#I fear for what they would to do Queen Rhaena Targaryen

[ladyadaine]

Y'all, where is Alysanne "Black Aly" Blackwood, who slew Ser Amos Bracken with a weirwood arrow during the battle of the Burning Mill and commanded three hundred archers of the riverlands? Where is the Lady Sabitha Frey, "who would sooner ride than dance, wore mail instead of silk, and was fond of killing men and kissing women"? The two shared a tent during the campaign but I doubt we'll see that

We saw the Lady Jeyne Arryn, but got no mention to the fact that she was rumored to prefer women. Where is Jeyne's dear companion Jessamyn Redfort and didn't one the few female rulers in westerosi history say her iconic line "In this world of men, we women must band together"?

They're erasing our sapphics and I won't stand for it

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

1.04

Your heart was still racing from witnessing Alicent slap Aegon across the face. The paleness of the skin on his cheek was now red and slightly swollen. Your heart bled for him; he was drunk and confused. Nothing that had transpired within the past few hours was his fault.

The queen’s handmaiden, Talya, had subtly moved you and Helaena further back from everyone else in the room as more people arrived.

The knight who escorted you to the great hall in Driftmark only said there was an incident; he never let on who was involved or what happened. Your younger brother, Aemond, had bonded with Vhagar, the queen of all dragons. Upsetting the late Lady Laena’s daughters Baela and Rhaena, which somehow resulted in an altercation involving the two girls, Jacaerys and Lucerys.

As a result of whatever transpired, Aemond lost his eye, and Lucerys was being blamed. Luke was a sweet child; you doubted any act of violence was unprompted, but then Aemond didn’t deserve the pain he was suffering.

You tilt your head closer to Helaena, who was almost the same height as you. “If ābri sia taught bona ziry iksos daor possible naejot laodigon iā zaldrīzes, bisa could emagon issare avoided.” (If ladies were taught that it's not possible to steal a dragon, this could have been avoided.)

“Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?” (What do you mean?)

“If Vhagar didn't jaelagon naejot sagon ridden ondoso īlva lēkia, ziry would emagon zaltan iā iprattan zirȳla.” (If Vhagar didn't wish to be ridden by our brother, she would have burned or ate him.)

“He had to close an eye.”

You examine your nephews from afar; you wanted to comfort them but would not cross the room to stand with Rhaenyra. Your heart clenches. You felt torn and stayed standing in the middle of the room, not wanting to pick a side. Part of you felt ashamed, not rushing to Jace and Luke’s defence, but each time your mouth would form the shape of words, Talya would give you a look that would then silence you.

You notice Aegon’s hand trembling as Maester Mellos tends to the wound on Aemond’s face that stretches from his cheekbone to his forehead.

“Bro-”

It was hard to hear with various voices yelling their version of events, yet it was your oldest nephew's whisper that was heard by all. “He called us bastards.”

A look appears in Rhaenyra’s eyes that you’ve never seen before: fear. She claps hold of Jacaerys hand. “My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent’s eyes gloss over. “My son has lost an eye.”

“You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?” The king's cain thumps against the floor as he storms towards Aemond, “Tell me who spoke these lies so I can cut their tongue from their mouth.”

You catch Aegon’s eye, and he slowly shakes his head. He may have called Rhaenyra a whore and her sons bastards in front of you, but you believed from the look on his face that he never said it to anyone else.

“Aemond!” Your father slams his stick into the ground. “I am your king, and I demand you tell me at once!”

Aemond glances up at his mother, who is standing beside him Alicent gives him a pleading look. Gulping down, Aemond looks directly at his older brother, putting the blame on him. Quietly he mumbles, “It was Aegon.”

Aegon looks hurt, “me?”

Your father has a murderous glare in his eyes as he goes towards Aegon. “And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies? Aegon!” Frustrated, he yells in his face. “Tell me the truth of it!”

“The insult was first said in the training yard, your grace. I’ve heard different lords sons saying it.” You weren’t lying; of course it was obvious to everyone aside from the king himself that the ‘rumours’ originally came from the queen herself. “Those boys who are the ones that should be sharply questioned, not your own sons.”

“You, girl,” the king now stands directly in front of you, his rotten-smelling breath warm in your face. “You should be standing beside Rhaenyra, your sister, my heir. Aemma would be ashamed of you.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Even the king's own brother, Prince Daemon, looks stunned by his brothers harsh words. You take a deep breath when your lips start to tremble. The blood of the dragon does not weep. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how deep his words had cut.

Alicent places her hand on top of the pendant, her fingers tracing the seven-pointed star, the symbol of her faith. She gasps, “Viserys.”

Aegon steps forward and looks directly at your nephews and sister. “We know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

—

“I’m glad you left when you did, Princess, before the violence started. The maester who stitched Princess Rhaenyra's wound said it would heal.”

Knowing you were humiliated by your father's words, the queen ordered Ser Criston to escort you back to the bedchambers you were staying in, and during that time a struggle broke out between Alicent and Rhaenyra. Alicent tried to cut Lucerys eye out with the king's own dagger as an act of revenge, and Rhaenyra put herself between her son and the blade. Although Alicent’s actions were wrong, you blamed your father for not taking Aemond’s injury seriously in the first place.

“Thank you, Flora,” you say, stepping away from your handmaiden as she finished unclasping your hair from the braids you slept in. “I do not wish to speak of what happened anymore.”

“Very well, princess. Which dress would you like to wear while returning home?”

“The ivory dress.”

Nodding, she picks up the soft material with scale-like patterns embroidered into it and helps you step into the dress before fastening it at the back. “May I ask you something, princess?���

You look at Flora over your shoulder and say, “Yes.”

“Forgive me if this is out of turn, but what do you think will happen now? Will you remain in the keep, or do you think the king will force you to go Dragonstone?”

“I—” taking a shuddering breath, you stare at the tapestry hanging above the fireplace of a ship sailing through a storm. “I am unsure. I’m presuming the king will act fast to find me another husband. Preferably one far enough away that he will not need to see me again.”

Flora finishes lacing the dress and steps back to admire it. She wasn’t much older than yourself and seemed just as lonely as you did at court. “If you do go somewhere else, I hope the king allows me to serve you there.”

Her kind words push the tears that were already threatening to spill from your eyes out. How was it possible your handmaiden would want to be near you when your own father could not? You reach for Flora’s hand, and she says nothing as you sob.

—

While most of the royal party go aboard the ship near ready to set sail for the red keep, you look up at the rocks behind you and see Sunfyre resting his head next to Aegon, who lovingly caresses his golden scales. The only time you saw a true smile on your brother's face was when he was with his dragon.

“Would you like to touch him?”

“What?”

“Would you like to touch him?” Aegon’s asks, and he turns his head in your direction with a hopeful look on his face. “He won’t bite you in half.”

It was always a risk approaching a dragon that wasn’t your own. Most dragons had handlers beside their riders, and you doubted Aegon would risk your life. As you walk over to them, Ghost tilts their head to the side, observing you, and makes an almost purring sound, “Ao sagon iēdrosa ñuha favorite.” (You're still my favorite.)

When you reach them Aegon sees you hesitate and grabs your hand, pulling you closer, then places your hand on top of Sunfyre’s scales.

“He is truly beautiful.”

“The most beautiful in the world,” Aegon says proudly. “My golden boy.”

You remove your hand from the dragon's scales, and Sunfyre nudges Aegon in the chest with his snout. It was amusing to watch them be so playful together.

Sighing, you glance down at the ship, and your eyes land directly on your father. “I’m not looking forward to the journey home.”

“I’m not going with them.”

“No? Have you found another family to join instead?”

“The gods aren’t kind enough to grant me another family,” he tuts. “I’m flying on dragon back. Care to join me?”

Now that he suggested it, you wanted nothing more. “Let’s go then; even better, let’s make it a race!”

—

Dinner was awkward; it was mainly in silence. Your father had spoken a few times but not once had you, the queen, or any of your siblings responded. The mood was much lighter until he suddenly appeared.

Though you had worn the pale gold dress Alicent gifted you, the material wasn’t as thick as your other gowns. Feel a slight chill as you straighten your legs out and rub your ankles together, trying to get some heat.

“Are you cold?” Aegon asks, in a low voice.

You open your mouth to reply, but noticing your father looking in your direction, you say nothing and nod in response to Aegon’s question.

When the table is cleared, Helaena speaks up, “Can I return to my chambers?”

“No yet,” Alicent smiles at her before looking to her father. Otto mouths something you cannot hear. Clearing her throat, the queen stands up and holds up her cup. “The last few days have been difficult, but we now have something to celebrate. A betrothal between Prince Aegon and princess y/n has been purposed, and both myself and the king are in agreement that it would be a perfect match.”

The rest of her words disappear as everything becomes a blur. Was this real? Both Aemond and Helaena seem pleased for you, but when you turn to look at Aegon, he’s gone.

—

You find you’re betrothed in the cellars of the keep, standing in front of the skull of Balerion, the black dread. You always wondered if the largest and most fierce dragon that ever lived, that was once ridden by Aegon the Conqueror himself, dying not long after your father bonded with him, could be considered a bad omen.

In the glow of the flames, Aegon looks breathtaking—a true Targaryen.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I come here sometimes to find comfort.”

Aegon continues to stare straight ahead as he asks, “Do you want to marry me?”

Under different circumstances, you would have laughed because what a woman wanted in a society ruled by men didn’t matter. You gulp down, “I’ve always accepted that I’ll most likely die in the birthing bed as my mother did. Death by duty. And when I was betrothed to Ser Harwin, I assumed that my fate would be giving him heirs until I no longer could. But now it’s different.”

Aegon’s eyes are clouded with uncertainty when he finally looks at you. “How?”

“I think a life with you would be worth the risk.”

[bonniebird]

Summary: When Rhaenyra summons the dragon seed to try and claim more dragons she is hesitant to allow Daemon's bastard to try but Baela is quick to advocate for her sister's right to try and claim a dragon. After years of attempting to take the girl from her adoptive family, under the impression that they were using her for their own gain, Rhaenyra finally manages to make headway with (Y/N).

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Bastard!Targ!Reader / Baela Targaryen x Bastard!Targ!FemReader

Read on Wattpad

Read on AO3

Rhaenyra paused as she spoke. It caused her to stutter and she had to quickly guard herself and continue with her speech as a half smile flickered over her face. She had hoped that perhaps the girl would come. Though she had doubted it. Over the years she had tried to convince the family that took the girl in to give her to Daemon.

Daemon had always agreed that if she wished for the girl to live on Dragonstone that he would support Rhaenyra’s wish. There had been no rush beyond the girl's wish to meet their sister and Rhaenyra’s conviction that it was the right thing to do. Neither she or Daemon ever said it out loud but since her father had died both had a silent fear that the girl would claim a dragon or egg and join the usurpers in the Red Keep. When Rhaenyra finished she turned to the girl who was moving with the crowd towards the dragon pit. A hand grabbed at her arm and held her in place.

“Baela?!” She said in quiet surprise.

“I have seen her too.” Baela said and nodded to the figure vanishing between taller silhouettes. “She has too much of my father in her to be a stranger.”

“Then you understand that I have to stop her…” Rhaenyra started but Baela gave her a distasteful look.

“Why should she be robbed of a birthright that may be hers? She knows the risk. You and Daemon helped Rhaena try to claim the same dragons.” Baela was firm and confident as she spoke with the authority of the future queen consort.

“I have lost enough children.” Rhaenyra said softly and Baela pulled back with a sigh.

“She will never be one of us if you stop her.” Baela warned and Rhaenyra reluctantly gave in.

As she called Vermithor forward and gave her second speech she couldn’t help but look at you over and over as if every face in the room had become yours. It took Baela glaring at her from the doorway to have her move forward as she had originally planned.

The claiming was awful. Despite her guards begging her to leave, Rhaenyra stayed and searched the faces of the bodies. There was a small part of her that wanted each one of them to be you. The part of her that was wounded by your rejection of her attempts to herd you among her fledgling dragon children. The mother dragon within her was sickly pleased when careful inspection allowed her to be sure that none of the fallen were you. At least not yet.

***************************

Breath ripped at your throat as you ducked behind a large rock. Sweat clung to your body unpleasantly and soaked into your clothes. The rock dug into your back, burning as if it were on fire. The large dragon surged forward and you managed to dart behind it before it finished eating whoever it had tossed into the air. From the corner of your eye you saw a man running towards a tunnel. Glancing towards the platform you realised that to get out that way, you would have to pass the dragon and avoid it while climbing up. With a nod to yourself, you pushed off the rock and ran as fast as you could towards the tunnel. You managed to pass the man only to have to duck under a torrent of fire that made the air ripple with unbearable heat that made your head throb and ache.

“Move kid!” The man said and collided with you. Because of your crouched position, you lost your balance and he sent you rolling and thumping down a large hill of rock and bones. Each thump and bump shot you deeper into the cave and you ended up landing on hard stone with a pained grunt. The sound of your pain caused, what you had thought was a rock, to turn quickly and screech at you. With a panicked cry you pushed up onto your elbows and crawled backwards as the dragon clawed its way towards you. It was much smaller than the other dragon. It seemed uncertain of you which allowed you to get halfway up the death-strewn hill that you had fallen down. But with each crawled step backwards, the dragon came forward. It screeched at you and you snatched at the skull of some small animal that lay among loose rocks. Throwing it, there was a satisfying hollow sound as it smacked into the dragon's head causing it to shake itself. Taking the advantage you turned and scrambled desperately up the hill and into the open space. There was an angry sound behind you and you felt the unsteady ground vibrate the smaller dragon dove towards you but twisted in the air to avoid a spout of flames and the swing of a massive tail. You found yourself colliding with hot-scaled flesh and the flash of an eye passing yours. There was a long pause and when whatever was obscuring your view moved you found a familiar man standing before the massive beast. Something gently nudged your elbow and you let out a startled yell as you found the smaller dragon next to you. Stumbling as you found your feet you found the dragon allowed you to lean your weight on its snout and it cooed softly at you. Reaching out a gentle, hesitant hand, you stroked the dragon's snout and smiled. Warm air puffed out over your body as the dragon blinked and continued to make soft noises.

********************

“Hugh.” You said and smiled as the man turned to you. The guard who had led you to a room quickly left and you found yourself embraced by the blacksmith.

“(Y/N)! Child. Of course, you survived.” He smiled and held your head in his large hands. Your smaller hand rested on his.

“I am sorry. About your daughter. My mother wanted us to come and help but the Hightowers… They took my brothers and forced my father to work his men to death. We were too afraid.” You said quietly. Hugh’s face creased as he frowned and he nodded.

“The guilt is not yours to bear. In times like these, we do as we must. But I appreciate it all the same.” Hugh said wisely and stepped away from you. He bowed his head and when you turned you found the dragon queen and her son waiting for the two of you.

“With you in our ranks, the Hightowers will not be able to continue their tyranny. Your true father will ride his dragon from Harrenhall and avenge those that were wronged.” Rhaenyra said and smiled as she reached out to you. She moved to embrace you as Hugh had. 

“My true father.” You spat out and she froze. The boy behind her clutched the sword on his hip until his knuckles went white. “My true father is the master builder of King’s Landing. He risks his life helping people escape the city.”

“I meant no offence.” Rhaenyra said quickly. You glared at her and turned to Hugh.

“We should go back home.” You said in a much gentler tone. Hugh went to speak but he was cut off.

“You would align yourself with the usurpers!? Are you so disloyal?” The prince accused.

“I would burn down the gates of the city so that my family can escape! I came here simply to find a way to defend myself. Now I have it. I did not swear oaths to any of you.” You snapped at him. His face twisted and Rhaenyra moved to calm him but he had already stepped closer and jabbed a finger towards you.

“You belong to a great legacy! Your father’s blood has given you that dragon!” He shouted. He allowed himself to be pulled backwards and away from you. 

“Consider it a debt that my sire owed my parents.” You said and then gave a sarcastic half-bow. “With all due respect.” With that, you left the room. The corridors were complicated but it didn’t take long to find the front doors. 

*************************************

Reaching the docks of Dragonstone you realised that you had no way of getting home. The dragon from earlier landed not too far away and watched you curiously, croaking and humming. A green dragon of similar size landed next to it and a familiar-looking girl got down from the saddle on its back.

“You won't survive. They have weapons large enough to kill a dragon that size.” She said as she pointed at the dragon. In the daylight, you could see that the dragon was black and grey with occasional specks of gold and red. “That’s if you don’t come up against Vhagar.” As she spoke the girl approached and took off a set of leather gloves. She held out her hand which you didn’t take.

“I know who you are and I won't change my mind.” You muttered and looked around to see if any of the people around the docks owned the boats in the water.

“I am not here to change your mind. Simply to warn you. I am sorry. For what Jace said.” She said and looked at you hopefully. You reached in your pocket. Your family had given you three gold pieces. Almost all of their money left after the blockade made the price of food skyrocket. You doubted it would be enough to pay anyone to take you home.

“It’s kind of you to pretend you care.” You said genuinely. Baela frowned and scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“You are the one that rejects us.” She snapped. You turned, stepping towards her with a stride that belonged to your father.

“Me? You all leave me to suffer and beg on the streets as an infant and then when you need me you demand that I turn my back on the family that struggled and fought to raise me.” You seethed, not seeing the golden dragon gliding down the beach towards the docks. “You all act as if I am wrong to want to go back and save them. They gave everything to save me! They thought… that HE would be here. Of course not. The royal whore wouldn’t be here. You want the dragon?! Keep it!” You shouted at Baela whose eyes were watering as she tried to keep calm.

“Enough! Baela, take Moondancer to patrol the beach.” Rhaenyra said as she reached the two of you. She looked down at the floor and fled. You sniffed and rubbed your eyes and nose on your sleeve and turned away from Rhaenyra. Looking up to dissipate your tears you waited to be scolded or shouted at or imprisoned.

“I am sorry.” Rhaenyra’s words startled you enough to have you turn to look at her sharply.

“What?” The quiet reply hung in the air for a moment.

“I… I have found a great deal of comfort in being a mother. I know where I stand with Baela and Rhaena. But I. I have misstepped with you. And I am sorry.”

“You offered to buy me from my parents. I remember.” You said and her eyes widened as you stared at her blankly.

“I had been told that you were adopted into a family that was struggling. That your life with them was paid for by your working for them.” Rhaenyra said softly and blinked several times. “I was misinformed?”

“Yes!” A tear-heavy sigh stuttered out of your chest and you sniffed, giving up hiding your pain. “I have been raised no differently from my brothers. Even when they struggled. They even have a dowry for me… some tools and a workhorse. Nothing like a dowry you would have had.”

“A fine. Appropriate offering. For the daughter of a city builder.” Rhaenyra said firmly and sounded as if she would argue that point with anyone who challenged her. “I must beg you not to return to the city. With a dragon of your own, your life will be in danger. We will find a way to help your family.” Rhaenyra waited for an answer and watched you glance up to Moondancer.

“I should not have… she meant well.” You muttered and Rhaenyra let out a light laugh.

“Baela is reasonable. Very clever and loving. If you make an effort to make amends she will forgive.” Rhaenyra advised. She watched you glance to the sea towards King’s Landing as if you could see it and your family waiting for you. “We must decide how to repay your parents.”

“What do you mean?” You asked dubiously. She had crept up on you almost silently. Moving forward, you could almost see the urge to take up your hand in hers battling with her self-control.  

“I have been disrespectful. Your family worked hard for my father’s city. They took on and raised the child of a prince as their own. They have done well.” At that, you scoffed and she smiled a little before continuing. “A lordship perhaps.”

“No. My father will never accept it. Not unless he has worked for it. But… he has petitions. Part of the city is sinking and it needs to expand. He needs more men and funds.” You explained and Rhaenyra frowned.

“My father did not hear these petitions?” Rhaenyra said as the two of you walked together away from the dock and towards the dragons. Syrax sniffed at the smaller dragon who cooed and submitted to her as if dazzled by her golden scales.

“My mother said the Hightowers have been ruling long before the king died. The queen always dismissed him. Or her father did anyway.” You confessed and Rhaenyra nodded.

“Very well. I will ensure that I hear him. Perhaps I should need a man like him on my council once I take King’s Landing. But… I would like to. To legitimise you.” Rhaenyra stopped short when you froze and stared at her.

“Will I have to leave my family?” You asked. She sighed and shook her head.

“No. I do not think it will be necessary. they may reside with you in the Red Keep. If they wish. But… It does not sit well with me to allow my husband to neglect you. We are partners where he falls short. I must make up.” Rhaenyra said firmly. You gave her a dubious look but said nothing. You had nothing but snide comments to say about the man.

“I do not know what to say.” You said eventually.

“Say that you will not go to King’s Landing alone. Allow me to find a way to help. Please.” Rhaenyra said with a smile and finally caved, reaching for your hand. You allowed her to take it, staring down at the strange gentle embrace as Baela landed Moondancer.

“I… will not. I will wait.” You said and glanced at Baela. Rhaenyra let go of your hand and gestured for you to leave. You hurried to Baela who gave you a cold look.

“I am sorry!” You said urgently. She dismounted neatly and patted the dragon’s neck. 

“For someone who has nothing but blood in common with my father. You are certainly just like him.” Baela said cooly as she stepped towards you. She looked at your dragon who trilled at Moondancer who looked rather annoyed at the attention of the young dragon. “What have you named him?”

“He? He doesn’t have one?” You asked. Baela shook her head and started to walk up the beach to a large cave. You watched Rhaenyra take to the air with Syrax before looking back at Baela who had stopped to wait for you.

“He was born… shortly before I was. Rhaenyra upset my father. She said he was yours.” She smiled at you and you hurried to keep up with her.

“I don’t know what I should call him. You know more about them than I… what do you think?” You asked. She laughed and glanced back at the dragons who were in the air, gliding over the water together.

“That is your choice. But perhaps I should teach you what I know of being a rider. My grandmother was a great dragon rider.” Baela sighed and continued walking. “I had heard that. She was kind too. Baela I am sorry. I should not have…” You started and she stopped.

“Our father… my… father. Daemon. He is a complicated man. Rhaenyra will do her best by us. It is in her nature but Daemon will do as he pleases. But you and I are sisters. We are not our… Daemon. I understand the pain he can cause more than anyone else will. I forgive you. But we must stand together.” She said in a tone that was queen-like in its tone.

“I have never had sisters. Brothers do not tend to stand together.” You said and smiled as you thought of your brother's roughhousing.

“Tell me about them?” Baela asked as she stopped at the mouth of the large cave to watch the dragons ride the low sea winds as they swirled together through the air.

[fastlikealambo]

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you. 

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jace lived, Helaena lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit.  During the short war, Rhaenyra married Mysaria and one year after the dance of dragons ended, she also married Alicent.

Some other notes: This is dark and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties. 

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

Chapter One.

Chapter Two: All that you are is transformed.

 “I wish to be anointed.”

   “Anointed?” 

