May 26, 2024
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Image Management (President!Baelor Targaryen x PR!reader) - Part 4
A/N: Can’t believe it took me this long to write this fic! It is way too long but I’m so happy that people have been reading and enjoying it! Thank you to everyone! Also, this is mostly just scenes of yours and Baelor’s relationship…
ALSO! I linked some tiktok edits in the fic because if you have not seen these, then you deserve to… (they obvi do not relate to how I described them as I faked the descriptions in the oneshot but lmao, enjoy)
Summary: In the aftermath of your confessions and newfound relationship, you and Baelor attempt to form a new routine and a new life in each other’s orbit. But these things are always easier said than done…
Word count: ~12.8k
Tags: 18+/MDNI, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, (significant) age gap, younger!reader (of legal age), kissing, mention of reader being shorter than Baelor, touch of angst (personal insecurity), a touch of spice (references to smut, beginnings of smut, nothing full on tho), never proofread, (please let me know if I missed any)
Disclaimer: I do not own any ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ characters. I do not claim to own any of the ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)
PART 3 << PART 4
You woke the next morning not to the sound of your own alarm, but to his. The sun had not come up yet, and the room was pleasantly dark except for the lamp he had left on in the evening. You were cozily cuddled into his side, head resting against his chest and arm sprawled over him.
You did not want to be awake, did not want to move from the space you had created for yourself, but the gentle press of a kiss to the top of your head made you snuffle a little. You shifted and pressed your face further into his chest, rubbed your lips to the skin there, and groaned a little.
He leaned away from you to stop the melodic tune, groaning a little, and then began shifting up as you whined and clutched onto him a little tighter.
“It’s too early,” you huffed, snuggling further into him as he chuckled and petted a hand over your head.
“No it is not,” he chastised softly, leaning down and kissing the place he had just stroked. “This is when I always get up, darling, you must get used to it.” And even in your sleep-addled mind, that sentence made you shiver. You would have to get used to it. This would happen regularly and you would have to get used to it. You would have beamed if your face weren’t too tired to express emotion properly.
“Mmm,” you just mumbled something unintelligible before huffing and lifting yourself up. “Fine, but only because I can’t be doing the walk of shame at work and I need to get a change of clothes.”
He smiled softly at you, watching you roll off of him and sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes as you willed yourself to get up and go to the bathroom. You were still wearing only his t-shirt and he allowed himself a lecherous look at your figure as you walked. He couldn’t quite believe that you had been in his bed the night before, that he had been lucky enough to have you in his arms, to kiss you and tell you he loved you. He smiled to himself and turned away as the bathroom door clicked shut.
The evening before, Baelor had put out a spare toothbrush for you, had put your clothes in the washing machine then transferred them to the drier and then folded them when they came out fresh and warm. He had left them for you on his desk, climbed back into bed, held a glass of water to your mouth and chastised you for not drinking enough during the day. He had programmed his private number into your phone and sent himself a text message which just contained a picture of you sticking your tongue out at the camera. Then he had wrapped you up in his arms and caressed your hair gently until you dropped off to sleep. It had been the kind of evening you had dreamed about on your loneliest nights.
When you came back out of the bathroom and relinquished it to him, he kissed the top of your head and told you to wait for him. He had called down for one of the cars and the driver would take you back to your apartment. He came back out dressed in gym clothes and smelling of his minty toothpaste. He wore a loose pair of shorts and a black compression shirt and you almost wanted to tell him to work out in bed with you instead of wasting time at the gym.
You stayed in his clothes as he walked you down the stairs and to the side entrance where the car was parked up and waiting for you. You clutched your work bag tight in your hands, your clothes folded over your arm, and just before you walked out of the door, you pressed a firm kiss to his mouth.
“I love you,” you murmured, and he smiled into it.
“I love you too,” he sighed, and then with a soft pat to your behind, he sent you out to the car.
3 days later…
Baelor tapped his pen against his desk as he stared at the unread messages on your chat. He had sent them an hour ago, and you still had neither opened nor responded to them. It had been three days since you had kissed, since you had told him you loved him, since you had been cuddled up in his bed, and he felt like an addict. ‘Was this how his nephew felt when he was kept from the wine?’
In the grand scheme of things, three days was not very long. But each had been filled with an excited anticipation that then went unfulfilled. You had not had the opportunity to see each other for work purposes (and you had not made up some excuse to come see him at a random point which was rather unusual). Though you had been messaging back and forth, you had not made any suggestion of coming back to the East Wing with him since (perhaps he had been a bit too subtle in his bid not to be pushy…).
Baelor abruptly stood up, tossed his pen down on the desk and walked out of his office, a determined set to his face as he went in the direction of the media team’s offices. Perhaps it was brash, reckless, and a tad bit stupid. But those were all the things you apparently incited in him, and he would have it no other way.
You hummed quietly to your music as you worked at your desk. Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed up an interview proposal for TIME magazine, bobbing your head to the tunes. It was because of this that you didn’t notice the slow silence descending on the room.
Slowly, the clicking of keyboards came to a halt, people’s conversations diminishing to whispers and eyes all flicking up from computer screens to watch the man that had just entered traverse across the room.
He appeared casual, hands in his pockets, offering people smiles as he meandered his way around to your desk. You were utterly oblivious, mouthing the lyrics to the song as you scrolled through what you had written so far, moving your head to the rhythm.
He stood just behind your chair, watching you with a barely contained smile. Why did you have to look so sweet like this? He considered tapping you on the shoulder, resting his hand on your desk, thinking through what action may be best to catch your attention without jolting you too much, when Dunk beat him to it.
Dunk tapped his fingers on your desk, looking at you with wide eyes then nudging his head silently behind you. You laughed a little, tugging your headphones off and squinting at the man in confusion.
“Wha- oh.” You turned in your chair and stared right at Baelor’s stomach before lifting your eyes to his face. He raised an eyebrow at you, a little smirk on his mouth, and you felt yourself fill with heat.
“I messaged you about a quick meeting but I don’t think you saw it. I had a spare moment,” he told you casually, though he was lying straight through his teeth. Yes, he did have a spare moment, no, the message had not been about a quick meeting.
You gasped a little, swiftly turning back to your desk and finally picking up your phone and flipping it around to see the message from him. You frowned and turned to him, shaking your head apologetically.
“Shit, sorry,” you huffed, “I was so lost in my work. Um, would you want to go back to your office?” You asked, standing hurriedly and unplugging your laptop to snatch it up against your chest. You were buzzing with energy now, a mix of excitement and fear at the thought of being discovered, at knowing you probably wouldn’t be.
“Yes, let’s,” he answered simply, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him. You nodded in thanks, smiled with a hint of panic at Dunk who only sent you a thumbs up in reassurance, and then hurried yourself out and to Baelor’s office.
He didn’t say anything until you were inside with the door shut. He stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets and a serious look descending on his face. You trembled a little in your heels, staring at him as if you were waiting for something to burst. He suddenly walked closer, gripped either side of your face in his hands and kissed you firmly.
You gasped a little against his mouth, pressing into it happily, leaning your head forward so your nose slotted into the crease of his cheek. You clutched your laptop tighter to your chest, a precaution in case you lost yourself too much. Then Baelor pulled away and stepped back, nodding once.
