LITTLE DRAGONESS || T. Baratheon

) chapter 27. (

) chapter 27. (

NINE months. Nine months have passed since the first battle, which took place around a small town called Stemstone. It was almost time for the climax, the final battle. The bloodiest of them all. People already murmur about the last fight: the Battle of the Weeping Queen, as her tears would shed for either her brother of her husband. 

Little does anyone know that Laeherys would not shed tears anymore, should her brother Viserys die. Her heart was cold for him, filled with hatred and disgust for the actions he had done.

The young Queen, now married twice, looks out of the windows of her bedchambers. Or rather, her prison. The Targaryen woman holds a small child to her breast, on which the little babe suckled, and covers her nudity with a thick blanket.

She had bore Tommen a son, a little prince. The heir of the Iron Throne, but for how long? Viserys had not killed her newborn, but only because she had shackled him to her body. She never let her son unsupervised of herself or Dany, who would never allow anything to happen to her babe.

Over the last months she had grown incredibly close to Dany and her son Rhaego. Rhaego was kind of her preparation for maternity and Dany let her take care of Rhaego as much as she wanted. Dany also let her take care of the three dragons, who grew incredibly fast, but it was not really the same.

But that was all before her marriage to Viserys. Afterwards, she fell into depression. The birth of her son gave her some light back into her life, but also filled her with a new kind of dread. If the war didn't end soon, on the positive side for Tommen, Viserys would have her pregnant with his child.

Laeherys didn't want a child born out of their incest, no matter how much her ancestors would look down on her. She did not want a child that she would disgust because of it's father, the poor kid doesn't deserve that. 

She wasn't supposed to know anything to do with the war, but she got to know anyway through Dany, who got it from Drogo. She knew that Tommen forged an alliance with the Northeners and was marching up to save her.

But her brother had Dothraki. Her brother had Unsullied, Martells and dragons. Could he really be defeated by the army of Jon Snow and the Lannisters? Laeherys didn't bear much hope.

Just a few moons from now and their armies would cross for the last battle. Then it would all be over.. for the better or the worst.

The queen didn't hear the door to her chambers open. Viserys strut in, watching his beauty of a sister as she stands by the window. He clenches his jaw when he sees the babe in her arms. He despises the boy with all his might, with his Targaryen eyes but puffs of Lannister hair.

Viserys sneaks closer to her and wraps his arms around her flat stomach. "Good afternoon, dear wife." "Brother," she says, her voice as chill as snow. Viserys knows that his sister doesn't love him, but he knows she will in the future. When that Lannister boy is dead, she will know that he is the only one for her.

After all, why would the gods give her to him if she wasn't meant to be his, to be taken by him? Why would they gift her to their mother, who had so much difficulty in birthing children, if she was not meant to be his?

Viserys leans his chin on her bare shoulder which was only slightly tanning in the Dornish sun. He sniffs her blonde locks, smelling up the scent of water lilies from the Watergardens and mint. Her delicious perfume, enchanting him in her spell. He couldn't wait for her to be his queen on the Iron Throne, to mate with her and have her birth his offspring.

Laeherys leans away from his face and her soft locks slip out of his fingers. "Whatever you are thinking, it will never happen Viserys. I shall never love you, because my heart belongs to my husband," she snarls. Viserys chews on his lower lip, trying to contain what he calls 'The Dragon'. 

"I will simply ignore that, unless you want me to set The Dragon loose on you. You wouldn't want it to hurt your poor, defenseless little babe, now would you," he asks with a sinister undertone. His lips softly brush against her earshell as he whispers into her ear. 

"Lay down, Laeherys."

)(

RAIN trickles down softly from the dark grey clouds. The whole camp was ready to go to battle any time, but they were also ready for today's events. Today their alliance with the Starks would come and support them. In return, they would get the North to their own and a place on Tommen's council.

The King stands ready to greet the Starks, his generals next to him. His mother was not present, as he did not want to provoke and his mother would certainly provoke. He was dressed in silver armor, the sigil of the Baratheons on his breastplate. A silk red cape was draped over one of his shoulders, giving him an elegant look. Fit for a king, his mother told him when she visited that morning.

The queue of people did not need to wait long, as they quickly heard the sound of hooves crushing the earth beneath them. In front of them was Lord Snow, with his trusted friends and family right behind them. A few feet behind them their gigantic army of Northeners and wildlings. Jon Snow stops right before him and steps off, followed by his council.

King Tommen bows his head for the Lord of the North, his generals copying his example. "I welcome you, Lord Snow," he says. Jon bows his head quite stiffly, followed by the more gracious Lady Sansa and just as stiff Arya and Bran.

"Let's go to war," Jon says curtly, passing Tommen and his generals to go to the King's tent. The young ruler smiles slightly. Finally light at the end of the tunnel.

Just wait Laeherys, you will be back in my arms in no time, Tommen thinks with glee.

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1054 words.