#Vaelon

[twinflamedfool]

anything to you

rating: explicit pairing: baelon targaryen/viserra targaryen contains: dubcon, sexual coercion summary: for years, the targaryen dynasty had been known for their affinity to sons. what those outside the family did not realize was that they had plenty of daughters—they just grew up to become the wives of targaryen sons. viserra had no appropriately aged brother or uncle to lay a claim to, but there was one man that fit her tastes. a widow, her second eldest brother who she’d been close to when she was a child. there was already fondness for her in his heart—one she’d be exploiting for her own purposes, but if that didn’t work—well, viserra wasn’t unwilling to make a scene. it was what she was known for after all. word count: 4.1k you can also read here!

Sometimes Viserra wondered what would happen if it ever came out just who the girls who married Targaryen men were. That was to say, she wondered what would happen if the general public found out that the reason the women looked so alike to their husbands was because they were related. Oh, the press would have an absolute field day; it’d be the end of the Targaryen reign, really.

Incest was looked down upon these days—for centuries, actually—but while the old families who had partaken in it had stopped practicing it altogether, the Targaryens continued, only this time in secrecy. 

When you had money, people could be paid off to look the other way, and look away they did.

The Targaryens were well known to produce sons, no matter which generation. There was the occasional daughter, the one that came to mind was her niece, little Rhaenys, but on the whole, there were mostly only sons. The reason for that was because the daughters that were born were given a new maiden name. Sometimes Velaryon, sometimes Blackfyre, sometimes Celtigar, sometimes Seastar. as was the case with herself; the point is that they were mostly never Targaryen.

Documents were altered to include mystery, made-up parents for sweet, little baby girls, girls meant for their brothers or uncles or cousins, and no one knew because her family was wealthy and had plenty of connections to keep it under wraps.

Still, Viserra knew she was pushing the bounds by attempting what she wished to. She had no appropriately aged brother or uncle to lay a claim to, but there was one man that fit her tastes. A widow, her second eldest brother who she’d been close to when she was a child. There was already fondness for her in his heart—one she’d be exploiting for her own purposes, but if that didn’t work—well, Viserra wasn’t unwilling to make a scene. It was what she was known for after all.

-

“Oh, Viserra, how I have missed you!" Her brother proclaimed, opening his arms for her to leap right into, which she did. He took her into his embrace, and then spun her around. Her heart fluttered in her chest, quick and loud to her own senses. She breathed in his scent of sandalwood and smoke and turned boneless in his grip. It had been too long since she had last seen him.

“And, I, you, Baleon,” Viserra replied, just as happily as he had. She was going to ruin his joy soon, so she would bask in his warmth while it lasted.

For a moment, she reconsidered if this was truly worth it. She’d lose his love, his easy regard for her, but she’d be gaining security in all the manners that mattered most. It helped that he was easy on the eyes, the very image of all she’d ever wanted in a husband but did not ever expect to possess. She loved Baelon, but not enough to condemn herself to a marriage to a dim-witted oaf of the likes of Theomore Manderly.

If Baelon had any love for her, he would have spoken up sooner and saved her before this was ever a problem, but he had become a coward after Alyssa’s death. So much for his epithet as Baelon the Brave. It was up to Viserra to keep herself safe, and this was the route she had chosen. There was no going back.

-

Getting Baelon drunk was a task she hadn’t expected to be so arduous. She had forgotten to account for his much larger mass, but this small bump in her plans would not dissuade her. He would just be a little more sober when she laid out her ultimatum; it might even help her case.

It was easy to move from light-hearted talks to heavier ones. She may not be the skilled silver-tongue Saera was, but she knew how to weave a conversation to suit her needs.

She rested her head on his shoulder, watching the sunset from the little villa she’d been vacationing at. His hand was on her own while the other one held his whiskey glass loosely. It was such a pretty sigh; it was why she had chosen this location. Well, that and the clear opening someone could sneak into if they wished to catch a glimpse of the on-goings of a Seastar. Who knows, they might even catch more than expected.

“Baelon, I confess I was not without reason to invite you here.”

“Loneliness is not reason enough?”

“Not to take you away from your sons.”

“I love them, but they’re terrors, so this is, at the very least, a welcome reprieve from them—and from work.”

Viserra laughed, “Well, I am glad to give you a break since you so clearly needed it. I, too, needed a break,” Viserra paused, pulling her hand out from his own and placing it atop her other on her lap, then continued, “I know you must have heard. It is all Alysanne seems to speak about these days.”

“I do wish you would call her Mother.”

She scoffed, “And why should I when she never raised me? Or any of her daughters after Daenerys? Well, besides from her dearest Gael. She has her favorites, and I am not one, as is evident with my upcoming engagement.”