“Right,” he sighed, licking his lips for a moment, “now that that’s out of the way. Why have I not seen you for three days?”
You pursed your lips, averting your eyes to the floor as that ugly feeling you had been fighting off returned.
“Um…”
“I don’t mind if you want your space, or if you’re rethinking everything. Though it would break my heart, I would end this right now if I knew it would make you happy. That’s all I want.” His words were firm, sincere, and you shot your eyes back up to his face, a different kind of panic climbing up in you.
“Oh my seven, no!” You gasped, hurriedly putting your laptop down on one of the sofas before jogging back to Baelor. You invaded his space, flattening your palms to his chest and shaking your head hurriedly. “No, Baelor, no, that’s not it at all. I just… I guess I got in my own head a little bit. The second I got in the car, I wanted to text you and tell you that I missed you. I felt so alone in the shower in my apartment, and the minute I walked into work, I just wanted to come find you in your office. But… I know you’re really busy right now, especially with the new health insurance rollout, and I didn’t want to be overly clingy or a bother.”
You chewed on your lip as you sighed through your nose, dropping your head to his chest and snuggling yourself into his arms. He wrapped them over your back, kissed the top of your head, and rested his chin there.
“I’ve told you this before, but I will not hesitate to tell you it again as many times as you need to hear it. You are not a bother. You will never be a bother. I want all of that. Yes, I am busy, there is no question about that, but ten minutes in my office would not hurt.” He kissed your hair again and then pulled back so he could look you in the eye. “Don’t deny me your company.”
You smiled and nodded, caressing his cheek for a moment before nuzzling your nose against his cheek teasingly. He chuckled and unwrapped one arm from around your waist to guide you over to the sofa. He settled down there and then pulled you into his lap, sighing happily when you curled up against him after kicking off your heels.
“Will you come back with me tonight?” He asked softly, rubbing your back.
“Mhm,” you hummed happily, “I would love to. I can finally force you to watch the Pride and Prejudice movie.” He groaned as if you had suggested reinstating state-level torture, but you just swatted at his chest.
“Baelorrrr,” you whined, rising up and nudging his nose with yours. “It’s an amazing movie, and you have to watch it.”
“Alright, my love, alright,” he sighed, accepting defeat far too quickly, smiling as he did it. You beamed at him, pecking his mouth, and then settled back down against his chest.
“Be grateful I’m not forcing you to watch the Twilight movies.”
If someone were to ask you and Baelor how you were feeling about your lives recently, the two of you would have an identical answer: happier than I’ve ever been. The two of you managed to find a routine that worked well for you, and settled into it throughout the week.
On Mondays you would go back to your apartment by yourself to recuperate and have some alone time, but if either of you missed the other too much (which, let’s face it, was every week) you would hop on a phone call within minutes. On Tuesdays you would pack a spare change of clothes in your bag, wait until everyone in the office had left, then walk to the entrance to the East Wing where he would meet you and take you up to his rooms for a lovely evening together. On Wednesdays and Thursdays you would force yourself back to your apartment, but Friday mornings promised three days of bliss.
You and Baelor would film together at your usual allotted time, and from there he would walk you back to the East Wing. You would spend Saturday and Sunday with him, slow and lazy and finding random things to do in the sprawling halls of the Red Keep, and then Sunday evening under the shadow of night, you would be driven back to your apartment with a final kiss.
It was often difficult to say goodbye, to content yourselves with phone calls and text messages, but each time you found yourself snuggled up in his arms again, it felt like every lonely moment was washed away.
“Come along,” Baelor sighed softly, smiling as he held your hand and guided you through the halls.
“Where are you taking me?” You asked with a giggle, eyes bright as he finally stopped in front of a door and opened it to lead you into the most beautiful kitchen you had ever seen.
“Here,” he huffed, a proud twinkle in his eye as he shut the door behind you.
This was probably your dream kitchen. At least, it would be the one you dreamed of now. The old style stone continued in here, yellow lighting giving everything a warmth that instantly made you feel at home. The cupboards were tastefully done in rustic wood with black iron handles, but all the fixtures were modern and sleek. All the appliances were up to date, every kind of pot, pan, utensil stocked. There were little plantpots of fresh herbs along one of the window sills, dish towels hanging from random places giving it a lovely lived-in look.
Baelor led you to the sleek kitchen island in the middle, sitting you down on one of the stools there as you dazedly looked around. He kissed the top of your head quickly and then walked around to the other side where the stove and oven were. He reached down and grasped something before unfolding it and slipping what turned out to be an apron over his head. You giggled a little, watching him tie it behind his back securely and then clapping his hands together.
“Right,” he sighed, smiling brightly at you. “I thought it was high time I finally cooked you dinner,” and you felt your insides melt and turn to mush. You leaned your elbows on the island and rested your chin in your hands, sighing dreamily.
“My gosh, a sexy man cooking me dinner, am I dreaming?” Baelor chuckled, shaking his head and then turning around, but you could see the pride in his shoulders and you hid your grin behind your hand. “What are you making me handsome?”
“A seafood pasta with lemon and chili,” he responded, his voice a little muffled when he squatted down and rummaged for something. He came back up with a pan in one hand and a pot in the other.
Your heart felt full to bursting. It was his son’s favourite dish, the last dish he remembered cooking for him. And now he was making it for you…
Slowly, you stood from the stool and rounded the island to come over to him. He frowned, admonishment already on his tongue, but you just cupped his face and dragged his head down so you could kiss him firmly on the mouth. He chuckled, holding the pans out so he wouldn’t accidently hit you with them.
“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, then pulled away properly. “What can I do to help? And before you say nothing, I would like to remind you that I get very irritating when I’m bored and restless.”
He smiled widely and nodded, looking around for a moment as he hummed in thought.
“Why don’t you hunt around for a chopping board and then get the lemons and chillies out from the fridge while I attempt to tackle the prawns?” He suggested, smiling when you nodded with a ‘yes, chef’.
The two of you worked in tandem, chopping and measuring and stirring, cheekily pinching each other’s sides and stealing kisses at slightly inopportune moments. You chatted about work, about your friends and families, about your lives before and what you wanted after. He put on soft music in the background and while the pasta boiled and the sauce simmered, he wrapped you up in his arms and you simply swayed to it, eyes closed and hearts content.
You sat at the island and ate, moaning in pleasure and begging him to cook for you every night. He smiled and told you he would without complaint, leaning forward to gently wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of your lip.
He wouldn’t allow you to come near the dirty pots and pans, but was eventually convinced into letting you put the cutlery and spoons into the dishwasher as he loaded the rest of it. He took a tub of ice cream out of the freezer and two spoons, then led you back up to his sitting room, settling in beside you on the sofa as you queued up a tv show and pulled the blanket over both of you.
When the ice cream was devoured and you were feeling all pleasant and dazed, you kissed him on the mouth one more time and murmured an ‘I love you’.
“What are you watching?” Baelor asked, frowning at you as he stood in front of the bathroom door, rubbing over his hair with a towel.
You were snuggled up in his bed, reclining against the pillows with the duvet pulled up to your chest. You had your phone in hand, resting lightly against your stomach as you stared right at it. You were chewing on your finger a little, eyes laser focused, and he could hear random songs playing as you watched and scrolled.
“Nothing,” you dismissed, though he caught the glint of something in your eye as you glanced at him over the top of the phone.
