Imagine You Are Aemond And Helaena’s Daughter.
Imagine you are Aemond and Helaena’s daughter.
Warnings: none; fluff all the way; alternative universe where… uh, Rhaenyra and Aegon are actually married and there is no civil war.
***
• Stage One: To Be a Toddler.
You are actually a merry child. One so vivid and full of joy, prompted to mischief. Unusually early, you like to go after your father. In one of these days, you are brought to Vhagar.
“Always restless, my dear Y/N”, says he when lifting you up and holding you on his arms. Aemond smiles in his own way at you, his lingering good eye admiring your chubby faces and wondering how could he have made a child so pure. When you smile back, he melts down completely. “One wonders why.”
“Vhagar”, you say lazily, still smiling.
Aemond chuckles quietly. He ruffles your long silver hair, lingering in his touch on your cheek and pinching it lightly.
“Vhagar, really? You really liked that old hag, didn’t you?”
The one eyed prince does not think there is a more adorable sound than when you burst into childish giggles.
“I love Vhagar. Daddy, she’s so big and… and…”, you grown, hating to forget the word you’ve learned recently.
Seeing how much you aim to please him, Aemond is patient.
“It’s a word uncle Aegon taught me!”, you try to justify yourself.
Aemond’s smile is quickly wiped out of his face. He furrows his eyebrows.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You need not to beg, papa. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
The prince chuckles, but you can tell he’s worried by the look on his face.
“Come now, what did dear uncle Aegon teach you, Y/N?”
“Weeeeell…”
“Y/N…”
You know you should not test longer. Aemond really hopes there is nothing to be anxious about, though.
“He said Vhagar is gross!”, you quickly put both of your chubby hands over your mouth and your eyes go wide. There’s a mix of amusement, mischief and concern altogether as you wait for some snap.
But Aemond is rarely snippy with you. The prince laughs quietly instead, his shoulders relaxing.
“If she is gross, why do you like her?”
Suddenly the prince remembers Helaena, when she loved bugs and other… bugs at a young age. The memory makes him smile fondly.
“Because she is legendary”, you explain as-a-matter-of-factly. “Besides, gross is not necessarily a bad thing. Can we fly now daddy? Pleeeeeease?”
He’s starstruck by your precocious wit. As he agrees to do what you requested, he remembers nostalgically how you came to this world.
***
Helaena always followed Aemond when they were younglings. Somehow the taste for books and studies set the two of them even closer. Before Aemond lost an eye, he came to discover that his dear sister had visions of some kind.
“It is a trait that comes from our ancestors. Magic comes with a price”, she told him then.
“What can I do to relief your burden, Helaena?”
It was when she touched his hand for the very first time. Aemond could recollect how right it felt when their fingers intertwined, hands awkwardly moulded. Sentiments that escaped the common scope looked obvious.
“Your friendship is sufficient, my dear Aem.”
But in due time it proved to be insufficient. Helaena was welcomed in Aemond’s chambers when she had nightmares. These consolations led to discoveries… which resulted in an early pregnancy.
Helaena was no more than six and ten summers; Aemond, five and ten, when you were conceived. Quickly, they married.
And just as quickly they moved to Summerhall.
***
When Aemond takes you to fly Vhagar, the one eyed prince notices you’ve been quiet. He takes a quick look wondering if you’ve fallen asleep, but he’s surprised by how attentive you are.
Y/N has inherited some of me, I see it now. Laena likes to say Y/N has her beauty, but my iron.
As he smiles at the recollection, Aemond asks you:
“What is my dear daughter thinking of?”
“I want to reclaim my dragon, daddy.”
Aemond sighs. Again, he is remembered of Helaena’s vision.
It came actually two months after you were born. His wife was struggling to sleep and this was a sign she was disturbed by something.
“What is it, my love? What is troubling you?”
“I cannot be sure what it is”, she sounded anguished as she took his hand and Aemond tried to remain calm. Helaena had to take her time when visions shook her. “Y/N carries the spirit of our house. She will not be like any other. I cannot be sure what it is. But she must be let to follow her path and reclaim a dragon herself.”
“I assumed she’d sleep with an egg”, it was all Aemond could tell.
“No.”
“You make it sound bad.”
“I do not wish to make her a queen, Aemond. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.”
“A queen?”
But seeing Helaena would say nothing more, Aemond calmed his restlessness and held her close. He knew she needed him by her side, not any of his inquiries.
“We will do the best we can do to raise our little princess. I promise you.”
She looked up at him and smiled.
“I love you, Aemond Targaryen. I could have not chosen a better man to be the father of my children.”
And that was also the day she conceived their second child, a boy nine moons later born, named Maegor.
Back to the moment, Aemond clears his throat and says:
“All in due time, daughter. You must bear patience. Methinks Vhagar would be jealous if she knew you want a dragon for yourself.”
It’s enough to take your mind off the matter. And as if to confirm Aemond’s remark, the old dragon turns her head and gives you a look. You swear she buffed too.
“Oh no, Vhagar! Don’t be jealous! I love you and you’ll always be my favourite!”
That strangely seemed to calm the old hag and Aemond looks pleased it all ended well.
*
Helaena is welcoming her sister Rhaenyra and her family when she spots you running around the castle with six year old Jacaerys. The oldest son of Aegon and his wife is the heir to King Viserys’s throne after Aegon’s own rise to the throne. He is a handsome and very smart young man who seems to have taken a like of you.
“You stare at them”, muses Aemond, who silently puts himself beside his wife. He knows when these visions come and go. But not only that, he is acutely aware how welcoming the whole family party—which will soon be joined by the king and the queen—can be too much for her. “Is there something I should worry about?”
“No”, Helaena gives Aemond a small, but confident smile. She touches his arm discreetly, not too firm nor too weak. It’s a good vision, he understands. “He will make her happy.”
Aemond doesn’t like the idea of seeing you married too soon. Noticing this, she chuckles.
“My husband, you do not expect me to believe that Y/N is going to be a toddler for all her life, do you?”
He sighs, but does not answer. His good eye holds back a shadow of sadness as he sees you running after the curly haired Jacaerys.
***
• Stage Two: To Be A Child.
You have just recently celebrated your ninth name day. Aemond is keeping an eye on you as you are at the beach with a small group of friends, all of whom are your cousins: Jacaerys, Lucerys, Visenya and Baela. They are all talking about dragons.
A topic that, Aemond knows, can be somewhat sensitive to you—and this gives him some shivers. He remembers how his own cousins, Rhaegar and Baelor, sons of Lord Daemon and Lady Laena, mocked him because he didn’t reclaim any dragon. It costed him an eye. And he prayed nothing the same would occur to you.
Aemond is trying not to look very anxious when it’s Helaena who comes for his aid. She had excused from her sister’s adorable company to join her husband’s abrupt exile under the excuse of watching over the children.
But she knows what really troubles him.
“She is not like you. And they are not like them.”
Aemond limits to side eye at his wife.
“Is she…?”
“No.”
“But then…”
Helaena sighs.
“She is your daughter, she has some stubborn traits that you are to blame for”, she smiles. “Give them a chance. They are the next generation.”
“You let her too loose”.
“And you hold her too tight. This is not the way. Believe me, my dear. She will be fine.”
*
A third child came and suddenly your family is one of three. After Maekar, a boy named Jaehaerys has joined Summerhall.
“You must give me a companion, mama”, you pout. Today you are having an embroidery lesson with her. “It is not very fair when Maegor has a companion and I don’t.”
Helaena gives you a loving glance.
“Our family is growing big indeed.” And then she looks fondly at your father.
When you follow her gaze, you smile to yourself. You do sigh over at how devoted Helaena and Aemond are to each other.
This afternoon, Aemond is spending some time with his boys. Maegor being the oldest is trying to show off his best traits to his father, who doesn’t hesitate in appreciating his efforts.
Since it is raining outside, the family gathering is occurring just as fine until Maegor comes to tease you.
“Did you know, dear sister, that my dragon egg has hatched?”
Aemond is rocking baby Jaehaerys when he notices Maegor is not around.
“What about it?”, you pretend to find sewing interesting.
“It’s beautiful, really. It has blue scales.” And then the inevitable happens. “Soon it will grow and I’ll fly with it next to Vhagar. You’ll be left behind and no one will remember you.”
“SHUT UP, YOU STUPID FOOL!”
And to a general surprise, you stand up and slap his face hard. Aemond quickly comes at you, partially shocked—and secretly amused, since he’s been watching the scene from afar—but you escape everyone’s possible snort in tears.
“Maegor”, Helaena sighs as she tends her crying boy. “You shouldn’t have teased your sister.”
Aemond and his wife exchange looks. It’s very fitting that he, after reluctantly giving away his baby to a maid, goes to you.
Unsurprisingly, you are found pacing towards the yard. But something stops you from going out, despite the riot that so violently came upon your chest: it is the sound of those steps you are so familiar with.
“Now now dear Y/Nickname. What has come to fall upon my little princess?”
You run to your father, who is on his knees expecting you to do so. Whenever you felt distressed by something, this was how he welcomed you. Indeed it is a safe haven for you and Aemond knows it.
He sees so much in you and part of him blames himself for sharing this old wound with you.
This shouldn’t be it, Y/N. You’ll never know how I lament this to be it.
“Sing me that song, please.”
