— THE DRAGON'S COURTSHIP
PAIRING — Prince Aerion Targaryen x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC
SUMMARY — Prince Maekar agrees to take his sons to a tournament in Highgarden under one condition – Prince Aerion must finally ask Lady Tyrell to marry him. The problem is that she doesn't believe he is fit for any sort of romantic relationship and takes his courtship for a cruel game.
REQUEST — (1)
AUTHOR’S NOTE — I felt like this Reader was asking to be a Tyrell but of course her looks are not described. We don't even know how the Tyrells looked like at that time because they were not on the show. Basically, Aerion is in love and confused by it, meanwhile his family is sick of him. 🤭 I tried to balance his canon madness with a bit of ooc softness for Lady Tyrell. This gif is how I imagine him looking when he's rejected lmao
WORD COUNT — 5,770
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
THE DRAGON'S COURTSHIP
The dinner was rather quiet at Summerhall since the girls were gone to spend time at The Red Keep with their cousins Valarr and Matarys. Of course they didn’t care for that – they wanted to spend a few weeks in King’s Landing. Their cousins were only an excuse but Maekar knew about it very well.
Now he was left alone with his three sons since Aemon was away as well. The silence was becoming awkward, so he cleared his throat.
“I received an invitation to Highgarden,” he explained. “Some tourney Lord Tyrell wishes to see us at. I don’t plan on going, though,” he winced a little. “It’s too far away and Tyrells bore me to fucking death.”
“Good,” Daeron mumbled. He got sick just thinking of a tourney he’d have to participate in.
“Please, can we go?” Aegon’s squeaky voice pleaded. He loved to watch the knights and jousts. “Please, father…?”
Maekar sighed. When his youngest son was asking so sweetly, he had to at least reconsider it.
“I would like to go, too,” Aerion’s eyes were sparkling but he was trying to play it cool and not to show how excited he was getting. “Let me show those gentle Highgarden boys how real dragons fight,” he smirked. “I can even take Egg as my squire.”
“Brother,” Daeron snorted into his goblet of wine. “We all know why you want to go there.”
Aegon giggled and Aerion clenched his jaw, angrily. He hated how obvious it seemed that he had a crush on a certain Lady. He considered it to be a weakness and he didn’t want other people to know about it.
“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell?” Maekar raised an eyebrow. “You still think about her?” He asked his son.
“No!” Aerion answered quickly, making his brothers laugh.
“Is this why you still have the handkerchief you stole from her?” Aegon asked.
“And is this why I caught you sniffing it?” Daeron’s eyes lit up with amusement.
“I did not… sniff it,” Aerion protested, feeling his father’s burning gaze on him.
“I do not wish to know what you were doing with that handkerchief,” Maekar closed his eyes for a moment to sigh. “In fact, I do not wish to even think of it.”
“I don’t know what you all are talking about,” Aerion mumbled and focused on his food to avoid everyone’s gaze.
Maekar took a deep breath as he remembered the day Lord Tyrell had asked to stay for a night at Summerhall on his way to Dorne. His eldest daughter, Lady (Y/N), had been with him but she had been feeling ill. She had spent her father’s whole visit to Dorne at Summerhall instead of going with him down South. During those few weeks, Aerion had seemed to be a different man. Maekar had never seen him so… trying. Trying to be a better version of himself that would impress a Lady.
And the Lady was no ordinary woman either. Maekar remembered her moods, her laughter, her capability to call Aerion stupid or proud or irrational. And each time the young prince had been getting angry, she would smile at him and flutter her eyelashes, which had seemed to solve it all.
Maekar realised that a woman like her could be good for his son. Instead of laughing at his infatuation, perhaps he should… encourage it.
“We will go to Highgarden,” he started and Daeron groaned. “Not you,” he looked at his eldest son. “You can stay here and watch over Summerhall once we’re gone.”
“Thank you, father,” Daeron nodded.
“We will go to Highgarden… if…,” Maekar laid his eyes on Aerion. His second eldest son raised his eyes to look at him. “If you ask for her hand in marriage once we’re there.”