“It can’t be nothing when you’re watching it like that,” he retorted, raising an eyebrow in question as he draped the towel over his desk chair then walked to his side of the bed.
He was wearing the flannel pajama bottoms he had given you that fateful evening and nothing else, and you excitedly watched as he clambered onto the bed and settled himself beside you with a long sigh. He wrapped his arm over your shoulder, adjusting the duvet over his own legs as well, and then trained his eyes on your phone screen.
The video was backed by an intense, thumping song, and clips flashed across the screen. And they were all of him. He huffed, rising slightly so he could look down at you with an unimpressed look.
“Are you truly watching those thirsty things again?” He asked, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles.
“Thirst edits,” you corrected, “and yes, of course I am.” You answered as if it was obvious, scrolling onto the next one. This one had clips of him from one of the press conferences he did at the very beginning of his presidency, featuring all his easy smiles and confident responses.
“I do not understand why you watch these,” he groaned, sliding down a little, but he kept his eyes on your screen as well.
“Because you’re sexy and everyone knows it, which means people create amazing things like these to fuel my obsession with you,” you shrugged, kissing his chest teasingly before refocusing on your phone, ignoring the indignant huff and groan he let out.
The next video truly stumped him though, because it did not just feature him. It was a compilation of himself, his brother, even his son and nephews. He glanced between you and the screen with a deeply furrowed brow, feeling a spark of irritation rise in his chest.
“Is this a thirst edit of all the male members of my family?” He asked, voice low and grumbly, and you nodded with a little ‘mhm’.
“Just the fit ones,” you responded, not tearing your eyes from the screen. He rose up a little again, the same way the twitch of irritation in his chest did, and he pulled your phone from your hands. “Hey! I was watching that,” you whined, turning to him with an exaggerated pout as he switched it off and tossed it onto your nightstand.
“I’m not going to watch you drool over my brother and nephews, thank you,” he grumped, hovering over you with that frown still on his face.
You bit your lip to hide your smirk, feeling giddy at the thought of him being jealous over you (and particularly mischievous about what you could do with that knowledge).
“You have to admit,” you began slowly, “your brother’s hot in a grumpy DILF way.” If it was possible, Baelor’s frown deepened, hands clenching in the sheets beside your shoulders.
“A ‘DILF’ way? What on earth is that?” He asked, slowly leaning down to drape his body over yours.
“A Dad I’d Like to Fu-”
“Do not finish that word,” he cut in quickly, eyes clenching shut as he huffed against you. You fell into a fit of giggles again, wrapping your arms around his torso, your legs over his hips, and pulled him into you so he would rest his weight fully there. He rubbed his nose against yours lightly, but you could still see the tense set of his jaw.
“Don’t worry,” you soothed, kissing along his jawline and up to his ear. “You’ll always be my number one DILF,” you giggled, and with a soft bite to the shell of his ear, he pulled back just so he could lean in again and kiss you hungrily on the mouth.
You snuggled yourself up under a colourful crocheted blanket on your couch. The TV was on in the background, a comfort show softly playing though your eyes had long gone unfocused. You and Baelor had only just said goodbye over the phone, long whispered ‘I love you’s as he walked out of his room.
Dignitaries from Braavos had come for a diplomatic visit and he was hosting the welcome dinner. You had smiled happily at him over the phone as he showed you his tuxedo in the bathroom mirror, nattering off compliments as he thanked you and tried to tamp down the pride in his smile.
He had gazed upon you softly in return, told you how cozy and sweet you looked in your pyjamas wrapped up in a blanket, how he wished to be there with you. You had just blown him a kiss and told him that in three days time, you could have exactly that on his sofa in the Red Keep.
But now that you were off the call, now that the quiet had settled around you again, you couldn’t help but feel down. You looked around at your little apartment, at all your little knicknacks and trinkets, at the veritable forest of houseplants on the windowsill and the prints of impressionist art you had painstakingly hung up with renter-friendly hooks, and you couldn’t help but wish that Baelor was there with you.
Sometimes, on those lonely nights when you returned to your place instead of the East Wing, you just wanted him to be there with you. You wanted him to be able to drive down the street, park up outside your building and casually ride the elevator up. You wanted him to sit on your sofa as you took out a fresh batch of cookies from the oven, or to snuggle you into his side as the two of you waited for the delivery man to bring you a fresh pizza.
You wanted to go to a restaurant with him, to stroll down the street or peruse a bookstore, not because you felt like you were missing out on life, but because you wanted that life with him. You didn’t care what, as long as it was with him.
You wrapped the blanket a little tighter around you as you sighed. It wasn’t a big deal, not really. You tried not to let it get you down too much, the thoughts only came when you were forced to be alone. But sometimes it hurt more than others, sometimes everything felt a little more difficult than usual, and you wished you could skip forward to the days when all these worries would melt away. It wasn’t time yet, but you knew it would come, and it was only that thought keeping you going on nights like these.
“Hi!” You trilled as you shut the door to his office behind you, hurrying over to him. He looked up from his laptop, smiling brightly as he always did when he saw you, and wrapped an arm around your waist as you leaned down to kiss him. He hummed into it, smiling against your mouth as you cupped his face and wiggled your way onto his lap.
“Mmm, hello to you too,” he teased, pushing back a little so you could straddle him. He gripped your hips in both hands and leaned back a little so he could look at you properly. Your smile was mischievous, a teasing bite to your lip as you planted your hands on his shoulders and leaned down to kiss him again.
“I was missing you,” you breathed out just a hair’s breadth from his lips. “A lot.”
“Mmm,” he hummed again, running one broad palm up your back and back down again before squeezing one of your arsecheeks. “I would have thought our morning left you with enough of me,” he whispered into your neck, rubbing his lips up your throat. You shivered, just pressing your teeth to his jawline for a moment.
“I think it was precisely the thought of that that made me miss you more,” you huffed, kissing where you had bitten and then moving up towards his ear. “I can still feel you there.” He chuckled softly though it was tense with desire, and reached up to grip your chin, bringing your mouth back to his.
As he slowly dipped his tongue past your lips, his hand traversed down from your chin to your breasts, grasping one tightly through your shirt and bra, kneading it a little before he continued his path down. He pulled the button of your trousers open then flattened his palm to your stomach, his elbow sticking out over the seat a little awkwardly. He slid his fingers down past the hem, but kept them over your underwear, rubbing a little over your mound and then to where your crease began. He could feel a damp spot against his fingertips and he honed in on it, pressing there until you shuddered in his arms and whined a little against his mouth.
“Shh,” he soothed as he pulled away from your kiss, panting a little as he pressed a gentle peck to your cheek. “Just feel it, darling,” he breathed out.
Baelor brought his fingers back up to the hem of your panties and then dipped his fingers under that too. He pressed his middle finger to your crease until he felt the wet heat there and then pressed it even further until the thick part at the front of his finger pressed to your clit. You slowly shifted your hips forward, chasing the smooth gliding feeling, and his other hand steadied your waist as you did it.
“Baelor,” you moaned quietly, gripping the sides of his neck and hurriedly kissing him again.
You pressed your tongue into his mouth as he pushed one finger up into you, as he pushed it back and forth before slowly adding another finger. His palm and fingers were hot and slick now, gliding all over, pressing in places that made sparks fly.
