omg that failed successfully kidnapping of myrah fic would be so funny to read 😭 myrahs failure of being a good captive vs aemond being a manic psycho husband would be great omg PLS if u have time write it!! if not just a crumb ,, mayhaps a speck
I imagine this taking place around Baelor’s second maybe third name day. A hunt happens sort of similar to ep 3 of hotd. There are couple of ways I imagine her being taken but this is one. This is little sections: How she gets taken, Aemond’s response, her annoying the shit out of them/them being incompetent lmao
Eyes Peeled
In way, this could techincally be Myrah’s fault.
Amal tells the story to this day. Myrah was ‘a runner’. As a young girl, if she saw something she liked or was bored of her situation, she simply left. It scared her parents to no end, but it was something they were sure she would grow out of the older she got.
The more aware of her surroundings… well the more she should’ve became more aware of them.
Otto advised them not to do the hunt. Claiming it would be a bad time to not only be out in the woods, but also showing the wealth of House Targaryen in the process. But Jeyne Arryn, despite making her support of Rhaenyra’s claim clear at the Great Council, was to attend. A show of support for another child of the Vale of Arryn being born.
Aemond had scoffed at the letter. Muttering something about Baelor being used for politicking.
Myrah was just surprised by the seemingly warm welcome knowing how the last two marriages that connected House Targaryen and Vale went. And with the fanfaire that came with being a Targaryen, it was important to her that pieces of how she grew up was also instilled in their children.
They will be of the mountains and lakes as much as they will be hot blooded, dragon riders.
She had felt sick all morning. It was only compounded by how claustrophobic she felt. Despite the sprawling tented area where they set up, the amount of people around made Myrah unusually antsy. Like she wanted to bolt at the drop of a hat.
Baelor squirmed in her arms, grabbing her cheeks between his little hands. Big eyes staring at her in amusement. Myrah can’t believe she gave birth to something so perfect.
….Then he proceeds to try and grab sapphire hairnet intertwined with her coils.
“Alright, let not do that to mama,” she whispers before putting on a shocked face. “Why don’t we go pull your father’s hair. Yes, let’s do that.”
Aemond was over by Otto and a few other members of Aegon’s council. With Baelor on her hip, Myrah puts a gently brushes against Aemond. Relief flooding his face at the thought of being excused from what she assumes was a boring conversation.
“Your son needs something to play with,” she hands Baelor over with a smile. His tiny hands instantly going to play with the ends of Aemond’s hair.
“I think his cousin has their toys.”
Myrah used the free hands as excuse to leave the tent. “I think there is wine outside.”
She will take in the sights since it is clear Aemond has no interest in it. Staying in the tent content to be around others he knows.
The spectacle that follows the family is something she must get used to.
It did not take long for Myrah to find what she was looking for. A spread of food and wine near the woodsy area where the hunt will take place. People watching was an activity she always loved. With new fresh air, she was able to breath and take in the array of people in the distance.
Before she can put the goblet to her lips, a voice startles her.
She notices flaming red hair and a beard to match before she even hears his voice.
“Quite the showing,” his voice is gruff.
She just nods, that same weird feeling she had all day seeping in. It is not she can explain but before her feet can carry away away to safety, everything goes black
It takes little time before Baelor begins to fuss again. The whining turns into whimpering which turns into full blown crying. A cry for his mother, Aemond is sure. Baelor always became restless if his mother is not in eyesight.
Aemond understood on two different levels. Alicent often regales stories of how connected the two them were when he was a boy.
He too becomes fussy when Myrah is not around.
“She has two big babies to look after,” Aegon muttered one day.
So, when Myrah does not come back from getting the wine she wants. Aemond’s face begins to match his son’s. Distress written all over it.
He sends one of the guards in the tent out to find her. But the gaurd come back a bit pale, and instead of going to Aemond, he beelines to Otto. His grandsire’s back stiffens a bit before going over to Aegon, who sat in a festive, elevated throne. Cup in hand, and crown cocked to the side. The jovialness wiped from his face and replaced with confusion when his hand begins to whisper in his ear.
By this time, Baelor’s face is hot as he buried it in father’s neck. Aegon walks over fake smile on his face.
“Why don’t you give him to one of the nurses,” Aegon suggestion lowly.
Aemond only holds Baelor tighter. “Why? What’s going on?”
Aegon cringes, before motioning towards the guards behind Aemond to leave the tent. “Umm well,” he twists his rings on his fingers nervously before whispering. “I just think he should not be in your arms when I tell you this.”
“Aegon, what the fuck is going on?”
Aegon swallows. “Myrah has seem to be… misplaced.”
Misplaced. As if his dear wife is a hairbrush or a sock.
He gently sets Baelor on the ground. Blinking because he must have misheard that. “What?”
“I’m sure she’s just… around the woods. We will find her,” Aegon reassures. But Aemond feels the blood rushing from his head to his feet. The nurse Aegon called comes over to get Baelor from holding his dad’s legs.
“I - I need Vhagar,” he stutters out.
“No, I don’t think we need to disturb her, do we?”
