#but i'm not going to be an asshole and intrude on other people's boundaries by trying to explain that to them. i can deal.

[bamsywrites]

Flowers and Fire

Chapter 2: 'Ella and Almond

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC, future! Aegon ii Targaryen x OC

Tags/Warnings: fluff, childhood friends, shitty parents, angst ish, mostly just cute friend stuff

Notes: in this fic people are aged up a bit, Viserys is sick but not decaying yet, and Aegon is an asshole but not a rapist. Sorry if this is OCC or badly written. Please leave comments or criticism. My asks and inbox are open

Previously: Prologue

Aemond watched the waves crash against rocks, salty tears spilling down his cheeks and he could taste them on his tongue. He did not know what he had done to make them hate him. His nephews, his brother. Simply for not possessing a dragon. Aemond the Dragonless they had called him when he entered the hall for supper, snickering amongst each other. Aegon had even bonded with them over the shared torment.

"Why are you crying?"  A voice spoke out against the quiet of the night.

Aemond quickly wiped his eyes, sniffing as he sat up. He looked over the intruder, a young girl maybe a year younger with thick curly hair and striking green eyes. He could see she was missing several of her front teeth causing a bit of a lisp.

"I was not."

"You were too, She spoke brightly, sitting down next to him. "Is it because you don't have a dragon? I heard the other princes teasing you for it earlier in the courtyard."

He continued to look at her in silence, not sure what to think of this girl. Was she here to tease him too? Another cruel prank?

"I don't have a dragon, and I don't think there's anything wrong with me."

"You're not a Targaryen." He spoke bluntly, glaring at the young girl.

"No, I'm a Tyrell. I live in a place called Highgarden, and there are flowers everywhere, but anytime I try to tend to a garden, all the flowers die. I'm also a girl, and I'm supposed to like stitching, but I don't. I hate it, and I'm bad at it because every time I poke my hand with the needle." She flexed her fingers as she spoke, and Aemond could see little nicks and scars confirming her story.

He continued to sit in silence, staring at her. It was kind of jarring, going from nothing but the sound of the waves to hearing this other person who seemingly has no boundaries. A bundle of weirdly cheerful and optimistic energy in a pale pink dress. It had been mere moments but he already knew he'd never met anyone like her.

"But," she continued, "I did find things to be really super good at it. I draw, my penmanship is perfect according to my septa, and I'm good at remembering things which might not seem like a feat, but I remember dates and people and family sigils, my father says I'm like a walking history book. That's what you must do, find something else to be super good at."

Aemonds eyebrows furrowed,  wheels in his head turning. Of course, it mattered that he didn't have a dragon. He was the son of the king. It was a disgrace for him not to have one but a small voice said perhaps she was right. Maybe if he put more effort into his studies or using a sword then he would outshine the rest. Maybe he could still prove his worth without one, though his heart longed for one and there was a pull in his blood to find one.

"They would not care. They'd still tease me," he spoke finally and it was the truth. They would continue to tease him no matter what he did. It seemed to be the only thing the other boys liked to do; it truly was something that bonded Aegon with his nephews, it seemed. A shared torture of Aemond.

"But why do you care?" She asked with a tilt of her head and her eyes narrowed slightly as she awaited his answer.

She seemed genuinely interested in his answer, in him and his feelings. It was weird. Why would a stranger care? There had not been another child who did care; when other children visited The Keep, they almost always joined in with the others in their torment. Or they simply ignored him altogether. He thought over her words; their taunts affected him mainly because they were right. He was different. How could he be feared or respected if he had no dragon?

He could feel the emotions in his throat, making his voice sound thick as he tried not to cry. "Because they disrespect me! Because...because they're right. I'm different."

"That's true," she nodded, "You're different, but why is it bad? They're boring. My mama always told me that people were only rude or mean because they had no other way to be interesting. Mama was right. Your brother, your cousins, they aren't interesting or unique. They're mean because they have nothing else to be, it's all they have."

"They have each other. They have friends."

"You have me. I'll be your friend."

"I don't even know your name."

"My name is Avella. Avella Tyrell. And you're Prince Aemond. Now we can be friends."

~

"Are you even listening to me?" Lance Tyrell stared at his daughter across the table in their guest apartments in the Keep.

