"He stands before her helplessly, wanting to comfort her but overwhelmed by her display of emotion and the violence of her incapacitation. Perhaps in another world, or in his heart of hearts, he kneels on the floor and cradles her, brushing her sweet hair with his lips like a promise..."
art: Firs Sergeevich Zhuravlev, "Before the Wedding" (1874) via flickr
quote: mine, from a concept exercise for my next wip
aegon targaryen x lannister!oc. aemond targaryen x lannister!oc.
warnings: language, underage drinking, targcest, infidelity (from almost everyone), allusions to sex, religious guilt, misoginy, pregnancy and childbirth, possible grammar mistakes (english is not my first language)
words: 2.7k
The celebration of a princess’ marriage was meant to be a merry occasion, with a ceremony straight out of a dream and joyful expressions all around. However, there was no happiness in Aegon and Helaena’s wedding.
In the early morning, a hungover prince Aegon had to be dragged out of his bed and forcefully dressed up for the ceremony. The princess, although less vocal about her displeasure with the situation, became a void shell during the whole day. An unresponsive doll made to be paraded around the streets of King’s Landing after being involuntarily tied up to her own brother in a “happy” union.
Perhaps the one good thing about the ceremony was that it forced Aemond out of his room. But his first public appearance after the incident was a shock to everyone present. The boy he was before was nowhere to be found, in his place a cold prince. His clothes were much darker, matching the leather eyepatch that became his usual accessory. At the same time concealing and highlighting the injustice he suffered at the hands of Rhaenyra’s boys.
The Lannisters all came to the grand feast that succeeded the ceremony, and Elora could see her father and brother after so long. She tried to squeeze the little boy into her arms, but he didn’t seem as little anymore. And to her father, she looked even more grown.
“Have you had any time to mend your relationship with the prince?” Lord Jason nudged his daughter as he looked to Aemond, surprised by his new demeanour.
The girl turned around as she talked to her father, glancing quickly to her groom that seemed completely uninterested in everything around him. “It’s hard to reconcile with someone who does not want to speak to you.” She murmurs to her father, looking around to make sure no one else could listen to hear, fearing the possible rumours of her betrothed’s rejection.
“Try harder.” The man held his daughter’s chin, carefully turning her to see eye to eye. “You are the most beautiful girl in Westeros since Viserra Targaryen, surely there’s something you can do to force the prince out of hiding.” His tone was the closest thing to a scold that Lord Jason was capable of doing to his daughter. Although debatable, he truly believed his words, and had a strange faith in what his daughter’s beauty could achieve.
Elora sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her father’s words. “Do you fear he might break the engagement?” She murmured, confessing the terrible worries that have plagued her mind ever since Aemond changed.
“No, of course not.” Lord Jason almost scoffs as he speaks, the question sounding absurd to him. “The king would be mad to break our arrangement. He knows he would not find the prince a suitable bride given his condition.” Scar. Not a condition. The girl considered correcting the man, but she knew it was purposeless. The whole Seven Kingdoms saw Aemond as a broken thing, and she didn’t know why she kept denying it. Only she knew it was not his face that was damaged, it was something else, something deeper.
The conversation between them dies out as all eyes turn to the newlyweds. The two children in their place of importance on the table looking extremely miserable as their moribund father rises for a speech. Elora could not repeat a single word from the rivers of nonsense spilled out of the king. Ranting about the joys of marriage and family, while the only child he truly remembered to name was his first born. The same daughter who was not present for the wedding.
No, the lady would not listen to any of the lies coming from that walking corpse, not when her focus was on something else. Even if she tried, she knew her eyes could not turn from the dark circles beneath prince Aegon’s eyes. A fading red mark over his cheekbone from what looked like a strong blow. An aura of grief and regret that encircled him, engulfing his poor sister and bride. The lilac of his irises swallowed in a sea of red in his bloodshot eyes. And despite being several metres away, she knew he was not listening to his father either.
The two of them, however, would soon find that the words they missed were of ultimate importance, as princess Helaena mechanically got up from her seat and followed her mother out of the great hall. The prince took longer to realise he was meant to go as well, having to be woken from his trance by a servant. Whatever it was that was whispered between the two of them enraged the boy, who protested and fought back with an expression of disgust. But his resistance was short lived as Lord Hightower rose to his feet and snatched his grandson’s arm, forcing him out of the room.
Elora watched the scene unfold in horror. How could a simple lord act in such a way to a prince? One of his own bloodline, nonetheless. But none of the other guests present seemed to share her alarm, already entertained by their own conversation or by the wine flowing generously on the tables.
Tugging at the sleeves of her father’s doublet. “Where are they taking them?” Her voice was high-pitched, unable to tone out the shock she felt at such a display of barbarity.
Lord Jason furrowed his brows confused, looking around to make sure no one heard his daughter’s question. “Elora, do not be indiscreet.” He hissed at her, leaning closer so he could whisper only to her ears. “The couple was taken to their bedding ceremony. They must consummate their marriage.” His tone was emotionless, like what he had just explained wasn’t a world-shattering fact for the poor, overly sheltered girl.
Still processing such dreadful news, Elora felt bile rising up her throat as she tried to imagine such a thing. Not only be forced to marry your sibling in front of the eyes of hundreds, but be forced to bed them as well. To have the judgement of strangers as you share what was meant to be a sacred and intimate act between two people who love each other.
She felt the colour draining from her skin, the growing frown on her face as she did her best to push those thoughts aside. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice her discomfort, and so she was allowed to remain a statue for the rest of the feast.
***
The night had progressed deeply by the time Elora came back to her senses, a small calloused hand extended to her in a silent invitation.
“My lady?” Aemond called for her again, his stoic demeanour not faltering even as he was forced to repeat his question. “Will you accompany me?” His single eye bore into her skull, the deepness of the violet more evident with the contrast from the eyepatch. Nodding stiffly, she took his hand hesitantly as she stood up from her chair, letting him lead her to wherever he had requested them to go.
Taking short steps behind him, she wondered where her estranged groom might take her. To the gardens where they stayed with Helaena when she would speak to the bugs. To the tall white tree where they shared secrets. To the library where they would spend hours reading tales of old. She imagined this was the moment they’d finally talk. Privately, the two of them could go back to what they were.