Aemond smiles at you. It’s a secret he shares with you. Whilst indeed Daeron is the one more apt to this function, once upon a time Aemond discovered that, thanks to you, singing old poems calmed your fears.
Whatever it takes to make my princess safe.
Choosing a song named Ode to Visenya, here father and daughter forget that time is passing and with it, all that childhood means… at the same time that he proves to be a better father than his own ever were where his infancy was concerned.
After a moment, you two are outdoors, at the yard, watching rain fall.
“You shouldn’t have slapped your brother, Y/N.”
You swear Aemond is smiling, but you don’t take your chances to bet on it.
“I cannot say I regret standing up for me. If I do not do so, then who will?”
So much like her father. Aemond looks at you, a hint of pride in his good eye making you smile and lean against him.
“Regardless, child. You are a princess, you must know when it is time to wage wars.”
“Does this mean I can be taught sword lessons when I grow up?”
Aemond looks at you for a moment. He should ask his wife first, but how can he deny you anything? His first child, his only daughter.
“Will you behave?”
“Yes, I promise! I promise I shall not slap the thwart…”
“He’s still your brother, Y/N”, Aemond scowls at you.
“Sorry. But I promise, yes.”
“Then I will teach you myself.”
Aemond swears he’s never seen such a bright face before. The light in your eyes almost makes this iron prince get to tears.
“I love you, daddy.” You say as you hug him tight.
….
“I love you too, my dear girl.”
*
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you are coming to tell me you are teaching our only girl to practice with sword”, says Helaena in such a casual tone that Aemond believes there should be an accusation where in truth there is none.
“And are you?”
With the children asleep, the two are settling their own nest. Aemond is thankful for this moment, where privacy is finally unbroken.
“She is a princess, Aemond”, Helaena gives her husband an amused glance, as if she knows things he doesn’t. “Mother would be horrified if she knew.”
“Thankfully, she is too occupied with her business in King’s Landing to be meddling in how we raise our children”, says Aemond, still somewhat resented that his mother is as absent now as she was before.
Helaena comes by his side and gently touches his face, making him look at her. As she does so, the princess removes his eyepatch and leans to kiss his forehead.
“She loves us in her own way”, then she melts in his embrace.
Aemond presses a kiss over her forehead, holding her tight. They stay like this for a while until the prince asks:
“What will be of our dear Y/N?”
Helaena looks up at him with amusement glinting in her lilac gaze. She smiles when she points it out:
“Y/N is really your favourite, isn’t she? Please be careful about it, or our sons will be jealous. Well, her future is not something that will get us preoccupied.”
That night, Aemond Targaryen slept a lot better.
*
You are visiting your aunt Rhaenyra and your uncle at Dragonstone again when you are told that there is a red dragon located at the dragon’s pit.
“Really?”, you ask Jacaerys. “How’d you know?”
“Father says that the old dragons like it there better. It’s like home for them, which makes sense considering their history.”
“Hum”, you say.
“You’re not considering going there, are you? No one has tamed Vermithor for decades since King Jaehaerys died”, Jacaerys gives you a concerned look.
But you do not give away your bold side just yet. You smile and dismiss his concerns by assuring him that you won’t do such a thing. In the meantime you two are speaking, here we follow to the adults conversation.
Sitting in the higher table are Rhaenyra and her husband, as well as Aemond and Helaena. They are expecting to welcome King Viserys and Queen Helaena with their youngest son Daeron in the next day.
“I have news to share”, says a mischievous Rhaenyra after a while.
“I’ve noticed you haven’t drank your wine, dear sister”, Helaena giggles quietly. “One wonders why.”
“Good Gods”, Aemond raises his eyebrows at Aegon. “Who knew this would come too far?”
“You ruined the news like always, Aemond”, says Aegon, amused. “But in truth.. aye, few would say an arranging as this would blossom to something good and provide to be a right decision.”
“Talk about it. How many children came of it?”, Aemond could not help himself, chuckling as he is elbowed by his wife.
“Aemond”, she snaps at him. “Don’t be mean.”
“Hardly mean, sister”, interferes Rhaenyra amused. “The children are good. And speaking of them…”
“Jacaerys is very fond of Y/N”, muses Aegon. “We’d think he and Visenya were pairing well, but Visenya prefers Lucerys whilst Baela has rather been good friends with Maegor.”
Aemond notices how Helaena suddenly appears more pompous. This time he’s the one who quietens. Marriage is not his expertise field and as he notices the group of children playing, he cannot foresee them married. Or maybe he’s just being protective.
Indeed as it seems, Maegor and Baela are getting along just fine: the former reads and the latter listens. A sight that actually leaves a good impression on Aemond, who had his own doubts about Maegor’s interest in studies.
He keeps an eye at the maid who’s holding baby Jaehaerys before noticing you, Visenya, Jacaerys and Lucerys discussing… dragons. Again. This time Aemond narrows his eyes, waiting for some strange burst or abrupt humor swift. He side smirks to himself at your composed self, but in fact the prince detects some familiar determination that honestly…. He isn’t sure if he wants to find out the reason behind it.
“Aemond”, Helaena summons him impatiently. “The children are doing good, thank you. May you be more considerate in this matter? What do you think?”
Murmuring an apology, Aemond doesn’t shy away of what he’s asked of. But Helaena knows the difficulty in doing so. However, the princess is certain that a merry path is underway. All they must do now is sow the seeds.
In the meantime their future is planned, you are found playing with your cousins.
“I have a dream of flying with Silverwing to Winterfell”, says Jaehaerys. “Much like our forefathers did.”
“You’ve claimed Silverwing?”, you cannot help admiring. “How bold!”
“I was not allowed to mount Vermithor for a strange reason. But alas Silverwing is such a good girl”, Jaehaerys smiles warmly.
“Silverwing was matched to Vermithor”, Visenya meddled, somewhat maliciously.
You cast her cousin a long gaze, but opt to remain quiet. Seeing you don’t buy the bait, or at least it is what Visenya assumes, topics are changed. But little they know what you are to do this evening.
*
“Y/N looks restless”, Aemond muses as he lies next to Helaena.
The princess is mute for a moment. She turns to face her husband.
“It is her moment, Aemond.”
“She is claiming her dragon”, but the prince doesn’t take it well. It’s up to Helaena to tell him what she has seen your future so far.
“Look, there is something you must know about Y/N…”
*
You walk barefoot the moment your feet reach the sand. Under moonlight you opt to trace your steps to Vermithor cave through an unknown—or rather an unusual—path that few are familiar with.
It’s risky. You know. Part of you wonders if this is right, but if Jacaerys has claimed Silverwing… You blush. Pairing the dragons together has only been done once and it was done so by your great-grandparents Jaehaerys I & Alysanne.
But you want to prove your parents that you are not delicate as they see you. In the end… you want to be seen as bold as your cousins, as Targaryen as any of them.
Here you are. Holding a torch to light your way, you enter unprotected through it. The great red-ish winged being opens its eyes and stares at you, distrusted.
A loud groan echoes through the cave, and the sound may as well be mistaken to an earthquake. But you do not quake in fear, despite looking paralyzed as the large old dragon comes at you as if you are ready to be burnt.
It’s when death comes so close that you lift your chin and tell Vermithor:
“I am my father’s daughter and I will claim you, Vermithor.”
The dragon spits fire as if to defy you. You escape barely of losing your life, but you proceed—even if your body shakes and your conscience questions your audacity.
“LIKYRI, VERMITHOR! DOHAERAS!”
A little girl. Nine moons and counting. Giving such a command to a dragon almost as old as time. It could end very bad.
But it does not. Vermithor doesn’t spit fire. It bows towards you.
And you smile proudly.
“Like my father. We are in this together, Vermithor.”
As poets later say, like father like daughter.
And this is not the ending, it is just the beginning.
More Posts from Belovedofrhaenyra and Others
The Favorite.
summary: Alicent has always loved her youngest daughter most. Too much, perhaps. — This is intended to focus on the relationship between Alicent and daughter!reader but will eventually dive into some Jace x reader (maybe some Baela x reader too idk yet) and platonic!yan green family in the following parts.
cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship, mentions of childbirth, pregnancy, alicent is on some weird shit about her favorite child, platonic!yan!alicent
notes: reader is said to resemble alicent, as in her hair and eye color.
word count: 2.7k
When Queen Alicent ended her labors, exhausted, delirious and filled with an anticipatory dread she’d come to know was unavoidable; she heard the maester say, “a healthy princess, my queen.” She had grimaced then as the child’s cries filled the air but the babe was pushed into her limp arms which almost refused her. There, laid upon her breast, was her daughter…with features so like hers. It felt unreal, she had been prepared to bear another princeling with a smattering of fuzzy silver hair to form his crown. To remind her of whom their sire was. But as you laid against her, cooing irritably at the noise in the room and squinting at her with those eyes she knew so well, she fell in love. Weakly, in her milk of the poppy haze, she thought on the moments of her pregnancy where she’d felt so uncomfortable, so ready for the babe to leave and return her body to her. It could be said that in that moment it was the rush of hormones and the dregs of milk of the poppy still ravaging her system but suddenly, regretted those feelings sorely. No, she should have cherished the time when you were safely tucked away for herself. When you were more hers than you’d ever be again.
She held onto that for years. The ache of separateness she’d never felt for any one of her children before. The love for her other children had always come so late in comparison. With you, it was so easy.