Avella nodded, her eyes focused on the deep red liquid in her goblet as she sloshed it from side to side. This was a nightmare. She spent most of her life avoiding Aegon if she could,  she's not liked him for one second. She had watched him tease his little brother relentlessly, watched him drink and whore his way around the city and the castle. She'd heard the whispers of noble women being rushed moon tea after they fell for his advances.

And now he was to be her husband.

"It's a good match. He's the firstborn son of The King," her father went on to explain rather matter-of-factly, not seeming to notice or care about the turmoil going on in his daughter's mind.

"The other vassal houses' faith in the Hightowers is crumbling. They've always looked to us as an example during those times and this will reinforce their loyalty to the Hightowers as you are marrying the grandson of Otto. It will strengthen our position," he continued after he received no response.

It felt like the world was crumbling around her, Avella started nibbling the skin of her inner lip and shook her head. "I do not wish for this, father." She spoke softly, barely heard across the table.

"Avella," Lance sighed in exasperation, his hand running over his beard. "This is what is needed for our family. One day we may be the Liege lords, with many vassals under us, and this connection to the crown is invaluable. The Hightowers are simply buying themselves time with this union before they fall out of favor."

Her silent gaze caught his, swallowing back tears as she silently pleaded with her father to take back this proposal and marry her off to someone else. Anyone else. She'd rather go live in the cold and snow of the North. She knew her duty, that she'd never marry for love and that was something she'd long ago come to terms with despite any girlhood fantasy of being swept off her feet. But she wanted to marry someone kind or honorable, someone who, at the very least, would show her respect and guard her dignity.

Aegon was neither kind nor honorable, he would disrespect her for sport and subject her to a slew of indignities as he would never be faithful to her or to stop spending his night lost in his cups. The most she could hope for was for him to quickly give her children and then leave her alone, a rather sad and lonely way to spend the rest of her days.

The thought of living at the Red Keep filled her with dread as well. Everyone was fake, perhaps not Heleana or Aemond but neither of those two seemed to want for a friend or company. The only company she could hope for would be that of the noble ladies and she couldn't stand them as much as they couldn't stand her. Talk of gossip, gawking at cute knights or lords, sewing dresses, the fake friendliness they all exuded, she wasn't suited for it. She would rather spend time with her friends at home,  Jeyne and Cait, who would go on walks with her or draw and read with her, whom the conversation extended past which Lord had taken a mistress that week.

Not to mention it was hotter than she was accustomed to.

The silence between them grew thick and uncomfortable. Lance had not seen his daughter as an independent person since she entered her teen years, moving from an attentive father who seemed to relish in her company to a man who wanted to marry his daughter off to be the broodmare for some noble lord and bring the family new connections. She missed when her father was her papa, when he would play with her and read to her, when she felt safe with him. She looked at him and wondered where that man had gone. Had she done something? Was he deceiving her all along? Was it perhaps something else entirely? It mattered not,  this was the reality she was faced with. It may just take a moment for her to come to terms with it.

"This is the best you could ask for, truly." Lance tapped his fingers against the table and took a swig from his wine. "And, in time, you will become queen."

His last words came slowly and her brow furrowed. Rhaenyra was the heir; everyone knew that. King Viserys had made that clear. Even if she wasn't, Aegon was not meant for the throne. He couldn't be a good king, he didn't know how. There wasn't one good bone in his body. The discipline it would take, the self-control, was something the prince had never possessed.

"Rhaenyra is heir," she answered simply.

Her father chuckled and shook his head, "The realm will not accept her. Law and tradition all dictate that the firstborn son shall take the throne. Once Viserys is dead, Aegon will take the throne and you will be his queen."

"And if I do not wish to be queen?"

The question made the tension boil over; Lance slammed his goblet down on the table. "You will marry him, you have no choice. You are my daughter, you will do as I say."

She swallowed thickly, standing up as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm glad it has served you so, father, that I was born a daughter and not a son." Without another word, she pushed past the guards and left the room.

~

She paced back and forth, fidgeting with the ring on her finger. The only thing lighting the courtyard was the stars and the light of a few torches. Her room felt suffocating, the pitied looks of her handmaids made her stomach turn. It wasn't hard to sneak out and use pillows to make it seem she was asleep in her bed. Her fingers twisted her ring as she thought.

