In collaboration with @lady-phasma
Chapter One
A Maellory Tyrell x Aemond Targaryen AU
Maellory Tyrell is the ancestor of Margaery, a copy/paste of our Game of Thrones heroine, during the reign of Viserys I Targaryen. Maellory and her grandmother are summoned from their seat at Highgarden to the Capital. There in the throne room she is first introduced to the royal family, including the one-eyed prince Aemond. Little do they know, with one announcement their lives will be forever changed.
Word count: 4,024
Aemond strode into the throne room to find a retinue of House Tyrell in audience with the Queen Regent. His mother had taken up the mantle of regent quite well, even if it was unofficial. Her capacity to rule didn’t surprise him. His footsteps echoed in the hall and he excused himself to his mother with a bow and took his place at the far end of the throne’s dais. A young Tyrell woman stepped out from the cluster of lords and ladies at the front of the room.
The blue jewels on Maellory’s dress were almost an exact match to his sapphire though she could not have known it. They gathered the delicate fabric together between her breasts. Her flat stomach was exposed on the sides, tan skin contrasted with the pale fabric. Her ethereal nature, her light footsteps, and ability to command the room enchanted him. He tried not to stare but the shape of her body and the cut of her dress proved too enticing.
When she curtsied to the Queen Regent he looked away. He surveyed the courtiers in attendance. House Tyrell brightened the throne room like glittering gems. Even her grandmother, Lady Morwenna, wore the bright, near-tropical colors. Maellory stepped to the side of the throne nearest Aemond and she flashed her blue eyes up at him. He was momentarily taken aback by the crook of her lip and the mischievous glint in her eye. He recovered and nodded a small bow as she curtsied.
Her grandmother was speaking to the Queen Regent. He tried to listen, affairs of state were important to him mostly because they weren’t important to his brother, but his attention kept wandering to her. She was watching the exchange attentively, her hands clasped delicately behind her back. This posture only served to draw attention to her breasts, he thought she must know that. She had to. He swallowed and turned his gaze back to his mother.
Maellory was keenly aware of the Targaryen prince’s single-eyed gaze burning into her. Her lips curled into a small smirk as she ducked her head, feigning humble attention as her grandmother continued speaking amicably with the Queen Regent.
“It has been far too long since we hosted your family within the halls of the Red Keep, Lady Morwenna.” Alicent’s expression was warm as she turned her attention to Maellory, who straightened, returning her smile. “I met you when you were just a babe, how you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”
“You are too kind, your grace.” Maellory’s smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she dipped into a low curtsy. She arched her neck just so, her wavy chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulder, noticing from her periphery how Prince Aemond shifted on his feet in response. A thrill of satisfaction shot through her chest as she rose once more, running her ringed fingers along the satin skirts of her dress.“It is a privilege to be welcomed here at court by your family. Perhaps you will visit us at Highgarden when the Harvest Festival is celebrated.”
Alicent nodded. “I would like that.” She looked to her father, Otto, before continuing. “It has been too long since I visited the Reach. For now, let us retire to the dining hall and make merry for this long-awaited reunion!”
The nobles around the hall shifted and began to depart, a murmur of voices rose, sounding very akin to the sleepy buzz of bees in their hive. Maellory looked coyly over her shoulder, catching Aemond’s eye, noting what a lovely shade of purple it was and how his pupil dilated as she surveyed him, a pursed smile upon her lips.
In that moment she made her decision, turned with a swirl of silken skirts, tossed her long hair, and walked smoothly up to Aemond’s brother. She dipped a curtsy to the eldest prince, noting with studious interest how he drank in her appearance with obvious lust. As she beamed at him, her eyes betrayed nothing of how her skin crawled.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Aegon. I have heard so much about your magnificent conquests.”
Aemond made a noise that sounded as though he had just barely strangled a laugh before it could escape. Her cleverness surprised and humored him. Maellory tactfully ignored him, instead turning to the silver-haired woman standing beside her brother and husband. “And this must be Princess Helaena.” Maellory gave the girl a gentle smile. “I have heard tales of your beauty, though they have not done you justice.”