Then there was a knock at the door, a slightly hurried rapping, and before either of you could gather yourself, before you could even fully pull your lips away from Baelor, the door was opening and Luca was stepping in.
You gasped sharply, shaking like a leaf in the wind as Baelor hurriedly pulled his hand up and out of your trousers. It shined in the light, the slick still clear against it, and he hurriedly hid it under the table. You stood up quickly, refusing to turn around and face the door. You fixed your eyes out of the windows behind Baelor’s desk and pressed one hand to your mouth.
You were rigid with panic, frozen with mortification. Your hands shook where you kept them to your face, your body still singing with pleasure but suddenly cold and sharp too. You couldn’t even move yourself to straighten out your clothes, to turn around and face Luca and the truth of it all.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Luca apologised quickly, averting his eyes to the floor though his sunglasses hid the movement. “I- um, one of the messengers said that Daemon Blackfyre was about to do a press conference condemning your new health insurance program rollout, and they thought you should watch it in case you may need to respond to any of the claims.”
Baelor nodded, lips pursed as he cleared his throat and pulled himself a little closer into the desk.
“Alright, thank you,” he answered curtly, sighing a little as Luca nodded and began leaving again. “And Luca?” Baelor called back, finally looking at the young man properly, a stony look in his eyes. “Wait for me to reply next time.”
You clenched your eyes shut at that, lips pressing harshly together as your breath became even more shallow with panic.
“Yes sir, sorry sir,” Luca answered quickly, pursing his lips and hurriedly walking back out, shutting the door firmly behind himself.
You heard Baelor sigh, long and low, and the sound of a bit of tissue being pulled out of the box. Then there was the creak of his chair and his arms around your waist, pulling you in close to his chest. He pressed his lips to your forehead, kissing you there gently as he simply held you.
“Oh my seven,” you whispered over and over, and he just held you tighter as you shook. “Oh my seven hells, Baelor.”
“It’s alright,” he comforted, running his hand up and down your spine. “It’s… not ideal that he walked in on that, but it’s alright if Luca knows. Other members of their team do.”
“I know that! But that- still, agh!” You curled in on yourself even more, still rigid with the mortification. “Oh my seven.”
“It’s alright,” he whispered again, and he just continued rubbing you all over, slowly dragging his palms up and down your arms and your shoulders and your back again.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to move for another hour,” you murmured, and he huffed out a chuckle, happy that you were at least thawing a little from your panic.
“That’s alright too,” he responded, draping his arms over your shoulders and just hugging you closer.
“This is really bad, Baelor,” you mumbled into his chest, feeling one of his buttons catch against your lip a little. “We were supposed to be discrete, careful, not… fucking around in your office and getting walked in on.”
“I know,” he whispered, lips moving against your hair, “but Luca can keep a secret better than you or I, I think. And we can just be more careful from now on.”
You nodded in his grip only because you didn’t feel like talking any more, but you weren’t sure his words comforted you as much as they could have.
“Come, let’s go watch the press conference, and you can leave after that,” he directed you, pulling away just a little to look you in the eye. He kissed you on the forehead one more time and then reached down to do up the button of your trousers for you.
You smiled in thanks, smoothing your hands down your front, but you shook your head when he gestured to the sofa.
“No, I should- I should probably get back to work,” you murmured, running your hand over your hair and making sure all your jewellery was in place and you didn’t look like you were just getting fingered by your boss.
“Alright,” he acquiesced, but he was frowning a little and it made you smile. “I’ll see you in the evening?” And you nodded, lifting higher onto your toes and kissing him softly.
“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” you affirmed, and with one more kiss and a squeeze of the hand, you braced yourself to walk out of the door.
You opened and shut it quickly, walking hurriedly down the hall without even acknowledging Luca and Donnal, but you heard footsteps behind you and a low murmured ‘wait’. You turned to find Luca following behind you, catching up quickly with his long legs. You felt the heat of embarrassment burning through you again, and you were almost tempted into just turning and running regardless.
Luca gestured you down the hall and into a small meeting room, shutting the door behind him with a click as you frowned and began shaking your head.
“I am so sorry about that Luca, oh my seven,” you spoke hurriedly, clenching and unclenching your hands at your sides. “You should not have seen that, we should not have been in that position, just… yeah, no, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s… it’s ok,” he told you quietly, pushing his sunglasses up onto his forehead and pursing his lips. The room descended into silence for a minute, and you felt suffocated by it. “I just… I wanted to ask if you were ok.” You paused at that, glancing up to him with your mouth parting in surprise. “Like, if he’s making you do something you don’t want to-”
“Oh gods no! No! It was all very much consensual, do not worry!” You hurried out, a different sort of panic building in you now, your hands coming up quickly.
“Right, ok,” he broke out, turning red at the neck.
“No, I… um, yeah, we’ve… sort of been seeing each other,” you said with a wince, words stilted and awkward. “I guess you’re like the one person in this place I can actually tell,” you finally sighed, pressing both your hands to your face and shaking your head. “Baelor and I have been together for a little while now.”
Luca nodded, but there was something heavy in his eyes. You just watched him, watched the way his shoulders sagged a little and he nodded slowly, as if physically absorbing your words. He put both his hands in his pockets and then clenched one of them tightly as he said,
“I just… I care about you.” You stared at him, blinking slowly before smiling and nodded.
“Oh,” you breathed out, feeling a little more at ease. “That’s… really sweet, thank you. I care about you too, you know? You’re really nice and I’m really happy to have found a friend.”
Luca nodded again, smiled though his lips felt particularly tight, and then he opened the door for you and just waved as you walked out. He closed the door behind you and fell against it, clenching his eyes shut and sighing long and low.
That was the most confession he would allow himself. That was the most he could ever say to you. And he would just have to live with it.
You were nervous around Luca for a while after that. You handed him your ID demurely each time, and though he still greeted you kindly, there was a lingering tension there that you weren’t sure would ever go away.
Donnal offered you a sympathetic look every now and again as you greeted them quietly, and you wondered if he knew what Luca had walked in on, if he knew of the awkward conversation and your inability to ever look Luca in the eye again. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
Whatever it was, you didn’t want to dwell on it too much. You were just grateful that nothing had imploded since. Life continued on as it had done before (if a little more awkwardly at times) and you went happily with it.
You held Baelor’s hand softly as the two of you walked out of the sliding glass door, Meleys gambolling happily ahead of you. It had been a tiring day full of meetings for both of you, but this moment made it all worth it. The sun was going down over Blackwater Bay, the sea and sky tinged in a lovely array of orange and pink.
The two of you walked along the side path now, careful not to cut across the grass in case someone managed to snag another picture of you. Meleys was happy enough to roam though as the two of you threaded through the hedgerows and flowerbushes on the way to the wooded area.
“I was just getting kind of annoyed is all,” you sighed to him, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb absentmindedly. “They were like blowing up my phone with all their plans and stuff but like… hello? I’m at work and I do not want to hear about how you’re going out to the club on a Wednesday night,” you huffed.
Baelor smiled a little, but it was tense, his eyes focused on the path ahead rather than you. That familiar uncomfortable feeling was pulling at his spine again, the one that reminded him of your life outside of the Red Keep, of the things you were missing out on by being there with him.
“Do you not want to join them on a night out?” He asked quietly, hand tightening a little around yours. “You're still young and lively, shouldn’t you be going out and having fun with your friends?”