“She has said he is a kind man,” Baelon replied weakly. She whipped her head to look at him indignantly.

“Has she also told you about his age and status as grandfather? While I may not bear the name Targaryen, I was raised to be one. It would be a complete disservice to me if this marriage goes through. I am not ruined, you know. I have half a mind to go to Lord Velaryon and beg him to take me.”

No she wouldn’t, not for him, but for Baelon…. Well, she was here, wasn’t she?

Baelon stared at her with wide eyes and an agape mouth. It took him only a few moments to collect himself.

“You would go against Mother’s wishes? And to Corlys Velaryon of all people?”

Must he always mention Alysanne? It made Viserra sick to her stomach. Why must everything come back to that accursed woman?

“At least he is of an age with you and not our own parents as is the case with that Manderly man. Do you truly think this is something I wish for, Baelon? And worry not, I do not need Lord Velaryon’s love or even his fidelity, just the security of his name and status. He is handsome, a Valyrian.” She let her eyes water and resolutely did not wipe her tears away as they began to wet her lashes and then cheeks. “If I marry him, I will not have to go north. I will not have to leave the only home I have ever known.”

“Viserra….”

She stood up then, walking forward to grip the top rail of the balcony and looked at the beginnings of the sunset. She could see the glint of a camera in the garden’s foliage. Baelon stood up and took her hands in his own; they were so much bigger than her own. She had to crane her neck up to look at him. His eyes were soft as they gazed upon her.

“Have you nothing to say, brother—or should I not call you as such?”

He looked hurt when she said that. “Viserra, how could you believe that? I love you very much—”

She interrupted, “But not enough to persuade Alysanne to stop this? You are her golden boy, you know. She’d do anything you say. She will not argue with you if you say this match shouldn’t happen.”

“I—”

“I suppose I can always join Saera. I recently got in contact with her, and she seems to be doing just fine. She even invited me to work for her once news of my upcoming nuptials reached her.”

His grip tightened around her hands. “You will not go to Volantis, sister. I have been remiss in my brotherly duties, and for that, I am sorry. I will talk to Mother, and we will see what comes out of it.”

We will see what comes out of it, he says, as if he cannot just tell that wretched woman to put an end to this match, and she will bend to his whims, Viserra thought viciously.

If it wasn’t for her, Viserra would not have to ruin the single, most important relationship she had. She would have stayed away from him had this pending marriage not been arranged, hopelessly pining after her elder brother like a lovesick fool. Instead, she must take action—and with the person she loved best. Even if he never loved her like a wife, or even a sister after she revealed her ultimatum, he would still treat her as a person and not a trophy—a thing.

Viserra began to cry in earnest now, and this was all it took for him to gather her in his arms and hug her. She clutched at the back of his Oxford as she sobbed into his chest. He rubbed soothing circles into her skin. Viserra was brought back to a time when she was just a little girl who would cry over Saera’s bullying and he was her big brother who would make everything right again.

Click.

Only after she managed to stop her wet cries did Viserra pull away from him, wrapping her arms around her middle so as to not do something foolish like clutch at him like a child again. He stepped forward and cupped her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears gently.

Click.

And just like that, she had her insurance.

Viserra pulled away from Baelon, ending their moment, and took a few steps away from him. His face contorted in grief, which was soon to turn to rage, she knew.

“You should know Baelon that I am never without motive to do anything.”

“You said as such already, Viserra. Come, let us sit down, and you can share whatever more you wish to. I have missed much of your adult life and want to hear about you.”

Her jaw trembled, and she almost lost all her resolve right then and there, but he was too late for that route.

“I do not wish to marry Lord Velaryon, and you already know my opinion about that fat fuck Manderly, yet Mother will insist I marry someone. If it should be anyone...” Viserra took a deep breath in. “I would want it to be you.” She watched as his features slid from hurt to shock. She continued, “You have love for me, and I, for you—”

Finally, he found his courage and interjected, “A sisterly love.”

“It is still love, no? And do not act as if that has stopped you before. Alyssa was your sister too.”

“Do not bring her into this, and besides, you… you are my baby sister. Viserra, you are so young.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I may be your younger sister, but I am no baby, and if you think me so young, why not speak up about my engagement, hm? If you think I am so young compared to you, what about that man—and Corlys Velaryon, hm? To them, I might as well be a fresh-faced babe, for they are so old. Do not speak to me of youth!”

Controlling her emotions was harder when they were just so real.

“Baelon, I do not ask much of you—”

“You ask to be my wife, the stepmother of my children, and you say it is not much?”

“I do not ask for your love, or even your affection, just security. As for your children, Daemon already likes me. He comes by to visit because I am his fun aunt, and Viserys adores our niece, Aemma, who adores me. He will grow warm towards me simply for that fact. I am not trying to replace Alyssa—”

“You could never.”

