Summary: Death. Chaos. Birth. Choices. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who is still keeping up with this series. I know it's been slow going at it but I promise I will finish it! Only one more chapter to go for "Book one" so to speak. "Book two" will cover season three and the end of our story. I can't promise when that will be out but I hope to have chapter 12 out by the end of August.
You rose wordlessly.
You knew what you had to do.
“See to the body,” you ordered.
“What of Alicent? Aegon?” Otto questioned.
“The Queen has gone into her labors, Aegon is with her and they are watched over by Ser Erryk.”
You said then turned around to face him.
“She is not yet at full term,” Otto replied, concern on his features.
“I have to go,” you said then pushed past him, leaving him sputtering and in shock.
As you marched down the hallways Ser Criston, his white cloak soaked red- no doubt with Larys’ blood, rushed up to you.
He apologized profusely for what happened. He should have been on watch but the matter in the black cells took longer than he had anticipated.
“Were your orders completed?” You questioned.
Criston nodded.
“Did he suffer?”
Criston nodded again. “Immensly.”
“Good. See to Aegon and Alicent’s safety,” you replied and started again down the hall.
“Your Grace, where are you going?”
“I cannot fight a war on two fronts. I will return upon the morrow,” you informed him.
“I must go with you, I am your Kingsguard.”
You turned around to face Criston.
“You are to follow my orders. Watch over the heir and the Queen,” you commanded.
Criston bowed his head. “As you wish your Grace.”
Then he excused himself and walked the opposite way down the hall.
You rushed past the chaos of the castle and slinked out of the keep via the hidden passageways.
A servant saddled a horse for you and you rode off, alone, towards the Dragonpit.
No longer were you to be cautious and even keeled.
Your uncle had killed your son.
No doubt in retaliation for Aemond’s mistake.
But it did not matter now.
Too much blood had been spilled.
You climbed atop Vermithor and set out towards the South.
-
You rode nonstop towards Sunspear with fierce and icy determination, the image of your slain son burned into your mind’s eye.
You would handle Daemon in time, now you had to nip the situation to the South in the bud. You could not fight a war on two fronts and Dorne did not have dragons.
Still, they were formidable in their own right so while you rode hot and ready to burn Sunspear down in misguided retribution your better judgement prevailed as you neared the castle.
It was daybreak when you arrived.
Your arrival was a surprise and so you were able to touch down without strife. You called out for Qoren Martell.
The servants invited you inside, to break fast over bread and wine, but you declined. You ordered for him to meet you outside.
When there was lingering hesitation you encouraged Vermithor to growl and roar.
That shook them enough, Prince Qoren walked out of the castle to greet you near the gardens and orchards of Sunspear.
You climbed down from your dragon and approached him.
“King (y/n), what an unexpected pleasure.”
“I wish I could say the same,” you spat, displeasure clear as day. “I am here to inform you that Princess Coryanne is free of her betrothal to my son.”
“I don’t understand, your Grace?”
“My son was slain mere hours ago. Your daughter has no man to marry, therefore your house is free of our proposed union.”
“My condolences, that is most distressing news.”
“Spare me the feigned pity. You delayed the wedding time and time again. I no longer care to divine the reason why. I am here to demand an answer on where your loyalty lies between my uncle and I.”
“Ah yes, I heard word of Prince Daemon’s actions against you.” Qoren stroked his beard pensively. “I will be frank, your Grace. The House of Martell does not wish to meddle in the affairs of the House of the dragon.”
“Perhaps I was not clear,” you replied evenly then turned towards Vermithor. “Dracarys,” you commanded.
Vermithor’s fire reigned down upon the fruitful orchards of Sunspear. Then he roared, the ground shaking from his thunder.
Prince Qoren looked at you in horror.
“You are either with me or against me. Which will it be?” You demanded.
“How dare you?” Qoren questioned, aghast.
“I am the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. I am lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. I can either be your ally and help Dorne flourish or I will be your enemy and have my dragon burn down your home and all who reside in it,” you threatened.
Qoren’s face turned red with anger but he shrank back in fear when Vermithor let out another roar.
He lowered his gaze then sighed.
“Your Grace,” he began and placed placating hands up towards you. “I have nothing but respect for you, you are testament to the strength and ferocity of women. You are the greatest King your kingdom has ever seen….but,” Qoren swallowed hard before he continued. “My house cannot be a part of a possible second reign of Maegor the cruel.”
The blood in your veins boiled upon hearing his accusation. You didn’t need him to spell it out for you. He meant Baelor. He believed your youngest son, the product of magick, would be the second coming of the realm’s worst ruler.
Before you could reply Qoren continued.
“I mean no offense, your Grace. As an act of goodwill, we will end the Triarchy's endless efforts in the Stepstones and secure it for generations to come. We will stay neutral in the matters between you and Prince Daemon, and provide no aid to either side.”
You huffed. “Would you take such an insulting offer if our roles were opposite?”
Qoren grimaced. “It is as best an offer as I can provide.”
You crossed your arms against your chest. You had hoped to secure men and arms but it seemed clear you would have to suffice with neutrality as you had no interest in ongoing conflict with House Martell.
But you could not be seen giving in so easily.
So you cleared your throat.
“As I wish for continued goodwill between our Houses I will accept your paltry offering.”
Qoren’s shoulders relaxed.
“However, I will take Princess Coryanne back to King’s Landing with me as my ward.”
“Your Grace-,” Qoren interjected.
“To ensure that you will not provide any material support to my uncle and end your support of the Triarchy.”
Anger blazed on Qoren’s features. He opened his mouth to protest but a quick hand to Vermithor’s skin brought the anger to a simmer.
“We shall ready her for travel and see that a wheelhouse sets out as soon as possible.”
“That is not sufficient,” you replied and tugged on your riding gloves. “I will take her now, upon dragonback.”
“Dragonback? Your Grace?” Prince Qoren was flabbergasted.
Though he wished to discuss further you informed him that you were done talking. You would take Coryanne with you or Vermithor would gorge himself on those who resided in the Keep.
So Prince Qoren had no choice but to acquiesce. They brought out the princess and you instructed her to mirror your actions as you climbed back upon Vermithor’s back.
She struggled but she made it up upon Vermithor. You tied the ropes around her to secure her onto the saddle. The young girl was positively white with fear.
You wanted to soften and console her- but you could no longer afford to be the kind and thoughtful King you once were.
Now you had to be tough and decisive.
So you sat down in your saddle and tugged on the reins for Vermithor to rise.
You rode back towards King’s Landing without a second thought, the tears of a frightened princess threatening to break your icy resolve.
-
You were absolutely exhausted upon your return to the Keep, and now with a Princess of Dorne in tow.
The chaos of the Keep had quelled and the whole town was on high alert.
Rat catchers were strung up, you noted as you rode back to the Keep.
No doubt Aegon’s doing.
But you honestly didn’t care.
Served them right.
You instructed servants to show Coryanne to the room that would be her quarters. Thankfully they always had rooms readied for guests.
Coryanne did not speak a word to you as she left.
Again, you honestly didn’t care.
You were exhausted down to your very bones. You had never ridden day and night for as long as you had.
It was dusk when you returned.
Your first concern was Alicent.
So with the little energy you had left you raced up to your shared quarters.
You hurried when you got up the stairs and heard Alicent’s cries.
The guards stepped aside as you neared the door.
You entered to find chaos.
Maesters converged in a corner of the room and were engaged in fierce discussion. Midwives milled around the room, preparing items and dabbing Alicent’s forehead with a clean rag.
Alicent’s eyes landed on you.
“Traitor,” she called out.
A wave of shame washed over you.
“Ali-”
“You left me!” Alicent cried out in between labor pains that caused her head to fall back and eyes close.
“I had business to conduct,” you tried to explain.
Alicent shook her head, her auburn curls matted onto her porcelain skin- sweat dribbling down her skin faster than the midwives could clean up.
“You swore to protect me and you left me,” Alicent repeated.
You took cautious steps towards her. “I’m sorry my love. I wouldn’t have left you if I didn’t have to.”
Alicent stared at you with daggers in her eyes but after a moment her gaze softened.
Tears welled in her eyes.
“I needed you,” she whispered.
You ran to her side, the midwives moved away as you neared, and sat down next to where she laid on the bed.
“I’m sorry. But I’m here now, and I won’t leave you again,” you swore.
Alicent buried her face in the crook between your shoulder and neck.
“I’m scared (y/n),” she confessed. “All the other births were quick, and full term.”
You soothed her back with one hand.
“Everything will be alright. Helaena foresaw only greatness,” you reassured her.
Alicent scoffed then doubled over with pain. She grabbed her bulging stomach.
You held her through the waves of pain.
Then Maester Orwyle pulled you aside to inform you that if the Queen did not give birth soon you would have to make a difficult choice. They would have to cut the babe out of Alicent’s womb in order to save it.
Visions of Queen Aemma’s death swirled in your mind’s eye.
Maester Orwyle continued, he told you that if they did not cut Alicent to save the baby both their lives may be forfeit if they waited too long.
You looked back at your wife.
She was caught in another wave of labor pains, tears streaming down the sides of her face.
You didn’t want to see her in such pain for so long.
But could you really make the choice to end her life to save your child’s?
You swallowed hard and asked Orwyle for more time.
He told you the decision could be delayed a bit but not much longer.
So you left him and returned to Alicent’s side.
You comforted her and held her as the pains continued.
-
Not too long after a messenger informed you that the small council had convened. You told him to have the council come to your quarters. You would not leave Alicent alone again.
The small council obeyed your orders and gathered around the table near the balcony.
They discussed the realm’s updates in between Alicent’s cries.
Everyone was visibly uncomfortable.
So you just dismissed everyone but Otto.
Once they were gone you turned to him.
He cleared his throat and began.
“We learned that Aemond’s killers were ratcatchers instructed to kill him by orders of Prince Daemon. A son for a son.”
Rage simmered just underneath your skin.
You asked Otto how they found out the truth.
“I have a source,” Otto replied mysteriously.
“Do you trust him?”
“Her,” Otto clarified. “And no, but I do trust that the information I paid for is accurate. She helped with the other delicate incident.”
You raised your brows. “Wow. I must thank this mystery woman at once for her services to the crown.”
“As you wish, your grace.”
Then, Otto continued, he asked about the Dornish princess. You explained to him that Dorne was a lost cause but Coryanne would be your ward to ensure they did not ally with Daemon.
He sighed and regretted the path ahead would now be more difficult as the loss of Aemond evened the odds.
Your shoulders sank as exhaustion seeped into your bones.
You needed to sleep.
But there was no time to.
Alicent needed you.
The realm needed you.
What you needed didn’t matter.
You instructed Otto to ready their men for war and begin the other preparations. Such an attack upon the royal family would not go unpunished.
Otto told you he would do so at once and see to Aemond’s funeral.
You asked him how Aegon was faring.
“Rudderless and angry, but the death of Aemond’s killers seemed to lessen the anger.”
After he left you returned to Alicent’s side.
The various labor pains left her spent and she was now soundly asleep.
So you took the moment of reprieve to center yourself.
You looked down at Alicent’s pregnant stomach. You placed a gentle hand atop her navel.
Small feet kicked up at you.
Your heart sank with dread.
You had to make a choice. You could choose your son, or you could choose to lose them both.
What compelled you, you didn’t know, but you left for the sept.
Once there you knelt down in front of the statue of the mother and you lit a candle.
You prayed for Alicent’s health and safety.
You swallowed hard.
You prayed for the mother to save Alicent.
Even if it meant Baelon would die.
If you had to choose, you chose Alicent.
You would always choose Alicent.
Tears fell down your face as you finished your prayers to the mother.
It felt awful to admit.
But it was the truth.
You loved Alicent and needed her by your side.
Whatever the cost.
Afterwards you moved to the statue of the father, lit another candle, and prayed for guidance then to the warrior for strength.
The realm needed you to be strong and decisive. It needed you sure.
A servant girl ran in to the sept to inform you that the Queen was not doing too well.
So you ran back to your quarters to find Alicent’s legs spread apart, a midwife between them, and blood soaked on the bed sheets.
You paled.
“You left me again,” Alicent cried out.
You ran to her side and held her hand.
“I was in the sept. I was praying,” you explained.
Alicent’s brows knit together. “Really?”
You nodded.
She softened. “But you do not believe in the Gods.”
You brought her hand up to your lips and kissed her knuckles.
“You do. And I believe in you.”
Tears continued to stream down the sides of her face.
Maester Orwyle cleared his throat behind you.
You turned towards him.
“It is time, your Grace, a choice must be made,” he explained.
You swallowed hard then looked back to Alicent.
You explained what they wanted to do, who they wanted you to choose.
But you told her the decision was hers.
It was her body.
You would not violate her.
Alicent buried her face in your chest, she murmured something you could not hear, and before you could ask her to repeat herself she was overcome with a fresh wave of pains.
She cried out and she pushed but the babe did not appear.
Maester Orwyle cleared his throat again.
You looked at Alicent.
“What do you want me to do Ali?”
Alicent met your gaze.
“I trust you.”
Stress washed over you.
“No, please don’t-”
“Whatever you think is best, my love,” Alicent interjected.
The choice was now solely yours.
You looked at Alicent’s stomach then back up at Alicent.
You started to panic.
There wasn’t enough air in the room.
You didn’t want to lose Alicent.
She was your love.
She was your Queen.
“I love you,” you said aloud.
Alicent smiled at you, smiled through the pain.
“I love you too,” she replied.
You brought your lips against hers and savored the feeling, the warmth of her.
You could hear Orwyle urging you for an answer behind you, and the midwives calling for Alicent to push harder.
But it all fell away as you continued to kiss her.
Then Alicent pulled away and leaned her forehead against yours.
“I trust you,” she breathed once more.
So you swallowed hard and looked over at Orwyle.
Alicent cried out as she pushed.
You balled your fists and opened your mouth to speak but stopped as the midwife at the foot of the bed called out.
“I see the head!”
You turned back towards Alicent, relief clear on your face.
You encouraged her to keep pushing.
She held your hand tight as she pushed herself to near exhaustion.
The seconds seemed to drag on as you watched Alicent exert herself more and more.
Then during one laborious push, Alicent’s eyes rolled towards the back of her head and she went limp in your arms.
“It’s a boy,” the midwife cried out in joy.
But you were too busy worrying about Alicent.
You called out to Maester Orwyle.
He came up on her other side and tended to her.
You looked over at the midwife and your son.
He hadn’t cried.
Had you really lost both because you didn’t choose your son?
Dread pooled in your stomach.
What had you done?
The midwives handed the babe over to the maesters while they tended to Alicent.
Maester Orwyle hurried you to the side.
You sank into a nearby seat and watched in horror as they milled about the room.
Your breathing became uneven and your palms started to sweat.
You closed your eyes and tried to calm down.
You had to trust in the Gods.
Alicent trusted them.
And you trusted Alicent.
Then you heard them.
A loud gasp.
An even louder cry.
Your eyes flashed open to see Alicent sitting up, gasping for breath, and your son’s cries and flailing arms as he reached out away from the maesters.
You stood and looked to the opposite ends of the room.
Who would you go to first?
Without a second thought you moved towards the bed where Alicent laid.
Her breathing was even now and the midwives hurried in cleaning her up.
You went to her side and kissed her forehead as you held her.
“Thank the Gods.” You whispered as you held her tightly. “The whole of House Targaryen will become devout servants of the faith. I swear it,” you proclaimed.
A dry, hoarse laugh came from Alicent.
“Your son, your grace,” Maester Orwyle said as he handed you the baby.
You took him in your arms and lowered him so Alicent could see.
Just as Helaena had said, a head of silver hair with a single, thick, streak of reddish brown.
Alicent’s eyes watered as she stared down at the baby.
Then she looked up at you.
“Our son,” she whispered.
You smiled at her then down at your son.
“Our Baelon,” you replied.
Alicent asked for him so you placed him in her arms. She kissed Baelon’s forehead then held him tight.
You looked at them both and felt your heart swell with pride and adoration.
The happiness was short-lived as the maesters informed you they needed to examine baby Baelon further due to his early birth.
But you did as they requested and handed him over after taking him from Alicent.
The maesters placed him in a small crib and fussed over him with various tools.
You watched on but got interrupted by Otto.
He congratulated you and Alicent on the birth then informed you that he had fulfilled your latest request.
You furrowed your brow then recalled you wanted to meet his source of information. He told you that your guest was waiting for you in the small council room.
So you left Otto and Alicent to speak alone and made your way over to the small council room.
-
You walked in to find a woman clad in white on the opposite side of the room.
You furrowed your brow then recalled Otto had said, her instead of him.
Her back was to you.
So you cleared your throat.
She turned around to face you.
You were a bit awestruck by her beauty.
Her skin was a beautiful tanned olive. She was breathtaking.
The woman bowed her head.
“You called for me, your Grace?”
You squared your shoulders and approached her.
“I wanted to thank you.”
She lifted her head. “Thank me?”
“I hear you are the one that provided necessary information to my hand, twice now.”
The woman smiled placidly. “I’m simply an information broker, your Grace. I was paid for my services, no thanks is necessary.”
“What is your name?”
“Mysaria, your Grace.”
“That is a lovely name,” you replied and bade her sit down.
She did so and you sat opposite her.
“That name sounds familiar,” you told her.
And it did. You couldn’t exactly place it, but-
Her smile faded, and she lowered her gaze. “Does it?”
Then it hit you.
“You’re Daemon’s paramour.”
She lifted her gaze, panicked. “Was, your Grace.”
“He wrote to us, to the King, once, and said he had married you and that you were with child,” you explained.
“I was nothing more than a plaything to him, and I am happy to be free of him,” she replied.
You smiled.
“I welcome all allies against my uncle.”
Mysaria let out a small laugh.
Then another idea dawned upon you.
“Be my mistress of whispers,” you told her.
Her brow furrowed. “Your Grace?”
“I am in need of one.”
“Larys was a sick man indeed.”
You smiled. “You’ve more than earned the position, no need to show off just how much you know.”
Mysaria smiled back, blush tinting her cheeks.
“I humbly accept, your Grace.”
You clapped your hands. “Wonderful. You’ll begin at once.”
Then you called in the servants to have Otto begin the paperwork.
The intensity of Mysaria’s gaze upon you sent an excited shiver down your spine.
-
Aemond’s funeral was intimate.
You didn’t let Alicent join.
Her recovery was taking longer this time around and you wanted her to take as much rest as she needed.
So you stood side by side with Aegon and Helaena as Vermithor lit Aemond’s funeral pyre.
The flames raged on and with them renewed focus and determination to make your uncle pay.
Aemond’s mistake was an accident. Daemon’s actions were calculated and a clear act of war.
Summary: Dragons of green and black dance and weave red threads of death.
A/N: I apologize for the long wait and I thank everyone who has stuck around. Thankfully most of this was written when my mental health was better.
Hours later, you were informed of Lord Corlys’ recovery. He was awake and wished for an audience with the small council.
So you made your way to the room where it gathered, the others were already seated when you arrived.
Lord Corlys entered shortly afterwards, aided by a wooden cane. His gait was awkward and pained but he walked up to the battle plans placed upon a board.
Then he turned to face you and the rest of the council.
“My lords,” he greeted, then bowed his head to you, “Your grace.”
“Lord Corlys, it brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”
Corlys approached the table and took his seat as the master of ships. “I’m very sorry about your father, your Grace. He was a good man.”
He surveyed the war map then furrowed his brow. “Your declared allies?”
You nodded. “Most notable: houses Stark, Tyrell, Lannister and Hightower.”
Corlys pursed his lips in thought. “Too few to win a war to secure the throne.”
Suddenly self conscious you sat up straighter.
“We also hope to secure Houses Arryn, and Tully.”
Corlys sighed. “Hope is the fool’s ally.”
You clenched your jaw. As friendly as Lord Corlys was he was also yet another man who thought he knew better than you, the King.
So you squared your shoulders. “My aunt swore House Velaryon’s support in your absence. Should I still count on it?”
Lord Corlys nodded. “Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. You have the full support of our fleet and our House, your Grace.”
Your shoulders relaxed. “You honor me, Lord Corlys.”
Then Corlys proposed a new plan. He proposed the crown surround Dragonstone and lay siege to it in order to force Daemon to surrender, should he not accept the King’s terms.
But you pushed back against it. You didn’t want to act rashly, or be the first to strike. You knew that your father would not want you to be the first one to slay your fellow kin.
Lord Coryls didn’t seem to agree but he did not voice further disagreement.
“We will secure knowledge of who our allies are first. Otto, send ravens to houses Arry and Tully,” you ordered.
Aegon shot up from his seat. “Send Aemond and I, father.”
“Absolutely no-,” you began.
“Dragons are more convincing than ravens. Let your sons go and show the might of the crown,” Aegon reasoned.
His reasoning was sound, unfortunately. You looked around the table of the small council. It seemed they all agreed with Aegon.
And you knew that deep down you did too.
So after a long pause you nodded.
“Very well, Aegon, you shall go north to speak with Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Eyrie. Your brother will go to speak with Lord Tully,” you commanded.
Aegon sat up, chest puffed out, proud of himself.
You turned to the rest of the council. “We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore, and the cost of breaking them.”
The men of the council nodded in agreement. Then you rose from your seat and called the session to an end.
You stepped outside of the small council room and didn’t make it far before your aunt Rhaenys and Baela called out to you.
They informed you that Rhaena had fled the Keep.
Before you could ask why, Baela told you it was most likely that she went to Dragonstone to be with their father.
You cursed under your breath and told them you asked Aemond to see to Rhaena.
Baela informed you that Aemond did, she was with Rhaena when Aemond saw to her.
Rhaena did not take kindly to the idea that her father would be slain if he did not bend the knee.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. Of course Aemond had expressed things in the most horrid way possible.
“She always wanted our father’s love above all. Of course she would flee to him,” Baela mused.
You empathized, you knew how potent the desire for a father’s approval could be.
“Should Daemon not bend the knee and we all go to war, what will happen to Rhaena,” Rhaenys asked plainly.
You sighed. “If it comes to war then I pray you and Baela can convince Rhaena to return to our side. I do not wish to hurt her but I cannot be seen as weak when it comes to treason. You understand.”
Rhaenys’ brow furrowed in disappointment. “Then I pray the Gods sway Daemon’s heart.”
Then you all went your separate ways.
-
You made your way to Helaena’s apartments. You had not seen her baby since birth. No time between dueling, deception, and scheming.
Unfortunately for you, Alicent was also there. She sat beside the fire, working on needlepoint while Helaena tended to Rhaenyra.
Her husband, Ser Leo Tyrell, looked on at Helaena with adoration in his gaze.
The same adoration you once looked at Alicent with.
You cleared your throat when you entered and all gazes shot up towards you.
“I wanted to see my granddaughter,” you said with a soft smile.
Helaena’s face lit up. She stood and crossed the room, babe in hand.
Then she handed Rhaenyra over to you. You took the babe in your arms and bounced her gently.
“Little Nyra,” you cooed.
Rhaenyra looked up at you with such a wondrous expression. You smiled at her. You wondered what it was like for her to see the world for the first time.
“Are you well father?” Helaena inquired.
You tore your gaze from Rhaenyra. “What do you mean,” you asked as you looked over at Helaena.
“You look exhausted,” Helaena replied.
You let out a small laugh. Of course Helaena would not hold her tongue on such opinions. She was always her truest self, something you once felt envious of, but now felt a kinship with.
“I am a bit tired,” you confessed.
Alicent stood from her seat and walked over to where you and Helaena stood.
“Perhaps the King should retire for some sleep,” she suggested and placed a hand on your arm.
You clenched your jaw at the contact.
It was too soon.
You handed Rhaenyra back to Helaena then excused yourself.
You barely made it to the hall before Alicent rushed out to catch up with you.
“(y/n), I-”
You turned and stopped her.
“I’m not ready Alicent,” you said with a loud sigh.
Alicent swallowed hard and avoided your gaze. “I am sorry to hear that…but I wanted to inform you that Viserys is ready for his pyre. All has been prepared for this evening after supper.”
And she did not wait for a response. She whirled on her heels and marched back into Helaena’s room.
-
The funeral for Viserys was quick and small. You didn’t wish for a grand affair.
Aegon and Aemond were away on their missions and you didn’t want Helaena to witness.
So it was just you, Alicent, Rhaenys, and Lord Corlys.
The pyre blazed and you watched, eyes dry and head swirling with thoughts and emotions.
The future of house Targaryen now firmly rested in your hands. It was up to you to carry it.
-
That evening, you sank into the heated bath you requested. Jasmine, lavender, and vanilla scents wafted throughout the room. The oils swirled in the hot water. You looked down at your hands in your lap.
Jasmine was Alicent’s favorite oil to add to a bath. You only started using it after you realized how much you loved how it smelled on her.
The thought of Alicent turned your stomach.
You’d been cruel.
You wanted nothing more than to go to Alicent, seek comfort in her arms, and apologize.
But she’d risked everything because she didn’t trust in your abilities. She didn’t believe in you.
Amidst the looming threat of a dragon war you could not afford to give into your emotional whims.
You had to remain focused on the task that lay before you, securing your rule.
So you sank deeper into the water until you were submerged completely.
-
That night you were once again awoken by a serving girl who informed you Aemond had killed Aegon the younger.
