Freya, youâre ruled by emotion, so your [powers] come from the heart. With practice, youâre gonna be able to read peopleâs deepest desires, mix potions to make them fall in love⊠or fall into bed.
synopsis. when the tournament for your hand and heart was announced, you expected to see lords from different houses who tried to win the throne through you, knights who saw it as a matter of honor. but what you didn't expect to see was the first and only person who broke your heart into a thousand pieces.
pairing. aerion targaryen x cousin! reader
contains. mdni! miscommunication trope, from childhood friends to lovers to enemies then to lovers again, betrayal, angst, tension, obsessive!possessive! aerion, reader has a typical targ. features, tba.
â pt 2. pt3. pt4.
"so many princes and noble lords are waiting in line, my princess!" the maid exclaimed, her voice shook with excitement. "you are the most wanted bride in the whole kingdom. the castle did not see such a fuss since the time of the old king," she added, as she pulled the laces of the corset on your dress.
you rolled your eyes without a shadow of spite, only with a light tiredness. you looked at your reflection in the tall mirror and fixed the folds of the expensive fabric. "they do not want me, they want my closeness to the throne."
"you are too hard on yourself, my princess," nana softly argued. "everyone knows that prince valarr will become king one day, so it is not just about the crown. everyone truly loves you, from the small to the great. to be your husband is a true blessing from the gods."
and it was not flattery. you were the only daughter of prince baelor, the precious jewel of the castle. everyone spoiled you: from the king himself to the simple knights.
the only one in your branch of the family who inherited the classic targaryen look â hair that shined like silver and violet eyes â you combined this beauty with perfect manners and a gentle soul. it was simply impossible not to love you.
that was why, when you told your father that your heart was silent and there was no one you would marry by your own will, prince baelor decided to hold a great tourney. the winner got the greatest prize â your hand.
"and what if some old man wins?" you asked, as you pressed your lips together. you looked at her with fake disgust, but fun sparks danced in your eyes. "i do not think my patience is enough to wait for his natural death."
the maid laughed as she fixed the last pin.
"i am sure prince baelor has everything under control. your father is too wise and mature to let such a thing happen."
"father worries about me too much."
when she finished with the dress, nana carefully fixed your curls. she took a step back and looked at you with clear love. "i never saw anyone more beautiful than you, princess. you were charming as a child, but now⊠no one in these lands has a chance against your beauty."
a red blush touched your cheeks and you looked away shyly, not knowing where to go from such honest praise. this woman was with you since you were in swaddling clothes, she practically raised you and became a second mother and the most loyal friend.
"you are too generous with compliments," you said quietly.
you smoothed the dress once more, checking it, and said so low it was like you spoke to the heavens.
"i hope the gods send me a reliable husband. one who protects me and stays loyal. one who i can answer the same way."
you did not say love on purpose. there was only one man in your life who you loved with all your heart â and you were sure he would never be your husband.
the tourney field was noisy and bright: tents of noble houses stood everywhere, and flags waved in the wind above them. the air filled with the smells of roasted meat, dust, and grass heated by the sun.
you walked over the flattened grass and felt hundreds of looks on you. the dancers smiled kindly at you, and young lords and knights, when they saw you approach, gave dramatic bows and shouted compliments after you. you only shook your head with a forgiving smile and headed to the stands, where your brother already sat in the shade.
valarr watched the lords on the field closely, but as soon as you came near, his look warmed instantly. he looked over you with love and smiled gently. "it seems the number of participants will double or even triple today," valarr said, as he nodded at the crowd of knights. "spare the poor men, little sister, do not make them go to their death even more willingly."
you rolled your eyes dramatically as you sat down next to him. "it is not my fault that men are stupid enough to risk their lives for a woman they do not really know."
he raised an eyebrow merrily and, he could not stop himself, jokingly pinched your cheek. "a lady does not speak this way."
you caught his hand with a giggle and easily pushed it away.
he became silent and watched you for a moment, and then his tone became unusually serious. "special guests arrived today," he said quietly.