It was as if some sick part of him wanted to urge you on, as if he wanted you to prove that dark part of him right and say ‘actually yeah, fuck this, let me go out with my friends and leave you behind old man’. But you just giggled and scoffed, raising your eyebrow at him.
“Firstly, I do go out and have fun with my friends, I just have no interest in going to a club on a Wednesday night with a bunch of drunk interns and weirdos,” you raised your conjoint hands to tick off your list on your other hand and he smiled a little. “We go to cafes and bookstores and craft shops and that is my personal heaven, thank you very much.” You smiled up at him and kissed the back of his hand cheekily.
“Secondly, you calling me ‘young and lively’ makes you sound like some eighty year old grandfather talking about ‘back in my day’,” you sassed, bending a little with your laughter when he shot you a warning look, his mouth setting into a hard line and his hand tightening around yours. “Come ooon, Baelor,” you dragged jokingly, bumping into him a little, “you’re like only just hitting middle aged, and that doesn’t mean anything either by the way.” The corner of his mouth turned up a little at that, appeased just slightly.
“And finally,” you added, tugging on his arm. “Just because you were definitely one of the lads when you were my age,” you paused, raising your eyebrows at him, daring him to deny you as he smirked and turned away a little. “Yeah, exactly, so, just because you were an absolute lad when you were in your twenties doesn’t mean I like any of that stuff. I’m a grandma at heart bubs, I like sitting on the sofa and watching movies and crafting. Or just laying in bed and reading. A lovely night out for me is a trip to the cinema.”
Satisfied with your response to his absurd questions, you huffed and let go of his hand only to wrap his arm over your shoulders so you could snuggle into his side. He smiled and bent to kiss your head as the two of you continued to stroll.
“Alright, my little grandma,” he teased, rubbing his nose teasingly against your temple, “alright.”
The two of you walked on, occasionally petting Meleys when she came running back for one, and fell into easy chatter about some other topic. But the dark thing in the back of Baelor’s head didn’t disappear, just quieted for a little while.
Knock, knock, knock
“Yes?” Dana looked up from her computer as you pushed open the glass door and timidly walked in. Your smile was rather nervous, and you fidgeted with your hands as you greeted her and came to sit down in front of her desk.
“Can I… can I talk to you about something?” You began quietly, looking more at her desk than at her. “It can’t leave this room.”
One of Dana’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, and she put her computer into sleep mode, leaning back a little in her seat to get comfortable. She didn’t say anything, just gestured with her hand for you to proceed, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts.
“I… well, I did something. Or, I guess, I didn’t do it, I kind of… hm, shit, ok, this is way harder than I thought…”
“If this is about you and Baelor then you don’t need to tell me anything, because I’m quite sure I’ve guessed.”
Your head snapped up, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open as you stared at her, gaping like a fish. She raised that same eyebrow again, smirking as she crossed her arms over her chest and one leg over the other.
“What?!”
“I’ve been in the business of people for a long time, and you two might be subtle, but not subtle enough for me.” She shrugged, looking at you expectantly for a response.
“I… oh my seven, ok, um, wow. Ok.”
“I don’t need details, actually, I don’t think I want details, but if that’s what you were going to tell me, then I already know.”
You smiled with relief, sagging a little in your seat as you shook your head and slapped a hand to your forehead. You took a minute to breathe, to calm your racing heart and stifle the unnecessary urge to giggle.
“I needed to tell someone. I’m so happy and I feel a bit crazy about it. I trust you, and I know you won’t tell anyone.” Then you paused and chewed on your lip. “And… Luca, one of his secret service, walked in on us getting busy in his office and I’m still freaking out about it.”
“Seven fucks,” she spat, grimacing at the image of it, and she shook her head. “Right, well… that’s… yeah, that’s the kind of thing I didn’t need to know about. Seriously? Girl, I have to be in that office.”
You giggled a little, suddenly feeling the weight of it all lift from your shoulders. You sighed and gave her an apologetic smile, shrugging your shoulders a little.
“Well, you don’t need to worry because the secret service has even tighter NDAs than we do, so even if he wanted to tell someone, he would basically be disappeared by the minister of defence before he could open his mouth to say ‘Baelor’.” Dana adjusted her glasses higher on her nose and offered you a comforting smile.
“Yeah, that’s what Baelor said. I guess I just wanted to hear it from someone else too.” You chewed on your lip, nodding to yourself.
The two of you descended into silence, you staring at the table in thought and Dana watching you closely.
“Are you happy?” She asked quietly, face blank of judgement. You glanced up at her then, and the smile that dawned on your face, the tears that collected in your eyes were pure and true.
“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been, and the happiest I’m ever going to be,” you whispered, clenching your hands together. She smiled too, and you could almost see a mirroring sheen to her eyes.
“Good,” she sighed, nodding and glancing away with quick little blinks. “Good.”
It was raining again in King’s Landing. The day had been dark and gloomy, that particular grey in the clouds that made everything dim and sickly, but the downpour had only begun in the evening. It had started off heavy, a sudden sheet of rain that then never quit, and you had felt a thrill through you at knowing you didn’t have to walk back home in that.
Home… what an interesting word that was to you recently. Yes, home was technically your apartment a few streets away, with all your decor and warm lamps, with all your blankets and trinkets and belongings. But… but recently, home was also that space in the middle of Baelor’s bed, where he held you tight and kissed the top of your head and whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Home was your stool in the kitchen of the residential wing of the Red Keep, where you sat, head resting in your hand, elbow on the island, as you watched him cook another of his mother’s recipes he wanted you to try. Home was him, his kiss and his arms and his one blue eye and one brown eye. Yes, you did not need to walk back home in the downpour, but you were still going home. Those thoughts from weeks ago, those plaguing things that got you down on lonely nights suddenly began to weigh less and then nothing at all.
The weather and the late hour were making you antsy, and you could not wait until Pat in the corner finally got up and took his leave. You were almost always the last to leave the office now, the absence of others was the safest cover for you to slip out into the back hallway rather than walking out through the main door.
You waited ten minutes after Pat left. Five you spent waiting to see if anyone was going to come back for anything they left, and five you used to pack up your things. You hurried through the halls, urged on by the phantom sensation of being in his room, and when you did finally walk through the door and took a deep breath in, it was like your soul settled down.
Baelor had not arrived yet, though you were not surprised. However late you worked, he always worked later, and you knew there had never been as committed a President as him (though perhaps you were immensely biased).
You put your bag down, shrugged off your blazer, and hummed to yourself as you strolled around the room. The work day was over and you had all the time in the world for yourself now. You ran your fingers over the bedsheets and then fixed your eyes out of the windows.
It had been a long time since you had had the safety of enjoying the rain, or at least the desire to enjoy it the way you had once done as a child, carefree and fully. You were hit with the memories now, of grey and gloomy days made fun by your friends running around in the downpour, or your father dragging you outside and chasing you as you squealed and giggled and got drenched in the rain.
You hurriedly took off your shoes, opened the balcony door, and stepped out onto the concrete. You just stood there, feeling the patter of the rain droplets hitting you, wetting your hair and face, and laughed to yourself because the last time you had been so permeated by the rain was also perhaps the best night of your life. You let that joy course through you, the memory of his desperate kiss in the deserted hallway, and turned your face up to the sky.
