CHAPTER THREE.

disclaimer. slightly unedited! and HEAVY
TRIGGER WARNING! aegon will be
making a lot of disgusting and uncomfortable
comments towards hesperia. again, i do not
condone any of his actions in here or in
the show and book— aegon's actions are
honestly unredeemable and this isn't a matter
of i'm team black or not, but it's the stone
cold truth that aegon's actions are predatory
and i'm not trying to taint any other picture.
if you disagree then like... idk scroll away,
because what he's done to dyanna and multiple
girls is NOT okay.

this chapter focuses primarily on aemond
and hesperia's marriage— which obviously,
is a child marriage. this chapter does
briefly mention that aemond and hesperia
did the deed because consummation culture
in westeros and the olden days is just
sick and twisted and horrible and disgusting.

and again, i do NOT condone any
actions of child marriage, arranged/ forced
marriages, and the thought of child consummation.
a lot of hotd writers are on the fence with all of
this, i am too, but please do know that me writing
this chapter isn't me having some sick and twisted
fantasy of whatever horrid actions go on in the
world of westeros and outside. if you do actually
enjoy that kind of stuff (forced marriages, incest, so
and so), especially if you enjoy content that contains
sexual harassment and so PLEASE turn away and
seek help.

again, i do not condone any actions and behaviors
such as listed above.

... chat are we capiche?

with that being said, this chapter will be REALLY
heavy and if you think you can't handle it please
turn away. i've ran this chapter multiple
multiple times with multiple people just to make
sure it isn't anything YUCK and EW and GROSS.

King's Landing was louder than Ysella had ever imagined.

She had read about it, of course. Heard stories of its markets, its filth, its grand towers that scraped at the sky like giants. But the moment they passed through the muddy streets, she realized that words did not do it justice.

There was a stench of rot and sweat, mingled with the perfumed oils of nobility. The cries and shouts of merchants and beggars swirled together, bringing forth a curiosity Ysella never experienced. Hesperia continued to sit across from her in the carriage, their mother had spent the last hour braiding their hair, smoothing their gowns, ensuring that they looked presentable to the Targaryens. Everything made Ysella's skin crawl with unease.

The young girl had a clear understanding of what their journey meant. Aemond Targaryen was to be wed to Hesperia, and she was to be promised to Jacaerys Velaryon. It had been decided long before they even arrived, before Ysella had ever seen him. Her stomach twisted at the thought. Not from fear, but from something else.

⃘໋ׅ ᭢˚̣̣̣͙͏ ⃨۪̃۟ ▊-ཻུ͎ ⚔️

The throne room was warm, the summer heat clung to the stones, making it unbearable as the Targaryens stood before them. Hesperia stood stiffly, her hands beginning to pull at her dress slightly to keep herself looking presentable.

Beside Alicent stood her sons. Aegon stood lazily, his lips curling in amusement as he looked Hesperia up and down. Ysella saw the way her sister's shoulders tensed under the prince's gaze. Aemond's violent eyes studied Hesperia with something the girl couldn't quite read. It wasn't the look of approval, but not displeasure either. Was this really what she was getting into?

And then– Jacaerys Velaryon. He stood with his mother, the Princess Rhaenyra. Ysella had expected him to look like a Velaryon, like his father, like Laenor. But he didn't– his hair was brown, eyes dark, sharp, knowing. She heard how her mother and father argued to wed her to the prince in the carriage– how the voices told her she'd be miserable, bastard they said. What does his blood have to do anything? In any case, she was still being promised to a boy she knew only by name.

But when his gaze flickered toward her, Ysella felt her pulse quicken– she did not know why.

⃘໋ׅ ᭢˚̣̣̣͙͏ ⃨۪̃۟ ▊-ཻུ͎ ⚔️

The wedding was immediate. There were no weeks of courtship, no grand betrothal feast. Alicent had ordered it to be done swiftly.

"Marriage is duty," the Queen had told Hesperia. "And duty does not wait."

It only took a mere day to have everything ready. The Red Keep was alive with the usual decorations for a royal wedding– golden tapestries hung from the stone walls, displaying a union that was more about politics and power than for love. It was unsettling, and yet lords and ladies from across the realm had managed to fill the area, their laughter and conversations rising.