Viserra would not let that hurt her.

“Nor do I want to, but Baelon, I do want to be your wife.”

“I do not view you in that light, Viserra, but I can help you with Mother.”

So, it had come to this.

Viserra sighed, “I wish it had not come to this, dear brother, but I will have no other than you. If you truly thought I would go to Corlys or even to Saera, you must be daft. I have much more pride than to sully myself with someone not of my own blood. My name is Seastar, yes, but I am a Targaryen, through and through. I have proof of it, too. Sometimes your son knicks himself playing in my garden and bleeds through scrapes and scratches, and I must bandage them. I have his blood, and I have my own. I wonder what would happen if they were to be tested beside one another. Alyssa was once a Seastar, if you remember; my full-blooded sister. What kind of scandal would happen if it came out that we both shared the same genes?”

“You would dare?”

“Yes. Yes, I would. I owe nothing to this family and would ruin everything our family has built up for centuries.

“Just to—to have me?”

“Baelon, Baelon, Baelon, do you never listen? Yes, to have you as my husband. If this is not enough to convince you, I should warn you the papers tomorrow will have an interesting headline if you do not agree to this.”

“Agree to what? And what headline would that be?”

He sounded agitated and ready to throttle her. Well, that was her fault for provoking him with Daemon first.

“To agree to a marriage between us, of course. I will not have to leave my home and I will be able to take up my proper name, and you will not have to be bothered by marriage proposals anymore. A life of contentment on both sides, if you will.” He didn’t seem to know what to say, so she continued, “As for what headline, well, the one about us, of course. A friend of mine took pictures of us here, and they are scandalizing to say the least. I wonder how much the photos will sell for…”

“You… I do not know who you are anymore, Viserra.”

“And whose fault is that? Everyone left me alone for years. Do you know how hurtful that was? To have family and not be able to associate with them? I was all by myself, and I do not want a life of isolation like that, so I will do what I must, even at the family’s expense—at your expense, Baelon.”

“I am,” he paused and took a deep breath in, “so angry with you.” They were chest to chest now, having somehow gotten closer to each other during their argument. There was a fury bleeding onto his features in a way she had never seen before. He took her chin between his fingers and tilted it upwards, but she kept her gaze at the space between his eyes. “You have manipulated me into something I do not want, threatened our family, used my son for your schemes, and who knows what else!”

“Hurt me, then,” Viserra said, finally looking into his eyes. “Hurt me if it’ll make this easier, Baelon, because I am not sorry.”

He scowled. “Gods, Viserra, is that how you view me?”

She looked away. “I do not know how to view you since I know only of you through my childhood memories and stories told of you through Daemon and Aemma. It has been years since we last saw each other, and phone calls do not count. I don't know you anymore, either.”

Then, an uncomfortable silence fell over them. What more could be said?

Baelon spoke up first, “Just—just go, Viserra. Go to bed, and we shall talk about it in the morning. I—I have to think.”

And so, she went.

A phone call later, to delay the photos, and she did not know what to do with herself. She got ready for bed, going through her usual nighttime routine as she thought about the situation she had created. She hadn’t planned for this outcome. She had expected anything but this. Once she finished her bath, she donned a nightgown and put her hair in its usual bedtime braid. She put on a record, and let her music blast as she cried once more.

Gods, I’m terrible.

Eventually, Viserra had cried herself out, and her record played through. She was thirsty now, and maybe a bit hungry too. She had drunk more than she usually had, and it was getting to her now. She tiptoed quietly to the kitchen because all the lights were off. Baelon had probably already retired for the night. She got a glass to fill with water. Once she had done so, she took a sip, and then nearly spat it out when she saw her brother lounging on the couch, illuminated by the moonlight peering in through the many windows of her villa.

Baelon was staring at her with near-lidded eyes. She glanced beside him, to the coffee table, and found the once nearly full bottle of whisky was now empty. She stood there nervously as she waited for him to say something, if anything. She began to turn away to leave when he spoke up.

“Come here, Viserra,” Baelon demanded, more than he asked.

And so, she went.

He motioned for her to sit next to him, patting the spot. She sat crisscross on it so that she could look at him while he spoke.

“I’ve given thought about what you said. A life of contentment, you said. A marriage of convenience than one of love or desire, but if you are to be my wife, I expect there to be desire. You expressed a desire for me specifically. I will ask candidly. In what manner do you want me, Viserra? As your brother to save you from marriage, or as a lover in marriage?”

His stare was intense, but she did not break it. She would be a liar if she said she had never thought about the second option. While in the throes of puberty, it was him her mind conjured up in her wet dreams. He had always been the ideal for her, but she was older now, not by much, but she knew when to accept her losses and take her wins. Still, that he even asked, maybe she could tell him the truth.