Baelor opened the door to his room with a smile already climbing onto his lips in anticipation of you. He had seen your workbag on the sofa, your coat on the stand by the door with your shoes neatly placed next to it, and the entire picture filled him with something tight and sweet.
It had been a difficult day, he could not deny it. One council meeting after another, and each forcibly adjourned when the time was up without his goals having been achieved. He hated days like this to his core, days during which he felt he did not get as much done as he could have. It felt like a punishment for not having worked hard enough, for not doing his duty to the country.
But he had you to come back to, and for him, that was enough to wipe the heavy look he had entered the living room with, and to add that last miniscule bit of energy back into his body.
He did not notice you at first, just looked around the space with a frown of confusion when he found the bathroom door open but no you in sight. It took a moment for his eyes to find your figure through the balcony doors, to see you standing there with your arms spread wide, your face turned up to the downpour.
Baelor felt his breath leave him. He stood still and just watched you beam as if the sky was gifting you only with the rain. Your hair was beginning to get drenched, the top of it already permeated, and your shirt was dark over your front. You looked so happy, so… at peace.
He was taken aback by the sudden burn of tears in his eyes. It was so unexpected, the hefty pang in his chest and stomach and the burn of guilt. Yes, it was guilt. You were such a beautiful, happy creature. You were easy with your smiles, so giving and loving, yet here you were, cooped up in his room, on his miniscule balcony, because you could not be out and about with him. Because you could not be free with him the way you should have been.
You were young and full of life. You were a splendidly strong person, someone who shone like the sun, and he was the dark clouds dulling your light. It had been building for weeks now, he knew it as clearly as the rain water falling from the sky. All those nights where you went out with your friends when you could not with him. All those nights where the two of you stayed tucked up in his bed reading books like people far older than you when you should have been out exploring and living your life to the fullest. Of course it was his fault that you were caged down in such a way.
Baelor pressed a hand to his mouth as the anguish built in him, a painful thing curling in his chest and bearing down on his heart. He took a deep breath in, and without thinking, he walked out to join you on the balcony.
You turned when you heard the door open. Your face stretched into a bright smile when you saw him, like your heart was filling over capacity, and you happily reached out to thread your arm under his and wrap it around his back.
Baelor could feel the rain instantly hitting his hair, could see it dotting over his dress shirt in quick little pats. He felt it pecking at his face, landing on his lashes, and he blinked through it to look at you. Your happy little face, your easy smile, so kind, so at peace… he felt the wrenching in his gut at the prospect of ruining it. He stood close to you, staring down into your face, and you could see a tiredness to his eyes that had not been there when you left him that morning. You reached up to cup his cheek but he intercepted it, carefully held your hand in his.
“You should leave me,” he spoke quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain.
He watched your smile slowly drop from your face, your brows knit together a little as you frowned.
“What?” You breathed out, your mind struggling to catch up with your ears. He clenched his eyes shut, tilting his head down a little.
He knew it was selfish to blind himself to his own actions. He knew it was cowardly to close his eyes as he did it, but he could not bear to watch as he destroyed his own happiness for the sake of yours.
“Why… what?” You asked, your hands going rigid against him. You pulled back a little, staring at him with a hot panic beginning to boil in your stomach. “Why would you say that?”
He blinked his eyes open, and when he looked at you, he smiled with such pain that you felt a lump develop in your throat. You clenched your hand in the fabric of his shirt across his back, as if holding on lest you be ripped away.
“I love you, more than anything-”
“And I you,” you cut in fiercely, glaring at him a little. “So why would you tell me to leave you?”
“Because this isn’t a life you should be forced to live,” he finally managed to get out, his voice a tired, wrecked thing. “You should be off living a life in full force. You should be out in restaurants wearing pretty dresses and catching the eye of every person in the room. You should be hanging off someone’s arm, proud of not only yourself but your partner. You should be praised and it should be shouted to the world that someone is so lucky to have you. You deserve all this and more, and because of my position, because of my obligation and my duty, I cannot give you that.”
He clenched his jaw tightly, feeling the fierceness of his conviction press into his chest, clog at his throat. His eyes were rough, wrecked, anguished, reflecting the conflict and turmoil that you knew was coursing through his mind.
Your lower lip trembled as you watched him. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to be angry at him for assuming all of this, for somehow twisting himself into believing that you cared about anything other than having him, but you could not be angry. No, you were sad, upset, hurt beyond belief that he thought so little of himself beyond his work, and thought so little of how much you loved him.
You clenched your hand against his back, carefully extricated the other from his grip, and used it to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch, a motion of pure instinct. His cheek was soft and smooth against your palm, and you rubbed your thumb under his eye the way he often did for you. You tipped his head down a little and made sure his eyes were on you before speaking, watching the flutter of his lids and the pinch of his brows where he frowned with pain.
“Baelor,” you whispered, voice a little clogged. “Since I met you, all I have known is that I want you. I do not care about anything else. I wouldn’t care if I was confined to this room for the rest of eternity as long as it meant I could keep having you.” His eyes fluttered shut and a breath shook out of him. “I don’t care about any of that stuff. Yeah, ok, it would be nice to go to a restaurant once in a while, or it might be nice to be able to leave the Red Keep together, but I know you couldn’t do that even before you and I got together. You bore that burden alone before, but now you don’t have to. Now I can sit inside with you, cook dinners with you in your fancy kitchen, read weird books about obscure historical events in bed with you.”
Baelor chuckled a little at your colourful language, his lips twitching up in a reluctant smile as you spoke.
“Baelor, I love you. I will say it however many times you want to hear it. I am happy with you, ok? Completely, utterly happy. I love our nights in, our sneaky little walks through the castle, our secret kisses and just the fact that this thing between us, this love, gets to only be ours.”
He nodded a little as you spoke, leaning down so his nose brushed yours, so your lips grazed his as you spoke. You caressed his face a little, turned so you could kiss his other cheek briefly.
“I worry I am dragging you down with my own heavy weight, and I would never forgive myself if you woke up one day and resented me for it,” Baelor whispered, and you knew it came from the deepest, darkest, part of him. You knew it came from that place he never let himself rest in, that corner of everyone’s mind that told them they would never be enough for anything, and you would have crumpled in his arms at the thought of your sweet, strong Baelor falling there too, if you knew you didn’t have to be strong for him in return.
You kissed him, soft and sweet and a little wet from the rain.
“You are not a heavy weight for me to carry. You breathe life into me, you lift me up to be the best version of myself. You make me into a person I can love too,” and you began to cry as you spoke, your hot tears mingling with the cool rain on your face.
“I love you,” he mumbled against your mouth, cupping your face in return and kissing you fiercely.
“I love you too,” you breathed, pushing yourself into him until you could not remember where he ended and you began.
The two of you were quiet for the rest of that evening, sharing a shower and then laying under the covers in each other’s arms. You only spoke to tell each other you loved the other, but spent much of your time in your thoughts, gently kissing or nuzzling your noses against each other.
