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notsoelegantdoewrites · 2 years ago

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The Last Valyrian Warrior

Summary: Every story has a beginning. This is yours.

Daemon Targaryen x Valyrian!Reader/OFC

Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 of The Last Valyrian Warrior Series

AO3

A/N: This is my first published work. Super nervous how it came out. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANY OF MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ANYWHERE

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The day could not have been more perfect. Not a single cloud could be seen, not even from the tallest tower of the Red Keep, leaving the skies miles upon miles away clear as ever. Skies perfect for flying.

It was to be a joyous day as the young Prince Daemon was to celebrate his 7th name day. Normally there would be a grand feast to honor the youngest grandson of the King but Dameon had other plans. After a night of pleading and begging, Prince Baelon had yielded to his son’s insistent plea to not attend the day-long feast and instead fly on top of Vhagar across the Narrow Sea to visit the Free City of Braavos. Ever so ambitious and adventurous was his son. The dragon was beyond capable to hold him and Daemon along with his eldest Viserys on the journey so where was the harm in accommodating the boy’s one request.

Braavos, the northernmost city-state on the western coast of Essos. A city of wealth and song with a history dating back to before the Doom of Valyria. Yet it was not the history that attracted the attention of the boy, it was that of the land and structures in which the city was well known for. The land comprised Sellagoro's Shield, the Drowned Town, and Purple Harbor. Structures included the Iron Bank, the House of Black and White and the Temple of the Moonsingers, and the noteworthy Titan of Braavos. After the lesson in which Daemon learned of the whole of Braavos, all he could imagine was circling the guardian on dragonback. To be able to admire the granite and bronze warrior from up close, and heed his warning roar would be the highlight of his day.

The plan was to fly from the dragonpit in the morning, allowing enough time to travel across the Narrow Sea and arrive somewhere around midday just in time for the Titan’s roar. After a few flights around the perimeter that would allow all three of the princes to set eyes upon the entirety of the city it would be an appropriate time to rest Vhagar and have a quick meal themselves. Then they would return to King’s Landing for the remainder of the feast no matter the hour, for their obligatory appearance that even they could not entirely avoid.

Dameon had been up for hours already, patiently waiting for his father and brother. The servants had already brought him his morning meal and he was all dressed and ready. A knock on his chamber door brought forth his excitement ten fold. His spirits had been at a high since his father agreed to his request. For the first time he was able to celebrate the way he wanted to. Away from the court and their boring chatter, for he was not much into such events to begin with. Even if they were all for him. He was eager as a dog waiting for the hunt and now the time had finally come. He essentially sprinted out his door past his father and down to the courtyard where the coach to bring them to the dragonpit was waiting. He very nearly pushed a few servants down the entrance hall steps in his haste to get past them.

All Baelon could do was smile as he watched his son. It was a smile of pure happiness, the kind that had not spread on his face as often since the Princess Alyssa had passed. No, he would not let sad thoughts ruin his mood. It was Daemon’s name day and to honor his late sister wife, he would continue to honor their son.

The youngest Targaryen was reminded several times by his father to calm down before reaching the pit and furthermore Vhagar. The mighty beast needed to be in a state of calm as well before they were to leave the ground. If she was not already calmed by the dragonkeepers after they brought her out of her cave it would be more difficult to do so if Daemon was not. If they failed, she may choose not to fly at all, abruptly ending the day before it even began. Dragons, such temperamental creatures. No matter how much time was spent in training, if they were adamant about not doing something, what was a mere human going to do?

Once arrived, surprisingly Vhagar seemed more than content, like she herself knew the reasoning behind her being withdrawn. On the dragon’s rider’s approach, she welcomed his familiar touch on her snout and down the length of her skull. The radiant warmth from her core would prove no problem in keeping them warm amongst the wind high in the sky. Daemon along with Viserys soon made their careful advance on Baelon’s behest. The introduction was quick as Vhagar already recognized the boys from previous. Their touch cautious but permitted nonetheless. With the last few preparations finished, each one of them began the ascent upon the dragon and after everyone was situated, with command and strong beats of wing they departed to the skies.

—

Everything proceeded as expected. The Titan’s roar punctured their ears upon midday arrival, leaving a satisfying ringing in its wake. Being in flight around the structure only aided in this. The journey around the perimeter of the city itself was a sight to behold. While many details were obscured due to the height they flew, they still saw its unique and exquisite design.

Here they were now somewhere along the beaches of the Braavosian Coastland for their scheduled rest, indicating that their adventure was at an end. Their mount laid on the sand under the warm sun a ways away as the princes rested upon an outcropping of rocks finishing their small picnic. The sea breeze kept them cool as the sun warmed them as well. Recounting everything he had seen from the skies, with the few interjections from Viserys’ elation, Daemon could not stay still long enough to finish his own provisions. When he had proposed this outing, he did not see it being as glorious. This name day would be one he would not forget but not for this reasoning alone. An unknown matter was to arise, as if by fate, that would affect the many coming years.