Until it wasn’t so. You hadn’t yet flowered but you’d grown so fast. The ache intensified, the stirring need to have you back where you belonged, closer to her heart — very nearly killed her every time she saw you. Even so, she would still rather be with you than your siblings. She couldn’t be with you as much as she had when you were but a babe and she could take you anywhere in her arms without scrutiny. She was preoccupied with the needs and antics of your elder siblings who always seemed to be in need of something they could not or otherwise would not give themselves. It was exhausting. The ache was a reprieve in itself from the monumental exhaustion of dealing with your, though beloved to be sure, very high maintenance siblings. It was pleasant. Everything about being a mother was as tender as a wound, it could never be wholly pleasant. But there was something so addictive in it when it was you. She never felt so close to the Mother as when she held you.
In your chambers just after you’ve bathed and dressed in your nightgown, she arrived at the side of your bed to kiss your forehead gently, a gesture reserved for you. “Tell me what you’ve learned from your Septa today,” she softly instructed, stroking your hair. It has gotten so long, so soft and so lovely to twirl about her fingers. It’s a habit she developed. “Did you practice your letters?”
You nodded, looking up at her. “Yes, she says I’ve gotten much better.”
“Good job,” she praised, a soft smile on her lips. “Perhaps I don't have to read to you nearly as much now.” A lie. She'd read to you until the end of the world, even if you no longer needed her to, so long as she can be near you. Her eyes slipped shut momentarily, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as her hands continued to stroke your hair in a lulling rhythm.
You pouted slightly, in a way she might've reprimanded you for, had you been your elder sister. "But I like you reading to me."
You feel her arms wrap around you, folding you into her embrace, unable to resist. “Would you like me to read now?” she murmurs, kissing the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed, still slightly dampened hair.
"Yes, please." So pleasing and charming you were when you said it. Oh, she could hardly get your siblings to simply mutter the words meaninglessly!
"Very well," she said softly, but the warmth in her voice made it more than a simple 'yes', her other children would never know she could offer anything but a resigned, "here" that came with an exasperated sigh. She settled in next to you.
"What shall it be tonight?" She asked, her thumb stroking your cheek, her voice holding a level of patience that could only come from the love she has for you. "The Seven Pointed Star?" You hummed your assent.
She opened the tome, her eyes scanning the words for a moment before she begins.
"The Seven Who Are One…" Your mother's voice sung out in a soft lilt, the words soft, the pace measured and gentle. As she speaks you feel yourself relaxing, and falling deeper into her embrace. You could lose yourself with her. Your eyes closed as she read on. Her words fell into a rhythm and her voice carries a soothing tune. You feel drawn inward. The world is just you and your mother.
Alas, she’d had to leave you after you fell asleep, to check on her other, more tumultuous children. It was a mournful fact that because you were her youngest and regardless of being her most beloved, she was still forced to give less of her time to you. But she returned before you woke and when you opened your eyes, your mother was there sitting beside you in your bed. “Good morning, sweetling.” she said, and she snuggled you in her arms, just holding you. She gazed at you, studying your face. “You slept for a while, it is already late morning, I wasn’t sure if you would wake.”
“Good morning.” You rubbed at your tired eyes. “I slept deeply, I suppose…” you muttered.
Alicent knew this. Of course she did, she was watching you for a while. “You've always slept heavily. Even as a babe, you would fall sound asleep with just a bit of rocking.” A small smile curled at her lips, her voice soft and motherly. “I used to worry that you’d never awaken, when you were a babe. I could never tell the difference between your sleeping and your death.”
That earned her a small, dreamy smile from your lips. “You were fussing over me even then?”
Her ensuing laughter was rich, and her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, my sweetling, of course I was.” Her tone grew more serious then, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I worried for you every single day.”
“You worry now.”
“I know. And I know you think me foolish, but I do.” Her voice held the weight of her heart, the weight of years of anxiety. She strokes your hair, her hands gentle as they run through your locks. “I know you're nearly a woman grown, but I cannot help it. You are my daughter, my youngest. My little one.”
“I would not wish to leave your side,” you tried to assure her.
She sighed. “I would be wroth to see you ever leave my side. I cannot stomach it.” She kisses the top of your head. “I don’t know how I will do it if you are wed outside of our house. I feel my heart break just thinking of it.”
“Mine as well.” It was true, you truly could not imagine being away from your mother’s side. You did not particularly desire either of your silly elder brothers but the idea of marrying them held a certain comfort as it meant you’d get to stay with your mother. You were certain to die if you had to leave her behind.
“They tell me not to dote upon you, and to prepare you for life. But I can only see you as my child. I suppose I will forever.” She looked at you with a somewhat haunted expression, and her hand moved to cup your cheek.
“I enjoy you doting on me. Your company is a comfort.”
"I am glad," she smiled, her fingers threading through your hair. "When I'm not around, I worry that the world will be harsh to you, that it will swallow you whole and break you. I did not have…my mother with me when I left my home for good. But you have me. You are mine, and I wish to keep you safe."
She bit her lip before continuing. “I would have kept you in my womb until we turned to dust, would that I could. I know it is foolish but I miss it terribly. There we had nothing to fear. I protected you from the outside. You lived in a realm of safety, of comfort. No one could ever touch you there. No one could ever hurt you."
The concept intrigued you. The life you led, of scrutiny and pending obligation, could leave you feeling so exposed, a wound open to the air. “The world is much too loud now that I’m in it. I do miss being so close to you.” You obviously couldn't remember, not like she did, but you could imagine. You could imagine yourself curled into her, held by her, never needing anything but that...and the thought was an enticing one.
“I miss it more,” Alicent whispers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know it is foolish of me, but when I see a woman with a child in her belly, I cannot help but be reminded of you, I cannot help but envy her.” Her voice was sullen, her gazed fixed on you. “I miss those kicks against my womb, and I miss the way you would curl into yourself. I wish I could bring us back.” Revising history is something the queen has gotten quite good at doing, she cannot recall— or at least won’t admit to, those same feelings of helplessness, lethargy and slight dissociation that had returned with each pregnancy. All of it has been replaced, memories tinged in the feeling of yearning she carries now.
“It would be just us two,” you whispered, your chest tightening slightly with an unfortunate longing to return to her.
"Forever. That would have been a very good life, my sweetling. A peaceful one." A tear trickled down her cheek, this time, though, she did not even try to wipe it away. You reached out to wipe her tear away, delicately with your thumb and the gesture was so soft, she thinks. Softer than any touch she had ever felt. It overwhelmed her to the point of trembling.
“Thank you.” Her voice was slightly raspy. You are truly beautiful to her in the candlelight, and even though you are a girl almost grown, she still sees you as the babe you were when you were first pushed into her arms, so many nights ago. “You have a very soft touch."
“Of course, I learned from you,” you said easily and Alicent had to look closely at your expression to be certain you aren’t just being jovial at her expense. But she was relieved and vaguely ashamed to find that you are entirely sincere without a hint of irony in all of your being.
She was speechless for a moment. Alicent was no longer gentle, she didn’t think she had that in her anymore. Her whole being felt sharp, ready to bleed. Even with her own children, she was seldom the mother she’d have imagined herself to be before she was married, especially with Aegon who she so struggled to even want to be gentle with. She’d forgotten that all the gentleness she possessed was not lost but had simply been redirected into you. It shamed her, it relieved her.
She decided that it was true, even if later she’d be deep her self loathing and rebuke the notion. For now, your softness was owed to the kind of mother she’d been to you. “That is true.” She laughed softly, feeling the high of your praise overwhelm her wariness. Her hands returned to playing in your hair, wafting the scent of soap and the warm musk of your skin toward her. Oh, that scent…When she come to visit your chambers just after you left them, she’d smell your pillows, your sheets, unable to help herself. It always unlocked some beastly sort of satisfaction inside her. She had even saved a little gown of yours from when you were a babe, unwilling to part with the scent of your skin. Back then, she’d attributed it to you being so young, to the bodily mysteries of a mother still fresh from labor but it had lingered. “You have such a sweet smell, my girl. I have always loved your scent.”
“I know. My handmaid told me you used to smell me a lot when I was a babe.”
So her strangeness had not gone unnoticed. “That I did. The smell of your sweet skin…” You could tell she got lost in a memory for a bit, and her face grew nostalgic. “I loved your scent so much. There was nothing like it.”
“Every day, I would smell your skin. I would kiss your cheeks and your little fingers…” Her words trailed off as she smiled, remembering. “You still have the same scent now. I would know it anywhere.”
“You were enamored with me,” you said, grinning as you stretched out in bed like a lazy cat.
She laughed softly. “I really was. You were a beautiful babe, so perfect and delicate in my eyes. I never wanted to let you out of my sight.” She remembered her father admonishing her for refusing to leave you with the maids, her near in tears trying to make him understand that this was different and him simply not willing to understand how the love of a fourth child, a girl, could have driven his daughter so utterly mad.
“I know. Grandsire says you took me everywhere with you.”
“That I did,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “I did not want anyone else to hold you.”
“Why not?” You had yet to truly address the severity of your mother’s preoccupation with you. To you, it was only love. You could not understand its implications or its logic.
“Because I did not trust anyone else with you.” She whispered. “I could not bear the thought of even leaving you with a maid, not for long anyway. You are my child, and I did not want anyone but me to care for you or see to your needs.”
