❝ There was a feeling of inevitability when I met you. And our lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. And I think I had to break your heart and you had to break mine. ❞
As Cressida Black's lungs ceased to draw breath, Aurelia Martell's...
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The Red Keep, King's Landing
Highborn girls grow up knowing they'll be married off for their father's benefit.
Alicent, as the Hand's daughter, knew she would be well-matched. A dashing, young lord would be her husband and if she was lucky, he would be a Reacher as well and she would stay close to home.
She had grown up without the delusion of marrying for love — all she wanted was a handsome, kind and loving man.
And then, Queen Aemma died and she was pushed into the King's rooms wearing dresses meant for a woman and not a girl. Suddenly, she was Queen, stripped from her closest friend and having the eyes of the court trained on her.
The last vestiges of her childhood had been stripped away and she'd been forced into a role she was too young for, a role she was still unaccustomed to.
Viserys was not a knight in shining armor like those from the songs, but he was gentle, and wise. As a Targaryen, he could not be called plain, even if his brother was the more handsome one. He wooed her with his model of Valyria, their shared interest in history.
She told herself it was all right — she was offering comfort to a man who was hurting, she was helping him. But when all was said and done, she knew what was the truth. Her father pushed her into his rooms with the goal of making her queen and of having her eventual son on the throne.
At first, it wasn't so bad. But the expectations grew and she was not prepared for it. She had been meant to run a small household, not the Red Keep and she was out of her depths. And then, she fell pregnant and had to stand as her body widened, as another being took over her own body. She suffered to bring a babe into the world and she couldn't even name it.
She learned to live with the feeling of failure weighing on her shoulders, pressing her into the ground with every single step. And she couldn't tell it was all too much for her, couldn't admit how terrified she was of being a mother, couldn't explain why she felt alien to her own life, couldn't confess that she was homesick because this was supposed to be her home, now. And how could anyone else understand what she herself didn't? She was said to have it all.
She was the queen, she'd had a son in her first pregnancy. Her father was the Hand — unlike most women, she did not leave her family behind. She had a dashing husband and a beautiful babe. And, yet she wasn't happy.
She felt caged.
━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━
The Stepstones
Lucerys was a sweet baby. Laena had placed him on the bed next to her, his eyes swelled shut as he slept a peaceful sleep, and laid down herself, observing his little face. Morgan often complimented her sharp nose, but she was pleased to see that Luke did not inherit it. He had her lips though, a little poutier as he slept, and even Daemon had commented on how he looked a Velaryon already. She hoped that would change. She wanted her children to look like Morgan as well.