Perhaps she could run away? She could cut her hair and bind her chest, giving herself to The Wall. She could steal a horse and ride for Dorne, hoping to be shielded there from her father's cruel agreement. Or board a ship and sail far away to some distant place in Essos. Anything to get away from this place. To get away from her future, it made her feel like she was suffocating or being buried alive.

Aemond had arrived at the courtyard with the same purpose. He'd heard the news whispered by servants, and he had his mother confirm it. His world came crashing down around him, though he was better at hiding his inner turmoil than most. His feelings for her, he was starting to recognize, were more than mere attraction and had evolved from the friendship of their youth. He didn't label it yet, afraid to speak into existence because if he did, then it might hurt more. He didn't know if he could stomach seeing Aegon with her, not just because of his feelings towards her,  but because he wanted better for her. He wanted a husband who would see her for what she was, who would respect her, hold to his vows, and be a friend to her.

Aegon would be none of that.

He wanted fresh air, he wanted to hit something really hard with his sword. He wasn't expecting to see her out here as well. He watched silently for a moment, the feelings of anxiety radiating from her were so palpable he could almost taste it. Would it be inappropriate to approach her? After all these years of avoiding her and the distance that had grown between them, it was hard for him to imagine her wanting him there.

His resolve was broken when he saw her lip quivering and her arms wrapping around herself, the sound of the broken sob in her throat that she was trying desperately to silence. He didn't touch her; he simply stood there for a moment until she noticed him.

"Prince Aemond," she straightened up, wiping her eyes quickly.

He swallowed at the formality of her response. "I remember a time when you only addressed me as 'King Almond', even in letters," his voice was soft as he moved closer to her.

Avella laughed at that, eyes still watery from her unshed tears and her throat thick with sobs yet to come, " 'Ella and Almond," she said softly referring to their childhood nicknames.

"You were always the more creative of us," he smiled a rare sight for most but something that was all too common around her.

"I had to be creative. All you did was brood in the library; it would have been dreadfully boring if I hadn't," she smiled softly at him.

A smirk tugged at his lips, "Are you saying you found me boring?"

"You insisted on reading the texts in High Valyrian. I do not speak High Valyrian."

He couldn't help but laugh softly and she joined him. Her tears seemed to subside and he just watched her a moment. She looked beautiful; in the stars and moonlight, she looked like a goddess.

She was a goddess to him, he'd worship at her alter for eternity if only she allowed.

"Mother told me the news."

The last sentence seemed to change the atmosphere between them. He didn't know why the words pushed past his lips when they were so obviously enjoying each other's company. Perhaps it was self-sabotage, hurting himself now so as not to open himself up to hurt in the future.

Her smile faltered and she looked at the ground, a sobering return to reality. "Oh, yes," she wet her lips. There was no use forcing a smile, Aemond would see right through it.

"I..." He didn't know what to say. Apologize? It wasn't his fault and he knew she would remind him as much. Confess his feelings to her? That was crazy and would just make her feel worse or push them further apart. Offer to take her away to Pentos where they can wed in secret? That was even crazier.

"I do not wish to continue with this silence if you are to live in the Keep," he confessed, and it was true. "I have missed your friendship."

Avella nodded, "As I have yours. I have been dreading the loneliness and boredom of this marriage, having my dearest old friend back will make it all the more bearable."

Dearest old friend. Aemond smiled at that, nodding his head. "I think it would do me good as well to have you here again. You have always been kind and caring. A gentle soul would do me good."

She nodded her head, her heart felt full as he talked of her so fondly. She had been worried he no longer cared or that perhaps she did something to ruin the friendship. Questions of why he had shut her out flitted through her mind but she pushed those back, promising herself to ask another time.

"As for boredom, perhaps I can help with that too. You will be a Targaryen by marriage; I think it would do you well to learn our histories. I know how history has always been of interest to you." His words ignited a curiosity inside her belly, an excitement.

"Perhaps you could teach me your family's native tongue as well," Avella asked with a questioning gaze, wondering if he would refuse her request or not.

Aemonds eye twinkled, "Perhaps I could."

She felt emboldened that he accepted her first request, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Perhaps you could teach me to use a sword."