“Oh, but it must have been such work!”
“All children are work, a lot of it,” she insisted. “But you were— you are a good kind of work. You gave me something to focus on besides all my other obligations. You were my little princess, always with me, and always wanting my attention. It was tiring, but I would not have had it any other way.” You made her feel the kind of love her first chance at motherhood should have brought her. You made her feel like a mother in the way the gods intended.
“That is very sweet.” It was more than sweet. It warmed your heart to hear from your mother that the work she has put into raising you, into keeping you — she saw it all as worth the trouble.
“It’s the truth. I have never loved anything more than you.”
“I’m glad for it. Glad to be deserving of it.”
Oh, your sweet little heart! Her hand cupped your face, and her fingers stroked your soft, delicate cheek, her eyes meeting yours. “You are far greater than deserving. You were perfect when you arrived, and you only became more beautiful as you grew older.”
You looked down, slightly bashful. “You’re beautiful too, mother.”
Your words bring on the fiercest of longing. Tears of joy and perhaps bitterness trickled from her eyes. "You are the sweetest daughter a mother could ask for. I love you so very much."
She is near breaking into a fit of sobs, breathing deeply to calm herself, blinking away her tears before she speaks again. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, and have those days again. The days where we could be wrapped up in each other, and the world was just us two."
And as your eyes light at the words, she cannot resist anymore. She brings you into her arms, your head resting against her breasts and her leaning down to kiss your head, breathing in your smell yet again. In a few years at latest, she’d wed you to one of your brothers and keep you safe within her watch. Then everything would be alright, you’d be safe only when there was promise you could stay with her forever.
“No matter,” she murmured against your hair, trying to soothe herself back into dignity. “Mother will protect you even now.”
Portrait of Abigail's updated wedding look
And a little excerpt from the wedding feast ❤️
"Another lord's empty blessings fell on deaf ears as Abigail stared straight through him. Maybe she just needed some rest to clear her head. She hadn't slept much since Joffrey's death. Her gaze shifted to her left, going past Tommen and landing on Cersei, and then to her right towards her grandfather. There was a thought, lingering in the back of her mind. A darker thought. A thought that made her too uncomfortable to consider, but she couldn't help but wonder: Was there something deep within her, something wrong? Was there a lurking anger within her that she needed to keep in check, lest it erupt?"
a days worth
synopsis: a slice of life with geta and his child. (2k)
pairings: emperor geta and his child: emperor caracalla and his niece
contents: animal fighting, gladiatorial fights, blood and gore, mentions of nightmares, author doing her best for historical accuracy, geta being a girl dad! a/n: part two!! this poor girl is still unnamed, but it's alright! she's doing her best. a venatio is an animal fight where a wild animal faces off with people within the colosseum!
divider by @saradika
masterlist!!
when geta is awoken, it's with a warm cheek pressed into his side.
the windows are opened, and the sun lightens the entirety of the room. the room is comfortably warmed by the sun, nearly lulling geta back to slumber.
his child is curled around a pillow, seemingly sideways with her breath fanning out into the air as she lies on his chest, wrapped in linens. it seemed that she had stolen his linens in the night, as she was nearly buried in them.
his child looks endlessly peaceful in her sleep, content in somnus' realm. geta knows he should get up, summon the servants, and tuck her back underneath the linens, only able to see her in passing until the games later that day.
instead, he plays with a string of curly hair that peeks out of the blanket, listening to the sound of his child's breathing as they bask in the sun, their responsibilities lingering outside of his door.
-
the streets were bursting with chatter and festivity as seemingly every roman citizen clambered their way to the colosseum, rowdy with the promise of bloodshed.
his people feasted on war and bloodshed, even if they did not wish to admit it. geta felt the heat of rome on his skin, the warmth radiating from the sun as he stood behind the curtains leading to the emperor’s box, ignoring the way his brother shifted anxiously, consistently paranoid about the threat of assassination.
he could hear the roar of his people from behind the curtains, the excitement brimming in the bones of thousands, ready to animalistically tear apart the gladiators below.
this was not war by any means, but it would keep his empire calm for the day.
behind the curtain, he can hear his mother conversing with a general as everyone waits for them to step out from behind the curtain, to allow the games to commence.
however, it's with a nudge to his forearm that he looks back, grinning at the sight of his daughter, dressed similarly to both him and his mother, donning a smaller version of a laurel wreath upon her head.
"my child," his voice seemed to boom within the room as his brother also turned to grin at the child, who grins back. his hand finds the warmed cheek of his daughter, stretched in a grin that bears her teeth.
much like him, she dons a wide expanse of jewelry, wearing an identical blue ring on her left hand. as the sun peaks through the curtains, his child seems to radiate as the gold grows brighter underneath the sun.
"father? are you well?", geta had to strain his ears to hear the question, despite the fact his child wasn't too far away, pressed against his arm, seeking comfort before the games. her eyes seemed to grow impossibly wider as the question went unanswered.
after a minute of looking at his child, geta nods and turns around before he drops his hand, his child's nose still pressed to the back of his forearm as she stands behind, yet between them. he faintly thinks of how much his citizens will talk about this.
it seemed that the sight of his daughter soothed the unrest of the citizens. when the whispers of their vanity and cruelty ran rampant through the streets, geta was always careful to bring his daughter out.
while well-loved by the citizens, geta knew his child was often a cruel topic between senators and generals alike. it seemed to upset the men within the box, that his child held a considerable amount of power in the eyes of roman citizens.
geta had killed men and women alike the minute he caught wind of any ill-intent towards his child, the senators and generals that sat within the box were no different.
for a moment, he debates sending his child back to her servants, to keep her safe from the looming threat of being in front of rome's people. but as a servant pulls the curtains back, and the noise of the colosseum swallows them, he knows it's too late.
-
excitement seemed to fill the colosseum as geta watched from his chair next to caracalla, bathing in the bloodshed below. his child was on her knees in front of them, head peeking over the edge of the box. her cheers seem to blend in with every other cheer.
he can barely hear anything past the yelling and cheers of the citizens below, and the roaring noises erupting from the rhinoceros within the stage. the ventaio had only just begun, and the rhinoceros had already gained the upper hand.
his child turns to laugh as caracalla begins wildly giggling next to him as the rhinoceros roars and rushes toward the man on the stage.
unfortunately, the man is not quick enough, and the rhinoceros is quick to charge at the man with its horn. caracalla is giggling next to him, feeding into the crowd’s excitement as the rhinoceros tramples the man to death.
entrails hang from the greyed horn, swaying in the wind and sending blood splattering onto the walls. the animal continues its tirade against the smashed corpse of the man until no identifiable limb is left in sight, a mush of blood and body on the ground.
grinning, he waves a hand, joining his family in laughter as the rhinoceros is led out of the ring, and a new pair of gladiators enter the ring.
-
geta can tell the exact moment his child grows tired.
her body seems to slump against the edge of the box, and her hands cushion her chin as she watches the fight below. both men were fairly new to the gladiatorial games and seemed unsure of what to do as the crowd screamed at them.
he allows his attention to drift for the slightest of moments, stretching out a veiny hand to pull his child closer. she seems to feel the grab coming as she leans back and his hand wraps around her shoulder.
she stands on shaky legs before joining him on the chair, slightly leaning against the arm of the chair. his attention swiftly returns to the fight as his child settles in next to him, leaning against a pillar behind her head.
he allows himself to get lost in the craze of bloodshed once more, grinning and cackling as the gladiators finally turn against one another instead of trying to rebel.
a sick glee fills his chest as the men dance, swords flying through the air and blood splattering.
-
geta splits away from his child once more when they return to palatine. she’s still dozed from her nap, blinking away fatigue as she waves goodbye from behind a servant’s hip.
he’s immediately swept away with caracalla, whispers of an invasion against a neighboring village filling the air.
general acasius is by their side, harshly drilling into the other generals as maps are sprawled across tables and opinions are thrown back and forth.
-
it’s deep into the night when the battle plans are finalized, and geta is left with his brother. caracalla’s eyes are deceivingly bright, still energized despite the day’s events.
for a minute, they sit in silence, engulfed in the warmth of the torches of the study, sitting as brothers instead of emperors.
caracalla is the first one to break, muffling a yawn as he stands from his chair, rushing off into the halls. no words are exchanged by them, just a slight nod, and caracalla is gone into the night.
a headache pummels itself against his head, irritated by the constant bickering of their generals. he's thankful for the silence of the study as he bathes in the warmth of the torches, and the stillness of palatine.
a stillness that is promptly interrupted by the door creaking open, and soft sniffling that has his head swinging back. his sweet daughter stands in the doorway, peering over at him from behind a servant's back.
with a crook of his fingers, his daughter is shuffling his way, and the servant is leaving, gently shutting the door behind them. she stands in front of him for a minute before sniffling again, wrapping herself tighter in the linens she brought with her. the flickering torchlight cast shadows across her pale face, revealing the telltale flush of sleep on her cheeks. he could see the way her eyes glistened, heavy-lidded with fatigue.
“father?” her voice was barely a whisper, tinged with a raspy-ness that sent worry down his spine. she inched closer, the linens draping around her like a shroud.