Calamity after calamity. Perhaps Vaemond was right about you being unfit to rule.
You hurried to Aemond’s quarters where Alicent, and Otto were gathered.
They all turned to you as you entered.
You stared directly at Aemond.
“Have you gone mad?”
Aemond’s face fell. “Father I-”
Anger rose inside. “You what? You let your petty vanity get the better of you and you killed your nephew? You started a war, Aemond.”
“Aegon was already there when I arrived. Lord Tully’s grandson informed me they declared for Daemon. I was upset, so I started to taunt the boy,” Aemond explained hurriedly.
You made your way to the nearby table and poured yourself a cup of wine.
Aemond continued. “I gave chase when he got on his dragon. I just wanted to scare him father, you must believe me.”
You scoffed.
Otto cleared his throat.
You turned to him.
“It appears that Vhagar scared Aegon the younger’s dragon which led to the young dragon to defend itself,” Otto said with a sigh as he crossed one leg over the other.
“Vhagar ate the boy and his dragon,” Alicent finished.
Your eye flitted over to her before returning to Aemond.
“You didn’t stop Vhagar?”
Aemond’s jaw clenched. “I tried to.”
“You lost control of your dragon?” You questioned.
Aemond lowered his gaze in shame.
“I did.”
You approached him slowly, titled his chin up and forced him to look at you.
“You ride the largest, oldest, dragon in the realm and you lost control all because you wanted to taunt a boy whose dragon could barely keep him in the sky?”
Aemond’s lip quivered. “Father-”
Your hand fell from his face.
“Gather the small council,” you told him.
Aemond furrowed his brow. “That’s a servant’s job.”
Anger flared inside you. Perhaps you had coddled the boys too much and this was the result of your parenting.
Thoughtlessly, you turned around and slapped Aemond across his face.
He clutched his stinging cheek.
“I may yet make you one,” you threatened. “Now do as your King commands.”
His gaze firmly on the ground, Aemond nodded and made his way to the door.
The air in the room was thick and tense.
Otto stood and excused himself.
You and Alicent stood alone. Your back to her.
You felt her eyes on you. Piercing and unforgiving.
So you moved towards the door.
But Alicent quickly stepped in your way.
“Enough,” she said curtly. “We have to talk.”
“I have nothing to say,” you replied.
“You slapped our son and you have nothing to say?” She asked incredulously.
You turned away from her. “Nothing you haven’t done to Aegon.”
“What Aemond did, as thoughtless as his actions were, was an accident,” Alicent argued.
You whirled towards her. “An accident that will ignite a war!”
Alicent cowered, as if struck.
It broke your heart.
You stepped back until the back of your knees hit the chair behind you. You sank into the seat.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I never want to scare you.”
Alicent sighed and approached. She knelt down in front of you and placed her hands on your knees.
“You don’t scare me (y/n).”
You closed your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Alicent.” Then you opened your eyes and met her gaze. “And I’m scared. Scared that this war will lay waste to the Kingdom I’ve spent years building.”
Alicent reached up and cupped your face.
“This will not go to war. We will find a way to make amends.”
You softened. “I miss you,” you confessed. “I’m sorry.”
Alicent’s hands fell from your face. She folded them in her lap. “It is I who was in the wrong my love. I should have had faith in you.”
“I wish you would have. I’m strong Alicent,” you replied.
“I know you are. I just could not stand even the smallest chance of losing you.”
You reached down and threaded your fingers through Alicent’s. Then you brought her knuckles up to your lips.
“I am here. I need your faith to get through this.”
Alicent rose and placed her forehead against your own.
“You have it.”
Her lips were against yours in an instant.
How sweet they felt, how desperately they were needed to strengthen you and your resolve.
Alicent pulled away. “You have my faith and my love (y/n). Neither will ever waver.”
You nodded then brought her lips against yours again.
Alicent pulled away a second time.
You groaned, needy and wanting for her.
She smiled then stood up and pulled away from you completely.
“You must apologize to Aemond for striking him. He knows the gravity of what he did.”
You sighed then stood up. “I know. I suspect the loss of a dragonrider will make Daemon more amenable to our terms.”
Alicent held your hands in hers and led you out of the room.
-
The small council convened to discuss what had happened.
Alicent’s seat on the council was reinstated.
Some of the men raised their brows when they saw Alicent sit to the left of her father.
You turned to Otto as you sat down at the head of the table.
“News?”
Otto cleared his throat. “Daemon vehemently declined your terms but it seems word of Aegon the younger’s passing has not yet reached Dragonstone.”
You relaxed a bit. “That gives us time.”
“For what?” Lord Tyland asked.
You sighed, you had no idea how to even go about making amends. How could one apologize for the murder of a son?
Aegon cleared his throat.
All turned to him.
“Regretably, house Arryn has declared for Daemon,” he announced.
“Wonderful,” you muttered as tension returned to your shoulders.
“Our letters to the minor houses continue to go unanswered,” Otto debriefed.
“More great news,” you replied sarcastically.
“Cunts,” Aegon quipped.
Aegon’s vulgarity brought a small smile to your face. Though he did his best to mature he was still Aegon.
“Not all is dire, your Grace. My brother is raising the strength of the West to mass at the Golden Tooth,” Tyland informed the council.
“That is something,” Alicent replied.
You mindlessly toyed with the crystal that rested in its plate in front of you.
Otto informed the council his nephew, the lord of house Hightower, was also mustering forces that would meet with House Tyrell’s forces.
The council session continued with more updates. Lord Corlys had left King’s Landing to strengthen the fleet, Rhaenys went with him. The young lord Dalton Greyjoy aligned with Daemon and word had reached Otto they wanted to place a blockade and put King’s Landing under strain. So it was imperative that Corlys succeed in his efforts to rebuild the fleet.
You were only half paying attention.
Much still lingered on your mind.
Not the least of which was Criston actively punishing Larys in the black cells below.
You wanted to go, witness it, and revel in Larys’ pain.
But with Aemond’s rash accident you needed to strategize.
It wasn’t until Aemond himself walked into the council session that your attention returned.
“Aemond. What is your business here?” Alicent questioned.
Aemond strutted into the room. “The King’s heir summoned me.”
You turned to Aegon.
He lowered his gaze, blush tinting his pale cheeks. “Aemond is our best sword and rides the largest dragon in the realm. We should welcome him,” he confessed.
Then you turned your gaze back to Aemond.
He stared you down.
Aemond was nothing if not proud.
Guilt over striking him creeped up on you. So you sighed aloud and nodded.
“Very well.”
Aemond approached the war board and studied the map.
“The path to our victory is through the Riverlands. We must establish a toehold there, at Harrenhal.”
Otto nodded. “It has stood vacant upon Lord and Harwin Strong’s unexpected passing and subsequent burning.”
“Has anyone seen the new Lord Strong?” Tyland questioned.
The master of whispers was noticeably absent.
Alicent met your gaze.
You stiffened and steppled your fingers in front of you.
“Larys has not been able to be located.”
“Perhaps he has fled to Prince Daemon’s side,” Maester Orwyelle mused.
“Perhaps,” Otto replied then returned to strategizing with Aemond.
They were all so sure war was now inevitable.
Part of you agreed.
You knew your uncle’s temper.
Aegon puffed his chest out. “The Riverlords will either declare for you, father, or they will meet Vhagar and Sunfyre together.”
Alicent rubbed her temples as she shook her head. “Daemon has dragons as well.”
Aegon shrugged. “Ours are bigger.”
Alicent scoffed. “If we lost the dragons to war there’ll be no calling them back. We must proceed cautiously.”
But Aegon would not give in.
Annoyed, he continued. “Fat, old Lord Tully will either raise our banner or see his burn. I should fly to Riverrun, father.”
You loved your son but you grew tired of his bluster.
“Listen to your mother Aegon and see reason.”
Aegon would not hear of it.
He yammered on about the might of the crown.
You were done entertaining him. You stood from your seat, pulled the dagger from your belt and placed it in front of Aegon.
“If you know better than you King why not simply cut me down now instead of waiting until I am old and grey,” you challenged.
Aegon sputtered, his eyes grew wide with fear.
“Father I did not- I simply-,” he stammered.
You grabbed the dagger and returned it to its sheath.
“I welcome the council of you all, but let us not forget I am King. My word is final. Let us send more ravens and see where the remaining houses align.”
Then you dismissed everyone but Aemond.
Once the room was clear you approached him and apologized for striking him.
“Apology is not necessary, your Grace. I understand the precarious position my rash error has placed the crown in, and added more stress onto your shoulders,” Aemond responded then apologized for letting his temper get the best of him.
“I will not fail you again, father,” Aemond finished.
You clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will keep your word.”
Finally, you led Aemond out of the room.
The edges of your vision grew blurred and you knew a headache was upon you.
Though relief would not be allowed as Otto approached you outside the small council room. He reminded you how critical Dorne’s support might be should war break out.
You assured him that you would take care of it and see that the wedding between the two nations hastened then dismissed him.
The headache was fast approaching and you could already feel the pounding against your skull.
When you returned to your quarters Alicent was there pouring herself a cup of wine.
You were surprised to see her. “Alicent,” you breathed.
She whirled around to face you. She smiled then it faded when she realized how surprised you looked.
“I just assumed I would be moving back in. If I was mistaken-.”
You quickly approached her and wrapped your arms around her waist.
“You were not mistaken. I am happy to see you back in this room, where you belong,” you reassured her.
Alicent’s smile returned.
“I’ve missed you (y/n),” she whispered.
You let your forehead rest against hers, your headache forgotten.
“I’ve missed you more.”
For a minute the worries of the world melted away, and all that you focused on was Alicent’s perfume and her warmth.
-
The following days were quiet.
Eerily so.
It seemed things were at a standstill.
Minor houses mostly declared their loyalty to you but all the major houses with the exceptions of Stark, Lannister, and Tyrell declared for your uncle. He also had considerable support from the houses of the Riverlands.
The men on the council urged you to strike while Daemon was busy mourning his son.
But you did not want to act hastily.
Perhaps your uncle could still be swayed.
So you ordered more ravens be sent to Dragonstone.
Then there was the issue with Dorne.
Ravens sent to them regarding Aemond’s betrothal to Princess Coryanne went unanswered.
You debated flying out to Dorne yourself on dragonback to force an answer from Prince Qoren but Alicent quickly dissuaded you from such a thought.
That night, while the two of you lay side by side basking in post coital glow you confessed to Alicent that a part of you wanted to run away with her.
Across the narrow sea, make a home on a small plot of land, and live the rest of your days in peace.
Alicent thought the fantasy a beautiful one, but a fantasy nonetheless.
The door burst open and Aegon rushed inside.
“They’ve killed him,” he cried out.
You jumped out of bed and wrapped a robe around you as you approached Aegon.
“Killed who?”
Aegon’s tears streamed down the sides of his face. “Aemond,” he choked out.
Dread seeped into every part of you. Your body felt like lead.
“Who? How?” You sputtered, not believing your ears.
“They- it was two of them I could not. I was not strong enough father I am sorry I-,” Aegon tried to eek out through sobs.
You instructed Aegon and Alicent to remain in the room then made your way towards the door.
But Alicent cried out to you.
You stopped and turned towards her.
You watched in horror as she gripped her swollen belly.
“The baby is coming,” she groaned.
You furrowed your brow. “So soon? You are not at full term.”
“It appears baby Baelon does not care,” Alicent moaned.
You told Aegon to stay with Alicent then you walked out of the room.
Chaos filled the halls, guards moving servants about and barking orders. You ordered Ser Erryk to stay with the Prince and Queen, and Ser Arryk to fetch the midwives.
You had to see to Aemond yourself.
The knights did not want to leave you side but they obeyed the order from their King.
You rushed to Aemond’s quarters and stopped in the threshold.
Summary: You are the very opposite of everything Francesca has ever known, has ever been told was possible. You absolutely befuddle her. So she has no idea why she gravitates towards you, and why she needs your approval more than anything else.
A/N: 50s Au, not super period or location accurate. Janet Stirling is not Black in this story unless you want her to be. Leaving Janet as John’s stepmother to allow MC to be of any ethnicity/race. Catching up on Bridgerton and I needed to write something for Francesca. Hope you all enjoy it!
*Fran’s POV*
The train ride to the countryside was quiet save for Eloise’s questions regarding the castle that would be their home for the remainder of summer.
As they neared their destination John cleared his throat and brought the two ladies’ attention to him.
“Before we arrive at the estate I would be remiss if I didn’t give you both proper warning,” John lamented.
Eloise’s brow furrowed. “Warning? Do you have a ferocious guard dog,” she joked half heartedly.
John remained serious in his expression.
Eloise’s half smile fell.
“I must warn you about my sister, (y/n),” John explained.
Francesca nodded softly. “You briefly mentioned her when we began to get to know one another but didn’t say much about her.”
“That is for good reason. (y/n) is not like anyone else either of you have known. She is…unique.” John finished with a compassionate look.
Eloise turned to her sister, still confused.
Francesca didn’t have to look at Eloise to know what the older Bridgerton was thinking.
“Is there anything we should know to avoid upsetting her?” Francesca asked.
John shook his head. “I’m rather more concerned she will upset the both of you.”
Francesca’s brows raised. “Oh.”
“(y/n) mostly keeps to herself but she is very strong willed and if she does not get her way she can lose her temper. It’s best the both of you just leave her alone,” John cautioned.
“I love a strong willed woman. Perhaps we will get along,” Eloise interjected.
John looked at Eloise with a grim expression.
Eloise deflated once more.
Francesca swallowed hard. She was nervous about meeting John’s family, if they would approve of her, and now she was even more concerned.
How was she to get John’s sister’s approval if she was so difficult to know?
“What about your mother?” Francesca asked.
John rarely talked about his family.
“Stepmother actually,” John clarified.
Eloise’s ears perked up. “Really?”
John smiled softly. “My stepmother, dowager countess of Kilmartin, is warm and lovely. She will take to you both very easily, I’m sure of it.”
Some of the tension eased from Francesca’s shoulders.
At least she only had one family member to worry about.
So she spent the rest of the ride thinking of ways to get on (y/n)’s good side.
But in order to do that she would need more information and it seemed John was hesitant to provide any more.
Francesca mulled it over in her head. She would simply have to find a way.
-
*Your POV*
(y/n) stared at the setting sun as she sat amongst the garden’s daisies, her favorite flower.
John would be arriving soon, with his new wife in tow. Their arrival would only reinforce (y/n)’s mother’s desire to see (y/n) wed.
Every year (y/n)’s father delayed her debut in society was a win in (y/n)’s eyes, but as she turned yet another year older she knew she would not be able to delay it any longer.
Especially now that her father, her most steadfast supporter, had passed it was inevitable that the summer was to be her last as a free woman.
Her brother loved her, and knew her truth, but even he could not belay the tragedy of the marriage mart any longer.
The dowager countess Janet Stirling would not see her only daughter shrivel up as a lowly spinster, and now without her husband to give deference to, there was no one to stop her plans.
So (y/n) blinked the tears that threatened to spill forth and vowed to spend the summer being every bit as reckless and subversive as their family acquaintances thought her to be.
Perhaps then no man would want her upon her debut.
It wouldn’t even be too hard.
She was after all already a rumored aberration in the eyes of society.
A lesbian.
A word no one dared even whisper. Instead they called (y/n) rebellious and unconventional if they wanted to be kind, a pervert and unseemly girl if they didn’t.
“My lady,” a servant’s voice called out and pulled (y/n) from her melancholic thoughts.
He informed her that John’s car was seen just past the estate’s gate and would be arriving shortly.
So (y/n) followed the servant back into the estate and she walked to the foyer where her mother awaited.
(y/n)’s mother smoothed her skirt and fidgeted with her hairdo.
First impressions were everything, as the dowager countess so often reminded (y/n).
“There you are,” (y/n)’s mother chided as soon as she noticed (y/n) enter.
“Here I am,” (y/n) replied with a half hearted smile.
Janet Stirling approached her daughter and started to straighten up her appearance, a frown spreading across her aged features.
“I thought I told you to put on that nice dress I bought you the other day?”
(y/n) let out an exasperated sigh.
“You know I don’t wear dresses, mother.”
Janet’s hands fell from her daughter’s jacket, her displeasure clear.
“Teenage rebellion isn’t so darling when one’s teenage years are behind them,” she chided.
(y/n) smiled placidly, knowing such a reaction would irk her mother.
“Then it’s a good thing I have one last year with teen at the end of my age.”
A familiar horn interrupted their conversation before it could devolve into their usual arguing over (y/n)’s actions.
So (y/n) rushed out through the front doors and down the steps to see the Kilmartin Rolls Royce come to a stop in front of the estate.
An earnest smile was pulled out of (y/n) at the sight of her brother’s return.
The driver got out and walked over to the back door. He pulled it open and John exited first.
“Johnny,” (y/n) called out.
John stepped towards his sister but didn’t make it too far before (y/n) crashed into his arms and wrapped him up in a tight embrace.
John let out a warm laugh. “I missed you as well baby sister.”
(y/n)’s eyes naturally closed to inhale her brother’s familiar scent of mahogany and amber. It reminded her of their father as he and John wore similar colognes.
When her eyes opened she met the gaze of the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.
The mystery woman’s hazel eyes seemed to hold onto (y/n)’s with equal amounts of curiosity and rapture.
The world seemed to stop.
She froze in John’s arms.
Of course her brother noticed. He pulled away to follow (y/n)’s gaze.
“Ah, I see,” John began, then let go of his sister to walk towards the beautiful woman’s side. “Mother, sister, this is my wife, the new Lady Kilmartin.”
His wife….
(y/n)’s heart sank into her stomach.
She tore her gaze away from the new Lady Kilmartin, which felt as impossible as sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, and tried to mask her disappointment.
Thankfully the dowager countess swept in and greeted John’s wife warmly.
“Francesca,” John called her.
Francesca, (y/n) turned the name over in her mind.
So lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t hear Francesca.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance (y/n),” Francesca said, with a voice so lovely it sounded melodic.
This woman was going to be a problem. (y/n) knew it by the way her skin goosepimpled at the sound of Francesca saying her name.
Everyone gathered watched as (y/n) avoided Francesca’s gaze.
“The ride was dreadfully long,” came an unknown voice.
A second woman emerged from the car.
Beautiful as well but (y/n) did not feel that same world shattering butterflies she had with Francesca.
John introduced the woman as Francesca’s sister Eloise, who would be joining them for the remainder of the summer.
Her mother greeted the two women warmly and played the part of host perfectly. It was impossible for Janet Stirling to be anything but perfect.
Something (y/n) was constantly being reminded of.
Suddenly, she needed to be anywhere but there.
(y/n) cleared her throat and turned to her mother.
“Mother, Michaela invited me to supper with her family. I forgot to mention it earlier.”
Janet Stirling gave (y/n) a strained, polite, smile. Clearly more for company’s sake.
“Michaela will forgive you if you miss it.”
But (y/n) didn’t relent. “Their cook made rice pudding. You know how much I love it.”
John let out a deep laugh. “We can’t have you missing the rice pudding can we sister?”
(y/n) met her brother’s warm gaze with a sheepish smile.
Janet approached her daughter and lowered her voice. “We have guests (y/n).”
(y/n) dared a quick glance in Francesca’s direction.
She quickly regretted it.
Francesca gave (y/n) a shy smile.
It made (y/n)’s throat run dry.
“I already promised Michaela I would go,” (y/n) protested with a dry cough.
A stern look washed over Janet’s features. She opened her mouth to speak, and to no doubt chide her daughter, but John stepped in.
“Francesca and lady Eloise have the rest of summer to get to know (y/n), mother. I think we can survive a dinner without her.”
But Janet Stirling would not give in. She crossed her arms against her chest.
“And (y/n) can survive a day without seeing Michaela.”
(y/n) frowned. “She’s my best friend.”
“I hardly see my best friends anymore (y/n). You must grow up sometime,” Janet replied with thinly veiled irritation.
Again, John stepped in to mediate between mother and daughter. He approached his sister and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Go, say hello to Michaela for me.”
(y/n) nodded eagerly. “Thank you,” she whispered and placed a quick kiss on John’s cheek.
Then (y/n) turned to her mother with a triumphant smirk on her face.
Janet Stirling was not pleased, but she could not go against the Earl of Kilmartin. So she swallowed her anger and turned back to Francesca and Eloise. She invited them in for tea and led them inside.
A servant brought (y/n)’s motorcycle around just as the group entered the estate. She slid her helmet on and donned her driving gloves. Then she started the bike and sped off towards Michaela’s estate.
-
The bike ride to Michaela’s estate was quick and easy. Michaela and (y/n) grew up together and never could be too far from one another.
They were as close as sisters.
Though many around them whispered that the pair of friends was something more, something unseemly.
These of course were just rumors. Michaela was not like (y/n), she enjoyed men- a little too much for her parent’s liking who had to keep a close eye on her every ball they attended.
Michaela’s parents also weren’t fans of their daughter’s enduring friendship with (y/n). They did not care for (y/n)’s reputation, but they didn’t protest much as (y/n)’s father was an Earl.
(y/n) parked her bike haphazardly on the lawn then walked into Michaela’s home casually, as she had many times before.
She said a quick hello to Michaela’s parents as she passed them on her way up to Michaela’s room.
They were not pleased to see her.
Still, (y/n) continued on her way.
Once at Michaela’s door (y/n) brought her hand up to knock on the ornate white door but before her knuckles could rap on the wood the door swung open.
“(y/n),” Michaela exclaimed with a grin.
(y/n)’s hand fell back to her side. She did not return the happy expression.
Michaela’s smile fell.
“What’s wrong?”
(y/n) pushed past Michaela and walked into her room. She fell onto Michael’s bed and buried her face in a pillow.
“My heart has been struck by cupid’s bow,” (y/n) murmured.
Michaela closed her bedroom door then walked over to sit next to her best friend.
“Again?”
(y/n) brought her head back up just enough to glare at Michaela.
“This is different.”
Michaela raised a brow. “How?”
(y/n) sighed then sat up to face Michaela.
“John is back.”
Michaela’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you happy about that?”
“I am, but he returned with a wife,” (y/n) continued.
“And is she horrid? Ugly? Does she have an unsightly mole on her face?” Michaela questioned, desperately trying to find reason in (y/n)’s cryptic explanation.
(y/n) groaned. “The exact opposite, and that’s the problem Mickey.”
Michaela shook her head softly. “I still don’t follow.”
“She’s beautiful…beautiful beautiful,” (y/n) replied and placed emphasis on the word beautiful the second time she said it.
Michaela stared at her best friend for a second before it clicked.
“Oh…”
It finally dawned on Michaela.
(y/n) sighed and fell back onto the bed. “What am I going to do?”
Michaela laid down beside (y/n).
“There’s not much you can do. Maybe avoid her? How long are they staying?”
(y/n) sighed and turned her head towards Michaela.
“The whole summer.”
Michaela grimaced. “You’re fucked.”
For the first time that day (y/n) let out a laugh.
-
*Fran’s pov*
Francesca gazed out of the window as Eloise continued to settle into her bedroom for the summer.
“You said you were going to help me unpack,” Eloise complained.
Francesca tore her gaze from the window. She blushed and lowered her gaze apologetically.
Eloise threw a blouse back onto her suitcase and sat opposite Francesca.
“What’s got you so lost in thought?”
The blush on Francesca’s face deepened.
“(y/n) is not quite what I thought she would be,” Francesca confessed.
“She’s marvelous isn’t she? Totally free, and I’m positively green with envy.” Eloise replied with an excited glint in her eye.
Francesca mulled Eloise’s words over in her head. Eloise’s vague desire for something she saw as freedom had always confused Francesca.
“I don’t know,” Francesca continued, “It was a bit rude that she didn’t have dinner with us. We are her guests after all.”
Eloise shrugged. “Maybe a little rude…,” she conceded, then leaned forward on her thighs. “But did you see that she drove off on a motorbike?”
“I did,” Francesca answered halfheartedly.
Eloise beamed. “I didn’t think women were allowed to ride on such things let alone drive them.”
Francesca mumbled a reply. “Mmm.”
Then Eloise noticed Francesca’s mind had once again wandered.
“What is it now?”
Francesca titled her head to one side, pensive.
“Do you think I offended her, somehow? Or did I make a poor first impression?”
Eloise rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m sure you made a fine first impression.” She reached forward and held her sister’s hands in her own. “You are the picture of poise and beauty Francesca.”
Blush dappled Francesca’s features. “You flatter me sister.”
“And you promised to help me unpack,” Eloise replied accusingly as she let go of Francesca’s hands.
Francesca stood from her seat and made her way towards the door.
“It’s getting late. I should get back to my bedroom and get ready for bed.”
Eloise stood up and placed a hand on her hip. “How convenient.”
Francesca let out a small laugh then bid her sister a goodnight.
On her way to the primary bedroom she would now share with her husband her mind wandered back on (y/n).
(y/n) was certainly unique, in that Francesca agreed with John. It didn’t bother her but it did give her pause.
Francesca had no experience with someone so outside of what she knew.
But Francesca was determined to succeed in her new role as countess of Kilmartin and wife of John.
So she would get on (y/n)’s good side, somehow.
-
Later that night, Francesca looked at the clock on her nightstand.
