𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓'𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖈𝖞 || kaz brekker

𝐱𝐢𝐢. a villain worth fighting.

❝poor little girl, still waiting for her happy ending.❞

¤

Aeya was not joking when she'd warned her ex tailor not to bring any of their traditional attires.

the maids had rushed into her tent with a bunch of fabric just waiting to be worn. long pieces of wool and cotton tailored to form beautiful keftas with leather belts wrapping nicely around the waistlines and splashes of purple telling her story along the arms and necklines. she was almost upset at what she'd done to get rid of them. the stench of burning was still stuck in the room.

her legs were pulled into the sofa she'd been sat on, and her head was leaned against the back of it, her eyes quietly trailing along the lines of the book she was holding over her knees. her gaze didn't move as Aleksander's figure stepped inside with a scowl.

"what was all that about burning keftas and threatening tailors?" he asked, palms held over his hips in annoyance. "what is it that you want to wear? dothraki rags?"

the girl remained silent, fingers pinching the lower part of her page before flipping it to continue her story. the darkling growled, shoes smacking against the marble floor as he drew closer. "have you forgotten about our little agreement? the Stark boy is still very much under my control."

her lips pulled into a grin as she looked up at him, brows rising in surprise. "is he?" she countered, her nail tapping against the cover of her book as she hummed to herself. "could of sworn I saw him and Mal heading out of camp." her lips pursed for a moment. "weird."

the man's face fell, eyes darknening as he glared down at her. "stand up." she squinted up at him with amusement, willing herself not to laugh. after a moment, she turned back to the paragraphs on her lap.

"stand up." the words sounded harsher, but she simply ignored them.

his body hurled forward, and his arms savagely reached for the book, his fingers wrapping around it so roughly some of the pages crumbled against his touch. the action seemed like nothing compared to the way he threw the ledger into the nearest wall, his hands wrapping around her arms and pulling her to her feet. "hey!" her voice was cut off with a sharp tug.

her feet stumbled against the floor, and she was dragged closer to the opening of the tent, eyes angry and fists balled.

"what the hell are you doing?" she hissed, nose flaring up at him. he remained silent, his legs leading him towards the exit where she watched his head peek out momentarily before he was followed inside by Genya.

gaze set to the floor, her hands landed over her stomach as she walked closer to the princess. she avoided both her looks and the general's. "see that what she wants is taken care of," he mumbles out shortly before his head snaps back down to the shorter girl. "you're not a khaleesi here. you're the queen-to-be of a nation that will shake at the mention of your name alone."

¤

her eyes slowly slide down her body, and her head tilts curiously, hips twisting to reveal her back to the mirror standing in front of her. she smiles, pleased.

"so?" genya's arms cross over her torso, right hand reaching to her lips where she worriedly gnawed on her thumb. Aeya was sure the tailor would go nuts if the dress got the same treatment the keftas did.

the skirts hid the soles of her feet, a circular ring of red fur, -mixing with the black silk right over her skin, surrounded them. right over it was the dress' body; a dark, scaled pleather fabric that formed the outfit's exterior look.