Hesperia stood at the center of it all, her breathing heavy with every new face. Her parents made sure she wore the finest gown fit for a girl her age, her hair twisted into a complex yet intriguing braid. She had been trained for this moment, raised to accept her fate, but even then, as she stood beside Aemond at the altar, she began to feel the crushing weight of her chains.

Quick vows were spoken, the crowd anxious with expectations, and the marriage was sealed with a lifeless kiss.

It wasn't love. It was not a choice. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another– a life now bound to her husband and his family. As the people cheered, and the children made their way down, Aegon leaned close to Hesperia's ear. "Poor little dove," he whispered. "Tied to my brother so young. I wonder, did your father think to send you to my bed first?"

A chill made its way down her spine, causing Aegon to smirk. "Perhaps there is still time."

Hesperia couldn't explain what she felt, or rather how she felt– but the disgust rose in her chest was immediate, burning. And yet, when she turned her head, her gaze landed on Ysella– so free, unwed, untouched.

She started to despise her for it.

⃘໋ׅ ᭢˚̣̣̣͙͏ ⃨۪̃۟ ▊-ཻུ͎ ⚔️

Wine flowed, music filled the halls, and laughter rang through the Red Keep. But Ysella sat alone, cup untouched, watching the rest of the people twirl across the floor.

Whispers followed her, they always did.

"They say she is cursed."

"Do you notice how no man has dared to take her hand?"

"She carries death in her blood."

The girl tried to ignore the prying eyes that followed her. She was no stranger to the hushed murmurs behind her back, the side glances, the constant reminder that she was a Vanros, the bearer of a cursed bloodline. The rumors would follow her everywhere, they followed her to King's Landing, where the Targaryens had gathered for her sister's wedding to Aemond. But despite all the glances, the judgement, Ysella tried her best to remain unbothered. Tonight, all she wanted to do was forget about the curse.

Both from inside and out, voices hissed and echoed even louder. Ysella dear, they whispered. Kill her before she gets to you.

Her eyes flickered towards the knife by her plate, causing the girl to clench her jaw. But then, as if on cue, a figure appeared before her. "Will you dance with me?" a voice asked, a hand extended before her.

Jacaerys Velaryon, a boy she had only seen a moment prior, his striking appearance all too familiar. He stood there, looking at her with something of a shy, tentative smile, and for a fleeting second, she wondered if this was just a dream.

"I'm sorry– could you repeat that?"

"Would you like to dance?"

Ysella only blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. Her heart skipped a beat, and glanced around quickly, half-expecting someone to step in and prevent the moment– after all, she was only betrothed to him in name, a mere agreement between their families. But there was no one coming forward to stop them, no watchful eyes of her father or her sister, only the sound of the music prancing around them.

"Me?" Ysella asked, her brow furrowing in confusion as her gaze shifted from Jace to the dance floor. "You want to dance with me?"

He hesitated for just a moment, as if uncertain of his own decision, but his smile stayed the same. "Why not? It's just a dance, no harm in it."

Ysella's lips parted, her curiosity piqued. She never really danced at a court celebration before, and certainly not with someone who wasn't her sister, Daeron, or another noblewoman. But Jace, he was different. His presence felt oddly comforting, despite the talk that surrounded him. Ysella found herself not caring in the slightest. It wasn't that she was unaware of the gossip that surrounded the prince– how Harwin Strong was believed to be his father instead of Laenor, it was just that none of it mattered. Not here, not now.

He was kind, and that made the weight of everything seem so far away. "Alright then," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let's dance." 

The prince's expression brightened as she took his hand, his fingers warm against hers. He guided her to the center of the floor, Ysella slowly beginning to feel nervous. But it was more of a good thing than bad, a nervousness of excitement. It was the kind of feeling she thought she wouldn't allow herself to experience with him. But his actions began to prove her wrong.

They took their positions, hands gently meeting, and Jace's other hand resting lightly on her waist. He led her in time with the music, their feet moving gracefully across the floor. The world outside them seemed to fade into a blur as they twirled and spun, the sound of their laughter mingling with the soft strains of the music.

