Just Thinking About Grumpy!aemond X Sunshine Niece!reader, That's All

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!

Hello! can you please make yandere platonic şehzade cem (son of fatih sultan mehmet) x only daughter reader?

Platonic father Şehzade Cem and only daughter reader.

~ You were the last child of Şehzade Cem and Gülşirin Hatun, the first and only daughter. You had three older brothers. When you were born, your father Şehzade Cem was very happy. Festivities were organized for days in honor of your birth.

~ During your infancy, your father Cem would often carry you in his arms. Unlike many other princes, he was very careful about being a father to you. When you turned five and started taking lessons, your father was very emotional. He was quickly growing the little baby.

~ He would go out to the garden with you and play games. He would bring you lots of gifts from the places he went. He would call you every young person and ask you to tell him how your day went. He would always listen to you carefully when you talked.

~ When you got sick, your father would worry a lot. He had developed paranoia about losing you because of your illness. He was very careful about your health. And he always tried so hard to make sure you were healthy and happy.

~ Like every Prince, your father Cem's had a dream of ascending to the throne. However, he wanted to seize the throne for you the most. If he ascended to the throne, he could give you a magnificent life using all the means at his disposal.

~ He would never consider marrying you off. You would always remain his little girl. In the version where he could not ascend to the throne, maybe after your father died, your platonic uncle Sultan Selim would take you under his wing. Maybe your cousin Prince Suleyman would develop yandere tendencies towards you. (🤭🤗)

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.''

being the targtower’s youngest sister would include…

pairings: platonic!alicent hightower x daughter!reader, platonic!aegon targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!helaena targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!aemond targaryen x sister!reader

synopsis: what it’s like to be the youngest daughter of the green queen.

includes: reader being the only somewhat normal targtower, i went overboard on aegon’s are we surprised, might be ooc, sorry for how short alicent’s is i wasn’t feeling much inspo for her

a/n: one of my favorite things about alicent’s dynamic with her children is that they all represent a part of her: aegon, being used for politics, helaena, her innocence that she used to have, and aemond, her rage and thirst for power. so i decided to have reader represent alicent’s devotion to her family and her “duty”. hotd is so weird abt character ages so for my sanity aegon is 20, helaena is 18, aemond is 17, and reader is 16 in this. forget daeron pls

Alicent

Alicent has incredibly complicated relationships with her children. They are mirrors of her anguish, but her blood nonetheless. She will protect you and your siblings with her life, if necessary, but she also cannot look you in the eye without a pit of guilt settling in her stomach.

She feels nauseous when Viserys has you betrothed to a Lord from the Crownlands, but apart of her is satisfied with the match, though only because it means you will be allowed to stay in the Red Keep instead of leaving her.

She is just as gentle as she is with Helaena as she is with you. You are one of the only good things that have come from her. She cherishes you. When word of your pregnancy spreads through the Keep, Alicent orders an abundance of maternity gowns for you from Myr. She will always, without fail, offer you a guiding hand when going up large sets of stairs.

By all means, she is not a perfect mother, but she does what she can. She gifts you lots of her own accessories, like the hairnet she wore during Aegon’s second nameday celebration. Helaena is her “dearest love”, and you are her “sweetness.”

Trying to include you in her own private matters is one of the only ways she can spend time with you. She takes you to the Sept with her when she can, though her eyes are always averted from you.

That is one of the other strange things you’ve noticed about your mother; she can never make eye contact with you. Perhaps it is because you are with child just as she was at your age.

When the time comes, she cannot be by your side to hold your hand while you give birth. It’s improper. But she is overjoyed that both you and your son are healthy.

— “You have done well, my sweetness,” Your mother whispers, voice soft and melancholic and warm. Grand Maester Orwyle, bless him, had propped you up on great plush pillows after you’d finished your labors. He’d quietly congratulated you and helped you get comfortable in your bed, then had left you to rest.

She sits on the edge of your mattress, right by your side, thumb gingerly tracing your cheek. The forest green she’s clad in brings out the auburn of her hair. “The babe is a beautiful one. A handsome son for the realm. I am… proud of you.”