It was ten o’clock at night and (y/n) hadn’t returned.
The servant who had informed John that (y/n) was still out excused herself from the room. Then John sighed and returned to the bed and slid in beside Francesca.
“Is she normally out so late unchaperoned?" Francesca inquired.
John let out a small sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Her brows shot up in surprise. “Your father allowed such behavior?”
“He didn’t love it,” John began with a beleaguered expression, “...but as you saw (y/n) has a strong will and always found a way to do what she wanted.”
“Isn’t it unsafe for her to be out alone.”
John smiled mischievously. “(y/n) is tougher than she looks. Besides, it’s completely safe here.”
Then John looked away from Francesca and got lost in thought.
“What is it?” Francesca pressed.
The new Earl of Kilmartin shook his head softly then returned his gaze upon his wife. “I just remembered the time (y/n) cut her hair short like a boy and snuck out into town.”
“Oh, for what possible reason?”
“Our father wouldn’t let her stay at any town festival past sundown because she was a girl. So when she returned at midnight and my father lectured her, her defense was that she was now a boy and boys could do as they pleased.”
A throaty laugh escaped John as he reminisced.
Francesca’s brows remained raised. “Why do I get the feeling you encouraged such behavior?”
Another laugh from John.
“We have always been partners in mischief.”
Francesca smiled. “How did your father feel about that?”
“He and Janet tried countless times to make a proper lady out of (y/n) but eventually they both gave up,” John explained. “Well, my father gave up and just let her be. I think Janet still holds out hope.”
Francesca let out a deep breath.“Scotland certainly is different from England.”
“Is that a bad thing?” John asked with a furrowed brow.
Panic shot up inside Francesca.
“Oh no, no, it’s a good thing- I think. It’s new to me but I am excited to get to know your sister better.”
John’s expression lightened.
“And I’m excited for you to get to know her too. I’m sure the two of you will be thick as thieves in no time.”
Francesca’s lips thinned into a tight smile.
“Goodnight John,” she said, then turned away from her husband and settled back into bed.
John bid her a good night then turned out the lights before he went to bed.
-
Sleep did not come for Francesca. She tossed and she turned.
All kinds of anxieties lingered in her mind.
The bedroom suddenly felt too small.
So she carefully got out of bed, pulled on her nightrobe and slippers, then made her way downstairs.
She got a bit lost at first then recalled the way to the kitchen.
A glass of milk would settle her nerves.
Luckily- or unluckily- one of the cause of her nerves walked into the kitchen at the very same moment she did.
It startled Francesca.
(y/n)’s gaze met Francesca’s.
“My apologies.”
Francesca’s stomach tightened. She didn’t know why.
“It’s alright. I was just a bit startled is all.”
(y/n) looked away from Francesca and remained silent.
Francesca wasn’t sure what else to say.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted the glass of milk anymore.
The air turned awkward to say the least.
(y/n) then shuffled towards the stairs.
“I should get to bed,” she said under her breath as she passed Francesca.
“Yes, it’s very late,” Francesca replied absentmindedly.
(y/n) stopped, her back to Francesca.
“You sound like my mother,” she said over her shoulder.
She’d put her foot in her mouth, hadn’t she?
Francesca started to sputter. “Oh I didn’t- I mean I-”
(y/n) turned around to face Francesca. She crossed her arms against her chest.
“I’m a grown woman you know, not a girl to be watched over like a prized hog at the county fair.”
She said and closed the distance between her and Francesca.
Francesca’s face warmed. This was as close as she had ever been to (y/n) and she was just now realizing how beautiful (y/n) was, even if it was an unconventional sort of beauty.
“Of course I wouldn’t dream of-”
Then Fran caught a whiff of alcohol coming from (y/n).
“Are you drunk?” She whispered and leaned her head towards (y/n).
(y/n)’s eyes widened. Then she huffed and marched down the hall and up the stairs.
“Good night, countess Kilmartin,” she replied dismissively.
Francesca shrunk in on herself as she watched (y/n) storm off.
Not the best start for the sisterly bond she had hoped to develop with (y/n).
Summary: The cliche of falling for your brother's wife, lesbian edition.
A/N: A little drabble that popped into my head. I'm deep in writer's block so I'm happy I was able to get a little something out. I promise I haven't given up on my WIPs.
Francesca chased after (y/n), the rain soaking her dress and undergarments, but she didn’t care. She needed answers.
“Why do you hate me so?”
(y/n) scoffed, her back still to the taller woman as she marched towards the house.
“I don’t think of you enough to hate you,” she spat.
Floored, Francesca stopped dead in her tracks.
“Truly?”
At the lack of footsteps (y/n) whirled around. Her heart softened at the sight.
Tears welled in Francesca’s eyes as she stood, her chest heaving from the exertion of trying to catch (y/n).
“You truly never think of me?” Francesca asked, her breath just above a whisper.
(y/n)’s throat dried.
She did not mean to hurt the younger woman. She had not meant for any of this. All she wanted was one last summer before her mother shipped her off to London to be bought and sold like cattle on the marriage market.
So (y/n) cast her gaze to the side.
The summer monsoon was an unexpected freak accident.
But the humidity did little to warm the coldness of (y/n)’s demeanor in Francesca’s eyes.
“All I have done since I have arrived is think of you. You, and not my husband…your brother,” Francesca confessed, quivering and stuttering.
(y/n)’s gaze snapped back onto Francesca.
“You don’t mean that. Please don’t say things like that,” (y/n) chided.
“It is the truth!” Francesca protested.
“Is it folly,” (y/n) cursed back as she marched up to Francesca.
(y/n) stopped just short of the taller woman. She looked up at Francesca and swallowed hard. She hadn’t been so close to her in weeks.
“You are my demise Francesca Bridgerton,” (y/n) breathed unsteadily.
A tear fell down Francesca’s cheek, easily masked by the rain.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized tenderly.
So tenderly that it tugged at (y/n)’s heartstrings.
(y/n) reached up and cupped Francesca’s cheek. It was warm under her touch.
Francesca leaned into the contact.
“You are my brother’s wife. I should not think of you,” (y/n) said without conviction.
Francesca’s gaze dropped as she nodded slightly, not wanting to part from (y/n)’s touch.
“But I do think of you….”
Francesca’s gaze shot back up to meet (y/n)’s. “You do?”
(y/n) let out a great sigh then smiled, relieved.
“Morning, noon, and night. You haunt my dreams and when I wake I cannot rid my mind’s eye of your pink lips or gentle gaze.”
Blush crept across Francesca’s features. Her gaze softened.
(y/n) stroked Francesca’s cheek with her thumb.
“Then why do you rebuke me so brusquely when I attempt to know or spend time with you,” Francesca asked as she closed the small gap between the two women.
(y/n)’s breath hitched in her throat at the closeness.
“Because I cannot have you as I wish to. It is easier to push you away than it is to hold you this close knowing you will never be mine,” (y/n) professed.
Francesca brought her forehead against (y/n)’s. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, slowly.
“If I had known you first…,” she dreamed wistfully.
(y/n) let out a bitter laugh.
“You would have thought me a great prospect for friendship.”
Francesca sighed, knowing that it took weeks for her to realize what she felt for (y/n) went deeper than friendship. The breadth and depth of her feelings scared her at first as she had never felt such things for John. Though she cared for her husband deeply it paled in comparison to the roaring bonfire that raged within her whenever (y/n) was near.
Francesca shivered.
(y/n) noticed the amount of goose pimples that covered Francesca’s arms. She pulled away from her and laced her fingers with Francesca’s.
Then (y/n) led Francesca to the shack next to them that contained all the family’s sporting equipment.
In it she found an old blanket, but it was clean from what she could tell. So she wrapped it around Francesca as best she could given the height difference.
“I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Francesca frowned. “What about you?”
(y/n) smiled. “I am warmed by your very presence.”
Blush returned to Francesca’s cheeks. She lowered her gaze.
“We can wait out the rain here,” (y/n) stated then cleared an old bin and flipped it upside down for Francesca to sit down.
Francesca did so then patted her lap.
(y/n)’s brow furrowed.
“You can’t stand the whole time. Who knows how long the rain will last,” Francesca reasoned.
Professionally Unprofessional Pt.3 - Casey McKay x f!Reader
Summary: The most memorable relationships are ones of high highs and low lows. Cassie would do anything to get another high with you.
A/N: Final installment to this series! I lost inspiration to write it as the Pitt season two was very disappointing to me so the majority of this are bullet points of what the story was going to be. I included anon's request for an injured/dying reader x cassie imagine. Can't promise it's a happy ending y'all know that's not my style lol
The following morning Cassie woke up to an empty bed.
Anxiety crawled up her back. Had you regretted it?
Then she saw the folded up piece of paper on her nightstand with her name on it.
She grabbed and unfolded it.
It was from you, of course, and you told Cassie you had to run home to shower and get clean clothes. That you would meet her at work.
And that you very much meant every word you said the previous night.
It would not be a one time thing.
Cassie smiled lazily and got up to get ready for work.
She hastily showered and threw on clean scrubs before rushing to grab a protein shake from her fridge.
Cassie got into her car and headed for PTMC.
Upon her arrival Cassie was instantly cornered by the scooby gang.
Trinity leaned against the staff lockers.
“So?” She asked with a raised brow.
Cassie continued to shove her things in her locker.
“So what,” Cassie replied.
“How did things go with you and Dr. (y/l/n),” Victoria pressed.
Cassie closed her locker and turned towards the med students.
Dennis, to his credit, looked sheepish but his ears were absolutely perked up to hear the gossip.
“Nothing happened,” Cassie lied and tried to push past them.
“I don’t buy that,” Trinity rebuffed.
“I don’t either,” Victoria agreed.
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Sorry to disappoint kids.”
As she made her way towards the center of the Pitt she was stopped by a pair of hands that pulled her into an empty room with the privacy curtain pulled.
Cassie was about to protest but then she turned to see the hands that pulled on her were yours.
She smiled softly. “Hey you.”
You wrapped your arms around Cassie’s shoulders.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Cassie’s arms snaked around your waist.
-Summary of rest below-
Cassie is a little awkward but you take it all in stride
You tell Cassie the two of you will have to keep things on the low until Robby returns, for the sake of professionalism.
Cassie understands, she just can't believe she found someone like you.
Keeping things on the low doesn’t stop you from throwing flirty looks Cassie’s way every time the two of you are near each other.
Looks that end with flirty touches
Cassie swears the others will notice but they don’t.
The scooby gang eventually wears Cassie down.
So she swears them to secrecy if she tells them the truth
“Scout’s honor,” Trinity says.
“You were a scout?” Dennis replies, confused.
They are not surprised but so happy for Cassie.
-
A week later you and Cassie have given up trying to keep things lowkey.
You’re about to leave anyway, and HR doesn’t care.
So Cassie does small caring things like bring you a morning coffee or rub your shoulders after a tough trauma case.
“You’re so whipped,” Trinity teases.
But she lowkey ships the two of you.
Cassie has never been so happy.
She sort of hopes Robby doesn’t come back.
The two of you haven’t had a serious conversation of what post PTMC looks like for you both.
Cassie knows it’s a convo you two should have had but she doesn’t want to pop the bubble of bliss you are both in.
-
Robby comes back in four days.
You and Cassie are in your apartment, post coital bliss as the two of you lay languidly entangled in one another
As Cassie gazes at you she realizes her feelings are getting real, they’re getting serious. They were already but now…it feels bigger than she thought it would.
So she asks the big question.
What’s the plan?
A conversation that can no longer be avoided.
But that doesn’t stop you from trying.
Cassie won’t let you though, she needs to know.
You’ve met Harrison for christ sake, this isn’t a game to her.
You reassure her it’s not a game to you either, but it’s complicated.
You explain that before you and Cassie got together you were approached about a position at Whitebridge Hospital
Cassie is overjoyed. It’s local and it’s a permanent position, it’s perfect.
But
You were also recently approached by one of the PTMC board members about a position at one of his hospitals in Chicago
Cassie’s face falls, and her heart sinks.
She knows whatever Whitebridge will pay you pales in comparison to a fancy hospital in Chicago.
So it gets awkward and quiet.
After a few infinite moments Cassie asks you what you’re going to do.
You confess you aren’t sure. The Chicago offer was before you and Cassie got together so you wanted that one but now….now you don’t want to leave her.
Cassie doesn’t want you to leave either but she wants you to think about your career too. Cassie doesn’t want to hold you back.
You tell Cassie the hospitals don’t need an answer from you just yet. A decision doesn’t have to be made at that very moment.
Cassie spends the night but she can’t sleep.
She’s fallen so deeply in love with you, she doesn’t want to think of how lonely life without you will feel.
-
Cassie walks into the pitt, upset.
Robby is back today.
The two of you had a fight the night before, about you not taking the job in chicago for cassie’s sake.
Cassie feels horrible about the fight, she bought you your favorite coffee as a gesture of her apology.
She just doesn’t want you to resent her for staying.
Robby says hello, and asks where you are.
Cassie asks Robby why she would know.
Robby smiles, dana and princess got him up to speed on cassie and you.
Cassie laughs, tells robby they had a bit of a spat so she doesn’t know but you are always on time- will probably be there in a few to hand everything off to him.
Then she goes about her morning, putting things away in her locker, doing the rounds for the night shift hand offs.
When Cassie gets a chance to catch her breath she realizes you’re still not in.
She pulls out her phone, no missed calls or texts.
She sends you one.
That’s when dana tells cassie incoming trauma, crash on the highway, patient in critical condition.
Robby has cassie jump on it with him.
When the paramedics wheel the patient in they all realize it’s you.
You’re unconscious.
Cassie panics.
Robby tells her she’s off the case but cassie won’t hear it
So robby drops it and they wheel you into the trauma bay.
It’s touch and go for several minutes, they lose you then bring you back then lose you a second time.
Cassie starts to get a panic attack and dana pulls her out
Cassie doesn’t want to but they bring you back so she follows dana out. Robby promises he’s gonna do everything he can.
Cassie nods then goes to sit down in the breakroom with Dana.
She’s crying, sobbing, and Dana is comforting her.
The scooby team, minus samira and santos who were with robby, also comfort her.
When she calms down she goes back out. you are being rushed up to the OR.
Cassie watches.
Garcia tells Cassie she’s not gonna lose her girl on her watch.
Cassie tries to go back to work but robby won’t have it.
So she goes up to wait for you. She gets anxious.
Dana comes up to check on her for a bit then goes back down.
Cassie has chad pick up Harrison even though it’s her day.
It’s hours later when Garcia comes out with news
You are stable for now, but unconscious and Garcia isn’t sure if you’ll pull through or not. They just have to wait and see.
Cassie’s heart breaks and she goes to your room and sits by the bedside.
Cassie apologizes for fighting, tells you the truth about why she insisted she go to Chicago.
you don't wake up.
-
Two days later, you are still in a coma.
Cassie hasn’t gone back to work.
She’s devastated.
Her mom comes by, with fresh clothes, cassie hasn’t left your side.
Her mom tells her Harrison wants to visit.
Cassie doesn’t want Harrison to see you in that condition.
Her mom tells her you will pull through, you are a tough girl.
Cassie hopes her mom is right.
Then the scooby team comes to visit with flowers and balloons. It’s awkward but they show their support.
Cassie ends up falling asleep.
She’s awoken that night by someone coming into your room.
It’s a woman, not much older than Cassie.
The woman demands to know who Cassie is.
Cassie demands to know who the woman is.
“I’m her mother.”
Cassie is embarrassed. Introducing herself.
“So you’re the girlfriend?” Mom asks, visibly disapproving.
Cassie is awkward but tells your mom everything.
your mom dismisses cassie, she can go now that your mom is there.
Cassie respectfully disagrees. She’s not leaving your side.
They clash a bit but cassie stays.
-
Weeks pass, still in a comma.
Cassie is back at work, during her breaks and lunch she goes up to check on you.
Your mom is there, she’s been very attentive and now she and cassie are friendly.
In the pitt everyone kinda tiptoes around cassie
She hates it but she also knows she is very fragile at the moment.
She gets the sick dying woman from season two, and it triggers cassie.
She breaks down in the breakroom.
Samira holds her, tells her she’ll cover her patients.
Cassie goes up to your room. Your mom steps out.
Cassie cries over you, begs you to wake up, she’s a mess without you. She can’t lose you.
The two of you didn’t have enough time.
There was so much more cassie wanted to do with you.
She sobs.
-
Months pass.
It’s not any easier for cassie but she’s sort of in denial a bit.
Work is back to normal for her
She doesn’t visit you as often.
Then your mom goes down to the pitt, tells her they need to talk.
Your mom tells cassie the doctors approached her about taking you off life support.
No sign you would ever wake up.
Cassie asks your mom what she’s going to do.
Mom isn’t sure, that’s why she wanted to talk to cassie.
Cassie says it’s not up to her.
They fight, your mom says she thought cassie loved you, guess she was wrong.
Cassie feels like crap.
After the shift she goes up to see you.
She hasn’t seen you in a few weeks.
Your mom isn’t there, the nurse says she went to her hotel for some rest.
Now alone with you she holds your hand.
She apologizes for not seeing you. It just hurts too much to see you like that.
But she thanks you, for loving her and letting her love you even if it wasn’t enough time even though she wanted so much more time with you.She was thankful she had you at all.
Then she kisses you and goes to leave.
Your heart spikes and it’s a code blue.
They manage to bring you back, and your eyes flutter open.
A/N: Ages are wonky, please just roll with it. The dragons are about to start their dance. Y'all ready?
You did not sleep for very long.
You were roused from sleep by a serving girl. She informed you that your father was dead.
You immediately stood and asked what time it was.
The hour of the wolf, the servant told you.
You instructed her to get your boots. She did so and helped you put them on.
Then you asked who else knew.
The girl told you only you and the Queen knew. She came to you by order of her Grace.
You nodded then told her to gather the rest of the small council.
She left to awake the men and you braced yourself against your bedpost.
This was the last thing you needed. Of all the nights, your father had to die as your world fell apart in front of you.
A part of you felt like you should go to him, to see he was truly gone, but as you turned the thought over in your head you realized you did not wish to see him. You wanted to remember your father alive, not whatever shell of a man lay on his bed.
So you made your way to the small council chamber instead.
You were not the first one there.
Alicent sat in her usual seat.
Had Otto not gotten your message?
She turned to you as you entered. She stood up.
“(y/n),” she breathed, fresh tears in her eyes.
Did she not tire of crying? You briefly thought.
Alicent walked to you but you brought your hand up to stop her.
The heartbreak on her face was plain. She lowered her gaze.
“Did your father not inform you that I relieved you of your seat on the small council?” You asked formally.
Her gaze shot back up to you. “You’re casting me out?”
You looked away from her and walked towards your seat at the head of the table.
Alicent scoffed.
“Have I not been properly punished for my betrayal? Was hearing your wife debasing herself for you not enough?”
“I need you to see to my father,” you replied dispassionately, your back to her.
She was quiet for a moment then sighed.
“As you wish, your Grace,” she spat.
You heard the click of her slippers grow fainter as she left the room.
Once she was gone you let out a deep breath then sat down in your seat. You buried your face in your hands.
What in the seven hells were you going to do? Announce your father’s passing and allow the men to draw up the banners of war?
Your small council entered, their appearances hastily put together.
The men sat down.
Otto turned to you. “Who knows?”
“Aside from those in this room, Alicent and a few of the servants.”
He stroked his beard in thought.
Lord Tyland Lannister looked around. “Know what? Was Dorne invaded?”
“My father is dead,” you spoke plainly.
Lord Tyland’s face paled.
Otto cleared his throat. “We grieve for Viserys, the peaceful.”
The men around the room nodded solemnly. Then they shared uneasy glances.
You knew what they were all thinking. With Viserys gone they no longer had to pretend they supported you as King.
So you stood and placed your hands upon the table.
“If any amongst you wish to depose me and install Aegon as King now would be the time to slay me where I stand and do so,” you commanded.
The men of the small council averted your gaze.
You turned to Otto and placed the dagger from your belt in front of him.
“Go on, my hand. Do what you have craved to do since Aegon was born,” you challenged.
Otto looked down at the dagger then back up at you.
“I swore my loyalty to you, your Grace, and I am not a man who betrays my oaths.”
Then you looked at the other men.
“We are with you, your Grace,” Grand Maester Orwyle affirmed.
You swallowed and nodded. “Very well, let us turn to the task that lays before us.”
“The King is correct,” Otto began, then turned to look at the others. “There is much to be done as we previously discussed. Now, there are two among the captains of the city watch that remain loyal to Daemon. Let us replace them.”
“My uncle will no doubt call on his bannermen and allies to measure the strength of his forces,” you stated as you sat back down.
“We shall do the same,” Otto replied, then looked at Tyland. “Lord Lannister.”
Tyland informed the council of the state of the treasury. The men discussed how certain they were of the realm's Houses allegiance to you. Some were obvious, Highgarden and Winterfell, while others were certainly against you, Storm’s End.
But those were all known factors.
You cleared your throat and drew the men’s attention back onto you.
“What of my uncle and his family?”
Otto glanced at the other members of the council nervously then back to you.
“They cannot be allowed to remain free and draw support to their claim.”
“You mean to imprison them?”
You knew what Otto really wanted, what needed to happen, but you did not want it to continue to go unsaid.
Otto let out an exasperated sigh. He knew what you were angling for, and he did not want to be the one to say it aloud.
“He and his family will be given the opportunity to publicly swear obeisance to you, your Grace.”
You pursed your lips then frowned. “You know as well as I that Daemon will never bend the knee.”
Silence descended upon the council, none would meet your gaze.
“If that is the case, we are left with little choice in the needed course of action,” Otto replied solemnly.
“I do not rejoice in the thought of killing my uncle,” you stated then shook your head softly. “But if he will not bend the knee we will do as we must.”
The silence and averted gazes continued.
You furrowed your brow and turned towards Otto.
He slowly lifted his gaze towards you. “Heirs must not remain to challenge your reign, your grace.”
You scoffed at him then looked around the council. The men shared uneasy glances.
“You plan to kill his children?” You asked in disbelief.
“Just the boys. His daughter can remain your ward and wed Prince Baelon when they are both of age,” Tyland clarified meekly.
You leaned back in your seat. The truth of the matter sank inside you like a rock in a pond.
“Aegon and Viserys are boys of two and ten,” Grand Maester Orrwyle stressed, “Prince Daemon’s supporters would only shift their allegiance to them upon his passing. Any living challenger invites battle and bloodshed.”
You clenched your jaw. “What of his son Aemon? Is he to be killed as well? A boy of only six.”
The council averted their gazes once more.
Otto leaned towards you. “It is unsavory, yes,” he reassured you, “...but a sacrifice we must make to secure your reign.”
“I will not be known as the kinslaying butcher of children,” you denounced in frustration and slammed your fist upon the table.
The men squirmed in their seats.
“What do you suggest, your Grace?” Otto questioned.
You did not have an answer.
He knew that.
So you pushed off your seat and turned towards the opposite wall to think.
“Time is of the essence,” Otto urged.
You sighed and closed your eyes.
This was not what your father would have wanted. That much you were certain of.
“Lord Commander Westerling take your knights to Dragonstone. Be quick and be clean,” Otto commanded.
The rustle of your Kingsguard’s armor rang in the otherwise quiet room.
“I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I recognize no authority but the King’s.”
You turned back around.
Ser Harrold looked at you.
“Is that what you command of me, your Grace?”
Everyone else’s gaze followed.
You bit the inside of your cheek.
The slaughter of innocent children was not a command you could dole out.
So you cleared your throat and spoke authoritatively.
“I shall leave and upon my return I expect you all to have gracious terms of surrender to present to my uncle.”
The men of the small council shared judgemental looks with one another.
You continued. “We have the advantage on the dragon front. Even Daemon is not foolish enough to believe he can go up against the likes of Vhagar and Vermithor.”
Some of the men nodded, expressing they had not considered that.
You started for the doors but Otto’s voice stopped you.
“A raven arrived last night and given the festive nature of last night’s supper I did not want to interrupt but Prince Qoren is once again delaying the wedding of Prince Aemond and his daughter, the Princess Coryanne.”
You grimaced at the mention of House Martell. What you once believed to be the beginning of a prosperous union had devolved into yet another of your failures.
“Should Prince Daemon not bend the knee we must know the Dornish’s true position,” Otto finished coldly.
You didn’t reply. You started anew for the doors.
Once outside you made your way to your aunt’s quarters where she had been joined by Lord Corlys mere hours ago.
Otto ordered all the members of court be confined to their quarters, and the servants taken to the cells below until decisions had been made.
He did not want the word of Visery’s death spread too soon.
Only the small council, your wife, and your children were given the freedom of movement.
The guard opened the door to Princess Rhaenys’ room and you took a fortifying breath before walking in.
You knew your aunt would be irate and as you stood in front of her you noted just how correct your assumption was.
Rhaenys whirled on her heels to face you. “I will do you the considerable courtesy to assume there is a good reason for the outrage of my treatment here this morning.”
You swallowed hard. “I apologize, Princess. There has been a tragedy and I-”
The words caught in your throat. You looked down at your feet. It was as though the truth of your father’s death was finally setting in now that you were not surrounded by the politics of the small council.