“I would be lying if I said I have not thought about the possibility of you being my husband in truth. I grew up on stories of sibling love matches, before it became apparent I was not to have such a match, and you were the only brother that cared for me. Yet, you already had a sister-wife and though she is dead, I know you still love her very much. It’s not realistic to expect such a thing from you, but yes, I do desire you carnally, Baelon. Yet, I would be just as content if you never touched me or talked to me again because I would not have to give up the life I currently live. Does that answer your question, brother?”

The corner of Baelon’s mouth twitched upwards, as if he was amused and did not want to show it. He answered, “Yes, sister. Now prove it.”

She blinked, immediately feeling her cheeks and ears go hot. He did not just say that.

“Kiss me, Viserra.”

Oh, she had heard right, but well… Viserra had little experience in such things. However, Baelon has asked her to, so she placed a hand on his thigh to steady herself as she leaned towards him and placed a kiss on his lips. He tasted of whisky. She pulled away, furiously blushing, and moved to sit back down properly when he pulled her into his lap, one hand on her hip as it pushed up her nightgown as the other cupped her cheek.

“Properly kiss me, Viserra,” Baelon murmured, his voice deeper than anytime she had ever heard it.

She had only ever shared kisses with her friends, friendly, brief kisses. That she was to have her first, real kiss with Baelon felt like a dream. She leaned in again, wrapping her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. He quickly took control of the kiss, and she tried to focus on it, really, but he kept rubbing circles on her hip, inching closer and closer to her inner thighs. She couldn’t help but moan as Baelon bit her lip, drawing her attention back to him effectively.

“I need more proof of your desire, Viserra. I need to know you’re serious about this.”

What more proof could he even need? She didn’t say so out loud, only nodded. He smiled crookedly and she felt a fluttering in her belly. He was unfairly handsome, able to make her feel like this so easily.

“Sit on the floor before me,” Baelon ordered, and oh.

Viserra knew what he was going to do—what she was about to do if she wanted him.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers to release his erection. It was bigger than she expected, or maybe, she was just small and it was average. She had never seen one in person before, but she had seen plenty of pictures of them. It was… pretty, not as weird-looking as some appeared. Veiny, yes, but overly so, and long, but not too thick. Somehow, it was to go inside of her mouth.

“Come closer, sister.”

She did, and followed his unspoken command. She grabbed his dick with one hand while the other rested on his inner thigh and did not startle as it was hotter than she was expecting. She leaned in and gave it a cursory lick. It didn’t taste like much, maybe a little like sweat. This time she put her mouth around the tip, mindful of her teeth, and looked up to find Baelon was already looking at her. Viserra would be lying if she thought he had never looked better.

Gods, Viserra could feel her panties getting more and more soaked by the minute.

Sucking his tip gently made her brother moan, and suddenly, his hands were on her head, and he was gripping her hair. He used it as leverage to pull her closer, which made his dick go deeper in her throat. She gagged, but that did not stop him.

“Breathe through your nose, Viserra. Open your mouth more, and do not bite”

And so, she did.

He thrust deeper in her mouth and she could feel what little water she had drank before wanting to come up. She swallowed it down and sucked on the length she had in her mouth. Baelon moaned louder. Scooting closer to the edge of the couch, he began to slide out of her mouth, only to ram in further. She choked, panicking as he began to fuck her mouth in earnest. She couldn’t breathe, and it was beginning to hurt.

Breathe through your nose, he said, so she did, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t—she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes teared up involuntarily. She attempted to call out his name, or anything. She even hit his thigh repeatedly to get him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He was making all sorts of noises; his thighs were shaking, and then, he pulled her from off of him. She took in a deep breath, choking or gagging—one of them—but Baelon was not done.

He tilted her face upwards again, his hand stroking his dick, and suddenly, something hot and sticky splattered across her face, chest, and likely her nightgown too. She stared up at him, unsure of what to say to him or what to do.

Luckily for her, he took pity on her and answered her unasked question. “You said hurt me if it'll make this easier, didn’t you?”

Viserra nodded because she had but wasn’t expecting him to actually follow through.

“I’ll marry you Viserra, but don’t ever pull something like this again,” Baelon whispered, getting up and walked away.

He left her there, on the floor and with cum, vomit, and tears on her face, feeling dirty and used.

Despite getting what she wanted, it felt like a hollow victory.

