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The princess and the Red Dress 2 - AKOTSK - AU!(Reworked/Reimagined!!!)

TW;Drinking,Staring contest between wildfire boy and reader (is that a warning lol) Attention hungry Aerion?, nothing else really!

Summary; Baelor’s daughter was brought to court, leaving Summerhall and her cousins behind. On her way to Ashford, she was reminded that the realm remained shadowed by the Blackfyres. Neither black dragons nor red ones forget. Some only wait for their turn again.

AU: Baelor has a daughter (instead of Matarys), Baelor does not die, Blackfyre rebellion is still thriving, Daeron x cousin/ Aerion x cousin (implied), Aerion is obsessed with her, Daeron is in love with her //Currently considering/Under thought -> The Spring Sickness //

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Chapter 2

The feast had started soon after, and loud cheers and conversations travelled through the crowd.

The Targaryen family occupied the high table, as expected. Wine flowed, and food was served by the time Valarr finally entered and took his seat next to his sister.

“Sister, you made it.” He said cheerfully, the adrenaline from the earlier joust still present in him.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it!” She replied with a smile, giving her brother her full attention. Once seated and the eyes were off them — or so they thought, Valarr leaned in slightly.

“Father told me what befell you on the road to Ashford.” Whispering just between them. The princess’s smile faded in an instant.

“Of course he did.” She filled her cup again. Valarr noticed it — the slight shaking in her hands while pouring the wine.

The urge to look after his sister came fast. “Are you alright?” And then even quieter. “Did they hurt you?”

“I am fine, brother.” The princess replied quickly. “As you can see, I made it here just fine.” But she kept her gaze away.

He would have known, had she met his eyes.

Where her cousin had been concerned, he already knew.

Aerion rested his back against the chair, watching her intently. Listening to their exchange from the moment Valarr entered.

One arm resting across the table, he caught every word between the siblings. He took note of the way she dodged the question. Never fully answering her brother when he had asked her if she had been hurt. Everything he had witnessed tonight already told him plenty.

Her hand reached for the wine —again — pouring cup after cup as if she was desperate to dull something. Valarr spoke to her once more, nudging her arm in jest. She flashed him a small smile and chuckled before forcing it down just as fast — as if it pained her to do so.

She was in pain. Those bastards hadn’t simply scared her — they harmed her. The heat inside Aerion boiled hotter. He had to know the full extent of it. The prince knew then that the need to find out what his cousin was hiding would remain within him for the rest of the night.

Valarr finally turned his attention away from his sister.

The princess watched her brother begin to eat, thankful he did not push her further.

She lifted her goblet to her lips once more, in an attempt to mask the shaking in her fingers. The room had been too bright, and the men around her too loud. Steadying herself, her eyes scanned the table before landing on Aerion for the second time that evening. He had seated himself two seats down, across from her, and he was once again staring. The same as always, his eyes on her, looking like they were trying to read a scroll in a forgotten language. It made her uncomfortable, and yet this time she did not rush to look away.

It was the first time she truly saw him that night. A full year away from her cousins — from him. Although still smaller than Daeron, he had grown slightly taller — perhaps finally taller than her. The moment stretched as they continued to look at each other across the table. His deep violet eyes held an uncomfortable familiarity. They reminded her of a laughter that had never been kind. Making jokes, laughing, and teasing her about various things — like not having the silver Targaryen hair. On multiple occasions, he had called her ‘Too normal’, or ‘Too plain’ to be the heir’s daughter.

She remembered that as children, whenever Daeron played the father, and she the mother, Aerion always found a way to ruin it. Every time she had felt humiliated by him. His brothers had been so kind compared to him.

The thought about Daeron had suddenly jarred her back to the feast, to the table, and she remembered something. Finally blinking away, the princess slid her gaze towards her uncle, who was conveniently sitting right next to Aerion.

“Uncle.” She spoke, and the table shushed. It was the first time she wished to speak on her own accord that night, and all eyes flicked to her direction.

Her uncle placed his fork down with curiosity. “Yes?”

All conversation around them had now halted, her father’s included.

“Where are Daeron and Aegon? Father said you would all be leaving Summerhall together.”

As soon as she had asked, the princess felt the tension around the room rise. Uncle Maekar’s jaw had tensed, and she did not know why.

“We did. Unfortunately, they managed to slip away from me on the way here.” Her uncle had looked away, annoyed.

The words landed, the explanation clear. Judging by everyone’s faces, they had probably expected her to be worried. Instead, Baelor’s daughter laughed, rather amused at the situation. From the middle of the table, Baelor flashed his daughter a look as an attempt to warn her, but she only smiled wider.

“Well, of course they did. Daeron was never cut out to be a knight, you know that. Shouldn’t have forced him to attend this tourney.” Her laughter slowly faded as Maekar exchanged glances with his brother across the table.

Both recalled the discussion they had after arriving at Ashford.

Baelor himself, having said a similar thing to his brother about Daeron. The statement had been almost word-for-word as it spilt from the princess’s lips. It made both brothers uneasy.

Maekar was smart and, in an instant, knew how to capitalise on the situation.

“Tell me, niece. You had always been close to Aegon and even closer to Daeron.” Maekar watched her as the girl’s eyes lifted from her cup and landed on him. “Where do you think they might have gone?”

Baelor’s daughter tightened her grip on the goblet.

Her brother Valarr, sitting beside her, noticed the shift in his sister in an instant. The way her eyes had betrayed her, and had frozen at the mention of it.