But the prince seemed to have other plans. Holding tightly to the girl’s hands, he had no trouble pulling her to the middle of the dance floor now that their height was practically the same. Still holding to an ounce of reserve, Aemond took her to a spot right in the middle of other couples, their constant movement keeping the children simultaneously in and out of sight. Moving with the melodic sound of the waltz playing, a million thoughts swirled through the girl’s mind as to what would have caused reclusive and cautious Aemond to ask for a dance.
“My grandsire told me of some rumours about our engagement…” The young boy whispered, barely touching her hand as they danced. “That we were no longer betrothed.” His tone was unchanging, not a hint of emotion or anxiety while discussing such an important matter.
“Our fathers would not break their arrangement.” The lady retorted back quickly, doing her best to maintain her expression as indifferent as his.
“But we would.” His gaze was piercing as he met her expecting eyes, frozen solid as his palms dared to brush against hers. “Or… you would. Given the circumstances.”
Elora’s face grew red with frustration, once again he was accusing her of being shallow and caring only for his looks. The young girl imagined several different curses to spit at him, but none came out of her lips as the boy continued to speak. “We must show the other lords that is not the case.” Without hesitating, Aemond took hold of her fingers, twirling her with the notes of the melodramatic song.
With her back turned to her future husband, Elora was in shock. Did this mean he was finally going to start speaking to her again? To form a bond and connection before they were wed. “I never had any intention of ending our engagement.” Her answer is a murmur, cautiously turning to face him again as she allows herself to touch his hand without shame. “You know that…”
For a passing moment, Aemond seemed conflicted, and for a fraction of a second he looked warm again. “It does not matter what I think. Or what you say.” She dared to imagine the sorrowful tone in his voice was an attempt at an apology, despite the choice of words. “What matters is what others see.” His eye turns outward, scanning the guests who watched the children dance in a naive display of affection. “So when we are seen together, we must appear to be pleased with our situation.”
And there was the coldness again. The natural apathy that tugged at her heartstrings. “Are you not pleased?” The girl’s voice was shaking, a tremble on her bottom lip threatening to form a pout.
“I am satisfied.” And finally, the blow. The mindless destruction of her hope. “As should your family be. You will marry a prince, and bring respect to your family name.”
The music came to an end, the numerous couples stopped their swirling and clapped for the young couple. Finishing their one humiliating dance, the girl wanted nothing more than to flee that place, run to her chambers, leave for Lannisport and never have to deal with a silver-haired dragon again. But she was Elora Lannister, a noble lady, the most estimated jewel of Casterly Rock. And a Lannister would not cower so easily.
She would stay with her fiance. They would dance again for all eyes to see the strength of the alliance between their Houses. She would smile and twirl and laugh with the prince and prove that she will be a good wife to him.
Or so she thought, but a pale haired ghost stole all reason from her. In a mindless act of curiosity, she excused herself from Aemond and masterfully dodged her father’s inquiry of her actions, determined to find where the moon kissed boy was running to. The truth is she didn’t know what drove her to follow the prince Aegon across the palace all the way to a secluded balcony, but one look at his tear-stained face told her this was the one place she needed to be.
The shaking boy didn’t seem to mind her slow approach, breathing shallow as he shrunk himself by a wall in the security of the shade. “Everything is done, I suppose?” Elora questioned gently, taking a seat beside him. On closer inspection, she found the empty bottle of wine lying beside him.
“I hope so.” He murmured with a woeful expression, his eyes deep and clouded with welled up tears. “I’m praying they think it’s enough.” The prince hisses while nudging his head towards the inside of the castle. A wave of rage made him bring the bottle back to his lips, groaning once he found it already drained.
Fearing he would flee to find himself another drink, the girl tried to keep his attention on her. “Are you… alright?” Was the only thing she thought to ask, perhaps the only thing she could. “...Helaena?”
Aegon’s face hardens with the question, his intoxicated look darkening as he shoots up to lean over the balcony. “I didn’t hurt her if that’s what you mean.” His spit at her, gripping the ledge as he looks off into the night.
“I didn’t. I…” She tries to explain herself, standing up to move beside him before being scared by his outrage.
“I know you did. That’s what you always think of me.” The prince pushes her hesitant hand away, his voice choked up as he almost loses the balance on his feet. “That’s what you, and mother, and Aemond, and everyone else seem to think of me. ‘Poor little Helaena, stuck with her drunken brother’. ‘Poor Viserys, having a useless moron for a son’.” His voice comes out loudly with his anger, maybe louder than he intended. Moving his arms dramatically while mocking the terrible words said about him, Aegon stumbles on his own boots and trips over the cobble stone floor of the terrace. Without balance because of the alcohol, he holds on to the ledge as he begins to lean back over the ledge.
Instinctively, Elora reaches out with both arms, pulling him forwards by his clothes with enough strength to crash his body to hers. Trembling in panic, she tightens her hold on him, pressing the boy flush to her chest as she looks down to the ground beneath them, her mind reeling as she imagines what a fall from such height could do to someone. But the storm in her mind subdues as fast as it started when she feels his hands going up her back, his shaky arms snaking around her torso as Aegon hid his face in her hair.
If she was holding him tight so he would not fall, he was holding her tight so she couldn’t leave. The girl had no intention to hug him, nor touch him in any sense, however the cold drops of tears that fell from his eyes on her neck and the choked sobs that shook his body made her put all proper convention aside.
The prince’s cries did not stop once she returned the affection, nor when she caressed his hair and tried to soothe him. It seemed like the more she tried to comfort him, the more scared the boy felt, collapsing in her arms.
After a couple hours, he was done sobbing, snuggled up her chest and his face nuzzled up her neck as his breath finally went back to normal. Only his grip on her was unwavering. His fingers clenched to her clothes like she might slip away the moment he relaxed, but Elora did not mind, letting him hold on to her as he slowly came back to his senses. “I’m sorry…” He murmured childishly, keeping his eyes concealed in embarrassment.
“It’s alright.” She responded without thinking, combing her fingers through his soft curls.
“It’s not.” He shakes his head, brushing his nose against the damp skin of her neck. “You shouldn’t have to do this… why did you come for me anyways?” Aegon lifted his head just enough so their eyes could meet, his face swollen from crying for so long.
