#The Princess of Dorne Series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rennalaqotfm · 8 months ago

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𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART IV)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Sexual content (but MDNI 18+ just to be safe), dry humping (-ish?), violence, alcohol consumption, toxic dynamics, swearing, themes of prejudice and misogynism, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

WC: 5.6k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

As the winds guided Ser Tyland's ship to the Free Cities, the excitement regarding the wedding of the future Princess of Dorne and the Crown Prince buzzed in the air. No ravens had to be sent, for the whispers began within the palace walls, spread through the bustling streets of Sunspear, and were carried by the desert winds across the dunes, reaching the furthest Dornish houses.

Princess Y/n sat before her mirror, watching her handmaiden, Melynda, fasten the back of her dress. A sweet girl of one-and-twenty, Melynda had been brought from Pentos on a cramped boat, a former slave traded by her master for coin. Ever since she had served the Princess with quiet devotion, her nimble fingers always making a masterpiece out of her.

Despite being draped in the finest fabrics of deep sapphire, adorned with intricate golden swirls and beads of amber, Y/n stared blankly at her reflection. The celebrations leading to the wedding were set to last a fortnight, a long stretch filled with feasts, ceremonies, and endless politicking. In mere hours, she would be facing the guests, forced to smile and charm as she and the Velaryon boy persuaded them to align with Rhaenyra's cause. She didn't even know where to begin looking for the strength and willpower she had to gather to convince those lords to join a war she herself didn't fully believe in.

“Is it too tight, Princess?” Melynda asked meekly, noting how Y/n had remained quiet the whole time she had been preparing her. "Princess?"

Suddenly, Y/n's bottom lip began to quiver as she felt a knot forming in her throat.

“Gods be damned…” she muttered, feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. “How did it all come to this?”

“If it's too tight, mayhaps I could—”

“Of course, it’s bloody tight! It’s damn near crushing my guts!” the Princess burst out, causing her handmaiden to stumble backward, her hands trembling. “I apologise, Melynda,” she sniffed, feeling the guilt pool in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she had taken her anger and frustration out on the younger girl. Of all the people in the palace, she was the least deserving of such crude treatment. “It’s just—”

“I understand, Princess,” Melynda smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/n held her hand softly, holding back her cries. “To be betrothed to someone who you don't truly love must be a punishment for the soul.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid this all these years. Gods forbid a woman who wants to live a life free from all this nonsense," she muttered bitterly.

“You are to be the Princess of Dorne. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But not with a Targaryen… someone who sees us as nothing more than goatfuckers.”

“Once you get to acquainted with one another, I’m certain he’ll see past the veil of prejudice that blinds the rest of Westeros.”

“Oh, we’re well past the point of acquaintances, and I’m certain we’ve both made it clear that we’d rather kill each other than push forward with this betrothal.”

“And yet, you've hardly spent a moment alone together, away from prying eyes. Forgive me if I'm wrong, my Princess, but this hostility you feel towards one another... it feels more like the weight of your houses than your own. He’s not truly wronged you, nor have you wronged him... well, apart from the few wounds you’ve exchanged.”

“I wish it were as simple as you say, but the hatred between our houses runs deeper than that trial. We’re talking about years of bloodshed, of lives torn apart by their desire to conquer what was never theirs. How can we ever forget that? If anything, those Targaryens are only reaping what they've sown.”

“I understand, Princess, but is it truly fair to place the sins of the forefathers upon their children? Yes, the Targaryens once sought to conquer Dorne, but they failed. And since then, they’ve left us to rule our lands. Why should Prince Jacaerys suffer for the wrongdoings of his ancestors when he himself hasn't harmed you?”

“You speak the truth, Melynda. But do you truly think the rest of the Dorne will see it that way?” She stared at her handmaiden's reflection. “The pain the Targaryens have caused... it’s not just written in our histories, it’s engraved into the souls of our people.”

“I’m not saying that your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys will reconcile your houses overnight, Princess. In fact, it may take generations to heal these wounds. However, if Queen Rhaenyra proves to be the rightful and just ruler she claims to be, and honours your demands... and you and Prince Jacaerys unite the Seven Kingdoms as promised, then mayhaps it could be the beginning of something.”

Suddenly, both women were startled by a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Y/n cleared her throat.

“My Princess,” Ser Domeric said from the other side. “The guests have begun to arrive, and your presence is expected shortly.”

Princess Y/n quickly composed herself, ensuring that any trace of sorrow had vanished from her face, and replaced her semblance with a mask of indifference.

The late afternoon breeze crept through the palace windows, stirring the heavy air in the Hall but doing little to lift the mood. Spirits were low and the lingering music was drowned out by the quiet murmurs of the guests. Lords and ladies from House Yronwood to House Qorgyle had traversed across the arid deserts to Sunspear, not out of enthusiasm, but out of duty, their gazes shifting warily as they gathered to pay tribute to the Princess. Even Y/n herself, appeared as though she wished to be anywhere else.

At the high table, the Martells sat alongside the Targaryens, not able to look one another eye to eye. They faced the great houses, whose semblance didn’t hide their disdain for the dragonriders. They showed no efforts for forced pleasantries, bracing themselves for the next chapter of conflict rather than celebrating a wedding that would unite the Seven Kingdoms.

Before anything, Prince Qoren stood up, ready to speak before his people.

“It is truly an honour to welcome you all this evening, and I thank each and every one of you for making the long journey to Sunspear. Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the betrothal of my beloved daughter, Princess Y/n Martell, to the Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon... but also, the union between House Martell and House Targaryen,” he spoke, the enthusiasm fading in his voice.

The crowd fell into an immediate hush, the lords and ladies exchanging uncertain glances, some full of resentment, and some full of disgust. Y/n felt each pressing gaze suffocating her and tried to hide her discomfort behind the rim of her cup, already expecting those pessimistic reactions. After all, who in their right mind would willingly wed a Targaryen?

“Out of all of the suitors that have lost their lives willing to serve you and our realm, you chose to spare the one whose ancestors sought to conquer our lands?” Lady Liara from House Briar’s voice trembled, barely able to hold back her anger. “Could you not have shown mercy to my sweet boy Eldritch instead?”

The Princess had always been taught to hold back in such moments, especially in front of such a large audience, but before she could stop herself, the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

“My Lady,” Y/n began, trying to push down the feeling of irritation rising up her chest. “Remind me… who sent your son, alone, to seek my hand? As far as I know, someone that young shouldn’t be burdened with ‘providing me a strong heir’ or ‘making Dorne more prosperous than it already is.’ Those aren’t words a boy of three-and-ten should be speaking.”

Lady Liara sank back to her seat with a scowl. The Princess’ gaze swept across the Hall, their faces etched with grief and bitterness, never forgetting the lives lost in pursuit of her hand.

Whilst the guests sat in silence, waiting for either Prince Qoren or Princess Y/n to justify such a decision, Rhaenyra seized the moment to capture the crowd’s attention. She cleared her throat and rose slowly, her lilac eyes lingering on each guest, meeting the same eyes that had carried pent-up hatred for generations.

“By coming here, we are not denying the sins of House Targaryen,” she paused, allowing her words to settle, her gaze never leaving the crowd. “I understand that to many of you, we are still the enemy. I am aware of the blood that was spilled and the pain that has lingered for generations. But the true enemies now are the Greens, who have usurped the Throne and seek to bring all of Westeros to its knees. And I know Dorne will not bend without a fight. Join us, and we will stand together. We can prevent the war that the Greens will bring to your lands.”

Despite Rhaenyra's words, the guests still mumbled with one another and her plea fell on indifferent ears. She clasped her hands together, holding her composure.

“So, the Greens are the enemies now, eh?" A voice echoing across the hall finally broke through the whispers. “To them, you are the usurper. And as far as we are concerned, they have yet to come to our lands to pester us with this petty war of yours.”

“Do not mistake their silence for mercy, my Lord. When they come, they will not ask. They will take. And by then, it may be too late to decide where your loyalties lie,” Daemon retorted.

“They have left us with no other choice,” Lord Lysander Dayne scowled. “Is this why you brought these beasts? So they can burn us if we refuse to join?”

Upon the mere mention of the dragons, the fear of the crowd became palpable. Prince Qoren’s face was flushed with anger, seeing that the celebration had somehow turned into a council meeting.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Prince Qoren bellowed, rising to his feet and jabbing his fist to the table. "We are here to celebrate the upcoming wedding of my daughter, not to squabble over this bloody war! If I hear more of it tonight, I’ll throw you in a pit of scorpions myself," his voice cut through the crowd, making the lords shrink back into their seats as he glared at Rhaenyra.

The music, which had momentarily ceased, began to play again. Princess Y/n exhaled deeply, gripping her cup as she swirled the crimson liquid. If she was going to endure the remainder of this night and persuade those thick-skulled lords to support Rhaenyra, she would need wine. A lot of it. She downed the first cup, the sweet taste lingering on her palate as her gaze shifted across the room, spotting the lords she had to sway.

Lord Lysander of House Dayne sat with his lady wife, his stern face etched with displeasure. He had made it clear where he stood, opposing any involvement in the war. Yet, he was infamously known for his ambition; he was the sort of man who would bend the knee for the right price, advancing his own house in exchange for his formidable army. Then there was Lord Thaddeus of House Yronwood, head of the second-most powerful house in Dorne, capable of providing enough supplies to sustain the armies at sea; a practical man, loyal to tradition, but always open to negotiation. On the other side of the Hall, she spotted Lord Ander of House Jordayne, who owned the largest fleet in Dorne.

Ser Domeric, being part of House Uller and their loyal informant, would provide whatever support was asked. And lastly, House Santagar, though not enthusiastic, had always been fiercely loyal to the Martells and would stand by their house regardless.

Despite the collective disappointment lingering in the air, as the feast came to an end, the guests stood up to salvage what remained of the evening. Jacaerys’ eyes followed Y/n as she rose from her seat, weaving through the multitude and making her way to Lord Lysander. The man bowed his head and extended his hand, offering the Princess a dance which she accepted with a smile that seemed far too charming than she would normally allow herself to be. Jacaerys couldn’t tear his gaze from Y/n, watching how she leaned towards Lord Lysander, her lips closely brushing his ear, as he nodded eagerly so as not to disappoint her.

“A celebration of our upcoming betrothal?” Jacaerys scoffed, already feeling his blood boil at the sight of the Princess with another man. Had they been at the Red Keep, the whispers would have already circled around, rumours of the Princess enjoying the company of other men, even while bound by a betrothal to him, that would call into question not only her honour but the legitimacy of their future children. He could already hear the council’s scandalous whispers behind closed doors–whispers that had been haunting him all his life.

“She’s quite gifted, isn’t she, my dear sister?” Elyas remarked, turning to Jacaerys. “She has a way of making men dance in the palm of her hand.”

“Only if one is foolish enough to fall for whatever games she is playing,” Jacaerys muttered.

Jacaerys and Elyas watched how Lord Lysander placed a kiss on top of her hand. With one final whisper, she slipped away from his arms and disappeared into the crowd, only to be seen again; that time with Lord Ander, who offered the Princess his hand without hesitation.

“There are a couple of things you should know about her,” Elyas said with a sneer, glancing at the Princess. “One of them is… you’ll never be her only one.”

“You need not tell me what I can already see. It seems your sister is not familiar with the notion of faithfulness.”

“Faithfulness? As far as I’m aware, neither of you are bound by vows just yet,” Elyas grinned, noting how Jacaerys clearly wasn’t enjoying the conversation. "But listen, this celebration isn’t meant for you to sulk in a corner, watching my sister dance with every lord in Dorne. It's for indulging. There’s a place not too far from the palace, where we know how to truly celebrate. Who knows? You might not even survive this war you’re throwing yourself into. You may as well enjoy the finest pleasures our land has to offer before it’s too late," Jacaerys’s knuckles whitened around his cup, his repulsion palpable, but Elyas only leaned in closer.

As much as Jacaerys despised watching Princess Y/n flit from lord to lord, he wasn’t about to lower himself to her games. What was she trying to prove? Was she testing him, daring him to show any signs of jealousy or anger? Or mayhaps she was simply making it clear, once again, how much she misliked him?

Jacaerys refused to give Elyas the satisfaction of a response and merely shook his head. Elyas smirked, amused by Jacaerys' restraint, and stood up, ensuring he ruined the evening even more before leaving.

“Oh, and just so you know… whatever illusions you have about loyalty and honour, you'd best cast them aside. If you think my sister will suddenly change her ways after this betrothal of yours, then you’re completely wrong. I’m telling you now, she won’t. She’s as Dornish as they come… untamable and always chasing trouble. The more you tighten the leash, the more she’ll struggle to break free. And she’ll keep playing her games, whether you like them or not... so you better learn how to play them if you don't wish to end up as another one of her playthings,” Elyas said, slapping Jacaerys’ shoulder playfully before walking away.

Jacaerys hadn’t even realised how tightly he was clenching his jaw until the sound of Elyas and his sworn protector’s fading footsteps pulled him back to reality. He let out a breath, trying to shake off the bitterness away, and downed a gulp of wine.

But what he hadn’t noticed was a pair of dark wide eyes watching him from the other end of the table. It was Farien, whose gaze had been flickering between him and Elyas the whole time. When Jacaerys caught the boy's gaze, his expression softened. He set down his cup, watching how the little boy stood up and made his way over to him.

“If you marry my sister, does that mean you’ll become my brother?” Farien asked.

“I suppose,” he forced a smile, though he wasn’t sure if the little boy was particularly glad about that.

Farien climbed on to the empty seat beside Jacaerys, glancing around the nearly deserted table and making sure none of his family members were nearby. All of the Martells were tending their own business, leaving the Targaryens seated in silence. The boy leaned in close, cupping his small hands around Jacaerys’s ear, scared that someone might hear what he had to say.

“So, does that mean I get to ride your dragon?” He whispered.

Jacaerys looked at him, his eyes widening in surprise.

“If your father allows you, then I suppose you could… but are you not afraid?” He asked.

“I’m really, really scared. But I wonder what it must feel like to see the world from up above. The closest I’ve ever gotten to flying is in my dreams, you know? It feels like I’m one of Father’s falcons, soaring high in the skies. Father says I have the gift to turn into one of them at night and watch over the desert,” he glanced up, his eyes gleaming in wonder.

Jacaerys looked at the boy and allowed himself to smile, as Farien somehow reminded him of his younger brother, Joffrey, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.

“Anyway,” Farien continued, “I think we could be brothers, you and I. We even look alike, see?” He pointed at Jacaerys’ curls. “It would be nice to have another brother... because, well, Elyas... he’s nice, sometimes. But not always.”

Jacaerys held back a scoff, figuring as much.

“And what about your sister?”

“We like sneaking sweets from the kitchens and feeding them to the horses,” Farien’s eyes suddenly lit up. “And she loves fighting, too. But not the angry, shouting kind, no. She says that sometimes, fighting feels like dancing, and that’s why she enjoys it. She’s really good at it. And I think you are too. But my sister is better.”

Just as he was about to ask Farien what other things his sister enjoyed, one of the little boy’s servants approached them.

“My Prince, your father has sent me to take you back to your chambers to rest,” she smiled at the little boy, who had no choice but to accept dejectedly.

As the servant took him in her arms, Farien waved at Jacaerys with a small smile. He nodded at the little boy, unable to stop himself from smiling back.

“At least the little one is not as irritating as the rest of his family,” Rhaenyra said as her gaze softened, noticing how the little boy never tore his eyes from them as he got further and further.

“Give him a couple of years. He will turn out exactly like his older brother,” Daemon muttered.

Then, Jacaerys' gaze trailed back to the Princess once again, who was still locked in a dance with Lord Ander. The exchange of whispers seemed to grow more intense, as his lips lingered on the shell of her ear, making her nod as her smile never left her lips.

“Jacaerys,” Daemon’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you not have a duty to fulfil?”

“I have been fulfilling them since the moment we arrived,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As Jacaerys had been doing everything he could to uphold his duties, Daemon merely sat back, watching the spectacle he had set in motion unravel before him.

“You have, but sitting and watching the Princess be courted by every lord in Dorne is not one of them. Listen to me, these men are doing everything in their power to pull her away from our alliance since they can see she does not favour you,” he paused leaning in closer. “You are no stranger to this. If you two are to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she needs to be seen by your side.”

Jacaerys rose from his seat as he exhaled, growing frustrated by the second. It was all in the name of duty, after all. He headed towards the Princess with steady steps, disappearing into the crowd and dodging every drunken lord and lady that stood in his way. Lord Ander, who seemed to have more intentions than just dancing with the Princess, held her close, too close, his hands lingering on her waist.

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cleared his throat, barely containing himself. Lord Ander snapped his head towards his direction. “I would hate to interrupt your conversation, but the hour is quite late, and Princess Y/n needs to rest.”

“Is that so?” He pulled Y/n even closer to him, making Jacaerys’ blood boil. “How come the Princess seems to be enjoying herself?”

Jacaerys’ eyes flicked to the cup in her hand, the liquid threatening to spill from the rim. He wasn’t a stranger to that dazed look and that loose smirk playing on her lips.

“The Princess seems to have indulged in one too many cups. You may continue whatever… conversation you were having on the morrow, my Lord,” Jacaerys forced his words through his teeth.

“Is that an order from the Crown Prince? Or from a boy who is still learning how to hold a woman’s interest?” Lord Ander raised a brow, sliding his hand even lower on her waist.

The Princess’ gaze flicked between the two men, unaware of the escalating tension. She took another sip from her cup, her eyes landing on Jacaerys, finally acknowledging how dashing he looked in a Dornish ensemble of deep blues and golds.

“Gods, spare me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You two sound like you’re ready to start another war.”

“If it means winning your favour, Princess,” Lord Ander said with a grin.

“Mayhaps that's a battle for another day. Besides, the Prince is right, the hour is quite late,” she said softly, growing tired at the show of bravado between the two men. She moved away from Lord Ander and took a step towards Jacaerys.

Jacaerys, whose heart was pounding with both anger and relief, offered her his arm. Y/n would’ve hesitated at first, but under the effects of wine, any qualms were long gone. She noted how he tensed his arm uncomfortably, unaware that she was putting pressure on the wound she had given him not too long ago.

Casymir leaned against one of the pillars with a hint of amusement on his face, watching the whole scene unfold before his eyes. Once Jacaerys and Y/n were away from the crowd, he finally pushed himself off the pillar, approaching Jacaerys, who was struggling to keep her in place.

“Allow me, my Prince. The Princess is in good hands with me,” he said, extending his arm.

Jacaerys glared at Casymir as he adjusted her weight in his arm, wondering what he was smiling for.

“You are the Princess’ sworn protector, are you not?” He raised his brow.

“Yes, my Prince,” he smiled proudly.

“Yet all you did was stand and watch how the Princess wandered into the clutches of men with less than noble intentions,” Jacaerys tried to keep his composure, though his anger simmered beneath the surface.

“Do you question my service to the Princess, my Prince?” He chuckled, brushing the Prince’s concerns aside. “The Princess was in no immediate danger. And as far as I’m aware, a dance with a lord hardly constitutes a threat.”

“If you think a man whose ulterior motives are clearly written in his face not to be dangerous, then mayhaps we have very different understandings of the word danger,” Jacaerys said.

“You greatly misunderstand the Princess. Lord Ander was eager, but he knew better than to cross the line. And besides, she would’ve ended his attempts long before you stepped in. As you might have already… experienced, the Princess knows how to handle herself and hardly needs to be coddled,” his blue eyes trailed at the way their arms were intertwined. “Though, it seems she doesn’t mind letting you try.”

“So, what are you here for, then? Just for decoration?”

“Is picking fights with other men a favourite pastime of yours, my Prince?” The Princess laughed, poking fun at Jacaerys as she unconsciously tightened her grip around his injured arm. “You do seem to have a talent for making enemies wherever you go.”

Jacaerys hesitated, unsure if replying to the Princess was even worth the efforts given her current state, so he merely scoffed, shaking his head in defeat. However, one thing he couldn’t ignore was the feeling of having her so close as she mindlessly ran her hand up and down the length of his arm. He tried to calm his heart, but he couldn’t keep his composure with each stroke of her fingers that made him lean into her touch ever so slightly.

Once they reached the Princess’ chambers, Casymir leaned on the door, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly calm expression on his face.

“If you wish to be escorted back to your chambers, my Prince, I can call for a servant,” Casymir offered, implying that Jacaerys had overstayed his welcome.

“No. I wish to stay. The Princess and I have a few words to exchange,” he said.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” the Princess slurred, assuring her sworn protector with a slow nod.

“As you wish, my Princess. I'll be just outside, should you require any assistance.”

Jacaerys stood by the door, unsure of what to do now that he was inside the Princess’ chambers. It wasn’t improper of him, as her soon-to-be husband, to be seen there, so he found himself leaning against the wall, trying to regain the composure that he had repeatedly lost throughout the night. His eyes trailed around the intricately carved golden statues that adorned the corners and the colourful tapestries that swayed slightly, catching the faint breeze that slipped through the windows and bringing with it the distant murmurs of the ongoing celebration.

Only when he heard a soft clink and the steady stream of wine being poured into a cup, he snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could even think, he turned to Y/n, walking towards her and snatching the cup and jug from her hands, causing her mouth to hang open in disbelief and indignation.

“You will not drink any more tonight,” he ordered, pouring the liquid out of the window and slamming the cup aside.

“Well, isn’t this absolutely perfect?” She spat, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. “Not only will you take away my freedom, but now you wish to take away one of the few things that bring me joy?”

“You must live a very miserable life, Princess, if wine and men are the few things in life that bring you joy,” Jacaerys burst out, no longer able to contain the pent-up anger that had been brewing all night.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll have a miserable life once I marry you.”

“And what makes you think I want to marry you? That behaviour of yours… is unacceptable,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I do not wish to marry someone who is a slave to their desires.”

“A slave to my desires? Is that what you think of me?” Y/n shouted, unable to control the fury taking over her voice.

“What else am I supposed to think when you go from lord to lord like a marionette whose strings had been cut?” He paused, taking in her dishevelled appearance. “I was not aware how these Dornishmen could name someone so ruthless and so debauched as their Princess.”

“And I didn’t know you Targaryens go around crowning bastards just to keep your house on the Throne,” she spat, making sure to rest her gaze on his dark eyes and on his brown locks long enough.

“You whore–!”

Before Jacaerys could finish his sentence, Y/n's palm collided with his cheek in a stinging slap, his head snapping to the side. His eyes widened, more in shock than pain, as his hand instinctively rose to the reddening mark on his face.

“A whore? A savage? A goatfucker?” Y/n's voice trembled with fury. “Is that all you see me as?” She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. Her finger jabbed into his chest with every word. “You,” she spat, “should be thanking me for getting my hands dirty, persuading those lords to join your petty war!”

Jacaerys was stunned into silence momentarily, feeling every ounce of her rage bleeding through her words.

“And who told you to do that on your own?” Jacaerys shot back. “You could have asked me, we could have gone together and spoken to them like it is expected of us!”

“You overestimate yourself,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you even know what those lords think of you? Of your family? If it weren’t for our betrothal, they would have driven a spear through your chests without a second thought. Because to them, you Targaryens are nothing but bloodthirsty murderers who’ve come to take our lands all over again.”

“Enough!” Jacaerys grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her, slamming her against the wall. “You think I do not know that? You think I do not feel it every time I step into a room? The way they look at me? At my family? You think I enjoy being the enemy?” He seethed, feeling his throat grow raw with each word. “Gods, you are infuriating,” he grunted, realising how close their faces were to one another.

The Princess’ lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of satisfaction lingering in her eyes. She had struck a nerve, realising how Jacaerys was always quick to react to whatever blasphemous speech she had to say about his family, and once again, she had managed to unleash the dormant wrath that blinded his actions.

As the Princess found herself cornered between his arms and the wall, she crouched low, slipping beneath his arms in a fluid motion and spinning around to pin Jacaerys against the wall, pressing her chest to his back. Jacaerys reacted instinctively, kicking off the wall to shove her back. The sudden force sent her stumbling as she crashed on the ground, and he followed, landing on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Just as he was about to stand up, Y/n yanked him back down and rolled on top of him, keeping him in place by locking her thighs around his waist and pinning his arms on the floor with one swift movement. Truth be told, Jacaerys could have easily pushed her away as her usual strength was halved by the wine; yet he remained still, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body pressed into his, and how their faces were inches apart yet again, her breath hot on his skin.

Once again, he found himself under her mercy.

She stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and lips slightly open as she breathed lightly, taking in the sight of Jacaerys’ flushed face and his gaze clouded by desire. Jacaerys looked up at her and gulped, feeling his erection stirring uncomfortably beneath his breeches.

His eyes locked onto her plump lips and trailed towards to the hollow of her neck, down to her chest. He stared hungrily as she leaned towards him, his fingertips itching to explore the skin hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. As she got closer and closer to his face, Jacaerys’ breath hitched, and without realising it, his lips parted slightly as his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. His pulse quickened, waiting for the warmth of her lips pressing against his.

But instead of the kiss he craved, he felt the hot caress of her breath graze the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Her voice, low and smooth, held him captive with each honeyed word.

“If you want to win this little war of yours, you better start by respecting me,” she whispered as she let go of one of his wrists and began tracing delicate patterns with her finger. “Just because I’ve chosen you as my betrothed doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind,” she bucked her hips against his hardened cock, causing Jacaerys to groan at the sudden spark of pleasure coursing in his veins.

In that very moment, Y/n had uncovered yet another emotion—the primal desire that, despite her infuriating attitude, she had managed to set ablaze. If Jacaerys had to ask himself how it happened, he wouldn’t know where to begin answering. Had it all started when they first met, when she held little regard for him? Was it in the arena, when she brazenly humiliated him in front of everyone? Or was it the fact that they always seemed to find themselves pointing a blade at each other’s throats? Behind all that anger and hatred, and the prejudice that blinded him from seeing the Princess as she truly was, lay a spark of curiosity. Something he knew that once he began to explore, that spark would turn into wildfire.

With each passing second, he fought against the temptation to place his hands on the curve of her hips and make her grind herself against his cock.

“Remember, my Prince,” she purred in his ear, bucking her hips once again. “The wedding has not taken place yet, and anything could happen.”

A/N: For some reason, i keep beating my wordcount record. istg my fanfic wc is way bigger than all of my uni papers combined, and bare in mind i was a humanities student lmfaooo.

anyway, i feel like this chapter was a mess. jace's patience continuously getting tested by everyone, and our reader making things even harder for him. i actually feel sorry for those two but the way they are handling things is not very demure, mindful or cutesy. we got the exact opposite.

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a (continued in comments)

#dragonspear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace x you #jace x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house martell #oc x reader #oc x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x you smut

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msmorningstaarr · 1 year ago

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let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

ao3 | masterlist

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;

a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.

His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.

“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.

“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.

“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.

“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.

“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.

“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.

“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”

The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.

“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.

Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”

“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.

“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”

“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.

“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.

“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.

“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.

“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”

“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.

“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.

“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.

“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.

You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.

“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.

“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.

“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”

“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.

By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.

“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”

You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.

“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.

“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.

You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.

As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.

When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.

“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.

“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”

And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.

“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.

The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.

“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.

The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.

“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.

“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.

With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.

Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.

“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.

Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."

And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."

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daemonbrain · 4 months ago

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Little Viper

Prologue | Chapter 1

(Daemon Targaryen x Dornish!Reader)

Summary: The sun could not reach you here, not in this city of rain and stink. (Un)fortunately, you found yourself at the mercy of a dragon's fire.

You've missed the heat, you supposed.

6k, CW: arranged marriage, canon divergent, canon-typical violence, canon-typical misogyny, reader is homesick, smut, will update as I post.

a/n: This was def a bitch to write lol, I really need to get back into it. I haven't decided whether i'm going to turn this into a proper multi-part series or not so I encourage you to leave comments if this is something you'd be interested in :) Edit: This was previously ch. 1, but I decided I didn't love the pacing so this is now the prologue!