This time Aemond chuckled softly, nodding his head. "Perhaps I could," he repeated.

It was incredible how fast it seemed their friendship was repaired. It felt the same as when they were young. The atmosphere, the banter, it was easy, and it seemed to simply click back into place in mere moments.

Avella felt relieved that she would not be alone here, that she had her dear friend back. Aemond alone would not be able to cure the loneliness that she was sure to come in her marriage, and she would still miss her friends at home, but it was better than nothing. It was better than simply being stuck with Aegon forever.

"When is the ceremony going to be?" Aemond asked; again, the atmosphere became tense at the reminder, but Avella seemed to be feeling a little more at ease.

"Within the fortnight. We are waiting for my family to reach Kings Landing. My brothers and grandmother are to attend." She spoke, fidgeting with her ring again and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

He simply looked at her for a moment. "While it might not offer much in terms of condolences, I will say I am grateful that you are aware of who he is. What is to come would be much more unbearable if you were not."

She nodded, shaking her head with a soft smile, "Ever the pragmatist aren't you?"

"It would be more harmful to you if I was dishonest and pretended that it wasn't what it was."

"I do not disagree. But we are speaking as if I'm marching to my death. Perhaps he will simply ignore me."

"Perhaps."

They fell into a comfortable silence. His presence was calming to her and knowing she had her best friend back eased her nerves about what was to come. It was that, mixed with the late hour and intense emotions of the day that caused a blanket of exhaustion to fall over Avella.

She yawned, looking at Aemond. "I must go to bed or I will fall asleep here. Will I see you tomorrow?"

He nodded towards her, "You will. Goodnight 'Ella."

Avella couldn't stop the bright smile stretching across her features and Aemond felt his heart stop at the sight.

"Goodnight Almond."

[kara-is-a-cutie]

You inspire me so much, Kara. I've been on Tumblr for a while now and of course there are things that gross me out a lot. But the other day I had an argument with a follower who kept calling me difficult and a bitch for not opening my DMs for him. I know that wasn't explicit or something anyone would maybe consider triggering? But for some reason that hurt me more than other messages I've received. I'm not going to trauma dump on you, I just want to say that that back and forth exchange with this idiot who didn't respect my boundaries, didn't even have the decency of reading my blog rules and kept calling me names, made me feel powerless and voiceless. And I felt like that when I was a child and a teen with my shitty father at home.

But I encountered one of your posts about the dumbasses you block and I felt better! I deserve to establish boundaries and have people respect them . That's why I admire you and your strength (even if some trigger you from time to time): you keep being firm about what you want /like and what you don't.

Thank you for helping me feel stronger - ✴️

Om really glad it's helping. In the future: the second you even start feeling an ounce of powerlessness just block them. It is not worth your self esteem and safety to make some asshole happy. In most of my interactions with people like this I know I'm not gonna get through to them. I only pick these fights cause it's nice to have some way to unlessh all of the rage I've got bottled up and perhaps make them feel embarrassed, but once it doesn't do that for me anymore and start effecting me negatively I just block them. These people don't have the right to intrude on your peace.

I'm so proud of you for setting boundaries. ❤️

[mjalti]

ana i tell people my feelings straight up and make it known when they've crossed boundaries. i also reply to people calling me attractive/ beautiful with a variation "i know, thank you!" and truly the only people i want to know love me and find me beautiful are the people that i love. do you think i could be coming off as mean? people have told me this can be mean but i feel like i'm just confident and content with myself and don't need an unhealthy amount of external validation. i know maybe this is hard for you to evaluate since you literally only have my own perspective so i wanted to aak you if you have any words on what to avoid when going for self-assured and not, like, asshole. thanks in advance you're a gem for your replies!!!

If someone tells you that it’s mean, ask them how it’s mean. Make them explain why it’s mean of you to accept a compliment, or to assert yourself. “It can make others uncomfortable” —so for the sake of the feelings of someone being mean to me, I’m supposed to ignore my discomfort and allow them to walk all over me?—“well no but it’s not nice.” — I agree it’s not nice to be put in that situation so I take steps to let the person intruding know to never do it again. Make the other person confront their own prejudice, their own misogyny (on several levels), and their own flawed logic.