Once again, the boy made her speechless, for she didn’t know what made her follow him, or comfort him, or show him any sort of kindness. But the more she tried to think of an answer the more obvious it seemed. “I just don’t find you as terrible as I did before…” A brief smile crossed her lips as he dried away the remaining tears on his cheeks.
That was enough of an answer, and suddenly the one she despised became her only friend in that place.
aegon targaryen x lannister!oc. aemond targaryen x lannister!oc.
warnings: language, underage drinking, targcest, infidelity (from almost everyone), allusions to sex, religious guilt, mysoginy, pregnancy and childbirth, possible grammar mistakes (english is not my first language)
words: 3.1k
As king Viserys II decreed, the prince Aegon and princess Helaena would be wed by the end of the season in a ceremony open to the small folk. All of the royal family and the main houses of Westeros were invited to the celebration. Rumours dared to say princess Rhaenyra would not attend it.
For the months prior to the wedding, Elora stayed in the Red Keep. Hopefully her presence could force the younger prince out of his hiding, or so was thought. During her time there, the girl did her best in tending to the queen and princess, slowly but surely finding a way into their affections. On more than one occasion, she found herself being the one to offer them comfort during preparations, for the truth was, no one seemed truly pleased with the decision. Alicent and Helaena were in a constant state of distress, one drowning in emotion and the other running from it. Soon, the embroidery sessions became a frequent routine for the women, a refreshing moment of peace away from the prying eyes from the men from court. In time, the young lady stopped worrying about the rejection from her groom, finding joy in the occasions when she was only accompanied by the queen and princess, and life in King’s Landing became merrier.
To her at least.
The prince Aegon seemed to grow more miserable by the day, becoming increasingly harder to find him sober. If Helaena did not agree to the idea of marriage, he surely despised it. Even teasing Elora did not give him the contempt it used to, and eventually he stopped searching for her at all.
Aegon gone. Aemond gone. To her the dragon princes became ghosts too, and she wouldn't have minded if they stayed like that.
***
The first time she heard the deafening sound of Vhagar’s wings crossing the skies, Elora had sworn a hurricane was upon them. By the tenth time, it was a bitter reminder of the boy that refused to meet her. The girl didn’t bother to go near the Dragon Pit to encounter him, knowing he would evade any attempt she made at conversation with him, and she had endured too much of his humiliation to care for his company again. The lady stayed in her rooms, imagining Aemond going back to his solitary self-imposed confinement, hiding from the sight of any and everyone that tries to get close. She could picture it already. The young prince, sinking in self pity, harshly sending away the poor servant that goes to call him for supper, his chair empty during another meal.
And yet, the strangest thing happened, a soft knock on her door. Not from the prince, but from a maid, bringing with her a vase.
“My lady.” The woman excuses herself into the bedroom, carrying the small vessel where a single wild lily is placed. “The prince Aemond sent this to you.” She carefully places it on the vanity, the flower looking eerily delicate between the jewels.
Elora was at a loss of words. Weeks of silence and now this? What could he possibly mean by that? An apology? A mockery of her situation in the palace? There was a time she believed she understood his feelings, but that was before.
Her silence seemed to be enough of an answer for the servant, as she began making her way out. “Wait.” Elora called back, unable to take her eyes off the white petals like silk. “Did he send a message also?” He had to. He couldn't send only a flower, she needed more.
“No, my lady.” The woman looked remorseful, probably sensing the girl’s disappointment.
“He returned to his rooms?” Elora’s question wasn’t more than a whisper, the flower sitting in her vanity as a token of how she was ignored.
The maid bowed further, keeping her pitiful eyes to the floor. “Yes, my lady.”
No word, no visit, only a small lily. That was all she had from Aemond in over a moon’s time. The girl sent the servant away with a wave from her hand, her eyes hypnotised by the delicate blossom. So much more than the prince had offered in so long and yet not nearly enough.
It was this inconsistency that drove her out of her chambers, down multiple corridors and to stand outside Aemond’s door. The hard wood being the one thing keeping her away from him for what felt like an eternity. She considered knocking, but she knew that would only give him the chance to send her away, to lock the door before she could reach for the handle. Putting aside all the good manners her father forced on her, Elora pushed the door open and barged in, not caring about excusing herself or giving Aemond any warning of her intrusion.
The prince had already changed from his riding clothes, now only in a comfortable shirt, his loose hair falling over his face. The left side of his face was covered in bandages, the cloth the same colour as his pale complexion, his single eye wide in panic.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed, tossing aside all the kindness the girl remembered, his left hand hiding his injuries out of instinct.
The question startled Elora, and to her it was like she was in a dream, walking in her sleep only to wake in his room. On any other day such a thought would make her embarrassed, but now she had decided there was something greater than her reputation. “A flower?” Her tone was childish, a mix of anger and incredulity.
Aemond looked puzzled, his brow furrowed as he searched for an explanation in her expression. Noticing his confusion, she walked to where he was and forcefully placed the vase on a table, the lily dancing from the movement. “Weeks of silence and this is the first thing I get from you?”
If the one-eyed prince was pale, he now looked translucent, his lilac iris glued to the pure flower. His mouth opened and closed a few times, his mind working to come up with the right words, the first ones after so long. “I imagined you’d like it.” He finally whispered, a silver curtain covering half of his face as he took a careful step back.
“I would prefer to have a word with you.” She stepped forward, not letting him flee from her this time. “To be allowed to meet you as we did before.” Her words carried a heavy grief, the memory of the boy she met not so long ago had turned into a sorrowful one.
“‘Before” was long ago…” He gruffed a response, fully turning away to return to his armchair.
“Before your scar, you mean?” Elora crossed his chambers to stand in front of him, all semblance to her practised politeness gone.
A dark cloud came down in the room, the roars of the wind too loud to let anything else be heard. The silence between those children, who used to be so close, was now suffocating. A warm and thick atmosphere engulfing them and sticking to their skin, forcing them to be too aware of their situation. There was no more sparkle between them, no space to bloom. “What do you want?” His question, although dry, was not as bitter as his previous words.
“To see you.” The girl whispered, taking a careful step forwards.
“I am here.”