A short silence occurred. Aegon’s giggle broke it eventually. Daeron kept staring at his father and brother with disbelief. Meanwhile, Aerion felt a bit uncomfortable with the thought. It seemed pretty final… Not that he minded it but he would have to expose himself enough to get hurt.
His ego was not ready to get hurt.
“What if she is betrothed already? It was six months ago, she could have secured a match since then,” he pointed out.
“Would a betrothed be a challenge for you, brother?” Daeron chuckled. “You can duel him and win easily. Are you not a dragon?” He teased.
Aerion smirked at that. His foolish, drunkard brother was right. He was a dragon. And a dragon had the right to take whatever he wanted.
When you found out that Prince Maekar would arrive at the tournament with Prince Aerion and Prince Aegon, your old feelings resurfaced, causing confusion within you.
You missed them – you missed them all. You remembered your weeks spent at Summerhall extremely fondly. Especially Prince Aerion.
You liked his mad Targaryen eyes, his pretty silver hair, the way he would lick his lips, the way his body moved when he trained with the sword. You liked to tease him and call him out whenever he acted awfully. But truth to be told, his arrogance spurred you on in a way; it made your cheeks hot and your heart to pick up its pace. He was different from all the men you knew from Highgarden. Bold, unapologetic, obsessive and… dark. That darkness was dangerous but you were not afraid. Many times you had crossed the line but he had never bit you. And that feeling – of standing so close to the dragon who could kill you yet he didn’t even roar at you – that feeling was addictive.
But you also knew that all those feelings you were harbouring for him… They meant nothing. They would change nothing. Prince Aerion Targaryen was not fit for love. You were aware that even if he shared his feelings, your life with him would be a rather dreadful one.
Still, for the day of his family’s arrival, you dolled yourself up in a pretty green dress and yellow roses in your hair. Standing by your mother’s side, you greeted everyone with the same smile but when your eyes locked with his, goosebumps appeared on your skin nearly immediately.
“Mother… This is Prince Aerion who kept me company during my time at Summerhall,” you introduced him.
Your mother was not impressed by the young man. She bowed at him out of courtesy and moved on to another person as if she could feel what kind of person he was. And your mother always knew how to read people. Her reaction was not a good sign.
When he walked away, you could feel his eyes on you. His burning gaze on your back like a dragonbreath.
There was a welcoming feast for the noblemen taking part in the tournament on the evening before the first day. Since you were the eldest daughter of Lord Tyrell who organised the whole thing, many knights asked you to grant them your favour on the next day. Like a skilled seductress you were, you told each single one of them that you would consider their request but they would find out on the next day who would become your champion for the tournament.
“Ser Seamus Mormont is quite interesting,” your younger sister Flora said to you when you were standing by the table with the snacks and gossiping.
“What makes you think so? He’s rather… raw looking,” you pointed out.
“That is exactly why. Men up North are different than here. I like it,” she admitted.
“The Mormonts are not very rich, dear sister. He would not provide you with a lavish life,” you reminded her with a laugh and she rolled her eyes.
Both of you hoped for a match out of love but you also were aware of the practicalities of life.
“If I were you, I’d give your favour to the Lannister knight then,” she winked at you.
“He is his father’s sixth son,” you sighed, annoyed. He was handsome indeed but he was not important.
“It is not like you are to marry your champion,” Flora pointed out as she took one of the strawberries covered in chocolate to put it in her mouth.
“Our parents might think so,” you admitted, taking a glance at your father. “They are… beginning to push me to finally start looking for a match,” you admitted. “They might start looking for one on their own soon…”
“Oh, please! Please, do get married, (Y/N)! You know that I will not be allowed to secure a match before you do!” Flora clapped her hands and you rolled your eyes.
However, her playful smile dropped at the sight of someone standing behind you. You couldn’t see the person but you felt their presence. And you could smell them… The familiar scent it was. Metallic and spicy.