"You're a good dancer," Ysella said, amused as she struggled to keep up with his steps.

He laughed softly. "I've had a bit of practice, my mother says it's important to know how to dance."

"I've never danced before," she confessed softly, feeling a sudden flush rise in her cheeks.

"It shows– but that doesn't mean you're not good at it. If anything, you're graceful."

Ysella couldn't help but laugh, it felt freeing– the way it seemed to chase away the voices in her head. It felt good to laugh. The pair continued to dance, the music flowing around them in a perfect harmony, it felt as though the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of them. Jace's hand remained at her waist, steady, secure, and as they moved, she found herself leaning into his presence. She let the rhythm of the song guide her, trusting him completely, feeling as though the entire hall had faded away.

There were no stares, no whispers– there was only the delicate press of his hand against her back, the soft swish of her gown as it brushed the floor, the warmth of his body so close to hers, and the light in his eyes. His hand never strayed, and she didn't want it to. She didn't want him to let go, because at that moment, it was like they were floating on a cloud. Untethered from the earth below. For a fleeting instant, Ysella allowed herself to forget everything– the curse, the weight of her bloodline, the fear that gnawed at her heart.

"I'm not as graceful as you think," she told him, breaking the silence between them. "I mean, I've never been like every normal girl."

Jace's gaze softened. "None of us are like the others," he answered. "We each have our own burdens to bear."

For the first time since Daeron, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to be just a girl dancing with a boy she barely knew. And the world seemed a little less dark, a little less heavy, with his hand in hers. The music swelled, and she found herself lifting her gaze to his, her breath catching in her chest as he spun her in a slow twirl. She stumbled slightly, but he caught her immediately, steadying her without missing a beat. "There's no need to worry," Jace whispered. "I won't let you fall."

Ysella's heart skipped a beat once more, she thought she might cry. Not from sadness– no, it couldn't be. It was from something else, something delicate, something sweet. He smiled at her again, and this time, there was no teasing, no playfulness– just pure, unguarded kindness. "Ysella, you don't have to pretend with me," he said softly. "I don't care about what they say, I care about the person standing in front of me."

The whole world for Ysella paused, the voices, the whispers, the glances. It all fell silent at that moment. She was no longer Ysella Vanros, the cursed girl. The one plagued with a burden to end a life. She was just Ysella, and she was dancing.

⃘໋ׅ ᭢˚̣̣̣͙͏ ⃨۪̃۟ ▊-ཻུ͎ ⚔️

Across the room, Ysella laughed. Hesperia's gaze snapped to her sister, watching as she twirled beneath the golden light of the chandeliers. Jacaerys Velaryon's hand in hers. He led her through the dance with boyish ease, his eyes bright with something warm— something real. Ysella was not bound in chains, she was only betrothed, promised but not yet taken.

She still had time.

She still had freedom.

It was Aegon who broke the girl out of her thoughts. He sauntered over to her side, a grin playing on his lips. He was drunk, she could tell from the way his words slurred and his posture wavered, but it only made his words more dangerous. The other guests paid little attention to him as he leaned closer to Hesperia, his breath hot on her ear.

"Quite the ceremony," Aegon said, his voice low. "I'm sure it's everything you dreamed of."

Hesperia stiffened, her body going rigid as she forced herself to meet his gaze. She hated the way he was looking at her– like she was some sort of prize, something to be claimed and put on display. His eyes lingered too long on her face, then to her neck, to her chest, as if imagining the layers of silk and satin between them as nothing more than mere obstacles.

"You'll be in good hands," Aegon continued, his tone dripping with something sickly sweet. "Aemond's a quiet one, but he knows how to treat a woman, I hear. Well, as much as a Targaryen can. But I wonder if he is as imaginative as I am."

Hesperia's breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as she tried to hold herself together. She wanted to shout, to slap him across the face and demand he leave her be, but her body didn't move– the girl was trapped. Aegon leaned in closer, his voice just a whisper, though his words were anything but private.