The question did not come from Princess Rhaenys but from Queen Rhaenyra herself, who sat forward on the throne. You dared to allow your eyes to meet hers and her gaze, though formidable, was not cold, simply curious. 

  “I’m smallfolk, Your Grace.  I do not carry the rank or protection of a house, everything you see before you is all that I am. To be by your side would be a blessing, not only to me, but to those who serve you, to all smallfolk. Anoint me, Your Grace, and you anoint yourself.”

Where in all the gods did that come from?

Didn’t matter.

    “Shall we continue on, Your Grace?” Rhaenys asked but Queen Rhaenyra lifted her hand and beckoned you closer.

 You forced one foot in front of the other until you were in front of the dragon queen, your face reflecting in the famed sword Dark Sister, the queen rested one hand on its hilt, the other was outstretched to you.

No, you would not go back to mending dresses and waiting for good bread. You would not die today, not tomorrow, nor the next day.

 You bowed before Rhaenyra and her hand found your cheek, a calloused thumb brushed away your tears. 

   “You believe yourself capable to rule next to me? To forsake all that you have known, all that you are, to be mine and only mine, my lady?”

No one had called you their lady before, much less a lady.

   For your mother, for yourself, you took Rhaenyra’s hand that held your face and put it over your heart.

     “All I ask is for my mother to be safe and never know hunger again. With that I’m yours, Your Grace.”

  You released the queen, only then remembering there were other people in the throne room.

Perhaps you had overestimated yourself, you should have been more demure,curtsied better. Perhaps if you told the truth, confessed that you were wearing a dress stolen from the back of a noble lady you murdered, the queen would show you mercy.

There was no going back now.

Queen Rhaenyra stood and you curtsied again, a sudden storm of fear sweeping over you that calmed when Rhaenyra bent forward and put her lips on your forehead, each cheek,and lastly your lips. 

To know the mouth of the dragon queen was to know The Gods themselves.

  “Send the rest away, I have chosen. “ Rhaeyra ordered and took your hand in hers.

    “I believe the gods have brought you to me for a reason and you will be safe here. Come, we will get you settled in and then I will introduce you to my wives.” Queen Rhaenyra said and suddenly you felt dizzy.

Was this really happening?

Had your fate truly been transformed?

As you two took your leave, a crowd entered the throne room, the not chosen ladies clambering to see who was chosen.

 You spotted your former employer’s daughters and watched their eyes widen at the sight of you on the queen’s arm. They pushed and shoved their way to the front, shrieking.

  “Do you know them?” Princess Rhaenys asked, studying you for a moment.

You made complete and total eye contact with both girls before letting the Queen lead you on.

  “No, I do not believe I do.”

Just a little something to tide you over! Hope you liked it!

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

[midnight--sadness]

Giving dragons to non-dragonriding Targaryens.

(Note: this makes no sense in terms of timelines, it is just for fun! 😊)

Daenerys: Morning -- no great philosophical reason, I just think my girl deserves a pretty pink dragon

Daella: Viserion -- he is such a gentle dragon, she would (probably) get over her fear of them if she had him contantly cuddling her

Saera: Syrax -- a spoiled dragon for a girl who always desired attention

Viserra: Sunfyre -- the most beautiful of Alysanne's daughters must have the most beautiful dragon in the known world

Aemma Arryn: Tessarion -- the Blue Queen would match with Meleys the Red Queen, whose rider Rhaenys is Aemma's cousin

Viserys II: Rhaegal -- I feel like between Drogon and Viserion, sometimes Rhaegal is forgotten, which is also something I feel happens with Viserys, particularly in the midst of the tragedy of the Dance

Aegon IV: Syrax -- both very fertile and pampered

Naerys: Dreamfyre -- both of Dreamfyre's previous riders, Rhaena and Helaena, had twins, so I wanted to have that connection to Naerys

Daeron I: Meraxes -- the obvious Dorne connection and both Queen Rhaenys and Daeron have Velaryon mothers

Daena: Caraxes -- the Blood Wyrm being ridden by Daemon's wild granddaughter OR Meleys

Elaena: Arrax -- his coloring perfectly matches her hair OR Moondancer -- she "stole" her aunt Baela's husband and also her dragon

Daeron II: Silverwing -- only appropriate that Good Queen Alysanne's dragon is ridden by King Daeron the Good

Daemon Blackfyre: Balerion -- the Black Dread for the Black Dragon

Aegor Rivers: Vermithor -- the Bronze Fury for a perpetually angry man

Brynden Rivers: the Cannibal -- known for eating other dragons and Brynden is a supposed kinslayer OR Caraxes -- the Blood Wyrm for Bloodraven, both lean and formidable

Shiera Seastar: Seasmoke or Silverwing -- a silver dragon that matches her aesthetic

Baelor: Sunfyre -- golden like the sun of Dorne and his name "sun" like the Martell sigil, in honor of his mother Myriah Martell, and "fire" connects to the Targaryen words

Maekar: Vhagar -- a war dragon

Aemon: Viserion -- Daenerys' sweet boy for the man who so desperately wanted to protect her

Aerion: the Cannibal -- the dragon's menacing green eyes are the color of wildfire

Rhaegar: Grey Ghost -- a wild dragon, known for his elusiveness, is mysterious and avoidant of people, and would be a good companion to Rhaegar and the way no one really knew him

Rhaenys: Balerion -- she named her kitten after the Black Dread, so it is only fair that she gets to ride him

Please let me know what you think!

Do you think there is another dragon/rider combination or is there someone here you would assign another dragon?

[tamayakii]

The Devil watches.

Warnings: Not connected to any episodes of HOTD, but is set after Daemon & Laena marry after Rhaenrya & Laenor do. My timing may be off by a tad, Pairings: No Pairings, it's pretty much Darling on her own. notes: I chose the flowers with purpose, anyone who can guess will get a cookie. Also thank you to my friends for being my beta-readers. Also part two IS in the works!

The Belladonna swayed in the wind, dancing with the butterfly weeds. They were a beautiful sight. A change from the rainy scenery on Dragonstone, it rained like hell on the island. The colder season was here. Your family wrapped themselves in furs and thick leather. 

The Velaryons and Targaryens frequently met on Dragonstone because of the marriages between Rhaenrya and Laenor, as well as Daemon and Laena, with Dragonstone and Driftmark being sister islands. 

At a slow pace, you traversed the halls of the stone castle, the one that had held many of Targaryen's heirs and ancestors. Since your entrance into the royal family, you dug yourself into research- you wanted them to know you truly did not look down at this chance of a better life. 

You learned the history of Old Valyria with your father, Viserys. He believed himself a dreamer, you found, like Daenys the Dreamer- perhaps the reason the Targaryens survived the destruction of Valyria. 

With Aemma, you learned of Rhaena Targaryen, Queen of the East and West. Daughter of Alyssa Velaryon and sister to Queen Alysanne, sister-wife to the King Jaehaerys the First. Aemma wanted you to know about her mother, Daella Targaryen.

And you knew, you discovered her meek nature, her fear of gardens, bees, and cats. You acquired all knowledge that could be learned, all knowledge that the Maesters wrote. Even once at a dinner, you asked Ser Corlys what he thought of Daella, who was 3 and 10 at the time of their meeting.  

They quickly escorted you to your chambers, with Rhaenrya following closely behind you. It seemed you had upset Aemma and changed the mood of the dinner. Queen Aemma miscarried that night, something that you would place blame on yourself. 

Outside, the wind blew through the paneless windows of the halls. The salty taste of the sea sat upon your lips. The thoughts of your late-queen mother made your eyes water, the pain of her death still ever present in your soul. Your veil billowed behind you as the wind blew harder, pulling your fur robes tighter as you descended the staircase. These were the nights when you felt the need to be under the shrouded night, humming the Mother's Hymn, as the darkness seemed endless and the stars never shined. The castle was as silent as ever. Besides nature's song, everyone tucked into their warm beds. Protected by the guards that you’ve come to know as background ambience. 

“Gentle mother..” You sang under your breath, letting your fingers feel every grout of the walls that followed the staircase, “font of mercy…” you dragged your voice out as you reached the bottom of the tower, pushing the thick oak doors open. 

“Save our sons..” Closing your eyes as you felt the wind caress your face like Mother herself as you sang her hymn, “from war…” stepping into the courtyard, you looked up at the looming castle of Dragonmont. 

“We pray.” Your feet step slowly across the gravel, mimicking a dance you once saw. Slowly, you step from the left before taking a long graceful one to the right. “Stay the swords,” you dance yourself through the protective gates of Dragonstone, skipping from one step to the next. 

“And stay the arrows.” Your voice trails off as you walk onto the shore, the waves lapping at the sand. You stopped to admire the dark sea, your veil waving in its wind with force. It was as if the sea’s wind washed away your sins. 

“Let them know a be-” A large gust of air comes from above, nearly knocking you on your arse. It punches the air out of your lungs. Gasping for air as you looked to the heavens above, but nothing was there except the night sky. 

“Better day..” whispering, eyes wide as you stare into the abyss night. You rack your brain for answers. Perhaps it was Ceraxes. If left alone for too long, the blood wyrm was known for its lonely flights. The thought comforted you. 

Looking down the long rocky beach, you begin your trek again with caution. You listen to any sound in the night but all there is howling of the wind, trying to comfort yourself with a sigh; you sing once more,

“Gentle mother..” you pause, waiting for an interruption that never comes. “Strength of women,” pulling your robe against you tighter as you round a tight bend in the beach, skipping over rocks to dodge the waves licking your feet. 

The sound of rocks tumbling catches your attention, watching as small rocks fall down the cliff side. Looking up to find that the rocks seemed moved on their own, not a lively shape to be seen up top. 

‘The wind, perhaps.’ you think to yourself before moving onward.

“Help our daughters through this fray.” You lost yourself in thought as you walked. The Mothers Hymn was of comfort to you. Aemma sang it every time she tucked you in, unable to ignore your pleas to sing it just once more. 

The first night you sang the Mother's Hymn without Aemma was after her funeral, Rhaenrya would not sleep, her grief too much for her to bear on her own. You hummed as you brushed the girl's hair with your fingers, whispering the lyrics.

It took an hour until she fell asleep- your voice raw from repeating the Hymn with no breaks. 

A cove sat in your path, the sandy path too thin for you to walk, the water becoming more shallow as it flowed into a cave. Finding yourself upon a high rock, enjoying the sea breeze, you were ignorant to the eyes that stared from the cavern. 

“Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,” You wondered about Laena’s adventure to Vhagar, the woman had her eyes set upon the dragon since she learned of its history and location. Vhagar, the last of the conquerors' dragons, was a mighty green beast, but her song was as beautiful as a gentle maiden. 

“Teach us all a kinder way.” 

The air gets warmer, almost too warm. You start to wonder as you pant about the change of weather. Turning around and looking into the cavern's mouth; you realize why.

A dragon, as dark as the night and as sharp as a blade. Its horns curled around its face, green eyes glowing in the dark. It begins to climb out of the cave, its body seeming never ending. It  towers over you with his horrifying size. 

Fear gripped your frail heart. You were going to die. 

Smoke billows out of the beast's nostrils. Its chest glows with the heat of a thousand fires. Flames tickle your legs as you throw yourself off the rock, gasping as the freezing water below you flee for your life, forgetting the sharp rocks and barnacles tearing at your hands.

Thunderous booms follow you, a song that told you your fate, but the song was not comforting. It was dreadful. It screeched and wavered unceremoniously, and that was the song you would die to.

There was no escape. The breath of the fearsome dragon was hot on your back. Did the beast enjoy this? It could end this chase with one snap of its giant teeth, but it did not. 

A light at the end of the tunnel appeared.

A crack within the cliff side, just big enough to hold you. 

Tripping over your feet as you dash for it, shoving your body between the jagged stones, it hurts. The sharp edges tore at the front and back of your dress, crying as it dug into your skin. What were you to do? 

The dragon paces back and forth, a cry that sounds too much like a chortle leaves its throat. It was laughing.. It was laughing at you.

“Gentle Mother” You sang with fear, trying to comfort yourself, a bit of solace as you sat at death's door. “Font of mercy” voice wavering as you sobbed, you wanted your mother. You wanted Aemma. 

“Save our sons from war, we pray- oh gods!!” you sobbed against the stone, begging the gods- all of them, the old and new, for Mercy,. 

The dragon had stopped, listening to your voice. 

“Stay the swords and stay the arrows-” you realize the dragon has stopped. You look at the opening and see its green eyes watching you as it slowly lays its large body against the sand. Its lips curled once you stopped singing, 

“Let them know a better day..” 

It snorted, laying its head down. Perhaps it once heard the Mothers Hymn, or maybe it was the own Mother's hand coming down to save you. 

“Gentle Mother, strength of women..” Slowly, you begin to sidestep out of the crack. “Help our daughters through this fray.” you can feel its hot breath once more. Fear makes you stop, but memory reminds you of your family.

“Will I have a dragon, Papa?” Viserys held you tight on his lap, the book open wide on your thighs. The man hums with thought before he smiles, kissing your temple. 

“A girl as brave as you? Of course you shall have a dragon., I will make sure of it if I must.” His hands rub your sides with love. The thought of him forcing the gods to give you a dragon made you more happy. 

Looking up at him with a toothy grin, “Thank you, Papa!!” The rest of the night you discussed dragons. Viserys suggested that once Dreamfyre laid a new hatch, he would give you a dragon egg, but each egg he gave you failed to hatch.

“Soothe the wrath and tame the fury,” 

The dragon chirps softly, a weird noise coming from such a devilish beast. 

“Teach us all a kinder way…” The Hymn ends and soothes the dragon., "Do you like that? It's my favorite... is it yours too?" with cautious steps, you finally emerge out of the rocks. The dragon huffs, and the clouds split and the moon shines upon you two. 

If you tamed this dragon… perhaps you would feel more Targaryen, maybe you could fly in the skies with Rhaenrya and Daemon. 

The dragon sniffs you as you step closer. Your hands touch the scales of its snout and it rips its head back with a grunt. It was still a wild dragon. You almost laughed at yourself. It had tricked you. You were no Targaryen, and it would kill you.

Awaiting the flames hotter than the hells to blanket your body, you waited for the never ending pain with your eyes closed, but it never came. When the wind picked up again, you found yourself opening your eyes once more.

There it was, spreading its wings and taking off with a mighty roar. You watched as the dragon flew further into the mountains, 

You had walked along the devil's hand and came unscathed. 

With the speed of a hare, you picked your soaked and ripped dress up and ran. Feet ripping up the sand, leaving spits of rocks behind you. Desperate to reach the safety of your chambers within the safety of the castle.

You reached the castle gates, heaving for air, but it did not stop you. Brushing past the confused guards as you blazingly push the doors open to the side tower and running up the stairs, 

Your mind came back to the wild dragon, the way it had multiple sets of horns, but its biggest curled in towards his face like a ram. Its eyes were more green than the richest jade, scales so deep black that it could rival Balerion’s skull that resides under the Red Keep. 

Shoving your body against your chamber doors, they slam shut. You wheeze for air, the pain pinching your throat as you try to breathe normally. You should’ve been dead ten times over. Slowly, you walk to your bed, shaking as you collapse. 

The silk sheets are warm against your slick skin, fingers stretching as they tremble from the cold. Your eyes fall heavy, the distant roar of a dragon seems ever faint as you slip into a deep slumber.

That night, you dream of dragons. It is you who is the dragon. You see flashes of broken eggs and the bodies of baby dragons ripped apart, oddly; you feel no remorse for the creatures but only satiated hunger. 

You see the rough choppy waters of the Narrow Sea below as you fly through the dark nights, ships cross in many numbers- You destroy them, roaring with a laugh but you hunger for your own brethren, for the taste and feel of fire and talons.

No longer a dragon, you’re a human once more. A baby within a cradle, your mother Aemma above you, or was she Aemma? Her long white hair and purple eyes entranced you, but as you studied her further; It was not Aemma, but another woman.

Her eyelids were gently dusted with a purple hue, and her lips were glossed to match the same shade of purple. She seemed tired, but she still smiled. Above her was a painted tapestry of dragons, but among the many, only one caught your attention. There it was. The beast swirled and its jaws were wide open with a flurry of green fire escaping its mouth. 

The eyes seem so alive and penetrating, as if they're boring into your very being. The green-eyed devil had been watching you for a long time. 

Your dreams end before you can look at the woman once more, but you hear her voice, 

“Gentle Mother, font of mercy…”

Let me know what you guys think!! Reblogs over likes!!!

[aviawrites]

a winters dragon: burning

!s: aemond targ x northern!reader, jacaerys velaryon x reader

summary: After escaping a life of sorrow in King’s Landing, Auriela is settled with the task of finding her place on Dragonstone in the midst of the Dance of Dragons. From unhappy nobles to loss of friends to rocky relationships, she begins to wonder if she has a place in this world at all. [8k]

a/n: no way i actually posted a pt. 2 everybody clap! i definitely strayed from the show plot b/c that’s not my style anyway, but some things i decided to keep. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, death, violence, mentions of torture, nothing you haven’t watched in the show

in this story, yn is: Auriela Dustin

hey! read part 1 -> a winter's dragon: flying

‘I write to you with a hardened heart, wife. You’ve betrayed not only the trust of my good family but mine own. It is my fault that you’ve forgotten to fear me, it shall be your undoing. You’re commanded by my brother the King to return yourself and my child to your rightful place here in King’s Landing at once. Once you’ve proven becoming of these terms, your horrendous and treasonous crimes shall be pardoned. The realm is watching.  Aemond.’

“Write back,” Vialy says, sitting on the other side of the desk. “Tell him you’ll return.”

You shake your head. “I would never return.”

“We know that but he does not,” she continues. “It would give the Queen time to plot.”

“Or it would give him time to get on his dragon and seize both me and Dragonstone.”

“Alicent would never let him leave with Vhagar, Princess. Your husband has love for you, he’ll want to believe you. The small connection the two of you built will warrant his waiting. As he awaits you in his castle, Rhaenyra is free of the threat. She’ll be able to strike.”

You hide the small smirk growing on your lips, never taking Vialy for much of a warhead. You look to Rhaena, her fingers interlinked with Vialy’s.

“…Any distraction is a good distraction, I think,” she shrugs. “The Queen surely won’t be the poorer for it.”

And so it is settled. Though, you cannot expect your response to be dispatched without the leave of the Queen herself.

…

“Come,” you hear her call.

Rhaenyra stands as you enter her chambers. You stop a few feet away, bowing your head.

“Your Grace.”

“Auriela,” she smiles. “You requested a word with me?”

“Yes, um,” you take a deep breath, Aegon and Aemond not having half of the Targaryen presence that their sister possesses. “This morning I received a letter from my husband in King’s Landing. He demands that I return to my seat and my crimes will be pardoned,” you stare at the floor. “We- or- Ithought that I might write back, if it please you. I’d apprise him of my return, I believe he’d take it as the truth and wait for my arrival. In that period, I thought it may be a wise time for us- or you rather- For you and your King to plot and execute your next move, should you see it wise.”

A pit forms in your stomach when Rhaenyra stays silent, looking from you to the scroll in your hands. She holds hers out and you place the letter in her palm. She quickly scans it before returning her gaze to you.

“I think it is an excellent plan,” she says.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “You do?”

A small chuckle escapes her lips as she nears you.

“Auriela, you needn’t be so frightened. You are safe here.”

“No, I,” you scoff, “I know I am, my Queen…But I am not so arrogant to assume you’ve forgotten my former place in King’s Landing.”

“I have not,” she shakes her head. “But I do not fault you for your past, nor do I mistrust you for it. You returned to what you believe is right. That is honorable, Princess.”

You hide a smile, bowing your head once again. “Thank you, my Queen.”

She places a hand on your arm. “You know, we may have more in common than we see.”

“Do we?”

“I too carried my first child in the Keep,” she says.

Your shield falters as you remove your hand from your stomach and bring it to your side. She only gives you a reassuring smile. 

You never told Rhaenyra of your babe. All you’ve thought about since you arrived is how much stress your presence could bring upon her, so you never found the right time. But she knows, you think to yourself. 

——

1 Moon Later

You try your hardest to regulate your breathing, your hand hovering over your growing belly as the council speaks of the unspeakable. The green Queen’s son has been struck down, his head somewhere in a sack in King’s Landing. You didn’t believe it when the message was brought, never having imagined anyone could hate Helaena as much as they hated her husband. It is only now in this moment of sorrow that you wish you could be at the Red Keep for just five more minutes, just to give Helaena the embrace that she’s deserved all her life.

“This will only enrage them. Give them a reason to strike hard and fast. Completely reducing the time that we’ve bought for ourselves,” Rhaenyra rages at the head of the table. “They will not leave this unanswered.” 

“There has been no word from King’s Landing, Your Grace. Neither from the Prince nor the usurper himself,” Maester Gerardys tells.

“I am not surprised,” Rhaenyra sighs. “I have no doubt that Aemond has convinced his brother to send a host here as we speak. Maybe even with Vhagar herself.”

Daemon speaks up. “Which would not be so, had we not welcomed a traitor to the crown into our quarters.”

You slightly roll your eyes. Daemon has been cold and distant to you since the day you stepped foot on his lands. He’s not short of reasons to dislike you, though you regret being so conceited as to believe he’d be as forgiving as his wife. 

“By that same way of thinking, we are all traitors to the crown, Daemon,” Rhaenyra snaps back at him. “What was I meant to do? Turn the girl away whilst she bears a child?”

"That of the very man who killed Luke? Yes, turn her away! That's exactly what you do, Rhaenyra!” he raises his voice, your face growing hot with embarrassment as you feel all eyes on you. “Look at her now, she sympathizes with the usurpers-"

Rhaenyra stands, banging the table as she leans toward him. "Sympathy for the cold murder of a child is not a weakness.”

The room stays quiet, Daemon reluctantly backing down before Rhaenyra returns to her seat. Although you’d rather melt into yours at the moment, you decide to break the thick tension.

“My cousin…Cregan Stark,” you begin, your voice no higher than a whisper, “he sent a raven, Your Grace. He promises a thousand men to decend upon the Red Keep, should the greens send their army here.”

Rhaenyra has no chance to answer before Daemon scoffs.

 "A thousand untrained Northerners would march for King's Landing for a battle being fought here, how perfect,” he jests.

Rhaenyra ignores him. "That is a most generous gesture of Lord Stark, Auriela.” You cannot tell if she means her words or if she only says them to spite her husband. “Thank him for me."

Daemon frustratingly grunts. "We need to send dragons."

"And which dragons would that be?"

"Caraxes, Meleys, anything other than sitting on our arses whilst they slay our people and send their traitors! War is here!-"

“I think you’ve forgotten yourself, cousin…” Princess Rhaenys sneers, her gaze shooting daggers through Daemon’s skull. “Rhaenyra keeps war at bay as every man at this table seems to hunger for it. Speak to your queen accordingly."

Daemon only rolls his eyes, a snide remark on the tip of his tongue. Nevertheless, he spares Rhaenys, shooting a death glare at you. 