To My Lord-Father,

It has been well over a week's time since you’ve sent me- your dearest child- away. A few days time since I last felt the weight of the sun's warmth upon my skin. The overcast weather befitting of my current disposition and this city, nay, kingdom’s shortcomings compared to our beloved Dorne.

I arrived a few hours ago, though I swiftly left the company of King Jaehaerys and the rest of his court's brazen stares upon arrival… you’d think they had never seen a Dornishmen before. However, the reason being for my early retreat was not the scrutiny, rather that I don’t feel particularly well. You know I've never enjoyed sea travel, for it makes me sickly. Or this may just be my body’s desperate act of resistance against this poorly-conceived match you’ve sold me to. Be that as it may, it does not do to dwell as you would say.

I am willing to do this wretched duty as Princess of Dorne, to bring upon us a lasting peace. At the very least for Qoren’s sake, I suppose.

Though I am cross with you, I cannot say it isn’t regrettable to hear that your ailment has rendered you unable to make the journey to King’s Landing… your absence will be strongly felt, father. Just as it has been.

On a less glum note, I feel my dreadful spirits being lifted. It’s as if I can sense my brother's approach to the Blackwater Bay where I will eagerly await him on the morrow, perfectly on time for the ceremony.

I miss you and shall count the days until I am able to return home? Sunspear home to see you. Do not strain yourself while Qoren and I are away.

Best Regards, Your Daughter.

100 A.C

Had you been in your previous state of fury and pettiness, you might have crossed out “daughter” in favor of “forsaken issue”. Mayhaps if you had the energy at present, you would have.

While on the sea, you had been given much time before your grand entrance to reconcile yourself with your forlorn state of affairs. The reconciliation being overindulgence of barrels worth of Dornish Red on board. The “wedding” gift Qoren so thoughtlessly japed.

Your pitiful drunken outbursts in the privacy of your quarters, lest you cause any rumors before even arriving at the port. You would curse the day you were born, the day your father was born, the day his father before him.

Prince Daemon and his drunkard bride, a blessed match.

However, after the unremitting bouts of nausea ultimately won over your desire to numb your senses. Leagues away from the Dornish border and fast approaching your fate, your anger could not sustain you so wholly in the middle of the Narrow Sea.

Taking a moment from your trivial displeasure, you hunched over, placing your forehead to the wooden desk in your guest chambers with a thud. Holding yourself tightly as if that would dull the unpleasant rumble in your belly, rocking your body as the ship had mere hours ago.

A warm welcome to this shitpile of a city. You chuckled to yourself, to the empty room. You could only assume the things Qoren would say about this horrid place. How dull the walls were, the lack of open air. No bright colours and suns embellishing every piece of fabric.

He would make a wisecrack remark, “Oh how drab the Targaryen splendor is!”

Though he would say it in a far more humorous way. His asinine character a natural talent to a prick such as himself you believed.

Pushing yourself up with your ink covered hands, you groaned and ambled over to the opened window where the steady whistle of the wind entered. The moon was shrouded in the looming storm clouds, doing little to nothing in regards of illuminating the Red Keep’s disappointingly plain architecture (you may be biased) and the city below. If you gave too much focus, you might begin to smell the… aromas King’s Landing had to offer from all the way up here. None pleasant.

Your belly ached and gurgled as you thought back to the putrid smell that overwhelmed you as you were transported from the Blackwater Bay to the Red Keep.

Before you could dwell any longer, you sighed and shut the window tightly, nothing deemed interesting enough to watch anyways. Instead, your newfound anxieties find their way back to entertain you, the only thing keeping your company as of late.

You had a duty to keep, reminding yourself like a mantra.

Marriage alliances have been custom through the centuries in Westeros. Your own flesh born of political maneuvering and courtly expectations. Why was it now as you stood before your responsibility, your chest tightened at the very thought? At the briefest mention?

You did not like this, but it was your burden to bear. You had no wish to feel this way.

You could only conjure a faint image of the moment your brother unwillingly delivered your fathers verdict on your future. It had been a beautiful day, the gardens' serene quality creating a profusely deceptive sense of security.

Mayhaps it was the way your head was sent spinning immediately after the words left Qoren’s mouth? The rush of anger which possessed you? The way it caused you to barge into the council room, any trace of warmth or softness you commonly afforded to your father absent.

Nonetheless, it was all a blur of shouting, salty tears, pleas and comforts falling deaf to your ears. Whatever it was no longer clear to you.

Sighing, you begin to slip out of the dress you had travelled with, the hem of the sleeves stained from your letter writing.

You briefly considered stripping down to your undergarments and sleeping as such. Though, upon further deliberation you thought it best to wear a simple nightgown in accordance with the cold draft of the castle.

Slipping under the fur lined covers you couldn’t help the feeling that crept into the cavity of your chest. It burned within you, leaving a rancid taste in your mouth. This was it. Come this time tomorrow, you would not even belong to the house of your kin.

Wrapping the covers more firmly around your quaking form, it’s indiscernible whether the chill or your fear was the source.

“Daemon” You dared to whisper, willing yourself to speak the Targaryen Prince’s miserable name into the empty bedchamber. You did not like how it sounded on your tongue.

Do you feel this dread as I do?

“Does my Prince find himself in need of comfort?” The whore spoke out, reaching to graze the silver-haired Prince’s hand which held his third- fourth cup of wine.

Dornish Red Daemon had complained. He always favored Arbor Gold.

He had been in this place since the previous night, an angered promenade with a few of the guards he trained with on occasion. They laughed, feasted, fucked through the streets of King’s Landing without shame nor respect for the Prince’s wedding ceremony taking place on this very day.

Daemon did not deem it worthy of his attention. Let the King’s guard or whatever the fuck else other soldier his grandsire and father will send drag him from this place. He would stay put in the meantime, enjoying his time sunken in his whore and cup much more than he would with the Dornish wench they’ve bound him to.

Daemon smirked as his gaze ran down to the woman’s breasts shamelessly, watching the way her nipples hardened under the flimsy gown she wore. The cold winds from the opened window biting at her form in a delectable way.

When his eyes arrived back to her face his own violet eyes were met by her blue ones. Her unmistakable silver hair shining in the candlelight. This was what he was deserving of.

His previous visits to this particular establishment were met with loyalty by the owner. She spoke of a girl to his tastes. He was pleasantly surprised with the dragonseed waiting for him in the deeper parts of the building.

The sound of moans echoing from within the brothel, the lecherous men seeking reprieve from their lives by giving up their coin to service the women who milled about.

All the distractions which blared loudly in his ears could not distract his active mind as he drunkenly and loudly complained of his circumstances.

How could they expect him to sit idly by as they took his future into their hands. To marry him to a hot-blooded Dornishmen. The blood of the dragon does not dwell with sand people he had told his brother Viserys.

Slamming his now empty goblet to a random table, he allows the silver-haired woman to lead him to an empty couch amongst other patrons and working girls alike.

She pushes him to the couch and flicks her hair to the side. He leers at the beauty born of his house’s ardor. Her sharp features, tresses which reached her waist. Grabbing on to her with a firm hand, he pulled her down to his lap as a familiar need spread through his body. Deserving.

Daemon was not one to hold back his desires, and why should he? A dragon's blood is made of fire, and nothing burns hotter than a dragon's lust.

As she lightly grinded her hips against him, a familiar rising began

This is what he is deserving of. He had no need to see his intended, for he already knew what the Dornish were. Most certaining nothing he was interested in binding himself to.

“My Prince is most eager,” she breathily stated, her breath clipped as Daemon wasted no time fastening his mouth to hers, roughly coaxing his tongue into her mouth. “Your Prince needs a good fuck.” His tone husky, words slurring slightly. His lips breaking apart from hers, hands exploring her dress-clad form. A thin bit of fabric which he could make quick work of.

“Spend your night with me and it may be your best fuck yet, my prince…” Gods had he not been so displeased by his circumstances he would have taken to banter with this seductress. Would have let her worship him, and he would worship her in turn. However, the sound of the stitches on her flimsy gown ripping from his grip on her waist was a tell-tale sign this was no such night for that sort of intimacy. This was a night for animalistic intentions.

His hand greedily roamed the expanse of her soft skin, marks from previous patrons visible- he did not care. Her perfume almost nauseatingly strong. It did not matter.

The two were lip locked. Groans and heavy breaths as they practically merged into one another. The fervor of which Prince Daemon kissed at her skin, beautiful and unsightly.

If the Targaryen’s were believed to be closer to the gods then men, why was it that they crumbled all too similar to even those of the lowest birth who frequented these houses of ill-repute. For any who caught a glimpse of the young Prince and his company of the night, that very notion could be challenged as he desperately clutched on to any purchase of skin he could find, the need for anything pleasurable in this wretched day. Seeking solace in the arms of a beautiful woman with an underlying need to reclaim the power he deemed stolen from him.

Pulling back from the kiss, the woman latched her skillful lips to his pale skin. With a sharp inhale, Daemons went muscles taut at the way she nipped and licked at his skin.

“That’s it..”

A short groan escaped him as his hand went to cradle the back of her head, taking a handful of her hair. As he pushed her closer to his skin he could have sworn this woman was a witch.

When she began to palm him through his breeches he was sure. At the tender touch, his cock chubbed up. In the daze his eyes slowly peered at the sight before him, but before he could admire the feast laid before him another irritating sight caught his attention.

Another girl, distinctly sun-kissed skin that was certainly not from the gloomy skies of the Crownlands during the winter, and dark locks of hair forming waves down her back as she vigorously worked her mouth on another patron.

Before he is able to grit his teeth in annoyance, the silver-haired woman's dexterous hands continue to gently touch him through the fabric of his breeches, he momentarily has to toss his head back to let go of a deep breath, his drunken state causing a small whine to escape.

After a hearing a small giggle, he focuses back on his own pleasure and groping of the much more interesting beauty-

His eyes quickly peered back over to the other whore.

Damned Dornish. Worming their way into all facets of his life now? The thought made him want to scoff.

Dishonourable Dornish. Known throughout Westeros for their cowardly fight tactics, uses of poison.

More crudely also known for their lust, their thirst.

Daemon could not help that his wine-addled mind brought him back to his fucking betrothed. He wondered if the rumors held true. Daemon had fucked wenches prettier than a fair few of the noblewomen in court. He had no issue avoiding the bedding entirely if she happened to be one of the more plain featured.

Though, his fathers fury would know no bounds were he to not consummate the union, the key piece to such an "important" alliance... were it up to Daemon to provide council (which it very much wasn't) they would come to the walls of Sunspear atop Vhagar and Caraxes to subdue this folly entirely.

Would the Princess descend to her knees like the woman in his view? Gaze up at him in pleading to fulfill her bottomless appetite. His cock, his fingers, his tongue. After all how could such an insatiable creature react well to her own husband refusing to fuck her.

Gods he hoped she wasn't ugly.

If she was lucky enough, perceptive enough to beg, the Prince would jeeringly stroke her hair and whisper his taunts before pulling her on to him.

Were you the sort of woman able to take a man to his base? Or would you ask him to slow his pace?

Continuing to watch the Dornish woman, he allowed a groan to slip past his lips at both the ministrations of his paid companion and the sight before him.

The whore deftly performed. Perhaps you would try to please him with such fervor. Leave eager licks at his sack of stones as you indulged in such carnal desires. Delightedly hum as you suckled at his tip.

“You distract yourself, mighty dragon” His companion interrupted while grabbing his face on either side. Had his body not already been ready to boil over, it certainly was now at her words. A mighty dragon he was.

Shaking his head, he centers his thoughts back on to the woman whose legs were dangled across his thighs. Unbearably hard, he ached to see her bare. And with that desire came the end of her cheap gown. He ripped the fabric down the middle, her chest now on full display for him to enjoy.

Unfortunately for his poor intoxicated attention span, the loud sound of squelching hit his ears and he could not resist the temptation to look back.

He watched as the man hungrily began to leverage his position over the other woman, choosing to forgo her teasing in favor of fucking her mouth.

Daemon wouldn't do that- not like that. His mind wandered off again. A place where a Dornish Princess sat between his legs determined to inch-by-inch feed his cock into her hole. No, he would let her tease. He would let her and then when he no longer wished to, she wouldn't need to try so hard anymore. For he would begin to snap his hips forward to make up for what she couldn’t. Breaking that infamous Dornish resistance by forcing her poor throat to adapt to the too-large intrusion.

He would relish in wounding the Martell pride after all, justifiable revenge for his own. The only thing he may be granted in this ridiculous union.

He would be gentle and rough all the same, mocking through it all.

The whore clearly knew what she was doing, patiently and prettily sitting there while suctioning her cheeks, bobbing along with the rhythm. He would have let her work a little longer before devolving so fast as the man had. To each their own.

He didn’t know if it was the view or the feeling of his pants being unlaced which had him beginning to sweat.

Would his bride sit as pleasantly he wondered or would fat tears slip down her cheeks at the bombardment? Too overwhelming for the likes of a noblewoman. Or perhaps she would prove to be the opposite and enjoy such treatment, utterly unbefitting to her station.

Would her own cunt glisten as the whore's does in pleasure, calling to him as if it was of the utmost fascination? Would her spittle drip down from her face to her thighs? Would they be rubbing together in need as he buried himself deeper. Her body ready to entrap him should he lose his wits to a viper of all things. A little thing trying to fool a dragon.

In a matter of seconds, the man's tempo slowed significantly as his legs began to weakly quake. Taking this opportunity, she sped up, and as if sensing this she pulled off. Jerking his manhood over her face while looking at him with a sultry stare, he turned away bashfully, his peak quick.

Daemon would have pulled the Princess the whore close, nuzzling her nose to the very base of him where his silver hairs grow. Shaft as far as it could be. He would watch as her eyes grew hazy from the closeness, from the seed which slithered down her throat.

If you are pretty enough, he would find no shame in returning the favour. A lusty Princess, certainly a rarity left unseen by him (lest he recounts the stories of his denounced aunt Saera Targaryen).

If the rumors of the Dornish are anything to go by, a pretty girl with loose legs was the best he could expect out of these circumstances. At worst, another person which he would dutifully ignore and loath as best he could.

Without taking notice, the woman on his lap gestured the Dornish whore over, slipping her hands away from Daemon’s.

Before the husband-to-be could object to the separation, the two women dragged him bare and ready to a more private chamber in the back grabbing a pitcher of wine on the way.

Dornish Red.

You had been quick to rouse from your rest, your body protesting the sounds of the morn outside of your door. A clear indication it was time for you to rise. You struggled, it was not as if sleep came easily to you the night before, nor effectively when it befell you for that matter.

But as the sharp knock of your maid came to the locked wooden door of your chambers there was no escape. Your paranoia comes back to bite you as you were forced to trudge over, utterly unready to face the homely, friendly woman you had taken with you from Dorne.

After opening the door and curt pleasantries are exchanged, your hair is made to a neat style and you are helped into a fine dress suiting the chilly weather.

Had you been at home you would have opted for expensive lace and airy fabrics. You’d be bejewelled and by the prudish standards of King’s Landing, “scantily” dressed. Though, you’d bid the Lord’s and Lady’s of this court to attempt a summer in Sunspear wearing their usual constricting and heavy fabrics.

Running your hands over the tightly corseted waist, the maid speaks up while collecting loose items marring the tidy space.

“The discomfort is a small price to pay. Should you be beholden to Prince Daemon this morning, he will think you stunning in such a piece.”

Raising a brow to her comment on the Prince’s… likes, you speak semi-irate. “Does the Prince enjoy his women light-headed and immobile then?”

You knew little of Daemon beyond the rumors which circulated about him, let alone enough to presume his tastes.

A second-born child just as you were, he was a knight described as tall and hardened where his brother Viserys was more plump.

You oft fantasized of what it would be to truly be with a fighter. Now faced with the possibility of being bound to a glory-hungry Targaryen, you could not find in yourself the same excitement you felt when studying the soldiers of Dorne. In fact, it would not be a stretch to say there was faint distress.

You studied the woman's reflection in the mirror and she looked at you once and then twice over.

“Ah!” The maid scampers over to where your jewelry is laid and brings a gold albeit simple necklace. Strapping it around your neck she claps her hands together softly.

Deeming her work satisfactory, she meets your eye once more with a commiserating stare.

“If that will be all Princess?”

“That will be all.”

She bowed and left without another word. Your unpleasant behavior was something anyone employed by your father to serve you in King’s Landing had begun to become accustomed to. Their good Princess grows bitter in the absence of the sun.

With a sigh, you turn when you hear a knock at the door. It is then you see your ever stoic knight Ser Edmyn.

With tan skin and hair that was but a wisp, he was an experienced fellow. Even with old age the knight was able to keep up with any man half his years. An imposing size and frightening demeanor alone enough to ward any undesirables away. One of the best in Dorne deemed the best protection for his Princess.

“Good morning Ser Edmyn.” You smiled small while approaching him at the door, (un)ready to leave the safety and solitude of your bedchambers.

“Good morning, Princess.” He smiled small back. A pleasantry which was reserved for you.

As the both of you fall into step you continue to speak while observing the bustle of the corridors, decorations coming to and from even in this wing of the castle. “It is busy today. I suppose all this chaos is to be expected...”

“There is to be a royal wedding after all. Though I deduce you would not like to be reminded.”

With a chuckle you shake your head “No, ser, I do not. However, I would like to pick your brain for what you know of my brother's arrival. I would like to be there as soon as his boat is, I am most excited to see him again.”

“It is to my knowledge that your brother will not arrive until noon.”

With an aimless hum you keep your eyes trained ahead, lest you embarrass yourself with the anxious expression on your face. A few more unbearable hours until they are made just a slight bit better. Mayhaps Qoren will be able to bring a spot of light to this dreary city.

After a few minutes of allowing Ser Edmyn to lead you, you recognize the faint smell of food. Gods it has been a time since you last ate. On cue, you begin to salivate over the thought of a freshly cooked meal.

An unfamiliar voice interferes with your fantasies, coming to a stop in front of you with a polite smile. “Princess,” The servant bowed respectfully, clearly in a hurry. “her royal highness Princess Aemma requests you join her to break fast.”

Looking at Edmyn with annoyance displayed, he only responds with an inappreciable shrug. Mayhaps the woman would further rub your nose in all of this bother. This family has ruined your happiness, they may as well ruin your meal.

Offering the servant a reluctant nod, he stiffly leads you and your protector to a dining room.

Bowing, the servant leaves after delivering you in front of your destination and Ser Edmyn takes his place on the wall outside of the opened door. Pushing all the thoughts from your head you assume a neutral expression as you walked into the room.

Without so much as looking at Aemma’s face, you nod your head with respect due to someone of her status. “Princess Aemma.”

It was when you heard a soft babble, your mind went soft. You tilt your head back up to see Aemma giving you a bright smile and you spot a girl no more than three in her arms.

“Or… Princess’s, apologies.”

“Princess,” your name slipping from her lips as she wrangled her wriggling daughter. “No need for such apologies. I hope I did not interrupt your busy morning!” She spoke with jollity, as if this was a day which deserved such joys.

“Not at all. I’ve yet to eat anything. Nothing to tend to until my brother Qoren’s arrival.” You mustered a friendly looking smile, trying (and failing) to reciprocate the amiable spirit of the Arryn.

“Come. sit, sit!” grabbing hold of her daughter's wrist, she gently waved it in your direction, “Say hello Rhaenyra.” she told her daughter, the two letting out a little giggle at the contact.

“Helloooo” The girl playfully obliged.

As you sat down, you could not fail to take note of the way her silver hair and violet eyes stood out amongst all of it. A true little Targaryen.

You presumed they all started this lovely. One could almost forget they grew to be wicked dragonlords.

Unknowing of your distasteful thoughts, Aemma continued putting the young Princess in her chair as the help served her up a plate.

“I figured it would be pleasant for the both of us to meet in a more intimate setting. You left so briskly the past night, I could not introduce myself. I do hope you were able to remedy the travel sickness you mentioned?” She turned her head upwards to you.

“Yes… pleasant.” You continued, “sleep always proves to be the best cure to my ill-state.”

Bang!

You jumped at the sound. How pleasant to dine to the sounds of the young Princess whacking silverware to the wood.

“Feed mummy! Food!” she whined.

Without casting a glance to Rhaenyra, Aemma places a light hand to her little fists to placate the girl. “Patience Rhaenyra… Apologies, my girl is quite insistent.” As the beginnings of cries begin to persist, Aemma turns to Rhaenyra with a soft smile.

Motherly.

“What do we say Rhaenyra?”

“No Mummy! Feed!”

Aemma giggles a bit before continuing. “Kostilus. Say it my girl, say what your father taught you. Kos-til-us.”

With a final resistant pout, red-faced and desperate to be fed, the girl parrots her mother. “Kostiles!” Rather she tries to.

At her daughter yielding and speaking this mystery word, Aemma begins to spoon feed her, attention returning back to you.

“It means please in High Valyrian. Viserys, Prince Baelon… Daemon, they are all fluent. ‘Tis quite important that a Targaryen is fluent in the mother tongue.”

You hum in agreement as you take a sip of your drink. The ancestral tongue of cruel war instigators. Fitting.

“I must say how wonderful it is that Prince Qoren will come! I’m sure you are very happy to see him on such a special occasion.”

You thank the server who set out a plate with something of palatable substance compared to the meals you were served on the sea.

Taking a few bites of the food, you will yourself slow down, responding after you’ve swallowed. “Yes, such a… special day.” You gulped and barely held back your grimace.

In need of a different topic, you continue. “But to say I am very happy would be phrasing it far too mildly. I am quite fond of my brother. We are inseparable and it has been strange to be without him for so long.”

“It must be hard to be away from him, especially… in a place so different.” You see a flicker of sympathy in her gaze as she turns to gently wipe at Rhaenyra’s mouth with a cloth.

You watch as she mothers her daughter with the same soft gaze. You did not need someone years your younger looking at you as if you were a lost lamb, it only caused your annoyance to be inflamed.

“Yes, well, as is my duty.” You responded in a way which sounded more clipped than you intended.

In spite of sensing your blunt tone, Aemma continues cooly. “I myself am not close to my half-siblings. They are all quite a bit older than me. I was never lucky enough to have a relationship like the one you describe.” She smiled wistfully. “I do hope in the near future Rhaenyra will be able to have such a bond.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered down to your empty finger. The tan line a reminder of your gold signet ring. Yet another thing you reluctantly miss.

Your annoyance softens at Aemma’s kind words and the reminder of your “lucky bond” with your brother as you decide to initiate a question. “Did you like Vale? I have never visited.” You asked, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh yes! It would snow in the winter, sometimes so hard one could mistake for Winterfell! And in the spring the prettiest flowers would bloom! Little blue ones all around. It all becomes a little blurry as time passes on-”

You felt your heart skip once as she carried on. Would it be you one day dining with someone, talking of Dorne as a memory?

“But of course I've been in King’s Landing since I was a girl of eleven. I’ve built a fondness for this home as well.”

That caused you to pause.

What a horrible thing to be ripped from your home at such a young age.

Taking another bite of your food, you watch as she continues to prattle on about how “pleasant” King’s Landing could be if you looked closely. Gulping down your food, it is your turn to look at her with sympathy.

As you both goalessely chat with occasional interruptions from Rhaenyra, the topic of your intended is breached even with your skillful avoidance.

“He is not as bad as people say, you know. Just… passionate. He is kind to Rhaenyra and I. He loves his brother very much. Perhaps he could make…” Aemma’s voice wanes off as she thinks on her next words.

A part of her wanted to reassure you by saying “a fine match.” However, she did not wish to sour this new amity by feeding you lies. You were going to be her sister and you did not seem like the type to take kindly to blatantly dishonest consolation. It was not right.

Not when she had heard the cruel way Daemon had spoken about you to Viserys only nights ago.

“A tolerable match.”

You were a nice girl… angry perhaps. She found herself hoping vainly Daemon would not ruin you.

“How reassuring Princess.” you chuckled, allowing yourself to go lax a bit.

And how this delighted Aemma. “Having said that, I do not think you will have to… concern yourself with him before the ceremony.” she grinned quietly.

“That disappoints me so.”

Amidst the comfortable silence which ensued, you’re interrupted by Ser Edmyn.

“Princess, I’m sorry for the intrusion. Your brother's ship approaches the Bay. I thought it important to inform you, we will need to leave soon if you wish to welcome him.”

Aemma could see your harsh air lighten evidently. The announcement of your true brother's arrival bewitching you with a smile of what looked to be perfect glee.

You shot up from your seat immediately, pivoting towards the Princesses. “I do hope you forgive my abrupt departure, but I-”

“Go! It is fine. I look forward to meeting Prince Qoren!” She simpered.

Without another word, you were in the buzzing hallways of the Red keep. “Make haste Ser Edmyn!” You laughed as you picked up your skirts, bursting with joy that even the constraints of this damned corset could not stop you.

Had this been a few hours ago, spotting the orange Martell banners carried alongside Targaryen, flowers, and chairs you might have been sent into a dizzy spell. You just might the moment you arrive back at the castle. Not now though. For now, your brother was here!

After a brief carriage ride you are offered a hand by your knight as he gently leads you down. Uncaring of the light rain which splattered over your new dress, you stumbled upon the stones which littered the shore as you raced to catch a glimpse of the vessel.

Your heart threatened to burst and for the first time since you arrived, you graced King’s Landing with the brightest of smiles. A smile meant for the ship which flew the familiar sun, spear striking it through.

You had been angry and bitter, but that did not change the simple fact that you longed to be in the presence of your brother. Desperately. You wished to put all of this nasty business behind you and embrace him as family again.

As the ship grew closer, you began to register the faces of the crew. How vain he was. Hiding from a bit of rain, no doubt to avoid soiling his clothes.

Today would be a miserable loss, but perhaps a bearable one now.

The ship docked and you were growing restless. As two familiar Lord’s, advisors to your father, disembarked you wasted no time in approaching them.

You looked a mess. Tightly bound hair damp, your dress dragging in the wet sand but it simply was no matter to you.

As the advisors took you in, you assumed it was your disarrayed appearance which caused the apprehensive air.

“My Lords, I do hope the journey was all well!” You chirped.

They bowed in greeting, the uneasy look they exchanged going unnoticed. “Quite well, my Princess.”

“I do hope my brother is not fussing over the rain in there. ‘Tis somber all the time here, he must grow used to it. As will both of you I'm sure.”

…

“I am…” Taking a breath in, one of the men paused observing your blissfully ignorant expression. “Prince Qoren sends his sincerest regrets, but he will be absent-”

Your smile dropped as quick as it had appeared. He continued speaking and you stopped listening. Absent.

Absent.

He spoke of duty, he spoke of loyalty. And where was he on this most “auspicious” day. Was each and every reassurance a callous means of pacifying your temper? The fucking traitor. The whole lot of them. Your brother, your father, his council, your home for gods sake! By their will, cast into the fire while they reap the spoils of peace.

What of your peace? Was he so cruel as to not see you off in gratitude for your sacrifice? He was no “exalted” viper, he was a snake.

“... Princess?” One of the advisors questioned, most like realizing your inattention to his excuses on Qoren’s behalf.

Your vacant stare focuses back to the man as you furiously willed your tears to stay put. He sighs and looks at you with pity, aware of your blaring disappointment.

Pulling something from under his cloak, the Lord outstretched his hand with a brown piece of parchment, little water droplets staining the paper as the rain began to intensify. “He tasked us with delivering this to you… it seemed-”

“That is all.”

“Princess…”

Snatching the letter up, you fixed them with a hard glare, a weak manifestation of the anger which seethed within you. A letter. His consolation was even pathetic.

As the two men hurried off, you opened the letter, uncaring of the way the rain lashes at your frame now, the overcast beach full of people hurrying off of the boat.

