#I hate Daemon Targaryen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

j-k-writes · 9 days ago

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The Bronze Targaryen - 9

Summary - When (Y/N) falls injured in a battle with the mountain clans of the Vale, Rhaenyra and Daemon must travel to Kingslanding to protect Luke's claim to Runestone.

Warnings - blood and injury, violence, character death, general HOTD warnings

“I still do not understand why you could not just fly in on Vermithor and burn them out.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, stepping carefully over a tree root, “And burn down the forest as well?”

“It would’ve made this all go a lot faster.”

Gerold chuckled next to him, “Osric, leave him alone.”

“Both of you shut up.” (Y/N) snapped, and the two men beside him quieted. They continued to walk through the forest, careful to avoid any snapping twigs that would give their presence away to the mountain clans no doubt hiding somewhere in the trees.

It had been four moons since he’d seen his family, the most time he’d been away in six years. They’d been fighting back the clans for six moons, (Y/N) only flying out to Runestone two moons into the skirmish at Gerold’s desperate plea. (Y/N) was getting increasingly frustrated with their lack of improvement in the fight against the clans, and if they did not root them out soon he may take Osric up on his idea and simply burn the forest down with Vermithor. Gods know the dragon needed it after four moons of little activity in the Vale.

His thoughts fell back to Rhaenyra, she’d been in her sixth moon of pregnancy by now, and (Y/N) longed to be at her side on Dragonstone. She sent him letters with updates about their sons, and Daemon, but (Y/N) wished to hear her voice and witness their children's achievements with his eyes instead of reading them on a page.

The sound of a twig snapping behind them jolted (Y/N) out of his thoughts. All three of the men tensed, pausing their steps. (Y/N)’s grip on his sword tightened, and he watched as the two men beside him eyed the trees, Osric drawing back his bow string and Gerold lifting his sword up in a defensive position.

Before either of them could react an arrow whizzed through the air, catching Osric in the neck. (Y/N) watched in horror as blood pooled and leaked out of Osric’s throat, dripping down the front of his body, a shocked look crossed the man’s face before he hit the ground. (Y/N) turned to Gerold, opening his mouth but another arrow whizzed out from the trees striking his cousin in the collarbone before he could speak.

(Y/N) turned quickly and ran as a second and third arrow struck Gerold, not turning back to watch as his cousin’s body no doubt hit the forest floor dead. (Y/N) continued running, praying to the old gods that he would manage to make it back to camp before whoever was in the trees caught up with him. He cursed himself silently for only taking Osric and Gerold out on the scouting party, he was confident they wouldn’t run into trouble, the mountain clans had not been sighted anywhere near where the three men were scouting camp.

He heard the arrow before he felt it strike his shoulder, right in between the gap in his leather armor. Despite the flare of pain in his shoulder he kept running, even as a second and then third arrow hit his body, the third lodging itself in his leather armor instead of his skin; and he was grateful that he had brought some armor with him, even if it was leather. As he neared the camp, relief starting to flood his veins, a fourth arrow barely missed his calf as it whizzed by. But the shock of it caused him to stumble nonetheless. His stumble only caused him to pause for a second, but long enough for an arrow to actually lodge itself in his calf and he yelled as he tripped.

He hit his head on a branch as he went down, no doubt once again breaking his nose and probably giving himself a concussion as well. He groaned, pushing himself up and grabbing his sword from where he dropped it. He turned to face the direction the arrows were coming from, and he raised his sword up, cutting down a fifth, sixth, and seventh arrow as they flew at him from behind the trees. As he cut down the seventh arrow, an eighth one came at him from behind, striking him in his other shoulder, and as he turned to face that direction, two more arrows whizzed by, striking him in the stomach and the arm.

The force of the arrow hitting him in the arm caused him to drop his sword, and the stomach wound caused him to double over in pain, knees hitting the ground. As he hit the forest floor the adrenaline started to leave his body, the pain of the multiple arrows littering his body and the head wound making his vision swim. He swayed, falling onto his side, his vision tunneled as men approached him.

They stood over him, and one spoke. “Is he dead?”

“He will be, leave him. I want it to be painful.” Another said, and (Y/N) only had enough time to realize they were speaking the common tongue before he lost consciousness.

The dirt and sweat covering his entire body was not enough to dampen the day's mood. Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs, three this time to Daemon’s delight. The more dragon eggs that came into their possession the better, especially with Rhaenyra and (Y/N) needing an egg to place in a cradle within the next few months. The Dragonkeepers were already waiting for the prince as he climbed the hill, and he passed the saddle bag carrying the eggs off to them.

One of the Dragonkeepers passed him a piece of paper, the grim look on his face giving Daemon pause. He slowly took the parchment, looking down at the unbroken seal of House Royce.