At first the smell was masked by that of salty air and dragon. The boys' father was the first to notice as the day grew longer but there was no mistaking it. The aroma of burnt timber emanated from the tree line behind them. Vhagar was still resting so there was no way she could have set something ablaze. Not to mention that scent would have been much stronger than the current. Curiosity was a known killer but for a dragon, it made them all the wiser. Viserys remained oblivious while Daemon was the next to discern the odor, glancing to his father to see if he too had noticed. With Baelon’s attention to the background, he looked to the same path.

“Father?”

“The two of you are to stay put.”

With firm instruction given, he raised from his seat to proceed and find the source. The trees and soil were thoroughly soaked as if it had been rained upon for many hours. Being that they were bordering the Shivering Sea it very well could have the day prior. Another reason as to why the smell was suppressed. It was not long before he came upon the grievous site. What appeared to be a small cabin now laid burnt down to nothing, only a few structural supports left indicating that a home once resided here. Rain must have dosed the flames before anyone was to notice the inferno and the smoke that should have billowed from it. He was no stranger to death by fire and wished that if the inhabitants were victims, that they died quickly. Burning was not painless. Just as he was about to make his leave, a tiny sneeze was heard from somewhere close by. It was loud enough for it not to have been his sons for he had told them to stay put on the shore. This only meant that whoever did live here survived.

Another sneeze gave away this individual’s position. Amongst the surrounding trees, a child no more than the age of 3 was seen sitting on the ground viewing this silver haired stranger through the same gap of foliage. They were covered in a layer of mud that laid on top of a layer of residual soot and ash, covering their features from head to toe. No visible injuries could be seen and hopefully none were hidden beneath the filth. Being so young it was also challenging to determine this child’s gender at that time.

Gentle hands of a father stretched forward with palms facing upward, a tell tale sign of meaning no harm, the prince slowly approached. His main goal at present was to not scare the child and have them running off. Upon his closer proximity he could see what lay just mere inches from the babe, the remains of a mother desperately trying to save her own flesh and blood. Burns of all stages adorned her skin. They along with the inhalation of smoke certainly was the becoming of her untimely end. Once content that he would not lose this child to fear, he kneeled next to the woman to establish that she was indeed gone as she was beyond cold to the touch. Looking up, his sympathy was overtaken by shock, for the eyes he met were eyes of Old Valyria. A vibrant lilac pierced his violet. The only difference from that of the eyes he sees everyday from his Valyrian kin was that of the azure band encircling their iris, a trait only known to him from written history of his ancestral home. Further inspection of the late woman revealed silver strands under a type of thick black ink. Most likely something similar would be found on her offspring’s head as well. To hide their true lineage could only mean this mother was trying to protect themselves, an act proven to be done unsuccessfully.

With this hereditary discovery, Baelon now felt a sense of responsibility to assume care of this youngling. No doubt his action would raise intense deliberation of what to do with the child once back in King’s Landing but nothing in that moment could sway his mind. Shifting to place himself in front of them blocking their view of the departed while still maintaining a kneeling position, he reached out again.

“It is alright now. No harm will come to you from me.”

“Muña.” (Mother.)

To hear the tongue of Valyria amongst soft sniffles, he considered that this may be all they could understand and perhaps responding the same would be just the advantage he needed. So, he tried.

“Māzigon byka mēre.” (Come little one.)

That was all it took. Three simple words and the trust he was hoping to gain came without hesitation as the child stood. Taking those few steps forward, stumbling on bare feet, they moved into his awaiting embrace. He should have known not to expect his own children to do as he asked as easily. The two, when together, were always engrossed in being involved or spying on matters that did not concern them. It was persistently that of Daemon's cunningness that led to his brother's involvement in most cases. To be fair they would have found out what transpired but the intention was for them to stay safely on the beach. Turning, upon standing, to find both of them there with fixed stares at the child in his arms did not come to surprise him. They would have questions but he merely moved in their direction and led them back the way they came before they could voice them. It was when they returned to the coast that Viserys spoke out, being kind and good-natured as always.

“Are they going to be coming with us?”

“Yes. Whoever this little one is, they are of Valyrian descent and speak our true tongue. They will be better suited with us, would you not agree?”

Daemon, who had remained quiet, now seemed interested at the mention of his house’s origin.

“The woman, was she Valyrian as well?”

“Under her current guise.”

“Will you leave her like that?”

“I would not like to. With the state of this one though, likely been in the open for some time, it would be wise to soon return to the Red Keep.”

His father’s words saddened him even though he would not outwardly express it. Anyone of Valyrian blood did not deserve to be left in such a state. At this point exhaustion seemed to take hold of the child as their head now laid in the crook of Baelon’s neck with hooded eyes. It was the type of exhaustion that had their rescuer believing that they would fall into a peaceful slumber. Mere minutes would pass before they finally succumbed and would remain that way top Vhagar for the entirety of the returning voyage, being safely wrapped in comforting arms.

