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lady-ashfade · 8 months

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Hi could you please do yandere house of dragon x Helena twin and when Luke takes Aemond eye he also accidentally cut reader neck, and when they everyone’s gathered Alicent going crazy, reader faints making everyone extremely worried. Luke felt terrible ?

More Then A Eye

Yan!Various!HOTD Characters x Fem!Reader

Made this were the reader was the only one injured because that makes it more fun, and also might make a part 2 so that will come into play if I make that. Also feel like if it was just the reader it would be more interesting.

Warnings: Blood, gore, knifes, violence, yandere actions, reader being injured, me going slight into-depth on how the reader gets cut. Pretty much the whole thing.

Reader wants the family to all get along while the chaos is going on. She is sweetheart like her sister, but she doesn’t have the sight as her sister does. So she notices most of what’s happening, the other half of her sister.

Reader stops Aemond from getting picked on when she’s near because she has the power to make the boys calm, and the rest of the family at that. So she can get mad and upset so aemond feels at ease when his sister is around. But all the boys long for her affection and love, so they all cling to her.

The funeral is a very sad time for her since she loved Laena and the thought of her cousins losing their mother. Or her uncle losing his wife.

So to the readers surprise when she see aemond and jace have a small moments it brings a warmth to her chest in this dark time. Hoping that this was the gods way to bring her family together, but her hopes soon vanished when night came.

She had heard the others walk through the hallways as she tried to fall asleep, opening her door and their whispering calls. They got her attention and claimed someone stole vhagar so she went with them.

“I think we need to wake up our parents.” But her words were shoot down as they dragged her through the halls and down through the castle.

As soon as she saw the white hair she knew it was aemond and she wished she stayed in bed. The kids started to shout, while aemond replied in a time she never heard before, not shy. But proud and filled with venom.

When the fight broke out and all the reader could do was scream and cry for them to stop, but her body froze up. As soon as aemond grabbed ahold of Luke she ran towards him and grabbed ahold of his arm.

“Please, do not hurt them anymore. We- We can all stop this madness,” she looked around at all of them with tears. “Let us all be family.” Aemond was so caught up in his own wrath he pushed the reader back so she wouldn’t get in his way.

He threw Luke to the ground after calling jace and Luke “Strongs.” Then throwing the younger boy to the ground. Jace pulled out a small knife and the reader gasp as they fought again, but the knife was thrown elsewhere.

She watched as Luke crawled to the knife with a interesting to hurt aemond so her body moved on its own. “Aemond!” Just as she shouted she was cut off with the sound of flesh being cut with his blade and gushing sounds. They watch the horror in front of their eyes go down. Blood rolling down her throat and gasped of failed attempts of air when she fell to the ground with her hands clawing at her own throat.

Luke dropped the knife and steps back in disbelief of what was happening. Aemond caught his sister and laid her down in his arms trying to stop the bleeding. “How could you! I’ll kill you! I’ll feed you to my dragon.” He started to cry as did the others.

“What’s going on here?” The guards shouted as the walked up on the children and soon realized the princess. They took her in their arms and sent for the maester and the king at once. Everyone soon garnered in the hall for what had happened.

Alicent screamed when she first saw her daughter and it was loud that everyone in the castle heard. Running to her daughter with tears in her eyes she started to move her hair out of the way as the maester worker. Viserys screamed at the guards to answer who had done it but he wasn’t expecting his own grandsons. Aemond sat at his mothers side while handing the readers hand. Healana looked at the ground with a sob. She had saw it in a nightmare once’s that felt so real, this exact moment.

The boys stayed back and far away. Luke not even daring to look at the reader knowing he caused her harm and pain. All of them wondering if she would be dead soon. Alicent was so focused she didn’t even pay attention to anything but the reader being life and to keep her that way.

When rhaenrya entered it was hell to pay. Reader had just got done with her stitches while still knocked out cold as her body tried to heal itself. “You,” Alicent screamed and pointed at the princess. “You’re filthy sons did this.” Rhaenrya had not see the reader yet as she looked at her sons. When her eyes looked onto the readers body her eyes went wide and looked back at her sons not believing a word.

“They did this?” She asked around the room as the boys tensioned up. “It’s true, jace brought the knife to the fight and his brother, Luke, did the deed.” Cole spiked with a snare. Luke tugged at his mother’s sleeves, “But I did not mean too. Aemond was going to kill jace! The reader got in the way.” All the children started to scream their own defense as everyone watched.