Aegon snorted, looking over at his wife. “She prefers the company of insects to that of actual people.”
“Indeed?” Maellory kept her soft gaze on Helaena who had looked at her feet at the barbed comment. “I would love to see them sometime. There are many insects at Highgarden, throughout our prolific gardens. They seem to do quite well in the warm climate. Perhaps I could show them to you when you visit.” At her kind words, Helaena looked back up into Maellory’s earnest face, gracing her with a genuine smile of gratitude and nodding. Aemond quickly glanced at his sister’s pleased face but kept his air of disinterest intact.
Maellory at last turned to Aemond, her spine tingling as their eyes met. It was so easy for her to read the people around her, but the expression on his face proved difficult to place. It wasn’t the open lechery she’d grown accustomed to manipulating from noble men, something more akin to admiration, maybe a hint of… apprehension.
“Prince Aemond, rider of the largest dragon in Westeros.” She formally greeted him, looking up into his face through her eyelashes. “Your renown proceeds you as well.”
“As does yours, Lady Tyrell, the ‘rose with silver thorns’,” Aemond’s curved mouth twitched slightly as he inclined his head to her. His demeanor had wavered when he spoke the appellation.
Maellory’s eyes widened in genuine surprise at that, she tilted her chin up, laughing breathily. “Is that what they named me here at King’s Landing, your highness?”
“A silver tongue is more like it. Can’t imagine that gets you far amongst the rabble,” Aegon grinned wickedly at her.
Maellory kept her blue eyes upon Aemond as she answered sweetly. “If you give the people your love, they will return it a thousandfold.”
Aemond’s jaw noticeably clenched at his brother’s antagonism. Still, he held Maellory’s gaze as she seemed intent upon doing. She was as deft with her words as he was with his sword. She didn’t back down, didn’t shield her parries, but feinted to conceal her true thoughts.
Before he could speak she had turned, delicate blue fabric flowing around her legs, and walked to catch up with her grandmother. He watched her hands clasp the old woman’s elbow and lean in toward her conspiratorially. Her exquisite laugh rang out above the other voices.
Aemond shot a spiteful look at his oblivious brother. Aegon had walked off with some vapid lady so Aemond offered his elbow to his sister and escorted her to the dining hall.
* * *
Aemond pulled Helaena’s chair out for her. She sat between Otto and Aegon, who had yet to appear. Aemond walked to his place at the table. He stopped as Maellory was seated at the opposite end of the table. With a small, discontented Mmmm he continued to his chair. He was unaccustomed to feeling disappointments on such an inconsequential scale. Large disappointments colored his entire worldview, but meaningless events like seating arrangements had never affected him.
A servant slid her chair forward as Maellory took her place at the far side of the table. Naturally she sat beside Lady Morwenna who had a surprisingly honored place next to the Queen Regent. That was auspicious, he thought, then dismissed it. He pulled out his own chair more aggressively than was appropriate. The Tyrells sat to his left, limiting his line of sight. Perhaps he had only meant to study the intriguing new arrival, try to understand her, but his disadvantage nagged at him. His inscrutable disposition kept most people at a distance and maintained his carefully balanced leverage.
Maellory chatted with her grandmother and he occasionally heard her airy laughter drift down the table as the meal was laid out for them. No one sat to Aemond’s right this evening so he took to surveying the hall. The dark green hues of the Hightowers’ attire combined with the blacks and reds of the Targaryens’ clothing made a pleasing backdrop for the bright colors of House Tyrell. Aemond sipped his wine as he thought about Maellory’s blue eyes, the blue of her dress, and his own blue gemstone eye. He felt some of his composure return as he glared at the people assembled at the dinner. Aemond’s armor took shape in his stoic, unreadable expression and, ironically, his remaining violet eye.
Thankfully Otto Hightower sat on his left and Aemond was far enough away to only occasionally have to listen to his brother’s drunken drivel. Attending to their sister was something Aemond had been doing since childhood because of Aegon’s disinterest but their grandfather seemed to delight in the task this evening. Aemond sat straight-backed but his shoulders did relax slightly at the sound of his sister chatting happily. The wine helped as well. The servants finished setting the tables and a hush fell over the hall. The attention in the room shifted to the head of the table as Queen Alicent rose from her seat, goblet of wine held in her hand.