“Not truly.” The physical distance between them diminished, and for once Aemond didn’t move back. Yet, he seemed to be whole galaxies away.
His brows creased, for once he considered putting down his barriers, but he would not be vulnerable again, not with her. “Where else can I be?”
“Driftmark.” Her tone was both firm and gentle, testing just how much she could push him. “Many moons ago.” She considered closing the gap between them, taking his hand and shouting that she felt sorry for what happened to him, that it didn’t matter what he looked like, only that he loved her. She said nothing else, the prince wouldn’t let her.
“I’m certain that may worry you very much, my lady.” His face turned away, a pearly curtain keeping him hidden from her sight.
She was now considering slapping him. “Do you truly think so little of me? That a scar would change my judgement over you?” Her voice trembled, her face slowly contorting into a painful scowl.
“It might if that’s the face you’ll be forced to see every day.” Aemond’s answer came without any thought, an instinctive snarl to anyone who got too close. After a moment, he returned to a stoic act. “I would understand if it changed something for you. I am changed because of it.”
“No.” Her tone was disbelief, shock, anger, refusal. Whiny enough to sound like it came from a common girl.
“No?” The prince scoffed, rolling his eye at her.
“No, that’s not what’s changed.” Elora spoke firmly, striding over the room to stand right in front of him. “It’s not your face, it’s you.” In a defiant instinct, she carefully moved his hair away from his face, looking at him for the first time in so long. The lady sucked in a breath, shocked by the thin, deep line running from his temple to his cheekbone. The violet iris replaced by a dark void.
Her shock was just not bigger than the prince’s itself. Quickly, slapping her hand away to cover his scarred face. His pale complexion now giving space to the deep hue of shame.
“Do you truly think I care so much about what you look like?” The girl murmured, tearing up at such a violent reaction from him.
Aemond turned away from her, taking slow steps further into the room. No answer came. Elora understood none would come at all, and that confirmed what she needed to know.
Curtsying to the prince’s back, she stormed out of the room, making sure to close the door as loudly as she could despite the reactions she could receive. If Aemond had decided he thought the worst of her, what did it matter if she tried to be better?
And the servants nearby would have probably been distraught by her behaviour if they weren’t so occupied by trying to get prince Aegon back into his chambers. His pale hair dishevelled, simple clothes dirty and tainted with wine, an inebriated smile plastered on his face as he struggled to even stand straight. Elora’s mouth hung open at the sight, the boy having to be escorted by a couple guards as his feets dragged over the floor with his weak protests.
“Sister!” He yelled once he had a glimpse of her, pushing away the poor servants as he stumbled in her direction. The girl’s nostrils were filled with the stench of alcohol as he loosely draped his arms over her shoulders, his embrace keeping him somewhat upright. “Aemond’s little bride…” He slurred his words, clinging to her figure as he slipped onto the ground again.
She was frozen with the scene in front of her, the two guards apologising profusely as they tried to untangle his arms from her. “It’s alright, really…” She murmured more out of politeness, trying to disguise just how distressed she was with the prince’s touch. “What happened?”
“The prince was out drinking again, my lady.” The men bowed as they finally took hold of Aegon again. “We must return him back to his rooms.” Their voices sounded embarrassed, tired, but not surprised.
The girl scanned over the strange trio again, her mind in deep thought as she saw the carefree smile on the boy’s face. The expression of someone that doesn’t have to worry about a single thing, who can afford to escape and drink his weight in wine while others had to stress over his own wedding. Sighing heavily, she opened the way for the men to pass, nodding for them to continue.
“Aenara.” The prince’s voice echoed in the hallway after just a few steps away from the lady, struggling to turn in her way again.
She looked at him with furrowed brows, gazing at his crooked smile, the cracks of his lips, how sunken his face looked in comparison to what she remembered. Letting out a long exhale, she met his eyes again, taking in the lilac shimmer of his irises, how his face flushed with colour with her small acknowledgement. And there it was, the same mischievous challenge he had been to her so many times before, and for once she knew she wouldn’t win.
With an immediate regret, she stepped closer to the guards. “Wait!” She called out, quickening her approach to stand in front of them. “I’ll accompany you.” She muttered shy, looking to the carpet beneath her feet, before turning around and leading them across the palace.
A million thoughts swirled in her head, trying to come up with an acceptable excuse to why she was helping that boy, the same one she tried so much to avoid. An awkward silence followed them over multiple corridors, interrupted only by Aegon’s incoherent babbling, his fits of giggles almost making her curious. An eternity had passed before they reached the heavy doors of his chambers’, and the lady let out a sigh of relief that her odd task was over.
The guards threw the prince onto his bed without much care, bowing heavily to the girl, who stood uneasy by the door, unable to not notice the layer of sweat that started to form over the boy’s body. “This should be enough, my lady. We will inform the queen that the prince is back.” The men spoke with some concern.
Inform the queen. Bother Alicent with another problem, one that laid right in front of her. “No.” She shook her head, carefully entering the room, keeping her eyes fixed on the unconscious prince. “There’s no need for that. I’ll tend to him.” With a sway of her hand, the guards were gone, and she was alone in Aegon’s room. Alone with him.
She tried to convince herself it was an act of charity that forced her to stay. A way to ease poor queen Alicent’s troubles in such a stressful time. But the truth was she didn’t know. Why she didn’t keep her eyes away, why she didn’t turn her back on him, why she followed him into this place.
Fearing what answer she would find if she thought too hard over it, Elora forced herself away from the door, cautiously approaching the bed. The girl stood confused by the headboard, looking down to the feverish boy in his drunken slumber. She didn’t really know how to tend to someone in such a state, much less how to get him out of it. She did, however, know how to wake someone after they had passed out.
Filling a glass with some water, she splashed the prince without warning, watching how he got soaked with the cold water. If it had sobered him up, she did not know, but he surely made him more aware.
“What the- what are you doing?” His voice cracked as he yelled at her, fruitlessly trying to dry his face with the sleeves of his shirt.
“Making sure you’re still breathing.” Her response was far more playful than she had intended, not holding in a shy chuckle at how his face burned red with bewilderment.
“By trying to drown me?” The boy didn’t seem to share her humour at the situation, sitting up as he wiped his face.