[queenviserra]

[kissofchrysantheum]

Princess Viserra Targaryen

[vivacissimx]

So, now that you've revealed a part of your WIP to us, I'd like to know more about ghost viserra / visenya baelon double dark sister death match,please. :-D

yes okay! @queenviserra asked for this one too so here it is:

ghost!viserra is basically viserra & her horse's death coinciding with a sort of curse upon her parents she screams at the last moment & resulting in opening a blood magic door that, like calling to like, raises the ghost of maegor atop balerion. the idea came from the whole "king's landing smallfolk were scared of maegor's return when aerea came back on balerion" as well as the headcanon that saera actually HAD to have tried to host a seance at some point. what hot girl hasn't?? and it failing but viserra experimenting with the idea later and doing lil bits of sorcery here and there.

anyway, ghostgor & ghosterion do actually knock off quite a few people + dragons, as well as inspiring general dread in the populace. seemingly without hope a suddenly crowned aemon does summon a bunch of warlocks or whoever who agree to send baelon into a netherworld to find and destroy the curse (wonder who that is!). once he gets there though he finds a whole afterlife, including visenya who he fights with in a Top Ten Anime Battles moment (they both wielded dark sister & rode vhagar like CMONNN)

okay excerpt:

Behind him, a girl giggles.

“You cannot kill her, you know,” some fluttering maid teases, and Baelon’s head whips. There is a girl here, a girl of silver-golden hair and purple eyes. She is the loveliest girl he has ever seen, just burgeoning to life and wrapped in the white linen of maidenhood. It falls about her bare feet, bare arms, and bare face. Baelon stares.

“I know you.”

It's stated flatly, but it's a question. Does he know her? He feels he does, feels a strangely familiar fondness mixed with annoyance lurch in his chest...

“Of course you do,” she laughs again. That laugh.

“Viserra?” he chokes out in wonder, and she smiles brightly at him. She looks like a fox, like a little fox. Around her neck is a white ribbon, tied into a dramatic bow that falls like water down her pale neck.

“Brother Baelon,” she smiles wide, tilting her head. The ribbon streams happily in the wind.

Visenya rolls her eyes and shoves Baelon away. He falls, quietly and easily into a cloud, understanding nothing. When Visenya rises, he sees the right hand he severed with sword, somehow formed anew.

[jackyandnuca]

VAELON VELARYON

Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away. So he said to his mother, “I am running away.”

“If you ever run away,” said his mother, “I will run after you, for you are my little bunny.”

Open RP || Interact with this post for me to DM you and we can plot together! CCs and OCs welcomed.

[fernsplaysthings]

Quinn's new look.

[kyglow]

closed starter for @temptaticns muse: vaelon for: ellie

" i'll take it from here. " making his presence known when he addressed one of the hand maidens who had been providing the commoner with a massage lathering her naked bare back with gleaming oils that made her milky skin shine. it was the princes instruction she be pampered, bathed, fed properly with a warm meal and given the best honey dew mead and finally taken to his private bath house with in his uncle's castle to be massaged. it was all a reward after she had saved his life from an ambush one night outside the innkeep in the city and beside the brothel which the prince had been visiting in private as he wanted to keep that a secret since he was soon to be betrothed to another and detested yet hated the thought of being married off by the order of his uncle for the kings personal gain of fortune, land, supply of food or an allegiance. ' yes mi-lord ' the handmaiden would bow her head as she rushed over the prince would place a few crowns in her palm as hush money that he was never here.

the maid exited out of the room as vaelon then sauntered his way over eyeing her. he removed his jacket and then began to unbutton open his attire. " i must say you're quiet beautiful. i bet most men have attempted to capture that lovely heart of yours? " he flashed her small smile when removing his attire now only wearing breeches. " relax. i think it's only fair that i provide my rescuer with some much needed comfort. " his tone pleasant yet coarse. his palms would rub together with lavender scented oils. he placed his callous hands on her shoulders and began to knead them tenderly providing soft squeezes. " most would not have done with what you did but thanks to you i am live and breathe and remain next in line to inherit this kingdom. " his tone not exactly bursting with enthusiasm as his voice remained calm and deep. " why did you do it? was it to gain my favor or perhaps you want something of me? gold, a house or a title? " he queried out of curiosity his smile growing smaller with hands splaying down her back all the way down only to then stop and grope her round plump globes he squeezed and rubbed together.

[novaursa]

The Silent Pyre

- Summary: It was a rainy night when Blood and Cheese came to deliver you your half-sister’s message; a son for a son.

- Pairing: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. Aegon and the reader have four children, the oldest son named Aeron, a daughter, Daena, and twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon. These events happen after Twin Fires and before The Fire That Binds Us. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot. Anonymous user inquired about these events, and I've decided to post it and share it with you all, it has been stashed away for too long in my file graveyard.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (no adult content, but there are graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 5 133

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The night is heavy with the scent of rain, the coolness of autumn seeping into the stones of the Red Keep. The fire in Helaena’s chamber casts long shadows across the walls, flickering as the wind howls faintly outside. You stand by the door, the weight of your crown pressing down upon you as you gaze at your younger sister. Her pale hair gleams like moonlight as she kneels by her children’s cradle, whispering a soft lullaby. Her voice is a quiet, fragile thing, a melody that seems almost too delicate for the world that surrounds you both.

