#cole!reader

[wreckitwrites]

Part 2 to Cole!Reader (this one’s a bit more Yan!Team Green centric)

Tensions between the Greens and the Blacks escalate after the births of Jace and Luke.

Alicent was willing to overlook the circumstances of your birth. She knows what happened before Nyra’s marriage to Laenor after Criston’s confession. She cradles your little body to her chest, your soft, chubby face tucked into the crook of her neck as she waits for the maids to leave before she can pass you to Criston who she can see waiting ardently from the corner of her vision, his hands grasping uselessly at his sides as he bites back the urge to snatch you into his arms and never let go, regardless of who bares witness. (He would kill them all, turn all of Kings Landing to rubble and ruin if it meant keeping you safe under your father’s golden cloak.)

She can’t bring herself to blame you, sweet little you for your mother’s indignity.

But when two more dark haired, strong babes are born, she can no longer turn a blind eye to this impudence. One she can write off as simply a dalliance, an error of youth, but her continuous disregard of duty and honour has bile rising up in the back of Alicents throat.

At the very least her and Criston are able to watch you grow into a refined young Lady, despite your mother’s best attempts to keep you far away from the Queen and her Sheild.

They have the privilege to be there to hear your first words, see your wobbly first steps. When you first start clumsily babbling out your first attempts at High Valerian, Criston makes it a point to start teaching you Dornish. If you are to speak the language of your ancestors, he will ensure that his families legacy will not be taken from you. Nyra has already robbed you of your father’s name, she will not take your tongue as well.

Criston begins teaching Jace and Luke swordsmanship alongside Aegon and Aemond, not because he particularly cares for the Strong bastards or wants them to succeed (quite the opposite, every time one of them blocks one of Aegon’s blows or land a strike on Aemond, the Knight internally cringes) only so that he can see his little girl smiling on the sidelines, cheering for your brothers when you come by to watch them train. Admittedly, he does show off a bit whenever he see’s your lovely face just outside the training yard, adding an unnecessary flourish to his strikes as he hits his opponent far too hard for a casual spar. (His daughter should know that he can protect her from anyone and anything.)

There has been more than one occasion where he has instigated fights with Ser Harwin Strong when he see’s the little princess clapping a bit too hard and smiling a bit too wide at the nobles arrogant displays. (Your admiration should be reserved for him.) He believes knows that Rhaenyra is just using the heir of Harrenhall to replace him as her partner in infidelity, but he’ll be cold and dead in his grave before he allows the glorified whore to replace him as your father.

Aegon and Aemond also attempt to follow Cristons lead in showing off for you, with varying success. Aegon uses his age and size to his advantage against his brother and nephews, hoping to win your favour through dominating the smaller and weaker boys, only to be thrown into fiery rages every time you ignore him to attend to the bruised bodies and ego’s of your brothers and uncle, cooing sweet assurances into their ears as you tend to their wounds and sneak little kisses to make them feel better. Seeing you comfort those weaklings only further fuels his animosity towards them, he is the victor, you should be showering him with praise.

Aemond indulges in your compassion more than anyone, running to you first whenever he falls victim to Aegon, Jace and Lukes cruel antics, taking the opportunity to curl up into your embrace and breath in your air as you card your fingers through his silver hair and whisper assurances into his ear. You scold your brothers and uncle for their behavior, which only serves to worsen the situation as their resentment grows each time you come to his defence. But Aemond doesn’t mind. After all, the worse they treat him, the more distance he is able to create between you and his competitors, the more attention you give him. You tell him to ignore them, that one day he will have a dragon of his own to ride, and he needs to believe you, if only so that he can dream of flying away with you into the sunset as his lady wife. Until then, he will make do with your promises to take him with you into the skies when you are old enough to ride your own dragon.

Alicent enjoys having you sit with her as you and Helaena practice your needlework. Having the two princesses together gives her a good excuse to keep you nearby with Criston watching over you. Seeing the two of you together reminds her of when her and Nyra were young girls, before all of the betrayal and animosity, a bittersweet pain in her heart. (Sometimes when she looks at you she see’s not the unsanctioned union of the princess and her knight, but some sort of combination of her childhood friend and herself. As if the Gods were giving her a second chance in exchange for her loyalty and servitude to the kingdom and The Seven.) She will not allow the same wedge to be driven between her daughters her daughter and her best friend. Confident that won’t happen, so long as she can keep you close and prevent the same corruption that warped your mother to take you from her too.