Her laughter grew louder, and she covered her face with her hands to hide the true extent of her amusement. “Oh please, it was a glass of water, your highness. There are far more stressful things.” She eyed over his distraught expression, almost scoffing at how bothered he looked by one teasing.
“Truly? Such as…” He asked with a smug look, his eyes beaming as he expected to win another match against her.
“Planning a wedding.” Her eyes narrowed as she dared to bite back at him, partially hoping to bother him enough to force him to care about the effort everyone else was putting into it.
The prince’s expression fell immediately, a dark semblant glossing his eyes. Still, a smirk curled his lips, a cruel scoff leaving them. “Yes, my wedding, such a merry occasion.” His tone dripped of sarcasm, and he fell back on the mattress covering his face with his arms to ignore the girl.
“Yes. Your wedding.” She forcefully pulled his arms away from his face, all amusement replaced by pent up anger as she watches how quickly he dismisses the subject. “The one that has been tormenting your mother and sister for ages, and which you seem to not care at all.”
He sat up again, looking into her eyes with a matching fire, for once looking like he was fully there. “Sorry if I’m not ecstatic about the arrangement, my lady…” Aegon hissed at her, the heat of the alcohol irradiating off his body. “But I would rather not be married.”
Elora withdrew from him, suddenly intimidated by his piercing gaze. “Don’t act like you’re suffering.” She whispers automatically, not having the time to think before the words spilled out of her. “Not when Helaena’s fate is far worse.” Clenching her jaw, she took back her stance, letting her fury reign over her uncertainty.
“Helaena’s fate?” The prince snapped at her, his eyes turning red with rage as he stood tall in front of her. “Why her fate? What of mine?” His voice was choked as he spoke, and for a split second he looked anguished, looking down to her like a tortured man. “Why does everyone seem to forget I am as much of a victim in this?”
The lady kept his gaze, her lips trembling as she tried to think of a response. ‘Because you’re the man’, ‘because you’re a prince’, because you don’t care’. She considered saying all these things to him. But in reality, how could she?
Aegon didn’t have a say in the matter. He was not much older than herself, and in this moment, he didn’t look like a prince. Looking in his eyes, he looked scared. Mirroring the same agony that had plagued her mind ever since she was sent to the Red Keep.
Instead she said nothing, taking a step back as she lowered her head. “Clean yourself.” She whispered, trying to ignore the bitter guilt that grew in her chest. “I’ll not tell the queen about tonight. Good bye, my prince.” She bowed to him and left.
Aegon stood there for many minutes after he was alone, staring at the door like she was just behind the wood. But she didn’t come back to apologise. After the darkness slipped into the room, he went to sleep.
warnings: language, underage drinking, targcest, infidelity (from almost everyone), allusions to sex, religious guilt, mysoginy, pregnancy and childbirth, possible grammar mistakes (english is not my first language)
words: 4.9k
It takes some time before the girl gets to see the Targaryens again, only exchanging letters with Queen Alicent, and writing a couple shy words to Aemond every now and then. But once the news reached the girl about the terrible inflictions suffered by her husband-to-be, she urged her father to let her visit King’s Landing, desperate to know of his well being.
“The scars on his face… will never fade.” Lord Jason’s voice is careful when he explains the situation better to his daughter, their carriage only a few minutes away from the Red Keep. “I will understand if you wish to break the engagement after you see him.” Although his words are kind, Elora can’t help the shocked frown that appears on her face.
“It is not a scar that would make me give up on my marriage.” Her voice is determined as she grows offended with the assumption. In her mind, she believed others should know she was not vain and shallow. “Bearing a scar only indicates that my husband is strong.” She reasons with the man.
“It’s not only a scar.” Her father sounds more wary when he adds. “The prince has lost an eye. He might not be how you remember.” He reaches a hand to rest on the girl’s knee, trying to prepare her for the truth.
Elora only grows more concerned with the comment, looking away from the man in front of her and out through the windows. She furrows her brows and strats to fidget with the fabric of her skirts, lost in thought. A wound couldn’t change someone so much. No matter what, Aemond is still her betrothed, the shy and kind boy who got nervous every time they spoke. She thought it was better to hope he was still the same, that nothing would change.
‘O gods, please let him still be the same.’
Soon enough she would learn the true graveness of his scars, as the carriage starts to pull up in the inner gates of the Red Keep. This time only the queen is there to greet them, excusing the absence of her husband with fleeting words. Lord Jason is quick to look for his king, and the lady and the queen are left alone.
“Thank you so much for coming, Elora” Queen Alicent’s voice is kind, there are dark circles under her eyes, she looks far more pale than the last time. The girl wondered how much sleep she must have gotten ever since her son was mauled. “I’m certain Aemond will be very pleased with your company.” The queen puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder, leading her inside the palace.
Anxiety builds up in her stomach as they walk along the corridors. The queen’s expression remains serious, but there’s a hidden sadness that Elora knew very well how to read. The worry of a mother, the secret dark thoughts that darken their minds when something is wrong. Really wrong. “How is he?” The question is slow, careful, not wanting to ignite the fire. For a short second, she believes she sees Alicent crack. “No one has given me any real information on his state.” She keeps talking like someone readying themselves for an attack. “I should know how he is if I am to make him feel better.”
The woman stops in her tracks, looking down to the girl with a grim expression. Her lips tremble as she ponders over her words, and her face carries a grief beyond repair. “He is… well enough, physically.” Her speech sounds rehearsed. “But he is still fairly upset with the event. Being attacked by his own kin… defenceless.” The queen seems so far away from reality, the memory looking so recent to her.
That look scares Elora, a dreadful fear that there's more to Aemond’s incident than what is known. “His kin?” She asks in a low whisper.
And the sadness is so quickly replaced by hate. “Rhaenyra’s sons. And Daemon’s daughters. The four of them together… attacked him and blinded him over an insult.” Each word spilled out of her like venom.
The girl wanted to question further, finding it shocking to know Aemond was maimed by his own nephews. She never spent too much time with them, but they didn’t seem the type to be capable of something so cruel. Fearing the weight of her next words, she simply nodded in understanding and the two started walking again. It was a silent uncomfortable walk to the prince’s chambers, the only place where he could be found as she was told. Even weirder than the walk was the sorrowful look of queen Alicent as she urged the lady to go inside.