“Friends, well met and be welcome. We have summoned you all here today to bear witness and celebrate the imminent union of House Targaryen with House Tyrell.” Her brown eyes sparkled down upon the smiling Morwenna Tyrell. Aemond shifted in his chair, glancing briefly at the back of Maellory’s coiffed hair, his brow furrowed slightly as his mother continued speaking.
Alicent raised her goblet, encouraging others to toast. “It brings me great happiness to announce that Maellory Tyrell will be betrothed to one of my sons, Aemond or Daeron.” The queen regent nodded to Maellory, Aemond noticed her posture stiffen momentarily, almost imperceptibly. His own shoulders were tense with surprise, he stared at Alicent trying to draw her gaze to his, but she didn’t seem to want to look at him. His eye narrowed, the only outward sign of his emotions.
“Since Lady Maellory is the eldest daughter of Lord Karlen Tyrell, she will have until the anticipated Harvest Moon Festival to decide who she would like to marry.” Alicent regarded the many faces looking back at her, soft murmurs spread around the table as Aemond lowered his eye to his plate. His face grew hot as the whispers grew louder.
A man’s voice rose above the rest as he addressed the queen.
“Forgive me, your grace, is this not a rather out of the ordinary way in which such matters are done?”
“Thank you, Lord Beesbury,” the Queen Regent acknowledged the slightly impertinent inquiry. Aemond looked up to watch his mother address the old lord. “For long House Tyrell has been faithful to the Crown, thus we extend this courtesy to honor that loyalty.”
“I am Hand of the King and represent his Grace’s wishes in this matter.” Otto spoke up next to Aemond, turning heads in his direction, allowing Aemond at last to look upon Maellory’s candlelit face. Her eyes flickered to him momentarily, long enough for her to raise a thin eyebrow and widen her eyes as if to commiserate in the surprise of their situation.
“The Hightowers are vassals to House Tyrell, and King Viserys has agreed to this plan for the sake of his queen, as well as myself, and our relationship with the lords of the Reach.” Otto drank from his own wine glass, relishing the reaction of those gathered over its glass rim. He trusted his daughter and she listened to his advice but this had been a stroke of cunning that even he could not have foreseen.
Lord Beesbury looked more satisfied, though still confused as his sunken eyes flitted from Maellory to Aemond. “Very well, however I still think it is not in keeping with our customs.” Some of the heat left Aemond’s face with his grandfather’s defense of the Crown’s position but his analytical mind searched for the reasoning, for something in Maellory’s character that would allow a first born daughter to have her choice of Targaryen prince. Lord Beesbury made an excellent point and Aemond was unsure if he disagreed. The realm was held together by tradition. He detested it but understood that tradition often meant security and peace. This deviation from it was perplexing, maybe even a bit intriguing.
The sounds of dining commenced, knives and forks against plates becoming a clamor that echoed around the large room. The noise served as a distraction from his instinctive strain to hear the lowered voices and individual conversations at the table. He looked at his plate and pushed it away.
Alicent lowered herself into her plush dining chair, turning her attention back to Maellory. “Daeron is on his way back from Oldtown where he has been squiring many years for my father’s nephew, Sir Ormund.” Maellory mirrored Alicent’s movements as the Queen leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Some would say Aemond has had an unfair advantage in meeting you first, however I think you will find Daeron to be very charming. He matches you in age, I believe, he just turned seven and ten years last winter.”
Maellory glanced surreptitiously down the table to where Aemond sat, his profile sharp as his long fingers tapped the wood beside his untouched drink. Despite her perplexity, she molded a careful smile upon her lips, turning back to Alicent and Morwenna. “You honor me beyond words, my queen.”
As Alicent’s attention was diverted by the arrival of more food, Maellory’s gaze sharpened upon her grandmother. “When were you going to tell me of this arrangement?” The polite, courtly smile remained on her face but her voice, though she tried to sweeten it, carried an icy undercurrent.