“Lady (Y/N),” Aerion’s voice reached your ears and you turned your head around to flutter your eyelashes at him.
“My Prince,” you acknowledged him. “It is good to see you again. How is Summerhall, allow me to ask?”
“It is rather empty ever since you left,” he admitted and you felt your cheeks heating up at those words.
“That is very kind to say,” you fixed your hair with a nervous smile.
“I have my moments,” he smirked. “Will you grant me your favour on the morrow?” He asked nonchalantly.
He had to be aware of the fact he was the last one to ask. Yet, the way he inquired seemed to be so confident.
“I might consider it,” you teased him like the others and he gritted his teeth. Aerion didn’t like being rejected even in the smallest things.
His reaction reminded you why you should be wary of him despite your infatuation.
“She tells it to everyone,” Flora joined the conversation. She was visibly scared of Aerion but she wanted to defend you. You held her by her wrist to thank her and to show her support.
“Why not make the decision today?” Prince Aerion asked.
“What fun would that be?” You asked and he squinted his eyes.
However, he nodded after a while and walked away. Flora sighed with relief.
“This one scares me,” she admitted. “Yet, you have told me so many nice stories about him from your time at Summerhall…”
“He can be charming when needed,” you explained to her. “And there is something about him… Something quite enchanting.”
“Enchanting?” Flora’s eyes widened. “Sister, you must have had too much of the sweet wine.”
You chose Ser Brandon Tully to be your champion.
All the knights were standing side by side on their horses in front of the stands and the box you were sitting in beside your father. You stood up and approached the railway as you hesitated. You looked directly at Prince Aerion, his smirk visible from all that distance. But after a moment, you shifted your gaze and laid your eyes on the Tully knight.
His father’s second son. A nervous young man with a gentle face you found rather handsome. He needed encouragement and support, therefore you chose to give it to him.
You couldn’t know that your green ribbon sentenced him to an uninventable failure.
Prince Aerion Targaryen challenged him as his first opponent. He maimed his horse, caused him to fall off it and then he made sure that his own horse ran over Ser Brandon Tully’s leg. Everyone gasped. Aerion rode away with a satisfied and wicked smile.
After the jousts of the first day, you hurried to the Maester’s chambers to check on Ser Brandon. He had his leg broken but nothing more.
“He had lots of luck,” the Maester told you. “Once his bone heals, he will be able to mount a horse again.”
You breathed with relief as you looked at Ser Brandon with pity. Deep down you knew that it had been your fault. You shouldn’t have rejected a dragon.
“Ser Brandon…” You approached his bed. “I am so sorry that this happened to you…”
“My Lady, I am the one who should be sorry. You chose me to be your champion and I failed,” his wet eyes looked deep into yours as he opened his clutched hand. Inside there was your green ribbon, now all muddy but still in one piece. “Please, take it back. I am not worthy of it.”
“Keep it, Ser Brandon,” you shook your head. “You still have many tourneys ahead of you and you will receive many such ribbons from other ladies,” you added with a smile. “However, this will always be your first and I want you to keep it. I do not regret granting you my favour.”
He blushed and nodded as he mumbled a “thank you”.
You left him in the Maester’s chambers and went back to your own room to prepare for the evening. Your father loved celebrations so each evening would be a feast. The grandest one would happen on the last night but all the evening parties were supposed to leave all the guests impressed.
You went to the gardens to hide there after realising that Aerion Targaryen’s irritated eyes had been following you. Thankfully, the gardens of your castle were big and you knew them better than any other place between its walls. You had practically grown up in those gardens, so you quickly disappeared between the paths to find a place of solitude.
You stood inside a small gazebo surrounded by roses, staring up at the bright moon.
“My Lady,” a familiar voice brought goosebumps onto your skin. You turned around, slowly, a little terrified of the fact that he had been walking behind you all that time. Silently, like a predator hunting his prey. Waiting for the right moment. A dragon; ready to attack.
“Prince Aerion,” you forced a smile.