Articulating her thoughts has never been her strong point. It is the hour of the owl now. The only sounds you can hear are the padding of raindrops against the tall windows in your chambers and the crackling of the hearth.

“Aegon’s birth came quick for me as well,” She mutters, almost to herself. Peculiarly, she clings to the little ways you are alike to one another; they are fading as the days pass by. Her brows furrow as her mind begins to race.

Your firstborn sons’ births had come with ease. You were both married off far too early in your lives. In girlhood, you had both favored naive stories of brave knights and pretty ladies and romance. You both committed yourself to duty to further the family—

She stops the list she’s making in her head there. Far more resolutely than before, as if putting a wall around herself again, she kisses your forehead and retracts into herself.

“I shall leave you be. Good night.”

Aegon

For Aegon, news of a new sibling is unsurprising. It’s the same old thing to see his mother waddling around the castle, belly swollen. He’s a little indifferent when you’re born.

As a teen, though, Aegon is certainly the type to smack you a bit too hard in the training yard and then shush you, begging for you to hit him just as hard before you wail too loud and one of your mother’s handmaidens hear and alert her of it.

It makes him feel shameful, the first time you see him drunk, stinking of the whores of Flea Bottom and sweat. You promise to not tell anyone of it, if he, in exchange, does not do it again. He still does. You still do not tell.

After the events of Driftmark, you are the one to cut his hair short. Seeing Aemond bloody and bruised had frightened you, caused you to weep in front of the crowd in the great hall, and you’d tearfully asked Aegon if you could sleep in his bed together that night. He forces you to help him trim his waves the next morning as “repayment”, though he did not actually mind it.

You grow closer as you become older. To Aegon, you are the only one who has a semblance of faith in him; your mother was constantly repulsed by him, as was your grandsire and own father. Aemond had given up on him a long, long time ago, and Helaena focused on the children far more.

On his better days, Aegon likes to fly on your dragons together. Seeing you windswept and almost free is strangely satisfying for him; he misses when you both hadn’t been burdened by what your parents had put on you. In the dead of night, he likes to imagine what life would have been like if he hadn’t been forced to marry Helaena, and you your “fat, old husband”, as he put it.

Speaking of, he’d made a great fuss at your wedding. That was the angriest he’d ever saw you; he’d drunk himself half to death at the celebration afterward, made a fool of himself when he got into a fist fight with one of your husband’s brothers. Even the bards had stopped singing to stare at the spectacle. You’d almost lost your voice that night from how loud you’d yelled at him, asking when he’d ever think of anyone but himself, cheeks flushed from deep embarrassment.

“You know of my apprehension when it comes to large events such as these, and yet you cannot steel yourself for one night for my sake? What will you do when Jaehaera is married? Light the castle aflame?”

(You do not know the reason he’d done such a thing was to make such a big scene your consummation ceremony would be an afterthought. That, and the fact he was drunk and angry.)

Some part of him feels guilty when you get pregnant. He knows, deep down, that he had no part in it, and he could not control your fate, no matter if his efforts were weak or strong. But he was still your elder brother, was he not?

One day, while you sit in a rocking chair and he plays with the twins in their nursery, you tell him, “I should like for my son to be like you.” Aegon says, quietly, that yours will be better than he ever was, with you as his mother. He vanishes back into the Street of Silk soon after that.

One of his best qualities is being able to make light of anything, and he does just that after your labors, laughing at how disheveled you are and kissing your forehead. It’s hard not to laugh with him.

Days later, at his coronation, you are the first he looks to for approval, after your mother. The subtle nod you give him makes him wonder how you would’ve reacted if he had been successful in running to Essos. He hopes neither Aemond or Cole told you of what he’d said.

After becoming king, Aegon grows to value your input more and more. On his council, he feels you are the only one to genuinely listen to his concerns and thoughts when it comes to winning the war, and so he ignores the disapproving looks the men around him give him when you come to the meetings.