Morwenna looked at her granddaughter grimly, her voice low enough to avoid being heard by any listening ears. “It is not abnormal for sons and daughters of great houses to be unaware of their impending fates.” Her wrinkled mouth pressed into a fine line as she read Maellory’s displeased expression. “My petal, you have been given more freedom than most girls in your position ever have the opportunity to hold.”
As the plates were cleared for the next course Aemond stilled his hand on the table and fought the urge to storm out of the hall. Otto glanced at his grandson, opened his mouth, then closed it as he caught Aemond’s glaring eye. With great restraint Aemond stood and moved his chair silently back under the table. Unlike in the throne room he wouldn’t have to draw attention to his exit from the dining hall. He bounded down the steps of the dais and into the shadows of the side wall.
Maellory nodded at her grandmother’s words absently as she watched Aemond leave the table. He wasn’t entirely inconspicuous. His striking figure seemed to catch her eye whenever they were in the same room. She looked around the room quickly, noting her possible points of egress. For the moment she turned to Lady Morwenna and smiled warmly at her. Her grandmother was artful in her politics and Maellory admired her dearly. She felt the first twinges of anxiety that she might be left alone in King’s Landing without her grandmother. Maellory had learned so much from her in seventeen years but knew she would need her in the near future perhaps more than she ever had before.
* * *
Maellory wasn’t at all sure where Aemond had gone when he turned down the hallway. Her light, soft steps made nearly no sound but she wasn’t going to race to keep up with his long strides. She caught her breath and her brows knitted together with a mix of consternation and determination. She retraced her steps back to the last corner they had turned and stepped out of the Keep into a small, narrow garden balcony. It was enclosed on only two sides and opened up to a view of the city and Blackwater Bay glinting with the early moonlight in the distance.
The cool dusk air ruffled along Maellory’s gown, causing her bare arms to erupt in gooseflesh. Hugging herself for warmth, she swept her eyes along the large balcony, her curious gaze alighting upon Aemond’s form. His back was to her, and the way his silver hair shone in the dim moonlight only served to make him more intriguing.
She didn’t know at all what to expect from the youngest prince but through her observation of the eldest she mused that he would be nothing like this second son. Daeron was most likely as different from his older brothers as they were from each other. The way Aemond tried to be a looming figure in the background seemed to have the opposite effect on Maellory. She thought the contrast with his elder brother made him shine like a polished river rock, hard sides to be sure, but so much more refined than Aegon. She imagined that every thought Aegon ever had passed over his face if not also past his lips. Aemond, on the other hand, chose his words and his facade as deliberately as she did.
He was unaware of her presence, his emotions in turmoil as he clasped his hands tightly behind him. His silver hair stirred in the salty breeze coming off Blackwater Bay, the long strands tickling his cheeks. Aemond’s nebulous thoughts pulled at the corners of his mind, unformed but beginning to coalesce as he stared across the city of King’s Landing. Normally he would be content in readily yielding a betrothal to his younger brother; now, however, Lord Beesbury’s words had stayed with him as much as the shape of her raised eyebrow had lingered in his mind’s eye. Why not let her choose?
He longed for the clarity of being astride Vhagar. Flying with her gave him the space he required to think. This part of the castle had, so far, proved to be secluded enough from the chatter of the court that he could indulge his racing mind. He had avoided his stuffy chambers, not wanting to pace in front of the fire as he was wont to do. The very last feeling he needed now was encumbrance. One completely solid feeling amongst all of the others, identifiable above his roiling thoughts, was coercion.
Maellory found the stairs at the end hallway. She smoothed her windswept hair before approaching the balcony’s railing. She kept a slight distance between herself and the prince. Aemond didn’t turn to her immediately. He listened to her footsteps as she walked up to him and saw her hand rest on the railing from the corner of his eye. He kept his hands behind his back but shifted his weight slightly toward her.