“…We must proceed under the assumption that Aegon’s army is coming,” Rhaenyra moves on. “Whether it be for his goodsister or for the unlawful killing of his son. Rather than this ceaseless bickering, let us retreat to the ways of the dragon."

“Fire and blood,” Daemon mumbles.

“Patience and wit,” she corrects him.

…

You feel the heat of the dragon’s fire long before you’re near it, the dark caves doing well in retaining their warmth. 

“Daemon is…vexed, more often than not. Don’t let his words get to you,” Jacaerys assures you, leading you to his own dragon. “I knew Helaena for a short time, her children for even shorter. But I do know that Jaehaerys’ loss was a grave one. Daemon shouldn’t have made you out as craven for feeling so.”

“Maybe not craven, but I am at fault,” you admit. “Had I not left and made them seem vulnerable, maybe the devil wouldn’t have thought to strike that night.”

Jace looks to you as you walk out onto the rocky platform. “That’s not true.”

“We’re alone, you mustn’t hold formalities. It is my fault.”

“It’s not,” he corrects you, firmer this time. “Nothing we do can prevent the minds of the evil and tormented. We leave that to the Gods.” 

Your eyes meet his. You’re prepared to get lost in them, though, they greatly remind you of Lucan’s. But before you can allow your mind to wonder, a loud grumble shakes the ground. Fear grows in your eyes as excitement grows in Jace’s. He grabs your hand, pulling you to the edge.

You hold onto his arm, terrified of falling into the dragon infested pit as a green mass rises. Suddenly, taller than a hundred men, an olive dragon towers over you, a tangy smell emitting from him. You try to step back but Jace holds you steady.

“lykirī,” he holds his hand out, the stirring dragon bowing to him. “lykirī.”

Your breath almost leaves you. You’ve ridden a dragon before, joining Aemond on Vhagar only once. But never were you face to face with her, nowhere near. Vhagar was much bigger, her head seeming leagues away from her back. But now, in front of you, the eyes of a dragon were treading on yours.

“Jace…” your voice shakes.

“Feel,” he holds your hand in his, pressing your palm to the dragon’s snout. 

“…What’s his name?” 

“Vermax,” Jace smiles proudly. “We grew together.”

“Gods be good…” you smile as well, almost talking to yourself rather than him. “What a great power they are.”

“Indeed.”

——

Three dragon eggs steam in their chamber as a servant walks them down to the ship. You hold Vialy’s hands tightly, no longer trying to hide your sobs.  

“Maybe you’ll be able to visit me,” you say. “Or write me letters of what you see in Pentos.”

“Of course I’ll write to you, Princess,” she wipes your tears, smiling. “You needn’t cry.”

“You’re the closest thing to family I’ve ever had,” you cry harder. “I don’t know what I’m meant to do without you, sister.”

“You shall thrive, as you always do. Being in your service has given me more than a lifetimes worth of satisfaction, Princess. I can only thank the Gods that they continue to lead me down a path of joy with the girl I care for.”

“I shall curse the Gods nightly for taking you away from me,” you pout. “We planned our whole future together.”

“Can’t you see? We are the future, Ella. The children and their dragons shall grow with us in the East, the boy will grow a Northern heart in Winterfell, and you and Lucan will put our Queen on the throne here. All corners of the world will have your love.”

You plaster on a saddened smile, pulling Vialy into a tight and lingering hug. Behind her, Rhaena and the children head toward the ship. 

“I love you, Vialy,” you whisper.

“I love you, Auriela.”

You let her go, not before seeing water line her eyes as well. Allowing Lucan to say his goodbyes, you take your spot beside Baela to watch them depart.

“I am no stranger to losing parts of myself,” you tell her, “I only wish that it was not this part.”

“But the Gods are merciful,” she looks toward the sea. “Their love shall live in our hearts. And for some, through what we've made." 

Baela looks toward your stomach, a small bump in your dress. It is only now, as Lucan returns to your side and grabs your hand, that you understand their words. You entertain the idea that the lives of the ones you love are reflected in all that you do; and in time, in all that you birth.

…

As the sun goes down, so does most of the castle. But you can’t seem to find sleep, thoughts of Vialy across the Narrow Sea haunting you. You roam the castle, landing in the Chamber of the Painted Table. With each echo of your step, you fall deeper into your doubt; whether that be about your place in the world or your next steps moving forward.

“They’ve sent Rhaena away.”

You jump, turning on your heels toward the painted table. On the other side of it, the moon barely lights the silhouette of a man; his frame tall and leaning back in his chair.

Daemon’s voice is unmistakable. 

“To the same place her mother died.”

You stumble for the right thing to say, startled. “I regret that her father was not there to see her off.” You walk toward him, standing at the head of the table.

“Do you think less of me for it?”

“…It matters little what I think,” you say, wary.

“It’s good that you know as much,” he stands to face you, “but that’s not what I asked.”

“I’m…I’m sure the King had other matters demanding his attention.”

“Hm,” he examines you in the light. The longer he looks, the closer he shifts to you, taking a deep breath in. “Have you been on a dragon?”

Your breath shakes. “Vermax, my King.”

“And why is that?”

“The Prince Jacaerys says it’ll do me good…”

Daemon huffs, settling into his spot. “What is your true business here, Auriela?”

“I only seek to appease my Queen-“

He cuts your words off with a loud and reverberating laugh. “You always know the right thing to say, hm? The usurpers have trained you well…”

You stay quiet, his looming presence and jabbing words leaving you at a loss.

He continues. “Had it not been for that babe in you, which is to be born a betrayer, I’d burn you with my own dragon.”

Your brows thread together. “May I ask what I’ve done so wrong, Your Grace? What but what was expected of me-“

Daemon grabs your wrist, pulling you to him. “May I ask who the fuck taught you to question your King?” he spits. “I will not allow you to do what you attempt. To estrange me from my family, to ally with the children, to make me a bad guy. You will fail.”

Eyes wide, you shake your head. Though, as his words stir, his shield lowers for a moment; his fragile and paranoid state apparent. “…It seems you’ve risen to such accusations very well on your own…my King.”

You swear the eyes of the dragon itself stare back at you as he sneers. But he quickly regains his composure, releasing his grip and resting his hand on his sword.

“Tread carefully…Traitor of House Dustin.”

He walks away, a click ringing out with each step. You’re left speechless, not being able to make out what just happened in the slightest. 

The King has threatened you…accused you. And you accused him back. 

Perhaps you were right, perhaps Dragonstone truly isn’t the seat meant for you. If it is, the Gods have a strange way of showing it. They send Aegon’s army, they take Vialy away, and now they turn the King against you…The only resolution is for you to remove yourself. For even if the King resents you, you’d be a sinner to stand in the Queen’s way as she battles for the throne.

——

“Why shouldn’t I!?” Lucan raises his voice, his face gone red.

“It would do no good, Lucan.”

“She needs to know, Princess. You’re a noble, you are royalty, how dare he speak to you that way.”

“It was only words.”

“It was not only words, he laid his hands on you!” his voice breaks. “She needs to know.”

“I’m sure she already knows who she married,” you argue. “Rhaenyra has problems enough.”

Lucan paces your chamber, running his hands through his dark hair. You nervously fiddle with your rings, having an idea of how he’ll take your next words.

“…If we were to leave Dragonstone…where do you suppose we’d go?” you ask timidly.

Lucan stops, staring at you. His head shakes as he walks nearer, his voice low and steady.

“You don’t mean to let that spineless King run you away from your seat…” 

You shrug. "This is the seat of fire and blood, my love. We are of other lineage."

“We fought to get here, Princess. I’ve given up all I had. You and your child are all I’ve got to my name…Should you command us to leave, I will go. But I ask you, as your servant, to not let malignancy win. You deserve to be here just as much as her half blooded sons.”

“Listen to my words,” you grab his hands, “Vialy and Rhaena were successful in their leave. They are safe now. We could be safe, Lucan. We could get properly married and raise children; maybe even Maeserys.”

He thinks, taking deep breaths as his hands tremble. You place a knuckle on his chin, lifting his teary eyes to meet yours.

“…Dorne would allow it,” he admits, barely audible. 

“Yes, Dorne,” you smile widely.

“The children would have to be a mystery. Their hair dyed and names changed.”

“All achievable,” you reason. Though, it’s obvious how against leaving he is. “My love, we could flee to Dorne.”

“I wish not to flee, Princess…”

You tilt your head, empathetic of his view. A kiss placed on his forehead, you make up your mind. He will forgive you once you leave; once you’re on a Dornish beach with your family, away from the hassles and battles of the Crownlands. 

You do not mean to let Daemon run you away, as he said. It’s much less Daemon forcing you to flee as opposed to sacrificing your spot for the better of the realm. The less problems your true Queen must deal with, the more focus she can put into her war. It’s a good thing you plan to do.

——

He’s left. Fled before you were able to. To Harrenhal Daemon is said to have gone, leaving this table of nobles looking to you for information on the recent movings of the Red Keep. 

“The people are starving…” you reveal. “But their fleet is strong.”

“So is ours,” Corlys speaks up.

“My husband spoke to me little of battle, but I estimate they can call no short of three thousand men within a fortnight.”

Rhaenyra stares intently at you. “And what of their dragons?”

“The same as you left them, all strong and growing, Your Grace. Though, the Princess Helaena still has yet to ride Dreamfyre in many moons.”

“So that’s two dragons against our four.”

“Unwilling does not mean unable, Lord Broome,” Rhaenyra reminds him. “Alas, Vhagar is larger than half of our dragons combined and I do not mean to send my son to fight against such forces.”

“Mother, I can-“

“You cannot,” she insists.

You feel a comforting hand on your shoulder, Lucan’s thumb rubbing lightly against you as he fills your cup. You smile, finally not feeling alone in court any longer.

“If I may remind you, my Queen, with the promise of men in the North, a siege of the Red Keep is not impossible. Certainly not if the King Consort returns with an army of his own.”

She bites her thumb, her eyes searching the table as she thinks. You wonder if you’ve said something wrong before she dismisses her council, thanking you for your words. The men look at her like a sheep with the skin of a wolf, doubt and dismissal lensing their gazes. They think her weak, dumb witted just because she decides to make tactical moves. You regret that a tiny sense of doubt rises in yourself, knowing how urgent the matters of war are.

Lucan nods at you, staying back and holding your hand. Nerves tingling in your fingers, you pull away, standing and walking toward a pacing Rhaenyra.

“May I have a quick word, my Queen?” you ask, your voice low with Lucan by your side.

“Go on,” she plasters on an unconvincing smile.

“I wish to ask for leave.”

“Leave?” she confirms. “Where for?”

“Starfall, Your Grace,” Lucan speaks directly to Rhaenyra for the first time. “My home seat.”

“Dorne? Why would I send you to Dorne?”

“…I find myself being of little use yet great concern these days,” you admit. “I only wish to free you of the burden. We ask to continue our lives in Starfall and leave you to it for the betterment of the realm.”

Rhaenyra tilts her head, your view being new news to her. “Princess, you’re nearly bursting at the belly and a journey to Dorne is hard and long.”

“I shall endure it if it means to not disrupt the happenings on Dragonstone. As I see it, it would be an act for your ascension.”

“An act from the threat of others…” Lucan mumbles.

Rhaenyra’s head snaps to him, then back at you. Your lips press together as you curse Lucan in your head.

“Threat?” she asks. “Who’s threatened you?”

“No one, Your Grace. This is of my own accord-“

“It is treasonous to tell anything but the truth to me, Auriela.”

You sigh, your face dropping as you give up your act.

“The King helped me see that it would be a wise choice for me to leave you and your family as you are.”

Her eyes soften, chewing in her bottom lip as she looks away from you. If only she knew this is exactly what you meant to avoid, more stress is the last thing you want for Rhaenyra.

“Daemon is no longer here,” she shrugs.

“My Queen-“

“It would not benefit me to grant you leave, Princess. You are needed and wanted here.”

You quietly huff, bowing your head. “Your Grace.”

Walking away, you shove Lucan as he follows you toward the door. “Was your comment truly necessary?”

“I only meant to tell the Queen the truth. I am not a traitor.”

“You solve nothing!” you whisper shout, opening the grand doors. “We’re now stuck in the crossfire of a doomed battle of which we have no significance.”

The bickering ceases as Jace turns the corner, walking opposite of you and Lucan. The two of you bow. “My Prince,” you say in unison. He enters the same room you’ve just left.

Lucan scrunches up his nose. 

“Dragon,” you tell him.

“Hm,” he nods. “Smells similar to Vhagar, I presume.”

“Sort of,” you shrug, entering your bed chamber. “Vhagar has a more earthy smell. Vermax is younger, almost a fruity stench comes from him.”

He laughs. “Did you read up on that?”

“I smelt it myself, thank you,” you jest.

Lucan’s smile slightly drops as you throw yourself onto the bed, sprawled into a star.

“Did you really?” he asks from across the room.

“Jace showed me,” you stare at the ceiling. “Vermax was so close I could smell his breath.”

“Jace…You’re good friends with him then?”

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t say good friends.”

“Yet you call him by a short name.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, Lucan’s face now stone cold. 

“Luke, everyone calls him Jace.”

“His mother and his betrothed do, of which you are neither.”

“Speak plainly then,” you challenge, standing up. “What are you saying?”

He sighs. “I’m just noticing, is all. You’ve gotten rather close to him…”

“I only seek to feel at home.”

“And how I feel? Have you thought about that?”

“Wh- Lucan, what is this about?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Princess, you’ve been everywhere but by my side since the moment we arrived.”

“I made you cupbearer,” you remind him.

“The Queen made me cupbearer. Not at your request, might I add.”

“So you’re angry because my attention is split?”

“I’m discontented because you’ve taken more of a liking to a Targaryen bastard than you have to me. I wish not to be a beggar but I feel it’s the least I deserve for my troubles.”

“Your troubles?” you near him. “And what would those be?”

“I shan’t speak it-“

“Well you’ve already begun, so go on.”

He stares at you through his dark locks, cornered.

“…The troubles of abandoning the life I knew, Princess,” he admits under his breath. “To join you on your travels.”

Your eyes are fixed on his, spite in your gaze.

“You did not have to come with me, Lucan.”

“You’re my superior-“

“I was nothing to you!” you spit, not believing he’d blame his regrets on you. “I was a girl in a brothel. You chose to care for me!” 

“If only love was a choice, my girl. I would follow you anywhere, as death follows life. But as I stand, I feel I’ve been bested. I feel that you don’t…” he trails off.

You tilt your head. “…Have I ever commanded you, Lucan? Ever?”

“You have not.”

“Have I ever sworn myself to you?”

He shakes his head.

“And we are yet to be married, yes?”

“Princess, you bedded me-“

“And I am the poorer for it. Evidently, I’ve made a mistake. I thought you to be loyal. I thought you to be on my side by choice. But you see our journeys as…What?…A duty?”

“I- My love, you made the choice to stay with me for those three days. You made the choice to fuck me after your King forbade you from seeing me again. You came to me with the news of your child, you mourned over our Alice beside me…Was I mistaken to think it only right to commit treason with you as well?”

Treason, he calls it. Before now, he’d refuse to even call it wrong. You could’ve sworn that it was his idea that brought you to Dragonstone to begin with. So for him to blame it on you…

“How dare you?” you stare at your palms as they grow sweatier. “We were meant to be one.”

“And we can remain one,” he insists. “But in the fleeting moments of our passing one another, you stand beside Jacaerys. Or you speak to Baela. I feel wronged-

“You see me a traitor…”

“No,” he grabs your hands, forcing you to look at him. “I see you as so beyond myself, my girl. But with one tongue you claim to be my equal and with the other you leave my debt unpaid.”

Debt. Fleeing the home that was one day away from tipping over and burning you alive is a debt. Just another order that he felt he had to see through. You feel like you don’t know him at all; like his tongue is being controlled by something from the hells rather than his own heart.

You snatch your hands away, backing yourself from him.

“No, Auriela,” he walks toward you. “We must talk-“

“I have nothing more to say to you,” you snap, exiting the chamber.

You slam the door shut, leaning against it as you lay your hands over your chest. Though, they quickly cover your mouth as you fight the weeps from escaping. In the span of a few short days your whole world has been flipped. The King wished you gone, then he fled; the Prince has taken an interest in you, the Queen denied your leave, and now…the boy you love seems to see you as more of a highborn superior than his own. 

You never should’ve come. Were it inevitable, you should’ve taken the ship with Vialy to finally be free of the burdens of royalty. But as you cry, your chest burning with sorrow, there’s only one person whose arms you’d rather be in.

Though not only is he across the bay, but his brother’s army may be on their way to hunt you down presently.

——

1 Moon Later

“The maesters say the babe is healthy,” you tell Lucan, his hand stroking your stomach. 

“I am glad to hear it.”

You’re still short with each other, only having real conversations when it regards your child. He’s busied himself with the servants and smallfolk of the island, putting his head down when you pass. Although you cannot say he is only to blame, as you give him the same treatment, busying yourself with the higher born.

He puts his hands down, looking at you. “Has the Prince said anything of importance as of late?”

“Nothing that we don’t already know,” you huff. “That war is upon us.”

“Clever man, he is.”

You roll your eyes. “At the least, he can see that we have greater troubles on the horizon. Much bigger than small disagreements such as our own.”

“That may be so. But I have always considered your feelings and the state of the realm of equal merit.”

Your shoulders drop as he finds yet another way to make you out as a villain. You simply smile, pressing a cold kiss onto his cheek before leaving his, now separate, bedchamber.

…

“Princess,” you bow as Rhaenys dismounts her dragon, Baela dismounting Moondancer behind her. 

“Nothing, again,” Baela walks up to you. “There’s never anything.”

“Be glad that the Gods still favor us.”

“If I’m to be a patroller, I wish to have something to patrol. At least a small ship to detour, even Moondancer is restless,” she sighs, looking to your stomach. “Has he felt any kicking?”

“He barely cares to touch my stomach,” you scoff. “He seems to grow angrier with me daily for the simple fact that I’ve adjusted to Dragonstone; even though that’s all he pushed me to do upon our arrival.”

“Hypocrisy is a part of being human, I suppose. Many throughout the realm will raise the Queen’s banner, yet leave her to fight alone when the time comes. Men often shrivel in the shadow of a power that they engendered.”

“Perhaps I was foolish to believe he wasn’t like other men,” you laugh at yourself. “I never thought him to be so spiteful. Certainly not of my friendships with other men. Gods, I was married when we first lay together. But now he has a problem; with Jace of all people.”

She grabs both of your hands, Moondancer’s low rumble being felt from beneath the stony platform. “You know, when my mother died, I was not even three and ten. Neither was Jace. We had not known each other for the better part of two days when he began to stand by my side. Him and Luke were there for us like no one else was, not even our father. Sure, it may have been under the order of their mother, but it matters not…What I mean to say is that there are good men in this world. Ones who are simply good because their hearts allow it, they were born so. So if the Gods do not intend this man for you, your true match is somewhere, and he will find you. The Gods do favor good women.”

You smile, staring at the ground. “I am not sure I’d consider myself a good woman.”

“Of course you are,” she makes you look at her. “I’m sure of it.”

“How can you know?” you ask, almost desperately. For the question has been weighing on you for the past fortnite.

“Auriela, you’re married to the Prince of Westeros. You were royalty, living a life that other girls dream of. And yet you turned it all away in the name of good and right. You remained steadfast in your verity even when it was life threatening.”

“…I suppose you are not wrong.”

She laughs. “Of course I am not wrong.”

Your conversation is cut short by the sound of footsteps nearing you, Jace emerging from the castle.

“Rhaenys said you’d be here,” he calls, a wide smile on his face.

He slides his arm around Baela’s waist, pressing a kiss onto her forehead.

“What are we on about?” he asks.

“Auriela was just telling me-“

The ringing of approaching bells interrupt Baela. Jace’s face lights up before he bolts for the doors. You and Baela follow him, finally catching up when you emerge from the front of the castle. Jace doesn’t stop, continuing to lead you down the path and toward the sea. There, a great ship prepares to anchor on the shore.

“I believe that is our livestock shipment,” Jace grins, eager to feed his dragon.

As the three of you walk closer and closer to the beach, you notice something familiar about the ship. The banners are Rhaenyra’s, black and red. But the sails have a slight plum tint to them. As you think back to where you could’ve seen them before, Lucan’s words ring out in your head.

“Well that one there is from Braavos. The plum tint of their sails is from the old practice of dying their stolen ships.” He said.

The dock. The one in King’s Landing. Your eyes go wide.

“That’s not livestock.”

“It is,” Jace assures you. “They come every week, mostly aurochs and ox from the Riverlands.”

“No, Jace,” you point. “That ship…I’ve seen it.”

He turns to look at you, Baela staring as well.

“…It’s from King’s Landing.”

Baela furrows her brows. “King’s Landing? Why would…” She looks over your head and toward the boat, her face dropping.

You and Jace follow her gaze. The ship is much closer now. And from the ramp, soldiers with gold cloaks trot through the sand, headed directly for you. 

“Go alert my mother…” Jace says lowly, unsheathing his sword as the men grow nearer.

Baela grabs his shoulder. “Jace, we can’t-“

“Mount Moondancer. Please do as I say, we have no choice.”

“Jace-“

“Go, go,” you push Baela toward the castle, running behind her.

You hear Jace exchange some shouts with the City Watch as you trail behind Baela, her riding shoes being much more fit for the sand than your heeled boots are. She turns a corner, disappearing behind the stone walls leading to the front doors. As you turn behind her, you feel a body wrap around yours.

A small squeal escapes you as you fight armored hands off of your body. It isn’t until you face the knight that you sigh a breath of relief.

“Ser Erryk!” you heave, his grip still tight around you. “The greens are here, they’re on our shore.”

He says nothing, only staring at you past his hefty helmet. Still in silence, he scoops you up, marching you back the way you came.

“No…Ser Erryk, listen to my words,” you beg him. “That ship is from King’s Landing, the usurpers sent for us. The City Watch, they’re-“

Erryk only quickens his pace as a league of gold cloaks pass you, headed for the castle. It’s not until one of them gives Ser Erryk a nod that you realize. Looking back up at the knight, your face drains of color.

“Arryk…” you mumble. 

“You’ve been called upon by his Grace, the King, and your Lord husband to return to your seat at once-“

You spit in his face, pushing and shoving to get away from him. 

“Jace!” you frantically shout as Arryk brings you closer and closer to the ship. 

As you reach the beach, you see why your calls have gone unanswered. Ser Arnol Roxton has Prince Jacaerys in his grasp, his forearm tightening around the boy’s neck.

“Jace!” you cry.

“I should strangle you for what your bitch mother did to Jaehaerys, boy.”

Jace thrashes, forcing the knight to turn every which way to keep ahold of him.

“Stick to your orders, Ser Arnol,” Arryk reminds him.