“Helaena,” you murmur, stepping closer. She lifts her head, her violet eyes distant and unfocused, as though she is seeing something far beyond the chamber walls.

“Y/N,” she replies, a small, distracted smile gracing her lips. “Goodnight. May the Seven bless your dreams.”

“And yours, sister.” You reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sleep well.”

With one last glance at her serene face, you turn and leave the room, pulling the door shut softly behind you. The corridor outside is eerily silent, the usual clamor of the servants and guards muted, as if the Keep itself holds its breath.

As you walk through the darkened halls, a sense of unease begins to coil in your chest. The silence feels unnatural, like the calm before a storm. The rain patters against the windows, a steady rhythm that should be soothing, but instead heightens your anxiety. You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, the chill of the stone floors seeping through your slippers.

Your thoughts drift to Aegon, waiting for you in your shared bedchamber. You picture him sprawled across the large bed, his platinum blond hair tousled, perhaps with a goblet of wine in hand. There is comfort in the thought of him, of the warmth of his body against yours, but it does little to dispel the growing dread that gnaws at your insides.

As you approach the nursery, the unease sharpens into fear. You pause, your hand hovering over the door. The sound of something crashing softly from within reaches your ears—a faint, almost imperceptible noise, but enough to send your heart racing. The shadows behind the door shift, moving in ways that shadows should not.

You swallow, forcing down the rising panic. Your children are in there, your precious sons and daughter. Steeling yourself, you push the door open slowly, trying to remain as silent as possible.

The scene before you is one pulled from the darkest of nightmares. The warm, cozy nursery is cast in a pall of terror. Your eyes first find your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, bound and gagged on the floor, her eyes wide with a terror that you have never seen before. She struggles against her bindings, her muffled cries like the wail of a ghost in the suffocating silence.

But it is the two men in the center of the room who capture your attention—the one holding your eldest son, Aeron, in his arms, a cruel knife pressed to his throat, while the other stands nearby, his presence looming and sinister. Your son is awake, tears streaking down his face, his small body trembling in fear.

“Do not scream,” the man holding your son whispers, his voice low and threatening. “Or the boy dies.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea rising within you as the reality of the situation crashes down. You force yourself to remain calm, to not give in to the terror clawing at your heart.

“What do you want?” you manage to say, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“Vengeance,” the other man—Cheese, they will call him, from his size and the rat-like cunning in his eyes—replies coldly. “For son's blood has been spilled. Now, it is your blood that must pay.”

You take a step forward, and the knife digs deeper into Aeron’s tender skin, a small whimper escaping his lips. Your entire body tenses, every instinct screaming at you to protect your child, but you are powerless, bound by the threat that hangs over him like a blade.

“Let my son go,” you plead, your voice cracking. “Please. He is but a child.”

Cheese’s grin is twisted, devoid of mercy. “A choice, Your Grace. You must choose one of your sons. Two to live, and one to die.”

The words hit you like a blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the world spinning as the horror of what they ask becomes clear. They want you to condemn one of your children to death. To choose between your sons.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I cannot.”

“You must,” the man holding Aeron insists, his voice a menacing growl. “Or we kill them all three.”

You look between your sons, your heart shattering into pieces. Aeron, your eldest, so brave despite his fear, his wide eyes pleading silently for you to save him. And twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon, still asleep in their cribs, blissfully unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them.

Tears blur your vision, the anguish of the choice tearing at your soul. You cannot do this. You cannot be the one to decide who lives and who dies. But their lives, three of them, hang in the balance, and the choice is yours to make.

“Please,” you beg once more, though you know it is futile. “Do not make me choose.”

Cheese steps closer, his breath foul as he leans in. “Choose, Queen Y/N. Or your precious children will all die, and it will be on your head.”

The weight of your crown feels like a curse as you stand there, trembling, the choice before you too terrible to comprehend. Your hands are shaking, your heart breaking, as the words begin to form on your lips, but they can't leave them.

The world narrows to the unbearable choice before you, every second stretching into an eternity. You stand frozen, the screams of your heart drowned out by the silence that has gripped your throat. Aeron, your firstborn, stares at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, pleading for a salvation you know you cannot grant him. And there, in their cribs, laid Vaelon and Baelon, so small, so unaware, their chest rising and falling peacefully with each breath.