“It is from Maester Pate of Runestone.” The dragonkeeper spoke, and Daemon gently broke the seal reading the words of the letter carefully.

To Prince Daemon and the Princess Rhaenyra,

Prince (Y/N) Royce has fallen grievously injured. He and his scouting party were ambushed not half of a league away from their camp. In the fighting, he took many wounds, most caused by arrows, and was left for dead. The wounds were severe and much blood was lost. But my greater concern is the fever that has followed. He burns from within as if his blood has been replaced with dragon fire. The Prince is strong, but I have seen blood fever take men half his age.

I fear to say this is not the only news that plagues House Royce. Lord Gunthor Royce, the Prince’s cousin, has ridden to Kingslanding, preparing to petition the court for the seat of Runestone if Prince (Y/N) is to succumb to his wounds. We must pray to the Gods that the Prince makes a full recovery, but if Lord Gunthor’s petition is accepted, the damage may be too deep to be undone.

Maester Pate

He read the message three times before the message really sank in, “I must speak with the Princess.”

He found Rhaenyra with Jace and Joffrey in the council room, she looked up as he walked in dismissing the boys and their maester. She was smiling as she took the letter Daemon held out for her, but his posture and expression seemed to give way to the grim news hidden in the parchment as her smile quickly fell upon seeing it.

Daemon watched her carefully as she read the letter. Her eyes watered at the report of her husband’s fate, and Daemon remembered that Rhaenyra had urged him to fly to help with the fighting in the Vale after they had received Gerold’s letter. Her expression quickly turned into one of anger and disbelief as she finished reading the letter.

“He means to call into question Luke’s legitimacy.” She scoffed, “And by extension, Jace, and by extension my own claim to the throne.”

“Gunthor cares only about Runestone, and the Royce line. Not about our politics.” Daemon said, hoping the words would bring his niece comfort. He doubted it as the thought did little to comfort him. “Has he made common cause with Otto Hightower yet?”

“Hm this is what I fear.” Rhaenyra frowned, worrying the paper between her fingers as she thought. “I cannot rely on my father, the vipers rule in his name according to Rhaenys. I should write to her, if nothing else she may be able to provide some advice.”

Daemon nodded, he had heard of Corlys injury and Laenor’s death leaving his daughter and Vaemond the only heirs to Driftmark should Corlys not recover from his injury. Last he heard Rhaenys was petitioning the throne pass to her and then to her granddaughters, Daemon’s daughters, upon her Lord husband's death.

“You are going to Kingslanding then?” Daemon asked, and Rhaenyra gave him a questioning look.

“Are you not?” She asked.

“I am flying to Runestone. I will join you as soon as I can.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, “No. I will accompany you.”

Daemon smiled at her, placing a gentle hand on her stomach. Since she had fallen pregnant (Y/N) had been insisting the child would be a girl, and Daemon could only hope his son would live to see her born, and even longer after that. “No. The boys need you, you must go to Kingslanding and protect Luke’s claim.”

“(Y/N) lays dying-”

“He will understand.” Daemon said. “He does not need you, your sons do.”

The look Rhaenyra gave him showed she did not like his words, but she conceded to them anyway, nodding silently. Daemon softly kissed his niece's forehead, “I will inform him of your desire to come, dear niece. Do not fret; (Y/N) is strong. You and your boys will see him again."

Daemon felt sick at the sight of his son’s bloodied body against pale sheets. He would’ve thought (Y/N) already dead if not for the wheezing of his breath and his chest moving painfully slowly. He carefully approached the bed, brushing his son’s (H/C) curls out of his face. He smoothed the sweaty and tangled mess back before pressing a soft kiss to his boy’s forehead.

His eldest son, his only son.

“Fever cannot take you,” Daemon whispered, taking a seat next to the bed. He clutched (Y/N)’s hand, cringing at the dried blood that littered his skin. There was still dirt and blood under his fingernails from the fight. “You are a dragon. This is not how you die.”

There was no indication that (Y/N) heard him, the milk of the poppy keeping him unconscious. Daemon watched silently as his son breathed in and out, he had broken a rib when he hit the ground, Maester Pate informed him. His son was lucky that he was found by the scouts sent after him after he and his group did not return at the scheduled time. If he had been lying on the forest floor for any longer, he would’ve surely died of his wounds.

Daemon cursed the Gods that let this happen to his son. It was bad enough he’d been dragged from his family to deal with a war that the Valemen should’ve been able to stop in less than a moon, but to try and take (Y/N) from him when he’d only truly had him for six years was something he could not forgive them for.

“Kepa.”

Daemon jolted out of his thoughts at the sound of (Y/N)’s raspy voice. He gently shushed him when it looked like he was going to speak again. “You will be alright, just rest.”