He does not mention your dragon when discussing battle plans, almost seems to ignore it when Lord Jasper brings you up; your dragon is great and strong, and he knows he will have to utilize you one day, but he refuses to think of it until it’s absolutely necessary. His mind has already been spoiled by what he has seen in brothels and taverns, and he imagines it will only further be by the sights of war. Aegon will do everything he can to avoid what happened to him happening to you.

The assassins Daemon hired infiltrate the Red Keep. They kill his son, leave with his head in a sack. Aegon rages and drinks and rages. He will not allow even you to see his tears, but he cannot stop them from soaking the cloth of your dress when you hug him tenderly, as if afraid he’ll slip through your hands like sand.

Bile floods into his mouth when Otto suggests wheeling his son’s body through the city to secure the approval of the smallfolk. The image of you insisting on going instead of his mother is burned into his brain. “If you will force Helaena, then at least spare Mother and allow me to go,” You’d begged. It does nothing.

As foolish as he can be, Aegon is also not one to forget what others have done for him. You were the only one who’d taken his side against your grandfather. He is glad he was not forced to marry you, glad that he did not force you to a brothel as he did Aemond; he is glad that he has not ruined you.

Aegon’s visits to your child become less and less frequent. He loves the boy dearly, like he’s his own, but he cannot stand to look at him. It’s only a reminder of what happened to his little Jaehaerys.

Rook’s Rest destroys him. He does not even need to tell you that it was Aemond who did it, you just seem to know. There is no way for him to verbalize that he is listening to you while he is in his milk-of-the-poppy induced coma, but he does appreciate the stories you tell him while sitting at his bedside.

He specifically forbids you from looking at him while the Maesters change out his bandages, but he’ll allow you to sit on the other end of his bed with your back to him and hold his unburnt hand while they do so.

— “I feel a monster,” He admits to you one night while you light a candle on the stand next to his bed. You’re clad in a warm nightgown; many whisper that winter is coming, and it’s hard not to notice with how cold the breezes have been lately.

“Why is that?”

“You know why.”

You can’t even fight the scoff that comes from you, and you turn back to him with a frown etched deeply into your face. “You should not. You are king.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “That did not stop our cunt of a brother from burning me like the Conqueror did Harrenhal.”

Huffing, you smooth out your dress, then walk to the other side of the bed and slowly crawl on. You’re careful not to move around too much, so as to not cause him any more injury, and sit next to him, back against the headboard. You bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. His eyes are slightly glossy when they meet yours.

He takes a sharp breath. “…If it had been my decision, I would have named you regent.”

You laugh incredulously at that, shaking your head. “They set aside Mother for Aemond. They would have forced you to do the same.”

Aegon raises his remaining silver brow. “I am not as feeble and weak-minded as Father. I speak truly. It is you I trust the most.”

Helaena

Helaena is perhaps the least expressive out of all of your siblings, but even she felt happy when Mother’s babe had come a girl.

She does genuinely appreciate that you do not judge her and make fun of her behind her back; she has never felt like she has been able to fit in with her ladies-in-waiting.

As mature as she is, Helaena does like to indulge girlishly sometimes; she enjoys matching her gowns with you, as well as hairstyles and (light, so as to not overstimulate her) jewelry.

Observant and introspective, Helaena also has a great memory. If you tell her you’ve had a fascination with direwolves as of late, or have particularly enjoyed reading about Valyrian history, suddenly the dresses she gifts you will subtly be embroidered with subtle little wolf icons or ancient Valyrian imagery. She is very thoughtful.

Unbeknownst to most, she also gives very good advice. There have only been a handful of times her council has not helped you. Wise and empathetic, she is, and she is always willing to listen to you explain your troubles while she plays with one of her bugs.

It pains her to see you inflicted with the same fate as she was; married off to a man you had no love for, forced to be his incubator. Just as it was during Aegon’s coronation, her head is bowed at your wedding. She does not want to look at your doom.

Despite this, she is perhaps the most supportive of you during your pregnancy; she likes suggesting names for the babe as well as crafting him little clothes for him to wear when he is born.