"who can be so special?" you asked, and your eyebrows rose in surprise.
valarr hesitated, as if he thought about whether he should tell the truth right now. he even opened his mouth to say something, but then he changed his mind. "you'll see soon."
however, soon your indifference changed into a dull anxiety. you could not look at it.
there was so much blood on the grass that a bitter lump rose in your throat. the whistle of blades cut the air, and the screams of the excited crowd mixed with the painful moans of the wounded.
men maimed each other for a ghost of a chance to one day touch the throne and get a sweet body in their bed.
of course, you saw tourneys before. but those were for glory, for fun, or to protect honor. and this? this looked like hell.
another knight fell to the grass, the blade of his rival went deep into his thigh. he moaned and screamed as he admitted defeat, but the winner had no time to enjoy his triumph â a sharp, loud sound of a bell cut the air. a cloud of dust rose over the field, and a cavalcade of riders appeared.
you froze when the flag of your own house flashed among the banners. your heart skipped a beat, and nausea rose in your throat.
the herald, whose voice spread over the quiet crowd, announced:
âwelcome! the second son of the king, brother of prince baelor â prince maekar targaryen and his sons!â
this could not be true.
they did not step into your castle for many years. why did they show up now, at the very beginning, when only low-born knights and lords from poor houses fought on the field?
you turned your head sharply to valarr. his jaw was tight, and his look was fixed on the guests. he already stood up with father, as he prepared to meet the kin.
and then you noticed him.
aerion sat on his horse just as confident and easy as before. a familiar arrogant smirk played on his face, and his look showed such disdain, as if no one around deserved even a bit of his attention.
your heart pounded so hard that it became painful to breathe.
you did not see him for several years, and in this time he changed. the youth's softness disappeared and gave place to predatory, sharp features of the face.
he became broader in the shoulders, larger and more powerful â the result of grueling training that he, as you remembered, never missed. something dangerous, masculine, and scary appeared in his look. only his hair stayed the same â silver and always messy.
a memory hit you in the gut like a sharp blade.
you stood between his open legs while he sat on the edge of the bed, still hot after another fight with his father. you softly brushed his tangled locks and tried to calm his anger with your touches.
"do not be so angry with him," you whispered. "he just worries about his son."
he always came to your chambers right away, no matter what happened â a fight with his father, a bad day, or to brag that he beat daeron in training once again.
"and what happens if i go to a real tourney like a real man?" he growled, as he put his fingers in his hair again and destroyed your work. "dragons fear nothing!"
you hit his hand lightly and grumbled. "hey, i just brushed them! do not dare to ruin it."
he just rolled his eyes and snorted that he "is not a bloody cat to be brushed," but he obediently moved his hand and let you brush them when they become too messy. only you.
the sharp roar of the crowd pulled you from your memory and brought you back to cruel reality.
you knew your duty: you had to stand up, go down after your father, and let your cousins press a respectful kiss on your palm.
the thought of his lips touching your skin made you feel sick.
aerion's look wandered feverishly over the stands. he searched for someone until his eyes met yours. he looked at you for a long time, even from far away, you saw how he studied your face, focused on every feature, then moved from your hair to your dress.
for a short moment, something flashed in his pupils that you could not solve even up close, but the mask of indifference returned instantly. his lips curved into a predatory, triumphant smirk, and dangerous sparks shined in his eyes.
he was so familiar and at the same time a total stranger.
you looked at each other, separated by space and unspoken tension, until you broke the contact first and raised your chin.
you turned your head, gave a short nod to your father and brother, and turned around. you headed deep into the castle with your head held high, and you felt how his gaze literally burned your back.
you would never shed another tear because of him again.
you just started to take off your heavy gold bracelets when a knight entered the rooms. he bowed his head and told you that your father waited for you. you gave a quiet sigh and nodded: you could not hide from the inevitable.
you understood well that he wanted to discuss your behavior â how you left the stands in such a way, without even greeting your own blood.
but, to be honest, you did not care. father never knew how to be truly angry with you. you were his treasure, his favorite, and the most you risked was a soft rebuke for being too rude.
however, you simply could not do it any other way.
not when he was on the field.
even a passing shadow of his name in your thoughts caused such sharp pain, as if a hundred hot needles stabbed your heart at once.
aerion targaryen.
your cousin and only childhood friend, the man who once patiently taught you how to grip a knife handle and shoot a bow.
your first, most honest and only love.
and he was also the one who broke your heart into pieces, trampled it, and then calmly walked over the sharp shards without even looking back.
he became the man who clearly showed you what a naive and lovelorn fool you were, as you blindly believed his promises.
you outgrew these feelings long ago. the pain still lived somewhere deep inside, as a reminder, but not a trace remained of that bright, pure devotion. love burned and left only the bitter dust of hate in the very moment when he betrayed you.
behind your back stayed endless sleepless nights, full of tears and a silent question: what did you do to deserve such treatment? how did it happen that you meant nothing to him? but those tears hardened you, made you stronger and colder.