Your aunt softened. “Viserys?”
Tears started to well in your eyes. You nodded, your gaze still lowered.
Rhaenys stepped forward and pulled you into her embrace. She sighed.
Your shoulders relaxed in your aunt’s embrace. The tears you tried so hard to keep from falling now stained the velvet of her dress.
Were you anyone else you would have remained in your aunt’s arms and released all your anger and sadness regarding your complicated relationship with your father.
But you were the King.
So you pulled yourself together and pulled away from your aunt.
You cleared your throat as you wiped the errant tears from your eyes.
“All members of court have been ordered to stay in their quarters. The small council and I are planning around the potential of conflict with Daemon.”
Rhaenys nodded slowly. “That is a wise course of action.”
Then you turned towards the other side of the room where Lord Corlys laid. He remained asleep and you noted the haggard nature of his breaths.
“I will send a maester to see Lord Corlys,” you stated then turned back to your aunt.
She smiled sadly. “Thank you, your Grace.”
You brought your hands behind your back and laced your fingers together. “My hope is that you shall all be allowed to roam the Keep freely shortly.”
Before Rhaenys could reply you turned and walked out of the room in a hurry.
The air in the room suddenly felt suffocating.
In the hall you took a deep breath.
The early dawn brought a chill wind to the Keep’s halls.
It eased the warmth of your face.
You looked towards the south end of the hall. It led down to the crypts where you knew the Silent Sisters were already hard at work preparing your father’s body.
As the King you felt it your duty to see to your father’s body.
But as his bastard daughter you had not forgiven him.
And you were sure Alicent was down there with him, tending to him as you had instructed her to.
You did not wish to see her either.
You could not return to your chambers, you felt uneasy and restless. So you started to wander, and soon ended up in Viserys’ room.
The doors were open, no doubt to remove the smell of death but as you neared the Stranger’s stench strengthened.
Death always lingered.
In the center of your father’s quarters you looked at his bed. It was left in a distressed state.
You stepped towards it but thought better of it and stopped.
So you turned your attention to the far side of the room where his scale model of Old Valyria stood proud.
Viserys had worked on it alongside the royal builders for years, practically since you had moved in.
Even as his illness overtook him your father always sat and watched the builders continue to work.
On his lucid days he joined them for a short time before the worst of his aches forced him to stop.
You approached the model and grabbed the small dragon carved from stone.
Rhaenyra was always his favorite but you could never figure out what exactly you were to him.
For the first several years of your life you had no father, then you were told you were the King’s bastard and consequently exiled to Dragonstone for the majority of your youth.
You long believed your father held little to no love for you, as he did for all his children that weren’t born of Queen Aemma.
But he exalted you to King of the Seven Kingdoms. He wed you to Alicent.
You were sure you had never expressed any hint of your true nature to your father but he somehow knew of your deepest desires.
Desires even you did not fully admit to yourself.
Even in his madness, or perhaps because of it, he knew you better than your dear sister had.
Tears returned to your eyes.
Would your father have named your heir had any of Rhaenyra’s previous babies survived their birth?
Would he ever have claimed and legitimized you if Queen Aemma had not insisted?
Viserys did not recall your mother’s name or the night of your conception.
How much could you have really mattered to him?
Maybe you were simply the best option given his dislike of Aegon and the realm’s then distrust of Daemon.
Sadness gave way to renewed anger.
You threw the stone dragon across the room and it shattered against the opposite wall.
“Gods,” you heard a familiar voice gasp.
You turned towards the doors.
Aegon stood in its threshold.
You swallowed your tears and straightened your shoulders.
“What do you need, Aegon?”
Aegon stepped into the room. “Have you seen him yet?”
You shook your head softly. “I don’t think I can.”
“I think I am the same,” Aegon confessed as he neared you.
You met your son’s gaze.
“Do you hate him?”
Aegon’s brows knit together. “Hate Viserys?”
You nodded.
Aegon turned the question over in his mind before he answered.
“I used to. I grew up so desperate for his love. Love that he gave so freely to Rhaenyra,” Aegon admitted.
“What changed?”
Aegon’s eyes softened as he looked at you.
“He named you my father. You were always kind to me, and loved me as a father should have.”
You looked away from Aegon, feeling undeserving of his reverence.
But he continued.
“You believed in me when no one else did, not even my own mother,” he said mirthlessly.
Then you felt Aegon’s hand on your shoulder and you fortified yourself to meet his gaze.
Tears filled his own violet eyes. “I forgave Viserys because while he never loved me he blessed me with a father who did.”
So moved by Aegon’s words you could no longer contain the tears that threatened to overwhelm you.
This time you allowed yourself to bury your face in your son’s shoulder and truly cry.
Aegon held you as shuddering sobs broke through.
You wanted a family who loved you. Above all else that was what you truly wished for.
And even this your father bestowed upon you.
After the last of your cries ended you pulled apart from Aegon and held his face in your hands.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Aegon gave you a small nod.
Then you stepped away and turned to the model of Old Valyria once again.
“Would you think less of me if I could not forgive him?” You mused aloud.
Before Aegon replied you continued.
“I can’t seem to absolve Viserys of his callous disregard for my mother. Lord Matthos passed many moons ago and took the secret of her name and birth to the grave. It seems my father has as well.”
Aegon remained silent.
You touched the intricate work of the model.
However little or much Viserys truly cared for you was now of small consequence.
A battle for the throne loomed ahead of you.
You could not continue to wallow in your feelings of inferiority.
Aegon approached your side and handed you one of the iron poker tools used for the hearth.
“Fuck Viserys,” Aegon quipped.
You smiled. “Fuck him,” you reiterated as you took the hearth poker in your hand.
Aegon turned towards the door.
You put a hand on his shoulder and he turned back to look at you.
“Let us tear down the old and build a stronger realm together, as father and son,” you declared.
Aegon’s features swelled with pride. He nodded eagerly and grabbed another tool from the hearth.
Together you demolished the model of Old Valyria, crushing as much of it into pieces as you could manage.
Dust clouded your vision as the final slabs of the model fell to the floor and shattered.
As it settled you stood to catch your breath.
You turned to Aegon.
He smiled brightly at you.
Your shoulders relaxed for the first time all morning. The restlessness inside you sated by the resolution of your confusing feelings towards your father.
A Targaryen man at arms stood in the threshold of the doors and informed you that the small council had finished writing down the terms of surrender for Prince Daemon.
You nodded and told Aegon to follow.
He dropped the iron poker and did so.
-
You entered the small council room and noted the staleness of its air.
Otto furrowed his brow as he noticed Aegon behind you.
“What is your business here Aegon?”
Aegon turned to you.
You informed Otto that Aegon was the new Master of Laws.
“Prince Aegon?” Tyland questioned.
You turned to him. “Is that a problem?”
Tyland shook his head quickly. “Of course not your Grace.”
“With that settled,” you said and took your seat at the head of the table anew. “What are the terms you have come up with?”
Aegon sank into the seat at your left.
Otto stood and read the terms out loud. “Prince Daemon must acknowledge you as sole heir and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, your Grace will confirm his possession of Dragonstone and upon his passing it will go to Aegon the younger. His son Viserys will be Prince Aegon’s squire, and his youngest son Aemon will be the King’s cupbearer. Finally the king will pardon any knight of lord who conspired to overthrow her.”
You nodded slowly as Otto finished and sat back down.
“Those are most generous terms. I thank you all for the hard work of writing them.”
Lord Beesbury leaned forward. “Who will deliver them, your Grace?”
Aegon raised his hand. “I will go.”
You turned to him and brought his hand down.
“You are my heir Aegon. I cannot afford to send you into danger.”
Aegon frowned.
Then you turned back to Otto.
“As Lord Hand you will sail to Dragonstone and deliver the terms to my uncle.”
You noticed the displeasure flash across Otto’s face before he schooled his features and nodded courteously.
“As you wish, your Grace.”
You ordered the servants and members of court released from their quarters and cells. Then you stood from your seat and declared the session at an end.
-
You returned to your quarters exhausted. You wished to sleep and nothing more but as you stared at the pile of correspondence at your desk you knew you had duties to attend to.
So you sighed and made your way to the desk.
You opened the scroll at the top of the pile. It was the message from Dorne Otto had spoken about earlier.
You unfurled it and read. Sure enough, Prince Qoren was once again delaying the preparations for the wedding.
You threw the parchment onto the desk and rubbed the temples of your head to relieve the building ache.
If Aemond did not wed Princess Coryanne, and House Martell was truly providing aid to the Triarchy then you needed Daemon to accept the terms of surrender.
You did not wish to fight a battle on two fronts.
“Ser Criston, your Grace,” Ser Erryk stated after he entered.
You opened your eyes and nodded for the knight to enter.
Ser Criston walked inside and stopped short of your desk.
“I bring news concerning the undertaking you entrusted to me, your Grace.”
You sat back in your seat and steepled your fingers atop the desk.
“Go on.”
“Larys was tortured for several hours and brought to the very edge of death. He is now resting so that I may continue his punishment in the coming hours,” Ser Criston explained.
Not even the news of Larys’ torture brightened your mood.
“That is heartening to hear Ser Criston. Bathe then see to the Queen,” you ordered.
Ser Criston bowed his head. “As you wish, your Grace.”
Then he left just as quickly as he had walked in.
You were not left alone for very long as just a few minutes later Aemond rushed into your quarters demanding to know what had happened.
After you explained Aemond begged you to let him mount Vhagar and burn down the entire island of Dragonstone.
His eagerness to kill his kin was not lost on you, but you were too exhausted to address it.
So you told him to see to his sister, who you were told had started her birthing labors just moments prior, and Baela as Aegon was otherwise occupied.
Aemond did not seem very pleased with his orders but he followed them.
The pain in your head returned with a vengeance soon after he left. You closed your eyes hoping to lessen it but it seemed to double the pain.
You called out for one of the Kingsguards to bring the Grand Maester, and hoped they could give you something to provide much needed relief.
Summary: It gets worse before it gets better, right?
A/N: The angst is back y'all. As always let me know what you think!
Across the Keep, completely unbeknownst to you, Alicent was being extorted by your Master of Whispers- Larys Strong.
Larys’ payment for aiding you in your trial against Vaemond was steep. He wished to see the Queen’s feet, bare.
Alicent was horrified and disgusted but if she did not comply she knew Larys would go directly to you and tell you of their disgraceful actions.
She sighed and closed her eyes as Larys finished stating his desired form of payment, in great detail.
“Is there not anything else you would accept Larys? A lordship? A beautiful wife?” Alicent bargained.
Larys’ eyes raked slowly over the Queen’s body.
“I have singular interests, your Grace,” he explained. “And I went to great lengths to make sure Ser Vaemond drank the entirety of the poison I slipped into his wine.”
Alicent swallowed hard. She could not escape her fate.
“Very well,” she replied, her tone clipped.
So the Queen brought her feet up to the small table in front of Larys. He sat back in his seat and slipped a hand under his trousers.
-
Ser Criston stood dutiful in his watch as he waited for the Queen to finish her audience with Larys Strong.
He did not care for the supposed Master of Whispers.
Criston found him off putting and untrustworthy.
But he proved useful to you and the Queen, so he swallowed his distaste for the man.
The sun was high in the sky but Criston had the previous night’s watch and had not been relieved at dawn due to your duel with Ser Vaemond.
So his eyes began to grow weary, and the thought of his bed became a siren song to the Dornish knight.
His watch would end when Ser Arryk Cargyll relieved him from his post.
Thankfully Ser Arryk arrived just as sleep threatened to overtake him.
Ser Criston provided Ser Arryk with the needed updates then excused himself.
But as he started towards the White Sword Tower where all the Kingsguard slept he overheard the Queen leave Larys’ quarters in a hurry.
Criston turned and noted the way the Queen attempted to swallow quiet sobs.
Ser Arryk followed the Queen.
Criston furrowed his brow. He thought it odd a simple audience with Larys would elicit such a reaction from the Queen.
So he neared the door to Larys’ chambers. He peered inside but remained hidden in the door’s shadows.
He watched as Larys wiped his manhood with a rag, his seed spent across the table in front of him and on the floor.
Criston’s face twisted in revulsion.
He walked back into the hall and started for his bedchamber, lost in thought.
Had Larys done such an indecent action in front of her Grace? Would the man truly be so depraved and devoid of honor as to do such a thing?
Criston clenched his hands into fists.
He could not harm Larys without cause, and he had no proof of Larys’ misdeed.
So he stopped and turned away from the White Sword Tower. He heaved a heavy sigh then made his way to your apartments.
-
Ser Erryk Cargyll, another one of your Kingsguards, entered and informed you Ser Criston wished to speak with you, urgently.
Ser Criston at your door wishing to speak with you alone, a strange prospect.
You sighed. “Let him in.”
You set aside the mountain of correspondence you had yet to answer.
As Ser Erryk left, Ser Criston entered. He lowered his gaze.
“I’m sorry to disturb, your Grace, but I have a matter of great importance to discuss.”
You sat at the foot of your bed, facing him.
“Speak plainly then.”
Ser Criston cleared his throat then looked up to meet your gaze.
“I witnessed the Queen flee Larys Strong’s quarters just moments ago after Ser Arryk relieved me of my duties.”
“Did you ask the Queen why she fled?” You asked as your forehead wrinkled in thought.
Criston shook his head. “Regrettably, I did not, but I did step closer to the door of Larys’ chambers and I saw him….” Criston’s voice dropped off. He averted his gaze and shifted uncomfortably.
Your concern doubled at the sight of Criston’s unease. He was not a man so easily disturbed.
“Did Larys harm the Queen?”
He shook his head once more. “No..” Then he thought about it. “Well, I am not exactly sure your Grace.”
“What are you sure about Ser Criston,” you asked, irritation growing at Criston’s vague tale.
“That when I peered into the room I saw Larys Strong wipe his manhood with a cloth and noted his spent seed upon the table in front of him,” Criston admitted, his gaze still averted.
Criston’s words settled in your mind, and you could not imagine Alicent would sully herself- and certainly not with a man the likes of Larys Strong.
“Are you saying Larys forced himself upon the Queen?”
“I am not sure your Grace. All I know is I saw her Grace flee the room in tears and caught Larys in a most private act.”
Concern was written plain on Criston’s face, so you knew he was not lying. Not that you could ever imagine Criston lying but given the nature of what he saw it was edifying he was moved by concern and not malice.
You rubbed the back of your neck anxiously.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention Ser Criston. I will find out the truth of the situation,” you declared.
“Thanks is not necessary, your Grace. I simply do my duty as the Queen’s sworn shield,” Criston replied then excused himself.
After Criston left you called Ser Erryk in to inform Otto that you needed his presence immediately.
He bowed then excused himself.
As you waited for Otto you turned Criston’s words over in your head.
If Larys had forced himself upon Alicent, why had she not come to you? Did she not trust you? No, Alicent loved you- you knew that.
But how else would Larys’ seed come to be upon the table so soon after she left his chambers? Though you had never laid with a man you knew enough of what went on with a man’s cock.
The image of Larys’ manhood was not one you wanted to linger upon. So you shook your head free of those thoughts.
Thankfully Otto entered and saved you from further uneasy thoughts.
“You called for me, your Grace?”
You nodded and gestured for Otto to sit opposite you beside the fire.
He did so.
You realized you were not sure how to go about explaining what Ser Criston had told you. Especially as Otto was Alicent’s father.
So you stared at him, mouth agape for a few moments.
His brow furrowed. “Are you well, your Grace?”
You sighed. Unable to think of a delicate way to phrase the events, you opted to be frank.
“Ser Criston informed me he witnessed Alicent flee Larys Strong’s chambers in tears and when he approached the room to divine the cause he saw Larys clean his manhood and his seed off the table in front of him with a rag.”
Otto’s face soured.
“Aye, I felt the same upon hearing this most disconcerting news,” you said and took a sip of wine to calm your nerves.
Otto shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Does Ser Criston believe Larys forced himself upon the Queen?”
You shook your head. “He could not say for certain.”
Otto sighed then stroked his beard as he thought.
“Would you be able to use your influence to divine the truth of this matter?” You asked.
“I will endeavor towards that purpose, your Grace. I will come to you with updates as I have them,” he replied then stood and excused himself.
The duty of reading and replying to ravens sent to the crown was tossed aside. You needed to speak with Alicent.
With that purpose in mind you stood and began to walk towards her chambers.
But you would not be able to speak with your wife.
You were informed your father had ordered the entire family to supper. When you insisted you needed to speak with the Queen first the Kingsguard assigned to your father informed you the Queen was making her way to the dining hall.
So you followed the knight to the grand hall where sure enough Alicent sat to the right of the chair at the center of the table, your seat.
Your father sat to the right of Alicent and the left of your aunt Rhaenys. Rhaena and Baela to the right of her.
Aemon sat to the left of your seat, Helaena to his left, and Aegon on Baela’s right.
Speaking with Alicent would have to wait until after supper.
Otto was noticeably absent, hopefully busy discovering the truth of what had transpired in Larys’ quarters.
All but your father stood as you entered and made your way to your seat.
“You may sit,” you declared as you neared your seat.
You looked at your father, more frail since you had seen him last. It moved you to great pity.
Supper was a true feast before you. You moved to carve the roast pig but Alicent placed a hand atop yours.
“Prayer before we begin, my love?”
You nodded and stilled as Alicent folded her hands and bowed her head in prayer.
Aemond, Aegon, and Helaena did the same.
You did not care for the faith. You were not raised devoutly and did not feel a need to pray before a meal but you knew it was important to Alicent so you always obliged.
So you bowed your head in prayer as you were devoted to your wife like she was devoted to her faith.
Princess Rhaenys, Baela, and Rhaena followed.
“We thank the father for his swift justice in this morning’s trial, we thank the mother for keeping his Grace safe, and may she watch over this gathering with love.”
When she finished, those gathered raised their gaze and you stood to carve the roast pig.
Viserys smiled languidly. “This is truly an occasion for celebration. We are expecting two healthy babes and have one already filling these halls with her joyous laugh, the realm prospers, and my daughter won in combat against a man twice her size- showing the true might of the King.”
Your face warmed under your father’s praise. Once the pig was carved you served yourself, and Alicent before returning to your seat.
The custom was for a wife to prepare her husband’s plate before her own but you were never one to obey them.
You liked to take care of Alicent as she often forgot to care for herself because she was too busy tending to everyone else.
Alicent thanked you then poured fresh wine in the goblet in front of you.
You noted her eyes were still a bit red from crying. It tore at you that you could not speak with her.
Though you did not wish to think the worst had come to pass it was hard to rein in your mind from conjuring such thoughts.
As everyone finished plating their food the doors of the great hall burst open.
Daemon sauntered into the room and stopped short of the table.
You suppressed the desire to roll your eyes at the dramatics of your uncle.
“I believe congratulations are in order for her Grace, the King. A pity my invitation to supper did not reach me,” he said with a smirk.
You stood and smiled cordially.
“We were not expecting your presence tonight, but you are always welcome here, uncle.”
You ordered the servants to bring another seat for Daemon as you sat back down. One hurried to place a seat between Baela and Rhaena.
Daemon sat down. “I wished to know the outcome of Ser Vaemond’s petition, and was pleased to hear my Rhaena proclaimed Lady of the Tides should the worst befall Lord Corlys.”
Rhaena smiled warmly at her father.
Baela did not meet Daemon’s gaze.
Your father came alive in his brother’s company.
“How wonderful the whole family is here.”
Daemon met your father’s gaze. “A pity my lady wife and sons could not make the trip with me.”
Viserys moved to stand. Alicent and Rhaenys aided him then sat down once he was stable and upright.
“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.”
Then he took a moment to catch his breath. His hands rose and untied the golden half mask that covered right eye and cheek. The clatter of the mask echoed in the hall.
The socket of his eye was bare and the entire right side of his face was covered in rot and decay.
Most of those gathered averted their gazes. Only you, Alicent, and Daemon continued to look at your father.
“My face is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was. But tonight I wish you to see me, as I may not, it seems, walk for much longer among you.”
You swallowed the knot of nerves that formed in your throat at your father’s words.
Alicent’s hand snaked around your own, and the tension in your shoulders eased with her soothing touch.
Viserys continued. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts, the crown cannot stand strong if the house of the dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown than for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”
Then he sank back into his seat with great difficulty.
As your father’s words lingered in your mind you rose from your seat and raised your goblet.
“I wish to toast to my lady wife, Queen Alicent,” you began and looked towards her.
She met your gaze with a soft smile.
“She has tended to my father with unfailing devotion, and consoled him in his hours of need. For this and more I thank the Gods for bringing our union together,” you finished.
Everyone at the table, with the exception of Daemon and your father, raised their cups and drank.
When you sat back down Alicent threaded her fingers through yours and gave your hand a squeeze.
“Your graciousness moves me deeply, my King.”
You brought her hand up to your lips and placed a gentle kiss upon it.
Then you ordered the musicians start to play and soon lively music filled the hall.
For a time all gathered ate and conversed with great ease, even your uncle Daemon laughed at a few of your jokes.
Aegon asked Baela to dance, and soon Helaena and Rhaena followed. Helaena’s husband was set to arrive on Lord Corlys’ ship.
As the evening continued Helaena encouraged Aemond to ask Rhaena for a dance. He did, begrudgingly at first, but soon found himself smiling as he and Rhaena danced.
The revelry came to an end when your father was overcome with coughing and pain. Alicent called for the guards to take him back to his chambers.
Silence fell upon the room as your father was carried out, quiet groans escaping him as the movement from the litter jostled him.
Aemond and Rhaena stood aside as the guards passed them on their way out.
Once he was gone your aunt Rhaenys turned to you.
“A pity Aemond is already betrothed to the Dornish princess. He and Rhaena would make a fine match,” she mused as she sipped on her wine.
You looked over at the pair, who had resumed their dancing. You weren’t sure you had ever seen Aemond smile as much as he did dancing with Rhaena.
Before you could respond to her, Daemon scoffed from the other end of the table.
“As if I would allow both my daughters to be wed to bastards.”
Alicent stiffened next to you.
“Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond are trueborn,” she reminded him.
“Which you well know, uncle,” you added.
Daemon downed the rest of the wine in his cup and shrugged.
“They were, but I believe my brother annulled his marriage to you thus rendering them bastards,” he replied venomously.
Silence fell across the hall anew.
Both Aegon and Aemond moved towards Daemon. You raised a hand to stop them. They did.
“It must have been difficult for you, uncle, when my father proclaimed Rhaenyra as his heir,” you replied with a insincere smile, “And more difficult still when you were passed over a second time and this time for his bastard child with a woman whose name he did not even remember.”
Daemon’s jaw clenched.
“If I were my father’s trueborn brother I would feel quite betrayed by such actions," you finished.
Your uncle shot up from his seat and stared daggers at you.
The tension in the room multiplied a thousand fold.
“A final tribute,” you said and raised your cup but remained seated. “To my magnanimous uncle, Prince Daemon.”
Aegon lifted his cup alongside you.
Daemon’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword but before any more movements manifested a messenger rushed into the room with news that Lord Corlys’ ship had just arrived at port.
Rhaenys ordered the boy take her to him, and her granddaughters followed after her.
Daemon flipped his plate over with a flick of his wrist then stormed out of the hall.
You heaved a heavy sigh once he was out of sight.
Alicent placed a comforting hand on your back.
You excused yourself back to your chambers and walked out before anyone else could respond.
On the way you ran into Otto.
“Your Grace, perfect timing I was looking for you.”
You stopped in front of him. “Do you have an update?”
He nodded. “Though what I have gleaned of the situation is not much more than what Ser Criston provided.”
A small frown played upon your lips but you nodded for Otto to continue.
“I was able to gather that Larys was exacting payment for a service he rendered at the Queen’s behest.”
You furrowed your brow. “What form of payment did he exact? For what service?”
Otto sighed. “I apologize, your Grace, that I was not able to glean.”
“A pity, but thank you for the information you did gather. It seems I shall have to address the matter with Alicent in order to reveal the truth,” you replied, weary from the day’s events.
Otto excused himself with a bow then left.
You thought about calling Alicent to your chambers but you knew she would decline and you would never ask the Kingsguards to force her.
So you were left with no choice but to go to Alicent’s quarters.
Thankfully she had not made it back from supper so you were able to walk in and wait for her.
You did not have to wait for long.
Alicent’s eyes widened in surprise when she walked in and saw you sat by the hearth.
“Your Grace, I was not expecting you.”
You grimaced.
“You know I do not care to be called that when it is just us,” you chided gently.
Alicent nodded. “Of course, my apologies.”
You tapped on the seat next to you. “Sit.”
She walked over and sat beside you.
“What brings you to my chambers, my love?”
You steepled your fingers in your lap, avoiding her gaze.
“I’ve sat here for some time, trying to find a delicate way to explain what Ser Criston made me aware of but I haven’t thought of any. So I will just speak it plain.”
Alicent’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”
You took a fortifying breath then looked over at her.
“Did you flee from Larys Strong’s chambers earlier today?”
You noticed the quick widening of Alicent’s eyes and the slight tremble of her lower lip.
“I…I,” she stammered.
Then she averted her gaze and started to pick at the beds of her nails. The tell tale sign she was anxious.
Your heart ached at the sight.