It is the smaller and younger twin’s innocence, his lack of awareness, that seals your fate. If he must die, let it be without knowing fear. Let him slip from this world in the safety of his dreams.

Your decision comes not from cruelty, but from a twisted, desperate kind of mercy.

“Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice a broken thing. “Take him.”

The words taste like ash on your tongue, a confession of the darkest sin. The man holding Aeron grins, his eyes alight with a sadistic satisfaction. But even as the choice leaves your lips, a cold realization claws at the back of your mind—this was never meant to end well. They were never going to let Aeron live.

You see it happen almost in slow motion, the knife glinting in the dim light as it draws across your eldest son’s throat. The sound that escapes him is a choked gasp, eyes widening in pain and betrayal as the blood wells and spills down his neck.

“No!” The word tears from your throat as you lunge forward, but it is too late. The man has already sliced deeper, crimson blooming like a terrible flower. Yet, Aeron is not yet gone. The blade catches as the man’s hand slips, and in that moment of weakness, Alicent—your mother—finds her strength.

With a fury you have never seen, she throws herself against the man holding Aeron, her bound body knocking him off balance. He stumbles, the knife digging deeper but freeing your son from his grasp. Aeron falls to the floor, clutching at his bleeding throat, his small hands stained red.

A scream of pure, primal rage rips from your chest as you hurl yourself at the man, the world around you narrowing to a singular purpose: kill him. You grab for the knife, your hands slick with Aeron’s blood, and wrest it from his grasp. The man struggles against you, but your desperation lends you strength. With a wild, desperate thrust, you drive the blade into his side, feeling the give of flesh and bone as it sinks in.

He gasps, a wet, gurgling sound, eyes wide in shock as he stumbles backward, clutching at the wound. You pull the knife free and stab again, and again, each strike fueled by the agony that has consumed you. Blood splatters across your face, warm and sickening, but you do not stop until he falls, lifeless, to the floor.

In the chaos, you do not notice Cheese until it is too late. He has turned his attention to one of the twins, to Vaelon, your youngest, the one you had chosen to condemn. As your daughter, Daena, screams—a piercing, heart-rending sound that echoes through the nursery—Cheese moves swiftly, seizing the smaller boy from his crib.

“No! Please!” you cry out, scrambling to your feet, but your voice is drowned by the sheer panic that has overtaken you. You are too far, too slow. Vaelon’s eyes flutter open, confusion and fear flickering across his tiny face as the knife flashes once more.

And then it is done. The light fades from Vaelon’s eyes as his small body crumples to the floor, lifeless. 

A silence falls over the room, broken only by the sound of your daughter’s sobs, Baelon’s baby gurglings and the ragged breaths of Alicent, who is desperately pressing her hands against Aeron’s wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Aeron!” You rush to him, dropping to your knees beside him. His eyes are glazed with pain, his breathing shallow and labored. The wound is deep, but he is alive, clinging to life by the barest thread.

Cheese is panicking now, his eyes darting around the room as if realizing for the first time the gravity of what they have done. The plan, whatever it was, has gone horribly wrong. He looks at the bodies—the man you killed, Vaelon’s small, lifeless form—and he falters, unsure of his next move.

“You will die for this,” you hiss, every word trembling with a deadly promise. “You will not leave this room alive.”

Cheese takes a step back, fear flashing in his eyes, but before he can act, you move. Fueled by a mother’s wrath and the madness of grief, you surge forward, the bloodied knife still clutched in your hand. He tries to fend you off, but he is no match for the fury that drives you. With a wild, savage strike, you plunge the knife into his chest.

He gasps, a final breath escaping his lips as his eyes go wide, then glassy. He collapses to the floor, joining his fallen companion in death.

You stand there, panting, covered in the blood of your children’s murderers, and of your children themselves. Your hands shake as you drop the knife, the sound of it clattering to the floor barely registering in your mind.

“Y/N,” Alicent calls out, her voice trembling. “Aeron needs you.”

You blink, the fog of rage lifting just enough for you to focus on your son. You drop to your knees beside him, your hands finding his, trying to staunch the flow of blood with trembling fingers.

“Stay with me, my love,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Stay with me. Please.”

Alicent is beside you, pressing her hands down on the wound with all her might. “He’s strong,” she says, though her voice wavers. “He will survive this.”

You nod, though your heart is breaking. You dare not look at Vaelon’s still form, his twin, Baelon, now wide awake in his crib, or at your daughter, Daena, who is now curled into a ball in the corner, sobbing for her brothers. You can only focus on Aeron, on keeping him alive, as the horror of what has happened sinks into your soul.

The night is no longer just cold and rainy; it has become a night of death and despair, one that will haunt you until your last breath. But you will not let it claim Aeron. Not him, too.