He made love to you when the room had gone fully dark, draping his body over yours and pressing soft kisses along your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped at the feeling of him entering you. It was slow and lush, unhurried and intimate as you stared into each other’s eyes and came with a heavy pulse. He cleaned you between the legs with the wipes he kept in his side table drawer since you began staying over, and then the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The next morning, you woke up with his alarm as you did now. You smiled at him softly when he turned over to look at you after shutting it off, and you caressed his chest and kissed him there. You said hello, asked him if he was feeling better, then snuggled up again under the covers and watched him dress for the day. He left you with a kiss pressed to your head and one to your lips, promising that he would make up for the day before with a wonderful dinner in the evening.
You whispered a goodbye against his mouth, listened to him open and close the door to the living room, and when the quiet fully settled in on you again, you thought about the decision you had come to the evening before and the action you now needed to take.
Baelor glanced up from his desk when there was a hurried knock on the door. He could hear raised voices and then the door was opening quickly and Dana was storming in. He had never seen such a thunderous look on her face, such anger in her eyes, and he had never seen it directed at him before. He raised an eyebrow as she slammed the door shut behind herself and then marched up to his desk.
“Is this her own choice or have you forced her into it?” She snapped, slapping a piece of paper on the desk. Her chest was heaving as she sucked in angry breaths and her glasses had slipped a little down her nose making her appear even more severe.
“Pardon?” He glared at her in return. There was a fine line to what he would accept from people, even those he respected.
“Y/n! Is she resigning of her own volition or did you force her to do it as some cover up? If you did anything to her, so help me seven, I will destroy you. I do not care if you are the preside-”
“What?” Baelor spat, eyebrows furrowing as he reached for the piece of paper and scanned it.
I am hereby sending in my 3 month’s notice… Has been the best opportunity of my life but it’s time to move on… thank you for believing in me and supporting me… Y/n L/n
Dana paused, truly looking at Baelor for the first time since she stepped into his office. His brow was furrowed in a mix of confusion and concern, he was hurriedly reading the paper over and over again as if he couldn’t quite absorb the words, and she had never seen him look like this, not even during the most difficult council meetings.
“Oh… you didn’t know.” Her eyes widened a little and she practically fell into one of the chairs in front of his desk, taking a moment to catch her breath. “She put that on my desk this morning and emailed me a scanned copy. I haven’t had the chance to speak to her yet but I know about… you know, everything, and I guess I saw red.” Dana swiped a hand over her hair, more messy than it had ever been at work before. “...sorry.”
Baelor waved a hand in the air then glanced up at Dana.
“I would be severely insulted that you thought I was capable of that but I appreciate how much you care for her so I’ll let the storming go.” He raised an eyebrow and Dana laughed, shaking her head and pressing a hand to her face.
“Do you know anything about this then?” She asked, resting her chin in her hand and looking at Baelor with tired eyes. He was frowning again, lips pursing, and he shook his head.
“No, but I intend to find out,” and he stood quickly, leaving Dana in his office and walking out to find you.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving!” Tanzelle exclaimed, clutching her cup of tea tightly.
You, Dunk, Raymun, and Tanzelle were sitting around the table in the kitchen nursing various hot drinks as you discussed the bombshell you had dropped on everyone in the morning. You smiled at her, a tinge of sadness in your eyes.
“I will miss all of you so much, but it was time for me to move on,” you sighed, taking a long sip from your cup.
“But I thought you liked it here,” Dunk mumbled, a sad little frown on his face that made you want to hug the big bear of a man tight.
“I do, Dunk, I do. Promise. I have loved every minute of my time here, more than you could know,” you reassured, reaching out and gently patting the hand he clenched around his mug of herbal tea.
You could see all the moments like a film reel in your head. You saw your first week, felt the nervous sparks inside you as you looked at Baelor and he smiled at you, as the two of you chatted so casually, as if he was not the President and you were not just a random girl. You saw all the moments with Dunk and Raymun, playing stupid games across your desk with bits of crushed up paper. You saw all your mornings with Tanzelle, discussing office drama and her latest graphic design projects over mugs of coffee and biscuits in the kitchen. You saw the way her eyes lit up as she shared playlists with you and showed you her favourite pieces of art. You saw all four of you sitting just like this, talking about everything and nothing.
You saw Dana smiling at you, gently patting your shoulder and guiding you to a better future. You saw all her emails with the smiley faces as she praised you for a job well done, the sisterly advice she offered about everything you asked.
But most of all, you saw Baelor. You saw his polite gestures, the way he held doors open for you or messaged you asking how your day was going. You felt his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to a dance at the ball, and saw his bright smile as he bent to cuddle Meleys. You saw his anguished face as he kissed your rain-soaked lips in the desolate hallway, smelt his fresh clean cologne, felt his hair and heard him tell you he loved you. You just saw him.
It was the evening before that had convinced you this was the right move. You loved this job not for the job itself but for Baelor, and that meant you could easily let the position go if it meant you got to keep Baelor more securely. With time, you could be open, he could hold your hand outside of the East Wing and kiss your cheek in front of people if he wished. You would not have to sneak out in a car with tinted windows or wear a hoodie as you walked out and to your little apartment. Neither of you would have to carry the weight of an unnecessary guilt.
“We’ll miss you, ya know?” Raymun told you with a frown, and you almost teared up. He was not the most emotional or love dovey of your coworkers, and to hear him say that meant a lot more than anything else.
Raymun, Tanzelle, and Dunk all looked up at the same time as someone cleared their throat behind you. You had not noticed the shadow on the table, and you twisted in your seat to find Baelor standing at the door, chest heaving a little as if he had run there. He looked at you with sharp eyes and you gulped, smiling brightly at him as you let go of your mug.
“Could I speak with you please? Now.” He left no room for argument, and you would not have done so anyway. He swiftly turned around and marched back up the hallway, and you grimaced a little, leaving your mug on the table.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” you told the group softly, offering them all a pursed-lip smile as they raised their eyebrows and nodded in acceptance.
You walked back out and followed the path he made up the corridor. You jogged a little despite the pain from your heels, trying not to fall too far behind. He led you through snaking corridors and when he stopped and began to pace, you smiled as you realised it was the same corridor you had kissed in for the first time.
You stood there with your hands folded politely in front of you, watching him pace back and forth. He was frowning, lips folded a little as he pressed his hands to his waist. You had never seen him look so agitated. You fidgeted a little, refusing to speak first, and you scuffed at the toe of your left shoe with your right one.
“Why?” He finally broke out, pausing to look at you. His brows were furrowed and you stepped closer, reaching out to gently smooth your thumb over the creases.
“I found the perfect fix,” you told him simply, shrugging and smiling at him innocently. His frown deepened and he stared at you as if he was hoping to crack your mind open and lay it bare just by staring alone.
“That is unnecessarily cryptic,” he groused, finally reaching out to you. He grasped you around the ribs on either side, gently rubbing his hands up and down along your sides. You shivered a little and smiled wider as you went all warm inside.
“Sorry,” you huffed with a laugh, cupping his cheeks and pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth. “I was thinking after last night,” you told him softly, fiddling with his collar as you spoke. “And this was the glaringly obvious option. If I’m no longer your employee, then it’s no longer a scandal. Or, well, at least it’s not as much of a scandal. Don’t get me wrong, it will probably still be big news when this comes out but you know… a little less shady.” You giggled at that and he smiled reluctantly at the sound.
“But you love your work,” he argued, leaning a little closer to you as he returned to frowning. “You said it yourself, this position is important to you. I do not want you to feel as though you have to do this, or that you will be affected in any way professionally because of this.” You already began shaking your head halfway through his speech, caressing his cheek with your thumb.
