WE FELL IN LOVE IN OCTOBER || b.targaryen
SUMMARY: “princess (name) velaryon was betrothed to her brother, prince jacaerys, but rumours say that she preferred a different sort of fruit to the one offered by men…”
PAIRING: baela targaryen x fem!velaryon reader
AUTHOR’S NOTES: i haven’t seen a baela x reader, it’s actually criminal. she’s so pretty <3. the reader is a velaryon by law but is actually a bastard (you guys can choose who the reader’s father is, like if the reader’s dad is ser criston, daemon, ser harwin or anyone else). sorry if my description of a woc isn’t that good, it’s my first time writing for baela.
WARNINGS: homophobia, incest (sip size), mentions of arranged marriage, cousin incest, typical westerosi shenanigans, forbidden love, baela being a sweetheart, kissing, discussions of infertility etc
YOUR FINGERS RAN ACROSS THE INITIAL CARVED INTO THE STONE OF THE RED KEEP’S WALL. B + (Your Initial), outlined by a heart. You smiled at it. It’d been there for six years, untouched by any other forces. This was the first time in six years that you’d stepped foot in the Red Keep.
Of course, the reason marking your family’s return to the Red Keep was not one of joy. Vaemond Velaryon was protesting your younger brother Lucerys’ claim to the Driftwood Throne.
You played along for your family but you knew that he had no right to inherit Driftmark. Nor did you and Jacaerys have any right to one day inherit the Iron Throne. You were bastards. Despite your mother firmly denying it, you knew. Everyone knew.
Jacaerys approached you and smiled. You smiled back. You loved Jace, he was your older brother, by a year. You both knew that you would one day marry each other, but you couldn’t help but feeling no romantic feelings for him.
It’d always been this way. Whenever the discussion of marriage came up, you always felt this…distaste for it. Your mother said it was normal to feel like that. But, you never fawned over Lords and their sons like most of the young maidens in Westeros.
You, on the other hand, fawned silently over other young maidens your age. Including one Baela Targaryen. Your cousin. And, technically, your stepsister. You’d been in love with Baela for six years since you’d comforted her at her mother’s funeral.
Baela was the most beautiful maiden to you. With her white curls, her lilac eyes, her chocolate-coloured skin, her full lips. Gods, you could describe her for hours. You’d communicated back and forth for years, writing a seemingly endless horde of letters back and forth. You planned to ride through the clouds on dragon back, with her on Moondancer and you on Vyrax.
“Can you believe that we are back?” Jace asked you, pulling you from your trance-like daydream, “Back in the Red Keep?”.
You shrugged. “No. No,” you shortly answered, moving your hair back slightly, “It is…strange. I mean, we are in the place of our births…”.
Jace smiled softly at you, squeezing your hand. “Everyone is looking at us,” Luke said, breaking the conversation between you two. You thanked the Gods.
Your older brother turned to comfort your younger brother with a smile. “Ignore them,” Jace said, “You will inherit Driftmark when the Sea Snake passes”.
Luke silenced him with a look. “You know very well of the true nature of my birth,” Luke hissed, his tone quietened, “Of your’s, (Name)’s and Joffrey’s. We have no right to any of this,”.
(Name) glanced at her younger brother, adjusting her pale blue cloak that hung across her shoulders. “We mustn’t speak of such things here,” (Name) instructed softly, “We mustn’t…”.
YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING UNDER THE WEIRWOOD TREE AFTER THE ORDEAL IN THE COURTYARD. You always liked the Weirwood Tree with its purple-red coloured leaves that fell in the autumn and the face that resided on the tree. It was a source of solace and comfort in your childhood.
You didn’t feel at home in the Red Keep. Nor on Dragonstone. Sure, you loved your family. You loved them dearly and held them close to your heart. But you felt like a complete outlander in your own home. Like you didn’t belong. You stuck out like a sore thumb between your three brothers.
You tried to actively avoid the factions in the Red Keep. The Blacks and the Greens. You wore your father Laenor’s colours, blue and silver. Laenor Velaryon may not have sired you, but you loved him dearly and viewed him as your father. He felt the same about you.
You knew that he was not truly dead. He was alive. In the Free Cities, with his lover Ser Qarl. You were happy that he lived a life of freedom, away from the conflict of Westeros, and you desired the same.
You’d also communicated with your distant great-aunt, Saera Targaryen, and talked about going to her make-shift kingdom on Voltanis. It seemed perfect when you wanted to escape.
“(Name)?” A sugar-sweet voice called. You turned around, eyes widening and your heartbeat quickening. In a darker blue dress, with her hair flowing down her chest in silver curls, was her. Your Baela. Your sweet Baela, “You may not recognise me…but I am-”.