“You can tell me the truth of the matter, Alicent. If he forced himself upon you or offended you please tell me.”
Alicent shook her head softly.
“He did not touch me,” she replied with a whisper.
You watched her, waited for her to say more- but she didn’t.
She simply hung her head in shame, and soon you noticed tears falling down the sides of her face.
You softened. Whatever had transpired it clearly upset Alicent to talk about it.
You reached out and placed a hand atop her nervous fingers.
She stilled.
“I will not force you to tell me. Just know that I love you and only wish to keep you safe,” you said as you placed a gentle kiss to the side of her head.
You stood and moved towards the door but didn’t get far before Alicent’s hand grasped yours.
You turned your head back to look at her.
She met your gaze, her eyes filled with tears, and her lip now in a full quiver.
“My Alicent,” you breathed as you sat back down and wrapped her up in your embrace.
Alicent buried her face in the crook of your neck and you held her as soft cries crescendoed into shuddering sobs.
You rubbed soothing circles on her back as sobs wracked your wife’s body.
Some time later, when her weeps subsided and she was able to collect herself she pulled apart from you.
You produced a handkerchief from the pocket of your tunic and dabbed at Alicent’s remaining tears.
Alicent looked at you, her eyes soft and vulnerable.
You handed her the handkerchief when you were done, and she blew her nose into it.
“I went to his quarters when Ser Criston informed me he had called on me. He wished payment for service rendered,” she sniffled.
Your hand fell to the small of her back.
“What did you ask him to do?”
Alicent’s gaze lowered anew. Fresh tears fell from her eyes.
You furrowed your brow. “What is so horrid you cannot tell me?”
She bit her lip then started on her nail beds once again.
“You must understand,” Alicent said with a sigh, “I was so fearful of losing you against Ser Vaemond…I could not bear even the thought of it.”
She swallowed hard before she continued.
An eerie unease began to crawl up your throat. You worried what rash action Alicent had undertaken.
“So I approached Larys for help.”
Your shoulders tensed. “What did he do, Alicent?”
She covered her face with her hands. “You will hate me.”
You pulled your hand away from her back and folded them in your lap. Larys was not a man who engaged in lawful methods of action. If he did something it was almost always something best left to the shadows of the night.
“I need to know,” you replied coolly.
Alicent’s hands fell from her face. “He slipped slow acting poison into Ser Vaemond’s cup that night to ensure your win by rendering Vaemond weak.”
You shut your eyes and clenched your jaw.
A storm of feelings warred inside you. Anger at her flippant disregard for how it would affect your reign if such an act were to be known. Hurt by Alicent’s lack of confidence in your abilities. Betrayed by her keeping it from you.
Dread weighed the most heavy on you because you had yet to hear what form of payment Larys had demanded.
“What did he ask for in exchange?” You asked, doing your very best to not let your face betray your emotions.
Alicent sighed wearily. “I thought he would request land or a title or even a wife but he…”
You opened your eyes and looked at her.
She swallowed hard before continuing. “He asked to see my feet, bare, upon the table in front of his seat. Then he slipped his hand under his trousers and…”
The words caught in her throat. She could not continue.
Frankly, you did not need her to.
You clenched your hands into fists and contained the fury that coursed in your veins.
“Larys will be handled,” you promised her.
Alicent met your gaze, her eyes watery and sorrowful.
“Are you upset with me?”
You looked away then stood.
“I think it best we sleep alone until I declare otherwise.”
Then you hurried out of the room before your resolve could leave you and you forgave Alicent without a second thought.
As you walked out you heard her sobs resume.
It took everything in you to continue and not stop until you reached the White Sword Tower.
Ser Harrold informed you which room was Ser Criston’s quarters. You ordered Ser Harrold to rouse him from sleep then leave you alone in his room.
Your Kingsguard did so.
Ser Criston sat up in his cot and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“Your Grace, is everything alright?”
You leaned against the wall opposite him.
“I will be brief. Larys Strong needs to be tortured, slowly, for hours or even days then killed,” you commanded calmly.
Ser Criston stood and nodded curtly. “As you wish, your Grace.”
He moved to gather his armor. Then he stopped and turned towards you.
“Is it because of what he did to the Queen?”
You crossed your arms against your chest. “Yes, he has debased her and I will not stand for such an offense.”
“I will seize him at once,” Criston replied and bowed his head.
You turned towards the door then looked back at Ser Criston.
“Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention.”
Ser Criston’s gaze remained downcast. “I only do my duty to the realm, your Grace.”
“Your discretion, and lack of curiosity on what truly went on in that room is also deeply appreciated Ser Criston.”
At this Criston looked up at you. “I do not need to know the details, only that the villain will be held accountable.”
You smiled softly. “I trust that you will see to it that he will.”
“I will, your Grace,” he replied.
Then you walked out of his room and made the trek to your chambers.
The moment you stepped foot inside and the door shut behind you, leaving you completely alone, you released the entirety of your wrath.
You screamed and tossed every vase, cup, and jug of wine to the floor.
What was the point of being the King if you could not even protect your wife from deviants the likes of Larys Strong?
You gazed up at a tapestry with Targaryen heraldry.
Blood of the dragon and yet your wife thought you so feeble she needed to use deceit and trickery to render your opponent weak enough so that even a child would be victorious against him.
So you pulled the tapestry from the wall and flung it over the balcony of your room.
Your chest heaved from all the exertion, but anger still burned bright inside you.
You sat at your desk and quickly wrote out a note for Otto. You ordered him to inform Alicent you relieved her of her seat on the small council.
Then you walked out and asked Ser Harrold to deliver it to the Hand. He bowed and informed you he would.
Once he was out of sight you grabbed your cloak and made your way to one of the many secret passageways of the Keep that lead outside.
You saddled a horse then rode it straight to the Dragonpitt.
The only dragon keeper awake asked you to wait while he awoke the others to ready Vermithor for you but you waved him off and walked straight to the cave where he liked to rest.
Vermithor sensed your anger, he blew a short burst of smoke towards you then lowered his snout for you to rest your forehead against it.
The heat that emanated from just underneath his skin simmered the storm inside you. Tears you had held back since entering Alicent’s quarters fell from your eyes, unable to be suppressed any longer.
Vermithor grumbled against you so you raised your head then climbed upon him.
You gripped the reins then ordered Vermithor to walk.
When you reached the exit you clicked your heels and commanded Vermithor to the skies.
His massive wings kicked up dust and rocks as he flapped them and began to rise.
You relaxed when you felt the cool night air whip across your face. You breathed steadily and deeply.
Then you let out more screams, this time they were even louder. Who would hear you that high up in the sky?
With the last of your anger spent you looked up to the stars and sighed.
“Rhaenyra, this was supposed to be your burden. Why did you leave me with it?”
A sad smile spread across your lips.
“I miss you sister.”
Vermithor clicked impatiently below you.
You patted the skin closest to you. “Alright alright, let’s go fast.”
Sure enough your dragon increased his speed and soon you soared even higher.
The air thinned the higher Vermithor flew but you didn’t care.
A morbid thought crossed your mind.
It would not be the worst thing if you died that night, on your dragon like Rhaenyra did.
You would be free from the constant questioning of your abilities, the incessant resistance of the men of the realm to let you rule.
Then Alicent’s face appeared in your mind’s eye.
Your death would break her, you were certain of that.
Even though you still felt betrayed and upset with her, you loved her and would never want to leave her.
So you ordered Vermithor descend until you felt your lungs fill with enough air.
You rode Vermithor over King’s Landing and over the neighboring land.
As the hour of the owl neared you returned Vermithor to the Dragonpit and made your way back to the Keep.
Upon your return to your chambers you kicked your boots off and collapsed onto your bed, exhausted.
Summary: A free spirit meets a tightly wound ambitious girl at a summer camp and they fall in love. A tale as old as time. Of course it doesn't work out but what happens when that free spirit returns?
A/N: Literally could not find any self inserts for the new show and I've become unhealthily obsessed with it so I hope you all enjoy! (New Trek haters please just move along)
Pressure.
Something Genesis was intimately familiar with.
The driving force behind almost her entire life.
But there was once a time, a brief moment in summer, where the pressures of being an admiral’s daughter were distant unpleasant memories.
For a few weeks in the summer when she was sixteen Genesis Lythe got to experience a normal teenage romance.
The problem?
It was never meant to last, and the memory of it haunted every waking moment of Genesis’ life since.
Never in her wildest dreams- mainly because she didn’t let herself dream such impossibilities- would she have imagined she’d see you again, and at the academy of all places.
You hated Starfleet. You hated rules and chains of command.
Freedom was paramount to you.
So Genesis was rendered mute when she saw you in her ancient philosophies class halfway into her first semester at Starfleet Academy.
Your head was buried in a book.
The corner of Genesis’ mouth quirked upward. You loved ancient Earth, and all its antiquated quirks. Of course you had brought an actual book with you.
Genesis noticed the seat next to you was empty.
She bit the inside of her cheek.
Things weren’t left on the best note when she last saw you. Would you be happy to see her? Would you hate her?
So she took a seat at the front of the class next to Jay-Den instead. Sitting at the front served the dual purpose of forcing Genesis not to sneak glances at you and actually focus on the class.
Not that it actually worked.
She didn’t sneak glances at you but you were the only thing on her mind. Why were you at the academy? Why did you start so late into the semester? What could’ve happened that made you give up the one thing you valued most in life?
Jay-Den gently elbowed Genesis.
Genesis snapped out of her thoughts and turned to him.
He jerked his head towards the front of the class.
The professor was staring expectantly at Genesis.
She frantically tried to piece together what was being taught.
To no avail.
“Cadet Lythe, I expected better from you,” the professor admonished, then turned around to continue the lecture.
Genesis sighed and sank into her seat, face red with embarrassment.
-
It was impossible not to run into her at some point. You knew that.
But nothing could’ve prepared you for actually seeing her.
She was at the other end of the hall, laughing her full melodic laugh, with a few other students.
Your Genesis.
A knot arose in your throat.
You hurried into the classroom, took a seat in the very back, and buried your face in the 21st century Earth romance novel you’d brought with you.
Of course she had to be in the very first class you attended.
The universe, as of late, was unrelenting in its mission to humble you.
Thankfully Genesis sat at the front of the class so you were able to look at her without worrying she would see you.
You weren’t ready to face her. To speak to her.
So much was said that fateful summer night, mostly teenage outbursts of hurt and betrayal. Still, the ghost of your cruel words echoed in your mind.
You scoffed. “Ever daddy’s perfect princess. Don’t you get tired of being the poster child for Starfleet’s propaganda machine?”
The knot returned, engorged and impossible to swallow.
She hadn’t changed a whole lot in the years apart. Her hair was still brown with the usual blonde highlights that she always let grow out before redoing.
You smiled to yourself.
Genesis was so physically close but still emotionally light years away from you.
Unbeknownst to you, your first day was going to get worse before it got any better.
-
Genesis counted down the minutes and seconds until the end of class. She needed to get up, go to you, and……and what?
What was she going to do, realistically?
The heartbroken teenager inside her wanted to confront you, to yell at you and be rid of her regrets.
But the hopeless romantic in her wanted to kiss you and never let you go.
Not a day had gone by since she left you on that dock that she did not think of you.
Even when she kissed others, and there had been others, they paled in comparison to you. To your lips. To your touch. To the way Genesis’ skin felt electric when pressed against yours.
Genesis wanted to sigh.
She couldn’t believe the hold you still had on her. A few minutes in your presence and she was reduced to that naive girl that was whisked off her feet by the president’s rebellious misanthropic daughter.
“That’s all for today class, dismissed,” the professor called out.
Genesis gathered her things, stood, and turned around to face you.
You were already out the door.
She hurried to follow but was stopped in the hall by Sam.
Genesis watched as you disappeared amongst the sea of cadets. She let out a frustrated sigh.
Sam’s brows knit together.
“Is something wrong?”
Genesis let out an amused huff. “Wrong is an understatement.”
She would just have to find you afterwards, somehow.
-
You made it back to your dorm after successfully avoiding Genesis when class concluded.
You knew you couldn’t avoid her forever, eventually you would have to face her, but you would cross that bridge when you got to it.
Now, you had to find a way to get out of ancient philosophy.
The less contact you had with her, the better.
So you pulled out your PADD and began to hack your way into the class registrar.
-
Sam’s brow furrowed.
“So you shared a transformative summer with the president’s daughter but the relationship soured when she asked you to run away with her and you refused and now she’s a cadet but you didn’t go up to her before class started and she got away from you afterwards?”
Genesis nodded. “That’s a fair summary.”
Darem pursed his lips. “Didn’t peg you for a coward Lythe.”
“I’m not a coward,” Genesis rebuffed.
Caleb tilted his head to one side as he continued to eat his lunch.
“I dunno, kinda sounds like you chickened out.”
Genesis stood from the table.
“Whatever,” she muttered. “I’m going to go study before my next class.”
Then she sauntered off towards her dorm room.
Her friends’ words lingered in her mind. Had she really been a coward? Should she have sat next to you? Force you to acknowledge her?
Instead of ending up at her room, Genesis' feet took her to the gym. There was too much anxious energy bouncing around inside her. She needed to punch, climb, or kick something- anything.
Time blurred for Genesis. Memories of that summer flashed in her mind. Every time she managed to swat the thought away another would replace it.
Genesis threaded her fingers through yours. The warmth of the Illyrian sun washed over the two of you as you sat at the edge of the pier.
Silence hung between you and Genesis. It was the final week of the Federation’s youth exchange program.
Neither of you were sure if you’d ever see the other after the program finished. Her father was an admiral, traveling ceaselessly, and your mother was the Federation president.
Your worlds were so close and yet so far apart that it was a wonder you ever met in the first place.
You looked over at Genesis. The sun created a halo around her messy brown and blonde tresses.
You smiled softly.
“I’m going to miss you, so much,” you lamented.
Genesis shook her head. “Don’t talk like that. We’re going to see each other again.”
You brought her knuckles up to your lips then placed a gentle kiss on them.
“Loving you Genesis Lythe has been the greatest privilege I’ve ever experienced.”
Genesis frowned.
She didn’t want reality to sink in, not yet, not while there was still time.
“Let’s leave the sad goodbyes for Sunday night.”
She brought her forehead to rest against yours.
“Today I just want to bask in the sun with you,” she whispered.
“Okay,” you agreed then pressed your lips against hers.
Tears welled in Genesis’ eyes as the memory manifested in her mind’s eye. She hit the punching bag harder and harder with each stroke.
Then she switched to martial arts training, sparring with a preprogrammed hologram.
Before she knew it Genesis had spent four hours at the gym. She skipped three classes.
Genesis sank to the floor. She had never skipped any class before, for any reason. She showed up sick or healthy, rain or shine.
Why did your presence discombobulate her so much?
She sighed.
Genesis knew why, though she loathed to admit it.
It wasn’t just how you two had left things, it was also that her feelings for you hadn’t lessened even after all this time.
She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the wall.
Genesis chased after you all the way to the pier.
It was after curfew on the last night of the program. In the morning you would board the shuttle that took you back to Federation headquarters where you resided with your family and Genesis would board the shuttle back to wherever her father was currently stationed. She hadn’t bothered to keep up correspondence after the first week.
“(y/n),” she called out.
You threaded your fingers together and brought them against the back of your head. You peered up at the starry night sky.
“I can’t do it Gen. I can’t go back,” you breathed.
Genesis walked up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll stay in touch and I’ll visit you next summer.”
Your hands fell to your sides. You leaned back against Genesis, savoring her warmth. Then you sighed and pulled away from her. You faced her with a sad expression.
“You know we won’t.”
“I don’t know that, actually,” she replied and crossed her arms against her chest. “I plan to fight for this relationship, do you?”
You sighed.
“My mother was clear Genesis.”
You approached her and softened your gaze.
“After I complete the remainder of my primary education I’m getting shipped off to the War College.”
You threaded a finger through Genesis’ hair, reveling in the softness of it.
“She won’t accept anything short of total discipline, no distractions.”
Genesis dropped her arms.
“Did you try talking to her about it?”
You opened your mouth to respond but she cut you off.
“Actually talk to her, not just bring it up then storm off the second she pushes back against you.”
“You don’t understand,” you replied, your hand falling from her hair.
Then you turned away from her and started to pace about the pier.
“My brother, my sister, my mother, her mother, her mother’s mother, every known (y/l/n) ancestor became Starfleet lieutenants, captains, commanders, or admirals. You have no idea what it’s like to have your entire life predetermined,” you rambled.
Genesis scoffed. “I have no idea what it’s like to have life predetermined? Are you serious?”
You stopped pacing, realizing the offense you’d wrought. “It’s different for you. Your family isn’t-”
“Isn’t what?” She dared as she stepped towards you. “Successful? Famous?”
“Storied,” you admitted then braced her arms with your hands. “Your dad is a great admiral, no contest, but my ancestors can be directly traced to the very founding of Starfleet. No (y/l/n) in history has chosen a different path,” you stressed.
Genesis searched your gaze, her brow furrowed.
“That can’t possibly be true. Someone in your family had to have wanted to sing or paint or anything not Starfleet related.”
You gave her a slight nod. “Oh yeah there are plenty of artists in my family….but that all came second to being Starfleet officers.”
She brought your hands down with her own then laced your fingers with hers. Genesis stared down at your intertwined hands.
“War college won’t be that bad,” she argued.
You grumbled in response.
Genesis met your gaze and closed the distance between the two of you. “I’ll be there just a year after you start. We’ll get to be together again far far from your family’s prying eyes,” she continued and wrapped your arms around her waist then let go of them. “They won’t know just how distracting I can be.”
You begrudgingly smiled and brought her close against you. You let the worry and stress of your predetermined future fade, for a brief moment, as you focused on the feeling of Genesis’ lips against your own.
A languid, tender, hopeful kiss. A kiss not meant to last.
“The only reason I didn’t leave this stupid program was because of you. You made it bearable,” you confessed after pulling your lips from hers.
Genesis cupped your face with her hands.
“I can make War College bearable too,” she promised.
You leaned into her touch.
For a moment Genesis believed she had won you over. Maybe her love was enough. Maybe she was enough.
Then you pulled away from her completely and turned away from her.
“What about after college? You’ll make a lifetime of strict protocol bearable?”
You let out an exasperated huff then whirled back around to face her.
“I can’t live my life with the only light in it being you Genesis. Regardless of how much I love you.”
Genesis lowered her gaze, her stomach sinking. “If not War College then what will you do?”
You were silent for a beat then stepped forward and hooked a finger under her chin. You titled her gaze up to yours.
“I’m leaving.”
Genesis’ brows knit together. “Yeah, we all are tomorrow morning.”
“No, I’m leaving tonight,” you clarified.
Genesis’ forehead wrinkled.
“What?”
You reached out and held her hands with your own.
“I’m running away. First into the city then I’ll sneak onto a freighter and go as far away from my family as I can.”
Genesis gaped. “That’s…reckless.”
“Come with me,” you said, then gave her hands a squeeze.
“Where?” Genesis questioned.
“Does it matter? We’ll see new planets and meet all kinds of people. It’ll be an adventure.”
You held her gaze, hopeful.
Genesis’ throat ran dry. “I- I,” she stammered. Then she pulled her hands away and stepped back. “I can’t.”
The hope disappeared from your eyes. You frowned and slumped your shoulders.
The look of heartbreak on your face, of betrayal, Genesis would never be able to forget it.
But she wouldn’t have ever said yes.
She wanted Starfleet. She wanted a life of service.
She wanted that life with you at her side.
Finally, Genesis let the tears fall from her eyes.
-
Xenobiology was not a class you chose, it was mandatory. You didn’t hate science, it just wasn’t a big interest of yours so it was difficult to rouse the necessary dedication to its study.
Thankfully Genesis was not in any more of your classes.
A bubbly girl with brown eyes and a pearly white smile approached you after you sat down.
“I’m Sam,” she said with an outstretched hand.
You shook it awkwardly. “ (y/n).”
Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re-”
She was subsequently cut off by the instructor beginning his lecture. He instructed everyone to pick a partner as the class activity and homework assignment required a lab partner.
Sam turned to you. “Want to be lab partners?”
Her smile was so eager and optimistic it reminded you of a certain admiral’s daughter.
You half nodded. “Why not?”
Sam let out an excited squeal then stood to inform the instructor. She returned moments later with the alien faunal zygote you’d been tasked to genetically map and mature.
“This is going to be so much fun,” Sam said, then placed the tube with the zygote in front of you.
You smiled, for the first time since you’d stepped foot in the academy.
“Okay,” you said, then grabbed your PADD. “Let’s do this.”
When class concluded Sam invited you to dinner with her and her friends.
“They’re really cool, like me,” she beamed.
You let out a small laugh. “They sound lovely.”
You weren’t exactly up for meeting new people or making friends but Sam was insistent and too sweet for you to turn down.
So you followed her down to the mess hall but stopped short as you were summoned to the Chancellor’s office.
You excused yourself and made your way to her office.
-
As soon as you were out of sight Sam ran into the mess hall and towards the usual table she and her friends congregated at.
But there was no sign of Genesis.
Sam furrowed her brow. “Where’s Genesis?”
Darem shrugged. “She wasn’t in advanced astrocartography.”
“She wasn’t in xenolinguistics either,” Caleb added.
“That’s odd,” Sam remarked. “She would never skip one class let alone two.”
Then panic started to rise inside her.
“Do you think she’s sick? Or maybe she was kidnapped?”
Caleb stood and placed a calming hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“Her ex is here, she probably just needed air,” he explained.
Sam nodded slowly. “That makes sense. From my research into organic interpersonal relationships the ending of a romantic relationship can cause much distress.”
Caleb smiled. “There you go.”
“I’m going to go find her and provide emotional support,” she stated then started for the room she shared with Genesis.
But Genesis was not there.
So Sam searched any other place she could think of. Nothing.
Then it clicked, the gym!
Sure enough Genesis was there when Sam arrived.
Sam found her on the ground, her face in her hands. She hurried over to her.
“Are you alright?”
Genesis’ head snapped up, then she stood and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Yeah yeah just- it’s nothing.”
“Are you sure,” Sam pressed.
Genesis nodded. “Of course. What’s up?”
“(y/n) is in my xenobiology class,” Sam exclaimed, unable to contain her news any longer.
Genesis’ eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Sam nodded. “She’s also my lab partner and after class I wanted to bring her over to our table for lunch but then she got summoned to the Chancellor’s office.”
“Do you know why?” Genesis asked, brow furrowed.
“No idea,” Sam replied.
Genesis quieted, lost in thought.
Sam regarded Genesis, and uncertainly briefly flashed across her holographic features.
“Was it okay that I wanted to bring (y/n) to meet our friends?” Sam asked.
Genesis opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Sam.
“I was not sure how to proceed when I found out your ex girlfriend was not only in my class but also agreed to be my lab partner. She’s quite funny and kind, though I’m sure you knew that- or perhaps not since she’s no longer your girlfriend,” Sam rambled. “But my thought process was that her presence at lunch would bring about catharsis, which from my reading on the psychology of organics, leads to closure and healing.”
Genesis’ gaze softened as she watched her best friend babble on. Then she smiled softly.
“Of course it was okay Sam. I know I will need to talk to (y/n) eventually.”
Sam nodded curtly. “Got it. I will make sure not to fail my mission when I see her tomorrow in class.”
Genesis looped her arm through Sam’s and started for their shared dorm.
-
Chancellor Acke was not at all what you were expecting her to be like.
She was kind of cool, if you were being honest.
Though she was very much not happy to see you in her office.
“Cadet (y/l/n),” she began with a beleaguered sigh. “Would you care to explain why you hacked into the class registrar and removed yourself from your ancient philosophy course?”
You gritted your teeth.
How had they caught you? You’d been careful.
And you were certainly not new to hacking.
Chancellor Acke cleared her throat.
You looked up at her, and realized you had been lost in thought.
“Apologies chancellor.”
She removed her glasses and they landed on her desk with a light clack. “Your mother personally called to discuss your course load before you began. She said ancient philosophy would be a class you would really enjoy.” Chancellor Acke leaned forward. “What happened?”
“My mother was correct in her assumption. I am very interested in the topic but I can’t be in that class,” you replied.
The chancellor narrowed her gaze at you. “Why?” She pressed.
You swallowed. You couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. It was far too embarrassing.
“I just don’t vibe with the instructor,” you lied.
Chancellor Acke’s brow furrowed. “You don’t ‘vibe’ with the professor?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“Mmm,” she mused, “I don’t think that’s the truth.”
You crossed your arms against your chest. “Well it is, sorry to disappoint.”
She leaned back in her seat, spun around, then got up and crossed over to your side. Chancellor Acke leaned against her desk while she faced you.
Of course she didn’t believe your lie.
After she continued to press you for the truth you gave in and admitted that someone you did not wish to see was in that class so you switched out of it.
Chancellor Acke’s eyes lit with intrigue.
“Ooh, is it an ex boyfriend? Ex girlfriend? Ex partner?”
Your face warmed. You averted your gaze. “Ex girlfriend.”
The chancellor pursed her lips in thought.
“I empathize with you cadet (y/l/n). I have my own share of exes I would willingly fight hoards of Venari Ral instead of ever seeing again but,” she began and walked back to her seat. “You are here to learn and grow so take this as an opportunity to do just that.”