Frightened, she entered the dragon’s den alone. The room was dark, the curtains were closed, the mirrors were gone, and the once so bright prince roamed in the shadows with his face turned away.
“Prince Aemond.” She announced herself, curtsying as she was supposed to. It was hard to see inside the murky chamber, the only source of light in the lit fireplace.
“Mother told me you were coming.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, still sitting in the big armchair, the flames showing the silhouette of his profile. For the first time ever since they met, he sounded cold.
Elora nodded and took a step closer, her hands clutching each other in front of her. “I wanted to see you.” For the second time she felt she might be getting too close to the fire. “I was informed you were hurt.” Her slow approach is rapidly stopped by a hiss.
“That is close enough.” He tilts his face only slightly, his features still engulfed in darkness.
His rejection was sharper than a knife to her heart. “But I wish to see you…” She explained in the kindest voice she could find, but remained in her spot.
“What for?” There was a bitterness in his tone that she couldn’t recognize. “Judging if I’m still fit to become a husband?” And that bitterness spilled out of him and into her. The same misconception of her father. How vain they truly think she is.
Swallowing her cry and her wounded pride, she remains standing tall, looking straight to his hidden figure. “I wanted to check if you wanted company, or if I could help you in some way.” His initial sting turns her own voice dry.
“I’m alright, thank you.” His face turns away from her again. “You can go now.”
His blunt response made her caring feelings vanish. She wanted to shout at him, tell him of how worried she was, how she had to beg to come here, how far she had to travel to reach him. But she did none of those things, instead she bowed to him and left without another word. She would explain to the queen that Aemond did not wish to see her, and she would return once he was healed.
However, it was not the queen she found in the corridor.
“Troubles in paradise?” The elder prince was leaning against a wall, a half finished bottle of wine in one hand and a goblet on the other. On his face, an intoxicated smile
Elora pursed her lips together, lacking the patience to deal with his teasing, she started to walk down the corridor. “He has suffered a terrible wound, and is in great pain.” She speaks back at him, hearing his wobbly footsteps follow her. “Your brother needs patience.”
The boy scoffs, wrapping an arm around the girl, she imagined it was to better steady himself. “Little Aem needs a lot of things.” His warm breath stinks of alcohol and the words are slurred in his tongue. “Patience is the least of them.” He takes a swig from the bottle, as the hand with the goblet is on her shoulder.
She looks to the side and examines the cup dripping onto her dress, finding it oddly familiar. “Well, you’re not helping by drinking every bottle you find.” The girl spits at him, escaping his grasp which makes him stumble. She turns on her heels and looks at him, furrowed brows and crimson cheeks. “Or listening to his conversations.” Her accusation makes his eyes widen in amusement. “What were you doing standing outside his door anyways?”
Taking a deep breath and wearing a sarcastic expression, he walks closer to her. “You see, I wasn’t really there when the ‘cutting eye out’ situation happened.” His voice tones down the severity of the episode. “So as the good brother that I am, I decided to stay close by and make sure I’m available if he needs me.” His proud look doesn’t match his foolish explanation as he gestures to himself.
Rolling her eyes at his nonsense, she nods in fake agreement. “So return to your task and let me be, will you?” Another time, she tries to escape him, but even in his drunkenness he follows her with ease.
“I am doing my duty.” Aegon speaks with a fake shocked tone. “Tending to my brother’s interests is also one of my assignments.” His wink is followed by a gallant smile. If he was someone else and this was any other moment, Elora would have agreed he looked handsome. But this was her annoying brother-in-law mocking his scarred brother, so the boldness only made her rage.
Had she been born a boy, she could just punch him right away and call it a sparring match that she would probably be dismissed. For a girl to hit a man was a showcase of her own lack of education, to punch one was an unthinkable act. But there in the lonesome hallway of the palace with only the victim as witness, who would really know.
So when her fist landed on his jaw, she blamed on instinct, on emotion, on grief maybe. And even as her mind was screaming at her about how bad the consequences of this would be, she had to admit it did feel good. The look of bewilderment on his face was worth the possible punishment she would have to suffer. Her heart was beating so fast with the adrenaline that she feared it might burst. It was the smile that followed that ended her small moment of glory. The satisfaction in his eyes as he cleaned the blood dripping down his chin.
“Impressive.” There was a genuine pride in his eyes. The look of someone who discovered something new. “Has little Aem taught you to punch?” Her striked had apparently sobered him up, as he suddenly stood up to his full height, way firmer than she had ever seen him.
This was it, the moment to flee. To run to find the queen before he did. To beg for her forgiveness for laying a hand on her precious son, to beg her father to help her escape before she is imprisoned for treason. But for some unknown reason, her feet would not move, only her lips.
“Does it really surprise you so much that I know how to defend myself?” The tone of her voice was so much different than what she usually sounded like. So frustrated, so impolite, for the first time she sounded her age. “Or are you just not used to having a girl actually tell you to piss off?” Elora didn’t even know where she had heard those words, or how she dared to repeat them. But that was Aegon, just prince Aegon. And from this moment on she chose not to care of what he thought of her.
He chuckles, a red tint on his bottom teeth. “Oh no, I wouldn’t expect less of a lioness.” Through his mockery, his eyes glint in amusement, and the lady can’t possibly understand what kind of person enjoys being hit.
Rolling her eyes at his stupidly handsome grin, Elora storms out of the hallway, surprised to not hear his footsteps behind her, and walks to the chamber she was already used to. All of her belongings were already there, far more modest dresses than from her first stay. More fit to a caring bride, as her father said. Locking the door to avoid any more strange interactions, Elora hid in those chambers for long hours, watching the sun go down as she was lost in her thoughts.
‘Aemond was hurt. He is still healing.’ She tried to convince herself. ‘He will get better. He won’t change. He is still Aemond.’ Her thoughts consumed her. She knew that bearing such a scar must take its toll, she knew he never got along with his nephews and that he wasn’t necessarily affectionate, but he was not bad. Not to her. It didn’t matter that he looked different, or that he now was the rider of the greatest dragon in the world, he was still him. She chose to believe that.