Dear Sister,

I take no joy in writing this note, for it is with remorse that I must tell you I am unable to attend your wedding ceremony, nor visit you in King’s Landing hereafter. I know you will be angry and I am sorry. I am so very sorry and I beg of you to not lose heart, to not be frightened. I beseech you to accept my lamentable apologies and understand this is not how I wished this day to go.

-Qoren

You cared not for the rest, only the reaffirmation of your brother's non-attendance. As the rain slid down, your tears mingled with the droplets. Crumpling the letter, you allowed it to drop down in the sand, watching it slowly turn soft from harsh rainfall.

Abandoned by your own family, the gods and men would bear witness to your entrapment.

#daemon x reader #hotd fanfiction #daemon targeryan #hotd #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #daemon fanfic

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meganmeyers · 4 months ago

Text

POMEGRANATES & WINES

ACT TWO: DRIFTWOOD THRONE

jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targtower oc

word count: 11.5k

previous part: part one

masterlist: intro

warnings/includes: fighting, internalized religious trauma, body dystrophia, angst, self loathing, psychological trauma, alicent is an awful mother and gives averillia all her issues, sexual awakening (not smut she’s like a little baby still.), eye fucking across the dinner table but not really and it’s really awkward, jacaerys causes intense sexual tension but doesn’t realize it because he’s kinda an idiot, averillia is lowkey a freak and severely touch starved, but she’s also afraid of intimacy(?), jacaerys is also a freak but he’s a teenage boy going though puberty so cut him some slack, first kiss, borderline freakiest kiss between two hormonal mid puberty teens i’ve ever seen.

Summary: Princess Averillia Targaryen was the 5th born child of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower in 117 A.C. Close in age to her nephew Jacaerys Velaryon a close friendship formed in between the two vicious families.

Note: Hello everyone! Thank you for the love on the first part! I’ll mention now that this part will get into some more darker themes. I’ll probably be rewriting the first part of this series as well, I’ve felt that I could have added more to the story than what I had done. Also! This next part is not canon timeline accurate! Instead of six years it will be four years!

Princess Averillia was not seen by the royal court much after the incident at Driftmark. The Princess was hidden in her rooms or upon the skies with her dragon mount. Nobody saw the young princess roam the halls of the Keep or even attend meetings of the court. Some believed that Queen Alicent Hightower had locked her away in her bedroom as a punishment for being involved in the maiming of Prince Aemond Targaryen. As if the princess receiving her first ever course was not enough humiliation for the young girl. The people only saw the princess when she was dragged to the Sept by her mother. During those rare times in public the princess did not ever look happy, more terrified in fact. She would stand as far behind or away from the Queen as appropriately possible. The maids in the Keep gossip on how the only people ever seen entering and leaving the princesses apartments were her personal maids and the lady in waiting she was given. Some noble girl from the Dornish lands of house Dayne, quiet the spectacle considering the relations between Dorne and the conflicts in the stepstones against the crown. The girl was no older than ten maybe when she arrived to the Keep. She was a small girl who was quiet and always kept her head down, the queen must have liked her quiet nature to keep her around in the Keep after these many moons. The only thing the small Dornish girl received from home was pomegranates. The reddish and pink fruit grows in warmer and dryer climates. The girl did receive many fabrics and dresses at times, but no letters or ravens ever arrived for the young lady, many in the court speculated something scandalous happened but in Dorne and that’s why the young girl was sent to serve in enemy territory.

“My Lady, you mustn’t stain your dress now! I don’t need to hear anymore from your maids about how awful it is the try and scrub the juice from your skirts!”, The young darker haired lady complained to the princess. The young princess turned to look at the girl from her couch, “How many times have I told you Elia! It’s Illia to you not ‘My Lady’. You are my only friend not someone my mother and father employs.”. “Friend or not, you still mustn’t stain your dresses.”, The young girl hit the princess on the top of her head with a letter. The darker girl made herself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch across from the blonde princess.

“I’ve found some news that shall brighten your day. Possibly get you to stop lounging around your room, draped in fabrics that barley cover you.”, The girl had teased the princess for her habits. She did indeed lounge around in her room draped in fabrics Elia’s family sent her. Modesty was lost on her return from Driftmark, especially after the princess had Elia arrive as a lady in waiting for her services. The two girls had shared stories with one another during the early nights in each other’s company. Elia had told her about how women and men dress and act down in Dorne and the differences of women and men here in the crownlands. Averillia had found the stories fascinating and thought the fabrics in the dresses Elia wore were the softest fabrics she’d ever felt. The princess often wore the fabrics in lounge wear or had them made into the underskirts of her dresses. The fabrics were very sheer, only to be worn in the privacy of her personal staff.

“What news do you bring me that will, as you say brighten my day?”, Illia ended her sentence in a sarcastic tone. “Court is to be held on the legitimacy in the driftwood throne on who will inherit, now that the sea snake has fallen ill. W-“ The lady had been interrupted by the princess letting out a loud and annoyed sound of disgust. She rolled herself off the couch and over to the table filled with drinks and other treats to pour herself a glass of wine. “Must you drink now? Gods Illia, its barley mid-day and I haven’t even finished the news. You may grow a gut like Aegon’s if you intend to drink this much.”. Illia turned around towards the girl who now leaned over the arm of the couch she had just been resting upon, a disgusted face greeted the girl when the princess turned. “Never compare me to that disgusting drunkard again! Gods do you hate me so to wish that fate upon me?”. Elina had rolled her eyes at Illia’s dramatics and just went back to the letter, “Because court is to be held, the princess Rhaenyra’s family will be arriving in Kings Landing on the marrow and be staying for a weeks’ time while court is being held. Isn’t that exciting Illia? You’ll get to see Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, and-“, “I’ll have to watch my mother and grandsire completely belittle my sister and nephews again because of some resentment my mother and sister hold. Sounds like another fight waiting to break out again.”. The blonde took a long drink from the glass of wine she poured, “Illia why can’t you see the good in this? All you do every day is lounge around and read books or work on silly needle work.”. “My needle work isn’t silly! You’ve told me many times that it’s beautiful and quiet elegant and that its even more elegant than Helaena’s work!”.

Elina was often seen asking the Queen for permission to either leave the castle grounds for errands for the princess or sitting in court without the princess to hear of what news and gossip is shared among the ladies in high court. While she’s out she does often run into the Queen in Princess Helaena’s chambers with the two young children the princess carried. She’s seen the beautiful needlework Illia’s sister created that decorates the twin children’s clothes and blankets during her few times in the chambers of the elder princess.

“Illia can you at least try and see the good in this? For an entire week you get to visit with your eldest sister and those two boys of hers who adore you! So quit being such a poisonous viper and enjoy their company while they are here.”

“Fine. Whatever, but if my mother makes any comment- “, “Oh gods Illia! I’ll be right there with you, I won’t let you face that cruel women alone.”

The family arrived half by ship and the other half by dragon back on the following marrow. The dragon shadows that had flown past her windows confirmed the princess’s waiting’s.

Two carriages had pulled into the courtyard of the Red Keep while the Princess was seen sprinting and hopping steps in a blur of light blue, white, and golden honey blonde with her Lady following in close proximity in a blur of dark blues and gold with black hair flying behind her.

The family was exiting their carriages, while waiting for them was the Queen dressed in a dark color of green and her three other children dressed in the similar shades of greens. Other members of the court stood waiting to greet the royal family. As they had settled themselves on the ground and had their traveling cloaks and dress covers removed, they turned back to the members of the court. The doors of the castle opened quickly and an out of breathe Princess Averillia and an equally out of breath Lady Elia Dayne had rushed to stand in line with the green-styled family. Frantically adjusting their hair and dresses, trying to at least be a bit more presentable.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon wouldn’t have recognized the princess if it wasn’t for her opposed color palette to the rest of her family. Her hair had gotten longer, and her face slimmed out of the childish fat he had last seen her with. She had truly grown into a more women body for a girl at the age of three and ten. Her hips had widened, and her breasts had gotten into a larger womanly shape, but they might just only look bigger compared to the slimness of the rest of her, he could see her collarbones from across the courtyard and her ribs were slightly visible through her gown. She was still beautiful, nevertheless to him. The girl next to her was a girl he did not know. She was a slightly darker skinned girl with black hair and purple eyes, she looked Dornish, but the eyes did not resemble the color of Dornish people. She had on a gown of dark blue fabrics with golden lace decorations and goldish color necklaces and headwear. She had a dark blue veil on as well. He did not recall a girl that looked like her during his years at the Keep.

“Princess Rhaenyra! Welcome back to Kings Landing. I hope the journey here was not to much trouble?”

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was dressed in a dark red gown decorated with black trims and lace; in her arms she held a bundle wrapped in a blanket. Prince Daemon Targaryen stood next to her holding a small white-haired boy, Illia had heard the news of her sister and uncles’ marriage but nothing about children born of said marriage. Next to them four children stood, three boys with black hair and a girl with white curly hair wrapped into a updo that looked like something Illia would not sit through. Her eyes had turned to Jacaerys, He had grown sense she’d seen him last. He had gotten taller and slimmed himself down, his jaw was more angled than before and his cheeks he had were gone. His hair was short but had curled locks upon it rather than the thick fluff of hair he used to have. He was holding a small boy who also had dark hair, it had to be Joffrey Velaryon. She remembers seeing him the day of his birth but never again, not even at Driftmark four years ago.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It is unexpected to be back so soon.”, Queen Alicent had given a smile and quickly rushed her children dressed in greens back inside with members of the court following, leaving only Averillia and Elina in the courtyard. The princess waited for the doors to be closed before starting off sprinting at Jace. The teen prince quickly handed his younger brother to Rhaena before capturing the golden-haired princess in a tight embrace. He had taken a couple staggered steps back at the force of the impact from the teenage princess but nevertheless held her close. A few laughs were heard from the elder couple at the princess’s excitement. Lady Elina had walked up to the royal family offering her greetings.

“Princess Averillia, I believe there are other members of the party who also wish to greet you.”, the princess had loosed her embrace on the teenage boy and turned to her friend with a very unamused face, which in turn made the lady laugh at her friend before pointing her head towards the eldest sister. Illia had broken herself from Jace’s arms and walked to Rhaenyra and hugged her, avoiding crushing the small bundle in her arms. “Is this your mothers old dress, little sister?”, the girl had given a small smile before confirmed her eldest sisters’ suspicions.

“Come sweet girl, we must catch up. It’s been far to long sense we’ve spoken.”

The family had gotten comfortable in the elder princess’s old apartments, maids had hurried to bring in sweets and refreshments for the royal family before making their leaves quickly.

“Now sister who are these two children? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced!”. “This one is Aegon, and the newest one is Viserys.” Rhaenyra had passed her sister the small infant to hold. Elina leaned over Illia’s shoulder to look at the infant closely. The babe slept peacefully in the princess’s arms, “Sister when shall you have a girl? You’ve had far too many boys, I may be sick of seeing boys between my brothers and your sons.”. Rhaenyra laughed at her sisters jokes knowing in truth she was correct. Jace and Luke who had been sitting on the opposite couch let out a few remarks back towards the princess who in turn just poked her tongue out of her mouth. “Now who is this lady sitting next to you, Illia? I’m afraid I don’t recognize her.”

“I am Elina Dayne, of House Dayne in Dorne, Your Grace. I am Lady in Waiting to Princess Averillia Targaryen, Your Grace.”, Illia turned to her friend with only a few words to reply. “Quit calling me Averillia, It’s to much of a mouthful.”. The family had all laughed at the girls’ antics, “She is also my only friend and companion here in this dreadful place. Isn’t that right Viserys?”. The girl had talked to the young babe in a silly voice to try and entertain the babe, but he just kept sleeping peacefully. “Sister, I must retire now. I have lessons to attend, and Gods forbid I miss them.” The princess handed her youngest nephew back to her eldest sister before making her way out the door.

“Elina, you can run any errands you need too. My lessons will take up much of my time.”. The dark haired girl nodded before going in the opposite direction of the princess through a different corridor. The girl made haste to her own apartments after her friend left her sight. Closing the door of her room closed, she found nobody inside her chambers. “Thank the Gods.”. Illia had looked towards her desk at the stack of papers, scrolls, and books from her Septa. She hated many topics they taught her, they bored her entirely. She would rather fall upon a sword than be stuck learning forever.

Her complaining would not make the books and scrolls go away anyways, she has learned that the harder way. She just grabbed her needle hoop and went back to the blanket she was decorating. She found a place along one of her rooms windows and had gotten comfortable. The window gave her a clear view of the training yard which was always much of an annoyance hearing the men yell and the metal hit against one another constantly but it’s different when she caught a glimpse of Jace and Luke standing along the outskirts. Even from up high she could see how much Jace had changed in the last four years. He had indeed grown into a handsome man. His curly hair did amplify his looks and aided well with his face shape. Gods she has not seen a man look so handsome in years, or possibly ever. His Valyrian features was one of the seller points for her sudden attraction towards him, his jaw, cheek bones, and the dark purple eyes had made him look even more like someone to belong to the Gods than with Man. She did wonder what was hidden under his doublet, did he also lose the boyish fat and built muscle along his upper torso and arms? Did the Gods bless him with such beauty for the rest of him as they had for just his face?

“Ouch!”

She had stuck herself with the sewing needle in her realm of thinking. Blood droplets quickly collected to the surface on her finger and dripped down to the floor.

“You foolish girl! You’ve ruin yourself for your future!”

She flung herself from the cushions she had been sitting on and quickly examined the cushion. No blood.

Those were the last words Alicent ever said to her. Months after the incident Alicent could not even be in the same room as her, she would just walk out of the room or have someone remove Averillia from the room. It was always one of Alicent’s maids to enforce her to get dressed to go to the Sept with her after she had gotten over herself. The entire trip she would not speak a word to her. She would just give the girl certain looks when she would do certain things. Dinners had turned sour fast, if the girl spoke any words or do anything unproper she would give Averillia this intense stare. If Alicent was angry enough she had the guards remove her from the table and sent to her chambers without being able to finish her meal. Soon she had started to be subjected to eating alone in her chambers. Isolated completely. Sometimes her father would have her join him for a meal in his chambers where they would have small discussions; but his condition has worsened, and he was unable to make it to the table. She was soon invited to her fathers’ chambers just for discussions, but her mother soon found out and forbade her from attending her own fathers company.

Complete Isolation.

After Driftmark her Septa, this older woman whose chin hung far over her neck covering; had taken her to the Sept for prayer, but not the normal prayer. Prayers that had talks of purity and virtue and how sacred such a gift is, how giving it to a man you’re not married to will destroy you. How the stranger will take you away and burn you for your sins. Pleasure and lust were sins against the Gods and blood was the punishment and shame for such a girl to bear if she ever thought and engaged in such sins. The girl cried during such prayers and sermons for still being shaken up by the events just mere weeks earlier. She had been isolated from her sister Helaena during this too. “She is to be a married women and lay with her husband before the Gods as a virgin maiden. Do not corrupt her as you have done for yourself.” She had not been allowed to Helaena’s wedding either due to that fact. She had that Septa for two years until Averillia had knocked over a lit candle stand causing the Septa to catch fire and soon strike the girl across the face with her hand. Her father had removed the Septa from the princesses’ services and replaced her with younger and peaceful Septa. She would sit and work on needlework while Averillia worked on her own studies and never brought her to the Sept for prayer.

Aemond would not speak to her ever. He never admitted to the truth of what happened that night either. The only family member she was able to speak to was Daeron. She would send ravens at least once every few weeks to him in Oldtown considering he was the only sibling who would even speak to her. She had the fear that her mother was going to ship her away to Oldtown for what she had done but her father did not allow it. Her grandsire Otto never spoke to her, even so he never did before anyways. He just hid in the shadows along the walls like a spider in a dark corner.

Illia was used to so little company that she did not need any at all.

Elina had returned hours later carrying in gowns and a bright smile, “Illia! You will never believe it.”. The girl had taken the gowns and thrown them on the couch before joining Illia on the mattress. “Rhaenyra had stopped me in the corridor, and she had insisted that you join her family for supper tonight! We must get you ready!”. Before Illia could even refuse the offer, Elina had dragged the girl from her bed to her washroom to an already filled tub of warm water. “Take off your clothes before I wash you with them still on!”

Elina had scrubbed her skin and covered her with soaps and oils with warm scents from the Dornish lands. She dried the princess and then started her hair and using even more oils to have her curls be more prominent. She had seen Elina do it to her own hair but never hers. Elina had made her standby her long mirror exposed before going and finding a gown suited from the ones she had just picked up today. Illia had laughed at her friends’ antics before turning back to the mirror. She looked at herself before moving downwards. “Elina? Have my ribs always been this exposed?” No answer came. She had traced each individual rib under her breast, and her collar bones had now shown more prominently than before. Elina had come back with arms filled with a pile of dark blue and gold fabric. “It’s the perfect gown.”. The gown was of golden fabric underneath dark blue, a long train skirt and sleeves that draped from her elbows to mid skirt. Gold needle work lined the trim of the gown. Elina insisted on a golden belt for her waist and a golden pendant for a necklace.

A knock came from the door of her chambers to which both girls had whipped their heads too. Elina quickly rushed to see who had been outside and in hush whispers had spoken to the stranger outside. The girl beckoned Illia to join her at the door. She opened the door wider to find not one but two boys standing before the doorway. Lucerys Velaryon and Jacaerys Velaryon were standing outside her chamber doors. Lucerys was dressed in a lighter blue doublet, similar to the color of her dress earlier in the day, with white tunic sleeves. Silver detail covered the doublet. Jacaerys had on a black doublet, it was more fitted than Lucerys was. The shoulders had been more set to give him a wider frame and black detailing lined the collar and chest. Dark black fabric hung from one should and across his back in a cape like motion. It complemented him more than the black and red doublet he had on during his arrive. Jacaerys hair had been put more together than after his journey on dragon back here. It also hung in defined curls, hardly longer than the nape of his neck and past his ears. He did not stink of dragon either, he smelled of salt and smoke in a way. He looked even more handsome up closely than at a distance from her window.

“My Lady, the princes have come here to escort you to dinner.”, Elina had given her a look before gently guiding her out the door. Jacaerys had been the first to offer his arm to her with a slight bow of his head, “My Lady, would you be so forgiving in allowing my brother and I to escort you to dinner this evening?”. Staring at him with wide eyes she had only given a nod before taking Jaceaery’s arm in hers. Lucerys was quick to take her other arm, putting her in the middle of the two brothers. “Well then, we shall be off My Lady.”

Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Rhaena were the only other ones in attendance for supper that evening. Jacaerys had led her to her seat and pulled her chair out before pushing it in and making his way back around to the other side of the table to sit across from her. Rhaenyra was sat to her left and Rhaena was sat to her right, while Daemon and Lucerys sat across from them. Cups of wine were poured for the parents and two older children while water was given to the younger two. Maids and Servants filled the families’ plates with meats and vegetables. The family had started to quietly eat their portions of the meal while Averillia sat with her hands in her lap. She had touched nothing in fear of angering her sister or her uncle.

“Illia? Are you not going to eat?” The girl’s attention went to Jace who had been putting his wine glass back down, staring intensely directly at her. He had licked his lips getting off the dark red wine residue that had been left behind. Rhaenyra had looked to the girl and she had looked guilty of being caught of something. “Illia? Sweet girl, are you alright?”, the older women grabbed the girls hand to get her attention. Her head whipped quickly to her and ripped her hand away, starting her in the process. “I- I am sorry!”, the younger princess was quick to say aloud. “Illia, you have done no wrong to warrant an apology. I was just making sure you are feeling well, you have not touched anything on your plate.” The older women ran her hand over her younger sister’s hair in attempt to comfort her. “Oh, sorry ‘Nyra. I was just simply lost in a thought.” The girl had quickly picked up her fork and started to pick at some of the vegetables on her plate. The women had not quiet believed the girl, especially when a young servant boy had walked up from behind Daemon and whispered a few words into his ear while he filled the older prince’s glass of wine. Daemon’s lips had tightened into a fine line before he drank more of his wine. A conversation was indeed meant to happen later about what had been shared.

“Father? When will Baela and Grandmother be joining us?” Rhaena was quick to change the topic of conversation, “On the marrow before court is to be held.”. “Oh Averillia! You must show me your needlework, I was told you have quiet the talent for it.” The white blonde had turned herself towards the golden blonde during her talk, “Please Rhaena call me, Illia. We’re family.” The girl drank from her glass of wine while the younger girl let out a giggle and falling back against her chair. Illia had forgotten the girl next to her was only two and ten. Such behavior was to happen, even if Illia was only a year older than her.

The girl had gone back to her plate of food only to look up and see Jace staring right at her. He looked away after a few pauses. That is how supper had continued, a few conversations were held with one another and stories were shared, and Jace and Illia had been sneaking glances back and forth across the table.

Once supper had ended and the two younger had been ushered to their chambers, Jace had offered to escort her to her chambers himself. Illia had said her goodnights to Rhaenyra and Daemon before being pulled out the door by Jace. He had walked a few paces before stopping the pair, “How would you like to show me the gardens?” She had turned to him at the request, her lilac eyes wide and her mouth parted open. “What?”, “Oh please Illia! It will be fun, just like old times sake. Come on let’s go!”. She did not even have time to refuse the prince before he pulled her through halls to the gardens outside.

The night sky was quite clear tonight, Illia could see almost every star in the sky and the moon all clearly. The gardens were tall bushes adorned with flowers and vines in an elaborate maze placement. “Come on Illia!” Jace had let go of her arm and taken to running ahead of her into the gardens entrance. “Jace wait!” the girl cried, she watched his cape disappear behind a wall before picking up the bottom of her skirts and running in behind him. She heard his laughs and encouragements for her to keep following him. She had truly lost the boy, she must have taken at least two wrong turns before coming upon a deadened wall. She had thrown down her skirts and let out a frustrated cry.

“Jacaerys Velaryon, this isn’t funny!” She cried to the sky before turning around. In a moment Jace had ran towards her and grabbed her under the waist, lifting her into the air while going around in circles. The golden haired princess let out and terrified shriek and cursed the boys names. She had thrown her hands against the prince’s head and back in fits of rage. He had just laughed at her as he placed her back down on the ground, before he could settle his footing the girl had given him a rough shove causing the prince to fall upon his rear onto his back. He laughed even more at the actions the girl had taken to him. “Oh that’s it Averillia Targaryen. You better run.”

The girl didn’t hesitate to start running. She gripped the front end of her skirts turning corner after corner not remember the way she came. She heard the prince’s heavy footsteps behind her getting closer. She made the fatal mistake to look behind her, she had unknowingly slowed down enough for the prince to grab her dress skirt and pull her to him. He wrapped him arms around her and had thrown her over his shoulder. Defenseless against the older boy she just wiggled her body to try and make her escape. He walked her through the maze to the opening in the middle of the garden. He placed her onto the dirt and untangled himself from her, in the struggle she had kicked his one supporting leg and caused him to fall right onto the blonde. Pained grunts were shared between the two before Jace supported himself again, face to face with the blonde under him.

“How do I look from down there?” he asked her. The blondes face had been flushed a bright red from underneath him, she just stared with her mouth agape staring at him. Her chest started to feel very hot in the moment, unsure from the embarrassment or attraction. The boy had let out a loud laugh and rolled himself onto his side. Illia sat up after Jace rolled off of her and had gone to fix her skirts. Once Jace had his laughs did he sit up and notice the girls pout. “Oh Illia, I’m sorry. I was just trying to brighten your mood from dinner. Something was obviously troubling you. Please don’t be mad at me.”

The blonde had turned to him and saw him looking up at her through his curled bangs a slight pout on his lips. She took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. She looked away faster than she had originally looked. Her ears must be red at this point from him. Jace did not like the answer she gave him and instead got up behind her and hugged her. She let out a small quiet squeak from the embrace. “Illia. Please forgive me.” The boy had whispered in her ear. She felt his hot breath on her neck and his arms tighten around her waist. “Jace, you must not do this. Someone will see.”

The boy removed himself to be sitting next to her and facing her during it. “Illia, we are doing nothing wrong.” He grabbed her face in his which was equally as warm as his breath on her skin. She closed her eyes and held his hand making him drop it from her face and instead lay in her lap. “I have missed you ever so dearly, Illia.”

“I have also missed you quiet dearly too, Jace.”

“Daemon what had the servant boy tell you?” Rhaenyra had been changed into her night dress undoing her hair when she asked the question. Daemon turned to her to see her looking at him through the mirror. “Exactly what the green dressed woman had put Averillia though during theses past four years.”. “What would you mean by that?” Rhaenyra had turned her entire body around on the stool to look at her husband as he started to tell her about the temperament Alicent had with the girl after Driftmark.

“I- I must go speak with my father.”

The blonde women rushed out of the from their shared quarters and the door closed quickly behind her.

The bright light of morning followed soon. Elina had wasted no time in getting into her ladies room as soon as the dawn broke. She had ripped open shades letting the bright morning light shine directly onto the princess. Illia had let out a loud groan at the unannounced sudden light that blinded her. “It’s time to get up my lady! Court in to be held today and you must attend!” In turn she had pulled the princess from her warmer sheets to get her into the bath. She had made Illia sit through a torturous twenty and two minutes of defining her curls and leaving a braided hairband crown onto of her head to pull her hair away from her face. “I should be receiving a hefty price for putting up with your antics my Lady. – the girl had turned towards the box of jewels and headwear before continuing - You sit worse than a small child does.” The princess in offence had taken the hair comb and thrown it at the lady hitting her straight in the chest. An eyebrow raised in return to the girls pathetic attempt. “You’re now acting like a child. A girl of ten and three should not be throwing fits over having their hair done.” “You pull hard!” Illia had replied but Elina had already turned her back towards the wardrobe. “You are just tender headed, my lady!”

The bigger fight was the dress Elina had made for Illia to wear. “That is to extravagant Elina! What makes you think I will wear that?” The gown was of a fuller skirt of light grey silk under a dark greyish blue overdress of satin. A corset had also needed to be worn for such a cut in the neckline. The sleeves just feel into what looked like waves from her elbows. Silver needlework decorated the bodice and sleeve cuffs. Small silver chains decorated the neckline in pairing. The gown looked like a torturous contraption for Illia. “You are to be presented in front of the entirety of the court and more importantly it is blue. No green, a silent support for prince Lucerys Velaryon today.” The princess still was not sold on the idea, no matter how much she knew it would make her mother lose her mind. “Also if you do care to know, A maid friend of mine told me that the elder prince is to be wearing shades of greys and reds and he looks quiet charming in his outfit.” Elina knew just the right words to make the princess agree to her minor demands. “You are a cruel woman, Elina Dayne.”

“The princess looks more like she would belong to the houses of Velaryon or Arryn in her color choice in gowns for heaven’s sake! She fits better to be a princess of King Viserys and Queen Aemma then the lady Alicent Hightower.”

“Is that the Dayne girl with her? Why would his Grace the King allow such a girl into our lands?” “I heard she had been casted out for killing her own baby brother in his sleep! How would they allow her to be in Keep with the Princess Helaena’s children here?”

“I am surprised they kept the simple princess even near the family! Did you not hear about what she had done to prince Aemond with his grotesque scar?”

“My word, my Lady. I thought I had seen more vipers in Dorne, but I fear I’ve been mistaken.” The princess let out a snort at her companion’s comment. A few heads of the court turned to her before looking back away. “You are quiet right, my friend. About more than on thing.”

Elina followed her friend’s eyes to see them land upon the royal family across the room, specifically at the eldest prince in the pack of dragons. “Oh, my Lady. He could have been dressed in nothing covered in sheep’s dung and you still would have found him charming.” Illia had turned around to face her. Eyes wide and her cheeks and ears a bright pink tint. “You mustn’t speak like that in public Elina! Someone may hear you!” The Dayne girl laughed at how easily she had made her friend flustered by a simple image.