“When you run back home,” Arnol continues, “tell Rhaenyra that you only live by the mercy of the King, you hear?”

Arryk leaves them, forcefully dragging you to the ramp of the ship.

“No, no, no,” you beg. “Ser Arryk, please. I remain your Princess, you answer to me!”

“I only answer to my King.”

He places a hand over your mouth, your air being sucked away. Your fight becomes lighter and lighter as your brain continues to fog, your last sight being the hull of the vessel.

…

Criston Cole’s words flow from his tongue like shit from a raven. You’re sat in a creaky chair, your limbs bound. Ser Criston stands opposite you, continuing his ramblings as if anyone wishes to hear them.

“You know, you put me to shame when the Watch failed to find you on the Street of Silk,” he admits. “And again when you escaped King’s Landing with your whore.”

You keep your eyes down, trying your hardest to pry your wrists from the ropes.

“It’s a shame how like your cunt Queen you are. Just because you’re girls and you’re confused you think you can act however you wish; treat others however you wish.”

“Are you truly still hurt over that?” you scoff. “Is her rejection what fuels your mindless compliance to the usurpers?”

His jaw ticks. “Not hurt, Princess. But I will bring women like you to justice-“

You can’t help but laugh, knowing your tongue will be lost regardless of if you stay silent or bicker back.

“Justice? Ser Criston, you’ve not been wronged. It’s the putting of fragile men like you in positions of power that placed us here.”

“Do you mean to insult your King? And his father before him?”

“I mean to insult you,” you assure him, the guarantee of sure punishment freeing you to say what you wish, “and the chip you’ve held upon your shoulder ever since you were foolish enough to think that Rhaenyra would ever lower herself-“

Criston slams his hand against a wall, making you flinch. He walks over and kneels until his nose is level with yours. In contrast to all you’ve said, his presence being this close makes your breath tremble.

“I shall worry not,” he shrugs. “For your husband will not be as kind to you as I have been…”

——

6 Days Later

The dripping water of the cells of the Red Keep have become your only friend in the two days you’ve been trapped. You’ve convinced yourself that this may be what you deserve; people have lived right beneath your feet for so long, maybe the Gods think it wise for you to live below as well. You can bear most of it, the hunger, the nakedness, the constant worry, the smell of mold and rotting rodent corpses. What you could do without, though, is the talking. The constant visits from none other than Lord Larys Strong, the man who ran you away in the first place, has nearly driven you mad. 

For hours upon hours he will speak in circles. From how he became a cripple to what he believes the King should do with you, he will visit and revisit each topic thrice over until he’s hungry; at which point he will leave and return with food for you both, only so that he can continue talking. 

The not knowing is eating you alive more than the rats ever could. 

What is Lucan thinking?

Is Dragonstone safe?

Will Rhaenyra come to free you?

Does Aemond plan to let you rot?

Will your child live?

All questions you keep to yourself, for the last thing you wish to do is give in to Larys’ efforts and indulge in his senseless conversation. 

“Through your eyes, I’m sure it is hard to see. But I am sorry for what is to come, Princess,” he says. “All I did, I did for the good of the realm. At a time, I hoped us to be friends.”

You only stare at the corner, the wet decaying bars being a prettier sight that Lord Larys. Although you do not wish to hear them, you do not dare miss a single one of his words. What is to come, you do not know. But you can only pray that the Gods have mercy and goodness stored on the other side of the threat. 

Larys stands, wobbling as he pours his weight upon his old cane. You anticipate the slam of the heavy door, but it never comes. Instead, Larys’ set of footsteps are replaced with another. Shutting the door behind him, your snow haired husband strides in, looming over you. He’s stoic, his hands behind his back and his chin lowered.

“H- Husband…” you tremble, the cold seeming to rush in all at once.

“You have wounded me, wife, I must admit,” he stares. 

“Aemond…” you slowly shake your head, tears filling your eyes. “I only did what I believed was right.”

“Belief takes many men’s heads these days. You shall thank the Gods you’re not a man, I think.”

You pull your knees to your chest as Aemond’s lips struggles against a frown.

“I’m no stranger to betrayal, but I hadn’t thought you to be so craven as to turn against your true family.”

“I have not turned against my family,” you argue, the skin on your knees peeling from the constant dampness. “I have only turned against evil.”

“Granting you a seat at the Red Keep, a husband, a handmaiden, a say, that is evil? I myself am not a pious man, but I do think that we’ve done you great reverence with our terms.”

“I never asked for this…” you weakly admit, “I’ve only ever wanted to find my way…To hurt you was far from my intent-“

“But you did!” Aemond shouts, briefly losing his composure as he strikes your bars, a loud cling ringing out. 

He breathes deeply as you shield your head for the anticipated impact. Though, it never comes. Instead, he returns to his previous position, resting his hands on the handle of his sword.

“You did, Auriela. More than I thought possible…When Lucerys Velaryon stole my eye, a part of my very being, I vowed to never be found so vulnerable again. So easily exploited. And to that I stayed true, until I met the woman in the brothel. And again when I met you…or what I believed to be you. The few nights we spent together were long and loving, I thought we were one, wife,” he inhales, his voice trembling a bit as he caresses his handle. “When you left, you hurt me more than Luke’s blade ever could…Would you call it wrong for me to want you to hurt like I hurt?”

Tears stream from your eyes but your face stays flat. “Torture me as you must, Aemond. My tongue will be cut before I speak the answers you seek.”

“You call me by name now…moments ago it was husband,” he notices. You miss the point he intends to make. “An unnecessary measure regardless. As punishment for your feeble loyalty, I asked my brother to send you to exile. Old Valyria, I suggested. So your body would turn to hardened stone as my heart has. So you could experience the cold and slow decay that I felt each day you refused to return to me. Alas, I mustn’t speak for the King.”

Your eyes frantically follow your husband as he walks toward the door, two men following behind him; with them, a putrid stench. The metal clanging emerges in front you to be none other than Criston Cole, behind him, the King himself. You feel yourself shrinking underneath their gaze, Aegon’s smirk making you want to vomit. Ser Criston walks around Aemond, a sack in his hand. 

“Tell this traitorous twat what you told me, Ser Criston,” Aegon says, staring at you.

“Your lover is said to have fought until the last hack, you should be proud,” Cole sighs. “He was determined to save you, even as he watched your ship sail away,” He sets the contents of the bag on the wooden table beside him with a thunk. “I am told that the last words to slip from his mouth was your name. Before he met the chopping block, that is.”

Your heartbeat seems to slow so drastically that you’re afraid it may stop…you hope it will stop. You aren’t aware of how rapidly the tears are flowing down your cheeks until they pool on your arms. The men seem to be looking through you as you sit with your mouth agape, so many thoughts going through your head, yet not one intelligible enough to make sense of.

Why? You ask the Gods. Why this? Why now? You’ve prayed to the Mother your whole life, and yet she allows the Father to mutilate your love’s soul before handing it to the Stranger. Do they make a sport of torturing you? Do they laugh from their high seats as you struggle to grasp what’s in front of you? What have you done but what was expected of you? Why?

Lucan’s severed head and hands are battered. Black, blue, red, and swollen, the flies have their fix with his rotting skin. One of his eye sockets is less swollen than the other, sunken in. You reckon that was at Aemond’s request, now his everlasting battle to take the eye of another to compensate for his own can finally be put to rest. But why this, Mother? Lucan is good, he is just. He is good simply because his heart allows it, he was born so. Suddenly you regret the words you last spoke to him. You regret not listening, you regret not coming to him with empathy and understanding rather than spite and anger, you regret not kissing him once more, you regret not loving him harder, you regret what fate you’ve brought him to…Perhaps you regret ever meeting him. For Lucan’s life as a whore on the Street of Silk would’ve given him satisfaction until he was too old to withstand it, at which point he’d turn to Dorne, perhaps. Maybe he’d take up a position at the Tavern with Pate, maybe travel the world with the wealth he’s accumulated.

But now, as his mangled and rotten remains stare back at you, you know that he’ll never have a chance to see any of it out. This is the end of his story. You wonder if he knew that his love for you would come at such a great price, if he’d still love you. You would hope not, but you know he would.

It all matters not, for this is where we are. Now, as the three boys wickedly smirk at your naked and weakened body, you make your final decision. As you told Aemond, you will not speak. You will not give them the satisfaction of telling them of your time at Dragonstone nor the plans of Rhaenyra. They will gain nothing from you, as they cannot take what you refuse to give. Your death now surely imminent, you find peace in the knowing that no one will miss you. You find peace in knowing that your child will never have to live in this cruel and unforgiving world. Vialy will forget you once your letters fail to arrive, your memory will fade from Rhaenyra and her family as their heads are caught in war. You can only hope that Cregan helps young Maeserys find his place in this life. As you look to Aemond, you also wish for Cregan to hold his head, flies nipping at his severed neck as they do now to Lucan. But as you are presently, your hopes and dreams do not matter, nor does your short life. The only vengeance that you can truly expect is the fall of the greens and rise of the blacks. That shall be enough for you, the peril of this nefarious family and the rise of the true rightful heir. 

Aegon unsheathes his blade as Criston begins to unlock your cell. You know not exactly what the men’s plan is. But you’re sure that your death shall come after. You only can stare at what was once your lively and witty lover as all fear departs your body. The Stranger is in this room, you’re sure of it. And as you shut your eyes one final time, you accept his presence with welcoming arms.

“The Queen, long may she reign,” you mutter just before Aegon’s rough hands rip you from your spot.

[jimblejamblewritings]

The Dragon Heir | part 10.

Summary: What happens when King Viserys' only current heir is a choice between his twin daughters? The realm will not accept a woman but you have no care for what the realm thinks it won't accept.

Warnings: it's the game of thrones realm, and obviously incest comes with the Targaryen package but it still deserves a second warning. extra warnings because they are needed for this part — child death and violence.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x black!reader, Daemon Targaryen x targaryen!reader

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: So Season 2 started off way darker than I thought would happen. Anyway... I'm so sorry for what y'all are going to read.

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

The doors of Dragonstone opened early in the morning as Jace came running through. He looked around for his aunt but couldn’t find you anywhere, going to his parents and brother instead before moving to his betrothed. Baela and Rhaena’s tears fell silently, creating a puddle around their feet. 

“I’m so sorry I missed the funeral. The raven did not arrive very quickly,” Jace said as he sat down in between the two. 

Rhaena rested her head on his shoulder while Baela grabbed his hand. She tried to breathe evenly as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. The entire hall seemed silent. No one really knew what to do or what to say. Rhaena finally looked up. 

“He was so young. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else but…” 

“We’ve all prepared for war,” Jace said in understanding. “He and Naelyra haven’t. Joffrey hasn’t. Even Viserys hasn’t. We are all prepared to die but they shouldn’t even fear it.” 

Daemon came back with Viserys and Naelyra, having taken them to eat and wash up. Unless they were with Baela or Rhaena he didn’t want his youngest children out of his sight. He didn’t want his eldest out of his sight either. No one heard you enter the hall. You almost made it to the end of the war table before Laenor spotted you, calling everyone to attention when he stuttered out your name. 

Everyone said “Your Grace” as they saw you. You didn’t acknowledge any of them as they bowed to you. Your hair wasn’t done, you were in a sleeping gown without even an overcoat on it, there was nothing on your feet, you had no crown. Everything about you was a hot mess. You bit your lip as you knocked on the table. Daemon looked on in concern as you wobbled a little. 

“Please sit down, Your Grace. We have much to discuss with less and less time before war.” He took off his cloak, giving it to Ser Erryk to hand to you. 

You tried to smile at your husband, even if it was only a little. He was trying to take care of you without making you look weak. You had to be a queen. And queens are not weak. Despite smiling, you were shaking your head as you took your seat. 

“War is already upon us. They declared it when they murdered our son. We let Otto walk out of here without a scratch on his men’s armor. I was a fool to believe the rules of warfare, including not shooting messengers especially when no war has been declared, would be followed all the same by them.” 

Daemon shook his head. “No, My Fire, please do not keep hurting yourself. We were all fools to try and belie—” 

(Daor, Ñuhys Perzys, rāelagon aōle ōdretā daor. Kostilus.)

“No. I am the queen. It was my decision to send the children. I did not have to listen to anyone but I did. That was my choice. Only mine. I killed Aerys.” 

(Daor. Nyke dāria iksan. Riñar jikagon ñuhon iderennon iksin. Ryptegon va mirtys bēvilin daor yn gaomin. Bonir nyke dāria iksan. Mērī nyke. Nyke Aerys ossēnin.) 

“No.” 

(Daor.) 

“Daemon.” 

“I am your husband and king. You will not burden this choice alone.” 

(Aōhys valzȳrys se dārys. Ao busy dāria mērī maghilā daor.) 

“Alright.” You nodded, wiping at your face to get rid of any stray tears. 

Daemon adjusted his sword. “So, what do you want, my Queen?” 

(Sepār, ñuha Dāria, skoros ao jaelā?)

“I want everyone to know. The Greens must pay for what they have done to Prince Aerys. I want all of Westeros to know what they did to our son.” You turned to your Queensguard. “Ser Erryk, please bring me every bit of paper in this wretched place.” 

“All of it, Your Grace?” 

“Yes. Every scrap, every wax seal and spare candles, everyone’s stamps, the spare ones as well, and all the ink you can find. I want every inch of Westeros covered in letters of their betrayal. I want everyone here to write until your hands fall off and then write some more. Tell them what you saw left of Aerys. Tell them what happened. We do not have a lot of time before they scheme for something else.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

“Baela, Rhaena, please help your mother. I should like to get dressed.” 

That brought a smile to everyone’s face. Baela kissed your cheek. 

“I’m going to find your dress, Your Grace.” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

She didn’t leave until she was sure Rhaena had a good grip on you. Your second eldest child helped you stand with ease. You were feeling less dizzy than when you first came into the room. Rhaena’s gasp garnered everyone’s attention as you began walking. Everyone, you included, looked down at what she was staring at. Blood trailed behind you. Daemon’s eyes went wide as he ran to you, stopping short of just touching when you shook your head. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you said with almost no feeling. “I stopped taking the moon tea just for a little bit. If it didn’t happen within the two months then I would have started drinking it again. I’ve had no pain, no illness. I thought it would be easy this time.” 

Daemon shushed you, finally closing the gap. He rested his forehead against yours before giving you a hug. You let him try to comfort you. Your hands gingerly stroked the part of his arm that you could reach. Turning your head, you looked at your husband. 

“I need you to do something for me.” 

“Anything.” 

“Rhaena, please get the midwife and help the maester prepare what is needed. I need you, Rhaenyra.” 

Your sister wasted no time being at your side. She wiped your face for you, telling your daughter that she can let go of you. Leaning most of your weight on her, you let Rhaenyra begin to lead you up the stairs to exit the hall. 

“Wait.” You turned around, looking straight at Daemon. “You must wait for the day we send out the letters. They must know why we’ve done it. Promise me you will wait until I tell you.” 

“I promise.” 

(Nyke kīvio.)

“I want the usurper prince’s head.” 

Rhaenyra looked at you. “You are going to get Aemond Targaryen? Now?” 

“A son for a son.” 

(Trēsy syt trēsy.)

Daemon nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. Please go see the midwife, My Fire.” 

You let Rhaenyra take you away. Ser Erryk and the other Queensguard members came back with the first round of letter making supplies. Paper started going around as people found whatever surface they could to write on. Maids came in with a wooden bucket of water and some rags. Daemon stopped them before they could bend down. 

“Don’t, I’ll clean it myself.”  

“Your Grace?” 

“Please let me do it. Just start writing letters for your queen.” 

“Us too?” 

“Yes, everyone, smallfolk included. Whenever you aren’t working please just write some.” 

They finally relented the bucket, feeling sorry as they did. Daemon set his sword on the table. The scuffing sound of his boots as he took stiff steps towards the blood grated on everyone’s ears.

His hand plunged into water to grab a rag before beginning to clean up the floor. Everyone looked over after what felt like minutes of Daemon on the floor. Laenor came over to him. Daemon only looked up when the rag was taken from his hold. 

“The blood is gone, Your Grace.” 

“No, I’m not done cleaning.” He took the rag back, soaking it in water once more before scrubbing. 

Laenor tried to grab his shoulder. “Cousin, cousin, the blood is gone.” 

“It is everywhere.” 

“The blood is g—” 

“It is everywhere.” 

Daemon’s small voice shook the hall. The Rogue Prince was never one for quiet whispers. He nearly knocked over the bucket as he stood up, throwing the rag back into the soapy water. His gaze turned icy as he stared at everyone. His eyes only stopped when he landed on Rhaenys.

“If you’d have acted when you had the chance, Aegon’s line would be extinguished and Aerys would be alive.” 

Taking his sword from off of the table, Daemon left the hall. Rhaenys shook her head when Laenor approached her. 

“I am fine. He needs someone to blame here where he can get to them. Come, our queen has requested we write. I’m afraid we must do so before the King consort flies to the Keep by himself.” 

Daemon reached your door. His eyes went wide at the sight of bloody rags in concern that it was too much. The midwife shook her head. 

“She wasn’t far enough along for there to be anything more than blood.” 

“This is all of it?” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

“We’ll take them. A small funeral, just us, no one else… My Fire.” 

You were in the bath still, beckoning him over. Daemon set his sword and the sheets by the chair. Taking off his outer top, he watched the maester leave before kneeling by your tub. He dipped the large seashell in the water, pouring it over your hair and repeating until it was clinging to your skin. He started combing your hair from the ends. 

“I want him dead for killing our son. I want his brother dead for starting a war over my throne. I want his mother dead for going into my father’s chamber that day. I want his grandsire dead for being the Hand to a sweet king.” 

(Hen ossēnare īlvi trēsy ziry morghe nyke jaelan. Hen rhaenare vīlībāzma tolmiot ñuhon dēmalion zȳhon lēkia morghe nyke jaelan. Hen jare iemnȳ ñuha kepus vumbiarzy kona tubis zȳhon muña morghe nyke jaelan. Hen issare Ondos syt dōnys dārys zȳhon kekepa morghe nyke jaelan.)

Daemon took the washrag to your skin. “And what of Helaena?” 

(Sepār spare hen Helaena?) 

“The only flower to come from those weeds. I want a boat for her and her children.” 

(Hen zirȳla sepār zȳha riñar lōgor jaelan.)

“Where will they go?” 

(Skoriot pōnta īlzi?)

“Here. Dreams did make us kings.” 

(Kesīr. Ēdruryr dāryr īlōnda sētetis.) 

Daemon sighed. “Not these dreams again. Visery–” 

(Daor ēdruryr arlī.) 

“No, listen to me. Dreams made us kings. Dreams saw the Doom. Helaena is a dreamer.” 

(Daor, va nykēla ryptēs. Ēdruryr dāryr īlōnda sētetis. Ēdruryr Vējes ūndisi. Helaena urnekio iksis.) 

Daemon nodded. He helped you out of the tub and dressed you. The two of you embraced, allowing yourself another moment before having to face everyone. You both took the sheets and left for the beach. Ser Erryk, an ever familiar and slightly overbearing presence, was understanding enough to take more than a few steps back. 

Caraxes and Cannibal tried to bury themselves in the sand as much as possible. They only lifted their heads when you set down the sheets. You looked at your dragon for a moment before taking one of the smaller sheets out of the pile and keeping it by you. You held onto Daemon, taking his hand when it started to shake. 

“Cannibal, draca— teinbran.” 

The green flames from before burned stronger and brighter than before, hints of orange in it this time. Daemon turned his head to look at you when the flames subsided and the sheets were nothing but ash. 

“You’ve seen the flames. He isn’t a Valyrian dragon, not completely. If the orange fire holds any truth then at least one ancestor must be Valyrian but that’s not all he is. Why would they say Cannibal is older than our arrival on Dragonstone? That would make him older than Balerion and that old bitch lived to be two hundred. It isn’t possible, not for our dragons. But that’s not what they said about Westerosi dragons.” 

“They all fled or were killed by us. If not by us then by others past Westeros.” 

“Wild dragons make their own rules. Cannibal responds to my Valyrian commands because we are bloodbound. He understood Old Tongue because that is the fire he was born in, a fire of First Men. He eats our dragons because they aren’t his kind. He is only nice now because I am his kin.” 

“His flame is green,” Daemon conceded. 

“His flame is green.” 

He rolled his eyes and smiled the first genuine smile of the day. “I suppose most of his characteristics are different. What are you going to do with him? Since you don’t own a Targaryen dragon.” 

“I’m going to burn Aegon Targaryen and feed his mount to my dragon. Let us go back to them.” 

You took the final small sheet with you as you made your way back to the castle. Daemon looked back once, painfully aware of the Cannibal’s silent stalking behind the two of you.

You could have thought a tragedy hadn’t occurred two weeks earlier based on how serene Dragonstone appeared. Everyone had been busy writing for you. The only thing out of the ordinary was the blockade catching some smuggler ships trying to sneak by. Daemon had a prisoner that you promised you would see after Aemond was handled. Anything she wanted, if the price wasn’t too great, you would give her for her valuable information. 

The sound of giant staffs knocking against the floor made everyone look up. The herald cleared his throat. 

“Queen Laelara Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne of Westeros.” 

There was already a nice stack of letters finished and people were writing more. It helped that the letters weren’t very long. It was easy to fly through them. Picking up one, you read over it: 

Written on the Day of the Father, 

A few days ago, on the Day of the Crone, the usurper prince Aemond Targaryen used his dragon to murder Aerys Targaryen. On a visit to Lord Baratheon, as a messenger during a time of peace, Lucerys Velaryon and Aerys met their cousin already at Storm's End. Lord Baratheon himself had to put a stop to Aemond's threats. 

An alliance between the Baratheons and the Targaryens was forged when Lord Baratheon agreed to betroth his young daughter to the youngest prince. A betrothal that last no more than half a night. Aemond's mount, Maemar, tried to burn Lucerys when Aemond couldn't succeed in taking his eye. As Lucerys ran, Aemond and Maemar didn't stop but kept spewing fire. 

Aerys wasn't even alive when they returned to Dragonstone. The screams from Queen Laelara were horrifying. Aerys was completely unrecognizable on half his body. I saw the corpse with my own eyes. In a time of peace, under Aegon Targaryen's command, they have murdered a child to solidify their false claim to the throne. Aerys was only five, his nameday hadn't even come. 

I swear this to the best of my knowledge by the old gods and new, 

Princess Baela Targaryen

You nodded approvingly at the stack, calling over a maid. “Every time they finish enough letters to be stacked this high, put them in a basket. Split the baskets evenly amongst Cannibal, Meleys, Seasmoke, and Syrax.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

“We don’t need to write an individual letter to every man, woman, and child in King’s Landing. We just need enough for gossip. Lord Corlys, you are relieved from this duty to tend to the seas.” 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” 

“Rhaenyra will go to Dorne and Oldtown. Laenor will go to The Reach, the Westerlands, and the Iron Islands. Rhaenys will go to the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and the Vale of Arryn while Daemon and Caraxes take over watch of the Gullet. Do not stop unless you need rest, do not meet with lords or ladies longer than handing them a letter and taking a drink or some more food. Drop the letters from the sky and continue moving. Wait, Jane.” 