(Y/N) smiled, and Daemon’s heart ached. He rubbed his thumb across the top of his son’s hand in hopes of soothing him. He licked his lips, clearing his throat before speaking. “You were right, I should’ve never come back to the Vale.”

“No.” Daemon shook his head. “These are your people and you were only doing what you thought was best. That is never wrong, zaldrītsos.”

“I am not so little anymore.” (Y/N) laughed at the nickname before his face contorted in pain, and he started to cough. Daemon reached for the milk of the poppy the maester had left by his bedside, but (Y/N) stopped him. “No. No more.”

“You are in pain.”

“I am more useful when not addled by milk of the poppy.”

Daemon took his son’s face gently in his hands, “You are most useful alive.”

(Y/N) turned his head as Daemon tried to give him the milk of the poppy, and Daemon frowned at his son’s stubbornness. He placed the cup back on the table when it was clear nothing short of pouring it down (Y/N)’s throat would make him drink it.

“Rhaenyra wished to see you.” Daemon said, trying to move the conversation onto lighter thoughts. “I feared she would take off after me on Syrax as soon as I left. But she’s on her way to Kingslanding with your boys.”

At the mention of Kingslanding (Y/N) caught Daemon’s wrist, hand visibly shaking from the effort. “Gunthor-”

Daemon gently grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, taking it off of his wrist. Daemon placed (Y/N)’s hand back on the bed, covering it with his own. “I know. Maester Pate warned us of his plans.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “You must listen.”

“I am listening.” Daemon assured him, “But you mustn’t worry about Gunthor, leave him to Rhaenyra and I.”

(Y/N) ignored his father’s advice, continuing on as if he hadn’t heard him. “We cannot rely on Viserys for support. Gerold is dead, so if I die-” (Y/N) paused, swallowing before speaking again. “Gunthor is still unmarried and without an heir. Seek out Rhaenys, offer a marriage between my boys and your girls. If Luke is to be wed before Gunthor, he is a more attractive heir to the Lords of the realm.”

“Have you spoken to Rhaenyra about this?” Daemon asked, gently massaging (Y/N)’s still shaking hand.

(Y/N) nodded, “In passing. But we cannot afford to wait anymore.”

“You will live.” Daemon insisted. “You just need rest.”

(Y/N) gave him a sad smile, nodding softly but unconvincingly. His eyes started to droop, and Daemon once again reached for the milk of the poppy, holding it before his son. (Y/N) stopped him, “You must protect them. Do what you need to, just promise me you will protect them.”

“Of course.”

(Y/N)’s face hardened as best it could against the exhaustion plaguing his body. “You don’t understand. Do what you must to protect them.”

Daemon froze, giving (Y/N) a curt nod. “Drink the milk of the poppy.” Satisfied with Daemon’s answer (Y/N) finally accepted the drink. Daemon placed the empty cup back in its place, gently cupping his son’s cheek. He rubbed his thumb against the bruise on his cheek gently. (Y/N)’s cheeks were sunken, and the dark circles under his eyes mingled with the other bruises on his face. (Y/N)’s eyes closed, and Daemon kissed his cheek.

Daemon stood, making to leave, but (Y/N)’s soft voice caught his attention before they could.

“They were noblemen, father.”

Daemon froze, preparing to ask what (Y/N)’s words meant. But when he turned to look at his son he had already fallen back asleep. Daemon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, already feeling the beginnings of a headache beginning to form. He left the room, walking in the opposite direction of where Caraxes was waiting for him and toward the Maester’s chambers for more answers.

The yard was practically empty as Daemon arrived. He stepped carefully out of the carriage, scoffing at the measly introduction given by a Kingsguard.

“All hail Prince Daemon Targaryen.”

He could only hope that Rhaenyra and his grandsons were shown more respect, but he doubted that if the Hightowers were in charge of their welcome. He doubted Viserys was even aware that they were arriving in Kingslanding.

“Welcome, my Prince.” Lord Caswell greeted Daemon. The man was clearly nervous to speak with Daemon, if the mindless fidgeting was anything to go off of.

“Where is Princess Rhaenyra?”

“The Princess is in the King’s chambers.”

Daemon gave him a curt nod in thanks before stalking off into the keep. He scarcely recognized the place he once called home, and the thought that the Hightower’s influence had started to bleed into the very foundations of the keep made him sneer. Almost all the emblems of House Targaryen had been removed from the walls of the keep, replaced instead with symbols of the faith. Daemon wanted to gauge his eyes out on one of the points of the seven-pointed star.

He eventually found his way to his brother’s chambers, opening the door silently at the sound of soft voices within. He was not so quiet as to not alert his niece, who immediately looked up at him and smiled.