He stood next to you and for a moment you relaxed. It brought back all the memories from Summerhall. How you two had used to spend lots of time together and nothing bad or improper had ever happened. Why would it happen now then?
“You are avoiding me,” he pointed out as his eyes scanned your profile. You still refused to look right into his face.
“You nearly killed my champion,” you reminded him.
“Barely,” Aerion rolled his eyes. “Besides, you only chose him to spite me,” he chuckled.
“No,” you shook your head and finally looked at him. “I chose him because he was kind.”
A long silence occurred. Aerion’s face seemed to be confused at first, which later turned into embarrassment. But eventually a bit of anger flashed in his eyes. His mood was always as unpredictable as the storm or the sea.
“You should choose your next champion more carefully,” his eyes sparkled with mischief.
It was a threat.
“Is this why you came here? To tell me that?” You asked, pretending to stay calm. You didn’t want him to see how nervous he was making you feel.
“No,” he admitted. “I came here because I made a promise to my father,” he said with all seriousness, looking at you intensely. “He allowed me to join the tournament under one particular condition.”
“Which is…?” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“I have to ask you something… important,” he took a deep breath in.
Were you actually projecting things or was he… stressed?
“What is it, my Prince?” You inquired.
Aerion smirked and scratched the back of his head as he looked down for a moment until he finally looked at you again.
“Ever since you left Summerhall, I find myself unable to forget you,” he whispered. “I don’t know if you bewitched me or put a love potion into my wine but I do not care. I know one thing, though. I shall not rest until you become my wife,” he finished, a slight pink shade coming onto his cheeks.
You were stunned. As much as this confession was rather sweet to you, you knew that Aerion Targaryen was the last person who could actually fall in love.
You laughed and quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Aerion’s jaw clenched and his eyes lost all the softness in an instant.
“Do you find me funny?” He asked.
“No, my Prince, no. It is just that… I am sure you must be jesting,” you explained.
“I am no jester,” he insisted.
“I find it hard to believe that you would fall for me. For anyone, actually,” you said.
“Oh really? And why is that so?” He raised an eyebrow at you.
“It does not suit you, that’s it,” you admitted. “Maybe you think you feel this way but in reality… I cannot imagine you in a happy marriage. And I wish to be happily married,” you explained. “I am honoured, of course, my Prince. But you are not the man I seek nor need.”
“Who would that be?” He asked, trying to hide his anger from you but you could see right through that.
“A patient man. Someone putting up with me,” you explained. “Someone who would adore me. Adore me completely. Someone who would feel grateful to be married to me instead of reminding me every day how lucky I am to be his Lady Wife.”
“I can be all those things,” Aerion claimed.
“I highly doubt that,” you insisted.
“How can you know if you are not willing to give me a chance to prove myself?”
“Oh, you have proven yourself enough earlier today,” you reminded him. “That was enough for me to see you for who you truly are. In fact, it scared me,” you admitted, lowering your voice.
When he heard those words, he took a step back, hurt and confused.
“I… scared you?” He asked. You nodded, carefully. “I only meant to let you know that you belonged to me,” he explained.
“I know. And that scared me,” you said. “I felt hemmed in, trapped.”
Aerion didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t comprehend your way of thinking and viewing this situation. He was sure that he had been courting you the proper way. The dragon way.
“Forgive me, my Prince… They will be looking for me,” you bowed your head and quickly walked away from there to join the rest inside the castle.
On the next day you were scared to give your favour to anyone but your father insisted that you needed a new champion since the one you had chosen couldn’t fight anymore.
You took a deep breath in and looked at the faces of all the men. You couldn’t hurt another one. You simply couldn’t. And they all looked scared, too, knowing what your choice would possibly mean for them.
You clenched your jaw at the realisation you would have to let him win. To save others from a terrible fate, you had to boost his ego.
“Prince Aerion Targaryen,” you cracked a nervous smile at him, “I choose you to be my champion,” you said and allowed your golden ribbon to fall down.