The maid came back. “Yes, Your Grace?” 

“Please take the kitchen servants with you to prepare meals for our riders to take with them. Enough for two days. The dragon keepers can abandon their lettermaking as well. Make sure the dragons are fed, cleaned, and in presentation armor. Nothing threatening.” 

“Yes, Your Grace. Is that all?” 

“I’ll need a saddle for Cannibal. It doesn’t have to be perfect, I just have to stay on without worrying for my life. But please have them get started on making one.” 

“What would you like on it?” 

“I need two extra seats behind mine. Big enough to fit adults but with proper straps for children. Bags, lots of them.”

“Where are you going with Cannibal, Laelara?” Rhaenyra asked as she placed another letter down on the new pile. 

“I am going North, north of the North… and King’s Landing.” 

“You can’t.” 

“When we kill Aemond I must be there to answer the question why. Otherwise anything the Greens say will become truth.” 

Jace cleared his throat. “Let me fly out on Vermax and I can wa—” 

“No.” 

“Your Grac—” 

“I’m going. I will not let another one of you get hurt. I’m sorry but I can’t let you go out. Not this soon.” 

Rhaenyra put a hand on her son’s shoulder, letting him know to just stop arguing with you.  Everyone understood that there was no getting through to you. Whether it was smart or not, you were going to King’s Landing. 

“Are your Goldcloaks ready?” 

Daemon nodded. 

You turned to everyone else. “If something should happen to me while we are getting Aemond, Daemon will be in charge until Viserys is old enough to rule on his own. If something should happen to both of us, Rhaenyra will be Queen Regent.” 

Rhaenyra stood to attention. “I will watch over your children well should it come to it. Baela and Rhaena will want for nothing. Naelyra will be raised alongside Joffrey. Viserys will never be without love and protection.” 

“Thank you, sister.” 

Daemon put a hand on your waist. “It will take them four days to prepare the body. No doubt they will host a funeral. Whether the task is accomplished or not we will be back before the sun rises. We’ll return to King’s Landing in two days’ time. Her Grace is going to stay hidden in the Kingswood with her dragon. I will come back to take over the Gullet. You all must be ready to fly out when we return.” 

Because of the nature of the mission, and because you had to come back later, you and Daemon rode together on Cannibal. His silent nature and frankly disturbing ability to blend into the night was exactly the cover you needed. Your dragon landed on the beach, allowing Daemon to get off before leaving to hide on the cliffs. You didn’t untie yourself, in case a quick escape was needed. Even though he told you to leave him should he not return before the sun rises, you didn’t want to. No more lives needed to be lost. 

Daemon wandered through King’s Landing easy enough. Not only were his Goldcloaks loyal but a lot of guards could be bought with gold and the right amount of hatred. He didn’t stop moving until he found who he was looking for. Blood and Cheese only needed money and a name to carry out their task. 

“And what if we can’t find him?” one of the men asked as he began to walk off. 

Daemon turned around. “A son for a son. Maybe their other brother is home. Either way, there’s a king who roams those halls, sleeps in those halls, lives his every waking moment in those halls. A false heir’s head sits as nice as the dragon rider’s one. Don’t spill any blood past your target. Only a son for a son. You won’t be paid for anything else.” 

You waited with Cannibal, your dragon listening for the signal from Daemon. The whistle reached the giant creature’s ears even when you didn’t hear it. He stayed at the gate on the beach while you unstrapped yourself. The guard at the gate didn’t look up from counting his money as the gate opened for you. 

“She the Queen?” he asked with what could be mistaken for indifference. 

“Yes.” 

He bowed only his head before starting his journey to lead you through the tunnels to meet the ratcatchers. “Your Grace. When they get him, that whole Keep will be up in flames. You have a boat? It better be quick.” 

“We took a dragon.” 

The guard scoffed. “Impossible. You can hear a dragon. Even the quiet ones don’t land all that pretty. Hope that boat’s quick. Hope you run quick too. Go straight down that tunnel, it’ll take you back to the beach.” 

You just smiled. Somehow a silent dragon was impossible to people… that have seen dragons. Daemon pushed you behind him when you all heard footsteps. You saw the man nicknamed Blood, Cheese not too far behind him. They presented you the bag with the head in it. A hand flew to your mouth as you tried not to scream at what you just saw. Daemon picked up the bag from where it had dropped on the ground, taking a peek inside. He ran a hand down his own face. 

“This isn’t Aemond Targaryen.” 

“Couldn’t find him. You said a son for a son. He’s a son. He’s a false heir.” 

Daemon wanted to scream but opted for whisper yelling to avoid getting caught. “I meant Aegon! What part of a king didn’t you understand? He’s a king, a false heir, a fucking son. This child isn’t even an advantage to winning this war. You couldn’t possibly believe a child was useful enough to be ki—” 

“What were your exact words, Daemon… I must know. A child is dead. I need to know it was a mistake. What did you say?” 

“A son for a son. Maybe Daeron is there. There’s a king who roams those halls, sleeps in those halls, lives his every life in those halls. A false heir’s head sits as nice as the dragon rider’s one. Don’t spill any other blood. Only a son for a son. I won’t pay you for any other bodies.” 

You nodded your head as you wiped the tears and snot away from your face. On one hand you knew exactly what he meant. On the other hand, you understood completely how it could have been interpreted. Most of your life, your side has seen Aegon as the false heir. But others would see him as the false king, or just the king if they didn’t believe you. Gently, you took the bag and handed it to the guard. 

“Please make sure he goes back to the Keep. Don’t let anybody else harm him.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

Daemon gave him more money before turning to the assassins. “We can’t pay you the other half. This isn’t what we asked for. This is not what your Queen asked of you.” 

The chaos above you all distracted everyone for a brief second. Daemon looked down first. 

“You better run. We cannot pay you nor can we protect you but I imagine the half you got is more than enough.” 

The assassins nor the guard had a chance to answer. You and Daemon began to run. You tried not to be a wreck before Cannibal sensed something and enacted revenge on the Red Keep. Daemon didn’t try to touch you when you landed. It was like your grief had come back tenfold. 

He was the one to wake up the entire castle and tell them of the plans ahead. Dragons’ saddles were being filled with supplies. Riders were dressed in armor they seldom wore or thought they needed when on dragon back. Baskets of letters were being attached to each dragon, ropes thrown onto the saddles so they could be pulled open with convenience. Every rider got little sleep in between getting dressed in armor and waiting for their final meal in the castle. 

You grabbed your kids as they ran to you, giving each of them a kiss to the forehead. Rhaena and Baela held onto you and Daemon a little longer, more aware of the potential consequences then their younger siblings. 

Ravens would be sent out immediately or in a few hours, you all had to act now. This wasn’t Aemond. The Greens weren’t going to hesitate in telling everyone of the tragedy. You climbed up Cannibal, placing your sword in the sheath on the saddle and tying it in. The Crownlands were your goal. Then after that you were going to King’s Landing. 

Just as you suspected, when morning came, ravens flew past you and Cannibal, going to where you had just been. You took your dragon to Harrenhal for a rest in their woods. It would be a day or so at best and two days at worst. You’d fly over to the Kingswood tomorrow and see for yourself. As Rhaenyra began her journey back to Dragonstone, you passed her in the sky. She dropped her extra letters along the path before flying off to where you couldn’t see her or Syrax anymore. 

You heard the beating of the drums which meant the funeral procession must have started. Your hunch was correct. They chose to throw one. Scorpions sat at the Red Keep but nowhere else in the city for now.

There was no good place to put them without destroying a building or so. They didn’t go very far either. Cannibal was tough as nails and a stupid little arrow wouldn’t hurt him but you didn’t want to take the chance of him getting shot in the eye trying to protect you. You wanted no more death for at least a little while. Avoiding the keep, you began dropping letters. You’d catch up with the funeral later. 

The funeral procession made great progress through King’s Landing as people grieved with Helaena and Alicent. The shouts were overwhelming. All she wanted was her son to be burned like her father. A small affair. Then she could grieve in peace without the eyes of every citizen staring her down. 

Everyone looked up when the first few letters hit their heads. The smallfolk cowered at the sight of a black dragon, bigger than what they were used to seeing, perching on the tall columns built so they wouldn’t break tile roofs.

You didn’t move, allowing them to see you but trying to eliminate the intimidation they might have. Fingers began to break wax seals as they all started to read. You looked out to see the funeral procession with Alicent and Helaena. 

Cannibal was reluctant but he eventually bent down his head so you could get off. You grabbed the flowers from his bag before stepping down. You stayed underneath your dragon, knowing that none of the guards would make a move to step to close. Making sure everyone could still see you, you held up your leather sheathed sword. 

“I mean no harm. I came to pay my respects.” 

“Is it true?” a smallfolk asked. “The letter.” 

“Yes.” 

“You wanted the kinslayer?” 

“Only him… and his dragon.” 

Alicent finally opened one of the letters that had dropped into her lap. Her face paled. You turned away from the smallfolk and towards your sister. 

“I am grieving too. You must know, Helaena, I never asked for this. We would never har— I was going to bring you a boat, keep you safe in Dragonstone. I understand your pain. Please believe me, I would never do this to another mother. I cannot lie to you. I wanted Aemond Targaryen. I wanted Aegon Targaryen. I never thought anyone besides Aemond would be capable of murdering a child. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

You held your breath when Helaena got up. There was no moment where you believed you would get out without harm but you had to come to King’s Landing. You needed to let them know that it was never your plan. She turned to the guards. 

“She is alright.” Helaena went to you and grabbed your hand. “Would you like to see him?” 

You nodded and let her lead you to the small casket. Your nephew looked peaceful, at least the assassins didn’t beat him beyond repair or recognition. The smallfolk watched as you tucked the flowers around him before kissing his forehead. Taking off the necklace with the Valyrian steel flower and yellow jewel, you placed it in his hands. You gave Helaena a hug, squeezing her tightly. Without you asking, she accepted that you were telling the truth. 

“Will you give him the honor?” 

You sighed. “I don’t think it smart for me to stay much longer.” 

“Please. Just until the Sept of Baelor. I don’t want to go to the dragon pits.” 

Knowing this was incredibly stupid, you gave in. “I trust you… Just until the Sept.”  

You were worried about the news spreading to the Keep faster than the cart could travel as more of King’s Landing saw you on the cart. You would have brought a cloak if you had expected to stay. A lot of the streets had already opened their letters before the cart arrived to where they were waiting along the sides. You understood Helaena’s uncomfortableness. Now, they were staring at you with the same sadness as they threw rice or screamed. 

And if not you, then your dragon who’s only presence was the shadow he casted over everyone as he flew. You were relieved to see no guards at the Sept aside from the ones that had been with the cart. The part of the cart carrying Jaehaerys was taken towards the steps per Helaena’s request. The people hung onto every word of Alicent’s speech. 

“Do you want to say anything?” you asked your sister. 

She simply shook her head. You stood from the cart, bringing Cannibal to high alert. He calmed when you looked at him, showing that you were alright. The fire that came from your dragon was controlled, only aiming for the casket without burning down the city. Everyone looked in awe at the green flame that despite being a small stream still radiated so much heat. 

You gave your sister one last hug. “I really must go before your brother realizes I am here.” 

Helaena grabbed you before you could step down. “Two men must die under a watching god’s eye. A crown can choose which two.” 

You nodded. “Thank you, Helaena.” 

Alicent grabbed her daughter. “What did you tell her? What did you tell her?” 

“I’d be careful,” you whispered, making the other woman stop and look at you. “A city is made with many eyes.” 

Helaena smiled at your poor attempt to understand and speak her riddles. You gave her a final nod before stepping down from the funeral cart. 

“Your Grace!” 

You stopped to look for who had called you. It was a man, something that shocked you a bit. You hadn’t expected any resident of King’s Landing, especially the men, to see you as queen. He squared his shoulders back. 

“The Gullet is presenting a problem. I know you have to fight. I’m not saying you don’t but we’re starving here. The lords and ladies don’t need anything. They can send their pretty knights out to the Kingsroad. If us smallfolk did, then we wouldn’t have enough wages to afford the food. It’s hard out here, Your Grace. We work, we don’t eat. We eat, we’re out of work.” 

“I can’t let you have the Gullet.” 

The man swallowed. “I understand, Your Grace.” 

You sighed. If the smallfolk started to be on your side then you won. You needed them and right now they were giving you a way in. But you meant it. You couldn’t give them the Gullet. The blockade was almost finished. Rhaenys’ dragon wouldn’t need to be there to manage the gaps. Letting it open now would be sabotage. 

“Do you have anyone responsible for food? A collector of sorts?” 

“No, Your Grace.” 

“What is your name?” 

“Calrin Bole, Yo—” 

“It is fine.” 

“Yes, Your Gra— Yes.” 

“What do you do, Ser Bole?” 

“I’m an axeman. Ladywife’s a laundress.” 

“Do you have any children?” 

“Two. Both boys. Our eldest just finished his apprenticeship as a swineherd. Full fledged man, now.” He smiled proudly when you smiled. “Youngest is too sick to work. Might work for his mother.” 

“How much does being an axeman pay?” 

“Depends. I usually work in the Kingswood. Get six silver stags for bringing in a cartful. Do it every week. Sometimes they send me to Harrenhall or the Stormlands. Get only three silver stags for that.” 

“Hmm. Did you get this work alone or under a trade?” 

“A trade.” 

“Please tell your trade that I will pay them ten silver stags for each week you are out of work. From now on, you and whatever men you deem worthy will bring food into King’s Landing for the people. Only for the people. You will be paid two gold dragons each. The food will cost nothing. I understand this is not an ideal manner to go about but I cannot let the Gullet go.” 

“The food will cost nothing?” 

“Nothing.” 

“What if you can’t pay for the food? Will it cost us then?” 

“No. If I must farm every wheat stalk myself to pay a debt should it occur then I will. The smallfolk should not suffer from a dragon blowing smoke. There will be Winterfell graybeards to escort the carts and make sure only the smallfolk are fed.” 

“Thank you, Your Grace.” 

“It is no matter. Expect a raven in a week’s time. It’ll be delivered to the Dragon Gate. Please hold out until then.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

“I really must go now before my dear brothers put an arrow through my face.” 

Everyone bowed as you began to walk back to the Cannibal. He bent his head once again. You began to climb up when you were stopped once more. 

“Your Grace!” a small boy said. “I’m sorry to hear what happened to your son. The kinslayer should be held responsible.” 

You tried not to cry as you gave him a nod, finally climbing aboard Cannibal. The smallfolk watched you hold on tight to Cannibal’s small spikes before the dragon took off without making a sound. Cannibal went just outside of King’s Landing before slowing down immensely so you could stop holding on for dear life. Now that no one was watching, you finally strapped yourself in properly. You patted the scales. 

“Alright, you old bitch, to the North.” 

You got a snort and a face full of dragon smoke in reply. Now that you were used to it, dragon riding was peaceful. Probably because you weren’t with Rhaenyra or Daemon who liked to go as fast as they could possibly handle. You were content with not blowing your face off. Cannibal was faster than any horse but he wasn’t going the fastest he could. 

“Can you go all the way without stopping?” 

In the pitch black night, the only thing that could be seen were the occasional huffs of green fire Cannibal let out so you could see. Even though his main source of food was dragon, Cannibal did eat other things. One of the large saddle bags was dedicated solely to dragon food, which meant carrying overcooked and practically jerkied meat. Lots of it. 

“Supper.” 

Cannibal slowed down immensely as he let out a stream of green fire. You threw the overcooked lamb in front of you and him, your dragon catching the meat. Was it going to fill him up for days? No but you would restock at Winterfell. Plus, it was impractical and probably very smelly to keep more than three days worth of meat on your saddle. Even if it was cooked. 

“I’m going to sleep.” 

You earned a response in the form of a puff of fire. You undid your leg straps before loosening the cables of your hip harness so you could stand up. You were grateful they sewed a wolf pelt to the borrowed saddle before you left. At least you would have something comfortable for your butt.  

Getting off of your knees, you readjusted yourself so you were sitting in the saddle instead of kneeling it. You retied the leg straps around your ankles now and tightened the harness back. Taking off your crown, you placed it in another saddle bag before reaching for the water canteen and some bread with jam for yourself. 

“We’ll need to stop when we wake up. I’ll have to take a piss.” 

Another puff of fire. 

“Goodnight, Cannibal.” 

The bright light of the morning sun woke you up. You were going to pat Cannibal to get down but discovered you had already landed. The men at the gate of Winterfell stiffened up at the sight of a new dragon and technically their Queen. You started to unstrap yourself and get down from your dragon as they went inside to fetch the one person you were looking for. 

Cregan Stark looked confused as his men called him to greet someone outside. He stood up straight when he noticed you. Then he noticed the beast behind you. Cregan squared his shoulders as if to tell you that he won’t be intimidated by a dragon. His eyebrow went up as you handed him a letter. 

“I need the rest of these baskets to be handed out to your subjects. I’ve already dropped them in the rest of the North. Don’t worry. He won’t bite unless I say.” 

A scoff escaped Cregan’s mouth. Now he was sure that you were trying to intimidate them. 

“Your Grace,” he said with a bow of his head. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your son. The previous raven never said it was Aemond Targ—” 

“I’d like to see the wall of ice.”

(part 11)...

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[witchofhimring]

Aemond and Y/n's family (the daughters, daughters in law and grandaughters)

This takes place in the same universe at this post. I will do a post on the boys next.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen:

Daenerys Targaryen was the first born child of Y/n and Aemond, coming into the world eleven months after their marriage. Rumors about Daenerys's illegitimacy stemmed from the fact Daenerys did not inherit her fathers white hair and had a fear of dragons. She spent the first few years of her life at Blackhalt, a island just off the coast of the Westerlands. At six she was taken to the Red Keep to be presented to Queen Rhaenyra and was chosen as the wife for Rhaenyra's grandson Viserys. As a future Queen guardianship passed from her parents to future Queen Baela. Rhaenyra died a year later and a fortnight after King Jacaerys was crowned. At ten and five Daenerys was married, against the protests of her grandmother Alicent Hightower who felt she was too young. At twenty Daenerys would give birth to her first child Rhaenyra. Shortly after Daenerys took Syrax as her dragon. Four years later Daenerys gave birth to her second child Alicent. At twenty and five Daenerys became Queen. Her tenure as Queen Consort was only five when her husband passed away. Given the political situation the council feared a child on the throne. Seven months with child, Daenerys became Queen Regnant. Three months later Daenerys gave birth to her third and final child, Baela. Daenerys would rule for fifteen years before dying of an ulcer in her belly.

Vaella of Blackhalt:

Vaella Targaryen was the second born child of Y/n and Aemond. She was first married off to Orwen Hightower, however no children came from that marriage. At twenty she became a widow and returned to Blackhalt. There she remained as regent for her mother Y/n, who was very ill. When her sister became Queen Vaela was married to the Warden of the North. She gave birth to two children, Caergin Stark and Selene Stark. She had a happy marriage and during her husbands long military campaigns acted as the Norths ruling Lady. She died in her sixties from a fever.

Elara Targaryen:

Like her eldest sister Elara was not born with Targaryen hair. Along with being born in Dorne, this once more brought rumors of Y/n's sexual conduct. In order to silence rumors Elara one day snuck into the dragon caves on Driftmark and took Cannibal as her dragon. Willful, many thought that what she lacked in Targaryen looks she made up for in spirit. She was closes to her brother Hardin who was only a year older. Elara would also make her own marriage by marrying Corin Velaryon, son of Lucerys Velaryon and Rhaena Targaryen. Elara was briefly imprisoner for this but quickly released. Elara accompanied her husband on his expeditions. Their marriage hit a hard place after a few years, however they worked to make it work and managed to end up very happy together. She had six children, Nymeria Velaryon, Naerya Velaryon, Helaena Velaryon, Saera Velaryon, Cora Velaryon and Rhaena Velaryon. At four and three Elara found herself suddenly pregnant. She gave birth to her final child Rhaena and passed away two weeks later from childbed fever.

Vissera Targaryen:

Vissera was the younger of the twins, with Elara being born two hours earlier. Unfortunately Vissera died at nine months from a fever. Her short life was spent at Blackhalt. She was buried in her families mausoleum in the Red Keep, much to her mother Y/n's displeasure.

Alice Targaryen:

Alice Targaryen was the final child of Y/n and Aemond and was the result of her parents grief. Her birth nearly killed Y/n and no more children were born to the couple. She was brought up in Blackhalt but only had her brother Viserys for company. At ten she moved to Oldtown as it was suggested she might become a Septa. This did not happen as Alice did not take to monastic life. Alicent resided in Oldtown until she was twenty and two. Despite her shyness Alice attracted unwanted attention for male suitors. Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaenyra and Daemon, considered marrying her. Alice was quick to marry Roan Baratheon, heir to Storm's End. The next year Alice gave birth to Corbin Baratheon. She and her husband ruled Storm's End together. Alice died at forty and five from a lump in her breast.

Visenya Targaryen:

Visenya was the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Daemon. She grew up in the Red Keep. At ten and five she met Elarion Targaryen, son of Aemond. She became a ward to Y/n Blackhalt and moved to the island. Visenya rode Meleys The Red Queen. At twenty and five Visenya eloped with Elarion and only came back when she fell with child. Her first child was Y/n Targaryen and a year later triplets Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys were born. Visenya convinced her brother the King to give Elarion a dragon, Caraxes. Later on she would have three more children, Raellah, Veylara and Laenor. Visenya died at fourty along with her husband in battle.

Y/n of Essos:

Y/n Targaryen was born to Visenya Targaryen and Elarion Targaryen. She was named after her paternal grandmother Y/n. Most of her childhood was spent in Essos with her parents and siblings. At ten and six Y/n was spotted by Vaeserion Targaryen, son of Jacaerys and Baela. At ten and seven Y/n and Vaeserion married. Despite the age different the two had a happy marriage. Ten years later Y/n's husband passed leaving her a widow with two stepchildren and a two year old daughter. She spent the next two decade as a single woman, being called "Lady Royal". In her forties, Prince Rhaenar, heir to the throne, falls in love with him. Y/n becomes his mistress however Rhaenar wanted to marry her. Horrified, Y/n fleed to Storm's End which was under the rule of her cousin. Eventually Y/n and Rhaenar come to an understanding. Y/n retires to Essos and died at six and eight.

Visenya the witch of Blackhalt:

Visenya Targaryen was born the youngest of a set of twins. She was raised in Essos and at ten and six went to Westeros in order for her parents to secure a match. They had originally intended for her to marry Prince Edwin Targaryen however the match cancelled when her twin married Vaeserion. Visenya went back to Essos for a time and resided in Pentos. Visenya established her own court in Pentos and married a Pentoshi nobleman, Corbin of Pentos. Her firstborn child Astaria was shortly followed by a brother named Kiran. Visenya fought against slavery and was responsible for multiple slave riots. Visenya and Corbin would go on to have two more children, Alyara and Sephrone. She was assassinated at forty and one by slave masters.

