House of the Dragon One-shots - Volume 2

^*I Had All And Then Most Of You/Some And Now None Of You - Aemond (3)

By: Goodeapple - Tumblr

Note: I know this chapter is long, but it is so worth it! Some of the best writing I have come across!

Ysilla smiles a false grin, lips stretched too tight over her teeth.

"Thank you Lord.." Ysilla falters and trails off into silence.

Beside her, Daemon slurps from his glass, one leg crossed over the other, a painting of nonchalance. He leans into her and whispers too loudly, "Vahxos."

Ysilla winces at the obviousness of her forgetfulness, trying for a more believable smile for the pudgy, sweet man clad in the light robin egg blue colors of his house. Ysilla never liked herself in blue. She picks that as the reason for this particular suitor's dismissal.

"Thank you Lord Vahxos, for traveling all this way and meeting with me. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening." Ysilla tips her head to him and the man smiles tensely, face flushed a deep pink. He shuffles off to the feast table and Ysilla lets the smile drop from her face.

"Add him to the list." Luke snickers to Jace somewhere behind her, and the answering smack! to the back of their heads brings Ysilla the most happiness she's felt all day.

The great room of Dragonstone is a cacophony of sounds- the flutes and strings of the musicians float above the clink of silverware, the dull roar of conversations, and the booming laughter of the most eligible lords of Westeros. Banners of her house drape from the high ceilings and flowers that bloom in bursts of burnt oranges and lushy greens are bundled in glass jars among the tables. Candles and torches bring warmth to the cool stones and everyone seems to be enjoying the evening's festivities.

All but the guest of honor it's being thrown for.

"You could attempt to look a bit more welcoming, my little love."

The annoyance tinging Rhaenyra's words takes away from the sweet epithet as she settles beside her daughter, clutching Ysilla's chair for support. Her belly, growing ever bigger by the day, billows out her black and red gown and stretches the material until the stitching seems as if it might burst.

Ysilla scoffs in the back of her throat, turning her cheek the opposite direction, finding the table full of drunken Baratheon and Tyrell men fascinating.

"I am as amiable as I can be, mother." Ysilla tries not to spit the words out but she can taste the venom in her mouth. The rage that has swirled in her gut for days has settled into bitter betrayal and she keeps her words blunt whenever they're aimed at her mother.

It's easier to be mad than to be sad because Ysilla worries if she starts to cry, she may never stop.

How could her mother not tell her from the beginning what her plans were? How could she let her continue on, accepting her new reality in King's Landing, growing accustomed to her new duties and surroundings to then just be told to paint her face and make good impressions to the lords of the lands?

Ysilla knows that she will be allowed to reunite with Aemond after this farce concludes, her mother promised her so, but... she worries it may be too late.

"Aemond!" Ysilla hissed, latching onto his forearm, attempting to drag him to a halt. Trying to stop a wild horse would've been a simpler task.

He shakes her off so roughly it twinges something in her shoulder, but at last, he stills, spinning on his heel to face her.

The rage filled glare he shoots at her is a look she hasn't felt since they were children. She hasn't seen it since the night he lost his eye. Her blood pumps cold in her veins.