Although you do not understand her prophecies, it does quell her anxieties a bit that you at least listen to them instead of dismissing them like all else do.

When noise gets to be too much for her, you are the first to cover her ears with your hands, guiding her to the lush gardens of the Keep to breathe. You are the only person she has a likeness of boundaries with; when she does not want to be touched, you leave her be. It’s why you are the sibling she is fondest of.

Her hand immediately flies to grasp yours when Meleys erupts from the boards at Aegon’s coronation. The look on her face had confused you. She’d appeared fearful, but simultaneously also put at ease, as if she’d known that this was going to happen.

After Blood and Cheese, she cannot find rest at night. She takes to pacing about the Red Keep, almost looking like a ghost; pale and silver and paranoid. Despite the fact that it distracts you from your own slumber, you insist on her staying in your chambers with you. She still paces, never sleeps. Some nights you even walk with her around the castle.

— “This one will not live,” She blurts out randomly, interrupting you from one of your tangents, confusing you. She never interrupts you, always listens to whatever your qualms are for the day without complaint.

“What?”

You feel like you’re about to burst; partly from the grand lamb you had for your midday meal and from how heavy the babe in your belly feels. She seems surprised that the words had actually come out of her mouth.

She pushes her face closer to the fly she has somehow managed to capture in her palm, a perturbed glint in her eye. “I do not think this one will survive.”

You decide to indulge her, tilting your head to the side from where you sit across from her, lounging on a velvet sofa. “Why is that?”

“The art of the spider is subtle. It shall trap another in its web.”

(Later that day, you can only wonder if she was speaking of Lord Vaemond after he’d been beheaded by Prince Daemon from behind.)

Aemond

Aemond can barely remember the day you were born, much less the day a celebration had been held for Mother’s pregnancy.

Alike to his siblings, Aemond is not one to forget what you did for him when you were children; how you always offered to take him on rides on your dragon before he’d claimed Vhagar, how you were the only one uninvolved in the “pink dread” incident, how you cried for him after he lost his eye.

After the loss of his eye, Aemond begins to put a wall around himself. Unfortunately, that does include you. Before Driftmark, you were closest with him, but afterward, you had slowly drifted toward Aegon; nevertheless, he shows his affection for you in his own way.

However, he does keep the little gifts you’ve given him over the years safely hidden in his chambers, away from the eyes of curious maids and servants, like the eyepatch you’d embroidered a little Vhagar in in the weeks after his eye was cut out.

When Vaemond’s head is cut off, Aemond immediately places a hand on the pommel of his sword, lest Daemon himself attack you next. When he becomes regent, he is the one who orders you to be given a sworn protector. He is the one who’d help you learn Valyrian when you struggled, even after all your lessons.

Aemond never, never shows much affection to anyone in the family publicly, but he doesn’t mind it if you place a hand on his forearm or his own hand. He prefers it if you keep things like cheek or forehead kisses private in the sanctity of your or his own room.

In his immediate family, you are perhaps the most normal of all, which does make him seek out your company the most. The mornings after he seeks out Madame Sylvi’s assistance are the mornings he spends the most time with you. The shame of it all almost eats him alive, and you are a welcome distraction.

Additionally, the one-eyed prince does genuinely appreciate how you show your devotion to the family, though of course he’d never verbalize it. Almost every training yard session he has, you sit on the balcony, embroidering a dress or two while he swings his sword at Criston’s morningstar.

Your wedding to some old Crownlands lord was a memorable one, mostly because of when Aegon had pinned your new brother-by-law to a table and began beating him senselessly. Aemond was the one who had pried him off, mercilessly tugging him by the collar of his doublet away from the man.

You become pregnant quick. Aemond says that when your son is born, he will bring him to meet Vhagar himself, stating that a “new Targaryen babe should learn the ways of his predecessors”.

As the moons pass by, the Maesters order you to bedrest. Your elder brother likes to visit during his free time, sometimes bringing a book with him to read or nothing, just to converse with you quietly. You are the only “quiet” Aemond has ever known.