[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 17

A/N: Baela im srry for giving you such an emotionally stunted little sister! I am very proud of this chapter btw(i barely edited this)

Rhaella ur mommy would be so proud of you!!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen the I;the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond,Cregan,slight Jace,slight Addam,original charecter

read the last chapter here!

......

WHAT KIND OF ELDER SISTER WAS SHE? Baela thought she was no longer befitting of the title. Rhaena was in the Vale alone, while Rhaella was…

Baela was no longer privy to Rhaella's doings as of late. Her younger sister had grown quite disconnected from the rest of them.

"Please sit, you'll tire yourself." Jace urged her. He watched in slight distress as his betrothed paced back and forth restlessly.

"My grandmother is fighting alone Jace!" Baela exclaimed. "And here we are just sitting around."

Jacaerys grabbed her hand gently sitting her down. The action made her relax slightly, but her mind was still racing.

"I don't like it either, but without Daemon we are stretched quite thin." He said, brow furrowing.

An uneasy silence settled over them both. They had dragons and yet the queen would not allow them to act. How would a victory ever be gained?

"I hate the way the lords treat me as if I am some coddled princeling," Jace muttered, making Baela chuckle a little.

"You are the crown prince and heir to the throne, you must act carefully." Baela reminded.

Jace hummed in thought. "Perhaps I am not completely stuck here."

Baela raised a brow, worried Jace was about to say something reckless.

"Rhaella mentioned House Frey, they have yet to choose," Jace said.

"She spoke with complete disregard for her grace, and you're here considering it?" Baela said.

It had not escaped her notice that Jace seemed to be particularly in tune regarding Rhaella's opinions. She wondered if she had missed something between them---Rhaella had not always cared for Jace until lately, while the prince thought her sister strange.

Their dynamic was quite odd to witness.

Jace stood, hand still intertwined with Baela's. He couldn't wait around any longer.

"I shall take Vermax and go myself." Jace decided. Baela shook her head.

"Her grace will not like it."

Jace placed a kiss onto her hand. "She will not know until I am long gone."

With that, he leaves Baela alone in her chamber. Jace's words stuck to her. It was not in her nature to sit idly. The least she could do was scout the battle.

So, the lady Baela with her brave spirit dawned her riding attire. She waited for a beat of time to ensure Jace had left and also that she would not be spotted.

There was one person she had not accounted for as she marched towards the dragon pits though.

Still lingering around the caves was Rhaella, stuck in a daze of sorts.

"Sister?" Baela called, bringing her out of it.

"Jace left," Rhaella said softly, her eyes were unblinking. It greatly unnerved Baela to no end.

"Yes, but he should be back soon," Baela responded. Rhaella took in her outfit, face changing into something far more expressive.

"And you're leaving as well?" Baela nodded.

"I am going to Rooks Rest."

Rhaella's eyes widened. "You mustn't!"

Baela scoffed, adjusting her glove.

"It was naught but hours ago you were calling for action," Baela said. "It was you who agreed I should've burnt Criston Cole."

Rhaella's behavior practically changed on a head, in a rather inhumane way. She gripped Baela's arm with a tight further.

"Moondancer cannot withstand Vhagar, do not be foolish," Rhaella said.

"And our grandmother shouldn't bear the burden alone," Baela responded.

Surely Rhaella knew that.

"And father..only the Gods know what he's doing at Harrenhal." Baela continued. She gestured to a dragonkeeper to summon her dragon.

"I doubt the Gods are with him," Rhaella muttered.

"Do not say such things." Baela scolded. Rhaella shrugged.

The chitters of the she-dragon bounced through the cave. Baela smiled warmly at the sight of Moondancer, patting her side.

The dragon nestled into Baela's touch, then turning her gaze to Rhaella expectedly.

Sighing, the girl gave in, petting Moondancers green scales lightly.

"Umbagon qana ,mandia." Rhaella resigned.'Stay sharp, sister' She knew better than to waste her breath any further in convincing Baela to stay.

"You know I shall," Baela assured. Mounting her dragon, she took off from the cave and into the skies.

Moondancer zipped through the skies swiftly. In truth, Baela had given little thought as to a plan. If it was Sunfyre and Aegon she'd be met with, perhaps she could manage an attack. Meleyes could more than handle the pair.

The wind whipped through Baela's short hair that was bound together in a ponytail.

It did not take long for her to arrive to the sight, though she smelled the battle before seeing it. The acrid smell of ash and blood permeated the air, causing Baela's eyes to sting.

There were bodies strewn on the ground, bloody and broken. Baela's stomach turned but tried to hold fast. She gripped the reins of Moondancer tighter, directing her through the mess.

Enemy soldiers shouted in response to her presence, some recognizing her from a fortnight ago when she chased Cole through the valley.

But what Baela saw caused the world around her to become completely mute.'

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, her beloved grandmother. Falling to the ground utop a limp, likely dead Meleyes.

Down to the ruble, Rhaenys fell. Baela screamed a choked-out cry, a futile attempt indeed.

Over the fallen dragon was Aemond atop Vhagar, looking more than proud of himself.

Him. He who had now taken the last piece of her heart. Aemond had served as a living slight to Baela's entire life.

First, he steals her mother's dragon, robbing Rhaena an attempt to claim her. Then,he slew their sweet cousin, Luke, for he was but a boy.

Somehow, he had managed to steal Rhaella's complete affection and reasoning--Causing a rift between the sisters.

And now, Aemond felt entitled to take the life of her grandmother?

Baela would not have it.

Adjusting herself on Moondacer,Baela dipped lower to the ground.

Rageful, she burned a chunk of the greens army. Moondancer's fire was not especially large.

But fire does not burn the flesh of men any less; Baela blocked out the pained cries of the soldiers. One thing plagued her mind.

Aemond must pay. He must die.

She charged Moondancer towards Vhagar brazenly, causing Aemond to take notice.

Aemond wondered if it was even worth it to slay such a tiny dragon. He certainly had no love for Baela, savage thing she was.

He wouldn't even need to burn her--Vhagar could eat them both in one go. Aemond steered his dragon to Baela, wondering if she really would attack.

At that moment, Baela seemed to snap out of her intentions, hastily turning Moondancer to flee.

Aemond knew he couldn't catch her, the dragon she possessed was far too quick. Still, he cruelly gave chase as best he could.

No real intention of killing her, and Rhaella would never forgive him. Defeating Rhaenys however, was necessary. She would come to understand it.

Aemond had much to celebrate, the title of prince regent was a breath away from him.

Baela's hair was in disarray, cheeks strewn with tears like the sea. She came here to do nothing, to do naught but watch the murder of her grandmother.

She flew back to Dragonstone---The dragonkeepers guided Moondancer back to the caves.

Baela stumbled out of the pits, halting momentarily to wipe her face. Rhaella would break at the news, and the eldest must stay strong.

She must stay strong.

Upon her return, she saw the members of the council, Queen Rhaenyra in talks with them. Rhaella looked distracted, her brows were furrowed in torment.

Baela nearly did not have the heart to add to it.

"I am told you went to Rooks Rest, without my permission no less." Queen Rhaenyra began, chiding the girl for being so reckless.

When Baela raised her head, Rhaenyra stopped abruptly.

"My grandmother has been slain."

Jace stepped forward slightly, wishing nothing more than to hold Baela.

"By Aegon?" Rhaenyra's voice broke slightly.

"Aemond." Baela could feel her eyes watering once more. She met the gaze of Rhaella--Her younger sister did not cry, nor did her face betray any emotion.

It enraged Baela, how she stood abnormally still.

"This atrocity must be swiftly answered!" Ser Alfred said others agreed.

Baela ignored them, still staring at Rhaella, whose eyes fluttered ever so slightly.

Something of a half whimper left Rhaella's lips--She moved to flee the room, likely to be alone.

"Rhaella, you must-" Jace tried, reaching out to her.

"Fuck off," Rhaella said, a coldness in her voice as she shoved past him.

"Clear the room." Queen Rhaenyra ordered. As the lords filed out, Baela ran to Jace, tears fully making themselves known.

Baela shook in his embrace as he held her tighter. In the midst of sorrow, she silently apologized to her grandmother. She tried to be brave, like her mother when she was consumed by Vhagar's flames or like Rhaenys herself in her final moments.

"Baela, come with me." Queen Rhaenyra says softly.

"But mother-" Jace tries. Baela clearly needed him, now more than ever.

"It's alright, Jace," Baela said, leaving him for Rhaenyra.

Baela and Rhaenyra entered the queen's quarters. They sat down together, Baela's sobs had been dimmed to sniffles.

"Where do you think Rhaella went?" Rhaenyra spoke first, she placed a gentle hand on Baela's leg.

"Who could know?" Baela said."She's like father in that way, fleeing when things become too much."

Rhaenyra nodded. She knew of Daemon's views regarding Rhaella. He would complain that she is silently flippant, opposing him at every turn.

However, in the same breath, he'd admit that her mind had to be some sort of weapon.

"Your grandmother was the fiercest among us, in her love and opinions," Rhaenyra said.

Baela smiled bitterly. "My mother used to tell me stories of how she used to scold her and my uncle, but could never in truth stay angry."

"Ah." Rhaenyra smiled at the incoming memories, back when things were much more simple. "I recall her being cross when Daemon fought for your mother's hand."

"They always have been at odds, but alas they were cousins," Baela said.

"I think.." Rhaenyra began, turning to Baela. "I fear there is something wrong with Rhaella."

Baela sighed,at least she was not the only one to notice.

"Sometimes, I hear to speaking to herself in her chamber," Baela admitted.

Rhaenyra's face contorted in confusion.

"She does not sleep, though she tries."

"Perhaps I should have sent her to Pentos, or away with Rhaena," Rhaenyra said.

Baela chuckled. "She'd sooner flee to the Red Keep." As the words left her mouth, she thought of Aemond--The jest instantly became unfunny.

"Well." Rhaenyra huffed. "Let us hope, for our sake, she finds what she is looking for."

........

RHAELLA SCREAMED UNTIL HER THROAT WAS RAW.

Still, though, she could not summon a single tear. Her exhaustion ate away at her but still could not find sleep.

She sat in The Cannibal's still empty cave, clutching the dragon hairpin her grandmother had gifted her.

She was gone. Rhaella felt a numbness overtake her body.

There might have been a slight sense of guilt when she thought of Aemond. However, it was nothing but apathy.

He was enjoying himself right now,Rhaella was sure. Reveling in the death of her grandmother. Aemond was likely with that bed whore Astris had mentioned.

Surely he was fond of her. Aemond still had plenty of people to care for around him, while Rhaella's numbers were dwindling.

The thought alone--Of Aemond happy by himself filled her with an unholy rage.

Placing the pin back in her hair, Rhaella decided to take an act she never thought was possible to do.

Rhaella went to her knees. Praying.

She had never prayed,or offered thanks to the Gods--Why should she?

But now, she was desperate.

Rhaella didn't even know to whom she was supposed to pray.

Perhaps…. the presence who had made himself known to her? He had plagued her with dreams and whispers. Somehow, this felt natural.

"Please." Rhaella began. She was not entirely sure what she was asking for.

Death? Mercy? A chance to prove herself?

Why not all?

"Take my soul if it so pleases you, but make me strong in return."

Rhaella clasped her hands tighter together, her scarred palms rubbed together.

"Make me powerful, grant me divine violence, and make thick my blood."

Rhaella decided she had voiced all her desires properly, she waited.

For what, she was not so sure. A sign? Or perhaps the God in question will take pity and strike her down.

What a silly girl she was.

As she raised her head, the unmistakable roars of a dragon made the cave rumble.

Her Aegarax. The Cannibal dragon.

Rhaella ran, faster than anything she ever had before. Her cloak flung behind her as she stumbled to see him.

The Cannibal landed onto the sand,staring at her. Rhaella's panted breaths slowed as all she could do was return the act.

Could this be?

As if it was a response of some kind,The Cannibal bent his neck for her.

This wild dragon, whom had killed and eaten scores of men crouched for her.

"Gods be good." Rhaella said in disbelief. She approached slowly with some semblance of confidence present.

"Aegarax?" Rhaella said, slowly reaching a hand to his nose. He leaned forward, into her touch.

"Lykiri," Rhaella spoke for good measure.

She hoisted herself on top of him, holding onto his horns. The feeling of his warmed scales underneath her was incomparable. Like a true bond.

Aegarax raised up again, stretching his wings. Rhaella briefly wondered if he would throw her off.

The Cannibal spread his wings further, beginning to walk forward.

Then he flew--Up into the skies he went, and Rhaella could do little but hold on for dear life.

Her cloak whipped behind her as well did her hair in the wind. For a time, she dared not move, seizing in place.

She was on a dragon. No, she was riding her dragon.

Sitting up slightly, Rhaella readjusted her grip onto the spikes on his back.

She looked up to the skies, passing through clouds. The air felt slightly cooler at this height.

A fit of shocked laughter left her. Rhaella tried to recall the books she had read as a child, how she watched other riders fly with their dragons.

But they had saddles, and she had nothing. Rhaella moved along with Aegarax's rhythm. The Cannibal was a little rash in his flight as he sped through the air.

At one time, Rhaella used to think that she would prefer a much slower dragon.

Clearly, her mind was changed in an instant. It occurred to her that she was hardly controlling him in any particular direction, but she hardly cared.

Aegarax could fly her well into the east for all she cared. Rhaella closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of her bond.

It was not until she reopened her eyes did Rhaella realized she was nearing Kings Landing.

Cursing, she gripped onto the cannibal's horns for control.

"Daor kesīr!" Rhaella urged 'Not here!'

After a few attempts, Aegarax detoured the path to Kings Landing, instead hovering over the woods nearby.

They very well could've been spotted, shot down even.

"Tegun kesīr" Rhaella directed, nearly sternly.'Land here.'

Through the short exchange, Rhaella found that Aegarax responded better to sharp and direct commands.

The Cannibal settled to the ground,Rhaella reluctantly jumped down from him.

Her legs wobbled, adjusting to the gravity.

Why did he bring her here, of all places? Aegarax's head plopped to the ground as if he had done his part in full.

Petting his side absentmindedly, Rhaella thought about what to do next.

If they were now bonded, perhaps he was in tune to her desires.

That brothel whore, the one who keeps Aemond company.

Rhaella raised the hood of her cloak over her head, concealing her silver locks.

Keeping her head down, she walked to the inner cities of Kings Landing. The place was just as packed as it was last time she ventured here.

Smelled twice as awful too.

Walking through the streets of Flea Bottom, Rhaella listened in for any information.

People here were starving and angry. They knew not who was leading them as Aegon seemed to disappear.

Rhaella hoped he was dead.

In the sea of people,one girl caught her eye.

It was Elinda, maid to the Queen Rhaenyra. But what was she doing here?

Rhaella hurried to catch up with her and once she was within reach she grabbed her.

"Elinda." Rhaella hissed.

"My lady?" She said once she realized who held her arm. "Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" Rhaella asked.

Elinda looked around cautiously. "I was sent here by the queen,she has a plan."

Plan? Rhaella was sure Mysaria was involved.

Elinda took in Rhaella's silence. "Come with me."

The maid directed Rhaella to one of the houses. Inside was a plump looking girl, sitting with Astris.

At the sight of Rhaella, Astris jumped from her seat.

"My lady?"

Rhaella breathed out in relief. "So you're ok."

Astris held Rhaella's hands, taking her in.

"How did you come here?" Astris asked. "By boat?"

Rhaella shook her head,taking a seat.

"My dragon." The sentence felt foreign on her tounge,but she supposed it would take some getting used to.

"What!" Astris exclaimed. "You finally claimed him?"

Rhaella's lips twitched onto a smile.

"I did."

"I am glad of it but you must return," Elinda said. Rhaella removed her hood and sat down. Noticing Rhaella's loose hair, Astris's fingers began to braid it, almost instinctively.

"I think i would rather hear about this plan." Rhaella said.

"The queen shall send food to the city," the girl blurted out. When Rhaella's attention turned to her, she blushed profusely.

"Do say it louder, Diana, so the whole city might hear you," Astris muttered sarcastically.

So the queen had considered using the people's hunger, originally Rhaella's own suggestion.

"The queen and lady Mysaria have seen to it themselves," Elinda added.

Rhaella adjusted her head slightly as Astris continued to braid.

"And when is this to happen?" Rhaella asked.

"On the morrow," Diana replied.

Come daylight, fleeing the city would be harder. Whatever she indened to do must be done this very night.

"Aegon is abed with injuries,I hear." Astris said,hands falling from Rhaella's hair.

"I hope he dies." Diana said.

Rhaella smirked. At least her grandmother hadn't gone without doing damange.

"The council has crowned Aemond prince regent," Elinda said.

"I'm sure he is positively gloating about that." Rhaella said.

It was almost funny--They both achieved something they've been longing for since childhood.

Aemond wished to be above his brother, seated on the throne.

Rhaella wished for a power,a dragon.

"He has already ordered the city gates shut, there is hardly food here," Astris says.

If Aemond got so much as an inkling that there was a plot,all the small folk would suffer for it.

"Aemond needs to be subdued in some way, at least for a time." Rhaella suggested.

Astris stood up, walking to a table laid with all sorts of books and plants. "Are you offering yourself up, my lady?"

"If you offer something I can use on him, then perhaps," Rhaella said.

Astris hummed, grabbed a book, and disappeared to the back.

"There is more." Elinda said. "The Queen has ordered me to collect any possible bastards with Targaryen blood."

"To what end?" Rhaella fiddled with her braid.

"From what I understand, there could be potential dragon riders among them."

Bastards on dragons? What a wretched idea. All her life she spent dragonless till now,and some scrappy commoner would mount one so easily?

It was nothing short of an insult. She decided to leave it to her grace,and wanted no parts of it.

Soon, Astris returned a vial of some sort in hand. Placing it on the table, she looked to Rhaella expectantly.

"What is it?" Diana asks. Rhaella picked it up; it was filled with a clear liquid, looking still like water.

"If she pours enough of it into his wine, he'll eventually enter a deep sleep," Astris says.

Meaning,Rhaella must find a way to get close--Perhaps in his chamber.

"It is dangoures!" Diana exclaimed. "She'll surely die."

"Perhaps." Rhaella mused. She had no intention of dying this night,not after the great feat she accomplished.

"Her grace would not have you put yourself in harms way." Elinda said. Rhaella ignored her, shoving the vile in her cloak.

"Astris?" Elinda tried. "The queen did not order for this."

The Pentoshi girl smiled flippantly, eyes fixed onto Rhaella. "I only serve my lady."

Elinda watched the two in half horror. Mysaria was right, Astris and Rhaella were quite the frightening match.

"I shall return, later into the night," Rhaella announced, raising up the hood of her cloak.

She slipped her dagger under the band of her stocking. "If morning comes and I still have not returned, I've been slain."

In truth,Rhaella sincerly douted that Aemond would hurt her. As it stood,she had much and more a reason to harm him.

"My lady?" Astris said,catching Rhaella's attention. "How would you like to proceed?"

Rhaella thought for a moment. She required more information before throwing herself into certain death.

"That brothel harlot," Rhaella stated, her violet eyes darkened. "I want to see her."

[starogeorgina]

𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targ oc

Warnings: Violence, dragons fighting, blood, swearing, character death, dragon death

1.17

A pit in your stomach forms as you feel bile slowly creep up the inside of your throat, burning it and leaving a horrid taste behind. It was taking everything in you not to cry. While a frantic meeting was taking place in the small council chamber, you couldn’t pull your eyes off of Jacaerys. He looks so lost. He was sitting at the far end of the table himself, holding on tightly to your daughter's toy.

He was afraid of losing her.

One of the Queen's kingsguards had come with the news that Sunfyre had broken free out of the dragonpit. The bond between dragon and rider was strong, and Sunfyre would most definitely be reunited with his rider on Dragonstone by now. Without taring your eyes away from your broken-looking husband, you blurt out, “I have a suggestion.”

All eyes turn to you, including your mother's fearful ones. You swallow thickly, and Daemon nods for you to continue. "Go on.”

“It doesn’t matter how many knights you send to Dragonstone; Sunfyre will burn them all before they ever step foot on land. The only way to win this battle is to send the dragons to war—“

“No.”

“Your grace—”

“I said no.” Your mother's voice is sharp. “When dragons fly to war, everything burns. I have already lost three children; I will not lose anymore.”

You want to argue for her to hear you out, but not wanting to disrespect your mother, you bite your tongue. If this were a private conversation, you’d happily argue your point, but not in front of a council full of men. You hold her gaze from across the table, silently letting her know you weren’t backing down.

The corner of her lips pulls into a smile. “Clear the room.”

When the council members start to leave, you lower your head slightly and your sight fixates on the shadow of the Seven-Pointed Star, which is the most prominent symbol of the faith the Hightowers replaced the Targaryen symbols with. Once the dust has settled, you'll need to speak to someone about having it destroyed and replaced with a three-headed dragon. The seven-pointed star no longer resembled the faith; it was a mockery of how blinded King Viserys was that he allowed his castle to be turned into theirs.

Hearing someone clicking their fingers, you look up again and see Daemon taking the jug of wine from the cupbearer before he leaves the room. Silently, he pours a cup for your mother, Baela, and Rhaena, but not himself, you, or Jacaerys. He notices you staring and chuckles. “I reckon we will need a clear head for whatever you have planned.”

“Aegon wants us to know he’s at Dragonstone, hoping one of us will attack. I say we do just that. If—”

Leaning back with a huff, Daemon says, “You want to give the enemy what he wants? That’s your great plan?”

The tone of his voice irks you; he had no faith in the plan you had yet to fully explain. “Yes, set a trap of our own.”

Your husband finally speaks, and even with rage building inside him, Jace’s eyes soften when he looks at you. “We mustn’t forget that Sunfyre is one of the dragons that killed Meleys.”

“I haven’t forgotten what they did to Meleys or our grandmother,” you swallow hard. “Which is why I can’t do it alone. I will fly to Dragonstone and taunt Aegon into chasing me on Sunfyre while the second rider is high enough that he won’t see them coming. It will take two of us to end this and prevent further bloodshed.”

The room falls silent, and nobody speaks for a beat. Jacaerys clears his throat. “Vermax is smaller and quicker than Viserion; I will go and lure Aegon out. Besides, it's me he sent the raven to; Aegon might suspect a trap if a different dragon goes.”

“I will join you in the sky, princess,” Baela says. “Our three dragons may be smaller than Sunfyre, but with three against one, the odds are in our favor.”

“Both Syrax and Caraxes are bigger than—”

“Mother no! You cannot go.”

“What would you have me do, Lyarra? Hide in my castle while my children go into battle? Do not ask me to cower here while you risk your life.”