“Father, Daemon is here.”

“Daemon?” His brother said, and Daemon walked forward at the sound of his brother’s faint voice. The sight that greeted him turned his stomach and made him freeze. He had thought (Y/N)’s appearance was enough to give him nightmares for moons, but the sight of his brother was going to plague him till he died.

“Daemon.” His brother called out again, and Daemon approached his side cautiously. “Daemon. Help me up.” He placed a pillow behind Viserys, guiding him into a sitting position. His brother gave him a pained smile. “It’s been so long.”

“(Y/N) has taken a grave wound in battle in the Vale.” Daemon saw Rhaenyra cringe at his bluntness from the corner of his eye. He wished he could have eased into the news, but they were not here for reunions, and he’d made his son a promise.

Viserys frowned, “There is no war in the Vale.”

Daemon scowled at his brother’s words, just how far into the dark had the Hightower’s pushed him these past years? “No. The mountain clans have become restless, they have pushed in the boundaries of the Vale houses. There has been fighting for months, brother.”

Viserys’ furrowed brows were the only indication he gave that he had heard Daemon’s words.

“There is a petition to decide upon the succession of Runestone and the heir to the Runestone throne.”

“Petition?” Viserys said, confused, “Alicent and Otto…they see to all that business now.”

“No.” Daemon huffed in frustration, “Brother listen to me. You are to affirm your position for Lucerys to be my son’s successor.”

The door opened behind him as he awaited Viserys response, the soft babbling of his grandsons easing some of his tension.

“Something happened to (Y/N)?” Viserys spoke, and Daemon shut his eyes tight. He shook his head, standing and walking away from his brother.

Rhaenyra walked up to him, placing Aegon in his arms. She took Viserys from the wetnurse next, sitting on the bed in front of Daemon. Daemon pressed his cheek into Aegon’s silver locks, smiling at the sound of the babe’s attempts at words.

“Father, there is someone we wish to introduce you to.” Rhaenyra said, and Viserys looked at Daemon confused.

“Daemon.”

“Brother.” Daemon said, and Viserys looked down at the babe in his arms.

“Who is that?”

Daemon smiled, shifting his hold on Aegon so that he could show their grandson off to his brother.

“Father. This is Aegon.” Rhaenyra smiled, and Daemon brushed his finger down the boy's cheek as he tried to wiggle out of his arms.

“Aegon.” Viserys repeated, before looking at the second babe in the room.

“And this is Viserys.” Rhaenyra bounced the younger child on her hip, and Viserys broke out into a grin.

“Viserys. Now that is a name fit for a king.” Daemon chuckled softly, wondering what his brother would have said if Rhaenyra had conceded to (Y/N)’s choice of name for the babe.

Viserys groaned in pain, and the sound seemed to upset the already fussy babes as they immediately started to break out into whines and cries. Daemon gently shushed Aegon, but the babe would not be comforted by his grandfather’s soft voice. He passed him off to the wet nurse, Rhaenyra, doing the same with a crying Viserys.

“Oh, I'm sorry I-I’m sorry.” Viserys apologized mindlessly as the babes were taken out of the room. “Please. My tea. My tea.”

“This?” Daemon approached the table next to the bed, grabbing the only cup he saw.

Viserys nodded, desperately trying to reach for the cup as Daemon brought it to his lips to drink. “Yes. Yes.”

When he finished Daemon brought the cup up under his nose sniffing it carefully. He frowned at the familiar scent of milk of the poppy, it was clear as Viserys quickly fell asleep that the tea was not for pain but to keep him incapacitated.

Rhaenyra walked away from the bed closer to the doors of the chambers. “How is (Y/N)?”

Daemon sighed, running his hand down in face as he took a seat near Rhaenyra. “He is-” Daemon swallowed. “In pain, the fever has not yet broken.”

“Did you speak with the maester?” Rhaenyra asked, and Daemon nodded.

“Yes, when I got there and before I left.” Daemon took the piece of parchment Maester Pate had given him before he left out of his pocket. “(Y/N) had Pate write this when they discovered Gunthor’s plans.”

He handed the parchment over to Rhaenyra who ran her fingers over the unbroken seal gingerly. “It’s his final decree.” Rhaenyra froze at his words, and Daemon watched as she turned from him to cover up the wetness of her eyes. “It declares Luke as his heir, among other things.”

Daemon considered telling her what (Y/N) had told him as he left and what Maester Pate himself had confirmed before giving Daemon the parchment, but the look on his niece's face as she looked at the parchment in her hands made him keep his mouth shut. He would tell her later, she had too much to worry about already, and if Daemon had his way, Gunthor would be dealt with before Rhaenyra even had his to worry about retribution.