Aegon knows how this will go. Aemond gets worked up, and Vhagar will follow suit. And before they all know it the forest around them will surely be burned to the ground. Gods forbid, any other place. A hand comes to Aegon’s throat. Criston, who was right behind Aegon, hands itch to grab his sword.
Aegon waves him off when Aemond’s squeezes a bit. They’ve always been ones to take their aggression out on each other; brotherly love and all of that.
“My wife is missing, and you’re tell me no?”
Well, when he puts it like that, and air stops flowing to his brain, who is Aegon to refuse.
The sack is pulled from Myrah’s head, and her eyes squint as they readjust to the setting sun’s light.
She doesn’t recognize her surroundings, she barely did at the hunt inself. All she sees in the cave she in and body of water in front of her. She tries to move but realizes her wrist and ankles are bound.
“You were supposed try and grab the Queen Mother you imbecile. Or the Hand.”
She cranes her neck to see two figures standing by the trees. Myrah had not noticed how cartoonishly tall the red head was till he was being berated by a tiny blonde man.
“What value is she?”
Well then.
So, Myrah wasn’t the queen at one point, and she doesn’t advise the king. She’s still married to a prince and gave birth to another one. That counts for something. She would make an excellent captive.
“And gods forbid that psycho husband of hers comes looking.”
“Hey!”
As soon as she says it, she cringes. Both men snap their heads towards her. They both come over to leer over her.
“Shut it girl.”
“Make me,” she shoots back. Aemond would tell her not to push her luck. That being belligerent will not help.
“Gag her, Percy,” the short blonde looks up at his accomplice. The redhead pats his breeches, then gives a sheepish look.
“I don’t have it on me.”
Leave to Myrah to be taken by the dumbest men in the Seven Kingdoms.
“Look, if you guys let me go now, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” she nods. “No harm will be done to you, if no harm is done to me.”
The blonde lets out a squeak of a laugh. “You don’t make the rules here.”
Myrah shrugs. “Fine then, I will just wait for my psycho husband to come on dragon-back while you two figure out what the plan is.”
Percy and the other one share a concerned look.
“Galahad, do you think he will actually come with a dragon,” Percy, despite his height, seems to cower at the thought. Both of them eye Myrah to see if she’s bluffing.
“We have his wife, you fool,” Percy hisses. “What do you think?”
Percy storms off, hands on his hips, looking out at the lake to think.
“You shouldn’t let him speak to you like that,” Myrah fakes concern. Percy mouth down turns in a frown. “I imagine he won’t be too happy if things go side ways. And you will be to blame.” He gives Myrah a sad look before scurrying away to speak with the clear brains of the operation. Though considering the empty, open area they are at, that is not saying much in Myrah’s head.
Aemond is not crazy, never that. But one thing Myrah knows is that Aemond is diligent, almost paranoid, in the way he handles his family. With her, Baelor, his sibling, or mother.
He will be no different now.
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in internet posts it is easy to cut them out of your life. they are hurting you! they aren't listening to you!
they held your hair back. they lent you lipstick. they held your hand at the train station and got you home safe. they rounded on your bully, got loud, said get fucked, spitting-mad in your defense.
they also cut the hair off again. told you that you should really think twice before wearing something like that. took you for granted. took your insecurities and threw them in your face again.
you know logically it should be easy. all the internet advice comments always read it will feel better. like an equation - if a person is rotten, you just remove them. you pull the tooth that's hurting.
but it was never a big flare-up moment. you don't live in a sitcom. they never tried to take your boyfriend or steal from your apartment. they showed up to birthdays and they wrote songs about you and bring you water without you asking. once you found out they carry an emergency inhaler for you, even though you haven't had an asthma attack in years - just in case.
where is the line? people fuck up. sometimes they fuck up badly. sometimes people have raw personalities, like a powerline, and being around them is dangerous. addicting. sometimes they can't help themselves, but you know they're trying. sometimes they are just rough-around-the-edges. sometimes they don't even realize how they sounded when they said that. sometimes it's just - you've both loved each other for so long now, the way this thing hurts goes back to the root.
and that's the fucked up part. you have pushed your fingers against the sweetheart of memory. things these days are electric, tense, harrowing. they didn't used to be. there were a lot of good days in there. sometimes you want to just close your eyes and say can this be over yet? do we still need to be fighting?
doing that would give up any chance you get of getting an apology, but you don't always know that you need an apology, you love them. once they flaked on your birthday party. once they told you to get over it, people are always dying. they also let you crash on their couch for a week after the breakup, handfeeding you when you were so sad you couldn't eat. they are also judgmental about everything, occasionally react to banal statements with an attitude that is weird and fiery. they also love you like a lighthouse sometimes, so strong they cut the storm like lightning.
but the problem is that you might be storm. you might be the thing that needs breaking. what if you are two forces who are desperately, horribly drawn to each other, shaped by the other person's passions, and both good for each other and bad in equal measure.
what if you're both just people, and you're no saint neither.
just cut them off! swallowing the saltwater, you catch yourself in the mirror. you've been shaking more than usual. there's an ache in you that is oblique, loud, impossible to soothe. is this what it looks like? when life is "easier"?
your mouth will always have a hole, is the thing, if you remove the tooth.
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