“Your grace, at least one dragon rider should remain in the keep. If you all go, it might give any green supports that are hiding in the shadows a chance to attack,” Rhaena says before looking at Daemon. “You should go as well, father; Caraxes is the only dragon with real experience in battle. And the greens may have ships with ballistas among them, as they did here in King's Landing.”

He smiles proudly, then nods. “We should prepare ourselves for battle then. It’s important we fly while it’s still daylight.”

—

Jacaerys watches as one of your handmaidens makes sure your braids are tight enough that none of your hair falls into your face. Unlike your husband and stepfather, neither you nor Baela had armour, and with very little time to prepare, it was a scramble to find the two breastplates, which were much heavier than you anticipated. The weight pressing down on your shoulders was borderline painful.

In the reflection of your vanity, you notice Jace bouncing his knee quickly and that his neck is becoming red. “Are you okay, my prince?”

He lets out a small sigh. “I need a moment alone to speak with the princess.”

The sight of his glossy eyes made you want to hold him and promise everything would be okay, but you couldn’t. When the room is empty, he comes over to you and cups the side of your face. “If things don’t go the way we want, a sacrifice may need to be made. The thought of you flying beside me in battle terrifies me, but the thought of our children growing up without you is unbearable. I’m only saying this because I need you to know how much I love you, Lyarra.”

“I’ll never leave you, Jace. Not on the ground, and not in the sky.”

His voice cracks: “It’s my fault Luke died, and I won’t allow you to die like him.”

“Dying won’t bring him back,” you say, pushing at his chest slightly. “The absence of you in my life would kill me. Iksā se jorrāelagon hen ñuha ābrar.”

Jacaerys pulls you into his embrace and mumbles how much he loves you multiple times. Looking up, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I just need to do something first, then I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

—

“Rhaena.”

“Lyarra,” she says, placing a purple dragon egg into the small black brazier. “I’m just waiting on Baela.”

“I know; I was just wondering if I may have a word in private.”

She looks concerned at you and sits on one of her chairs, motioning for you to join her. “What is it you want to discuss? I can only imagine how urgent it must be.”

“I definitely don’t have time management skills,” you say lightheartedly. “I’ve come to you because you’re one of the most kindhearted people I know. If the worst happens and me and Jacaerys don’t return, can you make sure my children don’t forget how much we love them, and Aemma never forgets that Jace thought of her as his own. She needs to remember that.”

“Of course,” she says, squeezing your hand. “But I believe the gods will be merciful, and all four of you will return.”

“There’s one more thing I need to ask of you, regarding Princess Jaehaera and Prince Maelor.”

“Oh?”

“Never let them forget how truly special Helaena was. She was so innocent and kindhearted.”

Just like Rhaena.

“I will make sure they remember.”

—

Teary-eyed, your mother hugs each of you goodbye in the dragonpit. It hurt to see the fear in her eyes. She had already lost so much for a throne and war she never asked for.

Your younger brother runs towards Jacaerys, who is preparing to mount his dragon. “I want to fight with you; I can help you protect our mother.”

You feel emotional watching Jace pick Joffrey up to hug him; he kisses the side of your younger boy's head and says, “You need to stay here and help keep mother safe on the ground, along with protecting lAegon and Viserys and the remaining dragons.”

Joffrey was so young and sweet, yet all he wanted to do was protect his family. “Oh gods,” your mother says, wrapping her arm around you. “Be safe, my girl.”

“I will return soon, my queen, and when I do, more justice will be served. I love you, mother.”

—

It seems the gods were meddling in the war between kin; no man or woman is as accursed as the kinslayer, and the gods were doing everything to delay the inevitable. Even though it was still daytime, the sun was hidden behind thick, dark clouds, and the heavy rain and hail that fell from them were obscuring your vision. You could hear the flapping of wings and dragon roars all around you, but you’d lost sight of everyone else.

Frightened by a strike of lightning being so close, Viserion roars loudly, “umbagon gīda, Viserion.”

Suddenly, you break through the clouds. The rain was still pelting against your skin, but you could see clearly now. In the distance, Caraxes was burning ships, and Moondancer was flying over to join the blood Wyrm, but Jace and Vermax were out of sight.

“Dracarys Sunfyre!”

You’re blinded by a blast of Sunfyre’s golden flames and begin to spin in the air when the two dragons latch onto each other. Viserion manages to rake the dragon’s side and wriggle out of its grip.

Hearing a dragon squealing in pain, you look towards the ships again and see a pale green figure plummeting towards the sea.

“Baela!”

Aegon takes advantage of your being distracted and blasts you and Viserion in flames again. Thick smoke catches in your throat. Over the sound of your dragon crying in pain and the wind whistling, you hear Aegon chuckling to himself. He yells, “Once I’m done killing your pup, I’m coming back for you!”

When the smoke clears, you’re horrified to see Sunfyre’s claws digging into Vermax’s stomach. Jace was ordering his dragon to attack, but it’s not until they begin twirling that you notice the tip of Vermax’s tail is gone and bleeding heavily. Viserion bites the golden dragon's stomach long enough for it to let go of Vermax. The three dragons snap and claw at each other.

Jace screams as loud as he can, “Jikagon syt se tīkuni!”

For a split second, you locked eyes with Aegon; he was confused. Thankfully, his high Valyrian skills were lacking, so it gave you and Jacaerys the ability to surprise him with your next move. Both of you momentarily retreat, both ordering your dragons in unison to attack in your other tongue. Vermax's jaws close around Sunfyre’s left wing, and Viserion punctures Sunfyre’s right wing with his claws.

“Dracarys!”

You're blasted in flames for a third time, except now that you are closer, it hits you and Viserion harder. The smell of burning flesh reaches your nostrils before the burning sensation starts in your hand, causing you to scream in agony. If this didn’t end soon, your precious Viserion would die, and the both of you would go down, dragging Sunfyre and Aegon with you.

“Jacaerys go!”

He shouts something back high Valyrian but you can’t make it out. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something moving quickly before it disappears. Seconds later, another dragon crashes into Sunfyre, forcing Vermax to let go. Viserion squeals again and starts to lean to the side. You pull your harness strap even tighter.

Syrax clutches Sunfyre’s neck between her jaws, and as the golden dragon takes its last breaths, you see Aegon pulling the Valyrian steel dagger that once belonged to your grandsire from his belt, his murderous gaze in the direction of your mother.

“Dracarys!”

Tears roll down your cheeks hearing Aegon scream. You never wanted this. If only he had fled to Sunfyre instead of

Syrax lets go, and both the dragon and rider crash into the waves below.

Everything is a blur of fire and blood before Viserion crashes onto the shore below.

—

Viserion lets out a low grumble when you kneel on the damp sand and stick your arm into the water, attempting to clean the burn on your right hand. He could sense your physical pain and emotional distress. Caraxes was the only other dragon you had seen since the dragons stopped fighting. He was headed in the direction of Kings- Landing, but you had yet to see Vermax, Syrax, or Moondancer.

You press your free hand to your forehead and feel a liquid warmer than it should be. Blood. You must have hit your head when you fell, unstrapping yourself. The bleeding would explain the pounding in your head. The dampness of your dress makes it feel much heavier, so you sit back on your heels. Nightfall was coming quickly, and the small folk who witnessed the fight would soon gather on the beaches to see what remained.

Viserion suddenly snarls.

The pale pink flesh of Sunfyre’s wing stuck between your dragon's claws. You had tried to remove it, but Viserion was too tender and snapped whenever you touched it. “I’m sorry; I should never have put you in harm's way.”

Viserion leans forward and allows you to rub his nose.

—

Holding out your arms, tears of happiness fall from your eyes as the midwife places your newborn babe into your arms. She was tiny and perfect. One of the handmaidens comes over with a cloth, but you shake your head and smile, “I’ll do it.”

Taking the lukewarm cloth, you clean your daughter's face and body, making sure to dip the cloth into the bowl of water Clara holds for you so the fabric doesn’t become dry and rough.

“She is a beautiful princess.”

“That she is. Can you send for prince Jacaerys?”

“Right away, princess.”

Jacaerys had waited in the room with you, but with Aemma fussing and screaming because she couldn’t understand why she wasn't allowed in, you told Jace to go and comfort her. The babe scrunches her face up, and you unlace the top of your nightgown with one hand and pull it down. You place the babe against your bare chest, and she finds your breast and starts feeding.

When the door opens, you’re greeted by Jace, who looks completely mesmerized, and Aemma, who is holding his hand and trying to stand high enough to see over the bed. He picks her up and asks, "are we going to meet your new sibling?”

She nods excitedly.

���It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he repeats, tears brimming in his eyes. “Let’s go meet your little sister, Aemma.” When they reach the bed, he kisses the side of her head and then places her on the bed. “Remember to be gentle with your mummy and the babe.”

Since you were in the middle of the bed, Aemma cuddled up on one side of you, and Jacaerys came around and sat on the opposite side. He cups your cheek and says, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Do you want to hold her once she’s finished feeding?”

Jace looks confused that you even asked, but he knew it wasn’t personal. He knew a few good years of a healthy marriage couldn’t undo all the trauma and neglect you’d suffered at the hands of Aegon; it would just take time. “Of course, especially since mother and Luke will be desperate for a cuddle.”

“Kepa, what’s the baby’s name?”

Jace smiles softly. “We decided to wait until we knew if it was a boy or girl before picking.”

“I thought of one, Rhaenys. Our grandmother has lost so much and has always been so strong… but if you don’t like it—”

“I love it,” Jace puts his arm around your shoulder, and the warmth you feel radiating from him feels as if it’s healing whatever the greens broke inside you. “My little Reni is another daughter to dote on. She’s perfect; all three of you are.”

“Princess? Princess! Prince Jacaerys, I’ve found her!”

When your tired eyes flutter open and you see a figure coming towards you, it takes a few seconds for your eyesight to come into focus, and you can recognise the person as Ser Erryk. The feeling of warmth you felt while dreaming was Viserion wrapping his wing around you, shielding you from the wind and rain as you leaned against his body. Your stubborn dragon had refused to fly back to the dragonpit, so you remained by his side.

Viserion roars when the knight approaches and prevents him from getting any closer. You rub at your dragon's side gently and hum, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Lyarra! Lyarra!”

Being so familiar with Jace Viserion that he only lets out a low grumble when he approaches slowly, he knew not to startle a wounded dragon. You get to your feet and sway slightly. “Jace, my love, you're safe.”

“I thought I’d lost you. Ser Erryk, inform the queen princess Lyarra has been found. I’m taking her to a carriage; she needs to see a maester right away.”

—

When you feel something brushing across your forehead, you automatically raise your hand and snatch it. When your eyes open, you immediately let go. “Forgive me, Elinda. I…” You take in your surroundings; in the confusion of waking up, you’d forgotten you’d returned to the red keep the night before. “I was unsure of where I was.”

She gives you a sympathetic look and speaks in a hushed voice, “It’s okay, princess; you’ve been through a lot. I was attempting to wipe the dried blood off your head without waking you.”

“Where is my mother?”

“Her grace is watching over the young prince’s in the queen's quarters. Would you like me to tell her you’re awake?”

“Yes, thank you.”

With Elinda no longer standing in front of you, you see Jace sleeping in one of the chairs facing the bed. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, but he didn’t appear to have any serious injuries. Swinging your legs out of bed, you put pressure on your burned hand and whine, waking him.

“Lyarra.” Jace rushes over to you and presses his lips against yours. “I’m so sorry I could pro—”

“Don’t, I don’t want to hear it; you are the reason I’m still here,” you say softly. “We are all alive, and that’s all that matters. How is Baela?”

“Heartbroken, the dragon keepers on Dragonstone don’t think Moondancer will recover from her injuries. I’m just thankful Baela was able to jump into the water before hitting the ground.”

A crossbow pierced Moondancer’s wing, causing the dragon and rider to fall from the sky. The men on the ships started firing at Baela when she tried to swim ashore, but Daemon burned them all. “And you? Your eye has swollen since last night.”

“It doesn’t hurt, and I’m more concerned about you.” He looks down at your hand, which is now wrapped in white bandages. “Sunfyre came out of nowhere, and Vermax flew down low to escape him after his tail was bitten. When we came back up, the first thing I saw was you being burned.”

“Tis only my hand; besides, I needed a war wound. I could not simply be outdone by my husband having a battle scar, and I don’t.”

Jace laughs and kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose.

“I can’t believe I told mother to stay thinking I was protecting her, and in the end, it was her that saved us. Any word on how Viserion is?”

“With the help of Daemon, the dragon keeper eventually managed to remove the wings from his claws, but they needed to remove one of the nails so Viserion will need plenty of time to rest.”

“And Vermax?”

A smile tugs on his lips. “Even more ill-tempered, but they assure me he’ll heal.”

“I’m glad. We ought to send a raven to Cregan expressing our gratitude and letting him know we will be coming for our children.”

“I’ve already sent a raven letting him know the war is over, so the Northerners no longer need to march south, and I’ve said Clara is to return with our children. The maester said you can’t travel with stitches on your head.”

Resting your forehead against his chest, you mumble, and tears of happiness start to roll down your cheeks, knowing your family would be together again soon. “I know we’ve just been through a lot, but I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, my love.”

“Sentence Larys Strong to death.”

—

“You stand accused of murder. You stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges?”

Standing in the middle of the dragonpit, Larys looks unfazed; he simply shrugs. Perhaps he no longer cares since he knows his fate is doomed. A tiny part of you was fearful his death would set something he had prearranged in motion. But he needed to answer for his crimes.

Jace tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword. “In the name of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name, queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I hereby sentence you to death on the charges of being a traitor to House Targaryen and for the murder of Lord Lyonel Strong and Ser Harwin Strong.”

Vermax walks out of the shadows of the dragon pit and looms over Larys.

“Dracarys.”

You glance at your mother and see the grief on her face. This wouldn’t bring Harwin back, but you hoped the truth being known would help her, Jacaerys, and Joffrey have closure one day. There had been rumors for years that the clubfoot was involved in the deaths of his own father and brother, but it wasn’t until you sentenced Otto to death and saw the look in his Larys eyes that you knew it was true.

—

A small feast was held in honor of the rightful heir finally sitting on the throne with the council members who supported your mother's claim in attendance, but as the hall started to thin out, you wanted to go to bed, but you didn’t want to ruin Jacaerys night; even if you left alone, he would follow you. Glancing in his direction, you smiled. Jace was speaking with your grandsire while holding Joffrey, who had fallen asleep.

Daemon sits down, fills half a cup of wine, and pushes it in front of you. “Bloodshed is not an easy thing to digest. You can speak freely with me.”

“I’m glad they died together.”

“You and the queen took two enemies out at once.”

“They say when we die, our dragons mourn us, but they can bond with another rider. That wouldn’t have happened with Sunfyre.” You take two large gulps of wine, finish the cup, and wipe the residue off with the back of your hand. “Sailors would sing songs about a dragon with golden scales that glisten in the sunlight that would haunt the shores of Dragonstone; they would claim to still hear its cries while it searched for its rider.”

“The dragons have no control over what side they are on, but the usurper was a cunt long before he stole your mother's throne.”

“I know what he is—was, but hearing songs being sung about his death by drunken fools doesn’t feel right. It’s exactly what they did when Lucerys died.”

He strokes your cheek, “and one day they will move on and find another death to sing about.”

Daemon kisses the back of your head before going to join your mother, who is waving him over. It was the first time in a long time that she seemed genuinely happy.

“Not a fan of the wine princess?”

“No, it’s revolting.” Wine was something you never drank unless it was watered down. You smile when Jace sits down beside you; it was only you and him now sitting at the Queen’s high table. “Where has Joffrey gone?”

“Elinda has taken the little prince to his chambers.” He glances around the room and quietly says, “It almost feels surreal, doesn’t it? Everything that has happened.”

You rub small circles on the back of Jacaerys hand with your thumb. “What do we do now, my prince?”

“We wait for our children to come home.”

Iksa se jorrâelagon hen nuha abrar — you are the love of my life

Umbagon gida — stay calm

Jikagon st se tikuni — go for the wings

[sunfyre-targaryen]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON S2E8

i finally managed to rewatch the episode and here is again my personal opinion about it.

essos: again they want the stepstones, those damned rocks. the stepstones are like the harrenhal of the sea: everybody wants it, but nobody manages to keep it for a long time without dying painfully.

sharako lohar is really cool. kinda looks like daario naharis (the first one).

aemond burning sharp point because he was angry about rhaenyra's new dragonriders. sir, you have too many problems.

my poor king aegon. he asking himself what was the point of all of this now that rhaenyra managed to have more dragons to her side. and larys wanting to help him is kinda heartwarming but also creepy as fuck at the same time.

rhaena starving and dehydrating herself for a dragon instead of taking care of the future of house targaryen. as i said previously, this obsession reminds me of little aemond (before he became a completely menace to society).

jace beefing with ulf. he is angry with the dragonseeds and he wants to prove them that they are not like every trueborn targaryens. well, ulf jests too much about it in my opinion. seeing hugh and ulf going out of the room together, foreshadowing iykyk.

rhaenyra and corlys. he sees what she cannot, just like rhaenys, he's a good hand of the queen. when they mentioned dreamfyre, my heart melts because she's one of my favourite dragons. finally, corlys saying that his ship's name is "the queen who never was" and then we see the boleyn which pictures rhaenys holding the crown...such an heartbreaking moment.

daemon and ser alfred. daemon has already decided to let the crown go and follow rhaenyra as we understand it from his last vision when he didn't take the crown from his brother. i adored how he looks at ser alfred since we all know how he hates traitors and the details of ser alfred hearing "traitor" whispered was perfect. let us all appreciate again ser simon "no treason on my watch" strong.

alicent and helaena. it's heartbreaking. she really loves her daughter and now that alicent does not have power anymore, she fears for her life. i loved the scenes we had between alicent and helaena a lot.

AEMOND HOW FUCKING DARE YOU. your sister is an innocent and plus she is still the queen, as your mother kindly reminded you. i have to say, dear alicent, that you should have behaved like this with him before he became a fucking problem to everyone. i loved that when he looks again at helaena, alicent raises her voice to him "NOT LIKE THIS"

ser criston cole, i despise alicent for saving your life that night. "she is my beacon", it reminds of the hightower's sigil, i adore this detail. i fucking love gwayne. "then resist it", ser gwayne slaytower, the man you are. last but not least, dear ser crispy you should have imagined that a war with dragons would have been a thousand times worse than the wars you saw in your life.

jacaerys targaryen, the pout of the realm. btw, baela and jace the supreme couple of westeros.

rhaenyra at dinner with the dragonseeds. addam answering to ulf that there will be a time to show who of them is really a coward (iykyk). addam of hull, the man you are. i adored the fact that rhaenyra chooses him to go with her to harrenhal.

daemon's vision. i adored it. bloodraven, the white walkers, the death of dragons and daemon's death which also represent the loss of power of house targaryen and then the red comet and daenerys, the rebirth of house targaryen. AND HELAENA.

i hope that in season 3 we'll have a further explanation of helaena's powers and what she can do, because in that scene it's clear that she entered the vision somehow. infact, we also see her kinda smiling after it. (again, foreshadowing: she's standing on a balcony, iykyk).

helaena and aemond. he still tries to convince her to go to war with dreamfyre. she answering back at him that she knows everything and that she saw everything, she does not speak in riddles anymore, she's clear as fuck, and those words hurt aemond like a knife. "aegon will be king again. he's yet to see victory [...] and you'll be dead". and when he threatens her, she says that it wouldn't change anything. he is scared now, he knows how it will end and everything he has done for glory will only bring him into the void.

rhaenyra and daemon at harrenhal. i'm glad to hear them speak in high valyrian to each other once again, kinda missed it. daemon's speech was just amazing and pure perfection.

alyn is angry as fuck and he has all the rights to be it. when he said to corlys that he remembers them now only after the death of his children was like a slap in the face for corlys. the best part was alyn saying that if he survives this war, he will continue to live his life as it was before.

mysaria and rhaenyra. "and who pays the price?" and mysaria looking at the dragons.

alicent and rhaenyra. probably my favourite scene. alicent wearing a light blue dress as she used to do when she and rhaenyra were close friends. we can see that now they inverted their roles: alicent who tries to get close to rhaenyra while rhaenyra is cold towards her, as it was after alicent wore the green dress the first time. another detail that i appreciated is when alicent says "i lost my way", another reminder to her house since their motto is "we light the way", now she is lost and alone, she feels like a nobody, she cannot count on her house and family anymore. when rhaenyra says "still, you defend him" OF COURSE SHE IS, despite everything aegon is her son, her first son. THIS IS NOT BOOK ALICENT, as i said previously, i understand this development but i would have liked to see a bit more of book alicent. rhaenyra: "a son for son", what about what helaena have endured? did we forget about jaehaerys?. rhaenyra: "history will paint you a villan. cold queen [...]", alicent: "let them think what they must. i have at last myself [...]", i loved this. they still love and care for each other somehow, when alicent asked rhaenyra to go with her it reminded me of young rhaenyra telling young alicent that she wanted to fly with her on dragonback, see the great wonders across the narrow sea and eat only cake.

seeing everybody getting ready for what they must do kinda makes me feel anxious for season 3 even if i know what happens.

TESSARION. GLAD TO SEE YOU, MY DEAR.

i am not ready for the battle of the gullet and for tumbleton. but at the same time i cannot wait to see the battle above the gods' eye.

finally rhaena found sheepstealer.

otto in a cage, this is larys' hand FOR SURE.

aegon fleeing from KL. cannot wait to see him in season 3. he's yet to see victory.

THE FINAL SOUNDTRACK ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING.

the end: alicent is free. rhaenyra holds all the weight of history on her shoulders.

now we have to wait two years for the most brutal part of the story.

if you want to share your thoughts or talk about it, send a raven! 💌

[mejcinta]

If you had the chance to change something about the dance of the dragons (TV show or book), what would it be? For example, how a character dies, which team a house is on,or an entire character personally. How would you change it to make the story better, in your opinion?♥️🖤💙💚

House Velaryon would be split 50/50, with Vaemond's family joining the Greens in hopes of restoring Driftmark to people with trueborn Velaryon heirs.

The Vale would be split as well, and Jeyne Arryn would have to bargain with the Royces of Runestone (Rhea's people) to support Rhaenyra. Actually I'd make it that clashes break out in the Vale. Despite of the arrival of Joffrey and little Aegon's dragons, Rhaena would try to quell the Royces doubts with diplomatic talks, giving her more to do, and introducing her to her first husband Corywn Corbray in the process.

Instead of having Garmund Hightower sent away to be squire I'd have him remain in Oldtown, participating in politics as the Dance takes a toll on his father Ormund and his brothers. I'd actually do an Oldtown subplot in the show showing us the politically adept man that Rhaena marries in the future, quelling tensions at a time of instability and House Targaryen's dwindling power.