He approached the stands on his horse and gently caught the ribbon as he looked up at you. This time there was no smirk on his face. He nodded his head instead and rode away to attach the ribbon to his armour and wait for the joust.
You still were scared. Now, when he had your favour, there was a big chance that he would want to show off even more and hurt every single one of his opponents.
But he did not.
Instead, he fought fairly on that day. No horse was seriously injured and when the Lannister knight fell off of his stallion and landed in the mud, Prince Aerion offered him his hand to help him stand.
“His father must have scolded him for yesterday,” your father whispered to you.
You nodded but you knew it was not the case. You were sure it was the effect of the argument you had shared in the gazebo on the night before. But you couldn’t understand the game the Prince was playing.
During the evening feast Prince Aerion seemed to give you space. In fact, you couldn’t see him amongst the guests at all. Yet, he remained present in your mind. You wondered why he had chosen to change his behaviour so much on that day.
“Your choice of champion today astonished me, dear sister,” Flora approached you.
“Could you not see that I had to choose him?” You asked her.
“What do you mean?” Flora asked, visibly surprised.
“He would hurt anyone I’d choose over him,” you told her. You thought it was rather obvious.
“Do you really think that was his reason to hurt Ser Brandon?” Flora widened her eyes. “Most people see it differently.”
“What are you talking about?” You inquired.
“Well, they say that Prince Aerion’s brutality from the first day impressed you,” she told you and you felt as if someone smacked you on the face.
“That is horrendous! It is quite the opposite!” You protested.
“Why would he hurt Ser Brandon, though? I can see only one reason for such outrageous behaviour and it seems unlikely,” Flora pointed out.
“What would that be?”
“Love. He would have to be in love with you, (Y/N). But he is not, am I right?” She asked you.
But you didn’t know what to say.
The last day of the tournament was very sunny and beautiful. It was pleasant on the field, too. Prince Aerion was still wearing your ribbon and he remained the most chivalrous. Yet, he was winning duel after duel, making everyone realise that all his usual cheating was probably caused by the fact he loved the adrenaline of it. Not because he actually needed to cheat.
Which only made it worse, to be fair.
Ser Seamus Mormont was his last opponent. From the corner of your eye, you could see your sister digging her fingernails into the chair she was sitting on. Apparently her interest in Ser Seamus hadn’t changed.
He was a fierce warrior and he fought like a real bear. You could see Prince Aerion actually struggling with this one. But he had one advantage – he was smaller and more flexible, whereas Ser Seamus was wide and moved slower, heavier. Once he fell down, he was not able to get up. But he seemed to be fine other than that. Prince Aerion had treated him rather gently. Considering his usual standards.
Your sister gasped at the sight but everyone else stood up to cheer for the champion. You had to do that as well even though you were unsure how to feel about it.
Aerion took his helmet off and smiled at the cheering crowd, showing off his teeth covered in blood from the fight. He enjoyed the victorious feeling and bathed in it.
His younger brother and squire – Prince Aegon – ran up to him holding a wreath made of yellow roses, the symbol of your house. Aerion looked down at his brother and took the wreath from him before he approached the box you were sitting in. The crowd went silent.
“I wish to crown Lady (Y/N) Tyrell… The Queen of Love and Beauty,” he announced, causing your heart to stop for a moment.
You saw it in slow motion. The way he threw the wreath gracefully in your direction but you were too stunned to react. Your father caught it instead and put it onto your head as the crowd went ecstatic with the way they clapped and cheered. Prince Aerion kept staring at you from below, breathing heavily and waiting for your reaction. Any reaction.
“I am honoured, my Prince,” you nodded at him out of courtesy.
Your heart was beating so fast now that you were scared it would jump out of your chest. All your feelings – all those feelings you had been trying to suppress – now they resurfaced and overwhelmed your senses.
“Make sure it is noted in the chronicles that my daughter was crowned,” you heard your father’s voice addressing one of the Maesters. You smiled at that.
Indeed. You had never been crowned that title before. And you doubted you would be again. It was something that would happen once in a lifetime to a lucky Lady and every young girl was dreaming of it.