The king was mad but not at the children but at the guards for not doing their jobs. Saying this would have been avoided if they were watched closely. “She would not want us to fight and surely you all know it.” He turned to look at young Luke in the eyes. “I know you did not mean it boy, things can be forgiven.” Alicent looked at rhaenrya as she smiled softly and pull her sons behind herself and listened to Viserys plead of forgiveness and family.

“He deserves no forgiveness,” Alicent stood up and let go of your hand. “The knife was brought to the fight and one of our children could have been killed- Y/n almost died, or might not make it.” She inched closer with a glare and her hands made up into a fist. “Our little girls life being stolen can be..Forgiven?”

“It is what’s right! I love her with my heart but it has been decided, no more blood needs to be shed. Do not let your hatred blind you Alicent.” She stared at him as he spoke so calmly and started to walk away. Her eyes went to the dagger on his hip and her mind filled with red to see her daughter avenged. Moving quickly she took the blade from his side and held it up going for Luke.

“If you will not see to justice then I shall.” Rhaenrya pushes her sons back and caught Alicent before she got closer. They held each other, pushing and pulling to get what they wanted. “Another insult to my family and you get away with it? Just under falling under that pretty foot. It is not far, where is duty? Where is sacrifice?” Rhaenrya looked at the blade as it reflected off the fire light.

She was about to say something but a loud metal sound caught them off guard. They both looked back as the reader laid on the floor with her eyes open and reached out for them. Her head shaking as she tried to speak out but nothing was coming out. Aemond coming to her aid and helping her up but she had used her the rest of her strength to get out of the chair. Reader looked at her brother for help to help and speak her mind, pleading to do the right thing.

“No more blood shed mother.” His spoke but his eyes do not match his words. “She does not wish it.” Helaena came rushing down to her twins side and held her hand. Alicent looked back at rhaenrya one last time before pulling away and dropping the knife. Slowly inching back she looked around at her husband, only with anger and devastation.

Everyone was quiet as she ordered someone to carry her daughter out of the room with the maester. The kids walked with her and held onto their sisters hand as she fell back into a deep sleep. No one could speak a word as they all stood stocked.

For years that was the last time rhaenrya and her kids saw their aunt, along with Daemon. But letters where sent in private from the reader to all of them with updates and her forgiveness. But luke refuses to open and read them as his guilt rotted away at his soul. But each week for years new letters still came from her. The next time they all saw eachother, they all grown so much. But they all remembered the first acted of war.

One side trying to make amends and the other full of revenge.

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hiatuswhore · 1 year

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♕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʇɐᴚ ʇǝǝɹʇS ǝɥ⊥

♕ A/N: If you cannot see it clearly, the title says, The Prince and The Street Rat. I really enjoyed writing this. No shade to other HOTD writers but all the plots be relatively the same so I tried to shake it up. Feedback pleaseeee.

♕ SUMMARY: The world works in mysterious ways and so does the residents of Kings Landing. One never knows what they find in the alleyways and rooftops. Whores, drunks, knights, thieves, sometimes even Princes.

♕ WORD COUNT: 5K

♕ WARNING: None🕺🏽

previous — Masterlist — next

Kings Landing. Home to the vile, cruel, and everything in between. You fall somewhere in the middle, a gray area—child thief. But where do petty thieves and struggling patrons fall in that spectrum? A child struggling to eat as the Targaryens sit in their fancy castle with more food and resources than necessary. This reality plagues you on the most challenging days and hardens you on the coldest nights.

"Stop that girl!" A man screamed, expertly sliding beneath a merchant table. You duck down an alleyway. Your heart hammering in your chest as you struggle to keep your hood from blocking your eyes. A sea of splintering colors and faces blend into a mix of nothingness, your focus evading the angry voice behind you. As you march forward, you turn a final corner, your eyes over your shoulder.

"Hey, watch it!" You grimace at the blinding pain, stumbling backward. In front of you, a boy groans, rubbing his forehead. His tunic worth more than everything you own, and his boots resembling a pair you stole a few moons back. He carries nothing visible to the eyes, nothing to quick swipe.

"You ran into me," He scoffs. Rolling your eyes, you push past him with your shoulder. In one swift motion dipping your hand in his pocket, nothing. His hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back, allowing you to skim his other—still nothing, "Are you thick in the skull, girl?"