Helaena would participate more in government just as she was hinted to do in the books. I'd show why she was Beloved of Smallfolk and have her fly Dreamfyre more often, as well as make her more active in her relationships with her family members. She and Aegon would have a marriage of constant trials, she would give advice to her brothers and be a companion to Alicent constantly, accompanying her in the halls and encouraging her often when she's down. I feel like her bond with Alicent was underrepresented in the show.

I would highlight Aegon's night life, show his understanding of the outside world from which his family is sheltered behind the walls of the Keep. This would be good build up for when his Dragonstone arc is portrayed. We need to understand how he easily seduced the population of Dragonstone into turning against Rhaenyra.

I'd expand Alys' arc by building a connection between her and Larys. This would make her relationship with Aemond complex and would get you questioning her motives and loyalty. In the end she chooses Aemond out of sincerity, while Larys focuses on Aegon as his more malleable chess piece.

Alicent and Criston would have a romantic entanglement, but only after Viserys' death and Helaena becomes the new queen. This would make his death on his way back to her more tragic and darken Alicent's heart towards Rhaenyra.

Daeron would be present for Jaehaerys' funeral. Aegon would summon him as King, despite of Alicent's concerns that he's better off protected in Oldtown. After Aemond becomes Regent he sends Daeron to tackle the rising rebellions in the Reach against Aegon.

Vaemond's family strike an uneasy alliance with Alyn and Corlys after the war. In return Vaemond's son demands his daughter Daenaera be given to Aegon iii as wife. Rhaena oversees this sensitive negotiations and manages to strike a deal in the end.

Aemond would refuse to leave Harrenhal when Criston asks him to, because Alys was pregnant (he doesn't tell Criston this) and he fears for her safety should his family learn of her. At this time, Borros could still be looking to betroth Aemond to his daughter Floris as a strict condition for him to add to the Greens army. Aemond perceives this, and declines to go immediately to retake King's Landing. He wants to plan first before making a jump (the Alys bewitching him to abandon his family thing is too juvenile for me).

[two-white-butterflies]

already broken | aem. targaryen

Description: Aemond is troubled after the loss of his family. In which, you offer your company and end up falling in love with him.

Warning: Teen

Author's Note: Totally a parallel to Thomas Shelby because I love that man. If you love this fic, feel free to visit the main fic. This fic contains spoilers for cyip. coaxed you into paradise v2.

Aemond could never forget the look on his wife's face the day that her body was discovered. Pale skin with even paler lips. Body half rotten by the sea - and eyes that would never open again. Princess Alyssa Strong was dead, and her mother cried for atonement.

"You rarely speak nowadays, my prince." you opened your mouth to speak while folding his linen coverings. You've been his handmaiden since his childhood years - a friendship was beginning to form between the both of you - that was before Alyssa.

A putrid girl with an ill face.

She inherited her mother's petulance and jealousy. She could hardly stand any young maiden around her husband - always protective of what was hers. "There's not much to speak about." he turned to look at you, seeing those doe eyes engulf his whole being.

"Mayhaps spending time with the Queen will do you good, my lord." you tried to assure, seeing nothing but sorrow behind his purple eye. Blood and Cheese may have chosen to steal his son - but Aemond was the one truly murdered. Within a single turn of the moon, his life was ruined - his reputation scorned.

He did not reply after that.

He took a sip of his tea - and went straight to bed.

The following day - while you were walking along Kingslanding's crypts. You were able to see a ghost of the One Eyed Prince. His hands were behind his back, staring at the statue - seemingly looking for his son's eyes behind them.

"My prince," you bowed seeing that he noticed your presence.

"My lady, come sit with me." he patted the empty space beside him. He rarely tolerated the presence of his own family. It was a surprise to see him welcome you with open arms.

You did not argue with him. You gathered your gowns and sat beside him - as the youngest daughter of a minor house, you were taught to obey your superiors - to give the royals what they demanded.

"It's been months since the light of Prince Aelor has shone on the red keep." you kept the conversation light, opting to praise his deceased son instead of pondering on what could've happened. "It is the price of war, my lady." he responded cordially.

The hole in his heart yet to mend.

"King Aegon will surely bring the executors to justice." your eyebrows merged into each other, fearing war. The soldiers may boast their glory but women feared war - god knows what happens to little girls in the middle of warfare. Nothing good.

Reduced to nothing but a spoil of war.

"We brought it upon ourselves. The war shouldn't have been started. Rhaenyra is the rightful Queen, but it does not matter. Aegon the Conqueror was not the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms." he breathed, and you turned to look behind you - ensuring that no one was able to listen in your conversation.

"You will let the murderers stay free?" you inquired.

"For now." he responded.

"Blood and Cheese were sent by Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen." you opened your mouth to speak. A letter was in your hands - a letter that came from Rhaena Targaryen - suing for justice over her half-sister.

Aemond could feel his entire world collapse. The same people that vowed to protect his wife and son were the ones that aided and abetted to their murders. "How does Lady Rhaena know this?" his eye narrowed, trying to understand why Rhaena (of all people) wanted to tell the absolute truth.

"She says; and I quote: the truth has been haunting me. Not even my father knows and I fear of what he'll do when he does. I heard the Queen talk a few fortnights ago, but I never believed that her target would be Alyssa." you read the letter, carefully searching for signs of disproval in his body.

Then suddenly, without any reluctance - he throws the glass of wine on his hand angrily. Allowing it to shatter into a million pieces. He mellowed in his grief - allowed himself to be weak - but now that the executioners were placed on the block, he wanted to swing his sword. Rhaenyra might've been the rightful Queen - and his brother may have usurped her - but it wouldn't save her against his fury.

"Leave me." he says in a calm tone.

Allowing his anger to grow by a thousandfold.

Aemond agreed to meet Saera in the fields of Harrenhal. Provided that none of them attack each other. "I did not expect for you to surrender, brother." her voice came out like a whisper.

Of all the times that his sister spent in the red-keep, he'd always remember her melodious voice - her soft pale skin and the red-black fabric that she'd always wear in council meetings. The sister in front of him was different. Colder - a stranger.

"I'm not here to surrender, sister." he responded in a tone that made sister sound like bitch or cunt. "Haven't you already done enough? You've taken my daughter and my grandson." her eyes narrowed, her loyal husband beside her and playing with his Dark Sister.

"I've not taken her - I only came here to tell you the truth." he scoffed, sensing that he wouldn't come out of his battle unscathed if he wasted any of their time. "What truth?" Daemon inquired.

"Of Aelor's murderer." Aemond announced in a bitter tone. This betrayal would cut deeper than any wound in Saera's body. "The Queen that you chafe your knees to, is she as innocent as she seems?" he responded vaguely, feeling Vhagar roar behind him.

"What is your proof, brother?" Saera's voice mellowed. Rhaenyra was the thickest of her blood. Both Aemma and Viserys combined. "Ask Rhaena," he turned to look at Daemon - before boarding Vhagar and leaving the sacred kingdom.

When Aemond arrived in the Dragonpit - you were the first to greet him. His only friend in Kingslanding. The handmaiden that has helped him all these years. "How did she react?" you asked, knowing that Saera could be dangerous when angry.

He ignores your question again - taking a step forward and allowing his fury to communicate words that could not be said. "Is she angry?" you added - and his pupils dilated.

He had angry eyes.

"My prince, I apologize if I overstep -"

"Draw me a bath." he commanded, before walking past you.

It was tiresome attempting to get into the good graces of Aemond Targaryen - but you reassured yourself. It was the only way that you'd stay safe in the Capital - seeing that your father aligned himself with Rhaenyra and her white hand.

Another sigh escaped your mouth; and you settle the lavender petals on the Prince's bath. Despite having rough hands, he enjoyed things that were of feminine tastes. "The bath is ready, my prince." you kept your eyes on the floor. "Stay with me." he said with reluctance.

And that was the moment that you fell into a deep - deep emotion with him. You could remember everything vividly - you leaned into his bath, combing through his matted locks - until your lips were planted on each other - mumbling curses and apologies.

"This will break you, my prince." you pulled away from his soft lips, and he gives you a smile (that best resembles a grimace, because everyone knows that he's lost the ability to smile again.)

"Already broken, my lady."

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[aphrodisiac-siren]

Dynasty Of Flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon’s firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth. 

Aemond being completely oblivious about his own feelings. Y/N being the pride of her father Daemon <3

Warnings: Incest (duh), violence, blood/gore, swearing.

Part 1, part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Part 5

As the small crowd of nobles present at court gathered in the throne room, both sides of the royal family too made themselves present.

Aemond was timely as always, accompanied by his mother and his grandfather who served as hand of the king. Rhaenyra and Daemon were already present with Jace and a very nervous Luke. Helaena arrived a few moments later, arm linked with Y/N's. Aegon too walked in right after them.

Alicent smiled at the young princess when their eyes met. She watched as Y/N exchanged warm smiles with both Helaena and Aegon before she went to stand with her own family without bothering to so much as look at Aemond. She turned and saw that even Aemond refused to look at her.

Odd.

"Did something happen between Y/n and Aemond?" Alicent leaned in and whispered to Helaena. The both of them had been close in spite being apart for years and now upon her return, they seemed so distant.

"They had a bit of an argument last night, from what Y/N told" Helaena answered "but I do not know regarding what, she refused to speak much about it"

"I see" the queen nodded. She would need to talk to Aemond about this. With the arrival of Rhaenyra to court, Alicent had hoped to propose a match between Aemond and Y/N, to ensure the safety of her sons lives once Rhaenyrs stepped into power. She hadn’t discussed this with anyone yet apart from her father and husband, the king who seemed rather pleased with the idea.

With the King amiss, it was his hand, Otto, who was going to make the choice of who would inherit the Driftmark throne.

Rhaenyra along with Daemon, the boys and Y/N stood toward the left side from where Otto sat upon the throne while Alicent along with her children and Vaemond stood at the right.

Princess Rhaenys was standing exactly opposite the throne with Baela and Rhaena alongside her.

So far it seemed that the court was in favour of Vaemond and Luke was growing rather nervous about the whole situation. It just seemed so, one-sided.

He knew that denying his claim to the throne at Driftmark only weakened her mother's claim to the iron throne.

Vaemond spoke to all gathered of how he was of the same blood as Corlys, loosely implying that Rhaenyra's sons weren't. He went on about his argument until it was time for Rhaenyra to speak.

"If I am to grace this farce" she sighed, quiet obviously rather annoyed that this was even an issue when Luke was already named heir "I should like to start by reminding you all-"

The large doors of the court room were pushed open, the loud noise interrupting the princess as one of the guards announced the arrival of king Viserys.

The arrival of the King brought two starkly different reactions from his kin.

On one side, a sense of relief washed over. Y/N breathed out- content, knowing that all was not lost. She could see her mother's eyes widen with hope, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips.

Meanwhile on her side of the room she'd noticed the utter disappointment and sudden concern that had begon to grow.

Aegon held back a sneer. He'd never hated his nephews. In fact, he got along with them far better than Aemond did. No, the thing that put him in a bad mood was his father practically getting up from his death bed to rush to the aid and defence of his daughter, again.

Where was this side of him when Aegon needed it?

"Father is here, yet again to defend his only child" Aegon scoffed under his breath to Aemond.

Where was this compassion when his brother had his eye taken from him?

There was no denying that he indeed neglected his fatherly duties toward them.

"I will sit the throne today" Viserys managed to find the strength to announce.

This was the first time, in perhaps years, Aemond had seen his father walk by himself though 'walking' was hardly the word for it. 'Hobbling' seemed more befitting. And it pained him that his father never made such efforts for him or his siblings even when he was well.

There was a mask of gold hiding half of his face, that Rhaenyra had not seen him without ever since her arrival to court.

The King continued his slow advance to the throne, momentarily halting when he'd reached the few steps to catch his breath and paused to wheeze. His skin was sickly pale, almost as if he was a walking corpse.

Daemon left his wife's side to rush to his brother's aid. A king's guard too, took a step to assist the King.

"I am fine" he waved the guard off just as his crown fell to the ground with a clatter. Daemon was the one to retrieve it.

"I said I'm fine" he repeated, thinking it was the guard yet again until he heard his brother speak.

"Come on" he encouraged.

Lord Hightower went to his daughter's side as Daemon held the king's arm to help him to the throne. Once he was sat, he placed the crown back on his head before making his way back to Rhaenyra.

"I must.. admit.. my confusion" the king panted "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession"

The King scanned the faces of his family that were both split and standing on two sides of the room.

"The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys" he turned to his cousin.

The older woman smiled at his acknowledgement.

"Indeed, Your Grace" she took a step forward, appreciative of her cousin wishing to hear her, something the others didn't bother to do "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him"

"As a matter of fact" She continued "the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena, a proposal to which I heartily agree"

The twins exchanged smiles with the boys upon hearing this. Of course they would be joyous, Jace and Luke were fine young gentlemen who any woman would be lucky to be married to.

Y/N smiled too, quiet happy that her darling younger sisters were now betrothed; and to two sweethearts that she knew would treat them well.

The King leaned back slowly "Well, the matter is settled; Again"

Queen Alicent sighed, quite upset at the king for displaying his partiality yet again toward his daughter and her children.

"I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides"

Lucerys at last let out that breath and smiled as he and his family both shared a moment of pure relief. Y/N took his hand in her's offering a gentle squeeze, a gesture that Aemond noticed and subtly scoffed at.

How dare she take that bastard's hand in hers, he thought, the very same hand that took my eye.

Vaemond, who stood to Princess Rhaenys' left, stepped forward as she went back to the twins.

"You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir" he said "Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon? No. I will not allow it"

"Allow it?" the king repeated, almost surprised at the nerve "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond. I am the king and you are no more than the second son"

Something inside Vaemond snapped upon hearing those words. As if he needed to be reminded that whatever it is he was fighting for, was never his to begin with.

"That!" he shouted as his finger was pointed at Luke "Is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine"

"Go to your chambers" Rhaenyra placed her hand on Luke's shoulder as she moved to stand before him protectively whilst she spoke to Vaemond "you have said enough!"

"I would advise you to choose your words carefully" Y/N spoke, gaining the attention of everyone present "prince Lucerys is lord of Driftmark and thus becomes your superior. Do not overstep your boundaries"

Jace smirked; Y/N had taken their side, just as she promised

"With all due respect, I do not need a warning uttered from the lips of a dragonling. Regardless of her title or relation to him" Vaemond pointed at Luke as he smiled at her but there was nothing warm about it. Daemon clenched his jaw as soon as he heard the tone used to address his daughter, who he had indirectly called a child.

"Se istin epagon ao naejot urnēbagon skorkydoso ao ȳdragon naejot bisa 'zaldrīzes-rūs' qilōni ao vestragon naejot nārhēdegon iksis iā dārilaros" Y/N sneered, not taking kindly to even an ounce of that disrespectful tone and Daemon cast a momentary look of pride at her "iksin se va moriot kessa sagon eglikta than ao"

"Furthermore I must urge you to watch how you speak to this 'dragonling' who you seem to forget is a princess. I am, and always will be higher than you in station"

Aemond had his gaze locked on Y/N and he grinned ever so slightly when she put Vaemond in his place. Even Aegon seemed amused.

Y/N felt Luke's hand squeeze her's every so slightly, indicating that he was growing a touch nervous again.

Vaemond did not like the public reminder that he was merely a lord in comparison to her; It stung even more when she pointed it out in their language. With his pride now hurt, the turned to speak to the King.

"You may run your house as you see fit but you will not decide the future of mine" Vaemond spoke aloud so that the entire assembly might hear him "My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides and gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this.."

He paused as his gaze lingered on Rhaenyra.

Prince Daemon watched his face twitch "Say it" he challenged, menacingly.

A deadly silence fell like a blanket over them all before Vaemond's control snapped as he roared

"Her children... are bastards!"

Y/N's eyes widened and her mouth was partially agape at his disrespectful annunciation of her half-brothers' legitimacy. Across the room, even Aegon and Helaena stood shocked and Aemond immediately turned to look at Y/N, as if to say 'don’t say a word, let the king handle this'. Alicent and Otto exchanged nervous glances.

Vaemond was getting a little too bold, even for the liking of the Greens.

"And she" Vaemond then looked at Rhaenyra, dead in the eyes "is a whore"

Gasps arose from the people present, at how freely Vaemond threw insults.

This time, Y/N pushed past Luke, throwing her mannerisms out the window.

"You fucking-" Baela and Rhaena were quick to rush to their sister's side and hold her back, Jace assisting them.

Even the king was just as enraged as she was. His patience had finally faded away.

"I will have your tongue for that!" He drew his dagger, about to do the gruesome task himself.

Vaemond simply smirked in defiance as a momentary sense of satisfaction washed over him.

But he didn't manage to bask in it for long.

Within a matter of a few seconds, Daemon was right behind him with his sword unsheathed. With one swing of the blade, Vaemond's fame crumbled down to the ground; his head served in half right above his upper lip.

Helaena immediately looked away as Aegon's mouth hung open. Even Aemond seemed startled by this act of brutality. Jace protectively pushed the girls behind him, not wanted them to see the gory mess on the floor.

"He can keep his tongue" Daemon sneered as he stood over what remained of the man who dared to insult his family.

After everyone left that chaotic mess of a hearing, Alicent called for Aemond to talk about what had happened between him and Y/N.

"I hear you and princess Y/N got into a bit of an argument" she crossed her arms and for a moment she felt like Aemond was once again nine years of age and she was scolding him for running off into the dragon pits alone "she's only been here a day, I'm surprised after years of being apart you both managed a conflict after being reunited"

"It wasn’t my intention to make her cross with me" Aemond sighed "I said some words that were phrased poorly"

"May I ask what it is you told her?" his mother asked.

"I told her about marriage being a duty, a duty that highborns like ourselves must abide by" Aemond stared off into the distance as he mentally recalled the events of the night before. How she was so happy to meet him in that library even know she knew that he hadn’t planned it. How he tried to assist her with that book she wanted, how in the process of doing so he had entrapped her between himself and the shelves, how his torso was pressed against her- stop "I might’ve told her that it was expected of us to be wed and then I unintentionally made it sound like I was willing to take her as my wife solely out of obligation"

Alicent was quite surprised at his honesty. Aemond was always truthful to her but she was rather taken by surprise when he so casually admitted that he had spoken to Y/N regarding marriage, something that had never been discussed with him nor with Y/N's family.

"Unintentionally, you say" the queen hummed "Would it be safe to assume that if a choice was given to you, you would choose to marry her?"

"I have known Y/N ever since we were able to walk. She is a princess of house Targaryen, a girl closer to the gods than to men" he promptly answered with a firm tone "a person such as herself deserves nothing less than someone who is in equal measure a dragon like herself, someone who will keep the blood of old Valyria pure within the veins of the future generations"

"Aemond I appreciate the deep thought you've given to the succession of the house and the family name but that is not what I asked you" she tenderly spoke, trying to hold back a chuckle at her son's diplomatic response "do you want her? Not as a prince, not as a Targaryen but as a boy who is once again reacquainted with his childhood companion. As someone who cares about her, not the bloodlines of your offspring; someone who will love"

Alicent did not have a happy marriage, this was no secret to her children. And because of how miserable her life was, she did not wish the same to be repeated with her children. She had already tried to 'help' with that when she wedded Aegon and Helaena and it turned out to be quite a fail. So now that her darling boy Aemond was of age, she wanted him to have a happy married life. She knew Y/N ever since she was a babe and the princess was an absolute joy to have around. When the children were younger, it seemed to her that Aemond had fancied her; but over the years, Aemond kept telling her that she was only his friend and nothing more.

Now that Y/N too was of age and would soon look for a suitable partner, she hoped that the both of them would find some sort of spark. Aemond quite obviously liked the idea of wedding her, she just wanted to further ensure he wasn’t saying it simply to fulfil some 'duty'.

Aemond's expression softened.

Did he love her? Perhaps not yet.

Did he fancy her? Eh.

Would he be alright seeing her wed someone else? No.

They had been attached at the hip since childhood. He was hers and she was his. That was how things always were, irrespective of feelings like 'love'.

So, did he want her? Yes.

"I do want her. Besides, love is not really a necessity for a marriage pact" Aemond simply stated, a response to his mother's last statement "Love is the end of duty"

"Well in this case," Alicent smiled "loving her first, is your duty"

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[alaffy]

House of the Dragon, Ep. 2x06 – Smallfolk (spoilers)

Well, this show can’t be any weirder than what’s happening in the real world today.  So, what the hell. 

Well, Daemon still is haunted.  But the lord of the Riverlands is dead and, hey, it sounds like that one chick isn’t a ghost. 

Rhaena is still in Vail, although it seems like she’s about to be kicked out, except there just so happens to be a wild dragon in the area.  Hmmm.

Aemond is going full tyrant mode.  He dismisses Alicent from the Small Council (which I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets rid of them all) and makes it very clear that he sees the army as expendable; this includes Sir Bitch.  He also doesn’t see why he needs to worry about the rumors the Smallfolk are floating around. 

Looks like Rheneyra and the White Worm may become more than allies. 

Aegon is mending, but it will be a long journey and some of his injuries will never fully heal.  This is a perfect opportunity for Lord Lrys (who’s been rejected as the Hand by Aemond); as he can teach him how to use his mind. 

So, there are two very important storylines in this episode.  First, as I mentioned, the White Worms plan to get the Smallfolk of King’s Landing on their side is going very well.  All they had to do was spread rumors that the wealthy were living large while the people starve.  And, of course, when the Smallfolk see large amounts of food going to the castle (which is probably mostly for the Dragons) they believe it to be the case. 

Which leads to part two of the plan.  Overnight, Rehneyra is able to send small boats of food to the shores of King’s Landing.  Of course, to the people, it give a message that she cares for them.  Which she does…but she’s also using them.  The food causes chaos in the streets and in the so happens to happen at the time that Alicent and Helena are at the Sept.  And, for some reason, the King’s Gard sees the trouble happening and decides that this is the perfect time to, you know, try to get the Queen’s back to their carriage instead of just keeping them inside the Sept and blocking the doors.  This leads to more chaos where someone, who was probably trying to help Alicent, has his arm chopped off and one of the Gold Cloaks beaten to death.  This, Aemond, is why you need to keep the small folk happy.

The other big event has two parts to it.  First, Vaemond does decided to become Rheneyra’s Hand.  He also decides to promote Ayran, who is his illegitimate son.  But wait, there’s more.  Ayran has a younger brother, who is also Vaemond’s son.

Second, Rheneyra is trying to see if Jayce’s suggestion works; namely, she is seeing if a dragon will accept a rider outside of the Targaryen bloodline.  It does not go well.  Seasmoke cooks the would be rider and flies off.  To the beach.  Where Seasmoke finds the younger song of Vaemond. 

And, at the end of the episode, Rheneyra is told that Seasnake has been spotted with a rider.  They fear it is someone from house Green.  Rheneyra who’s slowly realizing she can’t just let the men tell her to sit around and do nothing, decides to ride out on her dragon.