“He does not think he will live?” Rhaenyra said and it was obviously supposed to be a question but the tone in her voice told Daemon she already knew the answer. Daemon did not respond, and Rhaenyra nodded, handing the parchment back to him silently.

“(Y/N) wishes to betroth my daughters to your sons, to strengthen our alliance with the Velayrons.”

Rhaenyra nodded, “I will speak with Rhaenys.” She sighed looking at where her father was laying, still asleep in his bed. “I will also speak with Maester Gerardys. Perhaps if he could see the King he’d suggest a different-”

Rhaenyra paused as the door opened, and they both turned to look as Alicent walked into the room. Alicent gave them a smile, although it didn’t reach her eyes. “Princess Rhaenyra. And Prince Daemon.”

Daemon hummed, not even bothering to give her a smile back.

“It has been so long since we were granted the joy of your presence. Although I do wish it could be under happier circumstances.” Her eyes slid from Rhaenyra to Daemon as she spoke.

“Indeed. Your Grace.”

“Though not long enough to merit a greeting upon our arrivals.” Daemon said, and the way Rhaenyra smirked told him that she too had received a less than warm welcome back home.

“I’m sure the Queen had pressing business, Uncle.” Rhaenyra said, taking a place next to where Daemon was sitting. “What can either of us know of ruling a kingdom?”

“I do not rule as you well know.” Alicent said. “My father and I are mere stewards of the King’s will and wisdom.”

“And how exactly is that wisdom expressed…hm?” Daemon asked, looking at Alicent properly for the first time since she entered the room. “In blinks and wheezes? I’d be surprised if he could remember his own name. Or if you could.”

“King Viserys’ condition had worsened since you saw him last.” Daemon laughed, and Alicent glared. “It subjects him to considerable pain. On the advice of the maesters-”

“Ah, the maesters. Of course.” Rhaenyra barked out a fake laugh. “It is they who keep him addled on milk of the poppy while the Hightowers warm his throne.”

“Rhaenyra if you could see him without it, almost blind with suffering.”

“Oh, Alicent, I have no doubt it was an act of the purest mercy.” Daemon said, voice hard. “But tell me, for the King’s suffering, did the maesters also prescribe the removal of Targaryen heraldry and the installation in its stead of various statues and stars?”

“The emblems of the Seven serve only to guide us on an uncertain path. To remind us of a higher authority.”

“And on the morrow,” Rhaenyra walked toward Alicent, who to Daemon's chagrin stood her ground against his niece’s piercing gaze. “Which authority will sit in judgment of my son’s claim on his own inheritance?”

“That would be mine.” She paused. “And the hand’s.”

Daemon scoffed, bitterly chuckling.

“But be assured the Father is just and commands me to forget the accusations you have hurled in this room today.”

Alicent looked to the Prince and Princess, before giving another of her false smiles and walking out of the room.

Daemon watched as Otto Hightower stood in front of his brother’s throne. Rhaenyra stood beside him, eyes darting between her half-siblings and the Hightowers. Jace stood beside his mother, posture tense and mouth turned down into a frown. The boy was obviously anxious, understanding the gravity of the situation at hand, but his anxiety was nothing compared to his younger brother. Luke had been on edge since Daemon saw him last night, he cared less about the hearing of the petitions and more about his father’s health and it devastated Daemon to be unable to calm his grandson’s worries.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Prince (Y/N) Royce survives his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Runestone. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” Otto spoke, taking a seat on the Iron Throne, and Daemon frowned at how comfortable he looked there. “The crown will now hear the petitions. Lord Gunthor of House Royce.”

Gunthor Royce stepped out from the crowd, not bothering to look at the boy who’s future he was trying to ruin. He turned to address Alicent and Otto instead. “My Queen. My Lord Hand. House Royce can date their lineage back ten thousand years to the Dawn Age, we were Kings while the Targaryens were still in Old Valyria. We are the blood of the first men, not the dragon, and our blood shall stay that way until the day our house disappears.

“I have spent my entire life in the Vale defending the seat of House Royce, first at the gates of moon and then at Runestone. I am Prince (Y/N)’s closest Vale kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Royce runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of (Y/N) Royce. The very spitting image of their Grandmother, Lady Rhea.” Rhaenyra spat, “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Lord Gunthor, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

“You will have the chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Lord Gunthor the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.” Alicent focused her gaze toward Rhaenyra and her family, voice tight. Gunthor smirked, finally turning to face Rhaenyra and Daemon.

“What do you know of Royce blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” Daemon’s eyes narrowed at his tone. “My Queen, my Lord Hand, this is a matter of blood not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my cousin’s successor…the lord of Runestone.”