"No, I'm in a hurry, so bugger off, would you!" You swing your hand connecting with his cheek, the smack echoing through the busy road. He releases your wrist with wide eyes, ignoring his face; glancing over his shoulder, your eyes widen at the sight of the Gold Cloaks. They carefully scan the road as you duck down a deadend, planting your back against the wall.

"Prince Aemond, it is not safe for you to be beyond the gates unattended," Narrowing your eyes the boy grins. He removes his hood with a smug fire in his eyes as you stare at his pure silver hair. You have indeed done it this time. You struck a Prince—a Targaryen Prince. Every part of your brain screams to make a run for it, mentally preparing to scale the wall behind you as the Prince commands the Gold Cloaks to seize you, but none of that happens. Instead, the Prince merely chuckles under the knight's gazes as you stand behind them.

"Of course, Ser Harwin. Will you escort me back?" He says. The knight nods his head, turning toward the way of the castle. Aemond does not move immediately, and the two of you stare at each other. You offer a half nod before turning to the wall, carefully climbing it before disappearing altogether.

That night you laid in your hammock staring up at the stars, the moment still fresh in your mind. You struck the Prince, and he—he helped you? Shaking off the thought sleep found you almost faster than the painfully bright sun the following day. Walking through the market with most of your coils and curls pulled into two tight braids, the coins you stole the day prior ready to purchase today's breakfast.

"Thank you, Daltis. Tell Cayde I said hi," You say, handing him your coins as you turn toward the stairs with bread and a pail of water. The sun beams restlessly as you walk without a care through the streets. An occasional hello to locals who know you and a few choice words between yourself and the patrons you have stolen from. Nearing the closest thing you can call home comes to a halt as the familiar tight grip holds your bicep.

"Oh, come on, Lord Strong. I didn't even do anything today," Your matter-of-fact tone earns a sigh with a pointed stare. He backs you up onto a wall, a soft look in his eyes despite the patronizing finger he points at you.

"Kid, you keep it up, and I will have to deal with you. Here. Stop stealing. Do I make myself clear?" He holds out a pouch to you. Rolling your eyes, you snatch it from his hands.

"You keep doing this, and I keep telling you—I'm not your problem," You fail at pushing past him the strength of a ten-year-old girl, nothing compared to a grown man. A huff leaves your lips as you glare daggers up at him, "You're not my father, okay? Just leave me alone."

Harwin stares down at your small stature; opening his mouth, he closes it as nothing leaves his lips. He takes a step back, unblocking your path. You roll your eyes a final time before marching off. Back at the dead-end alley, you scale the wall, balancing carefully as you run to the next roof. There you plop onto your hammock, closing your eyes and placing your foot on the ground to slow the rocking. The busy chatter of the city melding into one indiscernible mix of movement.

"Ow," You mutter, opening your eyes just as another rock soars through the air—a few feet short of the hammock. Then, as another flies whizzing past your head, you stomp over to the roof's edge. Down below stands the boy—the Prince, his hood covering his hair. "Are you crazy?"

"Says the one who struck a Prince?" He asks, raising an eyebrow as you roll your eyes, muttering touché. You stare down at him, furrowing your eyebrows as he stares back at you.

"Have you come to stalk me in the streets, or do you need something, my prince?" Your mocking tone earns a dry chuckle as he shakes his head.

"Show me how to get up there. I saw you go down the deadend, but I can't figure out how you got up," Aemond says, furrowing your eyebrows. It's now your turn to chuckle.

"And why exactly would I do that?" You ask, watching as he puffs up his chest. So many people in the streets ignore the two of you—just another pair of Kings Landing's bastards.

"Because as your Prince, I command it," He says, his voice cracking as he squares his shoulders. You tilt your head back as a loud laugh leaves your lips, his stiff stature faltering.

"Oh really? You Targaryens are a riot. What's next shall I curtsy and fetch you a cup of wine? Oh, let me apologize before you bring your dragon and melt me from existence," You taunt, resting your chin on your elbow that you prop against the edge. His eyebrows pull as he clenches his jaw, all semblance of amusement leaving him as his eyes sharpen.

"How dare you! You're nothing but a stupid street rat!" He exclaims, scoffing. You spit down at him, narrowing your eyes before returning to your hammock. Mentally scolding yourself for once again disrespecting the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You ignore his demands for you to return, despite the possibility of dire consequences.