This night, however, was not the night in which she would be proven right. The queen informed her that Aemond now had all his meals in his chambers, and that he wouldn’t be joining them for dinner for the next few days at least. The new information worried her. She was barely allowed to see him in his room, and now she feared she wouldn’t see him anywhere else. How was she supposed to help him if he refused to meet her?
Elora did her best to not frown too noticeably during dinner. She barely listened to the conversations around her. Nodding when she had to, smiling when her father spoke to her, but how she wished to be anywhere else. There were whispers of a wedding, probably not hers. Not when she was still considered too young, especially not after her dear groom was maimed and in self-isolation in his rooms. But a prince was to be married.
Aegon made sure to arrive fashionably late to dinner, smiling happily like there wasn’t a deep cut on his lip. His eyes glowed in contrast to the purple tint on his chin, his gaze dark like a shark. Elora was his prey tonight, and now she was trapped. The queen was fast to question him about his bruises, her tone a strange mix of concern and disappointment.
“Oh, this?” He shrugged, filling his cup and taking Aemond’s usual seat, right in front of her, burning the lady with his eyes. “I must have fallen somewhere.” He smirked the entire time he talked, keeping his violet eyes on the girl as he downed his cup.
No one else seemed to notice his strange behaviour, perhaps already used to his weird demeanour and nonchalant way of talking. But she knew of his intentions, and even though her temper screamed at her to lunge forward and strangle him right in front of everyone, she smiled emotionless to him, ignoring his teasings.
“Drinking already, dear brother?” Her kind tone was laced with poisonous rivalry. “No wonder you fall so often.” Violet and green crash against each other in fierce battle as both try to hold their gaze the longest, neither willing to retreat.
The princess Helaena, sitting beside her brother, seemed to be the only one to notice the tension in the table, momentarily looking up from the caterpillar she had crawling on her hand. “Fire tests gold.” She mutters to no one in particular, returning to her lonely thoughts.
Both the prince and the lady turn their eyes to Helaena, both seeming confused by her words. Elora opened her lips to speak, but was quickly shaken out of her questions when she heard Aegon snort out a laugh, putting even more wine in his cup. “Yes, of course, little sister.” He responds in mock sympathy, turning to her and watching the green bug circling her fingers. “It surely does.” With his body still turned to the princess, he returns his attention to Elora, raising his eyebrows to her.
Her expression on the other hand grows even more serious, offended by the way he spoke to Helaena, wondering how siblings could be so mean to each other. “What does she mean?” She asks with genuine curiosity, her eyes travelling from one Targaryen to the other, waiting for any sort of explanation.
“Who knows?” Aegon shrugs, turning his goblet of wine and drinking it all, wiping away some stray droplets with the sleeves of his doublet. “I don’t even think she knows.” He leans forward on the table, pointing to his sister in a joking way. He supports himself on his elbows as he bends over the dinner table, getting awfully close to the lady. “My advice is to just ignore all the weird shit she says, or else you might…”
His whispered mockery is quickly interrupted by queen Alicent, who clears her throat to call his attention. Both of the children turned to the place where the adults were seated, the monarchs and Lord Jason watching the strange interaction in disapproval. Elora froze the moment her eyes met her father’s, the clear disappointment from being caught acting so immodestly, her face burning red in shame. The prince only gives a sarcastic frown, slowly returning to his seat on the table. She couldn’t help but be bothered by the difference in their reactions to be openly scolded. The way he could afford to not care about it, how his reputation could be dirty and tainted and filled with the worst rumours, and his position would remain secure. Aegon could be the most devious, vulgar and indecent prince in the world, but the Seven Kingdoms had to bow to his wish no matter what. She was a good lady, she did all she could to be a decent lady, the perfect daughter, and now the smallest fault could destroy her prospects of a future. Her rage grew as she watched him continue to drink, wearing his bruises like they were honourable, teasing his sister and the poor maids that had to serve him.
Aegon Targaryen was the one person she despised. She would make sure he knew that.
***
Her father returned to Lannisport the next morning. Lyonel needed his father close, Elora could survive on her own. She said her goodbyes in the palace, not having the courage to watch him embark the carriage and disappear from her sight. The walls of the Red Keep were familiar to her, but now they lacked the warmth she had gotten used to it. The idea of having to endure the royal family without being able to shield herself behind Aemond was terrifying. His brother was more careless with his games, eager to drag her name through the mud along with his. The other women in court should become her refuge, queen Alicent was always kind to her before, hopefully that hadn’t changed. Helaena was a quiet child, but she had a gentle nature, surely they could get along if she tried. Aemond would have to get out of that room eventually. He would come to her eventually. And things would go back to normal and she would be the future princess again, like she was always meant to be.
It was on one of her lonely walks among the numerous silent halls that she stumbled upon the queen. Alicent Hightower, in her dark green dress, looking down as she floats through the castle like a ghost, her beautiful eyes like molten bronze filled with a sorrow much deeper than Elora had ever seen.
“My queen.” She curtsies kindly, trying to waken the woman from her mindless trance.
The queen’s face lights up momentarily, slowly approaching the young girl. “Lady Elora. Enjoying your stay?” Her kindness sounds more like a procedure than a genuine concern. The question itself was out of place. How could the girl enjoy anything that palace had to offer when her betrothed was abed with lifelong scar across his face.
“Very much, Your Grace.” Her answer doesn't give away her growing turmoil and they start walking side by side. “Although I cannot say it is as merry as my previous visit to the Keep.” She measures just the right amount of sadness she is allowed to show in her tone, her attention drawn to each and every reaction from the queen.
“Yes, I fear Aemond is not capable of keeping you company as often now.” Alicent frantically toyed with her fingers, the skin around her nails being the poor victims of her anguish. “I hope you can find some solace elsewhere. At least until my son feels disposed again.” Her voice did not change to deliver a single word, the phrase detached from the mouth that speaks it.
The two of them shared that monotone way of speaking, hiding the way they both wanted to scream their frustration into the world. For a moment, Elora gazed from the queen to the tapestry behind them. A handwoven picture of King Jaehaerys with his wife Alysanne and their many children. The portrait did not show emotion, neither did the living queen in front of her. Maybe this was the fate of all the women in that place, to marry a great man, act as a dutiful wife and become the symbol of decency across the kingdom. And still, their eyes looked hollow. Poor queen Alicent, had her son maimed in his own home and the one responsible walked out unpunished as she was not allowed to grieve openly. The queen Alysanne, Good Queen as she was called, suffered for decades losing child after child, only consoled by the fact that she loved her husband. Poor Lady Aeryn Targaryen, sent away to Lannisport to marry a stranger and be forced to bear his children, only accompanied by the same beast that would eventually kill her. How many women like her mother had the same destiny that was being written for Elora in this same moment.