“Thank you, Lord Gunthor.” Otto spoke. “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Royce.”

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, taking a step toward the middle of the hall. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very-”

She was cut off by the doors of the Great Hall opening. Everyone turned their attention toward the doors and Daemon’s breath caught in his throat at the sight in front of him.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Everyone fell silent as they watched Viserys make his way down the hall. The layers of clothes did little to hide his frail figure, sitting loose on his body and making the drastic weight loss obvious to those in the room. He had a gold mask on one side of his face which hid the most gruesome of the damage from the crowd.

His brother paused as he walked by Rhaenyra, he gave her a small nod before turning to address Otto. “I will sit the throne today.”

“Your Grace.”

Viserys made for the steps to the throne, pushing the Kingsgaurd’s accompanying him off to make the climb himself. He only made it two steps before he doubled over, crown falling to the ground with a sharp clatter. Daemon stepped out of the crowd walking past the guards and toward his brother.

“I said I’m fine.” Viserys insisted as Daemon grabbed an arm to steady him. When he realized it was Daemon helping him he paused, face giving away his shock.

“Come on.” Daemon said, under his breath so no one but his brother could hear him. “Steady.��

He gingerly helped his brother up to sit on the throne. When Viserys was settled in his rightful seat Daemon turned, picking up the throne off the steps. Viserys bowed his head and Daemon placed the crown atop the head of his King. He gave his brother a nod, before making his way back to Rhaenyra’s side.

“I must admit my confusion.” Viserys wheezed. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only ones present who might offer keener insight into Prince (Y/N)’s wishes are Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon.”

“Indeed, Your Grace.” Rhaenyra brushed Daemon’s arm in encouragement as he stepped toward the middle. “It was my son’s wish that Runestone pass to his second trueborn son Lucerys.”

Daemon took the parchment out of his pocket, showing off the unbroken seal to the crowd. He paused as he made eye contact with Gunthor, unable to stop the smirk that graced his face at the anger in the Lord’s expression. “I have a decree, seal unbroken, stating that his mind never changed.”

He took a deep breath before his next statement. Rhaenyra had talked to Rhaenys last night, and while the elder Princess had been less than happy with the suddenness of the proposal Rhaenyra had assured him that she’d agreed. Rhaenys held no love for Daemon, only fostering Baela out of her love for his late wife. He made eye contact with Rhaenys before speaking, silently asking her permission before making the official announcement. His cousin gave him a subtle nod, and he spoke.

“As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed the Princess Rhaenys and I of her and my sons desire to marry their sons Jace and Luke to my daughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which we have heartily agreed.”

“Well, the matter is settled. Again.” Viserys stated, wheezing. “I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Royce as heir to Runestone.”

Daemon could practically feel the relief radiating from his family behind him. He gave his brother a grateful nod and stepped back toward Rhaenyra and his grandsons.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Royce. No. I will not allow it.” Gunthor sneered at Viserys.

“Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Gunthor.”

“That is no true Royce! And certainly no cousin of mine.” At his words Daemon wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword.

“Go to your chambers, you have said enough.” Rhaenyra hissed at Gunthor. She took a step in front of her sons, allowing Daemon to step closer to Gunthor.

“Lucerys is the true-born grandson of Prince Daemon and I. You’re no more than the second son of a second son of Runestone” Viserys said.

“You may run your house as you see fit. But you will not decide the future of mine. House Royce is the blood of the First Men. We are ancient kings, and I will not allow our bloodline to end on account of these dragon-” He paused on his words, and Daemon remembered his son's warning. Gunthor does not care about the rumors spread by Alicent, his hatred for Daemon and (Y/N) drives him.

“Say it like you believe it, Lord Gunthor.” Daemon challenged.

“Her children are dragon bastards!” He yelled, words echoing through the now silent hall. Daemon slipped from his spot next to Rhaenyra unnoticed. “And she is a whore.”

“I will have your tongue for that.” Daemon heard Viserys say as he raised his sword, still unnoticed by everyone in the room.

Do what you must to protect them.

Daemon brought his sword down as his son's plea echoed through his head, and in one clean slice, Gunthor’s head rolled off his body onto the floor, the rest of him hitting the floor with a thud seconds later. Daemon looked at the body, and the hall broke out into yells. The man who had plagued (Y/N) for nearly twenty years, who most likely ordered his death, fell with a single swing of the sword. It was almost laughable how easy it was.

“Disarm him!” Otto yelled, and Daemon held his hands up in surrender.

“No need.” He wiped his sword with a piece of cloth before sheathing it.