—

Cheers echoed throughout the Great Hall as the young princes entered the epilogue of the festivity, Daemon being overwhelmed with attention as it was him they had all gathered to celebrate and Viserys greeting familiar faces as he followed behind. Baelon remained by the large oak doors and watched as they became one with the crowd before he simply slipped into the shadows behind him with the child that clung tightly to him. Now awake, they no doubt must have felt a similar sense of overwhelment as the guest of honor. This sensation, though, came from being in an unknown place and hearing unknown loud-voiced party goers. Once the two had made their way to a more quiet part of the Red Keep, the tight grip on his tunic loosened. It was a peaceful walk that let the little one's eyes wander and absorb the surrounding embellishments and architecture of their new home. Upon arriving at his chambers, he immediately sent for a handmaid to help in bathing the child as well as the maester.

It started out being difficult in getting the child into the arms of the handmaid that had filled the bath. A trust had not been established which led to this predicament. Only after assuring words in Valyrian by the only present speaker did they finally relent. The next challenge was getting them into the water. Another battle was fought against the woman as she started to remove the soiled garments that were plastered to skin. Whines and grunts of annoyance echoed from both parties within the suite until it finally got to the point where Baleon decided to intervene. He undressed and lowered the child into the water himself before handing over the task to the one meant to perform it. The water slowly began to turn to muck and the beautiful little girl beneath was unveiled. The warmth and scrubbing she received caused a flush to adorn her skin. It took some effort but eventually the black ink rid itself from her true hue of silver locks. She seemed to have warmed up to the handmaid, most likely due to the soft reassuring touches that graced her skin. Those bright Valyrian eyes ventured up from their focus on the water to the kind smile of her bather. A calmness finally settled in and the tenseness of her shoulders melted. After being pulled from the tub reasonably cleaned and wrapped in a blanket to help dry and stave off the cold, the maester finally arrived, effectively undoing her calm disposition. She utterly refused to let him near her, kicking and pushing in his direction to try and get away. Compared to when she first met Baelon, this was a complete turn around in attitude. Yes, she did not originally want to be near the handmaid but she remained passive with no signs of aggression. Perhaps she did not act this way at all towards the Targaryen due to shared similarities between him, herself, and her late mother. Ultimately an assessment, done as quick as feasibly possible, proved no physical ailment.

It could not have been more than an hour later after they initially arrived at his chambers that a quietness filled the room with the maester gone and the child's attention diverted. She was now dressed in suitable sleep wear for a 3 year old and sitting in front of the hearth being fed by the handmaid. Baelon sat with his own plate, gaze set on the serenity before him when a knock came from the door. A knight of the kingsguard entered, announcing the arrival of King Jaehaerys. That had had the king’s own son and the handmaid rise from their respective positions. The maid merely bowed her head before being waved off by the king to continue on with her duty.

“I was informed you came upon a child along your journey.”

“Yes we did.”

“A child you decided in bringing back?”

“She possesses the essence of Old Valyria father.”

The revelation seemed to catch the eldest of the current Targaryen line off guard. Upon hearing about this new resident he was prepared to send them to the servants quarters to be raised and trained as one of them. He was not prepared in deciding the fate of a Valyrian child. His very eyes now laid on said child and was in fact met instantaneously with his son’s finding. Notably he was drawn to her features, most importantly to her eyes. He too was shocked at the discovery. For someone of her descent to be around after the Doom was a miracle. Questions began to flood his mind by just looking. Who was she? Was she the only one left? Where was she hidden all this time? Soon though the questions dissolved as he thought through the situation that brought her here and his shock gave way to acceptance as he moved further into the room to inspect her more. It was a quick acceptance, the same that Baelon had undergone when he himself saw her.

“She will be your responsibility, as if she were one of your own. Understand?”

“I doubted no less.”

“We will discuss as well how to approach her heritage on the morrow.”

“Is that truly the path you want to take with her?”

“By her birthright it would be an injustice to forgo it. We will see it through and in due time she will become who she was meant to be.”

Leaving no room to question, Jaehaerys turned on his heel and departed, for his word was final. Baelon would not disobey. After all, he was the one to rescue her knowing exactly that it would start her down this course. The voice of the handmaiden calling him by his title drew his attention. She stood there with the babe in her arms, her head resting tiredly on the woman’s shoulder as a yawn escaped her.

“Shall I prepare one of the spare chambers for her?”

“No. That will not be necessary. She will stay here for the night. Her permanent place can be dealt with later.”

She simply nodded before he took the child from her. After turning down the sheets and gathering the dining ware, he dismissed her. He was no stranger to tucking a child in without assistance. He had done it many times with his own children after the loss of their mother, wanting to spend a little more of his time with them. They had now grown out of such simple things but the muscle memory remained. He laid her down against his pillow and brought the covers to her chin. She would have the bed to herself as he did not see himself sleeping anyway. His mind would continue to run rampant until he would eventually fall to the embrace of slumber in the armchair he occupied while he merely watched her for most of the night.

Before that would come to pass though, sleepy eyes as they drifted closed would see the tender smile that graced Baelon’s face. Soft clean skin would feel the kind touch he left behind in his movements. This exact moment would become your first memory. The memory that would soon replace everything you knew about the life you had previously. While growing up within the walls of the Red Keep you would know you were not born to this family, but a ward. So, when you would try to recall any of those early memories nothing would come, not a single face nor place. All you would remember is this, the start of your new life. What a life it would turn out to be, for you are the last Valyrian warrior pledged to House Targaryen.

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