The princess huffed at her friend and turned back around towards the front. Her eyes slowly went across the way to Jacaerys. He did indeed look charming in his attire. The darker grey doublet was once again fitted to his form, it was trimmed with red fabric and grey needle work was decorating the red. He wore a belt on his waist and a sword hung from the belt. He hadn’t had one on the day before and in her eyes it made him look more grown. His hands rested on the hilt of the swords handle, veins protruded from the tops of his hand being very visible in the light shinning through. The same hand she had held the night before in the garden. Illia had wished later on after she had retired to her chambers that she hadn’t moved his hand. That they still held her cheeks for the entirety and did not let her go. Oh how she wished he had held her longer in the embrace they had shared before she had forced him to break it. Averillia felt a tightening and intense heat in her breasts, her breathing labored as she felt the tightening feeling crawl up from her breasts to her neck. Choking her in a way. Oh how the Gods would punish her for thinking of such sinful thoughts.

“Though it is a great hope of this court that lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with he grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon, please start us off.”

“The seas foulest serpent gets to place his poison.” The lady Dayne had whispered just loud enough for the Targaryen princess to hear. She delivered a small smack with her hand to the girl next to her causing the two to break into small audible giggles. The eldest black dragon prince had looked over towards the two girls draped in blues when he heard the giggles. They had both been looking at the sea snakes’ brother who was walking up to the front of the court. He furrowed his brows in confusion on what could be so funny in this moment, the lady of house Dayne had seen the princes confused look and had taken her two fingers and curled them over. She made a sharp motion with the two fingers as if she were piercing something. He was even more confused at the girls action, he had clearly missed the joke shared.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

The princess has certainly had enough of Lord Vaemond’s words. The show he was putting on had almost made the princess turn and leave the court room. She looked to the dragon brothers and saw Lucerys scared face and his elder brothers face had also seem to have had enough of Vaemond’s words.

“As it does my sons, the offspring of the late Laenor Velaryon. Or have you forgotten that in your own ambitions?” Princess Rhaenyra had interrupted the man before he could continue.

“Maybe if the sea serpent did care so much about his own houses blood, he would not be so bold in spreading his venomous accusations against its rightful heir.” The girl next to Averillia had commented, but clearly she had spoken to loudly as the mans eyes had turned around right towards her as well as both families in black and green. “Lady Dayne, do you care to repeat yourself and share loudly of your witty comments?” Vaemond had asked the lady, a clear look of evil in his eyes.

“Of course, Ser Vaemond.” She stepped out from around Averillia closer to the middle of the group. “I had said, ‘If the venomous Sea Serpent did care for his own houses blood, he would not be so emboldened in to spreading such poisonous accusations against its rightful heir’. Must I make clear what fatal accusations you speak of? His Grace, King Viserys would not take kindly to such accusations against his own grandson, his own heirs second born son. Would your brother Lord Corlys Velaryon take such gratitude in your rebuttal against his own heir that he’s upheld sense the boy was born from his own mothers womb?”

“What do you know of accusations, Lady Dayne? Considering you come from Dornish land where men lie with men and women lie with women. Men and women produce bastards and they get to inherit still. Your people know nothing of our customs – the man had gotten closer to the young lady, chest to chest talking down to her - and for such an opinion of a dornish girl, what do you know of Velaryon blood, Lady Dayne? I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it.”

“I shall gladly provide you the blade, Ser Vaemond. Maybe in that case you can remove your tongue with the same blade for the king and I’ll present it to him on a sparkling silver platter!” The eldest princess had pushed herself between the two tempered people as Prince Jacaerys had pulled the lady Dayne and the princess Averillia behind him with the help of Prince Daemon.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you will make your own petition for your son but have the courtesy of allowing Ser Vaemond’s to be heard. I also apologize ser Vaemond for Princess Averillia’s lady in waiting and her out of turn words. She will be sure to keep her lady in check.” The Queen Alicent had walked over to guide Vaemond away from the princess Rhaenyra and continue on the conversation.

“Of course. My Queen and my Lord Hand, I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor, the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond. Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra walked up to the center of the room after Vaemond had walked away. She looked in the embodiment of a dragon. Draped in a black dress and dragon fire like needlework and beads designed the bodice. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very-”

“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.”

The crowd had turned to see the king enter in. He walked with a club foot like limp. He would try to stand tall but would go back down with every limp. Coughs racked him into stopping and taking a hard lean onto his cane as he walked. “Father…”

The princess draped in blues was fast to go to her fathers aide with her lady following quickly behind her. Both girls standing on each side of him to help him stead himself. “I will sit the throne today.” The weakened king had called out to his Lord Hand. The king looked to his youngest child, “I have always delighted in when you wear blues, my dear girl. You look much like my late Aemma.”. The princesses eyes had gone wide and gathered lightly with tears at his words. The girl has not seen her father in almost two years because his condition was worsening. He has mistaken her mother for his late wife Aemma Arryn a couple times, but he never compared her to the late queen before that moment. He smiled to his daughter before turning to his daughter’s lady in waiting, “Lady Dayne, please allow me to walk myself. I will be fine.” Averillia and Elina shared a look of uncertainty before letting the old king walk himself.

He continued his path up to the throne before having yet another coughing fit. He hunched over himself having the Targaryen crown fall from his brow to clatter on the floor. The girls in blue were quick to aide the old king but his younger brother had beat them to his aide. Daemon had signaled the girls to back away in which they were lead by Rhaenyra and Jacaerys back towards the pact of black dragons.

Daemon helped his brother to the seat of the throne and placed the golden crown on his brow.

“I must… admit… my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.” Behind the pact of dragons came out the Princess Rhaenys, followed behind her was the young Baela Targaryen. The girl had grown into a beautiful girl since Driftmark, she had grown taller and filled into the brighter blue dress she wore.

“Indeed, Your Grace. – she had taken a pause before continuing - It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son Lucerys Velaryon to Lord Corlys’s granddaughter, Rhaena Targaryen. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” Both Rhaena and Lukes heads had turned to the other one after that statement. Luke was quick to turn away after Jace had given the boy an encouraging shoulder bump, face flushed a bright red color. Illia had only turned to the younger girl and gave her hand a squeeze and a gentle smile.

“Then the matter is settled. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” The king broke into another coughing fit before a voice spoke up.

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

“”Allow it”? Do not forget yourself.”

The man had walked closer to the pact of dragons making the children take a few steps back, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!” Elina Dayne had been the one to step up to the hot tempered man before he had gotten closer to the younger prince. Rhaenyra had quickly put herself before the girl, “Go to your chambers. You have said enough.”

“Do not lose your tongue Ser. You are only no more than a second son of Driftmark.” The Dornish lady had a pause before the hand of the Sea Serpent had struck her across the face. “Elina!”

“You may run your house as you see fit! But you will not decide the future of mine! 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!”

“Say it”

“Her children – he had paused and taken in a deep breath – are bastards! And she is a whore!”

Gasps had been heard from the court before the king demanded the mans tongue.

In an instant Daemon had moved to the man and swung his sword, Jace was fast to push Illia behind him with his younger siblings. Blood had flown through the air from the blade of dark sister falling onto the children. Jace and Illia being covered the most after the body fell and the blood had sprayed from the mans exposed inner skull. Jace’s boots had fully been soaked and the entirety of Illia’s skirts had been covered. The blood went from the fallen body through the stones cracks right to the bloody blondes shoes.

“You foolish girl! You’ve ruin yourself for your future!”

Averillia’s chest started to tighten and taking in rapid breaths. Her hands had started to tremble and her eyes darted from the body to the trail of blood that led right to her. This was how the Gods punished her for such impure thoughts. Her sins are paid in blood.

“Illia!” Her eyes snapped to the prince who had been trying to get her attention. Blood had gotten onto his face across his cheekbone, his eyes looked at her with complete concern at her labored breaths and trembling hands.

“Sins are paid for in blood. You mustn’t touch me!” The princess pushed herself from the prince. She backed faster to turn to the door and quickened her pace.

“Averillia?”

“My Lady!”

“How good is it to see you all tonight, together.”

The table had been set for all 13 family members. A family divided by black and green cloaks and gowns. Both of the head women sat on either side of the king across from their children. She had been placed on the end next to Aemond. Why the seating had to be so she did not understand. She was across from Rhaena and Luke so she had a familiar friend at least. Baela was next to her and Jace was sitting between her and Aegon.

Jace had changed from his bloody court wear into a finer doublet, it was another black one, it had from even halfway down the table fit him nicely. The hook clasps of the doublet were of silver and the draped fabric along the back had been of a dark purple, almost black. Darker than her own purple dress but matched the beads and needle work along the collar of the dress and also the bands at the bottom of the shoulder puffs into long tight sleeves. The gowns neckline was square cut but had dipped lower than some of her other gowns. When the gown was tightened to the proper tightness it made her breasts more prominent. Elina had insisted on the gown for dinner that night. Illia was starting to suspect the minor connections in their outfits had been more intentional than her friend was letting on.

He was quiet a beautiful man, in the candlelight his face held more definition. His eyes looked much more black than purple in the dimly lit room. She had started to wonder if they would still look like this blackened shade if he was in the moonlight that casted through her chamber windows right onto her bed. Would the curls of his hair cast such shadows on his eyes or would he had his hair pushed back for her to get a clearer look at his face as he laid under her in the moonlight? Would he have held her in a warm embrace without the feeling of clothing layers blocking them. Before Illia had been able to indulge deeper into her sinful dreams her father had interrupted with his speech.

“My grandson, Luke will be the future lord of the tides with his cousin Rhaena by his side. Further strengthening the bond between our families. A toast to the young couples betrothal!”

“Hear, hear”

“I also have another celebration to announce.” The eyes of the table had once again turned to the old king. “I have decided… to betroth my grandson, Jacaerys Velaryon to my last daughter, Averillia Targaryen. A strong future king needs the right queen by his side and I am certain that Averillia will stand by faithfully.”

Averillia had taken in a quick breath at her fathers announcement. She looked to Jace who had already been looking at her, he formed a smile before turning away and drinking from his glass.

“Husband, you cannot be truthful. You never consulted me on a choice of husband for our daughter.” Alicent had been quick to rebuttal the kings news. “The daughter you have not spoken a word to in about four years? I wasn’t going to wait around for our daughter to become a spinster because you can’t seem to forgive her for a accident that happened when they were children. I wish to be present watching all my daughters be wed and happy with their new families before I am cold and dead in my grave.” The elder women had been taken aback by her husbands outburst as had the rest of the table. Nobody spoke of the woman’s grudge for her own daughter.

The king let out a loud sigh before continuing, “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.”

Everyone at the table had gone silent with awkward glances around the table to one another before Rhaenyra had moved to stand up, “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.” She seated herself back down before Illia’s own mother stood, “Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

The table seemed to be at peace until Jace had slammed the table and jumping from his seat, a certain glare at Aegon. He quickly grabbed his glass and held it up for a toast. “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond, we have not seen each other for a few years but I do remember the fond memories in our shared youths, and as men – he paused for a moment before continuing – I hope we can see eye to eye and place any harmful intentions behind us to possibly be friends and allies for our families good health, dear uncles.” A smirk had played on his face before sitting himself down.

Illia had let out a quiet giggle at his joke. Unaware of Aemond’s small glance at her. Attention had been changed to Helaena who had stood herself up. “I would like to toast to Averillia and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Illia had realized what her words meant and quickly drank her glass of wine. Music started to play in the background as her heartbeat was in her ears. Would her father have her marry at three and ten as they had done with Helaena? Will she have to carry heirs at such an early age? Will she perish just as Lady Laena did in childbirth?

A hand poking at her wrist had changed her attention to the man next to her, Jace was standing there holding out his hand to her. She took his hand as he quickly guided her to the open area of the floor. “Are you feeling well?” He asked her as they walked. She gave a quick nod with her head before the dance started. They spun around and taken little hops together to the song that played. He also in the moment taken to catching her waist and spinning her around in a few fast circles in which the girl had burst into giggles.

A bang had paused any movement in the room. The young couple had stopped dancing to see Aemond standing having all the attention drawn to him. “Final tribute.”

“Aemond.”

“To my sister and nephew, Averillia and Jacaerys. They are to be married soon, let us drain our cups to my sisters health and usefulness in delivering him healthy and… strong boys.” “I dare you to say that again.” Jace had straightened himself out putting Illia behind him. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think my foolish sister won’t be able to understand even the act of making a child correctly?”

That was the final straw for Jacaerys when he walked up and landed a blow right to Aemond’s jaw. He hadn’t moved but he pushed Jace backwards a few steps. Aemond was ready to throw his punch into Jace’s jaw but Illia had gone to try and catch her betrothal and instead caught Aemond’s fist to her forehead. The young couple had been knocked to the stone floor. Baela had been quick to jump from her seat and come to Illia’s aide as Jace jumped right back onto his feet, bring the unbalanced Aemond to the ground and was quick to get a couple hits back. Daemon and a guard had grabbed the dragon prince and pulled him off the one eyed prince. The boy wiggled free from the men’s hold and went straight to his betrothal.

“Cease this fighting at once!” The king had yelled aloud to the room. “To think that you’ve all grown you yet still act like children! It shall be final. Jacaerys Velaryon and Averillia Targaryen shall be married a moon after her six and tenth nameday. No later. Aemond Targaryen shall be sent to reside on Storms End until the wedding. I will not allow theses acts of violence to continue occurring in my own home.” King Viserys of house Targaryen had fallen back against his chair in exhaustion.

Back in her chambers the princess was being closely looked at by her lady in front of her vanity. “Elina I am fine! Please stop fretting over me.” “Illia you had been hit to the floor by your own brother, back home my brother would have had his hand cut off for striking his own sister.” Illia had rolled her eyes at her friend, “Well the boy already is missing his eye. You can’t take a limb from the man too. Now please just let me go to bed, it’s late.” The girl had let out a huff before agreeing to the girls pleas.

Illia watched her walk out the door before she started to undo her own hair from the elaborate style Elina had put it in. The girl went to take out the blasted dangling earrings that caused her great discomfort before a knocking sound was heard. She turned to the door, not expecting a visitor for how late in the night it was. She opened the door to find no one in the corridor. She closed the door unsure why a knock had been heard. Not a step later, another knock was heard. She opened the door quicker and found not a single soul again. She walked to her wardrobe and opened the double doors to find only gowns and cloaks hanging. Averillia let out a huff in annoyance. For the night she has had, she was especially not in the mood for jesters.

“Did you know it’s rude to not answer your betrothal when he knocks upon your wall?”

The princess had turned around quickly to find Prince Jacaerys in her chambers leaning against her bed post still in his attire from dinner.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“I did not know that my betrothal used such vulgar language.” He had a smirk upon his face at her utterly shocked face.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

“The wall?”

He moved and pointed to the corner of the room where a chair had now been moved. A corner with two stone walls.

“The wall? I may have been hit in the head but I am not a dimwitted fool, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

The boy had rolled his eyes at her attitude and walked closer to the girl. He reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a black cloak. “Put this on.”

“Why?”

“Must you ask so many questions?”

The girl had listened to him and thrown the cloak on, it covered her entire body with arm hole slits in the front. She had finished tying the cord around the neckline to find him leaning against the stone wall in the corner.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

In an instance he had opened the wall as if it was a door and had gone through. Illia was fast to approach him and walk through. She looked around before the door closed behind her.

“Follow me.”

The pathways lead the couple all the way outside the castle to a open plain of grass. “How did you know about those tunnels?” “I had found them before we left for Dragonstone.” A sudden sound of two dragons landing had made the girl turn to see both Vermax and Silverwing waiting for the couple. “Would you care to go on a dragon fly with me to the little islands?”

“Race you!”

The princess had shoved the prince back before taking off into a sprint to her own dragon.

“No fair!”

The dragons raced through the cloudy night sky across the open body of water towards the collection of small islands. They were to small of land for anyone to live but the dragons seemed to enjoy resting on the islands during their flights. Averillia and Silverwing had beaten the boys to the island in record time. Vermax let out a little huff of fire when he landed, obviously the dragon had known he’d been beaten and wasn’t happy about the lost. “You cheated!”

“I did not! You’re just a sore loser!” Illia had screamed back to the prince at his accusation towards her. The prince was fast to grab the girl and tickling her restlessly. “Jace no! Please don’t! I am sorry! Please no!” the boy had gotten on top of the girl and tickled her sides relentlessly while she begged him to stop. “You have to admit you cheated and then I shall cease the tickling.” “Anything else! Please!”

“Ok fine, You have to kiss me than!”

“What?!”

“Those are your only options, Princess. Either admit your wrongs or kiss me, that’s the only way you are getting yourself out of here.”

The girls giggles sounded louder as he kept tickling her. “Okay! Okay I surrender!” Jace had stopped his hands for one moment to look at her. The blonde princess had wiggled herself to sit upon her bum and grabbed his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. It had been a quick peck upon his cheek, but still a kiss none the less. He had frozen up still at the girls kiss and stared her in the eyes. The moon which started to shine through the clouds shined right upon her. Jace had thought she looked of a goddess in the moonlight, her hair was a beautiful golden color as if a halo around her and her eyes had almost shined pale purple in the light. He had taken her all in and noticed how milky pale her skin was, it looked to be a soft feeling. Her neck looked as if every breath she took was going to break her, her shoulders went up with every intake of breath she took and down with every outtake. She had been leaning back on her hands which exposed her chest in fuller view, He had seen her lower cut dress at dinner but he did not seem to mind, especially not now. Her breasts looked as if they were to spill out from her gown with how much father the gown had been pulled down. He knew it was not polite to stare, especially with how many times his mother had enforced that rule but gods how could he not. She looked of utter radiance and she was to be his, and his alone.

Illia wondered if the prince above her was feeling well. He had been staring at her for a few good minutes without staying a word. “Jace?” The boy had rested his palm against her waist before following the seam of her bodice up to her bust, her neck, and ending on her jaw. “Jace? Are you feeling well?” He had taken his other hand and held the back of her head. “Jace? What are you doing?” her hand held his wrist that was on her jaw. He was freaking her out with how hard he was staring at her. “Do you trust me?” His eyes jumped between her eyes and lips as she gave a slow nod. He didn’t hesitate to bring her lips to his. It was an awkward feeling for the girl, having never kissed or been kissed by anyone before. Slowly she relaxed and had started to enjoy the feeling.

Jace was far to excited to function properly. Her skin was indeed soft, most likely the softest thing the prince had ever felt. Her lips had a comforting warmth to them that he does not think he could find anywhere else. He had inevitably pulled away from her to catch his breath. The girl under him was truly the most beautiful thing ever in this world. Without any hesitation, he again pulled his hand that was tangled in the back of her hair to him in another kiss. He had laid her down in the dirt once more and continued kissing her. His hand moved from her hair down to her waist as her hands had moved to his bicep and his own hair. She had pulled him deeper into the kiss with a small moan escaping her mouth. Jace had felt his trousers tightening at just her simple sound, if he could he’d never wish for her to stop that sound. He had felt her break away from him and quickly flipped him so he was the one in the dirt and she was on top. He pulled her closer by her waist and brought his lips to her jaw, her neck, her clavicle, and end at her breasts. As soon as his lips touched her gown collar, she had thrown herself from his lap and pushing his upper body straight back into the dirt.

She had been only a foot away from him when he sat up, her chest was breathing rapidly, her hair had been a mess, her eyes wide like a doe, and her lips swollen covered in her own spit. “Illia, oh gods. Illia I am sorry, I did not mean for it to be taken so far, and it was not even my intents to bring you out here just for that. I just wanted one moment alone with you before we go back to Dragonstone on the marrow. I-“

“You’re leaving again? But you’ve only just arrived?”

In Jace’s rambling she had herd the words that made her heart sink into her stomach. Tears had welded into her eyes at the sudden news. “You’re supposed to be here for five more days? Why are you leaving me again?”

“Mother thinks its best considering Aemond’s temper.”

“Take me with you! Do not leave me here with those awful people! Do not leave me, Jace! Please do not leave me again!”

The tears had started to consistently stream down her cheeks. “Illia, please do not cry. I can not stand to keep watching you cry like this. I do not want to leave you so soon either. I had begged my mother to take you but she knew it wasn’t possible. Your mother wouldn’t have allowed it.” He crawled over to the girl to try and console her. She had attached herself to him, hoping holding him longer will make him stay.

They sat in that spot for hours that night trying to find comfort in the departure between the two but there was none.

Jacaerys Velaryon, the dragon prince and Averillia Targaryen, the simple princess were once again pulled apart from one another once dawn had broken though over the sea line.

endnote: Thank you everyone for reading! The next part shall take me some time to write but if you’re still interested in reading the story please like or reblog to bring you back to them! (Did you guys also see the Epic reference I put in??? I believe it’s the most fitting lyric in the entire musical) also I had changed Jace’s appearance in this time frame, I love my man but the curls eat more then his season one wig. The finale part to this trilogy shall be released sometime at the end of next week or two!

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon #hotd #hotd jacaerys #jace targaryen x reader #prince jacaerys #jace x reader #original character #house of the dragon #hbo #house targaryen #house velaryon

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lady-pug · 8 months ago

Text

Written Between the Lines

Chapter IV - Where Lions Preen and Dragons Feast

Summary: Yours and Aemond’s relationship flourishes as you wait for your wedding to arrive. But when Jason Lannister steps out of line, insulting not only yourself, but also your mother and your future husband, you putting him back in his place elicits an interesting reaction from Aemond.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 4,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); Aemond being pussydrunk; Jason Lannister being a major asshole; Aemond is a simp through and through (I plead my case)

Notes: Hello my dears, how have you been? I bring you the next chapter of this series (this is also my second time ever I writing smut so bear with me please, I apologize in advance)

Just to explain some things, Aemond and Reader call each other husband and wife in High Valyrian even though they are not married yet because apparently there is no word for betrothed, fiancé, bride, groom or anything similar in High Valyrian, so they call each other that (it’s meant to be more affectionate than a indication of their relationship status anyway)

Also, I again used an online translator (if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this story so far and that you enjoy this chapter!

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Things had been calm, albeit quite hectic all the same, at least for a while. On the very same night after the spectacle that was the hearing over Driftmark, King Viserys had passed away in his sleep. Your mother, bless her soul, was with him when it happened, and promptly called for the maesters’ help but there was no longer anything they could do, leaving his body in the care of the silent sisters. Her coronation, reluctantly, happened on the very next morning. Rhaenyra wanted time to mourn her father, but an heir had no time to mourn a king, for the realm demanded a new one. Or, in this case, a queen.

In order to remind the lords of all the great houses of the oath they’d sworn to King Viserys almost twenty years before, Rhaenyra sent out every dragonrider to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. Daemon flew to Riverrun; Jace paid the Lord Cregan Stark a visit; Baela, accompanied by Rhaena, was sent to the Vale; Aegon and Helaena took flight to Casterly Rock to negotiate with a promise of maintenance of Ser Tyland Lannister’s chair on the Queen’s Small Council and a future betrothal between Jaehaerys and Jason Lannister’s daughter, Cerelle; Luke headed to the Reach.

You, on the other hand, were sent to speak with the Prince Qoren Nymeros Martell with a proposition to join the Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule, which he of course refused and practically laughed in your face. But you were nothing short of prepared, coming up with an alternative: should he recognize your mother as the Queen of Westeros, even if Dorne remained an independent kingdom, he could keep the Stepstones and incorporate it into Dornish territory. You’d even personally aid them with your dragon in driving away the Triarchy; the only catch was, after that, he’d have to maintain it of his own accord. If he was successful in keeping the Stepstones going forward, they were his to do what he pleased so long as he kept open commerce with the rest of the realm. He’d eventually caved in, an impressed smile adorning his features (and a proposition to warm your bed, which you politely turned down) as he agreed to your terms.

The only two great houses who gave any indication of trouble accepting your mother’s claim to the Iron Throne were Houses Baratheon and Greyjoy. Lord Borros Baratheon, although vexed at having to bend the knee to a woman, didn’t seem so bothered after negotiations with his cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, and a proposal to wed one of his daughters to the previous king’s youngest son, Daeron. Lord Dalton Greyjoy, on the other hand, was quick to bend the knee to Rhaenyra the moment he set his eyes on Vhagar flying above Pyke, the sheer size of her rumored to be bigger than the whole castle itself, and Aemond barely had to do any negotiations at all.

All of this, allied with the extensive gatherings of the Small Council (which Rhaenyra decided not to change most of its members for the time being, just rearranging their positions and reinstating Lord Corlys Velaryon as Master of Ships) meant yours and Aemond’s wedding got pushed back several weeks, if not moons, the last thing on anybody’s minds at the moment. The betrothal itself was only announced after the return of the last of the dragonriders to King’s Landing, almost a whole moon after the death of your grandsire. By then, the expected date for the birth of your mother’s and Daemon’s babe was approaching, and so it was decided to wait until after the babe was born so as to not cause Rhaenyra unnecessary stress that came with planning a whole wedding feast.

In the meantime, you and Aemond would spend every waking moment in each other’s presence; wherever one was, the other was never too far behind. Especially after your betrothal was formally announced the two of you could often be found walking together around the gardens, your hand tucked on the crook of his elbow, or breaking your fast together. Sometimes you’d be found reading together in the library or you’d watch him train on the balcony above the courtyard. Your handmaids often jested with you calling him your shadow, as he never strayed too far, almost like a lost little puppy.

What the ever watching eyes of court didn’t see, however, was the way you’d often drag Aemond by the hand to some deep alcove away from everyone, or to the darkest hallway of in Maegor’s Holdfast, holding tightly onto the lapels of his leather doublet and crushing his lips to yours. Sometimes the kisses were unhurried, soft and gentle, everything you’d once dreamed of in your youth when your father, Ser Laenor, would tell stories of knights and princesses. Other times the kisses were fervent, passionate, his hands locked on tightly to your waist to stop them from wandering elsewhere. He’d been getting better the more you practiced together, more deliberate, sometimes catching you unguarded with a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head upwards, or a hand on your head and nimble fingers tangled in your hair. These stolen kisses, stolen moments, you shared had become the highlight of your days, and you suspected they were his too.

Almost two moons after her coronation you’d, regretfully, turned down your mother’s offer to spend some time with her in the middle of the morrow, promising to do so during the afternoon’s tea.

“You just want to gawk at your future husband training with a sword, don’t you?” she spoke, not even trying to hide the smirk hanging from her lips, much to your dismay. You felt the tips of your ears burning but didn’t try to deny it, for she knew you too well and could spot when you were lying.

Scurrying off to the courtyard you were pleasantly surprised to find it was practically devoid of the usual onlookers, not even the ladies of court were perched on their spot on the balcony, probably due to the gray and chilly weather that had briefly taken over the capitol.

Only a few knights occupied the yard, engaged in heated training matches. On one corner Ser Erryk, who had been appointed by your mother as your sworn protector, sparred with his twin, Helaena’s sword and shield. Jace was also present, slaughtering a hay stuffed dummy with his sword; normally Daemon would supervise his and Luke’s (and your own, in secret) instruction, having picked up where Ser Harwin left off, but with the late stages of his wife’s pregnancy he chose not to venture too far from her side should she need his assistance. And Aemond, dedicated as ever, found himself in a match against Ser Jason Lannister, who had been briefly summoned away from Casterly Rock by his brother for some reason or another.

Emboldened by the lack of people who would possibly berate you or gossip behind your back about your ‘unladylike’ conduct (and considering you didn’t particularly care for the opinion of the likes of Jason Lannister) you decided to join the men in the courtyard, sitting down on some crates near where your betrothed was sparring, meaning to watch him from closer than usual.

Aemond was good. He was more than just good, he was phenomenal. He moved effortlessly, swiftly around the makeshift battlefield, embodying the first rule your father ever told you when he began to train you: ‘the sword is an extension of your arm’. He was one with the steel, moving with a graciousness that rivaled that of the greatest dancers. You could only imagine how many hours he had put into achieving such mastery, considering the incident had most likely completely changed his depth perception. Watching him fight, even as just a training exercise, winning match after match against Ser Jason, was doing funny things to your heart as it beat wildly in your chest, heat expanding from your cheeks and down to other places.

