Aegon hears the upset in his half-sister’s tone, but ultimately, the newly legitimized Targaryen Lord knows this is not sadness caused by his hand or action. He knows that the dejection in her tone and gaze is due to another. Myrcella Hightower feels strongly about her only surviving child – but the strings of motherly love have become a noose of control, tethered tightly, afraid to let go. Jaehaenya and her mother are night and day - differ in everything they possibly could. The Princess is more like their father, more Targaryen than anything. Her moonlight pale hair, her purple gaze --- only a trace of Myrcella exists in her daughter.
“You do not wish to see me?” He raises an eyebrow, watching the Princess turn to stare into the flames of flickering bedroom candles.
“...No. I always wish to see you, Aegon,” There’s a sigh to her voice, an air of exasperation, “but when I do, it always comes with words from my mother.”
Ah yes, for who could forget the Hightower Queen, tongue as sharp as a seven pointed star. Somedays, Aegon wishes she was locked in the Hightower itself – that woman was every bit as green with envy as the wildfire beacon in Oldtown calling for war; jealous of his mother, jealous of him. Perhaps even jealous of her only child, but he knows that if Jaehaenya had been born a boy, the woman would not be so wildly insecure. But all boys bore of that suffocating union have perished in childbirth, and the only survivor from the cradle to now, is that of the Princess.
“Your mother is an opinionated hag.” He mutters, feeling irritated at Myrcella’s constant whining and interference.
“Aegon. My mother does not understand.” Jaehaenya squeezes his arm. She has pity for the woman - something the young Lord does not.
“Your mother doesn’t understand love, Jaehaenya. It is the one thing in this world she desperately craves but will never know because she chose a kingdom and a crown over loyalty, and in return receives none, not from her husband nor her subjects. Nor does she deserve it from you, either.” Truth is the most potent of poisons, cutting deeper than any sword. Aegon tilts his head a fraction, but Jaehaenya still does not face him, staring into the candles, staring down into the small flames that dance in place, wax spilling down chalky columns. “Your mother holds tight to you because you are the only way she can live her deluded fantasy of the perfect marriage. I threaten that. She has hated my mother long before you or I were even born. She does not know what it is to have another that matches their soul perfectly. She is jealous of our father and my mother. And she is jealous of you and I.”
“Our grandfather tried to turn this bloodline away from tradition -” She begins, but Aegon grabs his sister's arms, turning her fully, forcing her to turn to look at him, taking her hands. Their eyes, the same shade of startling amethyst, glow and shimmer. That is the bloodmagic that flows like ichor, the fire and blood that binds them.
“Our grandfather was a fucking idiot. Jaehaerys III was a hypocrite. I spat on his funeral pyre. You and I are two halves of a whole, regardless of our suitors or flings. I have never scorned you for taking a lover, nor have you ever scorned me, because we were told it was no longer to be. But in our hearts we burn as one. We share dragons blood. And it is this blood bound that will stop Seven Kingdoms ripping down the centre when father dies. Our marriage is necessary, now that our father has legitimised me.”
“My mother would never allow it — “ She can feel herself stammering the words, cut off by Aegon’s persistence.
“I don't care for your mother or whatever it is she thinks you want. No other man you marry is going to consider your rule."
Her rule? His words catch the Princess of Dragonstone off guard, pupils widening from sheer surprise. “You would ... you would let me rule?”
Aegon turns, cupping Jaehaenya's face. “Of course. We would be one. Your word would be mine. The Lords of Westeros know you are the only one of father's children born in union. The rest, myself included, regardless of legitimisation, are not held so favourably. Some of us have spent time in court, but ...others, would not know the first thing of what it is to control nine regions... I would be at your side, not above you.”
“You speak of Leowyn?" The Princess murmurs the name of their most known brother, a bastard of the surname Hill, conceived just before Aegon, but born after. Late to everything in life, including being granted gifts and consideration. She knows this has made the man bitter. Wicked. He has always wanted a dragon of his own, but only Aegon was offered the opportunity by their father. Jaehaenya's hatched in the cradle with her.
“Yes, Leowyn. But not just our bastard siblings, think of our cousins, like Lady Saera. All legitimate Targaryens in our generation are women, Jaehaenya. Your uncles have also only been given daughters. Do you not think that this is the Gods telling us something? This is the Lords way. I prefer our way, Valyrian tradition. Have we not obeyed Westerosi tradition for centuries now?”
“Perhaps… but most men will sooner choose a bastard over a woman. You know that. And this could just as much amount to war as save us from it." Many would have plenty to say of their union, she thinks. Many would seize any opportunity to turn her and her brother against one another.
"You needn't fret for war. Should war come knocking, I will be the one who answers." There is confidence and strength in Aegon's tone --- he is a well versed warrior, unafraid of battle. He's cut down plenty of lives, murdered so many men the tides turned red with crimson during his battle to reclaim the Stepstones. "If our father commands this union, Jaehaenya, it is treason for any of his subjects to go against him."
"But if he does not crown us before his death...Viserys II made a similar mistake with succession. The realm soon plunged into chaos after the Stranger took him, because he did not crown Rhaenerya, and Aegon II was crowned instead. I am frightened the same will happen again, if we are not careful. We will enrage the Lords my mother has spoken to, those who would consider another more suitable ---"
"You know history. But so do I. Viserys II picked his scheming cunt of a second wife. Our father had no choice in marrying your mother. He will make this right. And if memory is serving me correctly...Hightowers are always causing problems. "
The Princess laughs softly at his words. Opinion, not fact. He cannot tarnish all under the same brush, no matter how strongly he feels about her mother. "I am half Hightower, Aegon."
