Abandoned and ignored by her father, Princess Vaella remained at her mother's side. Forced to watch as life went on for those around her, while her mind tortured her. A cacophony of voices whispering of the end of House Targaryen.
Female!OC x Otto...
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The Red Keep's gardens were expansive, sloping hills covered in lush green grass and pathways lined with flowerbeds. Large trees loomed overhead, their branches offering shade from the summer sun. Vaella had wandered off the stone path, cutting through the thick grass in her search for a quiet place, somewhere hidden from the bustle of castle life.
She had found a tree, far enough off the path that many would not notice her if not for the kingsguard stationed nearby. The Princess sat against the base of the tree Sunlight streamed through the leaves above her head, painting her in a golden glow.
A book on the old kings of the mountain and the Vale sat unopened on her lap. Her fingers delicately traced the engraved title as memories of her mother filled her mind.
"Your Grace." A voice called, startling Vaella.
The princess searched the space around her, searching for the source of the voice. Not seeing anything directly in front of her, Vaella peered around the large trunk she had been resting agonist. There over the hedges she spotted three figures.
"Lord Corlys," The familiar voice of Vaella's father greeted. "I'm glad we could meet. I know tempers ran hot today, and I wanted to assure you how much I value the bond between our houses. Rhaenys is my favorite cousin, after all."
Vaella glanced back at the knight tasked with ensuring her protection. Confident the man's back would remain facing her, Vaella slowly crept to the other side of the tree. She reclined back against the tree's base, studying the tops of the figures' heads visible over the hedge.
"I wish to apologize for the tenor at the Small Council today, Your Grace. It was not my intent to make offense." Lord Corlys spoke, his head bobbing slightly with each word.
"Your fleet is one of the realm's most important assets, Lord Corlys. But you must understand, as King, it is my obligation to avoid war until such time it is unavoidable."
"None among us desire open war," Lord Corlys replied, pausing momentarily. "Might I speak plainly, Your Grace?"
"I always welcome the unfettered thoughts of my council."
"I fear that the eyes of our enemies are presently fixed on the Red Keep. The Queen has passed. A girl has been named heir to the Iron Throne, the first in its history," Vaella's hand fell back to the leather binding of her book at the mention of her, finding comfort in tracing the engraving. "The King's brother, so disinherited, has claimed the Targaryen seat on Dragonstone without challenge. And now, a foreign power has established a colony in our most critical shipping lane."
"You paint such an aspiring portrait of my reign, Lord Corlys."
"It is an honest one, cousin," Princess Rhaenys finally spoke up. "At the moment, The Crown is perceived as being vulnerable."
"And a blind incursion in the Stepstones is the only way to demonstrate that we are not?" Viserys reasoned.
"To elude a storm, you can either sail into it, or around it," Lord Corlys remarked. "But you must never await its coming."
"Do you have a specific course of action to propose, my lord?"
Vaella's breath grew shorter and quicker in the silence that followed Viserys's question. She knew that there could be only one reason for Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys to have called on her father, but Vaella didn't want to consider it. To admit such a thing would mean to replace her own mother. Vaella was not foolish, she knew what was expected of her father. She only wanted more time to grieve the loss, to ache for her mother's presence, to dream it was Aemma's hand holding hers instead of her own.
"Join our families. Wed our daughter, Laena. Unite the two great surviving Valyrian houses. With the Targaryen dragons and the Velaryon fleet bound in blood, you can show the realm that the crown's strongest days are ahead, not behind."
"I must admit I haven't given marriage much thought. It hasn't even been half a year since Aemma passed."
"The realm expects you to take a new wife soon or late, Your Grace, to strengthen your line and produce more heirs. You could not ask for a stronger match than Laena."
Vaella's heart raced in her chest, threatening to break through her rib cage. Every inch of Vaella screamed at her to flee, to run away from this situation. She scrambled to her feet, fingers clawing at the fabric of her bodice, trying to dig into her flesh and calm her rapid heartbeat. The book fell from her lap, landing in the dirt at Vaella's feet as she ran from her hidden spot, crashing through bushes and flowerbeds guarding her secret space.
"Princess?" Ser Harrold called after her, his boots pounding against the stone path as he pursued her.
Her lungs burned, aching for the air they were being deprived of. Vaella hurtled through the barely open doors, not giving the castleguard enough time to fully open them. Her body quickly rounded corners, feet threatening to skid out from under her as she raced through the hall. Vaella didn't care if she appeared mad to those she passed, she only wanted to find somewhere quiet to hide away.
Blue eyes glazed over, painting images of swords and blood across her field of vision. The smell of death infiltrated her senses. War, Vaella thought, war was inevitable. Her breathing picked up, coming out as labored gasps of air.
Vaella stumbled, crashing into something solid. Tears welled up in her eyes washing away the visions of the dead. Hands gripped her upper arms, thumbs gently caressing her flesh through the fabric of her sleeves.
Otto glanced around the hall, searching for any sign of life beside the two. Seeing none, he carefully led Vaella through the doorway he had just passed through. Shelves full of scrolls and books towered overhead, hiding the only two occupants the further they moved into the room.
"What's the matter, princess?" Otto asked. His hands stroked over Vaella's arms much like he had comforted Alicent after the death of her mother.
"I-" Vaella choked out, gasping for air. Her hands gripped his forearms, fingers digging into the dark green fabric. She violently shook her head, pulling Otto closer until she was pressed against his chest.
"Princess, I don't think-"
"Please," Vaella begged, desperation clear in her voice. "Hold me, if only for a moment."
"Tell me what you need." Otto whispered, wrapping both of his arms around her.
"Tighter." Vaella muttered.
Otto nodded, tightening his hold on her. He leaned forward slightly, resting more of his weight on her frame. "As you wish."
Vaella, while still tense, relaxed the smallest amount into Otto's embrace, enough so that the man could feel it. He took deep, centering breaths, waiting until Vaella matched her breathing to his.
"I- I thought," Vaella quietly sobbed, wetting the fabric of Otto's tunic with her tears. "There'd be more time."
"It's alright," Otto softly cooed, lifting one of his hands to stroke the back of her head. "All will work out."
The Hand of the King had no sense of how long he held the princess. Standing between shelves, hidden away from the eyes of the Keep.