Before anyone could respond Viserys collapsed atop the throne. Raised panic voices echoed through the hall as both Rhaenyra and Alicent ran toward Viserys. Daemon turned toward his grandsons, motioning to Jace to leave the room. Jace nodded, taking Luke’s arm and dragging him out of the room. Daemon watched, frozen in place, as the Grand Maester and Alicent helped carry his brother out of the room.

Daemon could feel the absence of (Y/N) by his side like a burn. The empty seat between him and Rhaenyra drew his eye every time he turned his head. Jace and Luke refused to look at it, focusing directly on their newly betrothed. The people around the table sat deliberately in silence as they waited for Viserys to make his way to the dinner, Daemon nursing his cup of wine as Rhaenyra turned her attention to Alicent every so often.

The door opened, and everyone stood as Viserys was carried into the room. He was placed between his daughter and his wife, and as soon as the guards took a step back to take their place by the door everyone took their seats.

“How good it is to see you all tonight.” Daemon grimaced at the strain in his brother’s voice. “Together.”

“Prayer before we begin?” Viserys nodded. “May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Gunthor Royce, may the gods give him rest.”

Daemon gave a bitter chuckle, which drew an amused look from his niece.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems.” His brother smiled, “My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their aunts, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed.”

“Hear, hear!” He called out, giving a smile to both his grandsons and his daughter as he raised his cup. He watched as Aegon whispered something to Jace, which caused the boy to frown.

“Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys, the future Lord of Runestone.” Everyone raised their cups again.

Aegon once again turned to Jace to whisper something in his ear, this time Jace responded. His words were too low for Daemon to make out but his face gave away his anger. Viserys interrupted the two men before anyone else could respond.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world yet grown so distant from each other in years past.” His brother stood, breath coming in short gasps as he struggled. He took the gold mask off his face, and Daemon winced at the sight of his rotted face. His right eye was completely gone, and his cheek was rotten and sunken. “My own face is no longer a handsome one if indeed it ever was. But tonight I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father, your brother, your husband, and your grandsire. Who may not it seems walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Viserys took a seat, body trembling with the effort of standing for so long. Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably in her seat, before grabbing her cup and standing. She looked around before clearing her throat and beginning to speak, “I wish to raise my cup to her grace the Queen. I love my father, but I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that she has my gratitude and my apology.”

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, princess. We are both mother’s, and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” Alicent stood, cup in hand. “I raise my cup to you and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

Alicent took a seat, and Daemon picked his cup up to take a drink of the wine. He was interrupted by Jace standing quickly, giving Aegon a dirty look as he did. Aemond followed his league, gaze trained on Jace. Daemon watched the three men stare at each other, grip on his cup tightening.

Finally Jace spoke, picking up his cup. “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s health, dear uncles.”

“To you as well.” Aegon said, clearly unhappy with the result of his relentless teasing.

Haelena stood next, smiling as if the tensions of the evening were completely lost on her. “I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad, mostly he just ignores you. Except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

He barked out a sudden laugh, covering it up with his hand. His brother asked for music, and the tensions dissipated from the room. Jace stood from his seat, offering his hand to his aunt Haelena and taking her to the middle of the room, where they began to dance. Daemon smiled softly at the sight, turning to catch Rhaenyra’s eye. She, too, was staring at the sight, and Daemon could tell it reminded her of her own similar dance with (Y/N) nearly twenty years ago.

Rhaenyra caught his eye and blushed.

“You miss him.” Daemon stated, and Rhaenyra nodded. She ran her fingertips along the edge of her cup, smiling softly to herself as she did. Daemon reached across, pointedly ignoring the empty chair, to rest his hand on his niece’s arm. “A fever will not take him from you, he is too stubborn for that.”

Rhaenyra laughed, “He is his father’s son.”

She touched Daemon’s hand in gratitude, she looked to where Luke was speaking to Rhaena. Daemon followed her gaze, smiling fondly at the sight. “I fear I may be made a grandsire again soon.”

Rhaenyra’s hand fell to her stomach, “Let us hope it will be a few years. There are too many babes in this family already.”

Daemon chuckled, but his amusement quickly died as he watched the guards take his brother out of the room. Everyone paused their activities watching the King silently as he was carried out. Servants entered the room shortly after placing more food on the table, but the mood was too damaged to return to its previous lightness. Daemon startled slightly as Aemond stood, table clinking under the weight of his hands landing on top of it.

“Final tribute.” He looked around the room, raising his cup. “To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent warned, but Aemond ignored her.

“Come let us drain our cups to these three…strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again.” Jace challenged, and Rhaenyra tensed next to Daemon.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond approached Jace, who rounded quickly on his uncle throwing a punch. He missed as Aemond dodged the first and soon all the children were out of the seat. Aegon had Luke pinned to the table and Aemond had pushed Jace to the floor. The guards separated the boys as Daemon stood and watched the action. Alicent had grabbed Aemond, harshly whispering in his ear.