When not with your mother, you spend the majority of your time with your dearest Helaena. She adores you for the fact that you are perhaps the only person in the Red Keep who does not find her strange and off putting. You listen to her ramblings on the different bugs she comes across and researches when she feels like talking, and sit in comfortable silence at her side when she does not, often spending hours with her in the library as she reads through various almanacs and entomology texts. Her most prized possession is a forest green gown that you had embroidered a colorful and detailed dragonfly onto then gifted her for her last name day. Even after she outgrows the dress, she has her maids cut out and restitch the piece onto a better fitting, more mature piece of clothing, one she recalls you having complimented when she first wore it.

Alicent despises seeing you in red or black, the colours too harsh for your gentle nature, instead preferring to see you in the lush and vibrant greens she gifts you, or the soft blues of her late mothers house, believing they suit you much better.

After the birth of Joffrey (no name for a so called Targaryen) she has the audacity to approach the King with the suggestion of marrying Helaena off to her bastard, Jace. Of course she would try creating a union that benefited only herself and her illegitimate son, securing his place as heir whilst denying Alicents true born eldest his rightful throne (the entire reason she was sold married off to the old King in the first place when she was scarcely a child herself.) Alicent quickly denies the idea, still resentful from when Rhaenyra had refused her offer of marrying you to Aegon.

(She will not admit, not even to herself, that deep down inside where only The Seven can see, she is grateful for the denial now that she see’s the monster her first child has grown to be. Your nature too sweet, too gentle to withstand the boys cruelty. Despite herself, Alicent has grown to adore you as much as she does her own daughter, so it hurts her heart to imagine your suffering, let alone being the one to put you in such a precarious position in the first place.)

Instead she puts forth the idea of you marrying her more even tempered son, Aemond. Not only would it secure his standing in the line for the throne, his potential to be a just and responsible king already far exceeding that of Aegon’s, but also your place as her child. She knows that Aemond would be a good husband to you, her third born having been instilled with the sense of duty she wished The Seven had granted her first.

Yet once again, Rhaenyra refuses her generous offer, assumably just to spite her.

Then the inconceivable happens. The night Aemond claims Vhagar and loses his eye.

After the death of Laena Velaryon, Aemond had taken the opportunity to claim the mighty war dragon for himself. He would prove to his brother and nephews (to you) that he was not the pitiful whelp they made him out to be, but a fearsome warrior and dragon rider. By claiming the greatest, oldest dragon still living, no one would be able to look down upon him as he sat high up on her saddle, no one would be able to take you from him.

By the time you arrived to the hall where the family and guards had collected, the commotion in the halls waking you from your slumber, Aemond sits in a chair, face bloodied as the maesters attend to his wound whilst your mother and Alicent argue. Your heart drops to your stomach when you take in the state of your young uncle, half his face near unrecognizable, his left eye mutilated and swollen shut.

You’re already halfway across the room when everyone notices you, Daemon reaching out to stop you from going any further before Ser Criston intercepts him. You fall to your knee’s at Aemond’s feet, tears in your eyes as you take his hand in yours. Alicent preens internally, pleased that, from her point of view, you know your place; at her side with her family. Of course you would come rushing to her sons defense (despite the fact that you’ve said nothing of the situation so far) and in her mind solidifying your loyalty to the greens by showing your worry for Aemond. She never doubted you for a moment, her sweet girl.

Aemond feels more confident in his decision than ever before when you place a gentle kiss to his cheek beneath the stiched up skin, the sting of it heavenly.

You still as the legitimacy of your brother’s birthright is called into question. Whilst your name is carefully kept out of the conversation, you are more than aware that it need not be said outloud. Your hand leaves Aemonds, his palm suddenly feeling cold, the ache in his face trivial compared to the pain of you pulling away as your siblings are called bastards.

Rhaenyra pulls you close as you return to her side, Criston and Alicent both seething at the sight of her tucking you behind herself, as if shielding you from them. Luke wraps his arms around your waist, hiding his face in the red fabric of your dress. Your little screams as Alicent grabs the kings knife and lunges so you curl yourself around him as your mother grapples with her.

Criston pulls out his sword, torn between protecting his queen and forgoing his oath completely to grab you and flee, but before he can do either Daemon gets in his way once again. Blood drips from your mothers hand and the blade is dropped to the floor, leaving the hall in uncomfortable silence.

Alicent feels sick when she see’s the horror in your gaze when you look at her.

By the time daylight breaks and Nyra’s arm is stitched, the Queen and her children’s things have already been packed aboard the ship taking them back to Kings Landing. Ser Criston is inconsolable, wildly throwing and breaking everything in his chambers that he is capable of damaging. He does not wish to leave you behind, but with the queen no longer in Viserys’s good graces, they have no leg to stand on to demand you be brought back with them.

This will not be the end. He will ensure you are returned to his side. There is no other option.

…

(I’ll make a follow up that is more focused on Team Black, but I have no idea when)