When Rhaenys bursts through the boards at Aegon’s coronation, Aemond’s palm finds your wrist, gently grasping it with his long fingers.

Just as your mother does, you begin to shun Aemond after Luke’s murder. It does not make him resent you as much as it does Alicent, but it does make him spiral a bit quicker.

Many a time have you slept in Aemond or Aegon’s bed because of nightmares. The only time he’s ever slept in yours was the night Aegon had found him in the brothel with Sylvi. You had not been awake when he’d crawled into bed with you, just laying beside you and shutting his eye. He makes sure to leave before you wake. Aemond does not know that you were quite aware of his presence, but had chosen not to say anything. If Aemond of all people had decided to find sleep in your bed, something awful must’ve happened. Why take that moment of respite from him?

He knows that you know he burned Aegon, but he does not ever bring it up in a conversation with you, much less acknowledge it. However, Aemond is observant. He notices the fearful glint in your eye when he is around you, now, but this is what he has always wanted, has he not? To rule?

— Aemond is with you the morn after Blood and Cheese, standing in one of the Red Keep’s balconies as you watch the wagon carrying your mother and Helaena depart. Your eyes are sunken in from crying, cheeks swollen; you wear a veil of mourning yourself, though there is no crown settled on your head. The way you lean over the railing to peer at the ground, the way your back is hunched, the way you grieve so openly.. it does not befit a princess. It does not befit someone from the Targaryen family, someone who is supposed to use honeyed words and cunning tricks to protect themself from the environment of King’s Landing.

You sniffle. “Where were you?”

Aemond’s eye goes wide. A deep pit was already settled in his stomach, but it only seems to get worse at your questioning. Even his throat seems to tighten up, make it impossible for him to even choke out an answer.

“When news of… the boy spread,” You begin, “I went to find you myself. But you were not in your chambers, nor in the library. Where were you?”

“Patrolling.” It’s an obvious lie. He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth, jaw clenching immediately. There was no use in patrolling at night, when he could barely see anything. His hand unconsciously squeezes the stone railing.

He’s ready to leave with haste when you nod to yourself, face blank and detached from reality. “…I won’t tell anyone,” You mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. “Wherever you were.”

Marie Antoinette (2006) + Headpieces

Marie Antoinette's headpieces.

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Requested by Anon

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Request: Anonymous asked: "I know that you’re bedridden but I came to bother you." Rhaenyra x sister reader please

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You sat up as the door to your bedroom opened. Rhaenyra in her nightgown, followed by her nervous handmaiden let themselves in.

“I know that you’re bedridden but I came to bother you.” Rhaenyra said with a smile. She had a large familiar book of stories under one arm, a jug and two cups balanced in the other hand, the cups clamped under her arm against her side. She threw herself down on the heavily cushioned seat that had a permanent place beside your bed. The cushions were own and thin from the many visitors that came to wish the poor dragon princess well.

“I find it a relief that you are not the maester.” You said honestly. Rhaenyra gestured at the small table between your bed and her seat. The foods set out from dinner, that you refused to touch, were cleared away and replaced with foods your sister knew you favoured.

You still believe that they make you sick?” Rhaenyra asked as she poured you a drink from the jug she had brought with her. Taking it gratefully you drank deeply before answering.

“I have noticed that when I begin to feel better they fetch a specific medicine that had me ill again.” you said quietly. Rhaenyra nodded as she opened the book she had brought with her. 

“Perhaps I shall stay here then. Refuse to leave you!” She said boldly. You laughed and accepted a plate of food from the handmaiden. “We could ask for you to… to rest at Dragonstone.” 

“I have tried that. Last time I was getting better. Father started spending a lot of time with me and let Lyonel Strong take over leading the council.” You muttered. Rhaenyra looked up from the book, she’d been thumbing through looking for the story she knew you liked that was in the first quarter of the book. 

“Every time you get better Father does spend a lot of time with you… Do you think they keep you sick to keep him focused?” Rhaenyra asked you seriously. 

“I do not know.” You admitted. She gave you a sympathetic smile and leaned over to hold your hand.