Aemond spoke up halfway through his response to his mother. “-though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs, perhaps if they had their father’s eyes-”

Jace tried to break the guards hold on him, but Daemon took a step between the families before he could. “Wait! Wait!”

“Go to quarters. All of you go, now.” Rhaenyra ordered her sons. They mumbled under their breath, shooting glares at their uncles, but they turned and allowed themselves to be escorted out. Daemon leveled a glare at Aemond, raising an eyebrow in challenge at the young man. Aemond huffed, shaking his head as he followed his nephews out.

“It’s best I think if we go back to Dragonstone.” Rhaenyra said, and Alicent took his hand in hers. Daemon raised an eyebrow at the sight.

“You’ve only just arrived,” Alicent said, finger rubbing along the scar she herself gave to Rhaenyra as she spoke.

“Let me see the children home, and I’ll return on dragon back.” Rhaenyra said softly, “I have to fly to Runestone anyway.”

“The king and I would both like that.”

“My Prince you should not-”

(Y/N) waved the maester off, continuing to limp slowly down the steps; cane held so tightly his knuckles were white with the strain. He had practically leaped, as much a man in his condition could, when he saw the ships approach the shore of Dragonstone, signaling the return of his family.

Maester Pate had almost wrung his neck when (Y/N) informed him of his plans to return to Dragonstone on Vermithor when his fever finally broke. He probably would have if (Y/N) was not the Lord of Runestone, but he allowed the Prince to leave Runestone. (Y/N) had all but collapsed from the pain when he landed on Dragonstone, his last thought before he hit the ground was that Maester Pate would be laughing if he could see the Prince now. When he woke, the maesters of Dragonstone told him he was a fool for trying to fly while his injuries were still healing, but (Y/N) had just brushed them off and asked for something to alleviate the pain.

He watched now as his family made their way up the beach. His sons caught sight of him first, the eldest three breaking into a run toward him. Jace grabbed Joffrey and lifted him into his arms before the young boy could run straight into his father. (Y/N) gave him a grateful nod, and Jace smiled.

“Father,” Jace said. “Mother said you were at Runestone with a fever.”

“I got better.” Luke leaned into his side, careful not to aggravate his father’s wounds. He did not speak, but (Y/N) could see the events of the past weeks were weighing heavily on the boy. He ran his fingers through the boy’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I will meet you inside after I speak with your mother.”

His sons made their way inside, but not before (Y/N) pressed a kiss to Joffrey and Jace’s cheeks. The maids carrying his youngest sons were next, and the two babbled and grabbed at their father as they walked by. He pressed soft kisses into their soft white hair before allowing the maids to carry them inside as well.

Daemon rushed him, bringing him in tight and (Y/N) grunted in pain as his wounds pressed into his father. At the sound of his son in pain his father released him, worrying painting his face. He grabbed (Y/N)’s face, “Are you alright?”

“I am better.” (Y/N) smiled, allowing his father to press a kiss to the top of his head. “I heard what you did, and I thank you. For protecting them, father.”

“You do not need to thank me.” Daemon said into his hair. “I told you once I would provide you with anything you needed and I meant it.”

Daemon pulled back, taking (Y/N)’s appearance in completely. “Did you fly here?” He sighed at (Y/N)’s guilty look, “Remember that you are not seven and ten anymore, my boy. You cannot afford to be so reckless with your life.”

“Uncle.” Rhaenyra cleared her throat behind Daemon. “May I have a moment with my husband.”

Daemon gave (Y/N) a smile, pressing one last kiss to his cheek before leaving. Rhaenyra looked downright murderous at the sight of her husband, and (Y/N) sighed. “I have been lectured enough these past days, Rhaenyra. I am aware I should not have flown so soon after-”

(Y/N) was cut off by Rhaenyra grabbing him and crushing their lips together. She pressed their foreheads together, breathing heavily when they broke apart. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“It is not yet my time to join my ancestors.” Rhaenyra laughed wetly, running her thumbs across his cheeks.

“We have much to talk about.” Rhaenyra said softly. “Your cousin is dead, and Luke’s position is secure.”

(Y/N) nodded, “I am glad.”

“Daemon did not tell me much at Kingslanding. I think he feared whispers being heard by the wrong ears.”

(Y/N) nodded, offering the hand not holding his cane to his wife. She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before taking his hand. “Come, I will tell you everything over dinner.”

---

Translations -

Kepa - Father

Zaldrītsos - Little Dragon

#edited and rewrote this so many times #and I still kinda hate it #x male reader #house of the dragon #x reader #x y/n #house of the dragon x male reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x male reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

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