The sun, partially hidden by gray clouds, was already high up in the sky when both men decided to call it a day. Aemond had already re-sheathed his sword and was making his way towards you when Ser Jason stopped him, trying to engage in some rather interesting conversation.

“My prince,” the man started, loud enough for you to hear, only getting an impatient hum in response “I hope not to take up too much of your time. I was just hoping you could maybe have a word with your grandsire.”

“What about?” Aemond’s eye barely flitted to the man in front of him, his gaze settling on you over Jason Lannnister’s shoulder as he talked his ears away.

“The changes in the Small Council.” he shrugged, as if it was the most trivial thing in the world “Lord Velaryon being named Master of Ships barely seems fair, especially with the state of his health.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, you see my prince, with a new reign just beginning I was hoping to be named Master of Coin.” he explained, finally gaining Aemond’s attention “But with the announcement of Lord Corlys for what was once my brother’s post, Tyland has now been appointed Master of Coin instead.”

You could see Aemond pursing his lips in thought, somewhat amused with the whole tirade Ser Jason was making.

“But you are the Lord of Casterly Rock, my lord. Shouldn’t that be enough for one man?”

“Ah, but to be granted a seat at the King’s Small Council is a great honor!” he kept on talking, not even noticing the slight jab aimed his way “Although the Queen’s Council just doesn’t have that nice of a ring to it.”

“Do you question your Queen’s decisions, my lord?” your betrothed asked, clearly meaning for Ser Jason to fall onto his trap and put his foot in his mouth. And oh, did he do it.

“I mean,” and that had you perking up on your seat “she hasn’t been known to always make the best decisions. My bet is she did this to appease Lord Velaryon about the death of his son. I simply don’t buy this tale of him being murdered by his squire. I am most sure she and that husband of hers had him killed so they could be together, she always had eyes for him in her younger years.”

He was speaking as if you weren’t even there, not noticing or simply not caring for your presence. You’d always known Jason Lannister was a fool, but you never took him for an idiot.

“She is a woman after all. They are more emotional creatures, thinking with their hearts rather than their brains.” he chuckled maliciously “Although a woman like Rhaenyra Targaryen probably thinks with her cunt more than anything.”

You were on your feet in an instant and even Aemond seemed surprised as the man started bad mouthing your mother, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, calling her every possible name under the sun.

“She would fuck any man who even glanced her way. Who knows who the father of all of her children even is? It might be one father for each offspring, we might never know.” Aemond’s expression got increasingly darker as the man talked about your brothers and you “The ones sired by her uncle are more likely to have purer Targaryen blood than the other three. What was she thinking, naming one of those counterfeits as heir?”

One moment you were watching the whole thing go down from afar and the next you were between the two men, holding Aemond back with both hands on his chest.

“You dare speak lowly of my betrothed, my future wife?! Your future queen?!” he tried lunging at Ser Jason but you stopped him, using all your strength to keep him from strangling the moron “I should have your tongue cut out and feed it to Vhagar, then feed her the rest of you along with it!”

“Aemond!” you held his face in your hands, firmly yet gently forcing him to look at you instead of the object of his ire “Ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys! Issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla.”

He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring at the effort of calming down, until you eventually felt him nod curtly against your hands.

“Might I remind you, Ser Jason, that the one you speak ill of is none other than your Queen, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and that the last man who called her a whore lost his head for it at the hands of that husband of hers.” you spoke over your shoulder, throwing his words right back at him, smirking mockingly “And if my memory serves me well, Lord Lannister, you actually sent in a request to take her hand in marriage when she was younger, a request she herself rejected. So, by your own words, she would fuck any man who even glanced her way except for you.”

Aemond stared at you wide eyed, and you couldn’t decipher if his expression was one of indignation or awe. As for Ser Lannister, whereas any smart man would have stopped talking by now, Jason Lannister was no smart man, and it seemed his wounded ego and pride only fueled his loose lips.

“You hide behind a woman, my prince? I never took the One-Eyed Prince for a coward. What next, are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?” he chuckled cruelly before mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for the both of you to hear “Maimed freak.”

The ringing in your ears and the way your name fell off of Aemond’s lips in a warning tone were the only indication of your next moves, and the next moment you found your hand wrapped around the handle of his sword. He couldn’t react fast enough, for you had already unsheathed his sword and turned, the tip of the blade pointing at Ser Jason’s neck.

“How about you kneel?” you hissed at him, noticing the other two knights and your brother intending to move forward and intervene, but they stopped with a gesture of your head.

The sword was longer, heavier than you were used to, but it would do. You held the Lannister’s stare daring him to move. He, in turn, unsheathed his own sword, clashing it against yours and proceeded to try to attack you.

One lesson Ser Harwin had taught you that had stuck with you for the rest of your life was that most of the knights in the realm were physically stronger than you. It was a given fact. But you were faster, more agile, not wearing several pounds in steel armor that slowed you down meaning you were light on your feet in turn.

“The realm isn’t a nice place for ladies such as yourself, princess.” you remember him saying, a wink thrown your way “The world will not play fair, so you must use every advantage you are given.”

So you waited, dodging Ser Jason’s every blow. You waited for a moment, for just one small falter on his part. It didn’t take long; he was angry, humiliated even, and thus he was reckless, giving you a large window of opportunity to strike. In an instant, while his arm was pulled back way above his head to strike down at you, you twisted your wrist, hitting him square on the nose with the pommel of your sword. He tumbled to the ground, one hand clutching his now bleeding nose and the other blindly feeling around for his sword, which had fallen out of his hand during the fall.

“Yield.” you pointed Aemond’s sword at his neck once more “Yield and those present might just be merciful and overlook your transgressions, forget your treason.”

Both Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk had their hands placed on their own swords, prepared to defend you at a moment’s notice and arrest the treacherous lord should you just say the word. Jace, on the other hand, looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing at the situation, a strained smile painting his face.

“Why don’t you control your wife?!” Ser Jason spat at Aemond, gurgling on his own dripping blood as it ran down his face.

“She is not yet my wife. And besides,” Aemond smirked playfully at you, despite you not being able to see him “no one can control her.”

Seeing as he was vastly outnumbered, Ser Jason couldn’t see any other option than to accept defeat, raising his hands. Once you were sure he wouldn’t try anything funny again you turned back around, giving Aemond back his sword before stalking off, fuming at the man’s audacity.

You didn’t get very far, however, feeling a large warm hand wrapping around your wrist. You turned around, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, but you faltered once you realized it was Aemond who had reached out to you. His expression was firm, determined, as he started dragging you by the wrist, finding one of the secret doors that lead to the hidden tunnels in the Keep and pulling you behind him with a steadfastness similar to the one he held himself with on the training yard.

“Aemond?” you asked while he pulled you deeper and deeper into the secret passages “I’m sorry.”

You feared you might have offended him. When you started approaching the age suitable for marriage, your mother had sat you down to explain what you should expect and to prepare you for what was to come. She told you most lords expected their wives to be proper, never speak out of turn and bend to their every whim with a head bowed. You replied, indignantly, that what they wanted then was a servant they could sire children with, something that prompted a full belly laugh from Daemon who had been standing closeby. You were worried that, by putting Ser Jason Lannister back in his place for insulting not only yourself and your mother, the Queen, but also your future husband, your actions reflected poorly on Aemond himself.

He only stopped walking when you were very far into the tunnels, turning you around and pushing your back against one of the stone columns. He was standing so close to you, staring at you so intently, you couldn’t help but swallow nervously.

“Please, uncle, forgive me! I do not know what came over me, he started insulting you and I just-”

The force with which he crashed his lips against yours was so intense it almost sent you tumbling backwards; your head would have surely been slammed against the wall behind you were it not for his hand gently cradling the back of it to prevent you from hurting yourself. He kissed you fiercely, and by the Gods, had he gotten good at it. His tongue moved against your own with rapid movements, his fingers tangling in your hair and tugging, electing a small breathy whimper out of you, to which he hummed in return, nipping at your bottom lip. He shoved one leg in between yours, keeping them apart, crowding you even further against the wall as his slender fingers pulled at your hair again to tilt your head to the side, allowing his lips to trail a path down your neck to the junction of your shoulder.

“Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes,” he groaned against your neck, nibbling softly at the skin “ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio.”

Arousal pooled in your core at his words, not even realizing your hips had started mindlessly moving back and forth against his thigh. It was over all too soon, however, as he took a step back from you, to which you whined at the loss of contact. But what he did next surprised you even more.

Aemond sank to his knees in front of you, his hands caressing from your hips to the back of your thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked breathlessly.

“Proving some of Jason fucking Lannister’s words right.”

It dawned on you then what he meant, as he started bunching up your skirts.

“Are you going to kneel at her feet and worship the ground she walks on?”

“Hold these for me?” he asked softly, holding the front of your dress bunched up against your navel, and the way he was looking up at you with so much adoration almost broke your heart.

“Aemond, I told you, we can’t-”

“Fear not, ābrazȳrys, this will not break your virtue.” he mentioned, hoisting one of your legs bend over his shoulder.

He spoke with so much conviction you wanted to believe him.

“And how do you know that?”

“Aegon may have mentioned something of the sorts.” he said casually.

“Are we trusting what Aegon says now?” you asked, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“My brother may be an idiot, but his expertise lies in two places:” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “his wines and the pleasures of the flesh.”

Your laughter echoed in the empty halls.

“Aegon does not strike me as the type to know how to please a woman.”

“I said he knows the pleasures of the flesh, not necessarily how to do it right.” he chuckled along, before his expression turned serious once again. He turned his head slightly, laying a kiss on the side of your knee “But if you really don’t feel comfortable, we can simply forget this ever happened and just wait for our wedding night.”

You pondered for a moment, not wanting for this moment with him to end. You were rather quickly realizing that there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for him, and that thought brought a light fluttery feeling to your stomach.

“No no, I trust you.” you smiled reassuringly at him “If Aegon says it is fine, then I trust your judgment.”

“Good.” he inched closer to your core, pushing your smallclothes to the side “But please, stop talking about my brother. His name is not the one I want to hear coming out of your mouth while I feast on your cunt.”

As he was about to dive in, a hand holding onto his locks prevented him from doing so just yet.

“Would you rather I chanted Daeron’s name instead?” you jested, giggling at the annoyance that took over his features.

“Iksā iā ōdres.” he pinched the skin on the back of your thigh where his hand was resting, his other hand snaked around your leg perched over his shoulder, helping to keep you balanced “Ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon.”

“I mean, you did agree to marry-” your jesting was interrupted by a soft moan that left your parted lips, the feeling of his tongue licking a broad stripe between your folds catching you off guard.

Never in your entire life had you felt anything like it. A tingling feeling spread across your entire being, starting from where his lips and his tongue were diligently moving against your soaked slit. He worked smoothly against you, alternating between gentle strokes of his tongue over your entrance and soft kitten licks on your little bundle of nerves on the apex between your thighs.

“A-Aem…-” you tried uttering his name, now completely lost to the blissful sensations he was eliciting out of you, your fingers knotting on his hair and pulling hard.

And then something in him changed. Like a switch had been flipped in his mind, his grip tightening on your thighs as he started devouring your cunt with renewed vigor with a groan, its vibrations against your skin sending your toes curling from unbridled pleasure. You couldn’t fathom what could have possibly caused it, if it was the way you tightened your hold on his silver strands, the breathiness in your voice or, as you’d later be reminded, the accidental use of a long forgotten sobriquet you hadn’t given a second thought to in several years.

Aemond feasted upon you like a man on a mission, desperately leaving open mouthed kisses and broad licks against you cunt like he was starved. It felt like he wanted to memorize the very taste of you should he perish tomorrow, pulling moan after moan from you. Had anyone been venturing these tunnels, they could have surely guessed what was happening, the wet noise of his mouth against your cunt and the way you weren’t even trying to muffle your cries of his name giving it away.

The way his tongue worked in vigorous movements, swirling swiftly around your clit and then down to your entrance again, had you shoving his head even closer to you, canting your hips against his face. The motion caused his sharp nose to bump against your clit, prompting a sharp whine to tumble from your lips.

You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his lips, feeling something warm and almost tangible, like liquid fire, steadily pooling in your core. You felt the pressure of it mounting higher and higher, like a coil threatening to snap, streams of pleasure climbing up your spine and turning your mind into mush. Your thoughts were hazy, like a fog had taken over your thoughts, and you could barely register that Aemond was murmuring something on your skin, but what you couldn’t tell.

Opening your eyes again, for you haven’t even realized they had fallen closed, you stared down at him in between your legs. He looked ethereal, his eye closed as he savored you, some strands of his normally neatly groomed hair messy from where your fingers had pulled. You wanted to see him, for him to gaze up at you, so you grasped his fingers which lay upon your thigh and gave them a little squeeze. His eye fluttered open almost lazily, violet hue half-lidded as he stared up at you. For just a single moment, your traitorous mind was reminded of Aegon, for Aemond looked like he was honestly drunk on your dripping cunt, like it was the finest of Dornish reds he had ever tasted, expression fogged up as if his mind was far away. The small pang of guilt you felt at the comparison was quickly replaced by blinding pleasure as he, upon you smiling down at him with quivering lips, wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked sharply.

Then that coil snapped, your head thrown back in ecstasy. That liquid warmth spread over your body like a tidal wave as your muscles trembled, and had he not been holding you up you’d have surely dropped to the ground, consuming every part of you and leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling in its wake. He switched back to gentler motions as you rode out your high, eventually coming to a halt when you finally stopped twitching. He dropped your leg and climbed to his feet, a glazed sheen against his chin and lips as they found yours, the tangy taste of your cunt invading your senses as he kissed you softly, so very different from just moments ago.

Aemond pulled back, resting his forehead against your own, both of your breathing hard against each other’s mouths.

“I’d get on my knees every day if you asked it of me.” he mumbled.

Your heart fluttered at his words, clenching in your chest.

As he embraced you, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge that had formed in his trousers, but as your hand started to untie its laces, he stopped you, intertwining your fingers together.

“Later.” he whispered, laying a soft peck on your lips “I wanted to do this for you.”

“Let me assist you, like you have done for me.” you pleaded, voice a bit hoarse from how loudly you had been chanting his name in pleasure.

“Tis’ but a small inconvenience. I will take care of it by myself later.”

You pulled back only slightly in his arms to look down between the two of you and couldn’t help but jest.

“It seems like quite a large inconvenience if you ask me.” you smirked.

Aemond stared at you, expression blank, for but a beat before bursting out laughing, and you decided right then and there, in his arms, that it was your favorite sound in the whole world. You’d get on dragonback and watch all of Westeros succumb to dragon fire if it meant he’d never stop laughing. You could only hope on bated breath your wedding arrived sooner rather than later, for you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

High Valyrian translations: - ivestragī ziry jikagon, valzȳrys - let it go, husband - issa sepār mirrī vala, iksā sȳrkta than zirȳla - he is just a little man, you are better than him (meant as in ‘it isn’t worth it’) - ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes - my fierce dragon - ñuha zaldrītsos mīsagon nyke hen mirrī kēlio - my little dragon defending me from a little lion (‘little dragon’ meant affectionately while ‘little lion’ is meant with condescension) - ābrazȳrys - wife - iksā iā ōdres - you are a pain (meant as in ‘you are a menace’) - ñuha brōzi kessa sagon se mērī mēre ao hīghagon - my name will be the only one you scream

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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hisfavegirl · 4 months ago

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Jacaerys Velaryon Masterlist.

One Shot :

One Mistake - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Jace Velaryon.

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Jace Velaryon. Summary : You, the daughter of Alicent Hightower, once married to Aemond Targaryen, find yourself in a marriage born out of duty rather than love. The relationship with Aemond has always been a battleground of lies and heartache, and the arrival of a child born from his affair with Alys Rivers only deepens the chasm between you both.Heartbroken, betrayed, and feeling utterly alone, you escape the suffocating walls of King’s Landing, seeking solace in Dragonstone with your half-sister, Rhaenyra. In this new chapter of your life, you begin to heal, finding peace in the company of those who truly care for you. Among them is Jace, the son of Rhaenyra, whose quiet affection and steady presence begins to rekindle the spark of hope in your heart.

Tangled Hearts - Jace Velaryon x Sister!Reader.

Pairing : Jace Velaryon x Sister!Reader. Summary : You now stood on the precipice of an uncertain future. The very air felt heavy with the weight of the decisions you were about to make. The prophesied marriage to Aemond loomed over you like a shadow, a marriage that had been arranged by your mother in the name of duty and alliance. But your heart was elsewhere, with Jace, your closest confidant and the one you had shared your deepest fears, joys, and love with.

The Edge of Desire - Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader.

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Wife!Reader. Summary : You had entered his life like a storm sweeping through the desert sands. A princess of Dorne, your heritage was as fiery as the blood of Old Valyria that coursed through his veins. Your union had been born of political necessity—an alliance to strengthen Rhaenyra’s claim and solidify ties between the Targaryens and the Martells. But what began as duty quickly became something far deeper, far more consuming. Jace had not expected to fall so utterly, so fiercely. Yet with every smile, every glance, every whispered word exchanged beneath the stars, he found himself more ensnared by you. In you, he saw a partner, an equal, someone who challenged him and brought him peace in equal measure. And in him, you had found not just a husband but a man who would move the heavens and earth for you.

Unlawful Desire - Dark!Jacaerys Velaryon x Sister!Reader

Pairing : Dark!Jacaerys Velaryon x Sister!Reader. Summary : Jace was patient, biding his time as he crafted his manipulations, sowing doubt, pulling at your strings with the gentlest of touches. You were nothing more than a puppet in his eyes, and with each passing day, his control over you tightened. His affection became a weapon, his words laced with poison, all delivered under the guise of love. And as the night wrapped itself around Dragonstone like a cloak, Jace’s plan unfolded, one subtle step at a time. Soon, you would realize that your brother’s affection was never truly about love—it was about power. And once you understood that, it would be too late to escape the web he had spun for you.

Series :

Endless Battle Of Love - Modern!Jacaerys Velaryon x Female.

Pairing : Modern!Jacaerys Velaryon x Female. Summary : Fear had been your constant companion for far too long. It clung to you like a shadow, whispering in your ear, reminding you that escape was impossible. No matter how hard you tried to run, no matter how many times you wished for freedom, the chains of your past held you in place. For years, you endured. Trapped in a relationship that wasn’t built on love, but on control. A prison disguised as an engagement, a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. The weight of it all crushed you—until Jacaerys Velaryon

#hotd #hotd imagine #hotd one shot #hotd x reader #jace targaryen #jace velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jace x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #hotd fanfic

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ilreleonewikiart · 2 days ago

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(Bonus) Fashion Studies

House Rogare – Lys

As mentioned before, even though the Westeros fashion studies series has ended, I wanted to share two bonus studies before reopening commissions—so here we are!

These might even be the start of a new series focused on Essos fashion. Who knows? We'll see 👀

In this upcoming series, the designs are less tied to noble Houses and instead reflect the many roles in Essosi society (like nobles, priests, politicians, and military figures).

This study (and the next one) is based less on canon and more on my AU fanfiction, where House Rogare and the city of Lys play a major role. The clothing designs follow my own headcanons, so they may differ quite a bit from how Lys is portrayed in the books.

Even the family sigil was designed by me!

Let me know if you enjoy this new layout and character arrangement ✨

"House Rogare is one of the oldest families from Lys. It is said that its founder was a certain Lysarro from Tyria, a merchant of pearls who was among the first people to settle in the city after it was created by the Valyrian Freehold; his family then became the first to gain the rank of nobles, after the Doom of Valyria. In time, the Rogare became wealthy and powerful, creating the Rogare Bank, which eventually grew large enough to rival the Iron Bank of Braavos and even surpass it. Under the lead of Lysandro Rogare, First Magister of Lys, whose daughter married Prince Viserys Targaryen in 137 AC, the bank was able to expand its influence even in Westeros, becoming one of the principal investigators of its technological and economic advancement. Lysandro's brother, Drazenko was about to marry Princess Aliandra Martell of Dorne when a mysterious illness killed her and her family. The family, like most of the nobles of Lys, are in the business of prostitution and owns three of the ten most important high-rank brothels on the island - The Perfumed Garden, the Fruits of Spring and the Summer Pleasures - and after the betrothal of to Prince Viserys, they started to expand their business even in King's Landing, where they opened two pleasure gardens, the Spring Delights and the Pearl of the Sea. Unlike the others, the Rogare are famous for breeding and training their Ruklon (male prostitutes) and Pubres (female prostitutes), in order for them to create the finest and the most beautiful bedslaves on Essos and beyond. House Rogare have an important role in the political and economic life of the city, having commissionated the construction of many important public building, like the Great Library, the very first Temple dedicated to the Goddes Adera, the patron of the island and other little sanctuaries to other minor Lyseni deities. Also attributed to them is the construction of the Great Bridge, one of the five bridges that make up the city, the same for the giant copper statue, covered in gold depicting Lior, the God of Trade, in front of the Temple dedicated to the god of the same name. Since some of them are part of the Conclave of Magistrates, they are legally entitled to front-row seats in the city’s huge open-air theater, located in the Blennosos Gevives, the Hill of Beauty, the island’s arts district. Although they have personal basins in their home, by social custom the Rogare, both male and female, usually go to wash themselves in the great and lavish public thermal baths of Vogesso, named in honor of the Magister who had built them a few centuries before, located between the Commerce and Justice districts. The two most emblematic buildings of House Rogare, however, are their Gold Bank and their family residence, located in the easternmost part of the island, atop Golden Hill, The Lenton Queldie. " - TDIOBCB wiki

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asongoficeandfiresource · 1 year ago

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Meta: A Tale of Three Daenerys’

An element of authenticity George R. R. Martin adds to the ASOIAF universe is the repetition of names. The same names appear repeatedly within specific cultures and the spread and popularity of certain names is used to illustrate how one culture has influenced another. Just look at the wide popularity of Targaryen names throughout Westeros, especially Alysanne.

With Daenerys Targaryen, GRRM has created two other characters with her name, so far: Daenerys, daughter of Aegon IV and Naerys, and Daenerys, daughter of Alysanne and Jaehaerys I. Both of these characters seem to be used to lay the groundwork for elements of the canon era Daenerys’ story and character arc.

Daenerys, the Retconned Princess

In The World of Ice and Fire, Jaehaerys I and Alysanne do not have a daughter named Daenerys. In fact, in the main series, Daenerys of Dorne is referred to as the first. But with the release of Fire and Blood Vol 1, Martin restructured the birth order of Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s children, which included not just reshuffling, but also removing and adding children. One of those additions was Princess Daenerys, who took the place of Alyssa as the second born child and oldest daughter of the family.

So the question is, why did Martin retcon TWOIAF just to add a new Daenerys? Part of the reason is likely to flesh out the reign of Jaehaerys and Alysanne with more information and loss. But why name her Daenerys and not Rhaenys after their grandmother or any other name? There is a wealth of Targaryen names Martin could have given this new child, but he chose Daenerys, the name of one of his main five characters in the core series. He likely made that choice to give additional foreshadowing for the canon era character.

At first glance, the two Daenerys’ don’t have much in common with Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s daughter being born into a stable family and kingdom as their oldest living child who grew into a confident girl but died young, while our Dany was born an orphan and an exile, and grew up constantly afraid, gaining confidence and strength in her teens. In that way, they are narrative foils. But where the foreshadowing comes in is with how Alysanne views her daughter.

Based on a combination of moments in Fire and Blood, there is a possibility that Alysanne had the gift of foresight, like other Targaryens in the series. For some unexplained reason, Alysanne is very insistent on Daenerys becoming queen after her father. This is strange because equal primogeniture is not the norm in their culture. Visenya did not become queen regnant, her younger brother Aegon became king. Rhaena did not become queen regnant, her two younger brothers and uncle became kings, though Aegon the Uncrowned was only a claimant. What’s more, Alysanne never pushes for Rhaena’s rights over Jaehaerys’. But she does push for Daenerys’ rights over her son’s. Why? Because she knows Daenerys will be a great queen:

[Princess Daenerys] so enchanted Alysanne that for a time Her Grace even began to eschew council sessions, preferring to spend her days playing with her daughter and reading her the stories that her own mother had once read to her. “She is so clever, she will be reading to me before long,” she told the king. “She is going to be a great queen, I know it.” – Fire and Blood

This is a rare issue where Alysanne is certain about something, but turns out to be wrong, since her daughter dies before having the opportunity to become queen regnant. It is very possible that Alysanne’s certainty over her daughter’s future and Martin’s purpose for retconning this child into existence was to foreshadow Dany’s eventual position as Queen of Westeros. Often with prophetic visions, they can be misunderstood by the person experiencing them as seen with Daeron the Drunken and Daemon II Blackfyre in the Dunk and Egg novellas. While both of their dreams came true, they happened very differently than what they initially believed. So the great queen named Daenerys who Alysanne might have seen wasn’t her daughter but her distant descendant.

Daenerys of Dorne

The Princess Daenerys who married Maron Martell was initially mentioned in passing in a Dunk and Egg novella, The Sworn Sword, but wasn’t named in the text until A Dance With Dragons where her connection to both the series era Dany and Martell family was emphasized. She is cited by Davos as the person Dany was named after and is the source of the Targaryen blood that gives Quentyn the belief that he can tame one of the dragons. She is also the reason the Water Gardens were built and through that palace was able to impact every generation of Dornish children after her.

Unlike the previous Daenerys, there are quite a few parallels between Daenerys of Dorne and the canon era Dany. They were both the products of extremely unhappy and abusive marriages. They each had significant age gaps between them and their siblings, with their older brother having reached adulthood and had a child or children of his own by the time of their birth. Their brothers married them to men outside of their culture. While Dany was exchanged for the promise of an army to take back Westeros, Princess Daenerys’s marriage was part of a treaty that united Dorne with the rest of Westeros. Both women marry for duty despite loving other men. Each of them are particularly protective and caring toward children. They also look beyond the social status of individuals and see that everyone is equally worthy of protection and a quality life.

While Dany pushes for freedom and justice in Slaver’s Bay, Princess Daenerys used her position in Dorne to benefit children regardless of class:

“Beautiful and peaceful,” the prince said. “Cool breezes, sparkling water, and the laughter of children. The Water Gardens are my favorite place in this world, ser. One of my ancestors had them built to please his Targaryen bride and free her from the dust and heat of Sunspear. Daenerys was her name. She was sister to King Daeron the Good, and it was her marriage that made Dorne part of the Seven Kingdoms. The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron’s bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him. It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer’s day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day."

——

"I told the story to Ser Balon, but not all of it. As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. ‘There is your realm,’ she told her son and heir, 'remember them, in everything you do.’ My own mother said those same words to me when I was old enough to leave the pools. It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win.– ADWD

It might seem like a simple thing to allow a large amount of commoner children to partake in privileges alongside highborn and royal children, but this is hugely significant since it allows children of higher stations to form positive relationships with children of lower classes. The rest of Westeros does this at a far smaller degree, but usually at the convenience of the highborn. This act essentially put all of the children who stay at the Water Gardens on equal footing, even temporarily so they can all see that at their core, they are all made the same. This allows the royalty and nobility to empathize with commoners which will impact the choices that will impact everyone. Princess Daenerys’ impact on the ruling family kept Dorne mostly out of the War of the Five Kings, meaning that while the common people of nearly every region have been slaughtered and abused in the conflict, only one Dornishman has died so far, Oberyn Martell, a prince in full control of his actions rather than thousands of commoners ordered onto the battlefield.