if aerion hoped to see the same little girl with an open heart and endless love â he was deeply mistaken.
you held your head high as you looked at your reflection for the last time. the dress of deep dark-red color wrapped around your legs in heavy folds, and the jewels on the bodice shimmered with every breath. your hair â a complex, thick braid that the maid worked on since dawn â still stayed perfect, and only a couple of silver strands broke loose near your face.
you were the first granddaughter of the great king, a princess of house targaryen and the favorite of all the people, and you did not plan to let anyone think you were less than you were.
when you left the chambers, you gave the knight at the door a quick, soft smile and followed the familiar halls to your father.
you knew every turn of this castle, every tapestry on the wall, but when you turned into the gallery that led to the rooms of the prince, your step slowed down against your will.
there, leaning against a stone pillar, stood the one you did not expect to meet so soon.
aerion.
his posture carried that same unbearable confidence and greatness you remembered since childhood.
his look slowly slid over you, as he carefully studied every detail of your image, and then a light smirk appeared on his face. "hello, cousin."
you did not even look at him, continuing to walk, intending to pass by. you had neither the time nor the desire to take part in his games.
however, as you came level with him, he suddenly leaned forward, trying to catch your hand. his fingers almost touched your skin, but you reacted instantly, calmly and quickly pulling your hand away.
âdo not touch me.â
aerion stared at your face for a while, then, with his usual smirk, he pulled his hand away.
âyou would not even greet me? how rude.â
"i have no time for you," you cut him off as you tried to walk past.
âthat is exactly why you were rushing to your father?â he huffed, not falling behind a single step. "it is good to know that knights today are so easy to bribe."
this made you stop for a moment, and you turned around and looked at him with disdain. "it seems this is the only thing you are truly good at."
aerion slowly closed the distance between you. he loomed over you and leaned to your very ear, so you felt the heat of his breath. "you did not mind any of this, when we were children."
you slowly raised your look to him and smiled a bright smile with mockery. "what luck that we are not children anymore."
he became silent, just watching you. his look became heavy and greedy â it seemed he could not get enough of your emotions and your face, which he saw for the first time in so many years of separation.
"you did not change at all," he said quietly, as if he reached some inner conclusion.
"praise the gods that i cannot say the same about you."
you turned around and were already about to go back to your room when his voice, full of poison, made you flinch again.
"how is your little knight? is he still a crybaby, who is not able to do anything except hide behind his mother's cunt?"
you only rolled your eyes, as you remembered how he was always jealous of tristan when you were little. he said back then that tristan looked at you with more than friendly eyes and that he would kill him if he even tried to touch you.
it seemed this did not leave him even after three years.
"you do not even ask why i am here?"
you ignored him and walked further down the hall. you already imagined how you would take off this heavy dress and finally sink into your nightgown, as you washed away this whole day.
"i am in the tourney."
this made you freeze in place.
"you are lying," you breathed out, without turning around. your voice shook a little, but you quickly pulled yourself together. "father would never allow you to take a part."
you felt him come closer â so close that you felt the heat from him against your back. the air between you seemed to fill with electricity.
"he already did," he answered quietly right above your ear.
you turned around sharply. aerion stood too close, and now, face to face, you saw everything that the distance hid: small scratches on his forehead, a fresh wound on his cheek, and an old scar across his eyebrow. it was all so painfully familiar, as if these long years of separation did not pass at all. for a moment it seemed to you that the same boy stood before you, who once whispered promises to you and covered your face with kisses.
but you knew the truth. and this truth was much more bitter than your memories.
you narrowed your eyes and looked down at him, despite the difference in height.
"you think you are the best, do you not? you think every thing is a game that you must try?"
it seemed some memories hit him too, as he watched you and did not take his eyes off yours. his lips curved into a smirk as usual, but something shook deep in his pupils.
"i do not understand what you mean, cousin."
"you know well why this tourney was held," you hissed.
"i know. that is why i am here and i intend to succeed."
the absurdity of it all was so great that you could not stand it and gave a short, angry laugh. âand you do not even consider that you might die just because you grew bored?â
now this made him laugh â openly, merrily, with that same unbearable mockery that was always his armor.
âi will not die. i know that, because i will not allow any of those wretches to come even a step closer to you, let alone touch you.â
âi will never marry you.â
âyou will,â he said, slowly closing the distance as your back met the wall. âyou will, if i win this tournament.â
he leaned in even closer, until your noses almost touched, and a dangerous, victorious fire lit up in his eyes.
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