You looked up at her with a frown. “Please chancellor I will take any punishment but I can’t be in that class.”
Chancellor Acke’s nose wrinkled. “Oh sweetie, that's not your punishment.” Then she sat down and put her glasses back on. “Three weeks of manual labor is.”
Your shoulders sagged. “Great,” you murmured.
“You’re dismissed cadet (y/l/n),” the chancellor said and returned her attention to her PADD.
You stood and walked towards the door, but stopped halfway. You turned back towards the chancellor.
“Will you be informing my mother of this?”
Chancellor Acke peered over her glasses and looked at you. “Do you want me to?”
You shook your head.
She smiled softly. “Let’s not make hacking a habit then.”
You nodded and left her office.
Back in your dorm room you sank onto your bed. Not even a full day at the academy and you were already in trouble.
At least your mother wouldn’t find out.
Small victories.
-
Genesis stared at her PADD but was not paying any attention.
Her mind was back on you.
So distracted, she did not hear Darem enter the room until he threw one of Sam’s pillows at her head.
Genesis whipped her head towards the door. “What was that for?”
“I’ve been trying to get your attention but you were entranced by whatever is on your PADD,” Darem explained.
Her face flushed. “Sorry.”
Then Genesis set her PADD aside.
Sam piped up. “Darem invited us out to the Academy.”
Darem crossed the room and sat down next to Genesis.
“We’ll get a few drinks, blow off some steam, and have a good time.”
Genesis frowned. “I don’t know guys, I have a lot to catch up on.”
“Can we please go Genesis,” Sam pleaded. “Caleb adjusted my settings and I promise I will handle myself a lot better tonight.”
Darem playfully jostled Genesis’ shoulder.
“Come onnnnn. You can’t tell me a shot or two won’t ease your nerves regarding your ex.”
Genesis bit the inside of her cheek.
A drink or two would help her relax, and maybe she would find a hot guy or girl at the bar and forget all about you.
She sighed.
“Let’s go.”
Sam and Darem high fived then led Genesis out of the room.
-
The air in your room felt suffocating and stale. You looked around at the barren quarters.
You chose not to bring anything but two of your favorite books with you.
It’s not like you had a lot to bring anyways.
You got used to traveling light as you hopped from outpost to freighter to any other ship you could get passage on.
The things your mom insisted you needed to bring were remains of a bygone life. A life where you wanted her approval over everything. A life where all you wanted was what she wanted for you.
And yet, here you were- fulfilling your family’s destiny of becoming a part of Starfleet.
You tried to tell yourself this was different. It was on your terms. The academy wasn’t like the War College. You could pursue your interests within engineering. They couldn’t force you onto the command track.
But in the back of your mind you felt like a failure, a coward.
Things got rough out in the real world so you went crawling back to your mother, and the security she offered.
You stood up and walked out of your room. You needed air. Real air. Not the recycled stuff they filtered through every room.
Once outside you finally felt yourself breathe.
The cold San Francisco air whipped around you. It soothed the heat of guilt and embarrassment.
You made your way to the very edge of campus. You sat on a bench that faced the beach, the rocky shore just ahead of you and the looming presence of the Golden Gate Bridge to your left.
The stars shone bright above you, and you felt at peace once again.
The academy was different because it was on Earth. Earth was ancient and powerful and you felt particularly drawn to the little blue planet.
It called to you like an ancient siren.
You closed your eyes and let the cold and salty sea air wash over you.
-
Genesis was glad she’d gone out.
She did not find someone to make her forget about you- but she did have a shot contest with Darem and won.
She danced with her friends and managed to get rid of all the stress and anxiety that plagued her.
True to her word, Sam did not get wasted this time. She got appropriately tipsy and was able to return to the academy on her own two feet.
But as they approached the dorms Genesis felt a desire to be alone.
So she told her friends she needed some air then walked off towards the edge of campus that overlooked the bay.
Genesis mindlessly walked towards the water but stopped in her tracks when she spotted you on the bench in front of her.
She turned around, stopped again, turned back around, looked at you- froze, then turned around again.
Genesis sighed aloud.
What was she doing? Acting like a child.
She turned towards you, squared her shoulders, and walked up to the bench.
Genesis Lythe was not a coward.
She noted how your eyes widened as you spotted her approaching you.
You looked around for an escape but it was too late.
Genesis stopped right in front of you and folded her arms against her chest.
“Looks like you decided to be part of Starfleet’s propaganda machine after all,” she spat.
You swallowed hard then stood up.
Genesis’ resolve threatened to leave her but she would remain resolute. You owed her.
-
You opened your eyes to find Genesis walking towards you, a determined look on her face.
Fuck.
You looked around but there was no way to leave without making it obvious you wanted to avoid her.
Then suddenly she was in front of you.
“Looks like you decided to be part of Starfleet’s propaganda machine after all,” she spat.
You swallowed hard then stood up.
“Nice night out isn’t it?”
Genesis scoffed. “Seriously?”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” you admitted.
Though you knew exactly what she wanted you to say.
“What are you doing here (y/n)?” Genesis asked plainly.
“Same reason everyone else is,” you replied nonchalantly.
Genesis let out a huff. She shook her head softly.
“What happened to running away on a freighter?”
You shoved your hands in your pockets. “I did make it onto one. Traveled around for a bit before Starfleet officers found me and dragged me back home.”
Genesis searched your face.
You wanted so badly to reach out and kiss her. She was just as beautiful as you remembered.
“You never called, never sent a message. Why?” Genesis demanded with a piercing gaze.
You averted your gaze, embarrassed.
“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. The last things we said to each other weren’t exactly kind.”
Genesis dropped her arms back to her sides. “Even more reason for you to have reached out.”
You met her gaze and softened.
“I’m sorry Genni.”
Genesis stepped back and turned away from you.
“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
Your stomach twisted in knots.
You knew no apology would suffice. Too much time had gone by for you to make it up to her with a simple sorry.
Silence fell between you.
Genesis brought her hand up and wiped something from her face.
You figured they were tears. It made you feel even worse.
Then she turned back towards you.
“So if you weren’t off on an intergalactic adventure why weren’t you here at the start of the semester?”
You took a deep breath. “Unsurprisingly, I ran away earlier this year. Got as far as the Andorian sector…” You trailed off, the uncomfortable memory of why you willingly went home to your mom flashed in your mind.
Genesis noticed. “Officers brought you back to your mom again?”
You looked down and toyed with the hem of your jacket. “Not this time.”
Genesis took a step closer. “Did something happen?”
“It’s uh-,” you cleared your throat then looked back up at her. “Nothing.”
You feigned a smile.
She didn’t buy it but she also didn’t push it.
“So you just finally gave in? Gave up your freedom for a life of duty?”
You shrugged. “War College wasn’t my only option anymore. My mom said they were bringing back the Academy.”
Genesis’ brow furrowed. “What difference would it make? We still follow protocol and chain of command.”
You sat back down on the bench and patted the spot next to you. Genesis sat down but not too close.
“The difference is that,” you said and pointed to the Golden Gate Bridge. “Earth is ancient and real. It’s not some military outpost where all the light is artificial and the food straight from replicators. I’m still free here,” you explained.
Genesis shook her head. “All it took for you to grow up and stop running was food grown in dirt?”
You looked over at her and frowned. “That’s an oversimplification."
“Whatever,” Genesis replied flippantly and looked away from you.
You bit your lip, wondering if you should keep talking.
“I asked about you,” you admitted.
Genesis whipped her head back towards you.
“What?”
You smiled softly as your gaze raked over her features. “When my mom told me about the academy, I asked if you were here or if you’d gone to the war college.”
“What’d she say?” Genesis asked and turned her body towards you.
You held her gaze.
“That it didn’t matter. You were a distraction I didn’t need. What mattered was maturing and living up to the family name.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh,” she sighed.
You reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
-
Genesis swallowed hard as she watched you with baited breath.
“Goes to show how little my mother knows me,” you mused. “You matter more to me than a stupid last name.”
Maybe it was the alcohol in her system. Maybe it was because you were looking at her like she was water in the desert.
Or maybe it was simply because she still cared about you.
Genesis let out the breath she was holding. “Screw it.”
Then she framed your face with her hands and brought your lips against hers.
Your arms wrapped around her waist and you pulled her closer.
It was a messy, hungry, long overdue kiss.
And it was so effortless.
Like no time had passed at all.
Your lips fit perfectly against Genesis’. Your arms felt just as strong and steady.
Later, Genesis would admonish herself for the way she melted in your arms.
But in the moment she would savor the taste of your lips.
The lingering smell of your cologne. The softness of your skin. The way you let out a small moan when Genesis deepened the kiss with her tongue.
It was all a heady cocktail that she wanted to drown in.
-
The kiss was a surprise but not unwelcome. It felt like she had read your mind.
Memories of that summer flashed in your mind.
Making out under the stars, at the pier, under the canopy of trees, anywhere and everywhere. You couldn’t get enough of Genesis Lythe.
And that was still true.
You pulled her closer and felt the rush of heat that traveled down and settled between your thighs. You ached for her.
But of course it didn’t last. It never did.
Genesis pulled away abruptly. She touched her lips with her fingertips then got up and ran off towards the dorms.
“Genesis, wait,” you called out.
It was useless. You knew she wouldn’t stop.
And it would be just as useless to run after her.
She’d just beat you back to her room and not let you in.
You sighed and buried your face in your hands.
How were you supposed to make it through the night let alone the semester when all you could think of was Genesis?
You’d be the very first (y/l/n) to flunk out of the Academy.
-
Genesis’ heartbeat rang like an ancient church bell in her head. The thumping in her chest felt so much like a myocardial infarction that she debated going to the infirmary.
Had she really just kissed you? Even though she was still so angry with you? Had she really folded that fast in your presence?
She made it to her room and crashed onto her bed.
Thankfully it seemed like Sam was already in sleep mode so Genesis could wallow in her confusing emotions in peace.
Genesis wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why was she acting like one?
Why did she turn into a blushing schoolgirl every time she was near you?
She grabbed the nearest pillow and buried her face in it.
The worst part?
You were just as good a kisser as Genesis remembered. Maybe even better.
A small, okay maybe not so small, part of her allowed her to think maybe things could be different. Maybe the two of you could get back together.
You were at the academy now, and you’d grow to love Starfleet.
Genesis was sure of it…..or at least she wanted to convince herself she was sure of it.
But the truth was Genesis wasn’t even sure you’d last a full week before running away.
And she could not let you break her heart a second time, not when there was too much at stake for her.
She screamed into the pillow then tossed it aside and stood up.
Genesis walked over to her desk and grabbed her PADD.
She needed to get out of ancient philosophies.
Her path led to the captain’s chair and she would let you be an obstacle to that.
Your mother was right about one thing, no distractions.
No matter how cute you were, or how soft your lips felt.
Genesis shook the image of kissing you out of her head and messaged Caleb.
Summary: Never a dull moment as King your abilities are further called into question when trouble with heirs comes back up.
A/N: Dearest reader, you ARE the father. I hope you are all enjoying this series. The idea came to me in the middle of the night as I tried to fall asleep and I called out of work the next day to write the vast majority of it.
You sat across from Otto in front of the hearth in his quarters. You nervously sipped on your goblet filled with wine.
He avoided your gaze and you avoided his. Neither of you prepared on how to handle the reality of Alicent's pregnancy through magick.
But you needed to strategize on how best to deliver the news to the realm, or how to keep the information from leaking.
Otto cleared his throat and sat up in his seat.
"Unprecedented events have become quite commonplace during your reign, your grace," Otto jested.
At least you thought he was trying to joke with you. He smiled nervously.
"Yes, uh...it has been a most humbling ascension." You swallowed another bit of wine.
Otto sighed. "Your grace, the matter at hand has no easy path forward. As you said many will believe the Queen betrayed you and bedded another, a man, and will think you weak if you do not punish her accordingly."
You finally met his gaze. "And if we reveal the child is a product of blood magick those who believe it will fear his birth. Those who seek my removal from the throne will see support for their cause double."
Otto nodded. "I'm afraid so."
"Then what are we to do?" You asked wearily.
Otto softened.
He looked at you not as an obstacle, or a nuisance, or an unfortunately ally but as a daughter.
You weren't even sure he had ever looked at Alicent with such compassion.
"You will weather the storm this development will cause as you have weathered every tribulation since Viserys named you his heir," he declared with a fortifying confidence.
You smiled. "Thank you Otto."
He raised his cup towards you. "Cheers to my unborn grandson."
You mirrored his action then drank more of your wine.
Then you and Otto started to strategize in earnest. It would be near impossible to keep Alicent's pregnancy a secret, and even if you could in the short term once her belly swelled it would not be possible to hide.
So revealing the news yourself would be your only true course of action.
You would proclaim to first the small council, then your court, that you and Alicent wished to conceive of a child of your own.
Alicent, ever a devout woman, prayed to the Gods every day and night.
The mother, in all her wisdom, granted Alicent's wish.
The tale would not fool all but it gave a nicer veneer to the magick involved. Valyrian blood magick evoked the horror of Maegor's rule. An act of divine intervention from the Gods was holy, beautiful, and honorable.
Those that did not believe the tale would no doubt believe Alicent betrayed her marriage vow to you.
For that Otto proposed two paths. The first would be to "slyly" arrest a man, one of no note or consequence, and slay him as punishment for forcing himself upon the Queen while she slept.
You did not wish to put an innocent man to death.
Otto assured you there were plenty of guilty men in the streets of King's Landing if the man's innocence was what bothered you.
The second path Otto proposed would be to use Larys' network to disseminate the idea that Viserys approached Alicent in one of his flights of madness and bedded her believing she was still his wife.
Neither appealed to you.
But Otto was clear, there was no other choice.
So that night you approached Alicent and asked which story she could live with being whispered in the halls of the Keep.
She did not like her choices but appreciated that you let her decide.
It seemed Viserys going mad and mistaking Alicent as his wife would be the least embarrassing. He was once her husband and she would not be too sullied by such an act.
Or so she thought.
The next day you gathered the small council and put in action the plan you devised with Otto and Alicent.
Lords Tyland and Beesbury were shocked and clearly did not buy the divine gift from the Gods story but they did not voice such feelings. Grand Maester Orwyle was told the truth prior to the session being called. He would be Alicent's main physician, he needed to know the truth. But he played along during the small council session.
The Lords congratulated you nonetheless but the rest of the session had an air of awkwardness hanging over it.
The realm's reaction was very much as predicted.
Those devout to the faith of the seven believed the story of your son's divine conception and declared you to be a King truly chosen by the Gods. The high septon was not as convinced but did not dissuade those who believed.
Those who did not care for the faith believed your wife had been unfaithful. At first there was much gossip about who the babe's true father was but as Larys' network disseminated the story about Viserys they came to believe that. And of course they mocked you ceaselessly for being a cuckold.
You heard word that the mummers of the city held unflattering plays of you. Poor Alicent was cast in an even worse light in the plays.
The worst reactions were those who did not believe the tale about the Gods or Viserys.
A small but sizeable amount of those at court were able to divine that Alicent's child was a product of blood magick. Several whispered in court about Maegor's second coming. They condemned not only the child but your right to sit the throne.
You frequently consulted with Otto and Larys to monitor the reactions and closely follow those whose disapproval rose to higher concern.
Thankfully the calamity of your unborn son's conception was soon overshadowed by the end of the war in the Stepstones just a few months after it was known.
The crown emerged victorious and in celebration you gifted bread, coin, fruit and a reduction in taxes for the smallfolk.
Lords Beesbury and Tyland were not happy with your generosity but you needed your subjects to move past Alicent's pregnancy.
Unfortunately, news reached King's Landing that your cousin Ser Laenor was killed in the final battle and Lord Corlys was gravely injured.
Upon the news of the Sea Snake’s wound you received a raven from his brother, Ser Vaemond Velaryon. He petitioned the crown to name him as his older brother’s heir.
So by week’s end all members of house Velaryon descended upon the Keep. Lord Corlys’ ship was rerouted to King’s Landing.
The morning you were set to hear Vaemond’s petition you met your aunt, and Rhaena in the Godswood.
They had already met with Baela so she joined you all under the weirwood tree at the center of the Godswood.
Princess Rhaenys was overjoyed at the news that Baela was with child. Baela and Rhaena went on ahead, giggling and thinking of potential names for the babe.
Then Rhaenys turned to you.
“I believe congratulations are also in order for you, your Grace.”
You let out a laugh. “Thank you Princess. It's been quite a shock."
Rhaenys smiled. “An unexpected gift,” she reasoned.
You grew tired of pretending everything was alright. Your shoulders sagged.
"In truth, I would not say the babe's conception a gift. What little support I gained through the prosperity brought on by my reforms has been squandered. Those who do not mock me for cuckoldry, loathe me because they fear the second coming of Maegor the cruel,” you rambled, exasperated by the repeated calamities you were forced to reckon with.
Your aunt heaved a great sigh.
“That is a terrible quandary indeed, your Grace.”
You smiled ruefully. “And I no stranger to quandaries."
Rhaenys’ smile returned.
“On a brighter note at least you do not have to suffer the pain of the birthing bed.”
Your smile faded. “That is for the best. All I know of my own mother was that she died giving birth to me. I fear a similar outcome would befall me should I have been the one to carry that burden,” you mused.
Rhaenys placed a comforting hand on your arm.
You shook the melancholy from your thoughts and moved onto the matter that brought your aunt to King’s Landing.
“What do you plan to do about his petition?” She asked you.
“I will listen to his argument with an open mind, but I know I will not name him your lord husband’s heir. Not while Rhaena still lives.”
Rhaenys’ brows knit together in surprise. “You plan to declare Rhaena the heir to Driftmark?”
You nodded. “Of course, as Laenor has regrettably passed and Baela is set to be the realm’s next Queen consort, the honor of Lord of the Tides falls to Rhaena. As she is not yet of age I will declare you regent until she is.”
“It is a smart strategy to affirm the right of a woman to inherit over a more distant male family member,” she reasoned.
“It is also what is right in this case,” you countered.
Rhaenys huffed. “Lucky for Rhaena, though Vaemond will not agree.”
The hour to hear Vaemond’s petition neared so you turned to face your aunt and spoke plainly.
“I will honor Rhaena’s claim regardless of your answer to this question, know that, but I would like to know if I can count on yours and the Sea Snake’s support should things lead to war after my father passes.”
Rhaenys regarded you for a moment before she replied.
“Should my cousin come to pass and the realm gets plunged into war, you can count on House Velaryon’s full support.”
You let out a relieved sigh and smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”
Rhaenys mirrored your smile. “You doled out mercy and kindness that night in Driftmark when Baela injured Prince Aemond, and now she tells me that she is tremendously happy here. Prince Aegon has proved to be a fine husband to her. For this I am in your debt, your Grace.”
You gave your aunt a hug then departed as you needed to discuss some matters with your small council before hearing Vaemond’s petition.
-
The hour of Ser Vaemond’s petition arrived. You sat upon the throne, crown atop your head, and Blackfrye at your side.
Otto started the proceedings and called Ser Vaemond forth to present his petition.
“My King,” Ser Vaemond began and bowed to you. “The history of our noble houses extends beyond the seven kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this land knowing that if they were to fail it would mean an end to their bloodlines and their names. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest male kin, and his own blood.I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”
You listened to Ser Vaemond’s appeal with an even disposition. While you already had a decision on the matter you had to at least present as impartial.
When he finished he bowed and returned to his place amongst the others.
You cleared your throat and sat forward in the throne.
“Ser Vaemond, I have listened to your petition with an open mind. You make a sensible claim to Lord Corlys’ seat that I would be inclined to agree with,” you began.
A satisfied smile crept across Ser Vaemond’s features.
“But you are not the next in line to inherit the Driftmark throne. I believe that honor goes to Lady Rhaena, Lord Corlys’ trueborn granddaughter, or am I mistaken Princess Rhaenys?”
Ser Vaemond’s smile fell.
Hushed whispers spread across the gathered members of court.
Ser Vaemond turned to look at Rhaenys and his nieces next to her with a scowl.
Rhaena looked to her grandmother, her expression terrified.
Your aunt stood proud then stepped towards the center of the room.
“My lord husband’s chosen heir, Ser Laenor, was killed before he had the opportunity to remarry and sire children. So it would fall to my trueborn daughter’s children, my granddaughters Baela and Rhaena. Baela is the eldest but as she is wed to your son and heir Prince Aegon the honor of ruling Driftmark should the worst come to pass with my husband’s health is Rhaena’s. ”
You nodded and your aunt returned to her place next to Rhaena.
“Thank you Princess.”
You looked at Ser Vaemond.
“I declare the title of Lord of Driftmark and subsequently Lord of the Tides shall go to Lady Rhaena Targaryen in the event Lord Corlys succumbs to his wounds and passes before he himself can name an heir.”
With the matter concluded you moved to stand. Otto called the session to an end and as the firsts of the crowd started to disperse Ser Vaemond marched forward, towards you.
Ser Harrold Westerling intervened and cautioned Ser Vaemond to keep his distance.
“Your father broke law and centuries of tradition to not only install you as heir but to force your unnatural union upon the realm. You are not fit to tell me who deserves to inherit my brother’s seat,” he spat venomously, fury seething from every part of him.
You leveled a stern look at Ser Vaemond.
“Do not forget yourself Ser,” you cautioned.
He did not stop. He pushed against Ser Harrold as he continued his diatribe.
“House Targaryen might be content being run by a bastard who has sired an abomination, but you will not decide the future of House Velaryon. We survived the doom and a thousand tribulations besides. Gods be damned, I will not see it fall to a girl who does not even carry the last name Velaryon.”
A loud silence fell upon the room. Ser Vaemond stopped pushing against Ser Harrold and took a few steps back.
You stared at him, weighing the consequence of simply killing him where he stood. Then you looked at Alicent, your own anxiety and anger mirrored in her appearance.
If you allowed Ser Vaemond’s words to go unpunished the lords of the realm would never take you seriously, they barely did as it was.
But if you acted rashly your temper would be used as a reason against the ability of women to rule.
So you played the only hand you could think of that avoided those undesirable outcomes.
“Very well, since you believe you are suited to rule and won’t accept the decision of a bastard as you so kindly referred to your King, we will hold a trial by combat to decide not only the fate of Driftmark’s heir but that of who will sit the Iron Throne,” you declared, your voice calm and confident.
Gasps tore through the crowd.
Alicent stepped forward. “Your Grace, you cannot be serious?”
You turned to her.
“Ser Vaemond believes he is better suited to rule Driftmark. Why should such a magnanimous ruler be kept from the rest of the realm? Perhaps the second son of House Velaryon would make a better King of the Seven Kingdoms.”
“(y/n),” Alicent whispered in disbelief.
You turned your attention back to Ser Vaemond, who stood with his mouth agape.
“Will you accept my challenge Ser Vaemond?” You pressed.
Ser Vaemond schooled his features and nodded firmly.
“If you so insist, your Grace.”
You smiled. “Perfect, we shall meet at the dragonpit upon the morrow.”
Ser Vaemond turned on his heels to exit the hall but you called out to him.
“Good Ser,” you called out.
He turned to face you.
“I should clarify this will be to the death. Neither of us will be allowed to yield.”
The color drained from Ser Vaemond’s face then he turned back around and walked out of the Throne room.
You sat back down on the Throne after the nobles of court had cleared the room then let out a heavy sigh. All who remained were your family, with the addition of your aunt and Rhaena.
Alicent rushed to you. “Have you gone mad or are you punishing me for an unknown offense I’ve committed?,” she demanded. “What in the seven hells possessed you to challenge Ser Vaemond not only to combat but to the death?”
The present members of your family exchanged uneasy glances as Alicent continued to berate you.
Rhaena leaned towards Baela and whispered. “Does the Queen always speak to the King this way?”
Aegon overheard and let out a small laugh.
Baela smiled. “The King gives great latitude to his wife.”
Otto attempted to intervene.
“Alicent perhaps-,” he began but was cut off.
Alicent whirled towards her father.
“Stay out of this, or am I to assume you were the one to put such a ridiculous notion in the King’s head?”
“No I-,” Otto stammered.
You had never seen Otto Hightower rendered mute.
So you stood and placed your hands on Alicent’s arms.
She returned her gaze to you, fear mixed with righteous anger was written plainly across her face.
“Ser Otto did not counsel me on this matter. A trial by combat was the only way to punish Ser Vaemond for his traitorous insults and not be deemed a hysterical woman that proves women should not rule,” you explained.
Alicent’s anger disappeared as tears welled in her eyes, her fear overtaking her.
“I cannot lose you (y/n),” she replied, a quiver in her voice.
You moved your hands to cup her face.
“I do not plan to die tomorrow, and much less to the likes of Vaemond Velaryon.”
Alicent closed her eyes, the tears falling down her face.
You wiped them away with your thumb then placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Alicent wrapped her arms around your waist and buried her face in the crook of your neck.
You smiled and rubbed reassuring circles on her back.
Otto cleared his throat.
You looked at him, Alicent still in your arms, and gave him a nod to continue.
“Your Grace, I share the Queen’s worry for your life but you are right that a trial by combat was the wise course in the face of Ser Vaemond’s insults,” he reasoned.