Even though Dany is still a queen at war in the series, there are similarities between her motivation and choices. As noted above, both Daenerys’ have a weakness for children. Princess Daenerys fills the Water Gardens with “laughing children”. Dany wishes to do the same:

I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. – ACOK

But more than that dream, when it comes to children Dany shows she is willing to take direct action to protect and avenge them. When the slavers of Meereen murder slave children and taunt Dany by mounting their bodies on milepost, Dany made sure to see them herself: "I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.” (ASOS) Then she avenged them by killing the exact number of slavers in the same way the children were killed. Even when she doubts whether she did the right thing, she insists it was done for the children. Then, when Drogon kills a child, Hazzea, Dany tries to chain all of her dragons so that never happens again, though she only manages to capture two of the three. Despite the fact that she considers the dragons to be her own children, it only takes the death of one child to push her to imprison them, showing just how much she prioritizes the lives of these people. Even when it comes to the children of the slavers, Dany refuses to harm them regardless of what crimes the adult slaver commit:

Dany had grown fond of her young charges. Some were shy and some were bold, some sweet and some sullen, but all were innocent. – ADWD

Where the strongest parallel comes into play is with the way both Daenerys’ realize that there is no fundamental difference between people of different social classes since they are the same when brought down to their bare essentials:

On another island two lovers kissed in the shade of tall green trees, with no more shame than Dothraki at a wedding. Without clothing, [Dany] could not tell if they were slave or free. – ASOS

As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. – ADWD

The only thing that separates the highborn from the low or the free and the enslaved are societal restrictions. Since there are no natural physical differences between people of different ranks in society, that means they are all deserving of freedom and good lives. While Princess Daenerys acted upon this realization to effect change through the inclusion of all children from different walks of life into the Water Gardens, Dany fights for the freedom of slaves and allows freedmen places of power in her government and gives them a voice at court alongside people who were born free. Here are just a few of the many examples of Dany attempting to establish equality for the freedmen:

Reznak would have summoned another tokar next, but Dany insisted that he call upon a freedman. Thereafter she alternated between the former masters and the former slaves. – ADWD

Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Dany’s councils. – ADWD

“The freedmen work too cheaply, Magnificence,” Reznak said. “Some call themselves journeymen, or even masters, titles that belong by rights only to the craftsmen of the guilds. The masons and the bricklayers do respectfully petition Your Worship to uphold their ancient rights and customs.”

“The freedmen work cheaply because they are hungry,” Dany pointed out. “If I forbid them to carve stone or lay bricks, the chandlers, the weavers, and the goldsmiths will soon be at my gates asking that they be excluded from those trades as well.” She considered a moment. “Let it be written that henceforth only guild members shall be permitted to name themselves journeymen or masters … provided the guilds open their rolls to any freedman who can demonstrate the requisite skills.” – ADWD

Princess Daenerys also helped to cement a permanent peace between House Targaryen and House Martell with her marriage uniting Westeros. That combined with the tradition of creating a closer bond between people of different classes and the continued caution on thinking of the people while making decisions that will affect them, she continues her legacy of peace. Our Dany also keeps the people who choose to follow her at the forefront of her thoughts with every decision she makes. She too wishes for peace and takes action to achieve that, even at her own detriment.

“Peace is my desire. You say that you can help me end the nightly slaughter in my streets. I say do it. Put an end to this shadow war, my lord. That is your quest. Give me ninety days and ninety nights without a murder, and I will know that you are worthy of a throne. Can you do that?” - Daenerys IV ADWD

She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. - Daenerys VIII ADWD

Like all good queens she put her people first—else she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraq—but the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. – ADWD

Conclusion

While the three Daenerys’ don’t have anything close to similar lives, each of the Daenerys’ of the past seem to intentionally have call backs or call forwards to the series era Dany. Both of them seem to foreshadow Dany’s current and future storylines with pushes for social progress and her future as the reigning Queen of Westeros. So far, Martin has included only three characters with this name, but with the positive change Dany is bringing to Essos and will bring to Westeros when she helps save the world from the Others, it would only be natural for the name to grow in popularity.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen (daughter of jaehaerys)#daenerys targaryen (daughter of aegon iv)#canondany #gotdaenerystargaryen #targnation #targaryensource #asoiaf #asoiafedit #gotedit #hotdedit #gameofthronesdaily #iheargot #usergif #litedit #tvgifs #dailyflicks #house targaryen

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shesjustanothergeek · 8 months ago

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The Gods We Can Touch

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Testimonies of Princess Aelora Targaryen’s Youth

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: This is kind of a filler chapter until I can finish chapter 7. I was planning on either putting this at the end of chapter 6 or the beginning of chapter 7, but here is as good as any. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be able to finish chapter 7 by next Sunday. Thank you for your support and patience. Love y'all! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

Chapter Warnings: mentions of childhood SA, mental illness, suicidal ideations, Targaryen queerness.

Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest child blossomed into a captivating presence at Dragonstone, earning admiration from those close to her but invoking fear and ire in those who dared to cross her. Known for her unpredictable temperament, she would fall into fits of anger and sorrow, during which her judgment would become clouded, leading to subsequent regret. In bouts of profound grief, she sought solace in Aegon’s Garden with the company of flora and fauna, finding peace and consolation by tending to the roses and lilacs and fashioning delicate flower crowns for her siblings to wear.

When Princess Aelora was approximately ten and two, eyewitnesses observed her standing on the balcony railing for an extended period during one of her episodes, seemingly trance-like. Despite numerous attempts to persuade her to step down, she adamantly refused, stating her desire for a better view of the landscape. In response to this concerning behavior, Princess Rhaenyra took the drastic measure of ordering the balcony doors to be permanently sealed shut. The exact cause of her distressing episodes remains shrouded in mystery. While many attributed it to the infamous Targaryen madness in her bloodline, the Fool Mushroom believed it was linked to a specific incident involving Prince Aegon during her early years.

Late one night, he claims to have spied on Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon in their bed chambers on Dragonstone. He overheard the Princess confiding in her husband about her eldest’s behavioral problems and impulsivity. He alleges that she confessed to a rape committed by Prince Aegon on her daughter while they were living in King’s Landing. However, this information is heavily debated, as there has been no further mention in oral or written records.

When Princess Aelora reached ten and four, scandalous rumors began circulating on Dragonstone about her relationship with her twin brother, Prince Jacaerys. It was whispered that their stepfather went to her rooms after reports of suspicious sounds emerging from behind closed. Prince Daemon was rumored to have discovered the Prince in a compromising position between the legs of the Princess. In response to the gossip, Princess Rhaenyra sent her daughter to study abroad at the Citadel and in Dorne as a gesture of goodwill, hoping it would ease her troubled mind. This separation was particularly difficult for the twins, as it was the first time they had ever been apart. Prince Jacaerys was visibly upset during this time, spending hours upon end sulking inside his chambers and absconding his duties until Princess Aelora finally returned home once they both came of age.

Nevertheless, Princess Aelora radiated warmth and kindness to all she encountered. She was admired for her outgoing and naive nature, and she took great delight in her love for nature, herbalism, botany, and medical techniques gathered from her journeys around the realm. Her fondness for citrus plants was evident as she carried the sweet scent of the fruits wherever she roamed, though they were difficult to cultivate on Dragonstone’s soil. Adorned in her late father’s distinguished Velaryon blue, she was never seen without the elegance of pearls, aquamarine, topaz, and sapphire, with a delicate headpiece and veil enshrouding her dark, lustrous locks.

When eligible suitors ventured to Dragonstone intending to court Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter, she dismissively turned them away, leaving the cock hurt Lords to return home scorned. It was said that during a gathering of the court, Princess Aelora boldly declared that she harbored no yearning for a marital alliance, as she found solace in the enduring companionship of her beloved dragon Gaelithox and her loyal brother, firmly indicating that she had no intention of entering into matrimony.

IMO, the reader suffers from borderline personality disorder. People with BPD are often mistaken for having depression, but the main qualifier is periods of mania with impulsivity, which is more susceptible to hypersexuality and addictions. They're typically triggered by actual or perceived separations, disagreements, and rejections. Highly sensitive to abandonment and being alone, which brings about intense feelings of anger, fear, suicidal thoughts and self-harm, and very impulsive decisions. People with high-functioning BPD experience frequent negative thoughts, fear of rejection, and regret about expressing their feelings. I'm by no means a mental health expert. This is just my head cannon.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Jace and the reader fulfill the Targaryen queerness. Who would've thought? XD

Thank you for reading! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

P.S. the reader wears what's called a French hood. I couldn't find one that matched her aesthetic unfortunately.

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

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atopvisenyashill · 7 months ago

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Please bring back the anon mode, I fear sharing my opinions publicly like the coward I am. Since your name is atop Visenya’s hills, I have to ask

Do you think the fandom mischaracterize her too much? I always see it in fanart, discussions that Visenya was the big bad person and Rhaenys the good natured silly princess and last time I checked both of them were trifling at times. I like Rhaenys duality as a trifling at times character but truth is still that she was wilding out.

Rhaenys went ahead and instigated a war in Dorne by bunting Planky Town😭 civilians, not the ports, not the exits, old, women, and children😭 I never seen one conquest of hers where she didn’t get to violence.

Rhaenys depsite being the favourite wife still had affairs. Before the “rumours by the maesters” gang come for me, Rhaenys was the most liked of the two wives. Visenya is accused of sorcery and even when it’s admitted people thought she was beautiful they had to add “Even those who loved her best found her beauty to be more austere than her sister Rhaenys”. They can’t even let her have her stans. It’s also funny that Rhaenys surrounds herself with comely young men, can you imagine a man surrounding himself of comely young ladies, mummers and dancers, no matter how fond of the arts he was! Now Aegon still spending 10 nights with Rhaenys over Visenya maybe a form of cuck fetish, maybe she was having affairs to stress him out so he’d overdo attention to her but that’s not my point. Maybe since it was an unconventional marriage they all fucked whoever they liked and Rhaenys is the one who got caught. Whatever

Visenya maybe was sterner but she wasn’t without softness or warmth. Created the Kingsguard, had sense to not surround herself with side pieces, and she was nice enough to Ronnel to be comfortable with her, the child didn’t seem distress by her presence despite the giant dragons so I assume she wasn’t all mean.

People often use the usurpation as a defining moment but often forget that for YEARS she’s kinda been pushed to the limit? Aegon straight up neglected her son and left them on Dragonstone, man approved the match to Ceryse who was 10 years older. And Aegon absolutely fostered the distance between Aenys and Maegor because there’s no other way Aenys would feel bold enough to take Dragonstone from Maegor. Not to forget Aegon had married her to steal her claim to Dragonstone since if married, his claim would supercede hers.

Another mis characterization is that Rhaenys is always curvier (hips, chest) mind you she was the slender one, but Visenya is explicitly described as curvaceous and seductive. They even took away her titties and her rizz😭 FREE VISENYA

asljfdlksjdafdkj sorry i kept getting like mean anon messages, i was honestly deleting the most out of pocket ones and posting the ones i thought were funny but i had gotten like 6 in one day and i was like alright enough i can't fucking do this rn and that's why i turned anon off but i'll probably turn it back on soon.

last time I checked both of them were trifling at times.

no because REAL. i do think visenya often has this reputation In The General Fandom as this like unfeeling evil ice queen, not dissimilar from for comparison's sake the way cersei and catelyn are characterized in fandom - her flaws are inflated or made contextless from what she has experienced and people just kinda pretend like she's a one note villain to Rhaenys' sweet charming queen. but i don't think that's at all accurate to how she's characterized in the series nor do i think rhaenys as the ~sweet never wrong favored wife~ is very accurate for Rhaenys. Look at the beginning of the conquest for an example - Visenya rolls up to Cracklaw Point, to a people who don't really want her there, and instead of just threatening them with fire and blood, she just kinda points at Harrenhal and goes "if you submit right now without a fight i won't give you any overlord but the crown itself" which is a pretty nice deal for a region that has been regularly fighting off being ruled by other people! she takes it bloodlessly through diplomacy! now what does rhaenys do when she goes to dorne? she immediately starts making threats! she refuses to see why perhaps the descendants of the rhoynar aren't high on the idea of being ruled by what's left of valyria! she just threatens and leaves. and when it's time to take dorne, what does she do? she burns planky town the home of the orphans of the greenblood, the last stronghold of rhoynish customs and culture! she completely and totally botches the dornish conquest!!

now this isn't to say that visenya isn't also a) weird about dorne (because basically every single targaryen up until daeron ii is weird as shit about dorne) and b) full of vicious and self righteous violence herself. but as you say both of them do some extremely stupid shit yet only one of them has a reputation for being evil!

and yeah, the thing is, while i think aegon is very smart in how he handles his lords (again, outside of dorne) he is dumb as a box of rocks about how he handles his own sons. he's just very clearly playing favorites, letting the rift get bigger and bigger, actively antagonizing visenya, and not only that but like - visenya isn't wrong that there is a slight succession issue here between maegor and rhaena, given that visenya is the oldest wife and the first wife, but he completely handwaves this off, which really heavily implies a rejection of visenya and maegor completely. should they have reacted the way they did? well no lmao but it's stupid to pretend like aegon doesn't set his kids up for failure here when he sees how deeply unhappy visenya and maegor are and does absolutely nothing to help the situation.

Also damn you're right, I have always had this issue with the way the conquerors are depicted, especially the women as being these two barbie bombshells but like, canonically, VISENYA IS HOTTER the same way Rhaena is considered hotter than Alysanne but whereas Alysanne always gets depicted with her yellow hair and mismatched eyes and a kind of cute, round face to Rhaena's much more Valyrian steely looks, Rhaenys is ALWAYS this Valyrian bombshell. Rhaenys should be drawn the same as Alyssa T and Alysanne though like where do we think they got their looks hmmmm??? IT WAS RHAENYS. RHAENYS IS NOT A BOMBSHELL SHE'S A REGULAR LADY. SHE'S 'CUTEST GIRL IN YOUR ANTHROPOLOGY 101 CLASS' HOT!!!!!!! SHE'S NOT A MODEL!!!!!!!!!

#JUSTICE FOR VISENYA MY GIRL DID THAT SHIT BUT SHE HAD GOOD REASONS #asks #romanoff carter

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libraesthetiques · 2 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀mothers and daughters existing as wretched mirrors of each other: i am all you could have been and you are all i might be.

⠀⠀⠀⠀【 jewish princess of dorne & elia martell 】 ⠀

#asoiaf #asoiaf edit #princess of dorne #elia martell #jewish fancast #jewish dorne #mine: edits #series: jewish dorne #i adore them <3

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rennalaqotfm · 9 months ago

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𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART I)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Content Warning: Swearing and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said.

WC: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

(A/N at the end of the chapter)

The cold castle of Dragonstone stirred back to life in the early evening as the Black Council was hastily reunited after receiving news from an unknown sender, most likely one of Lady Mysaria's informants. The hall was silent as the members of the council cocked their brows in confusion.

"An alliance with the Triarchy?" Rhaenyra Targaryen shook her head in disbelief.

Daemon took the message from her, not believing what she had just said. He tossed the piece of parchment on the table, letting everyone have a look.

"An alliance with the Free Cities is a risk, but a necessary one nonetheless. Their hold on power currently hinges heavily on Vhagar. Aemond knows that the city will be defenceless once Vhagar leaves King's Landing and we could easily overtake it. That is when the Triarchy will come in, to break the blockade of the Gullet," Daemon said, adding a ship figurine to the Table Map.

"We should have enough ships—" Lord Corlys said.

"Forgive me, Lord Corlys, but I do not think they will be enough. The Triarchy can muster a much larger naval power than any house in Westeros, including House Velaryon."

"Are you underestimating my fleet, my King Consort?" Lord Corlys said through his teeth.

"I am just being realistic. It is not just the Triarchy we might end up encountering," Daemon countered, adding two more ship figurines to the Table Map. "The Greens know that we will solely be relying on the Velaryon fleet, and with enough luck, we would be able to defend ourselves against the Triarchy. Which is why they would also want to send Hightower and Lannister fleets."

"We would be outnumbered," Rhaenyra muttered.

Daemon shook his head as his eyes scanned the map, realising that the Greens had managed to amass a larger number of allies, from the Crownlands, all the way to the Westerlands. He raised a brow in a particular spot in the South, a place the Targaryens haven't been able to tame after centuries of their rule.

"Not if we make an alliance with the Dornishmen," he finally said.

After a brief moment of silence, everyone in the Black Council but Daemon erupted in laughter.

"I don't know which is worse, the Greens making an alliance with the Triarchy or us with those goatfuckers," Ulf laughed.

"Have we no other choice?" Rhaenyra muttered, staring at the map. "The Hightower and Lannister navies would need to sail around Dorne before reaching the blockade, after all."

"My Queen, you cannot possibly be considering this," Jacaerys stepped forward. "We cannot make a deal with those barbarians. Our houses have been at each other's throats for generations... What makes you think that they would want to help us? There is a reason why the Greens would rather turn to the Triarchy instead of House Martell."

"The Prince is right, my Queen," Lord Corlys said. "We do not know how those Dornishmen operate, where their loyalties lie. What if they withdraw their support after making a deal, or demand more than we agreed upon? I should not be reminding you of this, my Queen, but the Dornishmen... Well, they are known for being unpredictable. They might even end up switching sides and joining the Greens."

"That will not be happening, Lord Corlys. After all, the Greens are still Targaryens. At present, the Dornishmen have a neutral stance. They do not wish to partake in this war—"

"Because they're just watching everything from afar and placing bets on who's gonna win," Ulf sniggered, earning a glare from Rhaenyra.

"As I was saying, they do not wish to partake in this war," Rhaenyra paused, watching as Daemon picked up another ship figurine and placed it strategically in front of the Hightower and Lannister ships. "But if we manage to convince them to join us, then we could eliminate the Triarchy and block the Summer Sea, preventing the Lannister and Hightower fleets from crossing it."

"Convince them to join us? How are we going to do that?" Lord Corlys shook his head, growing irritated as Rhaenyra seemed to have decided to carry on with the plan. "This is another reason why Aemond has not even bothered negotiating with those barbarians in the first place. Those Dornishmen—House Martell... they would not easily accept any deal. They are too proud. And in this case, we need them more than they need us. We cannot show our desperation or else they will bleed us out—"

"But we are growing desperate, Lord Corlys, and we are running out of options," Rhaenyra raised her voice, causing everyone in the Council to flinch. "The Velaryon fleet alone does not stand a chance against all of them."

"This is absolutely—" Lord Corlys burst out, clenching his fists as he tried to hold his ire.

"Making a deal with them would be the hardest part, but I am certain they would be satisfied if we offered them a dragon," Daemon suggested. "Ulf, how do you feel about flying to Sunspear with Silverwing and spending the rest of your days with those... goatfuckers?"

"I don't really have a choice do I?" He grimaced. "But it wouldn't be all too bad, I s'ppose. I've yet to taste a beautiful Dornishwoman and—"

"Looks like it is sorted," Daemon waved his hand, cutting him off.

"Send a raven to Sunspear," Rhaenyra ordered Maester Gerardys.

"My Queen, please listen to me," Jacaerys raised his voice, catching everybody's attention. "This risk that we are taking is completely unnecessary. We do not even know whether the Greens would be sending the Hightower and Lannister fleets. If they do not, then we would have wasted our time in trying to reason with those savages. Besides, how would that make us look? To think that you are even considering trading Silverwing for a handful of ships..."

The Black Council grew quiet, letting Jacearys' words hang in the air, and they hummed in agreement.

"Listen, boy," Daemon cut him off. "Aemond just burned Sharp Point out of anger. Do you think he is the type to hold back? He is going to want to strike with everything he has, and House Lannister and Hightower would not want to miss a single chance to appease him."

"But House Martell—?" Jacaerys snapped.

"It will not just be House Martell, Jacaerys. If we somehow manage to convince them, then other Dornish houses will follow. Think about House Allyrion, Blackmont, Dayne..." Rhaenyra tried to reason with her son. "Maester Gerardys, send a raven to Sunspear. Now. We have no time to spare."

The room was filled with exasperation. Some were nodding their heads, murmuring and pointing at the map, whilst others shook their heads yet kept their mouths shut nonetheless. The maester himself began to hesitate as he began to write the message:

To the Honourable Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear,

In these dire times, as the fleets of the Triarchy, Hightower, and Lannister press upon us, Her Grace, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, seeks the aid of House Martell to join forces with our Velaryon allies at sea. In return for your assistance, we offer the protection of our dragon, Silverwing, as a symbol of our alliance and mutual respect. We acknowledge the history between our houses, but now, unity is essential more than ever. We hope to set aside past tensions and forge a partnership that will benefit both our realms.

From Maester Gerardys, in service to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

To Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,

House Martell has long stood apart from the conflicts of the rest of the realm, and we see no benefit in entangling our house in this war. Our independence is our strength, and we will not risk it, even for the promise of a dragon. Dorne will continue to walk its own path.

Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear.

Three weeks have already passed, only to receive a cold rejection from the Martells. Their enemies were already making their move, as according to one of Lady Mysaria's informants within the Red Keep, the Green Council had agreed to send Tyland Lannister as an envoy and were soon going to start preparing the ship for the lengthy journey to the Free Cities.

After reading the message, Rhaenyra scoffed and threw the note in the fireplace, watching as the paper shrivelled into ashes. The Council needn't ask what the Martells had replied since the indignation from the rejection was written all over her face.

"I told you they were too proud, my Queen. Making a deal with those savages... it was never going to work," Lord Corlys said.

"Do not give up so easily Lord Corlys. That just meant our deal was not good enough," Daemon said.

"You cannot be serious. They have already refused to help, even with the promise of a dragon," Jacaerys snapped. Baela placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"What else could they possibly want?" Rhaenyra inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes.

Daemon paced back and forth as his eyes wandered on everyone present in the hall.

"Maester Gerardys, remind us again of the children Prince Qoren has sired," Daemon asked.

"Don't name the bastards, though. We'd be stuck 'ere forever," Ulf joked, only to be met by an awkward silence and glares from those in the council.

"His eldest is a daughter of two-and-twenty, Princess Y/n Martell; Prince Elyas Martell, of nine-and-ten; and Prince Farien Martell, of seven, my King Consort," Maester Gerardys said.

"And is Princess Y/n betrothed?" Daemon asked.

"Not that I am aware of, my King Consort."

"It seems that securing an heir is not her main priority," Rhaenyra muttered. "I wonder why she remains unwed..."

"Well, with the number of bastards Prince Qoren has sired, they would never run out of heirs," Lord Corlys muttered under his breath.

"I do not know, my Queen. I am not entirely familiar with Dornish customs, but I have heard that Prince Qoren has yet to find a suitable match for his daughter," Maester Gerardys said.

"If I may speak, my Queen," Addam bowed his head, waiting for Rhaenyra's nod of approval. "Some of the men who've sailed in Dornish waters have shared stories about why Princess Y/n Martell remains unwed. It's not that Prince Qoren hasn't found a suitable match for his daughter; rather, many of those suitors have met... untimely ends. Their bodies have been discovered in the desert, feasted upon by scorpions. Of course, I can't say how much of this is true and how much is mere sailor's tale."

"Fuckin' hell..." Ulf exclaimed in amusement at Addam's story. "Hopefully that princess was worth dying for."

The Council grimaced, their prejudice somehow convincing them that everything they'd just heard was true. Jacaerys was starting to grow uneasy, feeling Daemon's gaze piercing his as Addam of Hull told the story. He didn't like where the conversation was going, and even if he knew what Daemon was going to say, he still wasn't prepared to hear those words.

"We present Jacaerys as a suitor for Prince Qoren's daughter," Daemon declared, silencing the council.

"No. No. Absolutely not," Jacaerys clenched his fists, his voice trembling with anger as he shook his head furiously. "I am to wed Princess Baela," his gaze darted to Rhaenyra, desperation in his eyes. "The Queen would never agree to such a preposterous match," he said, searching his mother's face for reassurance. But Rhaenyra's gaze was cast downward, and fear gripped his heart. "Mother... you would not marry me off to a savage, would you?"

Rhaenyra felt her son's pressing gaze upon her, yet she refused to look him in the eye. She turned away from the table and stared at the fireplace illuminating the room, trying to find answers in the dancing embers. At first, she found Daemon's proposal outrageous, but his unconventional thinking often led to surprisingly effective strategies. The fire seemed to whisper to her, telling her it was the right thing to do. The Martells. Dorne. She slowly began to realise that if they managed to secure the support of House Martell, and most importantly, the hand of Princess Y/n, then the whole realm would be united.

However, as everyone in the Black Council had already warned her, it wouldn't be an easy feat. House Martell despised the Targaryens after the mass destruction Aegon the Conqueror had caused during the First Dornish War in his attempt to bring Dorne under Targaryen rule. Cities were burned to the ground, leaving much of Dorne a barren waste of sand and ashes. But even then, the Dornish resisted. Led by House Martell, Dorne fought fiercely for their independence at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives. Yet it was all worth it in the end, as they remained free from the binds of Westeros.

Then she thought of her father, Viserys, and his dream of The Song of Ice and Fire, and how he urged her to unite the realm for what was to come. The alliance with Dorne was necessary, and though they were in dire times of war, there was no better time to unite the two realms.

With a heavy heart, she turned to face her son, Prince Jacaerys, whose eyes were full of desperation. As a mother, she had hoped she could've spared the heavy burden of her duties from her beloved son, but it couldn't be helped. He was going to be the Crown, and sooner or later, he was bound to carry the burden one way or another.

Rhaenyra exhaled and slowly nodded her head, mustering the courage to speak her final decision. If there was one thing she could handle, it was the hatred from her enemies and the smallfolk, but being despised by her own son was something she wasn't sure she could bear.

"Maester Gerardys," Rhaenyra spoke, trying to ignore how her son's eyes widened in disbelief at her words. "Send another raven to Sunspear for a marriage proposal between Prince Jacaerys and Princess Y/n."

Jacaerys stormed out of the room, and Baela looked at Rhaenyra for permission to go after him.

As Rhaenyra looked at the Table Map, she felt a hand momentarily ghost at the small of her back.

"You made the right call, my Queen," Daemon whispered, his lips lightly brushing against her ear, causing a chill to run down her spine.

To the Honourable Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear,

I write to you once more on behalf of Her Grace, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, about the proposal concerning an alliance between our houses. While we understand and respect your initial decision, the urgency of our situation compels us to make another appeal. In light of the escalating threat posed by the combined forces of the Greens, we recognise that the need for strong allies has never been more critical. As such, we wish to renew our proposal.

Her Grace is prepared to betroth her son, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, who eagerly seeks the hand of your daughter, Princess Y/n Martell. We believe that this union will not only strengthen our positions but also signify an enduring alliance between House Targaryen and House Martell.

From Maester Gerardys, in service to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Rhaenyra's footsteps echoed in the stone hallways of the castle as she made her way to her son's chambers. The night was quiet, nothing but the flickering sounds of the torches and the distant waves crashing against the shore could be heard. A few days had passed since she ordered Maester Gerardys to send the raven to Sunspear, and she decided that it was best to give Jacaerys some space so he could come to terms with his future betrothal to Princess Y/n.

Jacaerys refused to speak to anyone, not even Baela, and Rhaenyra's concern for her son was beginning to keep her awake at night to the point she began to question her decisions. However, the raven had already been set, and there was no turning back.

Rhaenyra knocked on the door, only to get no answer. After the second and third try, she sighed, debating whether she should just give up and leave her son. But she knew how Jacaerys felt, and she couldn't bear to see him so distant, losing himself at the thought of marrying a foreign princess they all knew little to none of. Rhaenyra thought Jacaerys was justified to feel the way he did.

She was pleased the marriage proposal between Jacaerys and Baela was approved by her father Viserys. She thought she could give her son the gift of betrothing someone close to him, someone familiar, someone he could eventually grow to love, just as she had been lucky to have been married to Laenor first, and though they weren't each other's preferences, they managed to come to an agreement.

"Jace, let me in," she said one last time. "We need to talk."