“what is it, my dove?” geta asked, forcing himself to remain gentle, as his child always startled easily when drowsy. he gestured for her to come closer to him, and gently tugged her onto his lap, cradling her body against his chest. she fit so perfectly against him, as if she belonged there, and he wished he could shelter her from the world forever.
“i had a bad dream,” she murmured, her forehead resting against his chest. “there was a rhinoceros in our chambers, and it ate you!" he stroked her hair, muffling a chuckle into her ruffled hair.
"i'm right here, my dove. there are no rhinoceros' within our home, if there were, i'd have their horns." the thought of rhinoceros' within palatine was laughable, the vile, bloodied beasts just walking the halls was a sight they would never see.
alas, venatioes always gave his child nightmares, the beasts that fought for their lives always ended up in her dreams, always inflicting pain on a member of their family. it would send his child rolling into his arms, awaking in a pitiful fit of cries.
"but i don't feel good, can i stay here with you, father?" her voice quivered, pushing her head underneath his chin.
geta sighed, as much as he would love to stay in the study, basking in the warmth, the study was far too vulnerable, and he could lose her easily to fate’s cruel hand.
“then you should be in bed, resting. this study holds too many dangers, our bed is far safer." she looked up at him, big eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “but father, i want to stay here, it’s much warmer.”
irritation sparked in his chest. his child rarely went against him, but the few times she did, it enraged him. she knew he did everything in her favor, did everything he could to keep her safe from the cruelties of rome.
despite this, his child held an affection for rebelling against his wishes. geta could count the amount of times she had directly gone against him on one hand, but the few times she had, it hadn't ended prettily. his daughter’s vulnerability, whilst heartwarming, ignited a flame of craze within him. losing her to sickness, injury or her own naivety was a fate he refused to entertain.
“alright, my dove,” he sighed, his voice low and smooth. “we will go to our chambers. let’s get you in bed, away from those dreams of rhinoceros.” he anchored himself, shifting to rise, and pulled her onto his hip effortlessly, her weight a welcomed comfort against him.
she nestled against him, her small form bundled in linens that felt chilled from her descent down to his study. his grip tightened instinctively around her, as if holding her too loosely could expose her to the dangers lurking within the halls of palatine. as he stepped into the dimly lit halls, shadows danced in the flickering torchlight, and his mind raced through the myriad of potential threats: the whispering intrigues of too many ambitious men, a rebellion, or perhaps, in his daughter's mind, a rhinoceros.
-
once again, geta awakes with a cheek pressed to his side. this time, his daughter is curled up against his side, hidden underneath their shared linens.
it is dark in their room, the rain pattering down the sides of palatine as a storm washes over rome. with one lasting look to the darkness outside of their chambers, geta turns to his side, and pulls his child a little closer.
they have a few more hours, so for now, geta will rest.
The Favorite.
summary: Alicent has always loved her youngest daughter most. Too much, perhaps. — This is intended to focus on the relationship between Alicent and daughter!reader but will eventually dive into some Jace x reader (maybe some Baela x reader too idk yet) and platonic!yan green family in the following parts.
cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship, mentions of childbirth, pregnancy, alicent is on some weird shit about her favorite child, platonic!yan!alicent
notes: reader is said to resemble alicent, as in her hair and eye color.
word count: 2.7k
When Queen Alicent ended her labors, exhausted, delirious and filled with an anticipatory dread she’d come to know was unavoidable; she heard the maester say, “a healthy princess, my queen.” She had grimaced then as the child’s cries filled the air but the babe was pushed into her limp arms which almost refused her. There, laid upon her breast, was her daughter…with features so like hers. It felt unreal, she had been prepared to bear another princeling with a smattering of fuzzy silver hair to form his crown. To remind her of whom their sire was. But as you laid against her, cooing irritably at the noise in the room and squinting at her with those eyes she knew so well, she fell in love. Weakly, in her milk of the poppy haze, she thought on the moments of her pregnancy where she’d felt so uncomfortable, so ready for the babe to leave and return her body to her. It could be said that in that moment it was the rush of hormones and the dregs of milk of the poppy still ravaging her system but suddenly, regretted those feelings sorely. No, she should have cherished the time when you were safely tucked away for herself. When you were more hers than you’d ever be again.
She held onto that for years. The ache of separateness she’d never felt for any one of her children before. The love for her other children had always come so late in comparison. With you, it was so easy.
Until it wasn’t so. You hadn’t yet flowered but you’d grown so fast. The ache intensified, the stirring need to have you back where you belonged, closer to her heart — very nearly killed her every time she saw you. Even so, she would still rather be with you than your siblings. She couldn’t be with you as much as she had when you were but a babe and she could take you anywhere in her arms without scrutiny. She was preoccupied with the needs and antics of your elder siblings who always seemed to be in need of something they could not or otherwise would not give themselves. It was exhausting. The ache was a reprieve in itself from the monumental exhaustion of dealing with your, though beloved to be sure, very high maintenance siblings. It was pleasant. Everything about being a mother was as tender as a wound, it could never be wholly pleasant. But there was something so addictive in it when it was you. She never felt so close to the Mother as when she held you.
In your chambers just after you’ve bathed and dressed in your nightgown, she arrived at the side of your bed to kiss your forehead gently, a gesture reserved for you. “Tell me what you’ve learned from your Septa today,” she softly instructed, stroking your hair. It has gotten so long, so soft and so lovely to twirl about her fingers. It’s a habit she developed. “Did you practice your letters?”
You nodded, looking up at her. “Yes, she says I’ve gotten much better.”
“Good job,” she praised, a soft smile on her lips. “Perhaps I don't have to read to you nearly as much now.” A lie. She'd read to you until the end of the world, even if you no longer needed her to, so long as she can be near you. Her eyes slipped shut momentarily, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as her hands continued to stroke your hair in a lulling rhythm.
You pouted slightly, in a way she might've reprimanded you for, had you been your elder sister. "But I like you reading to me."
You feel her arms wrap around you, folding you into her embrace, unable to resist. “Would you like me to read now?” she murmurs, kissing the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed, still slightly dampened hair.
"Yes, please." So pleasing and charming you were when you said it. Oh, she could hardly get your siblings to simply mutter the words meaninglessly!
"Very well," she said softly, but the warmth in her voice made it more than a simple 'yes', her other children would never know she could offer anything but a resigned, "here" that came with an exasperated sigh. She settled in next to you.
"What shall it be tonight?" She asked, her thumb stroking your cheek, her voice holding a level of patience that could only come from the love she has for you. "The Seven Pointed Star?" You hummed your assent.
She opened the tome, her eyes scanning the words for a moment before she begins.
"The Seven Who Are One…" Your mother's voice sung out in a soft lilt, the words soft, the pace measured and gentle. As she speaks you feel yourself relaxing, and falling deeper into her embrace. You could lose yourself with her. Your eyes closed as she read on. Her words fell into a rhythm and her voice carries a soothing tune. You feel drawn inward. The world is just you and your mother.
Alas, she’d had to leave you after you fell asleep, to check on her other, more tumultuous children. It was a mournful fact that because you were her youngest and regardless of being her most beloved, she was still forced to give less of her time to you. But she returned before you woke and when you opened your eyes, your mother was there sitting beside you in your bed. “Good morning, sweetling.” she said, and she snuggled you in her arms, just holding you. She gazed at you, studying your face. “You slept for a while, it is already late morning, I wasn’t sure if you would wake.”
“Good morning.” You rubbed at your tired eyes. “I slept deeply, I suppose…” you muttered.
Alicent knew this. Of course she did, she was watching you for a while. “You've always slept heavily. Even as a babe, you would fall sound asleep with just a bit of rocking.” A small smile curled at her lips, her voice soft and motherly. “I used to worry that you’d never awaken, when you were a babe. I could never tell the difference between your sleeping and your death.”
That earned her a small, dreamy smile from your lips. “You were fussing over me even then?”
Her ensuing laughter was rich, and her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, my sweetling, of course I was.” Her tone grew more serious then, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I worried for you every single day.”
“You worry now.”
“I know. And I know you think me foolish, but I do.” Her voice held the weight of her heart, the weight of years of anxiety. She strokes your hair, her hands gentle as they run through your locks. “I know you're nearly a woman grown, but I cannot help it. You are my daughter, my youngest. My little one.”
“I would not wish to leave your side,” you tried to assure her.
She sighed. “I would be wroth to see you ever leave my side. I cannot stomach it.” She kisses the top of your head. “I don’t know how I will do it if you are wed outside of our house. I feel my heart break just thinking of it.”
“Mine as well.” It was true, you truly could not imagine being away from your mother’s side. You did not particularly desire either of your silly elder brothers but the idea of marrying them held a certain comfort as it meant you’d get to stay with your mother. You were certain to die if you had to leave her behind.
“They tell me not to dote upon you, and to prepare you for life. But I can only see you as my child. I suppose I will forever.” She looked at you with a somewhat haunted expression, and her hand moved to cup your cheek.
“I enjoy you doting on me. Your company is a comfort.”
"I am glad," she smiled, her fingers threading through your hair. "When I'm not around, I worry that the world will be harsh to you, that it will swallow you whole and break you. I did not have…my mother with me when I left my home for good. But you have me. You are mine, and I wish to keep you safe."
She bit her lip before continuing. “I would have kept you in my womb until we turned to dust, would that I could. I know it is foolish but I miss it terribly. There we had nothing to fear. I protected you from the outside. You lived in a realm of safety, of comfort. No one could ever touch you there. No one could ever hurt you."
