His Love |Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Two

Chapter Warnings: Literal fucking grooming like IDK what else there is. 

☆☆☆

A pounding on your bedroom door woke you. You didn't want to listen as they shouted at you to get up, curling further into your scratchy wool blankets.

Thump, thump, thump, it sounded again. You groaned, slinking off the bed and down the straw mattress, hugging yourself against the cold.

"Yes," you answered the door in a sing-song voice, leaning on the frame. Lyra quickly ran inside your room, shutting the door and locking it from the inside. You looked at her, puzzled, as she ran around, closing the curtains and going into your small wardrobe. "What are you doing?" You asked, following her with your eyes as she scurried like a mouse.

"We must hurry. It will not be long until he is here." Her hair was wild as she found your satchel, shoving as many clothes as she could into it.

You were on her heels in an instant. "What? Who is coming, Lyra?" You attempted to put your hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off, your panic slowly beginning to match hers.

"Make haste, sweet girl. Get your shoes," she pointed at the two lumps of worn brown leather, throwing them when you didn't move.

"Lyra, please speak plainly. You are frightening me," you said softly, fiddling with your thumbs.

At the sound of your timid voice, Lyra finally stopped, turning to you quickly as she saw the expression on your face.

In her panic, she ignored you, forgetting what Madam had told her. Her words had been grave, trusting Lyra with the news that had reached them from the Red Keep. Lyra couldn't tell you the truth; that was made clear to her by Madam. It could make things so much worse, but seeing you standing there, with glassy eyes and a girlish demeanor, so kind and innocent, made her heart melt.

"We-we have to..."

Lyra couldn't do it. She couldn't lie to you. She trusted Madam's judgment to keep this as vague as possible, but she didn't have to speak face-to-face with you. Lyra wished she had been there instead.

"Oh Gods, please forgive me Madam," Lyra begged, cursing herself for what she was about to do, looking up at the ceiling. "Your father is coming. He means to take you away from us."

Your mouth fell open, a dreadful yet excited feeling churning in your stomach. "My father?" You asked, unsure if your sleepy ears deceived you.

"Yes, he is coming here. Please hurry." Lyra shoved as many items as she could fit into the bag, handing you a dark cloak as she unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

Too much time had passed with the whisper game everyone connected to the royal family played. Lyra knew what it would mean for him to come here, but whether it was to kill you or have you be with your blood relatives, she did not know. Either outcome was not something she wanted you to experience.

You were frightened by Lyra's body language as she led you through the candle-lit hallways and down the creaky, wooden stairs. The only way to either exit was through the main floor or down into the cellar, and even then, you would still have to navigate through the working women and their customers. Your father had not made his appearance yet, and Lyra was relieved as you reached the last step that everything seemed normal.

You had never met him, your father, or anyone related to you by blood. Your mother had left her family long before you were conceived. A land that was far to the North, Madam had once told you, but other than that, you had yet to learn where they could be.