"Bugger off, you boorish oaf!" You yell. After dodging a few more rocks, he throws up at you, he seemingly gives up. You are fuming at the nerve of him. Even as you sit high above him, he finds a way to look down on you, a stupid street rat.

The pouch of coins Ser Harwin gave you affords new furs, a cheap tent, and a week worth of food. You do your best to ration the remaining funds while looting unsuspecting patrons. It had been a fortnight since the Prince's last visit, and you did your best to not dwell on the unpleasant conversation. A huff leaves your lips as you walk back toward your home with empty pockets. The Gold Cloaks litter the streets leaving you little to no opportunity to make a quick coin. You stop by Mysaria to look for a bounty hunting job, but for the first time in your work with her, she has nothing. Not a single person to hunt down for owed funds, the Gold Cloaks ‘cracking down’ on crime.

“Dammit, Harwin,” You mutter, taking a deep breath as you turn down your road. The clear plan for the next few moons now squandered to mere weeks. Rounding the building into the alley, you pause, eyebrows furrowing as Aemond lifts his head. His face tomato red with his back against the wall as he sits on the ground. You watch as he sniffles before looking back down, hiding within his cloak. Closing your eyes, you whisper royal problems only bring trouble. Repeating it like a mantra in your mind as though you fear it will leave you.

You open your eyes immediately, groaning at the tug in your chest. While the Prince happens to be a douche, you are not. You walk over, begrudgingly joining him on the ground. Neither of you says a word at the other’s side or even looks at the other. Just mindlessly watching people pass by on their daily tasks. The silence setting ease between you, laughing as a woman screams at her husband, as a man fails to flirt with a woman, as Gold Cloaks patrol with an allusive, almost lurking nature. So many moving parts in such a small area.

“Hey, uh—if you want, I can teach you how to climb up—but only if you promise not to tell anyone,” You say, turning to him with a tight-lipped smile. Then, for a second, you both just stare, furrowing your eyebrows in an awkward huff before turning away. A pause ensues before Aemond lifts his fist toward you, “Deal.”

You bump his fist with yours before rising to your feet. At first, you both chuckle nervously as silence dances between you both. Then, you scale the wall, giving him a view of how to do it. Then, you laugh as he insists on being able to do it after just a demonstration alone.

“You know it’s okay—I failed plenty of times befor—“ You say leaning on the wall at his third failed attempt.

“I can do it myself!” He growls, glaring daggers at you. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you huff. Why the hell did I do this? You cross your arms, scowling at the back of his head as he fails a fourth time. He hunches down, hands on his knees, as he pants heavily. Turning his head, he catches your gaze, visibly sinking at the sight.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. My brother and nephews they—“ He inhales sharply, fiddling with his fingers with sunken eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, watching him rock on the balls of his feet. A poignant stare in his eyes before his eyebrows pull together, and he scoffs, “They gave me a pig.”

“A what?” You furrow your eyebrows as he avoids your gaze, a look of defeat in his eye.

“My dragon egg didn’t hatch. They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig. Pink dread, they called it,” He murmured, staring at the ground, leaving you to sigh heavily. Your own taunts rang in your ears at the sight of him, "They all laughed at me."

“You want to talk about it or learn how to climb the wall?” You ask, chewing on your inner lip. He huffs, biting his lower lip before pushing it into a pout as he gives the wall a look over, “Can you please show me how to climb the wall?”

“Okay,” You nod. Joining Aemond's side, you point to the chipped-in crevice. You use your left foot to boost off and swing your right leg over the wall. He tries again, getting the motion down but not swinging his leg high enough. On his second try, you nearly cheer prematurely as he almost makes it.

“Oh no, no, you’re going to get it. I promise,” You exclaim, folding your hands in front of your face with a nervous smile. Aemond sighs, running up, freezing as his leg goes over, and he sits on the wall. A large smile breaks across your face as his jaw drops. “You did it!”

“Yeah,” He chuckles. You direct him which way to cross before following behind him. At the top, you freeze as he stands in the center of your things, glancing around curiously.

“Uh yeah, this is me—“ You massage the back of your neck with a sheepish grin. Never have you brought anyone into your space, let alone a Prince. He points to your hammock, looking at you. Nodding your head, you watch as he sits staring at you. “The Prince and the Street Rat. We are disgustingly cliché friends. So how does this work?”

“I think we could figure it out,” He says, chuckling as his confidence glimmers through his meek exterior. You join him in the hammock, looking up at the sky.