His eye lingered on the waves in the bay. The crests caught the evening moonlight making the bay appear to be filled with stars. The waves could just barely be heard above the noise of the city as it settled its affairs of the day. Leaves rustled on the vines overhanging the balcony. The breeze shifted and he could smell Maellory’s perfume. Everything about this woman was proving to be breathtaking. Aemond disliked being so disarmed.
“I often seek out the fresh breeze in a wide open space when I feel overwhelmed. Being surrounded by moonlight and flowers is calming.” He turned slowly on the heel of his boot. The moonlight caught on her eyelashes as she looked at the garden below. As she lifted her head to look at him he saw it glint off her bottom lip. He clenched his jaw. His hands gripped his forearms behind his back. “I imagine it reminds you of home, my lady.”
“The scent of all these lovely flowers is intoxicating, to be certain.”
The moonbeams falling across Maellory’s face turned her eyes to silver, lighting them from within. Aemond was entranced. “Yes, the flowers as well.” He murmured, pleased to see a slight blush rise to her cheeks.
“I want to apologize on behalf of my brother for his earlier behavior.” Aemond let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “He despises being at court, manners have never come easy to him.”
“I was not offended.” Maellory looked out toward the shimmering ocean, the curves of her neck accentuated by shadows and soft argent light. He noticed she wore no jewels at her neck. Her neck and collarbones needed no adornment. The low cut of her dress began to draw his eye back to the gems of her bodice. He rubbed the inside of his knuckles with his thumb.
“My brother, Loras, would prefer if he weren’t the eldest son, he shirks duty in favor of the empty glory of tourneys and a quick tumble with a lover.” She looked back to Aemond, noting how his eye flicked quickly up to her face. “It often falls upon my shoulders to represent our house with the honor it deserves.”
“A feeling I know well.” Aemond nodded, his arms relaxing, unwinding behind his back to rest at his sides. He placed his hand upon the stone wall of the balcony, his fingertips inches from hers. “Now you have been burdened still more with the decision of who you are to wed.”
“I wouldn’t name it a burden.” Maellory felt a twinge of mischievous delight at the way Aemond’s curved lips parted slightly at her words. “A surprise for both of us it seems, but not an unwelcome one.” She searched his face, trying to read what he was feeling, pursing her lips slightly when Aemond gave nothing away.
He nodded at her slightly, his eye never leaving hers. “No, not unwelcome. I have grown accustomed to proving myself, this is no different.” He wasn’t sure if the story of how he claimed Vhagar had traveled to Highgarden intact. Perhaps Maellory knew precisely what he had sacrificed in addition to his eye to prove himself. The court may have even embellished the tale beyond recognition. A second son having to prove himself was not unusual but his mutilation was something most outsiders felt he must overcome.
“I would rather you show me who you are, than feel you have something to prove.” Maellory’s gaze was still intent upon Aemond, watching with interest as a flicker of surprise softened his expression.
He smiled gently down at her. “I will keep that in mind, Lady Maellory.” Her name felt like silk on his tongue.
Maellory shivered again, unused to the chilly nights at King’s Landing. She stepped closer to him. He swallowed dryly as she did so. He followed her gaze out to the bay, not turning his body away from her. The silence was peaceful, punctuated intermittently by the first birdsong of the evening. The constant prattle of the court and its ladies made his silence a respite for her. Within that lacuna she saw through Aemond’s imposing presence, saw her own facade mirrored in his posture, in his impeccably curated attire, in the intangible armor he wore everyday.
“I will leave you to your thoughts, my prince.” Maellory’s eyes lingered on the contours of Aemond’s face. “I hope we can speak together more soon.”
“That is my desire, as well.”
Maellory dipped her head and offered him a tender smile before she walked to the stairs. As she turned the side of her hand coquettishly grazed Aemond’s, their skin barely touching at all.
Aemond watched her leave, a gust of wind caught the thin fabric of her azure dress while her long auburn curls bounced with each step she took.
His eye remained upon the doorway long after she passed through it. The way her eyes had moved over him, exposed him, it was a unique ability, a challenge he had never had to meet before. With a sharp exhalation through his nose, Aemond replaced his hands behind his back and turned to survey the moonlit landscape, a smile of satisfaction tugging up his lips.
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