbol of goodness and innocence, but it was her way of showing happiness. She started to wear it again because of that boy... Robb Stark. It was her peculiar way of showing that she accepted her feelings, even though no one else could understand what she meant by adding it to her outfit. The important thing was that she knew and it meant a lot to her.

In addition, it somehow helped her to relieve some of the burden of carrying the entire dynasty on her shoulders. She was no longer surrounded by the colors of House Targaryen alone, but something that expressed her as a person. It was not her last name that would determine who she would be, but she would determine what her last name would mean. Black and red were important to her since she had fled the capital, and these were the colors she wore until she became Queen of Meereen. This had to do with the fact that under Tywin's thumb she could never wear them, but through all this they began to define her more than she would have liked.

Now she could feel at least partly like 'just Vis' again.

"The Queen doesn't seem as terrible as she was portrayed to be." ser Davos told Robb as they rode out of the city. He nodded ahead, where Visenya was a few meters away, only glimpses of her silver hair and profile as she spoke to ser Arthur. "But she certainly won't give up on subjugating all the kingdoms to herself, no matter how kind she is in private."

"Are you suggesting something, or are you just thinking out loud?" Stark replied, glancing at Visenya as if his gaze didn't dart there every few moments, hoping to see her smile, even though he'd like to see her laugh even more. He'd only heard her laugh quietly to herself once, but she'd been standing with her back to him, in the Dragonpit. Sometimes she smiled, but she usually remained serious. And it was no wonder, there wasn't much to laugh about.

"I wonder if there's a good way out of this that would make everyone happy." Robb looked at him, frowning. "What? That's what diplomacy is all about."

"No, that's not what I mean. I have the impression that you already have a specific solution in mind, but you don't want to tell me directly and you'd rather I come up with it myself." he explained, looking ahead for a moment, biting his lower lip slightly and shaking his head before looking back at Davos. "I'll make you sad, I don't think about it. I'd rather not, not yet."

"Before you know it, this conflict will arise between you again."

He sighed. It was clear that neither he nor Visenya brought up this topic when they talked to each other. They preferred to discuss lighter things or, on the contrary, heavier ones, concerning their past. He knew that this matter would come back to them someday, but he preferred to pretend that it didn't.

"If you have a suggestion, I'm all ears."

"Nothing ends conflicts like marriage." hearing Davos' words, it was good that he hadn't been drinking anything, because he would have surely choked. He almost choked on air, it was obvious from his face. "Is it such a repulsive proposition?"

"It's not that simple." he replied, as if he hadn't fallen asleep with the silver-haired woman's name on his lips the previous night. Robb himself hadn't thought about it, but at that moment Talisa was more of an excuse to avoid discussion than a real reason.

"But it would give many possibilities." Davos noted.

"She doesn't look like a woman looking for a husband."

Their gazes went to Visenya. Every time they had the opportunity to see her, she looked very serious. More like a King than a Queen, because those they knew from history wore dresses, didn't lead armies, and above all became Queens by marrying a ruler. Well, except for Rhaenyra Targaryen, but the Maesters didn't name her the first independent Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The woman who rode not far ahead of them had something about her that inspired respect just by her presence. The way she walked, the way she held her head high and her back straight. All she lacked was a crown, although even without it she looked very regal.

"She'll need at least a lover, after all, she won't leave the continent to the dragons."

"I don't intend to become one." at that moment, their yesterday conversation flashed through his mind, where in response to his words: 'You certainly won't be the last of your line' she replied: 'I don't know'.

He had already thought about it then, but still couldn't understand what she meant by that. Didn't she want to have children? In that case, she must have had some other plan for who would take the throne after her. Or maybe... What if she meant by that that she couldn't have children? But how would she know that? Someone had told her that? Where did she come to such conclusions? She was young, she still had many long years ahead of her.

At that moment, Visenya looked over her shoulder - and Robb quickly looked away - and she was not met with any gaze directed on her, which hurt a little. Used to being adored by Daario, she began to miss how much attention he paid to her and how he behaved around her: sometimes allowing himself too much, but in the end everything he did was for her, because he loved her. She might not reciprocate that deep feeling, but she could still draw happiness from that relationship.

Now she regretted a little that she had left him in Essos, no matter how it would be seen if she had brought a lover with her.

~

-> Chapter XLI ''Winterfell'' -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[samieree]

"Scandalous || Michael Jackson" Masterlist

(fanfiction)(Michael Jackson x OC)

[General Masterlist with list of boys I can write one-shots with here] [Michael Jackson Masterlist]

[my works are also avaiable on Ao3: Samiere and on wattpad: _Saelin]

Description + Prologue

Chapter I ''Beginning''

Chapter II ''Little diva''

Chapter III ''(Not so) beloved manager''

Chapter IV ''A kiss''

Chapter V ''Would you like to...?''