The concept intrigued you. The life you led, of scrutiny and pending obligation, could leave you feeling so exposed, a wound open to the air. “The world is much too loud now that I’m in it. I do miss being so close to you.” You obviously couldn't remember, not like she did, but you could imagine. You could imagine yourself curled into her, held by her, never needing anything but that...and the thought was an enticing one.
“I miss it more,” Alicent whispers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know it is foolish of me, but when I see a woman with a child in her belly, I cannot help but be reminded of you, I cannot help but envy her.” Her voice was sullen, her gazed fixed on you. “I miss those kicks against my womb, and I miss the way you would curl into yourself. I wish I could bring us back.” Revising history is something the queen has gotten quite good at doing, she cannot recall— or at least won’t admit to, those same feelings of helplessness, lethargy and slight dissociation that had returned with each pregnancy. All of it has been replaced, memories tinged in the feeling of yearning she carries now.
“It would be just us two,” you whispered, your chest tightening slightly with an unfortunate longing to return to her.
"Forever. That would have been a very good life, my sweetling. A peaceful one." A tear trickled down her cheek, this time, though, she did not even try to wipe it away. You reached out to wipe her tear away, delicately with your thumb and the gesture was so soft, she thinks. Softer than any touch she had ever felt. It overwhelmed her to the point of trembling.
“Thank you.” Her voice was slightly raspy. You are truly beautiful to her in the candlelight, and even though you are a girl almost grown, she still sees you as the babe you were when you were first pushed into her arms, so many nights ago. “You have a very soft touch."
“Of course, I learned from you,” you said easily and Alicent had to look closely at your expression to be certain you aren’t just being jovial at her expense. But she was relieved and vaguely ashamed to find that you are entirely sincere without a hint of irony in all of your being.
She was speechless for a moment. Alicent was no longer gentle, she didn’t think she had that in her anymore. Her whole being felt sharp, ready to bleed. Even with her own children, she was seldom the mother she’d have imagined herself to be before she was married, especially with Aegon who she so struggled to even want to be gentle with. She’d forgotten that all the gentleness she possessed was not lost but had simply been redirected into you. It shamed her, it relieved her.
She decided that it was true, even if later she’d be deep her self loathing and rebuke the notion. For now, your softness was owed to the kind of mother she’d been to you. “That is true.” She laughed softly, feeling the high of your praise overwhelm her wariness. Her hands returned to playing in your hair, wafting the scent of soap and the warm musk of your skin toward her. Oh, that scent…When she come to visit your chambers just after you left them, she’d smell your pillows, your sheets, unable to help herself. It always unlocked some beastly sort of satisfaction inside her. She had even saved a little gown of yours from when you were a babe, unwilling to part with the scent of your skin. Back then, she’d attributed it to you being so young, to the bodily mysteries of a mother still fresh from labor but it had lingered. “You have such a sweet smell, my girl. I have always loved your scent.”
“I know. My handmaid told me you used to smell me a lot when I was a babe.”
So her strangeness had not gone unnoticed. “That I did. The smell of your sweet skin…” You could tell she got lost in a memory for a bit, and her face grew nostalgic. “I loved your scent so much. There was nothing like it.”
“Every day, I would smell your skin. I would kiss your cheeks and your little fingers…” Her words trailed off as she smiled, remembering. “You still have the same scent now. I would know it anywhere.”
“You were enamored with me,” you said, grinning as you stretched out in bed like a lazy cat.
She laughed softly. “I really was. You were a beautiful babe, so perfect and delicate in my eyes. I never wanted to let you out of my sight.” She remembered her father admonishing her for refusing to leave you with the maids, her near in tears trying to make him understand that this was different and him simply not willing to understand how the love of a fourth child, a girl, could have driven his daughter so utterly mad.
“I know. Grandsire says you took me everywhere with you.”
“That I did,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “I did not want anyone else to hold you.”
“Why not?” You had yet to truly address the severity of your mother’s preoccupation with you. To you, it was only love. You could not understand its implications or its logic.
“Because I did not trust anyone else with you.” She whispered. “I could not bear the thought of even leaving you with a maid, not for long anyway. You are my child, and I did not want anyone but me to care for you or see to your needs.”
“Oh, but it must have been such work!”
“All children are work, a lot of it,” she insisted. “But you were— you are a good kind of work. You gave me something to focus on besides all my other obligations. You were my little princess, always with me, and always wanting my attention. It was tiring, but I would not have had it any other way.” You made her feel the kind of love her first chance at motherhood should have brought her. You made her feel like a mother in the way the gods intended.
“That is very sweet.” It was more than sweet. It warmed your heart to hear from your mother that the work she has put into raising you, into keeping you — she saw it all as worth the trouble.
“It’s the truth. I have never loved anything more than you.”
“I’m glad for it. Glad to be deserving of it.”
Oh, your sweet little heart! Her hand cupped your face, and her fingers stroked your soft, delicate cheek, her eyes meeting yours. “You are far greater than deserving. You were perfect when you arrived, and you only became more beautiful as you grew older.”
You looked down, slightly bashful. “You’re beautiful too, mother.”
Your words bring on the fiercest of longing. Tears of joy and perhaps bitterness trickled from her eyes. "You are the sweetest daughter a mother could ask for. I love you so very much."
She is near breaking into a fit of sobs, breathing deeply to calm herself, blinking away her tears before she speaks again. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, and have those days again. The days where we could be wrapped up in each other, and the world was just us two."
And as your eyes light at the words, she cannot resist anymore. She brings you into her arms, your head resting against her breasts and her leaning down to kiss your head, breathing in your smell yet again. In a few years at latest, she’d wed you to one of your brothers and keep you safe within her watch. Then everything would be alright, you’d be safe only when there was promise you could stay with her forever.
“No matter,” she murmured against your hair, trying to soothe herself back into dignity. “Mother will protect you even now.”
“To me the core element of the story is that she was a symbol of decadence and frivolity and end of an era for France. I wanted to build our own costumes and create our own look using a young girl’s candy-colored palette. Because we’re making a movie about Marie Antoinette I thought we needed lots of silk and macaroons, and I asked Milena the costume designer to make the whole palette of the film in the macaroon colors for the young part of her life, and when I visited the real private apartments of Marie Antoinette they had the fabrics that she liked which were turquoise and pink.” - Sofia Coppola
Yandere House Velaryon Headcanons (Platonic)
“The Old, the True, the Brave.” — House Velaryon.
❝ 🐉 — lady l: First of all, Happy Halloween to whoever celebrates it! Have a great and scary day, I’ll be watching some horror movies to get in the mood, but I had to finish this first. I intend, after doing the Hightower ones, to post a hc of all the Houses platonically yandere by the reader together, but until then, I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! Oh, and once again, have a great Halloween!! 🎃
❝tw: yandere themes, possessive and obsessive behavior, unhealthy platonic relationships, child being abandoned by its parents, mention of torture, murder, war and blood.
❝🐉 pairing: yandere!platonic house velaryon x gender neutral!reader.
❝word count: +2k.
You came to the Velaryon family’s embrace in a very convenient way for them, your family abandoned you after they were unable to raise another child. You were left adrift, exposed to all the dangers that surrounded a poor family and you, so young and naive, believed your parents would come for you. And in a way, your parents came to get you, only it was Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen. It was Laenor who found you and brought you to their parents, he was only a few years older than you and he fell in love with you and knew he had to take care of you. As Laenor expected, everyone in his family took a liking to you and started referring to you as (Y/N) Velaryon, child of Corlys and Rhaenys, younger sister/brother of Laenor and Laena Velaryon. They have become your new family and they will be the only family you will ever know.
Corlys is the proudest father there is for you, he is loving, protective and completely obsessed with you. He is an adventurous and ambitious man, Corlys wants nothing but the best for you and he knows that even the best will not be enough for you. The man will definitely take you on all adventures with him, even over his wife’s protest, he just wants you to have fun and make the most of your life. He will spoil you, let you hear him and he will hear you too and he will let you know absolutely everything and he is against you getting married, even if it will benefit the Velaryon family, he still doesn’t want to and won’t do it. You can always count on him, as his father will do everything in his power to fulfill his wishes.
Rhaenys pours all her love over you, loving and caring for you with her whole being. She is a very loving mother, but she also has her temper, but don’t worry, she will never take her frustrations out on you. Rhaenys will definitely pamper you and always assure her of her love for you, she will raise you as if you were a princess/prince because she knows that this is what you deserve. She is a brash and fierce woman when needed, you and everyone else must never forget that she has dragon blood coursing through her veins, and she is more than willing to make everyone understand that they owe you due respect, for you it’s her child and she won’t accept any kind of spite. You know you can always count on her for everything, she is her biggest company most of the time and there are no secrets between you.
Laena is the caring and protective older sister, she always takes time to spend with you. She, like her mother, is brash and daring and she always takes you with her for walks hidden from her parents, as she knows they will be worried if you leave Driftmark without them. Laena is extremely overprotective of you, she is against you getting married and will challenge every one of your suitors, be they male or female, and will most likely win, since she will have her brother’s help in this. She loves taking you with her to fly in Vhagar because she knows how much it makes you happy. Seeing her smile is a top priority for her and she knows she will regret not making you happy, Driftmark’s Delight.