"I barely notice. There is hardly a glimpse of Oldtown wildfire in you, truth be told. You are the blood of the dragon. So be a dragon. Do not fear what others will say for our union or your rule, Jaehaenya. We are descended from Old Valyria, dragon dreamers who survived the Doom. We sit closer to the Gods than anyone. And if the Gods have decided it is time for a woman's rule, who is man to defy them?"
Previous / Next
two in one day because i have no self control and all this cleaning and dismantling furniture is lowkey sending me crazy
The Queen Rhaenys was famous for her court parties and entertainment. Her weapons were of political alliances and enjoyment, make those unease with the dragons loose themselves in the parties and licor and leave them vulnerable for whatever desire they wanted. The Queen drew attention to herself, a valyrian beauty whose courtly loving attention drew women and men alike to her side.
But at times, when the King grew jealous of the attention his wife would get, he would join her in her games and parties. Everyone knew, of course, and once the room was locked, they envolved themselves in the same passion that coursed on their bodies like the fire and blood of their house. Rhaenys would let him watch first, the attention she was given only fueling the later passion they both desired. No order would be given when the room stopped at the vision of the king doning a mask that matched her own. It is said the sounds echoed through the night at the fort.
@valyrianbled asked: “Last night changed something—whether we admit it or not.” // from velaena to rhaenerys
Rhaenerys likes it being just the two of them. Lying in the bed like all those long nights where they'd sneak to share a bed whispering late into the night. It always felt worth the trouble they got in because it was their time alone. No mother breathing down their neck or father ignoring their sheer existence. Only them because when so much was against them they had each other and that was all that mattered.
She reaches out to take Velaena's hand. "Do you know how rare we are? Three of us. Born together healthy and growing up together." Their mother saw them as a curse. She would never say it but she thought all three a burden. It simply could not be so true. Not when they all loved each other this much. Not when they contributed so much to their house and family.
"We are linked. Three bodies and one soul. We are meant to stay together... to be a pair. We are Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys." She reaches out to brush hair from Velaena's face. She smiles at her. "Last night only opened everyone's eyes to that truth. Last night was important, Velaena."
@carnagebled asked: "when was the last time you slept?" alicent to rhaenerys
Rhaenerys had tried her hardest not to yawn she only had this dinner to get through then she could rest. Her nights had been plagued with Aemond as of late. It was not bad in fact she enjoyed their time together. Late nights distracted from the harsh realities of this war soothed any anxieties she had. It also meant she was getting no sleep and her mother seemed to be catching onto that.
Maybe tonight she should skip going to Aemond's room...
Then again he looks so pitiful there in her arms, desperate for comfort for love. She can never say no to him so maybe she would try to find times to rest during the day. She is debating the right timing when she remembers her mother is right there. She pushes her food around a bit before taking in small breath. "In truth... I cannot sleep. I try but I toss and turn worrying about everything." She sets down her utensil taking in a breath. "I fear this is not polite dinner discussion I... I apologize. Perhaps I can retire to my room and try to rest?"
I will also point out that while no targcest is written here, it is mention. and a lot. viserys does think he is entitled to have dany as his future wife as the tradition of his house, moreover with how his mind was filled by those around him.
ROYAL ROMANCE AND SPICE PART TWO.
@firebloodicee asked:
What I want… the only thing I want has always been you. { From Aemond for Halaena }
Helaena's violet eyes shifted from the needle point she was working on. Her daughter was in the corner of the room playing with her toys. Her son was at one of his lessons.
Aemond was here to visit her. He stood closer to her than others normally would. His hand brushed her silver locks back from her face and whispered what he wanted.
Her.
Helaena reached for his hand and pressed her lips to the tips gently. "I understand, but we know who is my King and My husband. I must be faithful to him." Even when her own husband would take her maids to their marriage bed. Yes, it was not her maids fault… He couldn't be satisfied by her. "Aemond… Please don't go where they are going to send you. Don't go to Stom's End."
IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, but even then, he finds it a surprise when it's Helaena that tends to him. A mere miscommunication where he had lost his temper, quick to shield her from a hand teaching out that she did not want to take. It was a quick slip of a ring catching on his skin, yet it had cut, and he had bled down the side of his face. It seemed as though they were more regretful of hurting him than attempting to lay a hand on Helaena, but he made them apologize to her nonetheless. How dare they think they are allowed to her, her presence, to feel her body or skin.
He's quiet for awhile, watches her intently. It's not often that he takes the time to observe her like this, let his eyes sweep over her face, her nimble hands. She is beautiful, he won't deny that. He's lucky that even though he was chosen to do this duty, he could look upon his wife and not regret it. It's been some time since he's seen her smile but he remembers what it looks like. He hates to admit it makes him smile too. Sometimes it's fleeting, either directed at him or something else entirely, but it warms him from the inside. It's why he had grown so jealous when Jace asked her to dance, her smile wider than he had ever seen before near him. He's never made her smile like that.
His thumb and forefinger gently takes her wrist, rubbing a singular circle into the flesh there before moving it towards him. He'll protect her, protect what is his. His lips are feather-light and chaste, right against where his thumb had been. He wants to jest, how they could not defeat him. The words he longs to tell her lays low in his throat, unable to come out.
I'll always keep you safe.
"Thank you."
send 🛑 to clean blood off of my muse after they protected yours.