“I despise your family,” You say. Neither of you turn to the other as he shrugs, “That’s fair.”

“No Royal drama,” You say, turning your head toward him. He meets your gaze nodding vehemently. Placing your foot on the ground, you swing the hammock, “So essentially, you’re saying your family is as awful as I imagine them to be.”

“Not necessarily. Not my mom. My brother and nephews mock me, father ignores me, and Rhaenyra has never seemed to care much for us,” Aemond lists off, his voice wavering as he stares at the waning sun.

“Sometimes us forgotten children have to pave our way on our own,” You shrug your shoulders, watching the sky as he eyes you. “You should start heading home, Aemond. Remember, no royal drama.”

“Of course. I will try to visit you tomorrow,” He says, crouching down to descend the wall. Opening your mouth to warn him of the particular way to go down, a loud grunt stops you.

“You okay?” He immediately responds, leaving you to giggle silently as he scurries away.

Keeping his word, he visits the next day and the day after, almost as if it were a part of his royal duties. He always arrived with something he conveniently non longer needed anymore, so thought you’d want it. The gestures were kind, but an ache raged in your chest.

“Aemond, thank you for everything. Truly but you have to stop bringing me things,” You say softly, taking his hand in your lap.

“Why?” He frowns, and you grit your teeth, speaking slowly, “I feel more like your charity case than your friend, and I detest it.”

“Oh, my apologies, I never meant—I’m sorry,” He says, casting his gaze down as he fiddles with the ends of his tunic.

“Don’t fret over it. You’re my friend and will continue to be so,” You shrug with a lopsided smile as you stare at each other. Your grin grows as he nudges your arm, whining for you to move over. “For what? So you can practice brooding as I relax?”

“I actually brought a book,” You playfully snore as he explains the philosophy text and his interest in the subject matter.

“You will one day wish you taught yourself this,” Aemond says, opening his book, and you lean back, still looking up at him.

“I’m busy learning the art of surviving. I’ll take street smarts every time,” You say matter-of-factly. He scoffs, a grin on his lips as he shakes his head.

“You’re smart. You could do more,” Aemond’s optimism earns a chuckle that does not meet your eyes.

“Don’t be ignorant, Aemond. It is so easy to dream so frivolously when the world was built for you,” He frowns, nodding his head cautiously as your words sink in. The visits rarely deviate from the same pattern, but you both savor each and every one. Even if the entire visit consists of bickering, the next visit carries on as though nothing ever happened.

For a time, this carried on until word spread through the kingdom about the death of Laena Velayron. The Aunt of his nephews, Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys. His presence in Driftmark required him to support his family. As you awaited his return, you continued your usual daily schedule, and without a doubt, it was odd not hearing the short Prince grunting up the wall. Or laughing at his seemingly always disheveled hair.

When word traveled of their return, nothing came for you from Aemond. For a time, you grew bitter, the sting of his absence and the death of Ser Harwin feeding a deep seeded disappointment. Rounding the corner down your street, you falter while approaching your alley. A Gold Cloak stands at the opening as another climbs the wall.

“What the hell!” You mutter as a replacement Harwin stands before you. When he calls your name, you cut back to make a break for it, only to find another Gold Cloak behind you. Your heart hammers in your chest as they lead you through the streets, the sun waning as your mind explores every punishment ever sentenced to thieves.

Worst case scenario, they take a hand, walking through the Red Keep a loud ringing sound in your ears. You wish Ser Harwin would round the corner as he often did and assure his peers he could take it from there. Instead, your breaths are shaky as your eyes sting from dryness and your lips burn from wetting them too much. Through the massive halls, you hold yourself carefully, clearly standing out from others in the corridor. Down a second hall, the Cloak stops at a vast door knocking twice before saying, “Your grace, we’ve come with the girl.”

“Come in,” A woman’s voice calls out, cautiously pushing the door open, you enter at a slow—cautious pace. The Queen stands with furrowed eyebrows at the sight of you, her green dress more expensive than your life. Aemond sits by the fire blocking his face as he stares forward. You glare daggers at the side of his head, the room's coziness doing little to ease the tension in the air.

“You liar! You promised!” You seethe, your face scrunching as the Queen gasps.

“You may not address the Prince like that girl!” Alicent exclaims, her eyes furious as you stare blankly at her.

“No, mother, it is okay. This is her, remember? She’s my friend—the one I told you about,” He says, turning toward you. He offers a weak smile as your face falls. The prominent stitching draws attention to a little over a quarter of his face. “The one I told you I want to help.”