Laenor is the typical big brother who wants to be a role model, he wants you to look up to him and will be honored if you want to follow in his footsteps. He is easily jealous if anyone else has your admiration, as he wishes to be the only one to have it. Laenor would love to teach you how to fight, because he believes, regardless of gender, you should always know how to defend yourself. He’d drag you to all sorts of parties and tournaments, just for you to see him win and have you laugh and have fun next to him. He, like Laena, is protective and will be annoyed if you have feelings for someone and will most likely challenge that person to a duel. All to protect his honor and his beloved little sister/little brother.
Vaemond is an ambitious man and very proud of his family lineage and to have you, an ordinary orphan, be given the surname Velaryon is a great insult to him and his house. He insists and tries to convince Corlys that this is all a big mistake, that you’re a big mistake but his brother doesn’t care about any of it and claims that if Vaemond says one more word about you, he’ll be kicked out of Driftmark. Vaemond was silent for now, so he himself decided to investigate you and why everyone is so obsessed with you. To his surprise, it didn’t take long for him to become just as obsessed with you as the others. He will play the role of a fun and ambitious uncle, ambitious as he still aspires to become Head of House Velaryon and even his love for you won’t stop him from achieving that.
They are all obsessed and protective of you in a similar way and they don’t intend to let you go. Corlys is the most controlling, he knows what’s best for you and he won’t have anyone, not even you, questioning his decisions when it comes to deciding your life, because he loves you and he knows what he’s doing will just get you. benefit in the future. Rhaenys is the fiercest of them all, she is not afraid to stand up to anyone for you and that includes her own husband, she will question his actions if they make you upset, her mother will always be here for you. Laena and Laenor are alike in many ways, they are fun and protective of the youngest member of their family and won’t let a scratch come your way. Vaemond is ambitious and unreliable, but he cares and takes care of you, he has learned to love you like his own child and will do anything for you.
You have immense power over this family and that is clear to everyone around you. Corlys and Rhaenys will pamper and love you immensely, they are your parents and they want only the best for you, you will have everything you want from the finest dresses and jewelry to the most expensive ship, everything to your liking and happiness. Laena wants to be your best friend, she is your best friend, she absolutely adores you and would die for you, you are the sister/brother she loves so much and knows she can’t live without. Laenor is the classic competitive and showy older brother, he likes to show himself to you and he does on many occasions, he won’t say it out loud but he craves your approval and attention and he will do anything to get them. Vaemond is a protective and loving uncle to you, but just for you, he will pamper and take care of you whenever he gets the chance, it is very common to see him around you, murmuring sweet and kind words to you, all the best. for you only. All members of House Velaryon desire one thing in common: your love and approval.
When the war on Stepstones breaks out, Corlys, Laenor and Vaemond want to take you with them, but Laena and Rhaenys object, claiming that you will be safer in Driftmark with them. There’s a lot of discussion about this, and it’s Corlys who gives the final stop and you’ll come with them, because he knows he’ll be able to protect you, Laenor and Vaemond agree with that decision. In Stepstones, you are kept out of reach where the battle rages. You will be exposed to the violence of war, of the massacres committed and even then you will not be allowed to leave until they are victorious. You will witness their victory, while receiving letters from Laena and Rhaenys concerned about you. If only you were with them, a lot of trauma could be avoided at such a young age.
A lot of things change over the course of a few years, Laena dies due to complications in childbirth and you are a mess, your beloved older sister has passed away and your parents and brother pour out all the anguish and pain on you looking for comfort. Unfortunately, you were unaware that later, Laenor would ‘die’ as well and when this tragic news reaches your ears, despair settles in you, as does the pain of yet another loss. Corlys and Rhaenys were heartbroken at the loss of two children and they turned to you, the only child left. Seeing your eyes filled with tears, they ran into your arms, comforting you and also seeking the care and love of their only surviving child. After Laena and Laenor died, your parents became even more protective and possessive of you, you are the only child they have left and they won’t let anything happen to you. Never.
After these tragic events, things only got worse for you and your yandere family. Corlys went to Stepstones to fight in another war, but you remained with Rhaenys in Driftmark, as you chose to do so and your father respected your decision. When news reached you and your mother that Corlys was seriously injured and could be dying, the question of Drfitmark’s succession was questioned by Vaemond. Rhaenys claimed that Driftmark would go to you or her grandchildren Luceyrs, Baela or Rhaena, but Vaemond contested claiming he should be the heir. When they turned to you for support, you chose to side with Rhaenys, against Vaemond and he didn’t take it very well. This whole matter was taken to King’s Landing to be settled and you were with the three families, the Targaryens and the Hightowers, who seemed particularly interested in you, but that was left aside when Viserys entered the room and announced that the Driftmark would be passed on to you. Corlys’ grandson, Luceyrs Velaryon. Your uncle Vaemond did not accept this decision, and even after you tried to stop him, he called Rhaenyra’s children bastards, which led to him being beheaded by Daemon. Seeing your uncle’s lifeless body, you clung to Rhaenys, trying to rid yourself of this terrible sight.
When Viserys died, you and your mother were still in King’s Landing and you were both locked in your rooms by Alicent, who said she hoped to receive your support for Aegon’s succession, something you both denied. You and Rhaenys managed to escape the Red Keep and were present at Aegon II’s coronation, your mother pulled you with her and took you to ride Meleys with her and after breaking into the coronation she said nothing and took you to Dragonstone, to warn Rhaenyra of Viserys’ death and her throne being usurped. You were welcomed and received word that Corlys was sailing to Dragonstone, where you met her father with a warm embrace. He said he would never part with you again and that after he recovered you would live in Driftmark and not participate in the war to come, but Rhaenys said they needed to help Rhaenyra, which you agreed to. Which led Corlys to declare support for the Blacks.
The War is yet to break out and all you know is that you are not allowed to participate, Corlys and Rhaenys already have lost two beloved children and they will not lose another one, you will be kept safe and taken care of at all times. They’ve become paranoid about you, even the slightest scratch drives them crazy and they can’t have you dead. They would not survive one more loss, the loss of their precious and beloved child. You cannot leave them, not even in death.
Yandere team green and bastard!reader
(Alicent edition)
. At your initial arrival, Alicent is filled with mortification. Her lips thinned, tongue held between her teeth, doe brown eyes wide and stern as she stands by her husband's side and awaits for the scolding Daemon is about to receive. To return you at once, as you should have no place in the castle walls. However she's not met with any of that- and she's both furious and offended by Viserys's standoffish acceptance of you.
Even Rhaenyra takes you into her arms, which adds salt to the wound. She wished she could shriek at her husband- to demand an explanation of his actions. Another bastard roams the halls, whilst you all turn a blind eye. I have legitimate heirs, whilst you treat them like air. So it's safe to say she's not terribly happy about your arrival.
The grand echoing hall was filled with the hushed whispers and murmurs as the grand wooden doors were heaved open in the snowy haired princes arrival- gossiping hushed voice arose like a tide amongst the people as Daemon swaggered in with his chin held high and mighty. All with a wailing, kicking child held firmly under his arm like they were a wild alley cat. His expression was unreadable, yet fierce.
Everyone fell still at the sight. Rhaenyra's face pales, her palm settling upon her naval in shock, and viserys simply gawks a little in confusion upon his seat at the iron throne. Jace and Luke shuffle closer to their mother.
"Daemon, what is the meaning of this?", viserys commands. Alicent squeezes her children's shoulders, tucking a young curious Helaena into her side, and a scrunched-brow Aegon behind her. Aemond is unreadable. She casts her husband a wary look, which goes unnoticed.
"I am returning my child home, brother. That is all".
"that is all?" Rhaenyra speaks up. Her voice trembles a little in anger. But her eyes fall upon you, and her expression immediately softens.
Viserys seems to be in deep thoughts, his brow crinkles, before he sighs deeply in defeat.
"bring them closer, let me see".
Alicent shoots him a look. Yet again, she goes unnoticed.
Your feet drag across the floor a little as you're forced to the foot of the throne. The hundreds of peering eyes that leer above you make you squirm and fall silent, afraid, and the courtroom is uncomfortably silent now, it seems everyone is holding their breath awaiting for the kings say. The man- Daemon, you've learnt, stands behind you like a wall. Your back pressed to the front of his legs, and his gloved hands squeezing your shoulders to keep you still.
You look upon the pale haired man who sits upon the frightening looking throne, which seems to be made from an accumulation of soldered swords. Jagged and glinting in the pale sunlight that streams through the tall windows. Your little head is still confused and overwhelmed, but the crown upon his brow confirms to you that this man who is inspecting you must be an important king.
"Hello, little one". Viserys greets you in a soft hushed voice, as if not to startle you.
You find yourself silently staring back at him, still wary. He looks you over- amethyst eyes glancing across the features of your face, before leaning back into his jagged throne.
"she has your eyes". Viserys simply remarks, a softened smile appears upon his face. Daemon smiles back, taut lipped and eyes glinting like embers. Pleased by his brother's response.
You're ushered quickly afterwards towards the pale haired woman who stands close, two dark haired boys hiding behind her with their mousy doe eyes and cherub faces. You don't particularly want to be touched by strangers right now, but her gentle touch upon your shoulder gives you a little comfort- a stark contrast to your new father's possessive iron grip. She shares a look with him, the two seemingly having a conversation with their eyes alone, but she folds you close to her regardless.