“Where are you going?” You asked Flora. The sight of her hurrying out of the stands brought you back to reality.
“To check on Ser Seamus,” she told you, her eyes widened and her hands slightly shaking.
“He is fine,” you told her.
“I must see with my own eyes,” she insisted.
“Sister…” You scolded her with a meaningful look.
“Do not judge me!” She exclaimed. “I must!”
She ran away and no one stopped her. Your parents were too busy talking to other people, very content with the fact their eldest daughter was The Queen of Love and Beauty.
So you walked away, too. And your legs brought you to the Targaryen tent where young Prince Aegon was helping his brother out of the armour.
“Be careful, young rascal! If you break it, I’m going to smash your empty head with it!” Aerion scolded his brother over a piece of armour the younger one was struggling to take off.
“It is too heavy for me to carry!” The squeaky voice of Aegon protested.
“Not my fault that you’re so little and skinny,” Aerion answered.
“Ekhem,” you cleared your throat and they stopped the banter to turn around and look at you.
“Lady (Y/N)!” Aegon smiled at the sight of you, dropping a piece he was holding in his hand. It landed on Aerion’s foot as the older brother cursed angrily. Aegon couldn’t care less, though. He ran to you and gave you a hug as you wrapped your arms around him to hug him back. “You look so pretty in your crown!”
“Thank you, my Prince,” you smiled at the boy.
“Leave us alone now,” Aerion snapped at his brother. Aegon sighed and left the tent. “Have I proved myself, my Lady?” He asked you, taking off his armour on own now, visibly irritated with something. Probably you and your previous lack of enthusiasm after being crowned.
“You only proved that you can pretend very well, my Prince,” you pointed out and he clenched his jaw. “Pretend to be honourable and chivalrous. I do not know why, though. What is the gain for you in marrying me?” You asked. It was the question that had been bothering you the most.
“The gain?” Aerion raised his eyebrow at you. “I simply want you for my wife. There is no gain. The only gain is the mere fact you would be by my side.”
“Why me, my Prince?” You asked another question. “Surely, you can have any woman in the Realm. Someone with the blood of Old Valyria on top of that. I remember you mentioned that back at Summerhall. That you would marry one of Targaryens if you ever had to marry at all.”
Aerion blushed when you reminded him of his old words. He regretted ever saying them out loud around you.
“You are the only woman who dares to speak to me this way,” he said and you smirked.
“Do not change the subject, my Prince. Just answer me, please. I am trying to understand you at least a bit.”
“That was the answer,” he explained, approaching you.
It took a moment for you to understand the meaning behind his words. Meanwhile, he stood so close to you that you could see his bright eyes as clear as ever. Like during that one day at Summerhall when he had brought you fishing with him. For some reason he had insisted it would have to be a secret kept from his brothers.
Back then, by the lake, his lips had nearly brushed yours. And now he was just as close.
“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he whispered. “Each time you make me angry… I do not wish to hurt you,” he confessed, raising his hand to gently brush your cheek. “Instead, it makes me want to do things to you that I should not speak of in front of a Lady,” he smirked and your cheeks became hot to touch at his words. “You look beautiful wearing that crown indeed,” he added. “If you become my wife, I shall win every tournament for you and crown you The Queen of Love and Beauty so many times all over Westeros that you will be remembered in all the books and chronicles as the most titled Lady of the Seven Kingdoms,” he lowered his voice, the tip of his nose now brushing yours.
It went lower, to trace your lips, then he moved his nose up again to caress your cheeks with it as if he was a dragon sniffing its prey right before the meal. The metallic smell was even more intense than usual since his mouth was full of dried up blood. You hitched your breath.
“I do not know how else to convince you but do believe me when I say that I want you,” he whispered. “Your body, your flesh… But also your mind if you are willing to offer it.”
Your knees went weak. He was too damn close to reject him. The moment was too intimate and the fact anyone could walk in on you two any given moment was even more exciting. You put your hand on his chest.