“Corlys and Rhaenys arrive in a few days for the tourney. Perhaps they will agree to take you to Driftmark. We could say the sea air helps you to feel better.” Rhaenyra offered. You smiled appreciatively. 

“I asked for that before. Corlys offered and assured Father that Laena would be my loyal companion. The maesters wouldn’t allow it.” You muttered. Rhaenyra scoffed and shook her head.

“I shall speak to father. We shall ask Corlys and Rhaenys. Their Maesters will see what they think they should do and we shall see what the maesters at the Keep are up to.” Rhaenyra said quickly. She gave you a smile and a determined nod before reaching to refill your now-empty cup. You could see her mind turning over her ideas and plans as she finally found the page she was looking for and settled in to read aloud.

Tag list:

@the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn @geekyandgay98 @savagemickey03 @evattude @kaitieskidmore1 @sabrinasstar @darklyndivinely

BABY SISTER: 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

The Red Keep hummed with quiet excitement, a rare gentleness settling over the halls as the news spread. The queen had given birth to another child, a girl, and the brothers were brought to see their sister for the first time.

Aegon, stomped ahead, his silver-blond hair a wild mess that matched the glint of mischief in his violet eyes. “I don’t see why everyone’s so fussed,” he grumbled, casting a look over his shoulder at Aemond, who followed more cautiously. “She’s just a babe. Probably all wrinkly and loud.”

Aemond didn’t reply. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect. His small hand clutched the edge of his older brother’s sleeve, his wide eyes taking in every detail as they approached the cradle where their sister lay sleeping. Aegon made a face as they neared. “See? She’s not doing anything interesting.”

Despite his words, Aegon leaned over the cradle’s edge, his annoyance more curious than he let on. Aemond stood on his toes beside him, peering over, almost shyly. Inside the cradle was the tiniest babe they’d ever seen, her silver hair softer than the finest silk, curling slightly on her tiny head. Her cheeks were pink and round, and she slept peacefully, her breaths soft and steady.

Aegon wrinkled his nose. “She’s so small.” He reached out and gave her a gentle poke on the cheek. “Hey, wake up.”

Aemond gasped softly, his eyes wide. “Don’t!” he whispered, though he was just as curious. He glanced back down at her, nervous that Aegon might have hurt her.

The babe stirred, her little nose scrunching up. Aegon watched in surprise as her eyelids fluttered open slowly, revealing the same violet eyes that both brothers shared. She blinked up at them, her gaze drifting between Aegon’s smirk and Aemond’s wide-eyed stare. Then, as if recognizing them in some deep, instinctual way, the corners of her tiny mouth curled into a soft, gentle smile.

Both boys froze, their hearts seeming to stop at the same moment. Aegon, who had been ready to declare his sister boring and unimportant, suddenly found himself captivated by that smile. His earlier irritation melted away, replaced with something warm and protective he didn’t quite understand. “She’s… she’s smiling at us,” he whispered, almost in awe.

Aemond, who had been hesitant, felt his heart swell. He reached out a tiny hand, his fingers barely brushing her soft, pudgy one. “She’s beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder.

The babe made a small, contented sound, her tiny hand curling instinctively around Aemond’s finger. Her eyes, so large and innocent, stayed fixed on her brothers, as if already knowing how important they would be in her life. Aegon reached out too, letting her grab his finger with surprising strength. The moment was simple, yet so lovely. The two boys stared down at their sister, completely captivated, forgetting any doubts or teasing words.

Aegon, who had been ready to dismiss her, now felt a fierce surge of love and protectiveness. “I guess… I guess she’s not so bad,” he admitted, but there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.

Aemond just nodded, still entranced, his heart swelling with a love he had never felt before. “We’ll take care of her,” he said softly, a promise in his quiet words.

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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.”

“You love flowers, madame, and so I have a bouquet to give you; this pleasure house is yours.” - Louis XVI presents the key to the Petit Trianon (hanging on a ribbon and sparkling with 531 diamonds) to Marie Antoinette, 1774