The Queen’s annoyance dissolves as she looks at you, Aemond’s tales of your life plaguing her thoughts. She places her hands on your shoulders, an overbearing expression oozing in a suffocating waft of pity. “There’s a place for you here in the court if you ever decide you want it.”

“I don’t,” You say immediately, keeping your gaze on the floor. Alicent joins your side with a motherly shine in her eyes as she looks at you.

“I know. I just want you to know the offer is always there,” Alicent's words soothing as she excuses herself, leaving you to glare at her son.

“You promised,” You whine, hanging your head. Aemond swallows thickly while you bounce on the balls of your feet.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to see you, but as of late, I always have someone watching me,” Aemond speaks barely above a whisper when he turns to you. For a second time, you take in his sewn-up eye, red and puffy. Then, your glare dissolves, eyebrows furrowing while taking two cautious steps forward.

“What the hell happened?” You ask slowly as a servant stands by the window, avoiding looking at either of you.

“Like you said, my family sucks. That bastard Lucerys took my eye because I gained a dragon,” He says. Your eyes widen at his words, sending a smile across his lips.

“You finally got your dragon. See now, you truly are a pompous Prince,” You curtsy mockingly with a wide smile. In the back of your mind, the defeated, teary-eyed Prince you have befriended now finally getting his heart's only desire. “I’ll forgive you this time, only because you got your dragon. Which one is yours?”

“The biggest one, Vhagar,” He says, grinning as you take his hand, offering a squeeze. You do not stay long, nor do you miss the Queen’s presence by the door. She had been listening.

“(Y/n),” She calls out. Stopping in your tracks, you offer her a terrible curtsy. You bite the inside of your cheek, saying yes, your grace. “To my knowledge, you have made my son very happy. I am more grateful than you know. I understand refraining from the court, but I am Queen. I must ensure my son's safety, and hanging with you on rooftops is not good enough. Your belongings have been moved to the Inn Keep not far from the castle's main gates. Word is already spreading of his mutilation; he will no longer be able to continue venturing deep into the city. So you will be accessible to him outside the main gates. You may show yourself out.”

You frown, watching as she walks down the corridor. At the Inn Keep, the man at the desk bounces around nonstop. He avoids your gaze and chuckles sheepishly into the silence as he scrambles through his things. Upon handing you the key, he bows. Frowning, you leave him without another word. Your room's at the very top floor, and you do a spin taking in the enclosed walls. Comparatively small in regards to the room Aemond sat in.

On the desk sits a pouch and sealed parchment. The Targaryen wax seal staring back at you ominously.

By order of Viserys Targaryen, first of his name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm.

You stare poignantly at the words of the King—you are sure they were written at the Queen’s behest. Battling the strong urge to be sick in your sweetly decorated cage. The parchment declaring you officially in service to the Prince. You slam the parchment on the desk turning to the tiny fireplace and bed with more furs than necessary staring back at you. A suitable living arrangement, but at what cost?

When Aemond finally musters the courage to arrive outside the gates, you show him the decree. He only shrugs it off, muttering there are worse situations in the world.

“But now I cannot tell you to bugger off as I please,” You say, matching his pace as you both walk through the market.

“You were never allowed to do that. You just lack manners,” Aemond chuckles, pulling his hood down carefully, hiding his face. You walk past the tables in awe of your options. No longer patrolling to steal breakfast but to pay for it.

“What do you have for me today, Daltis?” You say, grinning widely at the old man. He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he disappears inside. “Street knowledge. When it comes to imports and exports, Daltis is your guy for food, clothes, and people. He almost always has a connection if you need something done quickly and quietly.”

“Here you are, little lady, and for your friend. Not certain about the name, but it’s sweet. Just came in from Dorne,” He says, digging through your pouch; you freeze as Aemond hands him more coins than necessary. Daltis’s jaw drops as his eyebrows furrow, but Aemond only shrugs, ducking his head down to avoid the man's gaze. You watch as Daltis thanks him profusely. Aemond turns on his heels biting into the almost fuzzy substance. You follow suit furrowing your eyebrows as the sugary flavor melts on your tongue.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen the generous,” You tease, and he scoffs, the corners of his lips tugging. In the corner of your eye, you note the guard watching you both. You frown, retracing your steps—has he been following us the entire time? Whether Aemond knows remains a toss-up as he gushes about Vhagar. “All that crying like a baby only for you to get the largest beast ever! Do you feel silly now?”