Aemond stepped forward.
“Let me fight him in your stead, father.”
Alicent pulled away from you and looked at Aemond.
“Absolutely not.”
You smiled at your wife then returned your attention to Aemond.
“Your mother is right. I must battle Ser Vaemond myself, and hopefully put to rest the unending questioning of my rule with my victory.”
Aemond frowned but nodded in agreement.
Princess Rhaenys was the next to approach. She thanked you for your staunch support for Rhaena’s claim, and wished you a swift victory against Vaemond.
Then she, Baela, and Rhaena left the room.
Ser Otto informed you the small council would need to assemble and decide on a few matters before your duel took place.
So you, Aegon, and Aemond followed him out and towards the room where the small council gathered.
You expected Alicent to join you but she stopped just outside the room and told you she would see you for supper. You nodded in agreement then watched as she walked towards Larys Strong who lingered in the hall like a shadow.
What business could Alicent have with Larys?
You did not have much time to linger on the question as you were led to put your succession down in ink should the worst come pass during the duel.
The men of the small council watched as you named Aegon your heir, and who would succeed him should he also pass away.
“Naturally it would be Helaena,” you declared.
Aegon sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Do you truly believe Helaena would want to sit the throne, father?”
You paused to consider Aegon’s words. Then you nodded.
“You’re right, she would abhor having to rule.”
So you named Aemond as Aegon’s successor should Aegon pass before Baela delivered her child. After the birth of Baela’s child Aemond would continue to rule as regent until the child came of age.
As Aemond was yet unwed and without children of his own, your future son with Alicent was named as fourth in line for the Iron Throne.
Ser Otto, who was the one assigned to record your named successors, asked what the child’s name would be.
A question you had not given much thought to.
Alicent had brought up the possibility of naming him after your father but you did not want to confuse the realm further, as there already lived two Aegons and two Viserys.
The only other name you had discussed in brief passing was naming your son after your grandsire, Baelon Targaryen.
You shared the name with those gathered.
Aemond let out a snicker. “Prince Daemon will seethe with anger upon hearing the name of our soon to be brother.”
Aegon laughed alongside his brother.
You smiled but maintained your even disposition.
“The name was not proposed to move anyone to anger or jealousy. My grandsire was said to be a brave knight and formidable dragon rider. I pray my Baelon turns out the same.”
Ser Otto wrote Baelon's name below Aemond’s on the scroll.
Once your business was concluded you called the session to an end and retired to your room for supper.
Alicent was already there, sitting at the table with worry wrinkles marring her otherwise perfect face. Her hands were clasped in prayer.
“Do you really have so little faith in my abilities you mourn me already?” You asked her as you settled into the seat opposite her.
She met your gaze and lowered her hands into her lap.
“I fully believe you to be skilled with a blade but Ser Vaemond is a knight made,” she argued as supper was brought in by servants.
“I was not allowed to be a knight’s squire and therefore could never be knighted but I am one in all but name. I do not fear the likes of Ser Vaemond Velaryon.” You replied and waved her concerns away.
Alicent would not be moved. She remained despondent for the rest of supper, and brought up her concerns once again while in bed.
She turned to you and laced her fingers through yours.
“I can not live if you are not by my side. Please allow a member of the Kingsguard to fight as your champion,” she begged.
You sighed. “The matter is settled, Alicent. I will fight Ser Vaemond at dawn.”
Tears welled in Alicent’s eyes anew.
You softened at the sight of them and pressed a kiss upon Alicent’s lips.
“I have no desire to leave my beautiful wife whom I adore and go to an early grave,” you whispered as you pulled away from the kiss.
Then you let your forehead rest against hers.
“Trust that I will win. I need your faith above all others,” you confessed.
Alicent nodded softly. “If you do not win I will pray the Gods send you back so that I may slay you with my own hands,” she joked.
You smiled and brought her in for another kiss.
A night of fitful sleep followed.
-
The following morning, at dawn, you awaited Ser Vaemond in the Dragonpit.
Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, and Ser Otto sat in the makeshift stands. Helaena and Baela remained in the Keep. You ordered Alicent to stay behind as well, lest the intensity of combat bring about an early end to her term, but she flagrantly disobeyed you.
Some on the small council felt you gave the Queen unearned latitude to question you, but you did not listen. Alicent’s stubborn assertiveness was a trait you quite liked in her, even when she used said trait against you.
The boys cheered you on as you warmed up with simple swordplay exercises against Ser Criston.
Your armor was commissioned at the start of your reign, though many believed you would never need it. How thankful you were that you did not heed such advice.
Most armor was fitted for men’s bodies and their shortcomings. In contrast, your armor was perfectly fitted to your measurements and forged directly by the greatest blacksmiths of Qohor. The armor was as strong as true Valyrian steel but still light enough to not hinder movement.
Blackfyre, a hand and a half longsword, was heavy in your hands and that slowed you down a bit but you had trained with it long enough to overcome the difficulties of handling it as a woman.
Ser Vaemond entered the Dragonpitt and stepped into the makeshift arena. His armor and shield was emblazoned with House Valeryon’s sigil.
You forwent a shield as all felt heavy and cumbersome to you, especially when you attempted to use one alongside wielding Blackfyre.
Ser Criston brought you your custom helm, it was made of the same steel as your armor so it was light but sturdy and covered only your head and the sides of your face. A scarf of chainmail was attached to the bottom of it to cover your neck. He placed it on your head and adjusted the chainmail accordingly. After that he wished you luck.
You thanked him for not holding back when sparring, and for his devoted service to the Queen. You felt at ease knowing she had a true ally besides you in the Keep.
Ser Criston bowed then stepped back as you turned to face Ser Vaemond.
You met at the center of the arena.
Otto announced the rules of the trial, reiterated that it was to the death, then ordered the duel to start.
You raised Blackfyre defensively and mirrored Vaemond as he circled.
“It’s a shame your wife has to be present for your defeat,” he taunted then struck.
A flurry of steel clashing against each other followed.
You held your own as Vaemond advanced relentlessly.
Vaemond was taller and stronger than you, that much was obvious, so your plan was to tire him and use your smaller frame to your advantage by quickly evading his powerful blows.
The trial continued for several minutes, neither of you giving way to the other.
Alicent picked at her nail beds, a nervous habit she had long overcome, but returned at the sight of you in potential danger.
Aegon and Aemond continued to cheer you on, and hurled insults at Vaemond.
The smallfolk that gathered to view such a spectacle cheered both for and against you.
You had no doubt many bets had been placed on the fight. You hoped those who placed their faith and coin on you to win were handsomely rewarded.
But as the fight dragged on, your stamina lessened which gave Vaemond the opening he needed to get the upper hand.
You held on as best you could as Vaemond’s strikes pushed you back against the wall.
Alicent held her breath as she watched.
She wondered if Larys had been successful in his mission.
Alicent looked for Larys in the sea of faces. When her gaze landed on him, she found he was already staring at her. Alicent suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her spine. Larys made her deeply uncomfortable but she had need of him so she swallowed her disgust of him.
Larys gave Alicent a slight nod, signaling a completion of his mission.
Alicent’s shoulders relaxed after Larys’ confirmation.
All you had to do was hold on long enough.
Sure enough after you evaded one of Vaemond’s strikes and got free of the wall you noticed his movements start to slow.
You continued to bravely defend against his attack but when his strikes began to weaken you jumped on the moment.
You hastened your strikes, each one more powerful than the last. All your anger and frustration, all the insults you endured the entirety of your life, they all poured into each swing of your sword.
Then when you noticed Vaemond had left the back of his knee unguarded as he turned away from your strike you doubled your efforts and drove Blackfyre against his weak point.
Vaemond fell to his knees.
You continued your assault, giving him no moment to recover.
When he fell completely you pressed your foot against his chest plate.
“Any final words Ser Vaemond,” you asked breathlessly.
Blood spilled from the wounds on his body. He looked up at you and choked up more blood.
“I-,” he began but was cut off by your sword cutting his head clean off his body.
The Dragonpit roared with cheers and chants. “Long live the King, long live the King,” the smallfolk screamed.
You removed your helm and looked at your family. A bit of blood spilled from your lips but you simply spit it out then held Blackfrye high above your head.
Your sons raced down the stand and towards you. They congratulated you then went on to entice the crowd to louder cheers.
Alicent approached and wiped the blood from the corner of your mouth with her handkerchief.
“Never challenge anyone else to the death,” she warned after letting out a deep breath.
You smiled. “I promise I won’t, my fear of your wrath is too great,” you teased.
Alicent smiled then ordered a guard to remove Vaemond’s body.
You walked the perimeter of the arena and whipped up the crowd into further frenzy.
When the pain of your wounds made themselves known you followed Ser Criston to the wheelhouse where he removed the most cumbersome of your armor.
You climbed inside the wheelhouse and laid back in your seat.
Your family soon joined you and continued to congratulate you on your win.
You recalled the memory of your coronation as Aegon and Aemond began a dramatic reenactment of your battle with Vaemond.
Alicent sat beside you and wrapped her arms around your waist.
Exhaustion started to settle as the excitement of combat wore off. So you were grateful for Alicent’s embrace to steady you.
Once back at the Keep, Grand Maester Orwyle gave you a thorough examination after the rest of your armor had been removed.
Mostly minor scrapes and cuts. His assistants sewed the deeper ones and Orwyle informed you the rest of your injuries (a few bruised ribs) would heal with time.
You thanked him then ordered the servants to run you a bath.
After the maesters left, Alicent entered and held your head in her lap as you awaited your bath. Her belly had grown considerably since the discovery she was with child.
You lovingly caressed it with your hand.
“Your father won today, as she knew she would, little Baelon,” you whispered.
Alicent smiled. “You’ve named our not yet born son?”
You told her that was the name you gave Otto when listing off your line of succession. Alicent agreed Baelon was a prudent choice.
“Baby Baelon,” you cooed and pressed your ear to Alicent’s belly.
You swore you could hear your son’s heart beating. It was strong and steady.
Just as your bath was ready Ser Criston announced that Larys Strong requested an audience with the Queen.
Your brow furrowed.
“Whatever for?”
“Larys did not provide an explanation, your Grace,” Ser Criston replied.
Alicent told you it was probably just a new rumor he heard going around court. She left to speak with him.
Ser Criston followed after her.
You sank into the steaming water of the tub, the heat soothing your aching muscles. You sat in the water for a few minutes before you let your attendants start to bathe you.
Summary: Flash forward two years later. Just as you find your footing as ruler chaos returns to your feet.
A/N: At this point picture all the kids as their adult actor versions lol. Huge surprise at the end so please leave your thoughts as comments or in the tags!
The next two years of your reign were ones of relative peace.
Daemon did indeed remarry, and had twin sons- Viserys and Aegon- with Lord Borros’ daughter Cassandra, but he kept to Dragonstone and with the realm prospering rumor of rebellion died down.
You were not invited to the wedding, nor was anyone of house Velaryon with the exceptions being Baela and Rhaena. You granted Baela leave to attend and she rejoiced in getting to see her father once more.
Upon her return Baela confided in you that the father she once knew was gone. After the wedding ceremony he hardly spoke to her and her sister. He did not even say goodbye to Baela or Rhaena the following morning.
You held her as she sobbed, feeling the sting of betrayal for the first time in her young life.
To cheer her up you invited your aunt Rhaenys and Rhaena to the Keep. They accepted the invitation and arrived not too long after on dragon back.
Rhaena finally claimed a dragon the year prior.
They arrived to find Baela practicing with her long sword alongside Aegon and Aemond. Baela ran to her grandmother when she noticed her.
Aegon and Aemond politely greeted Princess Rhaenys and Rhaena then resumed their training.
Your aunt inquired about Baela’s time in the Keep and Baela excitedly recounted how she started training and was now learning how to use a bow. Rhaenys asked her granddaughter if she was happy. Baela told her grandmother she was, and informed her of your boundless generosity.
Then the twins went off to catch up with one another in Baela’s chambers while you met with your aunt in the Keep’s gardens.
Just before you set off to see Rhaenys, Helaena approached you and Alicent to ask to be sent to Oldtown. She explained she wanted to learn more about the Hightower and the fortress below it.
Alicent was unsure so she turned to you. You pressed Helaena for more answers, did she really want to travel just to learn more about an old tower?
Helaena confessed she wanted to explore the fortress library for answers she sought. She did not explain what matters of great importance she sought answers for, even when pressed further.
Alicent reasoned Helaena might meet a fine knight or minor lord of the Reach with her family in Oldtown and sent word to her uncle that same day. Helaena was now a woman of sixteen and not yet betrothed. You struggled to find her a suitable match. Every suitor presented displeased Helaena and while Alicent and Otto pressured you to force the match anyways you continued to delay marriage.
After exchanging pleasantries and polite questions regarding your cousin Laenor’s adventures at sea you brought the matter of betrothal to Rhaenys.
“I believe Baela will be a fine match for Aegon, and they have made great strides in their relationship in the past two years.”
Rhaenys seemed hesitant but she did say she noted Aegon seemed to have matured considerably from the boy she last saw. She told you she would confer with Baela then let you know her decision.
Tradition dictated you ask Daemon for Baela’s hand but he had distanced himself from his daughters and as Rhaenys was their most attentive guardian you thought it best to approach her on the subject.
That evening at supper Rhaenys informed you that Baela had agreed to the betrothal as she agreed it would be an advantageous match. She knew the freedoms she had come to enjoy at the Keep would not be granted to her elsewhere.
Their betrothal was formally announced the following day at court and ravens sent out to inform the other houses.
Viserys’ health waxed and waned through the years. He continued to live to everyone’s surprise. You were thankful the Gods saw fit to keep your father alive. You were not yet ready to deal with the chaos his death would bring.
The following year your uncle sired another son, Aemon, and a daughter, Alyssa. Baela was not moved to fly to Dragstone to meet her siblings, she had long accepted her father was no longer interested in her. Rhaena flew to them and visited her father quite often, not wanting to lose the only parent left to her.
Your connection with Alicent deepened with time, and by the third year of your reign you were both comfortable with open displays of affection. While the sight bothered those of the court and your small council at first they came to feel indifferent.
The sight of two women or men together was no longer uncommon. While not yet fully embraced by the realm a few lords and ladies from great and minor houses revealed their own unorthodox unions. Even those of the faith turned a blind eye to these unions. If the King was a woman married to another woman what did it matter if a second son or daughter married one another.
It was still unheard of heirs being allowed into marriages like yours as they still had to continue the family legacy.
Helaena returned from Oldtown for the tourney celebrating Aegon and Baela’s union. With her arrival came the news that she had found a suitable match for herself.
Ser Leo Tyrell, one of Lord Tyrell’s great grandsons.
Ser Leo joined the lists of the tourney and proved himself a skilled knight. He was also patient and seemed to take interest in Helaena’s flights of unusual fancy. Helaena did not simply tolerate his presence but actively sought him out.
Their betrothal was announced before the tourney’s end.
The day of Aegon and Baela’s wedding arrived and while your uncle had been invited he did not show.
Baela instead wore a cloak with house Velaryon’s sigil and was led down the aisle by her grandfather, Lord Corlys.
Alicent’s eyes watered as she watched Aegon cloak Baela and vow to love and protect her as he would the realm. You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and held her close.
The feast that followed was one of high spirits and merriment.
Prince Qoren Martell congratulated Aegon and presented his daughter, Princess Coryanne who was now Aemond’s betrothed.
Aemond’s face reddened when Princess Coryanne greeted him.
To your surprise, and relief, Aegon did not tease him about it.
The atmosphere of the hall darkened considerably towards midnight when Daemon entered, visibly drunk.
You had not seen him since that night in Driftmark.
The hall fell into silence, the only sound Daemon’s boots against the stone floor.
Your shoulders tensed as you stood from your seat.
“Uncle, how wonderful for you to join us.”
Demon did not look at you, instead focusing on his newly wedded daughter.
“I offer condolences my dear Baela, that I did not arrive sooner to stop this dreadful union,” he spat.
Baela looked down, chagrined.
“It seems as though you have had one too many cups this night, uncle,” you said and motioned for the kingsguard to remove him from the hall.
They moved towards him but he waved them away. “Do not come closer. I shall leave of my own accord,” he slurred then stumbled back the way he had come.
Baela’s face burned with embarrassment, and Rhaena’s eyes started to water.
You followed Daemon out of the hall, your kingsguard at your side.
Once outside, from the prying eyes and ears of the court, Daemon braced himself against a stone pillar. He doubled over and heaved a great amount of what you assumed to be wine and remnants of his supper.
Your face soured at the sight and smell.
Then he turned to you, wiping his mouth of vomit.
“How dare you wed that boy to my daughter without my approval?”
“You have not been Baela’s father for many years now. I sought consent from her present guardian, her grandmother,” you countered.
He scoffed. “I will not forget this,” he said, then pointed an accusing finger at you. “If I were you I would pray that my brother remains in good health.”
“Is that a threat uncle?”
Daemon’s hand tapped on the hilt of his sword. “It’s a promise, dearest niece.”
Then he marched off from whence he came.
Dread once again seeped deep inside you. The years of relative peace had given you hope that the worst was behind you.
But your uncle’s surprise appearance and thinly veiled threat to your rule eviscerated what little hope had blossomed.
Daemon’s brief visit to the Keep proved to be an unfortunate omen of what was to come.
War broke out in the Stepstones for the second time. This time when Lord Corlys approached the crown for support he was granted enough coin and men to win.
Or so you had hoped.
The war dragged on for three long years.
The crown’s loss of coin and men were so great your small council urged you to withdraw your support. But you could not leave Lord Corlys on his own.
To add to your sudden misfortune Prince Qoren delayed the nuptials of his daughter to Aemond. Each time you wrote to him regarding the preparations he replied that more time was needed to prepare Princess Coryanne for marriage.
Otto stated what was plain, the Martells did not wish to honor their betrothal to house Targaryen. Which made sense in light of word that Dorne was providing support to the Triarchy, effectively ending the treaties you had negotiated.
Helaena married Ser Leo Tyrell amidst the turmoil. The wedding was small, per Helaena's request, and a quiet affair but it was joyous nonetheless. After the wedding was consummated Ser Leo went off to aid in the war. So Helaena continued to live at the Keep. It was soon known she was with child and after a full term she bore a healthy babe. Helaena named her daughter Rhaenyra.
It brought you a mix of joy and renewed grief. You held Helaena's babe in your arms and marveled at the way she did resemble your late sister.
And as it would soon be known Rhaenyra would not be the only addition to the royal family.
For several weeks Alicent refused to share your bed, and evaded you throughout the day. She no longer attended small council sessions. You worried about her but every time you sought her out Ser Criston informed you the Queen felt unwell and was resting.
Larys Strong, ever the fly on every wall of the Keep, approached you after a small council session to inform you he had sensitive information regarding the Queen.
So you retired to your chambers and shared a cup of wine with your Master of Whispers.
“I’m afraid there is no easy way to say this, your Grace,” Larys breathed with an exaggerated sigh.
Though Larys proved an advantageous ally you still distrusted him greatly and did not wish to be in his presence more than necessary.
“You may speak freely,” you replied and sipped on your wine.
Larys cleared his throat. “Very well,” he began and set his goblet of wine on the table before him. “The Queen was recently paid a visit by a maester from Oldtown.”
Your brow furrowed. “Why would she have such a need when we have plenty maesters here?”
“That is what I wondered as well, your Grace, so I investigated further. It seems the Queen did not want to bring undue attention to the service she required.”
You were growing tired of Larys. “Which was? Out with it, plainly, Larys.”
“Very well, your Grace,” Larys acquiesced with a slight bow of his head. “The Queen is with child, and she sought out a maester who could brew her moontea discreetly."
“Alicent is with child?” You asked, not able to believe she would be unfaithful.
Larys nodded. “It seems so, your Grace.”
A storm of mixed feelings brewed inside your chest. You thanked Larys for bringing it to your attention then dismissed him.
Once he was gone you let his words sink in.
Alicent had bedded another, a man. She had betrayed you.
You could not believe it, or rather you did not want to believe it.
The affection and adoration between you had only grown since the night you finally consummated your marriage. She was nothing short of a doting wife. Alicent even embroidered handkerchiefs for you with hearts and doves upon your name.
How could she have deceived you so? And with whom had she lain?
Your disbelief begat despair which transformed into anger and indignation. You ordered Ser Harrold bring the Queen to your chambers at once.
As you waited you paced about your room. You downed cup after cup of wine, shutting your eyes tight to prevent the stinging tears that formed in your eye from falling.
Ser Harrold returned not long after you had sent him to fetch your wife. He returned empty handed.
He cast his gaze downward. “Her Grace is unwell and could not be roused from bed,” he informed you.
You scoffed and marched out of your chambers straight towards Alicent’s, now frighteningly irate.
Ser Criston moved to stop you from entering. “Your Grace, the Queen is not-”
“Your King commands you to step aside and if you value your life you will comply,” you roared and did not wait for a reply.
You pushed past Ser Criston and stormed into the room.
Alicent sat in front of the hearth and whipped her head towards you upon your entry.
“(y/n),” she gasped.
You walked up to her, tears streaming down the sides of your face as you could no longer hold them back.
“Are you with child?”
Alicent’s eyes widened and she stood from her seat. “Of course not, why would you ever think such a thing?”
Your heart broke anew upon hearing Alicent lie to you. Larys’ information always proved correct, you knew he was not wrong about this either.
“You make me the cuckold and now you lie to my face?”
Alicent’s face fell, her eyes cast down towards the floor.
Her silence was the final confirmation.
You stumbled backwards and fell onto a chaise. “How could you do this to me?”
The fire of your anger extinguished by the cold truth. You sat in the seat expressionless, casting your gaze towards the fire.
Alicent knelt at your feet and placed her hands upon your lap. “I have not been unfaithful (y/n), you must believe me,” she pleaded.
But how could you? There was only one way to conceive a child, and you did not have the necessary anatomy to put one into your wife’s belly.
“I am a fool for believing that you ever returned my affections,” you uttered, your voice devoid of any warmth.
Alicent pressed her forehead against your knees. “I do love you, (y/n), you know that I do,” she argued.
You looked down at your wife’s scarlet hair splayed across your lap.
Disgust overtook you.
You stood, causing Alicent to fall onto the floor, and crossed the room towards the window that overlooked the rest of the Keep. You opened the window and let the cold night air wash over you.
Alicent’s hushed cries turned into full on sobs.
You clenched your jaw and balled your fists. Everything in you wanted to go to her side and comfort her, even after she confirmed the truth of her betrayal. You loved her so deeply you could not bear to see her suffer.
“Did you drink the moontea?” You asked unsteadily.
“I wanted to, but the maester told me I was too far into my term for it to work,” Alicent explained.
You whirled around to face her. “Exactly how long ago was your betrayal? Have you truly been playing me for a fool the whole time?”
Alicent stood and closed the distance between you. She took your face in her hands.
You did not have the strength to move away.
“I swear to you on all that I hold dear that I have not been unfaithful to you. I love you more than I ever thought myself capable of,” she professed, her eyes reddened by the tears that continued to fall. Her lip quivered as she spoke.
It made your heart ache. Both because you so desperately wanted to believe her and because it was impossible for her words to be true.
You called out for Ser Harrold. He entered, with Ser Criston at his heels.
“Call on Ser Otto, rouse him from slumber and drag him by the collar if necessary,” you commanded.
Ser Harrold nodded then left in search of your hand.
Then you tore yourself from Alicent’s grasp and approached the hearth. You braced yourself upon the mantle.
Silence enveloped the room while you awaited Otto’s arrival.
He walked in, annoyed at being pulled from a bath, his robe tight around his body.
“What is so urgent your Kingsguard threatened to drag me here?” He sharply questioned.
“Your daughter is with child Otto,” you levied with obvious distaste. “And worse yet she is too far along to terminate with moontea.”
Otto turned to Alicent, disbelief contorted his face.
“How could you have been such a fool?” He barked at her.
Alicent’s sobs quieted. “I am innocent in this father.”
Otto ran a frustrated hand through his thinning hair.
“Then how came you to be with child? Did a man force himself upon you? Name him and we shall have his head fitted on a spike.”
Alicent hung her head. “No man has forced himself upon me, nor has a man touched me since I was wed to Viserys.”
“Enough with the lies Alicent,” you shouted as you turned to her.
She flinched as if struck.
Your resolve weakened at the sight.
Ser Criston entered. “Princess Helaena is here your Grace,” he announced.
“Send her away,” Otto ordered.
But it was too late.
Helaena strode into the center of the room.
“I believe I hold the answers you all seek.”
She turned to you.
“Mother is correct, she has not been unfaithful. Her state is my doing.”
You furrowed your brow. “What are you talking about Helaena?”
Helaena bade you sit on the couch with her. You did so hesitantly.
Then Helaena revealed that years ago she had dreamt of a boy with streaks of red in his hair of silver. The boy had brown eyes with a slight tinge of violet. She explained that in her dream the boy became King and ushered in an age of peace and prosperity that rivaled that of the late King Jaehaerys.
“So who is the boy’s father?” Otto interrupted.
Helaena leveled an annoyed glance at her grandsire then continued.
She knew the boy in her dream was not hers. He was a product of the King and Queen.