Jacaerys still refused to reply, and she expected as much. Rhaenyra slowly opened the door, only to find her son looking through the windows, watching how the waves violently crashed against the cliffs. She couldn't believe how much her son had grown over those past few years, the babe she used to carry in her arms had turned into a man of eight-and-ten, with sharp, handsome features and dark brown curls framing his face. Her heart was full of pride knowing that the Crown would be in good hands with her son, as not only he excelled in politics and affairs of the realm, but he possessed the kindness and compassion her father Viserys did.

"Jace..." She slowly approached her son, placing a hand on his broad shoulder.

He flinched at her touch and stepped away, refusing to look at her.

"I wish to be alone, Mother."

Rhaenyra closed her eyes and sighed, leaning forward as she also gazed at how the ocean infinitely stretched before her eyes, not knowing how to address the situation.

"I cannot even imagine how you must feel, Jace. If your grandsire had put me in the same position as you, my feelings would not be any different from yours... Though I still recall how your grandsire had me sit down and meet a never-ending line of suitors," she smiled sadly, feeling the soft breeze of the sea blow gently on her face.

Although Jacaerys remained silent, she still listened to his mother. They rarely had the opportunity to talk so casually about matters he deemed trivial, but he always appreciated those few times they got to talk about anything but war and politics.

"My grandsire already approved of my betrothal with Baela," he mumbled. "I wonder what he would think if he found out you wanted to wed me to a savage."

The sound of the sea seemed to have carried the whispers of her father's wish, as she heard distant voices murmuring The Song of Ice and Fire.

"Your grandsire would be proud," she smiled.

Jacaerys turned to look at her with furrowed brows, wondering if what she had just said was nothing more than a jest. But when his gaze met hers, he could see the love her mother carried for his grandsire Viserys reflected in her eyes.

"Before your grandsire made me heir, he said that I must unite the realm, and this alliance with House Martell is the key to that. This is not just about the ships and this war, Jace. It is beyond that. There are things you will come to understand in time. If this betrothal between you Princess Y/n comes forth, the two of you would finally be uniting the Seven Kingdoms," Rhaenyra said, with a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Jacaerys hadn't seen in a long time.

"I know my duty as the Crown Prince, Mother," Jacaerys said, his voice heavy with resignation. "I understand that there is no undoing the proposal," he sighed. "But it pains me deeply, how you all discussed it as if I were nothing more than a pawn in a game, moved around as you see fit. Baela and I have known each other since childhood; it feels only natural that we should marry. We were just talking about the ceremony we would have once the war is over, imagining weeks of feasting and celebration... only to have it all snatched away from us."

"I am not saying you should, but if worst comes to worst, you could always make an... arrangement with Princess Y/n," Rhaenyra said.

"An arrangement?" Jacaerys scoffed, shaking his head. "What for? So I can sire more bastards like me?"

Rhaenyra's features hardened as she glared at her son, a flare of anger igniting within her as he brought up those bitter rumours she had buried deeply in her memories.

"Do not speak of yourself that way," Rhaenyra snapped, her voice shaking as she spoke. "You are a true Targaryen, born of fire and blood, and of salt and sea. Let no one, not even yourself, suggest otherwise."

Jacaerys shook his head, growing tired of hearing the same words of denial coming from his mother.

"I will do what I must for the realm and I will do my best to win the hand of Princess Y/n," Jacaerys muttered in defeat with his gaze cast downwards. "But I will not repeat your mistakes, Mother. I swear I will not sire any bastards, for I will not condemn my future children to face the same humiliation and torment that has haunted me all these years."

To Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,

How amusing it is, to send a mere bird in place of a prince, when seeking the hand of my beloved daughter. Mayhaps you are unaware of our customs, or mayhaps you believe a Targaryen name is worth more than the effort or courtesy. Here in Dorne, we value actions over titles. The hand of my daughter is not something to be bargained for in letters.

Prince Qoren Martell of Sunspear.

"My Queen, Ser Tyland Lannister has been reported to depart to the Free Cities on the morrow," Lady Mysaria spoke before the council.

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw in irritation, not taking House Martell's second rejection well. Daemon read the message over her shoulder, amused at the words of Prince Qoren. Jacaerys hoped that his mother would give up the negotiations, but after the discussion they had weeks ago, he knew that she was going to do everything in her power to secure the deal with House Martell.

"Calling us cravens for sending a raven..." Daemon sneered. "What, were they expecting us to march to Sunspear in person, just to deliver the message?"

"We are running out of time, my Queen. It's only a matter of weeks before Ser Tyland reaches the Free Cities if the winds are in their favour," Lady Mysaria said.

"That is not all, my Queen," Maester Gerardys intervened, concerned. "Just as the King Consort predicted, we have just received various ravens from our allies reporting that they have sighted an alarming number of fleets departing from Lannisport and Oldtown a fortnight ago."

The Queen breathed in, feeling the pressure to make a decision as the enemy took another step. Reading Qoren Martell's letter one final time, she crumpled the parchment in her fist and turned to her council.

"Value actions over titles..." Rhaenyra muttered at the boldness of his words. "If what he desires are actions, that is what he shall get. Daemon, Jacaerys and I shall depart for Sunspear on the morrow on dragonback."

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed the first part of this series. This chapter was basically the Targaryens and the Martells sending emails at each other lol. I don't wanna spoil anything but this story will kinda go from 0-100 hehe. Chapter 2 is like 90% finished, but still needs a lot of editing. Anyway, would you guys prefer if I have a regular updating schedule (once a week), or if I just upload whenever a chapter is finished (obviously there will be times when I won't be able to update as much but I sometimes get random bursts of energy)? I would love to know what you think.

If you wish to be added to the taglist, please fill out this form for easier management.

Until next time ;)

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year ago

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Game of Thrones Fic List

🖤= tw:dark content

🍑= smut

📚= series/multi-part

💌= requested

For Whom the Bell Tolls (Margaery Tyrell x Baratheon!Reader)

A glance and a sassy comment. The more time you two spent alone together, the less of a sister you became to one another. It wasn’t your intention to fall in love with the wife of your brother. You had never really felt bad about it when Maragery was married to Joffrey, but now that she was wed to your sweet Tommen. . . You couldn’t do that to your sweet lion.

Between Saints and Sinners (Sandor Clegane x Reader)

It had been years since you last saw Sandor Clegane. Years since you had last been in employment at Lord Baelish’s brothel.

A Stark Bride (Aegon Targaryen i x Stark!Reader)

Aegon Targaryen reduced your father, Torrhen Stark, to a mere lord. The Targaryen conqueror had taken the title of king for himself. You wanted to depise them, those beautiful Targaryens with their lavender eyes and silver tresses. But they were beautiful. Terrifying and beautiful just like their dragons.

Promises (Oberyn Martell x Reader) 🖤

Having witnessed the brutal murder of your family, your uncle Oberyn is the only one to fend off your nightmares and the only one you could ever feel an attachment to.

Shedding Skin (Arthur Dayne x Targaryen!Reader)

You wouldn't let your brother Rhaegar humiliate you. No. Faking your own death, you travel to Dorne and there shed your dragon skin to become a new person. A happier person.

A Touch of Gold (Margaery Tyrell x Stark!Reader)

If Renly was to have a lover, then Margaery wanted one as well. And she decided that it just had to be the visiting (y/n) Stark.

Gold and Red (Jaime Lannister x Reader) 🍑

How could you bring yourself to have sex with your child husband? Jaime, however, was a full grown man.

Stupid, Pretty Little Things 🖤

She was the only gift Joffrey wanted for his name day. And Joffrey would be damned if anyone forbade him to what was his.

Targaryen Daughters

After so long staying safely hidden in the privacy of a Sept, you discover your younger sister Daenerys is very well alive. Alive and with three dragons.

A Good, Mean Dog (Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader) 📚

The Princess and the Hound. What a story that would be

Horns That Hold A Crown (Rhaegar Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader)

The only daughter of Steffon Baratheon, and to Aerys you were th eonly suitable bride for his son Rhaegar. Your previokus engagement to Ned Stark was broken. Now you found yourself the bride of a dragon instead that of a wolf.

Ruined Hallelujah (Margaery Tyrell x Baratheon!Reader)

You had expected such a move from Robert, maybe even Stannis, but never from your brother Renly. He was well aware of your affair with Margaery, even supported it. Yet he had married you off to Robb Stark, King in the North.

Misfit (Daenerys Targaryen x Greyjoy!Reader) 🖤

Nightmares, your nightmares were filled with the blazing symbol of a kraken. As you travel with your siblings to Meereen you hope Queen Daenerys would be willing to help you in defeating Euron.

One True Queen (Rhaegar Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader)📚

What he had done was the greatest insult to you. One that you thought he would never do. You knew he loved you with all his heart, that was certain. You were his sister and his wife. However, that all changed when he took Lyanna Stark as his second wife.

Knight in Blue and Red (Rhaegar Targaryen x Tully!Reader)

You wanted to be in charge of Riverrun when your father died, but because you were the third and youngest daughter of Hoster Tully that was highly impossible. You would show him. Show him that you would be a better successor than your brother Edmure.

Belladonna (Young Robert Baratheon x Reader)

With the death of his father, Robert Baratheon found himself the young lord of Storm's End. A new lordship requires a wife.

Dragon (Daenerys Targaryen x Reader)📚

She had trusted her Unsullied with her life. That was why when one attacked her with a knife she doesn't have him killed. Instead Daenerys wants to get down to the problem. Only when she removes the Unsullied's helmet she is met with the face of a young girl.

A Lion’s Vow (Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader)💌

This game the both of you played was your only real entertainment in the mess that was the Red Keep. Knowing it’s true nature, your father attempted to keep you close to his side. Reminding you not to trust anyone easily, especially those that belonged to the House of the Lion.

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den (Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader)📚

A little mouse surrounded by ferocious lions? It didn't look to be a good situation, even if those lions happened to be your family.

Exiled (Arthur Dayne x Reader)💌

You run into Ser Arthur Dayne in Essos. Along with a dark haired, gray eyed child.

Glow (Daenerys Targaryen x Reader)

Why she had taken a liking to you among all the others she had freed, you would never know. You had been a personal whore for one of the masters and had gotten pregnant. There were many others like you. Your story was nothing special, but Dany had found you worthy enough to be her close companion. There were even times when you thought that maybe you could be more than her companion.

The Doe That Chases the Hound (Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader)

Normally in a hunt it was a hound’s duty to chase down deer. You went against the natural order of things. This time it was the doe who sought after the hound.

Crimson Lady (Ramsay Bolton x Bolton!Reader, Sansa Stark x Bolton!Reader) 🖤

Sansa should have known better. Of course she'd be every part of a Bolton as her brother Ramsay was.

Loveless (Rhaegar Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader) 🖤💌

There was nothing Rhaegar could do about your sudden engagement. Try as he might, he couldn’t persuade Aerys to marry you to him. It didn’t matter that he proclaim his undying love for you. Didn’t matter how you got on your knees in front of the iron throne and begged him to reconsider. Instead of mercy, the Mad King simply laughed at you.

Just For You (Ramsay Bolton x Reader) 🍑💌

The cruel Ramsay Bolton has an unknown side to him. Not just for anyone though. Only for the maid whom he loves to taunt.

From the Ashes (Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader)📚

A year has passed since (y/n) and her brother Jaime fled from King's Landing to the vast and foreign world of Essos.

Mine First, Mine Last, Mine Even in the Grave (Ramsay Bolton x Reader) 🍑

Even at such a young age, Ramsay was proving a difficult and willful child. He was somewhat twisted in nature that sometimes disturbed his mother. However once he laid eyes on the little baby, he immediately grew attached to her.

Birth of Dragons (Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader) 📚

It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart.

The Most Impossible Battle (Robert Baratheon x Targaryen!Reader) 🍑

Robert hated all Targaryens. Wise words from those close to him though make Robert Baratheon give in to the idea of taking (y/n) Targaryen as his bride.

Wrap Around (Oberyn Martell x Martell!Reader) 📚🖤

Oberyn was beside himself at the return of his baby sister (y/n). For a year she had been off in Essos, experiencing the rest of the world outside of the safety of Sunspear. Now she was returning to Dorne. Returning to Oberyn.

By Any Other Name (Margaery Tyrell x Reader)

Another Life (Rhaegar Targaryen x Stark!Reader)

Lyanna watches Jon from atop of the courtyard's parapet, her eyes crinkling with pride as she watches Jon best Theon Greyjoy at the dance of swords. Every victory Jon made resulted in him outgrowing the label of bastard. He was so much more than a bastard of Winterfell. Not even Catelyn saw him as such. Many were so shocked when the news came that Ned had brought back his bastard one day. In fact Cat had shown up at Winterfell by his side as he held the infant in his arms, for she was one of three that knew the truth about Jon Snow.

What We Sow (Theon Greyjoy x Greyjoy!Reader) 🍑🖤💌

This was his home, a place where the salt of the sea and the cries of seagulls were a constant presence and where you were. Waiting so patiently as always. His queen, his sister, his wife. He'd been dreaming of the moment when he'd be reunited with you after so long.

Omission (Theon Greyjoy x Stark!Reader)💌🍑

Robb wasn't being dramatic when he claimed your change toward Theon. From innocent children to teenagers, everything happened so fast that you weren't really able to comprehend what was going on with your own head. When Theon first arrived to your family, you were a small child. You and Robb grew attached to him immediately. For so long you saw him as a brother. Then it just stopped the moment you bled.

Hummingbird (Petyr Baelish x Baratheon!Reader) 💌

Surly Creatures (Visenya Targaryen x Reader) 💌

YandereMama!Visenya Series I , II , III , IV , V

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duxbelisarius · 1 month ago

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Back to the Dance Part Five: Dragon Warfare

Thanks once again for reading; if this is your first time seeing this series, check out the Master Post for the previous installments!

Part Five covers the same ground as Part 3 in the previous series, but once again I hope to add more and better information to examining dragons and their role in warfare. Much like with sea power in the Dance, I made the mistake of throwing out a very basic definition of air power and focusing solely on numbers and tactics, when the subject called for a much broader examination. George has referred to dragons as the most devastating weapon in his world, and their power is taken for granted thanks to their role in the Targaryen unification of the Seven Kingdoms; completing my series on the First Dornish War and reading further into the books has brought me to a different conclusion. Rather than focusing purely on the Dance, I will also assess the use of dragons in past wars and the extent to which they actually changed warfare in any meaningful way. While there are theoretical models that could allow us to understand the use of dragons in war, and which will be discussed here, they face a major obstacle in that the affect of the dragons on the setting varies wildly. Those that have already read the original analysis and the Dorne series should have some idea of what I'm talking about, but the only thing consistent about the dragons is their inconsistency!

i. Sound and fury, signifying nothing

Few events in the Dance better encapsulate these inconsistencies than Aegon and Baela's duel over Dragonstone. The first problem to note, one I mentioned throughout the original series, is that of dragon senses: When Luke and Arrax arrive at Storm's End, we're told that "Vhagar sensed his coming first" and woke with a roar as Luke began his descent. This appeared in The Princess and the Queen in 2013 and again in F&B in 2018, the latter also giving us Rhaena's visit to Storm's End in 54 AC, where Vermithor "scented the approach of another dragon" and raised his head from where he slept to roar, moments before Rhaena made her descent. We're given no specifics as to how Vhagar 'sensed' Arrax's presence, but she did so despite the ongoing storm and in both cases the dragons senses availed them despite being asleep. Needless to say the dragons in the Dance never display this level of situational awareness again; in the case of Aegon and Baela, no one on Dragonstone is aware of Sunfyre's presence save Aegon's allies, while Moondancer easily surprise Sunfyre.

The battle itself makes no sense whatsoever, and actively contradicts previous dragon battles. TWOIAF tells us that "Moondancer was much smaller than Sunfyre, but also much swifter and far more nimble," and F&B calls her "very quick" whereas Sunfyre "though much larger, still struggled with a malformed wing and had taken fresh wounds from Grey Ghost." We'll discuss Sunfyre's issues soon enough, but Moondancer's problem is her size in comparison to what she achieves in battle. F&B tells us "she was no larger than a warhorse, and weighed less," while also claiming she could have easily out flown the Cannibal as she was younger and faster. It is suggested throughout F&B that smaller dragons may have advantages over larger ones: regarding Luke's death over Shipbreaker Bay, Gyldan claims that "had the sky been calm, Prince Lucerys might have been able to outfly his pursuer, for Arrax was younger and swifter," while Meleys is called "as swift a dragon as Westeros had ever seen, easily outpacing Caraxes and Vhagar" after Alyssa Targaryen claimed her. We're told that Meleys "might have had some chance" against Vhagar alone at Rook's rest, though Vhagar's disadvantage at least makes sense out of all these instances, owing to her great size combined with her age. We know that dragons become more sluggish in old age, as with Vhagar and Balerion who were both over a century old when they died, though Balerion's injuries and confinement to the dragonpit were also a factor.

The problem with this 'smaller=faster' idea is that magic has to play a role in dragon flight, for the simple fact that the large dragons in the series would be unable to fly otherwise. That much is obvious with dragons being explicitly magical creatures, but there's only so far one can push this size and weight 'de-buff' before it becomes self-defeating. More importantly, there are plenty of birds, bats, and other flying organisms in our world that can fly faster and/or are more nimble than their larger peers, but this due differences in physiology and wing morphology between species. We know of only one 'species' of dragon in George's world, and while they may age and grow at different rates we have no evidence of drastic differences in physiology, with Caraxes' 'noodle neck' being a HOTD-only addition. Moondancer might have a maneuverability advantage thanks to Sunfyre's damaged wing, but she's still just a smaller and younger version of what Sunfyre, with all the disadvantages that entails. Her shorter limbs mean she has less wing surface than Sunfyre, so flapping them will displace less air and generate less thrust, while lesser wing surface also limits her soaring and gliding abilities.

She might be able to flap her wings faster, but this raises another problem: energy. George is very clear in his "Here There Be Dragons" blog post that dragons require sustenance in order to live, stressing that "dragons need food. They need water too, but they have no gills. They need to breathe. ... If held underwater too long, they would drown, just like any other land animal." While George has never really been specific about how much food a dragon needs, and even I wouldn't take logistics that far in this world since it would overcomplicate the story, if dragons can become lazy (see Syrax, Meleys) and grow slower in old age (see Vhagar, Balerion), this alongside their need for food, water, and air means they require energy. Moondancer's energy requirements would be less than Sunfyre's owing to her size, but her energy reserves would also be smaller; it thus makes little sense for Moondancer to be running circles around Sunfyre, despite having flown with Baela for less than six months and never farther than the distance between Driftmark and Dragonstone.

Moondancer's capabilities are out of place with her size and dragon biology, while the other dragon battles in F&B suggest smaller size and youth offer no significant advantages in battle. The most significant example is the lone dragon v dragon battle prior to the Dance, Maegor and Aegon the Uncrowned's clash over the God's Eye, which appeared in The Sons of the Dragon the year before F&B was published. Despite Aegon's dragon Quicksilver being far younger than Balerion and one-quarter his size, we're told she "was no match for the older, fiercer dragon," while Rhaena's Dreamfyre "was younger and smaller than Quicksilver, and certainly no true threat to Balerion the Black Dread." Despite Arrax being far younger than Vhagar and one-fifth her size, Gyldan only suggests Luke "might" have out flown Aemond in better weather; the same goes for the younger, smaller Meleys at Rook's Rest, who "might" have stood a chance against Vhagar alone. Even though F&B calls Sunfyre "a splendid beast, though young," while Meleys "remained fearsome when roused" but had "grown lazy;" while Sunfyre was small enough for Meleys to fit her jaws around his neck, it still took Vhagar's intervention to save Aegon and Sunfyre from death, with victory once again going to the larger, older dragon. Caraxes is much younger than Vhagar and half her size during the Dance, but Daemon refuses to face Vhagar without Nettles and Sheepstealer until he's left with no other choice, and the battle that follows ends in the deaths of both parties. Finally there's Second Tumbleton, where despite Vermithor being riderless and faced with the much younger Seasmoke who was a third his size, we're told "Vermithor's age and weight were too much for Seasmoke to contend with" when the two finally came to blows, and only Tessarion's intervention prevents Addam and Seasmoke from being killed immediately.

The dragon battles we're shown indicate that the best a younger, smaller dragon could do was survive through the aid of another dragon (Rook's Rest) or meet their death alongside their foe (Second Tumbleton), with the only 'solo kill' being a suicide attack (God's Eye, 130 AC). By comparison, the far smaller Moondancer outperforms Seasmoke, Caraxes, and Sunfyre at Rook's Rest in her battle with Sunfyre, only losing the fight when Sunfyre blinds her and cannibalizes her on the ground, with Sunfyre dying of his wounds within the year. Moreover, whereas Addam's broken body is recovered at Tumbleton (more on that in a later part), Daemon's is never found, and Aegon suffers horrific injuries at Rook's Rest which permanently disable him and sideline him for almost a year, Baela comes out of her duel with no meaningful injuries to speak of. The only dragon battle we have that indicates a dragon's youth and smaller size give it advantages, is the one battle where these qualities are emphasized twice for one of the dragons involved by F&B and a third time if we count TWOIAF, almost like the author is assuring us it was possible despite all evidence being to the contrary.

Sunfyre's presence in the battle also raises problems: The intent seems to be that Sunfyre's size is a challenge which is offset by his damaged wing and previous wounds, but this cannot be squared with what we're told about his injuries. Aside from his new, unhealed wounds from Grey Ghost and his older, healed wounds inflicted by Lord Mooton's men at Rook's Rest, F&B says his broken wing healed at an an ugly angle and was weak, with Sunfyre being unable to soar nor remain in the air long and struggling to fly even short distances. If this is the case, then we not only have to ask how Baela and Moondancer performed so well, but how Sunfyre was able to fly at all. We know Sunfyre remained at Rook's Rest due to his injuries in the battle but moved to Crackclaw Point some time after, before eventually making his way to Dragonstone. Using ADWD's map of the south as a reference, the shortest distance between Crackclaw and Dragonstone looks to be at least half the length of the Gullet, while Atlas of Ice and Fire's map scale suggests the distance is 40-50 miles or about half that of the Gullet again. Using the figures for dragon speed employed in the original analysis, Sunfyre's speed is probably closer to 35 mph than 50 (56 km/h vs 80.5), and it would probably take an hour for Sunfyre to fly from Crackclaw to Dragonstone by the shortest route. Considering the Brunes and Crabbs living further north had stories about him, and taking into account his injured wing, it almost certainly would have been longer than that.

While this begs the question of how Sunfyre made the crossing without anyone being aware of it, the more important question is how he made it to Dragonstone at all if he could not soar, let alone how he made his way up Crackclaw Point from Rook's Rest. Soaring is a method used by soaring birds and soaring aircraft (i.e. gliders) to fly without powered thrust (i.e. flapping wings or an engine), using wind currents and thermals to remain aloft. Since wing flapping requires using one's muscles and thus consumes energy and invites fatigue, soaring is crucial for long distance travel and remaining airborne for extended periods. If Sunfyre can only fly by flapping his wings, which would be awkward and painful due to one being damaged and weak, this drastically reduces his range and time he can spend in the air as well as his ability to find food to maintain his energy and heal. The battle over Dragonstone thus makes no sense from either dragon's perspective: If it was consistent with the track record of smaller, younger dragons in battle, then Moondancer and Baela should have stood no chance against Sunfyre, but were it consistent with how Sunfyre's injuries are described, he would not have been on Dragonstone at all.

In order to have a scene pitting Baela against Aegon, most of the prior set-up regarding dragons is completely scrapped, though the duel manages to get worse. It turns out that Baela takes after her old man in more ways than one, as both pass-up golden opportunities to kill their foe and end the fight quickly. As I mentioned in Part 3 of the original analysis, F&B's account of the Battle above the God's Eye has Daemon and Caraxes divebomb Aemond and Vhagar from above, with Caraxes sinking his teeth into Vhagar's neck while Daemon leaps from his back to plunge Darksister into Aemond's sapphire eye. Since this attack takes Aemond completely by surprise, we have to ask what was stopping Daemon from diving at a different angle and tearing Aemond in two, or melting him in his saddle, in which case he could have used the sun's glare to blind Aemond or strike from his blind side. This would have removed the threat of Aemond, and if Vhagar became violent like Vermithor did sans rider, then surely Caraxes' youth and smaller size would have allowed Daemon to prevail? They could even try blinding her, like Sunfyre did to Moondancer! There was no reason for Daemon and Caraxes to die save for the plot demanding it, and a similar situation plays out between Aegon and Baela, as Moondancer "raked the larger dragon from above, opening a long smoking wound down his back and tearing at his injured wing." Since George seems to have forgotten this fact, it's worth noting that dragonriders ride on the backs of their dragons, meaning Baela and Moondancer had ample opportunity to cut down Aegon or blast him with fire from above but did not. With Aegon dead, Baela and Moondancer are free to finish off the stricken and riderless Sunfyre, while Aegon's death means the war is already won.

Setting two characters up to win easily and having them both fumble the bag for seemingly no reason is bad enough, but it's the way Aegon and Baela's duel ends that really takes the cake. I noted in Part 12 of the original analysis that it makes no sense for Aegon to land on his feet after falling 20 feet without being killed or paralyzed, but Baela's fate is even more egregious. Sunfyre would had to have struck Moondancer's face with his flames in order to blind her, after she wounded his back and turned to attack again, making it certain that she was attacked head-on. This is confirmed by the fact that after they collide mid-air, Moondancer sinks her teeth into Sunfyre's neck while Sunfyre claws at her underbelly. Keeping in mind again that dragonriders ride on the backs of their dragons, Sunfyre's "furnace blast of golden flame so bright it lit the yard below like a second sun" would not have terminated at Moondancer's face, but continued some ways along her neck. If Moondancer was no larger than a warhorse, there's no way Baela could have avoided taking this blast directly to her upper body; even if she lay face down against Moondancer's neck, the back of her head, neck, and upper body would still be exposed to dragon fire.

Lest we forget, a single "lance of swirling dark flame" from a much younger and far smaller Drogon was all it took to melt Kraznys mo Nakloz's eyes and set his beard ablaze in Dany III of ASOS. Baela's injuries from Sunfyre's breathe alone should be horrifically disfiguring if not outright fatal, but things still get worse somehow: We're told that Moondancer remained trapped beneath Sunfyre all the way down to the ground, and Baela stays with her before finding the strength to undo her chains and escape Moondancer's death throws. Once again, dragonriders ride on their dragons backs: if Baela stayed there all the way to the ground, she could not survive hitting the ground with the weight of Moondancer and Sunfyre on top of her. The idea that Marston Waters rushes Baela to the maester and saves her life is completely ridiculous, as is the fact we have no indication of any long term injuries or negative consequences that Baela experiences as a result of the battle. Considering Aegon II's horrific injuries at Rook's Rest, the brutal deaths of Aegon the Uncrowned, Lucerys, and Addam, and the fact that Daeron and Daemon's bodies were never found, Baela being repeatedly exposed to extreme danger and only losing her dragon as a result is just embarrassing.

ii. There is no there there

The affect of dragons on the wars of the Freehold and House Targaryen is similarly inconsistent, being subordinated to narrative priorities more than anything else. The earliest wars we know of that involve dragons are the Ghiscari Wars, between the Valyrian Freehold and Old Ghis during the former's rise to prominence. Aside from the few references we get in ASOS and ADWD, the most detailed information we have of these five wars comes from TWOIAF. Despite involving dragons, our impression of these wars is broadly consistent with Bronze Age/Iron Age/Classical warfare; the influences of the Punic Wars are also obvious, with Old Ghis in Carthage's role as the older, wealthier empire while Valyria's agrarian economy and elective government are clearly inspired by the Roman Republic, although the Ghiscari "Lock Step Legions" are clearly based off Rome's armies. Our most detailed information indicates the Sarnori were involved in the Second through Fourth wars, while the fighting extended to the Basilisk Isles and Sothoryos during the Third and Fourth wars, and the Fifth war ended with the conquest of Old Ghis and it's populations enslavement. Dragons are mentioned in the context of the Third and Fifth wars, but we have to assume from Valyria's own legends and histories that the dragons were present at the founding of the Freehold and thus took part in the first two wars. Excluding the first two wars, we're still left us with three conflicts of unknown length between a dragonless state and one that had them them, with no indications of the Ghiscari being assisted by magic of any kind.