Alicent watches, burning. Eyes, throat, stomach. Churning and boiling.
. Alicent is distant and leering at the beginning. She watches you get coddled and swaddled up by Rhaenyra, her boys tending to you with their little faces and hands. Petting your hair, clumsily wiping away tears, and sharing their toys with you. She struggles with the reality that you are accepted by the king, discontent churning in her stomach.
. She does all she can to avoid you- even going as far to dissuade her children from interacting with you. At the dinner table, she treats you like you are invisible. In the day, she tugs Helaena away after she spots you two in the garden lifting rocks to watch bugs together, and she finds herself glaring at Rhaenyra and Daemon more often than usual.
. However, it is inevitable for her to fall into a maddening descent to ultimately adore you too. No matter how coldly she treats you, you always seem to peer up at her with your big mousy eyes back. Always in soft curiosity. She watches the way you treat helaena so kindly, the two little girls always seemingly playing in their own world and gently handing spiders to one another to save them from getting swatted in the throne room. She also finds herself growing more and more distraught whenever she catches Aegon tormenting you for your lineage, swatting and scolding him whenever he pulls your hair and calls you a bastard. She often finds herself wondering why. She should despise you, hate your very existence in this family, and yet she cannot find herself to.
. Perhaps it is because you too have very little autonomy and freedom in the scenario. Her heart aches whenever she sees you pressing your little face to the glass panes of windows, yearning to capture a glimpse of the oceans horizon. Or scrambling at locked doors and gates to escape, blubbered sobs leaving you as you call for your mother.
. The moment she finally gave into her yandere thoughts is when you bump into her one day, your ornate silk dress and shoes wet and worn down to scrap, running from a knight. You're an inconsolable wreck, having just been carried back in by a fretful knight after catching you bolt out of an unlocked gate outside in the courtyard. He had just been able to catch you once you were knee-deep in seafoam, crying and sobbing to go home.
With your little face buried into her emerald green skirts, she wryly dismisses the guard.
She hesitates, contemplating, before scooping you up from under your arms to hold you like a crying babe. You whimper and sob into her soft coils of chestnut hair, little hands scrambling to cling to her like she were a life raft.
"I want- I want my mummy".
. It was like her breath had frozen in her body. Mummy. You want your mummy.
Emotion swept through her at your words, her own waterline stinging. She understood now. You're trapped here, just like she is. Your mother is gone, just like hers.
Her breath stutters out in a long breath to steady herself, before she cradles the back of your head and tucks you closer. Your little legs cling around her waist as she soothes into your hair, uttering a soft "I know".
Me too.
. After that occurrence, and finding herself reluctant to hand you over to Rhaenyra once the fretful woman found you two, her view of you changed. She no longer ignored you at the dining table, often sending you kind and remorseful glances, her thumb brushing over your cheek tenderly. Tension grows thick between her and Rhaenyra, but she lets it linger. If it means she gets to speak and spend time with you, then let their little war go on longer.
. She often encourages playdates between Heleana and you, along with reading and language lessons with Aemond. Aegon, to her disheartenment, seems to want nothing but to torment you and keep your attention to himself- no matter if it's positive or negative attention. Aegon is often slapped and scolded whenever he treats you poorly, torn into with her protective and scorning words.
"You are not to touch her Aegon, do you understand? ' she'll scold, grabbing him by the ear as he hides away into himself like a door mouse and meekly nods. His eyes burning with tears as he watches you walk away hand in hand with Helaena, Aemond following close by your side.
. Alicent is keen to spoil you for attention, as well as Rhaenyra is. They both want you as their own. Alicent is keen to gift you beautifully ornate leather books with emerald green ink lettering and intricate illustrations, finding delight in your reactions when she gifts them to you herself. She may even gift you a stead of your own, despite Rhaenyra's or daemons dislike for the thought of you on a horse. She'll attempt to convince viserys to have you be allowed to learn to ride horseback on the grounds alongside her sons, just to give you a taste of 'freedom'. Although she may condemn your freedom, hypocrisy at its finest, she still wants to make you as happy as possible. It's also a way for her to make you get along with her children, using you almost as a tool to cement herself a safe standing within the family. You get along so well with them, after all. It'd be a tragedy to tear you away from Helaena, the poor girl will cry for months if that were to happen.
. So although it is a rocky start with Alicent, she eventually softens to you because how can she not? She sees a part of herself in you and grows protective and enraptured. The tension between her and Rhaenary thickens because of it, and it brings a growing conflict between the greens and blacks over where you stand. Eventually you may grow overwhelmed and tired of the war and the fighting and miscommunication and revenge, that you may ultimately take off on your dragon and disappear. Another name in the history books, your whereabouts a mystery, and your name a myth. But we may see where you end up eventually, and where you stand in the dance of the dragons is up to you.
A lot of these headcanons are based early on in season one. I'd like the reader to appear around the time that Daemon married Rhaenyra, so that they'd both be your parents in this scenario, and alicent would be a godmother figure to you. I'm still figuring out the timezone that the reader appears in considering the events that take place, like Aemond losing his eye, so I'd love to hear suggestions!
IF WE NEED MORE FROM YAN MOM RHAENYRA, PLEASE.
❝ 🐉— lady l: I need it too, anon T-T so I made this little hc of her, it was short but I hope you, my dear readers, like it!! Forgive me for any mistakes. <3
❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, overprotection, implied murder, unhealthy platonic relationship.
Rhaenyra never really wanted to be a mother and she always made that clear whenever someone brought up the subject of marriage and children, however she knew it was inevitable but as long as she could postpone these events she would. She just didn't expect to get pregnant from what should have been just one night of lust between two people who now hate each other. But one good thing came out of that night and that was you. She lost something that night but gained something she was sure she could never lose.
Although she was apprehensive during the pregnancy, Rhaenyra decided not to interrupt it, even though she knew full well who her real father was. She never told anyone the truth and it was better that way. She didn't think she would really be happy with a child in her arms until you were born. And Rhaenyra could finally understand why they talked so much that she would never love anyone the way she would love her own child.
When your mother was finally able to hold you in her arms, Rhaenyra felt inexplicable things. Happiness, euphoria, love and maybe possessiveness. She grinned from ear to ear, not caring about your cries, she was much more focused on how she felt. She watched you with tears in her eyes, she really felt happy to have you. Something she was sure she wouldn't do, but she was and she wasn't going to let anything happen to her precious baby.
Rhaenyra wants to be the best mother possible for you, she has done everything you ask and more. She would do anything for her baby because she just wants to see you happy. It's a fact that she would kill and die for you if need be, Rhaenyra would defy even the Seven to protect you. It is her duty to take care of you, after all, she is your mother. Everyone knows how much she cares and loves you deeply and possessively but no one dares say a word about it because they don't want to take her fury.
She is a very proud mother of her baby and anything you do, no matter how small, Rhaenyra will be applauding you with fervor and a look full of pride. It's pretty obvious from everyone's eyes who her favorite child is, although she loves all her other children, you are the one she pays the most attention to and the one she dedicates the most to. You are the one she spoils the most, Rhaenyra is always gifting you, with no special occasion, she loves to dress you up too regardless of your gender, she wants to be there to take care of you always. Your mother will bathe you in jewels and silks, all the best for her baby.
Rhaenyra is extremely possessive of you, she gets jealous very easily if someone spends too much time with her baby. It's not hard to notice when she's jealous, her hateful expression towards whoever has your attention already says a lot for her. She wants your attention for her, your mother wants you to stay glued to her at all times, even though it's completely irrational, she doesn't care. She was the one who gave you life, so it's only fair that you always stay with her. Rhaenyra can and will be annoyed and irritated if anyone spends too much time with you, no matter who it is, she is possessive of her baby and always will be. You are hers, you were born from her and will always belong to your mother.
She is overprotective and combined to her temper and possessiveness can become overwhelming to deal with. Rhaenyra is very concerned about your safety at all times, but her heart rate increases when you ride your dragon. She knows it's natural, you're a Targaryen and it's in your blood, but she still doesn't like it. And if you get hurt badly? If you fall off your dragon? Or what if it hurts you? There are so many possibilities and danger that make her anxious all the time. If it were your mother's choice, you'd be glued to her side like a doll, but she knows you can't do that, so she tries her best to dissuade you from activities that could endanger your life. Rhaenyra knows she can't protect you forever, but as long as she lives, she's sure to do it.
Rhaenyra Targaryen tries to be a good mother as much as possible, and in a way, she is. She wants nothing but happiness for her baby, but she is selfish and she wants that happiness to come true only if she is by your side. You are her baby, the child she loves so much and defends tooth and nail from everyone, if she needed to jump in front of a dragon to save you she would do it without thinking twice but at the same time she will lock you in a tower for you to continue by her side. She goes from 80 to 180 really fast in her obsession with you, there are no qualms when her baby is involved. Rhaenyra does anything for you and all she wants in return is you by her side always, like a beloved child should be with it's mother. She wants only the best for you, and because of that, she feels that no man or woman is good enough for you and they will never be, in her eyes. You don't need anyone but her, right? You will always need her, she will make sure of that, just like she will always need you. After all, Rhaenyra is her mother and mothers should never be separated from their children.
''You are the most precious thing I have ever had in my entire existence and that's why I cannot let you go.''
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