“I was not crying like a baby!” He exclaims. Outside the Inn, you drop to your knee, a sardonic smile on your lips.

“My apologies, my Prince. Please accept the remnants of this Dornish treat as penance for my foolish ways, your grace,” He slaps your hand, scoffing as a laugh bubbles from deep in your stomach. Up in your room, he falls back on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You join him, watching the unremarkable walls.

"Isn't this highly inappropriate for you to be in here with me alone?" You ask, turning your head to face him. He only chuckles, pointing out that it applies more to you, but you are not a high-born lady, so it does not matter.

“Would it be wrong to say I miss your rooftop?” He asks. You raise an eyebrow reminding him losing the rooftop was his fault. He sharply nudges your arm with his elbow, laughing to yourself, both of you basking in the silence. It stays like this until a knight retrieves him.

The years fly without a hitch between you both. However, you have the singular misfortune of meeting Prince Aegon. About a year after Aemond lost his eye, it became apparent the court was aware of your existence. Aegon laughed giddily at the sight of you, admitting he always thought his brother was lying.

"You never bother her! Ever, do you understand me?" Aemond exclaimed, not caring about being seen in the middle of the markets. Patrons gawking at the sight of the two.

"Relax, little brother, we just exchanged a few words. You see when I bite, she bites back. A sharp-tongued little friend of yours. I am curious to know her other talents," Aegon laughed as he offered you a half nod before disappearing into the city.

Unlike the eventfulness of that day, typically, Aemond teaches you court etiquette and aids in refining your reading skills, while failing to teach you high Valyrian. You keep him humble, reminding him that an entire world exists outside his palace.

Offering the desk man a wave, you rub your eyes while marching up the stairs. In your room Aemond sits by the window, not bothering to turn or acknowledge your arrival. The fireplace you have never touched crackles, warming your entire room. You are certain the desk man has given him a key, but the Prince ignores you each time you inquire about it.

“Do you break into every girl's chamber to brood, or do you honor me, my prince?” You tease, setting down your woven bag on your desk. Unpacking the water, bread, and fruit you purchased from the markets.

“Is it breaking in if I pay for it?” He asks, unmoving from the window. You remind him that the King pays for it, removing your tunic and pants, switching into the only gown you own. You halt at the sight of a box on your bed.

“You know I hate gifts,” You say, ignoring the smirk on his lips as you eye the box.

“You hate lots of things. It's your sixth and tenth name day. Shall I expect suitors at your door?” He asks, a tight-lipped smile on his face. Rolling your eyes and walking to your bed, you run your fingers over the intricate detailing of the box. The Targaryen sigil expertly carved on the top. Inside sits a beautifully sewn green gown. “My gift for your name day is still in preparation. That is from my mother.”

Holding up the gown, your eyes narrow, raising an eyebrow as you meet Aemond's eye, “And what is it that she wants from me?”

“Must there always be a motive with my mother?” He sighs, shamelessly you nod your head.

“She’s your mother, the Queen. So I respect her out of my respect for you and my responsibility as her subject. But I don’t trust her or any royal particularly,” You say, running the dress between your fingers. A silence lingering in the air as he watches you.

“Do you trust me?” His question brings a stillness to the room. Fiddling with the intricate detail in the chest area.

“Would you like the honest answer or the expected one?” He frowns at your words, biting his lower lip into a pout at your question.

“Since when did you differentiate the two?” He asks, shrugging, you take a seat on your bed under his waiting gaze.

“I’m no longer that ten-year-old girl who can get away with such a brutal tongue to those far above my station. I speak to you as I please out of our mutual understanding. I do not share that with your family, but because of our friendship, I must be prepared to address your family. I hope that day never comes but realistically, I must,” You shrug your shoulders, sighing at the chains that appear as a gown—binding you to the Greens. He says nothing for a long while, leaving you to inspect the dress, “There is turmoil in your family, Aemond. You know it, I know it, and so does everyone else. When the King leaves, he will leave behind royal drama. I have only asked two things of you and you already broke one. Please do not break the other. Your mother sending this gown all but confirms my fears. She intends for me to wear this, and I am certain it won’t be for the markets.”

“I’ll speak with my mother,” He rises to his feet, taking commanding strides to the door making your eyebrows furrow. You call out to him, but he does not turn back, saying, “I’ll be around soon.”

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