“Baela,” you immediately answered, tears beginning to burn in your eyes, and a rare happy smile pricking up on your features, matching her own smile, her beautiful smile, “I would recognise you anyway, cousin. It has been too long!”.
You balled your skirts into your fists and skipped over to Baela and embracing her into a hug. Her hand petted your hair, as you held her so tight, holding her close. “I have missed you wholeheartedly,” you smiled, as the hug broke.
You stood in the garden with Baela in your arms, just enough apart to see each other’s faces. “I have been adamantly looking for you,” Baela confessed, “Ever since I arrived with my Grandmother. I was hoping we could reunite and catch up on all the things we missed”.
You smiled at her, a toothless smile but a smile nonetheless. “I would love nothing more,” you honestly responded. You both broke away from the hug, holding each other’s hands, as you walked over to the Weirwood Tree.
HOURS DRIFTED BY IN AN INSTANT AND YOU AND BAELA LAUGHED AND TALKED UNDERNEATH THE WEIRWOOD TREE. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a mixed glow of orange, pink, purple and yellow across the sky.
“This is nice,” you confessed, resting your head on Baela’s shoulder, “It seems like with all the horrid conflict between the Blacks and the Greens just disappears on a lovely evening such as this,”.
Baela hummed in agreement. You loved sitting out here with her that evening. So did she. You moved your head off her shoulder, to look her in the eyes. “I agree,” Baela responded, “It seems the world is at peace under this tree. Would you not wish to be free of the conflict between your mother and Queen Alicent? To escape anywhere, to be free? To fly across the Narrow City and live in Essos, the Free Cities, Volantis and see the ruins of Old Valyria?”.
You turned to look at Baela, smiling softly. “I’d love nothing more,” you sighed, “But I have expectations. Many of them. I have to marry Jacaerys. And bare him children. And become Queen when my mother passes. But I do not wish for that life. I wish for the life you just told me of,”.
Suddenly, catching you off-guard, Baela leaned in and kissed you. On the lips. Your eyes widened before kissing her back, cupping her cheek. You both pulled away at the same time, grinning and panting. “I think I like you,” you smiled, “More than I should, Baela,”.
“That is amusing,” Baela responded, smiling at you and glancing at your through her eyelashes, “I think I like you more than I should too, (Name),”.
THE LATER EVENING BROUGHT A FAMILY DINNER THAT WAS TEEMING WITH CHAOS AND INSULTS. Rhaenyra was growing worried when you hadn’t shown up for supper or the hearing for Luke’s claim to the Driftwood Throne.
She paced around her chambers, also learning that Baela was absent from both the hearing and supper. Nobody had seen the two of you anywhere. There was a brief knock at the doors of her chambers, with Rhaenyra beckoning whoever knocked inside.
Jace stormed into his mother’s chambers, following by Luke. “Boys?” Rhaenyra questioned, her eyebrows furrowed, “Whatever is the matter? Have either of you seen your sister of Baela? They have been missing since the mid-morrow,”.
Jace handed Rhaenyra a piece of parchment. “(Name) is gone,” Jace answered in a clipped tone, “Her chambers have been ransacked, as have Baela’s. Apparently, she is in love with Baela and has ran away with her so they can be together without judgement,”.
Rhaenyra’s eyes scanned the letter, tears welling in her eyes, as she looked at the black letters written in her daughter’s hand across the parchment paper, disbelief weighing in her heart.
I apologise for how this letter may sound, but I this is how I depart from you all. I felt like I was living a lie in the Red Keep and on Dragonstone, so I have fled from King’s Landing with Baela. Please do not come and look for us. We want this. I must confess that I am truly in love with Baela and I always have been. I have no romantic feelings for Jace and have only ever loved him as a sister should love her brother, platonically. I cannot be Queen, nor will I subject myself to a life that I do not wish to live. I apologise for any strife my departure may have caused, but know that I truly mean it when I say that I am sorry beyond measure. Please, I beg that you let me live my life away from the conflict of the Blacks and the Greens and this dance of dragons, with my beloved Baela. I am safe and I am alright, do not worry about that. If I might have stayed, I would have been living a lie and denying to myself that I wanted a life as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and being a mother. I could never be a Queen and I can never be a mother, truthfully. I am barren, according to the Maesters so I can never have children or become pregnant. I am sorry that I lied and I hope one day we may reunite.
Rhaenyra was shocked, to say the least. She felt terrible knowing that her daughter lived like that for years without her knowing. “Should we send for troops to find her?” Jace asked.
Rhaenyra shook her head. “No,” she denied, shaking off the idea, “No. We shall let your sister live in peace, the life she desires. She is happy now,”.