“Come with me to my embroidery room.” The queen's voice awakens her from her trance. “My daughter sometimes accompanies me there, perhaps you could as well.” Her gentle smile is followed by her arm linking with Elora’s, an affectionate act that was probably an attempt to comfort them both.
The lady agrees with a polite nod, and the queen quickly leads her across the hallways. Every now and then she would comment on a piece of artwork or an antique treasure that adorned the walls, and even though the girl responded with some enthusiasm, they both knew none of them was actually interested in that conversation. It doesn’t take long before they arrive at the embroidery room, a maid quickly moving to open the door for them. Princess Helaena was already there, stabbing her needle back and forth in what appeared to be a blue beetle, not raising her eyes even when the other women arrived. Alicent points to a seat for the young girl that clings to her arm, a servant not hesitating to bring her a piece of fabric and some thread. Elora looks down on the blank cloth, wondering what she should make. She lacked the practice to do the intricate designs that were on the queen’s dresses, and she wasn’t much an admirer of bugs like the princess. Looking for some inspiration, she scans the crowded room they were in. Shelves from the floor to the ceiling, stuffed with all the richest kinds of fabric, and threads with more colours than the rainbow. Not only sewing tools, but also for paintings and musical instruments scattered across the atelier. Her eyes landed on the big harp that rested abandoned near a window, the sight making her breath hitch. The specks of dust illuminated by sunlight were almost like a ghostly figure over the chords, their invisible hands playing melancholic notes through the breeze.
“Do you play?” Helaena asks without taking her eyes off her work, sounding slightly dreamy.
Elora swallows dry. ‘I did’, that was the real answer, but that would create another question, and she wouldn’t answer that one so easily. “I don’t.” She answered politely, she could end the matter there, but for some reason more words spilled out of her. “My mother used to play.” Her confession came out weakly, and a grim atmosphere came down into the room.
Alicent shifted on her seat, putting down her handiwork to look at the little girl in front of her. “I fear I never had the chance of meeting your mother, until it was too late.” Her voice sounded comforting, her words however, were not. “But my husband has fond memories of his cousin.” The queen tried to brighten the girl’s mind, receiving a sad smile in response.
“Yes, my mother avoided leaving Casterly Rock after her marriage.” Elora answered shyly, defending her mother’s absence in the Keep. “She avoided even going out of her chambers, really. She would usually only leave her rooms to go to the hill where her dragon lived.” Her brows creased with the memories of her estranged mother, a ghost in her home before death even came for her.
The air became thicker in there, a cold gust of wind making the lady shiver. Helaena stopped what she was doing, gazing into nothing while her mother was entirely too aware of the situation. Aeryn Targaryen was not an easy subject for anyone, especially for those involved in her story. A mad girl, sent away to be married, killed by her own dragon. Definitely not the most agreeable conversation for ladies doing their needlework. But now she had slithered her way into that room with the other women, and she was never one to go unnoticed.
“My mother loved music, always did. But hated all other lady-like activities. Embroidery too.” Elora didn’t know why she kept talking about that woman, She didn’t know more about her than the queen herself, she was a stranger. A memory that haunted her dreams since she was little. “That’s why she never taught me, I think.” She tries to dismiss her own sombre spirit, joking about the poorly woven lines on her cloth.
The exact moment when queen Alicent raised from her chair to approach the girl, she could not tell, but now she stood close to her, studying the uneven lines of thread she made. “Maybe I can help with that.” Her touch was warm when she enveloped the lady’s hands, guiding her movements with the needle. “It’s truly just a matter or practice , you’ll get used to it.” The lines became straighter, more delicate and more firm at the same time. The design however was still a mystery, aimless lines of red and green woven in a strange braid.
A light breeze kept coming in through the window, moving the thin strings of the harp to create an eerie sound, the strands of light passing through reminding the girl of the woman who was supposed to play those cords. She weaved and weaved, a ghostly dance of thread creating abstract patterns on the linen. And she would have covered the entire piece if not for the queen’s next words.
“Perhaps you could work on your dress for the wedding.” Alicent’s voice travelled around the room, forcing Elora’s finger to her needle.
Covering the scarlet drop on her fingertip, the young girl turned her gaze to her. “My wedding is still far away. I still have time to think of my dress.” She tried to hide the weak trembling in her voice, but something told her that the queen could feel it.
“Your wedding is still away, yes. But not my daughter’s.” Alicent’s voice carried a grief only the mother of a princess can feel, and Helaena’s eyes filled with sorrow. “It was my husband’s idea… to hasten the ceremony. Have some joy after such grim times in the family.” It was the queen’s turn to spill her anguish, the look on her face that of an spectator of an execution.
Elora’s eyes turned to the princess’, distracted by the colourful gardens in her frame. The purple of her eyes in deep thought, trying to be anywhere but in that room. How could such a small and fragile thing like Helaena be married so soon? Her face still lingering to those childlike features, would soon be the face of a married woman. It was an execution really, to end the girl’s life so early, tie her to a man and make her into an accessory. Elora knew what happened to married princesses, as did Alicent, wed to the king at such a tender age. The girl was in shock, how could the king allow his youngest daughter to suffer such a fate so early in life.
“To whom, may I ask?” Was the only response the lady could give to such news. ‘Hopefully someone not too cruel’, she thought.
“Aegon.” The queen’s answer was dry, bitter and cold. A physical shiver took over the Targaryen princess. No one commented on it. “In the tradition of Valyria.”
“Also the king’s choice, I believe.” The girl almost bit her tongue when she uttered such a question, knowing it was too insolent of someone in her position to question a king’s decision.
No answer came this time, only a forced smile on Alicent’s lips, her eyes reddened as she returned her focus to the embroidery. Helaena shivered again, stronger this time.
A servant closed the windows of the room, but the cold lingered.
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