You remained puzzled, unable to follow Helaena’s tale.
Helaena told you that in the Red Keep’s library she learned of ancient blood magick that Visenya was rumored to have used to conceive her son. She learned that the blood magick was not sufficient for the creation without a man’s seed so she read further. Continued reading hinted at the strange mystery that surrounded the Blackstone Fortress and the whispered magick of the Hightower.
“That is why you wished to visit Oldtown?” Alicent asked, horrified.
Helaena nodded. “Yes, and while there I learned more about the Deep Ones. My search yielded the precise spell needed to combine with the ancient Valyrian blood magick. So upon my return to the Keep I set out to make the boy’s conception a reality.”
You looked to Otto who stood as bewildered as you felt.
“What did the spell consist of?” You asked, slowly coming to understand.
“I collected rags with both of your moon bloods for a full year, scales from a dragon egg, and locks of hair from my brothers and I. Then I burnt them all and recited the water magick spell in High Valyrian,” Helaena stated plainly.
You stood from your seat and began to pace about the room in utter disbelief and panic at the thought of magick being used.
Otto pursed his lips then nodded slowly. “I suppose such a thing is possible. As Helaena said, it was rumored Queen Visenya used magick to conceive her child.”
You stopped and turned to him.
“It is exactly that history that unsettles me. She gave birth to Maegor the cruel.”
“And you believe our son will be his second coming,” Alicent finished for you.
You did not meet her gaze. Embarrassed for having thought her unfaithful.
“Precisely.”
Helaena turned to you. “He won’t be, I have seen it, your Grace. He will be a magnanimous and beloved King of the realm.”
You sighed aloud then walked to to Helaena. "You should get some rest."
Helaena excused herself.
Otto stroked his beard, deep in thought.
“I am deeply regretful that I lobbied such heinous accusations at you,” you said and finally turned to look at Alicent.
She met your gaze, her eyes swollen from crying but without rancor.
“No one could have thought such a conception possible. I don’t hold it against you my love.”
You softened and crossed the room to be at her side. She stood by the window where you had left her. You knelt in front of her with a bowed head.
“I plead for your forgiveness Alicent, though I do not deserve it.”
Alicent titled your chin up so your gaze met hers.
“You do not need it because I do not begrudge you.”
You stood and embraced her. You buried your face in her hair.
“I am so sorry. I love you,” you whispered.
Alicent wrapped her arms around your waist and rested her chin on your shoulder.
“I love you too.”
Otto cleared his throat and you pulled away from Alicent to face him.
“Now that the question of the child’s parentage has been answered we must discuss how to handle the pregnancy.”
You nodded. “Half of the realm will think their King a cuckold, and the other half who will believe the babe a product of magick will fear his birth.”
Otto hummed in agreement.
“We lose either way,” Alicent mused.
Otto stood from his seat and promised to find a solution that would end favorably for them. Then he excused himself.
Once alone you turned back to your wife.
“Do you truly not despise me after I treated you so poorly?”
Alicent cupped your face with her hand. You closed your eyes and leaned into the contact.
“Of course not.”
Then she caressed your cheek with her thumb.
“Do you despise me?”
You opened your eyes and furrowed your brow.
“Why would I have cause to despise you?”
Alicent’s hand fell from your face and she walked to the chaise near the hearth.
“The realm will lose faith in you and I will be the cause of it.”
You followed and sat next to her.
“I won’t deny the path ahead will be difficult but it has always been. All that matters is we walk it together,” you said and held her hands in yours.
You brought her hands up to your lips and pressed gentle kisses on each of her knuckles.
Alicent smiled sadly.
“I’m terrified (y/n). I do not wish to birth an even worse King than Maegor,” she admitted.
You met her gaze. “You heard Helaena, our son won’t be cruel.”
Alicent’s shoulders sagged. “Your faith in Helaena’s visions is heartwarming but I don’t share it.”
“We will raise him to be good, kind, and benevolent. Our current set of sons aren’t too awful are they?” You asked with a playful smirk.
Alicent let out a small laugh.
“They are imperfect but both boys have matured into decent men,” Alicent recounted.
Your heart brightened that you were able to ease Alicent’s fears. You let go of her hands and wrapped yours around her waist, settling your chin on her shoulder as you looked up at her.
“Just think how beautiful our son will be with your eyes and auburn streaks.”
Alicent looked over at you, her gaze tender.
“I hope he looks exactly like you,” she whispered.
Your smile wavered as you gave your son more consideration.
“What really troubles me is that Helaena saw our son as King, and the only way for that to be true would mean our older boys die, or I replace Aegon as heir. I do not wish to think of either possibility.”
Alicent reassured you that while Helaena was a gifted girl she could not predict the future. Besides, Aegon would be busy with his own child to worry about your son.
You furrowed your brow.
“Baela is also with child,” Alicent clarified.
You sat up.
“Gods be good, a newborn and two more babes on the way. Let’s pray the realm will survive,” you teased.
Alicent laughed. “Baela is not as far along as I am but yes, we will have three more children running amok in the Keep’s halls.”
Then Alicent placed a hand on her stomach. She looked down and smiled with affection.
You placed a kiss upon her stomach and whispered to the babe that grew inside that you were excited to meet him.
Summary: You went from loathing every second in Trinity's company to desperately needing more of it.
A/N: The long awaited part two! I hope you all enjoy it and let me know your thoughts/reactions either as comments or in the tags. I don't think there's a reason for a part three but don't worry there are more trinity imagines to come.
It was a week since you’d kissed Trinity Santos. Seven days, a hundred sixty eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes, six hundred and four thousand eight hundred seconds, to be exact.
And Trinity was all you could think of. All you wanted to think of.
You went to bed feeling the ghost of her lips against yours, and you woke up with the nagging need of her between your thighs.
Work was unbearable.
One because Trinity refused to be anywhere near you, alone. She would leave the second another doctor or nurse left the two of you alone.
Second, because your work was suffering. So much so that Dr. Al-Hashimi pulled you aside to talk about it- on more than one occasion.
You were behind on your charting, missing obvious diagnoses in patients, and even disappearing for several minutes at a time to hide in the bathroom stalls to calm yourself down.
You cursed ever letting Trinity kiss you.
She ruined you.
And now she didn’t even have the decency to reject you to your face.
That day, after shift ended you approached her in the parking lot. You asked to talk to her but she brushed you off and said she was tired.
You watched as she got into her car and sped off without so much as sparing you a second glance.
The next day at work she started avoiding you and you instantly worried she regretted kissing you.
But as the week went on you realized it wasn’t regret that plagued Trinity.
You caught her staring at you several times over the course of the week. Her gaze was soft and contemplative.
And when Dr. Al-Hashimi sternly corrected you while attending a trauma case alongside Trinity she defended you. She took the fall for a rookie mistake you had made.
Which made her avoidance of you all the more confusing.
If she didn’t regret it, why didn’t she want to be anywhere near you?
The confusion and mystery bothered you more than the possibility she just wasn’t into you.
You wanted- no, you needed the truth. If you had any hope of getting your career back on track you needed to confront Trinity and resolve whatever was going on.
That was easier said than done as she was very good about steering clear of you.
-
The morning progressed as it usually did, including Trinity ducking out of cases you were assigned to.
After your latest fuck up Dr. Al-Hashimi assigned you to easier cases. It was embarrassing but you couldn’t argue against it. You also didn’t want patients to suffer because of you so you took the unspoken punishment on the chin.
Your latest patient was an elderly man by the name of Mr. Montrose. He was a sweet, if a little overbearing, man who had taken a nasty fall and hurt his lower back.
And somehow, you’d lost him. You searched the halls of the Pitt for your patient. A man his age couldn’t have gotten far.
Then you spotted him sweet talking another elderly patient. The woman was laughing and blushing.
Maybe you needed to ask Mr. Montrose for some pointers.
You approached and informed Mr. Montrose he couldn’t just wander off and talk to other patients.
He insisted he had to walk around and talk to others. He was a greeter at Walmart, it was his job to converse.
So you compromised and asked him to stay within the general vicinity of his ER bed.
He let out a small sigh as you finished guiding him back to his bed.
“My dear, I cannot sit. My backside is killing me from where I fell on it,” he explained, “which is an embarrassing admission to make to such a lovely woman.”
You smiled politely.
Mr. Montrose had paid you flattering compliments the whole time you examined him upon his admission.
You didn’t want to be rude, and he meant no harm but he was very much not your type.
“Thank you for the compliment Mr. Montrose but there’s no need to be embarrassed. You took a serious fall,” you reassured him.
His gaze softened. “Well, then may I say that one look in your beautiful eyes and I think I’m falling all over again,” he said and leaned back for comedic effect.
You let out a small laugh. “Ever the charmer,” you teased. “I’ll get you a foam donut to help you sit,” you explained as you went to the mobile work station in the center of the room.
Mr. Montrose smiled and started to hum to himself.
You turned your attention to the workstation.
Trinity was typing away on the workstation opposite yours. You were surprised she hadn’t darted away the second you approached.
But you knew charting was Trinity’s weakness, and she’d take any minute to catch up on it.
You tapped your badge and unlocked the computer. You went in to check on the status of your patient’s x-ray order and to document you were getting him a foam donut.
“Pretty great laugh you got there, Doc,” a deep voice called out to your right.
You looked over to see it was the rugby injury patient you’d tended to earlier. You were waiting on his x-rays too.
What was it with all the male patients flirting with you today?
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Trinity’s typing slow, and her gaze drift over to the rugby patient.
The patient was handsome, but again- totally not your type.
You smiled politely. “That’s kind of you to say. My grandmother joked it was more of a witch’s cackle.”
Before the patient could reply one of the nurses came up to you with CT results for another patient.
Trinity resumed her charting as you walked past her to check in with your other patients.
-
Ten minutes later you had a minute to return to Mr. Montrose but when you arrived at his bed he was once again not there.
So you went to hunt him down, again.
You found him closer to this time. At least he was honoring your request to stay nearby.
You put a hand on his back and started back towards his bed.
“My backside is killing me. I need to keep moving or I get all achy and stiff,” he explained.
You smiled. “Exactly why I brought you this foam donut to sit on while we wait on your x-rays,” you said and held up the piece of foam with your free hand.
He pursed his lips. “Hmm.”
When you reached his bed he looked down at the patient passport in his hand.
“Dr. Pretty eyes, it says here that it’s only supposed to take an hour or two for an x-ray,” he said and turned to you.
You let out a deep breath. “That is the goal, but the reality is that it could easily take double that.”
“There’s no need for reality,” he said, then dropped the patient passport onto a nearby chair. “We romantic prefer la reve, the dream.”
He was once again trying to charm you.
Your patience and understanding was starting to wear thin, but you continued to humor him.
“We do, do we?”
He smiled. “Oui.”
Then he reached out for your hand and started to sing. You didn’t recognize the language but assumed it was something french.
Mr. Montrose led you to the center of the hall and gave you two gentle spins as he sang.
Your smile strained a bit but you played along.
“Hey, save a dance for me,” the rugby player from the other side of the room called out.
Your face warmed at all the sudden attention.
To make matters worse Dr. Al-Hashimi appeared behind you as you finished your second twirl.
She cleared her throat and Mr. Montrose’s hand fell from yours.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi,” you exclaimed and swallowed hard.
“I see why your patient satisfaction scores are so high Dr. (y/l/n),” she joked but you could tell it was for the patient’s benefit. The smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Mr. Montrose paid you another compliment then returned to his bed, foam donut in hand.
Dr. Al-Hashimi explained there was an incoming trauma and offered to have you join her.
You saw it for what it was, your final chance to prove you weren’t a fuck up.
You nodded but then stopped. “Oh uh- I have a few patients waiting on x-rays and Kevin, one of the techs, just told me they’d be uploaded soon.”
Dr. Al-Hashimi surveyed the hall. “Ah, Dr. Santos,” she said and waved down Trinity who was walking past.
Trinity stopped short of you and Dr. Al-Hashimi, brows raised.
“Why don’t you cover Dr. (y/l/n)’s patients for a while. I need her for an incoming trauma,” she ordered.
Trinity opened her mouth to no doubt reject the idea but Dr. Al-Hashimi didn’t let her get a word in.
“It sounds like Dr. (y/l/n) was about to wrap up with them so it’ll give you some time to catch up on charting.”
Charting. Trinity’s weakness.
So she nodded wordlessly.
“Perfect,” Dr. Al-Hashimi said then whirled around and started for the other side of the hall.
You glanced over at Trinity and met her gaze, for the first time since that day in the parking lot.
You softened your gaze. “Thanks,” you said with a small smile.
Trinity shrugged. “Whatever,” she replied, then turned away from you.
You sighed and followed after Dr. Al-Hashimi.
-
Trinity POV
Of course Trinity had to take on your patients while Dr. Al-Hashimi whisked you off on a trauma case.
Trinity sighed as she approached the workstation. She used every spare second to catch up on charting.
But even when she typed away on a patient’s chart her mind wandered.
It always led her back to you.
Trinity knew she was being cowardly. She knew you probably thought the worst of her. She’d been ignoring you and avoiding you as best she could for almost a full week.
She wasn’t proud of it.
The truth was Trinity was scared. What she felt when her lips touched yours…it was beyond the angry sexy tension she thought she was relieving by kissing you.
It was deep and overwhelming, it was real.
And that scared Trinity shitless.
She didn’t do real. She didn’t do deep.
So until she got over whatever was going on with her she would avoid you like the plague.
As best she could considering the two of you worked alongside one another.
Trinity was acutely aware that a patient was staring at her.
It was the guy who flirted with you just a few minutes earlier.
Trinity heard it all.
Though she pretended not to notice she did, and it deeply bothered her.
You didn’t like guys, that much was obvious to anyone with eyes.
But it seemed male patients often lacked the eyesight to notice.
Trinity never cared before, but things were different now.
So the patient’s gaze on her irritated her, and when she could no longer swallow that irritation she locked the computer and turned to him.
“Do you need something?” She snapped.
His forehead wrinkled in surprise. “Oh uh…kinda?” He replied sheepishly.
Trinity wanted to roll her eyes but she knew better. She had to be professional.
Instead she licked her lips and approached the patient.
“What can I do for you Mr…” Trinity trailed off.
He smiled up at her. “Just Brian is fine,” he said.
Trinity gave him a slight nod. “What can I do for you Brian?”
Brian sat up a bit, as best he could given the pain in his ankle. “I actually wanted to ask you a few questions. If that’s alright?”
Trinity’s brow furrowed. “About what?”
Brian averted his gaze. “About who, more like.”
Trinity’s stomach sank. She saw where this was headed.
“Dr. (y/l/n), is she seeing anyone?” He asked and met Trinity’s gaze anew.
A knot rose in Trinity’s throat. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
She wanted to tell Brian to fuck off and leave you alone but she couldn’t exactly do that could she.
But she also didn’t want to humor the guy.
Brian continued. “What’s her type?” Then he leaned forward. “Does she like Black guys?” He whispered.
“Ohhhkkayy,” Trinity sang awkwardly and buried her hands in the pockets of her scrub pants. Her face warmed so she thought it best to get out of there as fast as she could.
“Dr. (y/l/n) isn’t attracted to men, like at all,” Trinity stressed. “And she’s spoken for I’m afraid.”
Brian’s forehead wrinkled in surprise, again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize she was your girlfriend,” he said remorsefully.
Now it was Trinity whose forehead wrinkled. “Come again?”
“I meant no harm, doc,” he said and raised his hands apologetically. “I’ll back off.”
Trinity’s brian short circuited at the idea that the patient thought you were her girlfriend. So she just smiled awkwardly and walked away.
-
Epinephrine coursing through your veins, you returned to your work practically bouncing on your heels.
You not only saved the patient’s life but a last ditch effort you advocated for was what saved her.
Perhaps you weren’t hopeless, perhaps you could recover from whatever lovestruck malaise consumed you.
You unlocked the workstation closest to you to check on the status of the x-rays your patients were waiting for to be discharged.
Both were ready so you walked to Mr. Montrose first. After he was discharged you went to the rugby player who flirted with you, Brian Hancock.
You rubbed hand sanitizer on your hands as you approached him. “How are we doing over here?”
“Good, how much longer will it be?” He asked, curt and avoiding your gaze.
Your brows knit together.
A very sudden shift from his flirty charisma of earlier.
You shrugged it off, you weren’t exactly fond of his flirting anyways. So you went to the computer nearby and pulled up his chart.
“Your x-rays are back. No fracture so just ACE wrap, ice, rest, and elevate,” you told him and showed him the x-ray on the computer screen.
Brian looked up at the screen. He nodded slowly. “So I’m good to go?”
“Yeah, I’ll get your discharge paperwork started.” Then you looked down at his ankle. “Maybe some crutches just in case?”
You met his gaze.
He relaxed and smiled. “Listen I uh-,” he cleared his throat then looked back up at you. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, and didn’t mean to flirt with you in front of your girlfriend,” he admitted sheepishly.
You furrowed your brow. “Girlfriend?”
“Dr. Santos, I think was her name?” He said with a wrinkled forehead.
Trinity?
Your face warmed at the very thought.
Brian continued. “She made it pretty clear you weren’t available, or even interested in men.”
“She was jealous?” You asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m surprised she didn’t bite my head off.”
You softened. “Dr. Santos can be a bit prickly when it comes to me,” you apologized.
Brian smiled. “That just means she really cares about you.”
Then you finished discharging him and walked over to the central desk.
His words lingered in your mind.
It means she really cares about you.
Could it be true?
Princess sat up and leaned towards you. “Is that cute rugby player gone?”
You nodded. “Yeah I just discharged him.”
“I overheard him flirting with you. Did you get his number?” Princess teased.
“Uhh,” you murmured.
Perlah swatted Princess’ arm as she walked by. “ (y/n) doesn’t swing that way, did you forget?”
Princess blushed. “I did, sorry,” she said with an apologetic face.
And that was when you noticed Trinity out of the corner of your eye.
Once again, charting and pretending she was not eavesdropping on your conversation.
So you decided to push her.
If she was going to ignore you then get all defensive of you behind your back you were going to force her to acknowledge you.
“Actually,” you began, the tone of your voice getting higher at the end of the word.
Princess and Perlah’s brows rose. They leaned in closer.
“Princess is right. He was very cute, and I’ve never actually tested my sexuality.”
The nosy nurses looked at one another, said something in Tagalog, then turned back to you.
“So you got his number?” Perlah asked.
You put your forearms on the desk. “Even better, he invited me out to the art galleries in Lawrenceville tonight.”
Trinity’s typing stopped. She fully turned her head towards you. Her jaw clenched tight.
Thankfully neither nurse noticed.
Princess gave you a knowing smirk. “Are you going to go?”
A teasing smile spread across your lips.
“I don’t know. Maybe I will?”
You shrugged.
Perlah and Princess encouraged you to go for it. No harm in a date.
You agreed then excused yourself to go see another patient.
You had barely rounded the corner towards triage when Trinity grabbed your hand and led you down the hall towards the on call room.
She shoved you inside then closed the door behind her.
You suppressed a satisfied smile.
“Are you seriously going on a date with a patient?” Trinity asked, her jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.
“Why do you care?” You asked nonchalantly.
Trinity crossed her arms against her chest.
“I don’t. It’s just incredibly unprofessional and unethical,” she chided.
You scoffed. “Oh and you’re the poster child for professionalism now?”
Trinity shifted uncomfortably and avoided your gaze.
“It doesn’t matter if I am or not. You’re literally not even into men,” Trinity argued.
You took a step towards her.
“Again I have to ask, why do you even care?”
Trinity swallowed hard, her eyes fluttered to your lips then back up to meet your gaze.
“You know why,” she breathed, her jaw clenched tight.
You shrugged. “I don’t,” you feigned.
Trinity rolled her eyes. “Come on (y/n).”
“You’ve been ignoring me all week Trinity. If you regretted kissing me you could’ve done the adult thing and just be up front about it,” you replied, a little more bitter than you originally intended.
Trinity’s arms fell to her sides and she let out a sigh. “That’s not- look I..,” she stammered.
Then she walked to the other side of the room, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose.
You softened at the sight.
She really was upset.
But it didn’t seem to be with you.
So you gave in, just a little bit.
“Brian didn’t ask me out,” you confessed.
Trinity’s hand dropped from her face. She whirled around to face you, and met your gaze, one eyebrow raised.
“But you said-?”
“I just wanted to see if you’d care,” you interjected before she could finish.
Now it was you who averted your gaze.
You suddenly felt very emotionally bare.
Trinity huffed. “You bitch,” she mused with a slight shake of her head.
You looked up at her to counter her insult but she framed your face with her hands and pressed her lips against yours.
It was embarrassing the way you melted into Trinity’s kiss.
But you would save that embarrassment for later.
You would revel in her touch and taste in the moment.
Trinity’s hands traveled down and settled on your hips. She guided you backwards until you were up against the door.
Things suddenly felt very familiar.
You snaked your arms around her shoulders and buried your fingers in her hair.
In one fluid movement Trinity locked the door.
Then she pulled away, just enough, and turned your face to one side. She kissed down your neck and started to suck on your pressure point.
You bit down on your lip and threw your head back in ecstasy.
Heat bloomed between your legs.
You knew you’d need more soon.
And you weren’t sure Trinity would give it to you.
So you pulled your fingers out of her hair and pushed her back a bit.
Trinity’s brow furrowed. “What was that for?”
“I want you,” you said breathlessly. “Do you want me?”
Trinity gave you a wordless nod.
“Okay,” you said and pulled her back towards you by the waistband of her scrub pants.
Trinity’s lips were back on yours.
Your hands cupped her face and you brought her closer to you.
Trinity parted your legs with her thigh.
You eagerly spread them enough to give her access.
Her hand slipped under the waistband of your pants. Her touch was cold, and it sent an excited shiver down your spine.
You smiled into the kiss.
Trinity’s cockiness used to irritate you to no end, especially because she had the talent to back it up.
So it was no surprise to you that she made quick work of making you come.
You were also already soaked through by the time she stopped teasing you and slipped inside you.
She held you upright as you rode out your orgasm, your hips bucking against her fingers.
You buried your face in the crook of her neck.
When the last spasm of your climax finished you pulled your head away from Trinity.
Trinity pulled her fingers out of you and brought up to her lips.
You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched her greedily take both digits inside her mouth and sucked them clean.
Afterwards she cupped your cheek with her hand and gently caressed your face with her thumb.
You swallowed hard.
“I think I might really like you Trinity,” you whispered, realizing the truth of your words as you spoke them.
Trinity’s eyes widened.
But she didn’t pull away.
Instead she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against yours.
“You’re stupid to admit that (y/n).”
You shrugged.
“I don’t care. I can’t stop thinking about you Trinity,” you professed.
It felt like word vomit, you couldn’t stop bearing your heart to her. Even though you knew she would just take your heart and stomp on it.
“You’ve won.”
At that admission Trinity opened her eyes and pulled away from you completely.
She stepped backwards and shook her head softly. “You’re wrong.”
You missed the heat of Trinity’s body against yours.
So you pushed off the door and closed the distance between the two of you.
Trinity tried to turn away but you stopped her.
You hooked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at you.
“You’ve bewitched me.”
Trinity’s gaze softened. “Oh so you’re the Mr. Darcy in this?”
A tender smile spread across your face.
Trinity sighed then brought your hand down from her face. She laced her fingers through yours.
“I didn’t win (y/n),” she began and took a fortifying breath. “Because my mind, body, and soul were yours weeks ago.”
Blush crept across Trinity’s cheeks.
Your breath caught in your throat.
Trinity met your gaze. “Kissing you last week only confirmed it,” she added.
You frowned. “Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“Beacuse it scared the crap out of me,” she confessed with a sigh.
With your free hand you tucked a stray lock of black hair behind Trinity’s ear.
“The ferocious, badass Trinity Santos was scared by some itty bitty feelings?” You teased, hoping to ease some of Trinity’s obvious anxiety.
“What I feel for you isn’t small (y/n).”
The intensity of Trinity’s stare only underscored the weight of her words.
“Oh,” was all you could say.
The reality that Trinity actually really liked you fried your brain for a second.
But that second of hesitation was enough for Trinity’s walls to go back up.
She pulled away from you completely and walked towards the door.
“Forget it all. It’s stupid,” she grumbled.
You blocked the exit and put a calming hand on her chest.
Trinity didn’t meet your gaze.
“It’s not stupid,” you reassured her.
Then you placed a kiss on her jaw, then another on her neck.
“Let me show you how strongly I feel about you,” you whispered then slowly lowered yourself onto your knees.
Trinity’s gaze met yours as you went down.
She swallowed hard as she watched.
Once you were on your knees you undid the knot of her scrub pants.
You looked up at her. “Do you want me?”
Trinity nodded wordlessly.
“Say it,” you ordered.
She smiled. “I want you (y/l/n).”
“Good girl,” you praised then brought her pants down.
Maybe Trinity would ignore you after you made her orgasm in the on-call room. Maybe she would surprise you and take you out on a date.
Or maybe she’d tell you to keep things casual and all you two would ever be was friends with benefits.
But you weren’t exactly friends.
You were rivals.
At least you used to be.
Maybe now you were something else all together.
They were all questions for another time.
All you wanted was to taste Trinity Santos and hear her moan your name.