He himself already knew, of course, about the lingering feelings that had been building between his sister and their elder cousin Daeron through the years. In fact, Valarr was almost certain the entire castle of Summerhall had also been aware of it. The prospect of wedding them was more than obvious; it was expected. Yet their father had never brought it up.

He glanced towards Baelor for a moment. It was not that he did not know about their affections. Valarr concluded his father purposely chose not to acknowledge it altogether. His eyes returned to his sister.

The princess shuffled herself further back into her seat as she answered. “Knowing Daeron, probably hiding out in some inn or tavern until the tourney is over. He’d most likely forced Egg with him.” She spoke plainly as if the most obvious thing in the world.

Their uncle nodded slowly in agreement. “Yes, that had been my guess as well. I will be heading out tomorrow to search for them in the hopes of bringing them back here unharmed.”

Valarr watched his sister trace the rim of her goblet with her finger absent-mindedly, almost as if the talk of Egg and Daeron had brought her into deep thought.

During the brief exchange between his cousin and his father, Aerion’s gaze remained on her while he indulged in his own goblet.

It had stung him when Baelor’s daughter asked about his brothers. Aerion would never admit it of course.

The princess had always been close to his siblings, too close for his liking. He had hated the attention she would give them back then, just as much as he hated it now.

Maekar’s second son had never known how to communicate with the princess. Perhaps unaware of what he truly wished to communicate. So he observed, studied, tested, and eventually Aerion learned the only thing his cousin responded to — when it came to him — was violence. In that short moment, when he managed to flare up her anger, her awareness belonged to him.

The absence of the princess’s eyes drove him mad. ‘Look at me.’ He wished to yell across the table. Did she know what she was doing? ‘Look at me just as you had earlier, only me.’ Or was his cousin completely oblivious of the simmering prince staring daggers at her — about his intentions, his feelings. He wanted to grab her, to force her gaze on his hungry one. He didn’t. Instead, he did what he knew how to do best: provoke.

“Or they might be dead.” His voice came out cold and with a horrid indifference to the statement. He cared little about it. About what others thought of him — his father included, as he dismissed the disgusted look Maekar gave him. All he cared about was her. And it had worked — just as it had always, the intention behind the vile comment.

Her gaze snapped fast on him once again. ‘Yes, there it is. You can think of Daeron, but look at me.’ All of it — to make her look. And she had. It had been easier that way — he found — to take her recognition by force, by cruelty if he knew it would belong to him alone.

Beside him, Maekar had roared with anger. “Aerion! Do not speak of such things!”

Aerion held his eyes on her as a small smirk formed on his lips — a small victory. Obviously disgusted by the comment, he watched her shake her head in disbelief at his audacity. The action only forced his smile to widen — he revelled in it — her anger and even more at how easily he could bring it out of her at the mention of his eldest brother. Aerion took a sip from his wine before he spoke again.

“I am only saying, if Daeron were here, he’d only bring shame to our house.”

He had done it, thrown fuel to the fire he himself started.

Aerion’s words had crossed an invisible line.

The princess lifted her own cup to her lips, mimicking her cousin, only to then bring the goblet down hard on the table. Red spilt over the rim across her hand and dripped on the wooden table. The loud sound forced everyone into silence once again, watching as the tension unfolded between the young dragons.

Her own smile came after. A challenge that perhaps surprised the young prince as he blinked in anticipation at the sight.

She, too, knew this game. Aerion had been forcing her to play it for years. He’d push her, she’d react, and he would always get what he wanted. Tonight, she knew, she had him in her grasp. Her cousin would often seek her presence, following her around and pretending he wasn’t when confronted. They had been kids back then, yet his actions had remained the same as he came out of boyhood. Aerion wanted someone to match him. The only way to put a dragon in his place is with another dragon. And she knew long ago that the only other dragon capable of taming him would be her.

Pain flooded the girl as soon as she had slammed her arm down on the table. It came fast, almost as sharp as her next words.

“You already did that yourself from the moment you were born, cousin.” Valarr choked on his bread beside her, and someone down the table cleared their throat.

The princess did not need to look away from Aerion to notice her father and uncle exchanging glances at the hostility between their children. She was the one smirking at her cousin now in a taunting manner. Her father opened his mouth, probably ready to give an order for them to put this to rest — it was not needed.

Despite all the wine, the ache under her clothes had fully returned, and she took the sensation as an indication that the night had run longer than she had hoped. She had to leave.

“If you would pardon me, I am rather tired tonight. I will see you on the morrow.” She forced herself off the chair, brown eyes sliding away from violet.

The staring contest between Baelor’s daughter and Maekar’s son had come to an abrupt end. Something that perhaps made everyone present at the dinner table exhale in relief.

The princess shuffled the chair back into place and patted her brother on the shoulder. Arms behind her back, shoulders straight, she interlaced her fingers and took her leave.

The men watched her blend into the crowd still present inside the hall and eventually disappear completely behind the stone walls.

Prince Valarr turned his head towards his father, concerned. “Is she alright?” Even if he had quite enjoyed his sister putting their cousin in his place, it had been obvious she was not herself tonight.

Baelor glanced towards his son once before returning to his supper. “What do you think?” The answer — now a question of its own — was distant and yet Baelor did not attempt to hide his worry.

The question remained hanging between the Targaryen family.

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Intro page!

I’m Star or Starrie (Asher) I like Art, music and gaming, and animations!

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