We then have the wars with the Rhoynar, of which eight are named though not all would have involved the dragons of the 'forty families,' as some of these were between the Rhoynar and Valyria's colonies. The Rhoynar being known practitioners of water magic also helps, as the Second Spice War which ended a decade prior to Nymeria's arrival in Dorne sees largescale use of water magic to counteract dragon fire, and we're even told that Rhoynar archers brought down two dragons and wounded a third. This all helps explain why the Rhoynar could go toe-to-toe against the Valyrians for a time, but it raises some serious questions: As I noted in Part 1 of the Dorne series, we have little actual evidence suggesting that water mages played a role in the Martell conquest, so how can this absence be explained? More importantly, how did the magic or technology that allowed those archers to fell dragons not transfer to Westeros with Nymeria's refugees? With the Second Spice War in particular being a proper fantasy war with magic used by both sides, we again must ask how Old Ghis managed to contend with the Freehold?

We have greater problems when we come to Westeros and the use of dragons in the Conquest, the Dance, the rebellions against Maegor, and the early Dornish Wars. Between the Freehold's very existence, Nymeria's exodus, the arrival of the Velaryons, Celtigars, and Targaryens, the Conquerors prior visits to the mainland, and Aegon's destruction of the Volantene fleet during Pentos and Tyrosh's war with Volantis (a war in which Argillac Durrandon also fought), the Seven Kingdoms should be well aware of the existence of dragons and their fearsome potential. Despite this, the majority of Westeros opposes the conquerors with conventional military forces as if there were no dragons at all, the only exceptions being Dorne, the Hightowers, and the supporters of Edmyn Tully. Of course the Targaryens defeat them all handily, but not before 'playing down' to their opponents: Rhaenys and Meraxes burn the lords Errol, Fell, and Buckler out of the Kingswood near the Wendwater, but only after ambushing Orys Baratheon's forces crossing the river and cutting down almost a thousand men, while her intervention in the Last Storm comes only after Orys' army is on the brink of defeat; Visenya burns the Arryn fleet and flies to the Eyrie to force it's surrender, but only after Daemon Velaryon is killed and two-thirds of his fleet is sunk or captured.

Aegon aids Orys directly in their one-sided victory over the Mootons and Darklyns, and wins another victory on the south shore of the God's Eye; he goes on to annihilate House Hoare at Harrenhal, but not before Harren's sons successfully attack his army from behind at the 'Wailing Willows' after crossing the lake with muffled oars, while Harren's sons and their longships are only burned as they return across the lake. That Aegon attacks them out of the morning sky indicates they attacked his army at night, but this still requires Aegon, Balerion, and the entire army to be completely unaware of the longships approaching them, despite the possibility of fire, moon, and starlight assisting their vision. When the Targaryens defeat the Lannister and Gardener host at the Field of Fire, their dragons take to the sky only after the Targaryen center is "shattered" by Mern's charge, although Targaryen losses are somehow less than a hundred men and Visenya is wounded in one arm by an arrow. These defeats should have been avoidable thanks to the dragons, but even the victories are 'close run' affairs when they should not have been. The Conquerors seemingly allow the battles to be fought, rather than crushing their foes immediately and sparing the lives of their own troops.

I won't go into to great detail on the First Dornish War since that already has an entire series, but the trend identified above is very much at play in that war. Although Dornish victory is credited to their 'guerrilla' strategy and avoiding the dragons, in reality the Dornish defeat their foes with open attacks that are never at risk of interference from the dragons, as these are always absent and never intervene despite no reason for this being the case (see Part 5 for the most blatant example of this in 10 AC). The war with the first Vulture King likewise takes place without any concerns of Maegor or Visenya intervening, but when we come to Jaehaerys' reign, the Dornish are suddenly obliging enough to attack openly and allow themselves to be defeated. Morion Martell even convinces his own lords and a host of pirates to provide troops and ships for an invasion of the Stormlands, despite the Targaryens having five large dragons at their disposal. The rebellions against Maegor are more of the same: while we might dismiss the Faith Militant's army at the Great Fork as religious zealots, this cannot be done for Aegon the Uncrowned's army at the God's Eye, which followed a young, unpopular prince and first time dragonrider despite the potential of facing Maegor and Balerion.

This impression of the dragons and their affect is reinforced by the Dance; there are many examples to draw from, but the best for me comes from comparing Tessarion and Tyraxes. When Jace arrives at the Eyrie and obtains the support of Jeyne Arryn, she requests dragonriders as part of the conditions for her support, and Joffrey and Tyraxes are sent there prior to the 'Red Sowing.' They can't have spent more than a few months in the Vale, given that Rhaenyra took King's Landing in mid-February or early March of 130 AC and sent for Joffrey soon after, while it was late 129 AC when Jace sent him there. Even then, we're told the forces of the Vale were marshalling not long after Jace returned to Dragonstone, so even the mere promise of Tyraxes seems to have been more than sufficient. Tyraxes was younger than Arrax, who was one-fifth the size of Vhagar in 129 AC, and was small enough that the Shepherd's mob could hack him to death when they stormed the Dragonpit (albeit the larger Syrax is also hacked to death).

By comparison, Tessarion was a third the size of Vermithor in 130 AC, with Vermithor being the largest dragon alive after Vhagar. Her manner of death is also significant, as Bill Burley shoots her three times in one eye at 200 yards (c.183 meters) following Second Tumbleton. While this was outside the range of her fire, we know that even Silverwing was attacked with polearms during the battle, and killing Tessarion with such weapons would not have required attacking her head-on. Considering that when Lord Mooton's men retook Rook's Rest, they inflicted grievous wounds to Sunfyre with their polearms which only enraged him, this suggests Tessarion was similar to Sunfyre in size and certainly larger than Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. We know she didn't hatch from a 'cradle egg' because Daeron bonded with her when he was six, and they were presumably flying by the time he went to Oldtown at age twelve. Despite this, her size and presence have no affect on the beginning of the Dance in the Reach; Ormund Hightower even appears to forget that she's there, since he writes to King's Landing soon after Rook's Rest that "we have need of your dragons" in order to subdue the Blacks. Daeron's eleventh hour appearance at the Battle of the Honeywine is on par with how dragons were employed by the Conquerors, showing up only when their armies were on the brink of defeat or had already suffered defeat. The Blacks in the Reach begin surrendering soon after due to Tessarion's threat, only for this to reverse when Ormund suddenly must besiege Longtable and so cannot aid Maelor and Ser Rickard Thorne.

iii. Dragons and Air Power

The paradoxical affect of the dragons creates obvious problems for viewing them with any kind of theoretical lens: On the one hand, they are shown to be tremendously lethal and capable of affecting the decisions of military leaders (to quote Elmo Tully, "A dragon in one's courtyard does wonders to resolve one's doubts"); on the other hand, we're also shown this does not deter armies from massing and fighting them openly, suggesting they have no affect on decision-making at all. The dragons are not governed by 'Watsonian' factors, i.e. what can they do in their world, but by 'Doylistic' ones, i.e. what does the writer need them to do. When it comes to classifying their role in warfare, their ability to fly, strike at targets on land and at sea, and attack and observe from above means they have much in common with aircraft and air power. That being said, their individual lethality, invulnerability at great size, and generally small numbers lend themselves to comparison with battleships and sea power, and both approaches have value.

Whereas the first powered flight in our history took place in 1903, and large scale militarization of aircraft took another decade with the First World War, dragons have been used in war for millennia following the rise of Valyria after the Long Night. Despite this, the First Dornish War is the only example we have of an enemy combatant avoiding open combat with the dragons, though once again this owes more to how the war is written than to how the Dornish actually fight. This is significant since, as Phil Haun notes in Tactical Air Power and the Vietnam War:

Observing the battlefield from above reduces the vertical surface obstructions, which restrict the horizontal line of sight for ground forces. From above, air forces can locate and destroy massed armies in the open and on the move. (Haun, Tactical Air Power, 30)

Being observed is a serious disadvantage already, since it makes surprise impossible depending on how well the enemy can track your movements; combined with the ability to deliver attacks at range with their fire breathe, this gives dragons a major asymmetry to exploit against conventional force.

While it's true that military aircraft have a greater array of weapons with greater ranges than dragon fire, currently and historically, are available in greater numbers, and possess communications systems which give them flexibility in striking targets as small or large units (we'll come back to this point later), dragons also possess serious advantages. For starters, Dragons while dragons must eat, drink, and heal injuries, the means to do so are more readily available than an aircraft, which can run out of fuel, suffer mechanical issues, and exhaust their ammunition. Dragons are living creatures aided by magic, meaning they can derive their energy from sources in nature and heal injuries themselves, while we haven't encountered any cases of dragons 'running out' of fire. The greatest advantage by far is the absence of any real countermeasures for dragons, outside using magic or other dragons against them, when compared to military aircraft. Phil Haun notes that the threat of concerted air attacks forces armies to disperse their units and use concealment (camouflage, night movements, bad weather) to avoid detection, but modern and contemporary armies are not totally defenseless: In almost eight years during the Vietnam War, combat and non-combat losses cost the United States over 9000 fixed and rotary-wing aircraft, with anti-aircraft artillery likely accounting for the bulk of combat losses as opposed to surface-to-air missiles and enemy aircraft (Haun, Tactical Air Power, 32; 7).

By comparison, while we know that small dragons are vulnerable to arrows, bolts, and melee weapons, and dragons of Vermax's size and likely Tessarion and Sunfyre's are vulnerable to bolt-throwing artillery like scorpions and ballistae, all the evidence we have from the books suggests that dragons larger than this are, for all intents and purposes, invulnerable. Although F&B twice invokes the scorpion that killed Meraxes at Hellholt, telling us that Morion Martell's fleet was armed, "with massive scorpions of the sort that felled Meraxes," while at Rook's Rest "scorpions were cranked upward to loose iron bolts of the sort that had once felled Meraxes in Dorne," in both instances it appears forgotten that Meraxes was killed by a bolt through the eye. The fact Meleys is said to be struck with a score of bolts at Rook's Rest which only angered her is a clear indication that the size of the projectile or the power of it's launcher will do nothing unless a lucky shot can hit the eye and penetrate the skull. The only other method of neutralizing a large dragon seems to be by killing it's rider, a far smaller and constantly moving target, though penetrating the skull via the soft palate with a hit in the mouth could also potentially work.

It's also important to note that Meleys was larger than Sunfyre but almost certainly smaller than Vhagar in 129 AC, having been smaller than Caraxes and Vhagar in 75 AC. This means that a dragon doesn't need to be massive like Balerion, Vhagar, or Vermithor to be effectively invulnerable to projectiles, while even wounding or killing smaller dragons would be a serious issue. For starters, the low velocity of tension and torsion-fired projectiles compared to bullets and shells makes them very poor 'anti-aircraft artillery' in a setting like this, while an unstable platform like a ship would also make them very difficult to use to defend fleets against dragon attacks. These factors make it very unlikely that wars and rebellions against the Freehold and Targaryens would be the large, grand affairs that George portrays in F&B and TWOIAF. If anything they'd be closer to the First Dornish War than the Dance, especially since I noted in Part 5 of the Dorne series that battle-avoidance strategies were common in Medieval warfare. Since dragons are a threat to armies in the open, but only the largest of them can defeat fortifications, opponents would likely rely on castles and other fortifications to stymie advances, using raids and small engagements to attrite their foe while resorting to large engagements only when dragons were known to be elsewhere. This wouldn't guarantee success against the dragons, but it would show that their capabilities and reputation have an actual affect on warfare in the setting.

iv. Dragons, Sea Power, and Corbett

While the association of dragons with air power seems obvious, their limited numbers combined with their destructiveness naturally draws comparisons with battleships and sea power, which brings us back to the theories of Alfred Thayer Mahan (See Part Four). This will be something of a response to "Battleship Doctrine and the Dance of the Dragons" by Thomas Brodey, from his blog Tragedy and Farce; I recommend checking out Tom's blog for great ASOIAF content, although I take issue with some of what he says in this post. While his choice of framework isn't necessarily wrong, his choice of Mahan's theories on the pursuit of battle and his assessment of the Blacks use of their dragons has flaws that need to be addressed.

We've already covered the basics of Mahanian sea power and naval strategy, while Brodey provides a basic rundown of Mahan's view of battle:

Mahan’s argument, therefore, was simple. Any fleet who seriously intended to win a naval war had to collect the biggest, baddest warships in one place, and use them to crush the main enemy fleet. The first and foremost job of the battleships was to eliminate the enemy battleships.

This is broadly correct, but it's also clear that Mahan's ideas of concentration of force in pursuit of battle evolved during his literary career; per Kevin McCranie's Mahan, Corbett, and the Foundations of Naval Strategic Thought, Mahan wrote in 1911 that for the "close concentration of direct contact," a fleet should not be "packed like herrings, but so disposed that all parts were in mutual supporting distance, ready to move when needed," likening it to a fan "that opens and shuts" (McCranie, Mahan, Corbett, 143). This sets dragons apart from the ship-of-the-line or battleships as much as it sets them apart from combat aircraft, because of their small numbers and the limited communications of this setting. Aircraft could avail themselves of radios and radar to coordinate their efforts and locate targets whilst in the air, while capital ships had auxiliary vessels and eventually wireless telegraphy, radios, and radar to assist them in supporting each other over great distances. Unless a dragonrider has a fellow rider to deliver them messages while airborne, they must return to the ground to receive information via raven or messenger; despite being able to cover great distances in a relatively short time, unless already concentrated together as a unit the dragons cannot utilize 'elastic concentration' as can be done with air and sea power.

It's here that we must introduce Mahan's British contemporary, Sir Julian Stafford Corbett (1854-1922), whose views on battle and concentration of force are not hugely different from Mahan's, but are arguably better suited for understanding dragon warfare. McCranie, who does an excellent job of exploring the writings and theories of the two men (see this book review from War on the Rocks for a cliff notes rundown), finds that Mahan and Corbett's views of naval warfare and sea power were largely complementary. Whereas Mahan was a naval officer who sought to persuade the US to cultivate it's own sea power as an emerging player on the world stage, Corbett was a lawyer and novelist whose interest in the Elizabethan era and friendship with esteemed naval historian John Knox Laughton led him to become an intellectual and historian of British and general naval history. Corbett's audience was thus the statesmen and naval officers of the hegemonic naval power, and he became highly regarded in Royal Navy and British government circles; he compiled the Royal Navy's three volume history of the First World War prior to his death, while his 1911 publication Some Principles of Maritime Strategy is as important as Mahan's Influence series for understanding modern naval thought.

Corbett's approach to battle and it's place in naval strategy was among the few cases of divergence between him and Mahan. While Corbett's understanding of 'elastic concentration' was similar to that of Mahan, he understood that it could work both ways: just as it enabled a dispersed fleet to concentrate for a battle, it also enabled a concentrated fleet to avoid a battle or a dispersed one to concentrate and retreat from an area in good order. Corbett stressed concentration of effort as opposed to force, since concentrating force "tends to simplify problems for [the] enemy," whereas "concentration of effort without actual concentration of force tends to confuse him [because it] does not reveal your intentions" (McCranie, Mahan, Corbett, 146). This is where I think Brodey's reliance on Mahan is seriously flawed, as his later arguments about dragon warfare are derived from Mahan's conclusions about the British and French fleets in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars:

To prove his point, Mahan drew on the wars between Britain and France in the 18th century. Time and time again, he said, the French split up their capital ships, “subordinating the action of the fleet to so-called particular operations” achieving minor objectives in multiple locations instead of winning one great decisive battle. The British, however, would concentrate their forces and crush the French main fleet, completely reversing any small advantage the French had gained from its “particular operations.”

'Particular operations' was the title Mahan gave to instances where a fleet pursued the ulterior object (the 'mission at hand' or the object of the campaign) over the primary object, which was to oppose the enemy's fleet (Ibid., 147). While Corbett used different terminology, he also saw opposing the enemy fleet as the primary object but differed from Mahan's linear approach, which placed attaining the primary object before the ulterior object.

In Corbett's view, the fact that people live on the land meant that most wars would be fought over objectives there; chasing the primary object to the exclusion of the ulterior was unlikely to end a war any sooner, especially if pursuing the enemy fleet meant neglecting important ulterior objects. Solely pursuing the primary object also risked leaving one's own commerce and lines of communication at risk, while the enemy's fleet could still avoid battle or even concentrate against you (Ibid., 147-149). Instead of a linear approach, Corbett's concentration of effort approach called for the fleet to support actions against an ulterior object, the loss of which would force the enemy to risk battle or else forfeit the object and imperil their conduct of the war. Whether or not one agrees with Mahan's conclusions about the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, I argue that Corbett's approach makes more sense when it comes to the Dance.

One of the main issues with Brodey's assessment of dragons in the Dance, especially regarding the Blacks, is that he makes a numbers error at the outset. His graph of dragon numbers during the Dance gives an accurate total for the outset of 6 Black dragons vs 4 Green dragons, but he then approves of Bartimos Celtigar's suggestion to attack immediately since "our nine must surely overwhelm his four." This 9 to 4 figure includes the riderless Seasmoke, Vermithor, and Silverwing, while the actual numbers of 6 to 4 are not enough to justify sending every dragon the Blacks have against King's Landing, especially since two of those four Green dragons are Vhagar and Dreamfyre. The actual ratio is more like 5 to 3, since Daeron is at Oldtown and Rhaenyra is in no fit state to give battle mentally, physically, or emotionally after the loss of her child, her father's death, and the Greens usurpation. Given Joffrey and Tyraxes' age and inexperience, as Rhaenyra refuses to send him as a messenger with his brothers while Jace sends him to the Vale in part to keep him away from the fighting, one could say it's closer to 4 to 3. This means that Celtigar's plan is nowhere near the guaranteed success it appears to be, and while the reasons given in F&B aren't quite as detailed as those just listed, Rhaenyra and Daemon's decision to forego an immediate attack on the capital is entirely justified.

With that option off the table, it's only natural that the Blacks would use their dragons to pursue ulterior objects, sending out Daemon, Rhaenys, Jace, and Luke while Rhaenyra and Joffrey remained on Dragonstone. Of these missions, the only one that represents a misuse of the dragons is Rhaenys, with the Gullet blockade being unworkable. Otherwise Daemon secures a foothold in the Riverlands at Harrenhal and Jace brokers alliances with the Vale and the North; the only setback is Luke's death which causes a setback for Rhaenyra's condition and leaves the Blacks with only 4 dragons, of which only 3 are at Dragonstone. Blood and Cheese in turn removes Helaena from the Greens line-up, leaving them with just 3 dragons total and only 2 at King's Landing, though one of those dragons is Vhagar. The Rook's Rest campaign makes complete sense from Corbett's perspective, as the Greens use their dragons to pursue an ulterior object by bringing the Crownlands houses to heel, which creates an opportunity to pursue the primary object when Rhaenys comes to the aid of Lord Staunton. We've already noted that Sunfyre's youth and smaller size count for little in battle despite suggestions to the contrary, but the only other thing that doesn't make sense is when F&B tells us the Black Council was first made aware of Aegon's offensive by Staunton's raven, and that Rhaenys arrives at Rook's Rest nine days after Staunton sends his raven.

Rook's Rest leaves the Blacks and Greens with only 4 and 2 dragons respectively, with Caraxes and Tessarion still being in separate theaters; Joffrey and Tyraxes are sent to the Vale shortly before the Red Sowing which reduces the difference to 3 to 2, but the Sowing eliminates this parity by giving the Blacks 8 dragons against the Greens 2, 6 to 1 excluding Caraxes, Tyraxes, and Tessarion. Brodey criticizes the Blacks decision to attack King's Landing while Vhagar was absent, but this forgets that the original plan was just that: Jace sought to attack King's Landing with all their dragons and the Velaryon fleet, overwhelming Aemond and in the process achieving their primary and ulterior objects at once. Had Jace and Corlys Velaryon not been caught off guard so embarrassingly at the Gullet, they would have been able to annihilate the Triarchy fleet and then proceed against King's Landing. Instead, Jace's death and the loss of almost a third of the Velaryon fleet buys the Greens time to formulate their own strategy, with Aemond and Cole going after Daemon in the Riverlands while Daeron begins restoring their position in the Reach.

It's the Fall of King's Landing and the events that follow where the Blacks use of their dragons really falls off. For starters, since Aemond and Cole were en route to Harrenhal when Daemon left to fly to Dragonstone, there was no reason why Daemon could not have headed back towards the Riverlands with the dragonseeds, leaving Rhaenyra at Dragonstone with the Velaryon fleet. Daemon's 5 dragons would have been more than enough to defeat Aemond and Vhagar and destroy Cole's army, even if they did take casualties in the process. From there they could help the Riverlords annihilate the Westerlands army before joining Rhaenyra to attack King's Landing, or take the capital first and then move against Jason Lannister. Even if they stuck with the plan and committed all their dragons against King's Landing while leaving Aemond to take Harrenhal, there's still no reason they could not have then gone after Aemond and Daeron once King's Landing had fallen. As I pointed out in Part 9 of the original series, there's a period of almost a month if not more after the Fall of King's Landing when the Blacks are essentially doing nothing, and Daeron's forces are allowed to march all the way to Tumbleton unhindered while Aemond torches the Riverlands and parts of the Vale to his heart's content (while somehow doing no meaningful damage whatsoever).

When we look at the last major dragon battles of the war, the God's Eye and both Tumbletons, we again see that Corbett's approach is vindicated. The retaking of Harrenhal combined with defeat and death of Criston Cole leaves Aemond no ulterior object to defend or pursue, and he essentially wages a private war while Daemon and Nettles fail to track him down despite Vhagar's age and size. As long as Aemond was free to avoid battle, he could do so indefinitely, leaving Daemon with no other choice but to offer battle to Aemond alone. On the other hand, Daeron's advance on Tumbleton necessitated sending Ulf and Hugh to defend the town, with battle only being avoided by their betrayal. The continued presence of the dragonriders at the town subsequently allowed Addam to engage them at Second Tumbleton, demonstrating the need for an ulterior object to be at stake in order to ensure an engagement between dragonriders. Had the Riverlord army not been sent to Tumbleton in the first place and been able to cooperate with Daemon and Nettles, it's possible they could have tried an advance against the Westerlands to draw Aemond out for battle. The failure to deal with Daeron first rules out this option, although the Manderlys and the Vale should have had forces in King's Landing according to F&B (again, see Part 9 of the original series). While there are theoretical approaches that can help us understand how the dragons are used in war, like so much else in the Dance they are ultimately at the mercy of the writing, and this leaves much to be desired.

v. Conclusions

The 'fix-its' section here will be longer than for previous parts, though obviously we'll be saving the actual combat and employment of the dragons for when we discuss strategy. Although it's too late for this to be implemented, the only real 'fix-its' I can think of to 'nerf' the dragons is to give them back their soft underbelly weakness from legend and myth, and to make them smaller in general or at least have large dragons of Balerion's size be much rarer. The only 'nerfs' I can think of that might be applicable in-universe at this point would be to emphasize weather and in particular the weather gage in dragon combat. The weather gage refers to a concept from the Age of Sail in which a ship accrues advantage from being upwind of another vessel, since having the wind at it's back allows it to maneuver more easily. In this instance it would refer to the presence of the wind affecting a dragon's abilities in combat, whether the wind is against it and hampering it's flight or affecting the strength and direction of it's flames.

We have some indications that this might be the case in F&B: When the wind and rain in blowing into the faces of the Targaryen forces at 'the Last Storm,' Rhaenys and Meraxes intervene on the ground and not in the sky; the Conquerors gave battle upwind of the Gardener-Lannister host at the Field of Fire, ensuring their dragons flames would blow into the enemy ranks; when Maegor fights the Faith Militant at the Great Fork, the rain is said to have dampened Balerion's flames even though this was not enough to spare Maegor's enemies; as mentioned already, the storm over Shipbreaker Bay allegedly prevented Luke and Arrax from outflying Vhagar, though this weather apparently had no affect on the older, slower dragon; finally, we know from Alysanne and Jace's visits to the north that dragons dislike the cold, with Silverwing hissing and snapping at the wind despite it being summer with the Wall even weeping, while Vermax was 'ill-tempered' owing to the snow, ice, and cold.

Adverse weather conditions could dissuade dragons from flying or reduce their range, as well as reduce the effectiveness of their dragon fire, while low visibility could hamper their ability to locate and engage enemy units. There is a problem with this last point however: while we might assume that poor weather and low-light conditions would reduce the dragonrider's ability to perceive and locate objects, there is reason to doubt this. We're told explicitly that Jaehaerys hunted the second Vulture King from above in 61 AC and that he guided Rogar Baratheon and Simon Dondarrion's men, "moving them about as once he had moved toy armies in the chambers of the Painted Table." Even if the king's exploits were being exaggerated, we know from the Dance that Daeron was able to scout ahead of Ormund's host and warn him of the Black's movements, while TWOIAF tells us that Braavos was chosen by it's founders because "the frequent fogs would help to hide the refugees from the eyes of dragonriders passing overhead." We unfortunately have limited knowledge as yet of how the dragon bond functions in practice, but evidence does exist indicating that the limits of the rider's own senses may be mitigated in some way.

In concluding our discussion of dragons and dragon warfare, it's important we remember that dragons were not originally part of the initial ASOIAF story, a fact which George brings up in his dragons blog post, and in his 2022 interview with Kevin Smith among other places. When his friend and fellow author Phyllis Eisenstein read the first chapters, George was toying with the Targaryens being pyromancers whose psionic powers allowed them to control fire, but the decision to go with dragons is one that I and probably most readers would agree with. We can see with hindsight that adding unquestionably high fantasy creatures to a setting that is more a low fantasy or at least 'low-magic' with elements of historical fiction, has the potential to create problems. Even so, AGOT starts us out in a world where the existence of magic is questioned by many, which allows George to introduce it via a slow burn following the hatching of Dany's eggs in the final chapter and escalating from there.

The historical presence of dragons was acknowledged, but this worldbuilding did not greatly impinge on the story, especially since George's 'gardener' style meant much of it was done from the ground up. The series was originally intended as a trilogy, so it makes sense that the kernels of historical information scattered throughout the books were not necessarily envisioned systematically. This would change when TWOIAF was greenlit one month shy of a year after AFFC was published; because it was written as an in-world history/chronicle and George wanted to flesh out the broader world for his readers, it was unavoidable that George would have to reckon with the historical 'stakes' he'd already put down in his story while increasing the scale of his worldbuilding dramatically. Unfortunately, the light shone on the history of Planetos by TWOIAF and it's successors makes the dragons stick out like a sore thumb, while the 'low magic' setting and established historical facts like Dorne's successful 'guerrilla' struggle against the Conquerors meant that those fighting the dragons were deprived of plausible methods of resistance. I don't envy George at all when it comes to having to write Dany's dragons into the events of the final books, as he certainly can't avail himself of the strategies employed in F&B.

That wraps our third part discussing warfare in the Dance; we've covered warfare on the ground, at sea, and now from dragon back, which means we can finally talk about strategy and the events of the Dance itself. We just have one more stop to make, involving the most enigmatic and mysterious figure of the Dance and the role he may or may not have played in it's events. Stay tuned for Part Six: "Larys Strong, the Man who sold the World?'

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #asoiaf critical #grrm #grrm critical #fire and blood #fire and blood critical #aegon ii targaryen #baela targaryen

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