"I imagine you'll find that not all Targaryens are as uptight as the others, don't be surprised if your first night is a little... rough. We are rather passionate, you know?" he said. "Aemond may have the air of a dragon, but I'm more than capable of what a real Targaryen is like–"

"Aegon," Aemond interrupted, a cold gaze towards the older brother. "Leave her alone."

He only raised his hand in mock surrender, a grin still plastered on his face. "I'm only speaking the truth, brother. I'm sure she'll learn that eventually. But no worries, I'm not here to ruin your night. Have your fun." His gaze flickered toward Hesperia one last time, a lingering, unsettling look that made her skin crawl. With that, he stumbled away, his laughter echoing as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Hesperia shaking in her seat.

⃘໋ׅ ᭢˚̣̣̣͙͏ ⃨۪̃۟ ▊-ཻུ͎ ⚔️

The celebration eventually died down, the guests, drunk on wine, made their way to their chambers. But the night had only begun for Hesperia. She and Aemond were led to their chambers by the watchful eyes of their attendants, their hands cold and indifferent as they guided her to the bedchamber that would now be hers.

She tried to steady her breath, but it was no use. The reality of it all settled in her bones deep. This is it. This is my life now.

Aemond didn't speak as they closed the door behind them, his movements precise and controlled. His back was turned as the servants removed his cloak, and for a moment, Hesperia tried to block out the feeling of them untying the lace on the back of her dress. "We will make this work," his voice pulled her out of her thoughts once more. "It will be our duty to fulfill the expectations placed upon us."

Hesperia only nodded, she couldn't bring herself to speak. What was there to say? This was what was expected of her. This was what the world demanded of her. Aemond didn't press any further as their attendants slowly made their way out of their room. The only sound was the crackling of the fire, the warmth it offered was barely enough to cut through the cold tension that filled the air. When he approached her, it was on purpose. He took her hand in his, his touch firm but not unkind, as though he were trying to comfort her in some small way. The girl let out a shaky breath as he guided her to the bed, her body moving on instinct.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the night unfolded like an inevitable crescendo of events. Hesperia laid still, her body sore and heavy, her mind far from quiet. You did the right thing, Hesperia, the voices whispered. He is, after all, your husband now.

Now you belong to him. Now you are his.

It was a chilling thought, one that made her chest constrict with something she could not name. She was not her own anymore, she had been claimed. Not just by Aemond, but by the bloodline, by the cursed legacy that she could not escape. Hesperia closed her eyes, the weight of her thoughts burdening her. She didn't want any of this, she didn't think this was how it would go. Hesperia had always imagined that before she died or broke her curse, she'd manage to find love. Managed to find someone who made her feel warm inside. The girl thought she'd end up kissing a boy as innocently and kind as Ysella did– but her first kiss was during her wedding, a day she dubbed the worst in her life.

She managed to find herself slipping out of the room, wandering the halls before she came across the chambers Ysella resided in for the night. A soft knock and Ysella's voice from the other side brought Hesperia pushing the door into her room. There her sister sat, sleep still claiming the girl yet her eyes wide enough to realize it was Hesperia.

"Hesperia? It's late–"

"Would you mind if I stayed here for the night?"

Ysella sat in thought for a moment before she nodded, making space on her bed before Hesperia climbed in. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Hesperia forced a smile, taking Ysella's hand in hers. "Just deep in thought, that's all... tell me about your day."

Her words made Ysella laugh. "I was with you the entire time."

"I'd find some comfort knowing how it went in your eyes."

Ysella only sighed, laying back on her pillow before recounting everything. The stolen glances from Jace, dancing with him, how the dress she wore was a size too big but the attendants tried to make it work by lacing it too tight. All the while, the younger sister laughed and giggled– as if the voices of their ancestors decided to stop talking and tormenting her for a day. Hesperia hated it, how Ysella could recount it so perfectly without any hint of guilt or exhaustion from the fact that she'd be chained and shackled to the Velaryons in time. "It was perfect," Ysella then said before she drifted back to sleep.

Hesperia was now fully aware that the gods had their favorite, and it wasn't her.

It was Ysella.