“You would have to ask my father first…” You whimpered and Aerion chuckled at that, taking a step back to take a better look at your face.
He fixed the wreath on your head carefully.
“My father asked your father on the first evening,” he admitted.
Your jaw opened slightly, which made Aerion laugh even more.
“Oh?” You managed to let out.
“Lord Tyrell was apparently delighted,” Aerion said. “His daughter marrying a Targaryen Prince…? Of course he agreed.”
You swallowed thickly.
“So… The decision was made anyway?” You took your hand away from his chest. “You gave me an illusion of choice? Played with me like a cat with a mouse?” You asked.
It felt like a punch in your guts. You were heartbroken and even the wreath on your head suddenly felt heavy. You wanted to take it off but your limbs were too numb.
“My rose, don’t be upset,” Aerion realised you felt betrayed as he reached out to caress your cheek but you moved your head away. He tried once more, though, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. “I will be good to you, I promise,” he whispered. “You are the treasure I will protect,” he promised. A hint of desperation in his voice made it very clear that he cared for you to believe him.
You hesitated as your wet eyes looked into his mad ones. Perhaps you should put him to a test.
“And if I would rather die than marry you, my Prince?” You asked, quietly.
Aerion let go of your chin and moved back. He was hurt. In fact, you had never seen him that hurt before.
“If you loathed me so intensely, I would let you go,” he admitted in a whisper. “I do not wish to torment you… Not you.”
You nodded and a silence occurred as you watched him carefully.
“But it is not true, am I right? You do not wish to die at the thought of marrying me?” He cleared his throat, his voice full of insecurity that did not suit him at all.
Yet, it was real. You could hear it.
“No,” you admitted as you shook your head. “Of course not,” you added and he sighed with relief.
Aerion wanted the wedding to happen on the same night, at the feast celebrating the end of the tournament, but your fathers did not agree upon that. Instead, you were sent to Summerhall a month later and you two were wed there. It was a quick wedding either way.
He could not stop smirking at the sight of you when you arrived. He felt smug because he had won you but also because he was so proud to have you by his side.
His sisters loved you ever since your last time at Summerhall – your Highgarden dresses, the way you braided your hair, your fragranced oils and your Tyrell charm. They were more than happy now that you would live with them.
Prince Maekar found you a bit annoying but he didn’t expect anything less – after all you were a woman who wanted to marry his son. You couldn’t be completely normal. And he still remembered all the mischief you had been causing last time you lived with his family. Now you became a part of it but he had to admit you fit in very well.
“I received an invitation to Lannisport,” he announced at the dinner table a few weeks after your marriage to his son. “Some tourney Lord Lannister wishes to see us at. I don’t plan on going, though,” he winced a little. “It’s too far away and Lannisters bore me to fucking death.”
You chuckled at that as you took a sip of your wine. You felt Aerion’s hand on your thigh under the table as he squeezed it.
“I would like to go,” your husband announced and you looked at him, surprised.
“Wait, really? You do not jest, my dear?” You asked.
“Of course not,” he smirked. “I have made you a promise, haven’t I?”
“What promise?” Maekar inquired, rather harshly.
“To crown my wife The Queen of Love and Beauty at every tournament so many times all over Westeros that she will be remembered in all the books and chronicles as the most titled Lady of the Seven Kingdoms,” Aerion said, causing Daeron to choke on wine slightly.
Maekar closed his eyes and sighed as he threw his head back out of irritation.
“Seven Hells…” He muttered under his breath.
“Does this mean we are going to take part in every tournament from now on?” Aegon’s eyes lit up immediately.
“Yes,” Aerion nodded. “But I am not taking you as my squire anymore, you useless–”
Smack!
Your hand on the back of your husband’s head brought an end to his insolence towards his younger brother. His smirk disappeared immediately, too. His sisters giggled at the sight.
“Apparently so,” you smiled at Aegon as you answered his question instead. “And you will be the most wonderful young squire, bringing Aerion wreaths of flowers to crown me with.”
MASTERLIST