“Yeah, it’s important, and I do love my work, but I’ll find another job, especially if I have a recommendation letter from the President of Westeros,” you giggled, winking at him as he huffed and shook his head at your antics. “Don’t worry, I’m not feeling pressured or anything of the sort. If you or Dana wanted me to stay on, I could probably still be persuaded into staying. But I don’t mind. I love this job because of you, because it meant I met you and I got to spend time with you. But if leaving this job means I get to keep that, then this job means nothing to me anymore. I’ll do what I love in another place for another employer and I’ll still love it.”
You shrugged as if it was simple, as if what you said was not life-altering. Baelor cupped your face between his hands and looked you right in the eyes. He did not say anything for a few moments, just stared.
“Are you sure about this? This is a big decision, an important one.” But you just smiled and nodded, pecking him teasingly on the chin.
“Like I said before, a recommendation letter from the President will literally get me a job anywhere.” Baelor laughed and leaned in close, rubbing his nose softly against yours.
“You’ve twisted my arm,” he joked, “so you may have the letter.”
And he kissed you properly as you burst into laughter.
Three months later…
“Bubs, can you do my shoe clasp thing? You know I can never get it,” you sighed frustratedly, sitting on the edge of the bed with a pout.
Baelor was standing just within the walk-in, fixing his bowtie in the mirror. He smirked a little at the reflection, leaning out to seek you out with his eyes. He found you fiddling with your necklace, and then pressing your earrings closed a little tighter. He checked the bowtie one final time before walking around and coming to stand in front of you.
Your hair was styled prettily, and he pushed some of it back off your face so he could lean down and press the barest kiss to your mouth. He was wary of ruining your makeup, not wishing to hear a repeat of the berating you had given him the last time he had carelessly kissed you before you went out to dinner with your friends.
“You look lovely,” he told you quietly, kneeling down in front of you as you smiled softly and offered him one of your feet.
You were wearing a pretty gown, silky and red with a sweetheart neckline and a sweeping skirt that you pulled up so he could see your shoes. He held you so gently, did up the little buckle on your heel, and then pressed kisses up your shin until you were giggling and swatting at his shoulder.
“Focus, Mr President! We can’t be late for this.” He nodded in agreement, quickly doing up the buckle on your other shoe, but offering that shin the same treatment anyway.
“It’s alright to be nervous,” he told you calmly, rubbing your bare shoulders as you stood up and smoothed out the skirt of your gown. You looked at his reflection in the vanity mirror in front of you and he saw the anxiety in your eyes, the barest pout touching your mouth.
“I just want it to go well,” you whispered, turning around and draping your arms over his shoulders. He grasped you at the waist and dragged you close to him, gently kissing your lips until your eyes softened and you looked a little more settled.
“It will go well. You and I will show our faces, greet whoever wishes to be greeted, have a lovely turn on the dancefloor, and then come tomorrow, we will be on a flight to Sunspear and enjoy a week of sun, sand, and sex.”
You burst into sharp laughter at that, swatting him on the chest as he shot you a mischievous smirk.
“At least your age hasn’t dulled your… appetite,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him as he leaned back and scoffed. “Wow, that was aimed rather low, darling,” he grunted, leaning in and kissing you again.
“Mmh, sorry,” you apologised, though there was no sincerity behind it. “Mm! Ok, let’s go, come on, I’m ready.”
He rubbed a hand along your spine, and nodded, but you quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back. You took the pack of makeup wipes from the vanity and used one to rub across his lips until there were no little specks of red lipstick left there. You checked your own in the mirror, marvelling at how well it stayed in place, then allowed Baelor to lead you out of the room and to the gala.
The pictures from the event came out stunning. You were, funnily enough, the picture of poised, graceful, the perfect addition to Baelor’s side. You did not hang off his arm as if you were some insecure addition, but stood straight beside him, only one gentle hand on his arm at times.
The social media agent responsible for posting about the event, the wonderful graduate who had taken your job, made sure to choose at least a few where you could see how lovingly Baelor gazed upon you (even when you didn’t notice).
Of course the internet responded, because there was always a response for everything, and you had a lovely time scrolling through the more positive comments late one evening:
Bruh, not our President bagging a bad bitch, like ok sirrrrr
Hot President, Hot First Lady, Westeros really out here winning
Never thought about the President dating, but now I’m genuinely wondering how that even worked. Like, how did he even get with her?
Not my uncle getting a girlfriend before me… (his nephew Daeron jokingly on his instagram story)
Who gonna start adding her to the thirst edits first??
And your personal favourite tweet:
Wait, isn’t that the girl from the TikTok who said she was just his PR worker??
Taglist: @mxxny-lupin, @risefallrise, @wooceanic, @sem-ra, @ghostlybfgf, @snitchesgetnobitches, @dododix, @gaminggirlsstuff, @dramioneforevertilltheend, @qardasngan, @neoono, @athenannann, @fraaiefreule91, @ninimochilover, @samthegreenapologist
Image management is trying to control how you are perceived by others rather than genuinely relating to them and it gradually erodes relationships. Image management replaces authenticity with performance and connection with control. it’s especially damaging in parent–child dynamics.
When a parent is invested in being seen as “good,” selfless, or in control, interactions get filtered through that identity. The focus shifts from the child’s needs to how things look. the relationship becomes about maintaining a narrative rather than understanding each other. Honesty becomes a threat (especially a child’s negative feelings) so it’s often dismissed or reshaped. The child learns that truth is only acceptable if it aligns with the parent’s version of reality and begins to self-edit or withdraw.
Over time, the parent stops relating to the child as they are and instead to who they need the child to be. The child adapts by becoming compliant, performative, or emotionally guarded. What remains may look functional, but it lacks real connection.
Accountability also breaks down; admitting fault threatens the image, so conflict isn’t resolved and repair doesn’t truly happen. These fractures accumulate.
As the child begins to differentiate, normal independence can be treated as rejection. Guilt or pressure may be used to pull them back into alignment.
Eventually this leads to distance, not always full estrangement, but a quieter disconnection where conversations stay surface-level and honesty is avoided. Contact is often maintained out of obligation rather than closeness.
The outcome for the emotionally immature person can be bleak. As roles and structures fall away, relationships that once seemed intact don’t deepen; they fade. They don’t connect this to their own patterns, instead experiencing the distance as something that happened to them. Bitterness can follow, especially when a long-held identity of“I did everything right” remains intact while insight is avoided.
Relationships require honesty and flexibility; image management requires control and consistency. Image management and genuine connection are opposites. Over time they can’t coexist.
Image management doesn’t just strain relationships; it replaces them. The cost isn’t always obvious early on, but it often becomes clear later - distance, disconnection, and a loneliness that feels unexplained to the one who spent years maintaining the image.
Firmware Encoded Disarmament: Authorised Interface
FirmwareHe addressed us tieless.A gesture of inclusion.The suit retained command.His firmware did not update.EncodedFormal restraint retired early.Collar integrity relaxed.Substance remainedfully encoded.DisarmamentHe arrived tieless,ceremonial neck disarmament.His suit retained authority.Only the symbol stood down.AuthorisedFor outreach,strategic collar relaxationwas authorised.The shoulders did…