And as the dawn begins to break, casting pale light over the carnage, you hold your son close, praying to the Seven to spare him. To spare at least one of your children, as the taste of your own choice, the bitterness of it, poisons your every breath.

Aegon sits in the dim light of your shared bedchamber, his goblet of wine resting lazily in his hand. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, but the warmth it offers does little to chase away the chill of the autumn night. He sighs, his thoughts drifting to you, knowing that you will join him soon. The bond you share, forged not only by blood but by a deep, consuming love, is one that neither of you can escape, nor would you wish to. Sleep eludes him without you by his side, as it always has since you were children. 

He takes another sip of the wine, waiting for the familiar sound of your footsteps approaching. The thought of the night ahead, of holding you close, offers a comfort that softens the weariness in his bones.

But then, a scream pierces the stillness of the night—a scream that he recognizes instantly as belonging to your daughter. It is followed by your voice, raw with anguish, echoing down the corridors.

The goblet slips from his hand, clattering to the floor as he leaps to his feet. The wine spills across the stone, forgotten as dread seizes him. He knows something is terribly wrong. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushes to the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Your Grace!” one of the Kingsguard calls as they fall into step behind him, but Aegon doesn’t respond. The only thought in his mind is to reach you, to reach his children.

He tears down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone, until he reaches the nursery. The door is ajar, shadows flickering ominously in the light from the hallway. The scent of copper fills his nostrils before he even crosses the threshold, a scent that chills him to the core.

He bursts into the room, but in his haste, he doesn’t notice the slickness beneath his feet until it’s too late. His foot slips on the blood that pools on the floor, and he stumbles, barely catching himself on the doorframe before he can fall.

For a moment, everything seems to slow. He looks down at the blood smeared across the floor, the vivid red of it stark against the stone. And then he sees the scene before him, a tableau of horror that makes his breath catch in his throat.

Two men lie dead on the floor, their bodies twisted in death, blood oozing from fatal wounds. But it is not them that hold his attention; it is the small, lifeless form of Vaelon, his infant son, lying not far from them, his throat cruelly slit. Aegon’s heart seizes, his vision blurring with tears that he fights to hold back.

“No… no, no…” The words are barely a whisper as he staggers forward, his mind unable to fully comprehend the sight before him.

But there is more—your mother, Alicent, is on the floor, her hands pressed desperately against Aeron’s throat, trying to stem the flow of blood. And there you are, kneeling beside your eldest son, your hands covered in blood, your face a mask of desperation and despair as you try to keep him alive.

“Y/N!” Aegon chokes out your name as he rushes to you, his voice filled with fear and anguish. “What… what happened?”

You look up at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and the sight of you breaks something deep within him. “Aegon… they… they killed Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “They tried to kill Aeron… we… I couldn’t stop them…”

Aegon falls to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly over Aeron, unsure of what to do. He can see the life fading from his eldest son’s eyes, the pale skin, the way his breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps. Aegon feels a crushing sense of helplessness, something he has never experienced with such intensity before.

“Aeron, my boy… stay with us,” Aegon pleads, his voice thick with emotion as he brushes a trembling hand over Aeron’s hair. “Stay with us, please…”

Alicent looks up at her son, her own eyes filled with tears, though she fights to keep them at bay. “We need to stop the bleeding, Aegon. If we don’t… if we don’t…”

“I know,” Aegon says, though his voice is strangled. He tears a strip of cloth from his sleeve, pressing it to Aeron’s wound with a firm but gentle hand. “Stay with me, Aeron. You’re strong. You can fight this.”

But even as he says the words, he feels the cold dread settle in his chest, knowing that the wound is too deep, that his son’s life is slipping away with every passing moment. 

You lean into Aegon, your body shaking with sobs as you press your bloodstained hands over his, trying to help, trying to do something—anything—to save your child. But the blood keeps coming, seeping through your fingers, staining the floor beneath you.

“Please… please…” you whisper, over and over, your voice breaking with each word. “Don’t take him from us…”

Aegon pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you even as he continues to press down on Aeron’s wound. He can feel your pain, your sorrow, as if it were his own, and in that moment, he knows that this night will haunt both of you for the rest of your lives.

The Kingsguard finally arrive, swords drawn, their faces pale as they take in the scene before them. But there is nothing they can do; the threat is already gone, the deed already done. All they can do is stand there, silent and grim, as the horror of what has happened sinks in.

“Get a maester!” Aegon commands, his voice rising with desperate urgency. “Now!”

One of the guards rushes off without a word, the others standing watch as if expecting another attack, though it is clear that the danger has passed. Aegon looks down at Aeron, his heart breaking as he watches the light in his son’s eyes flicker and fade.

“Stay with us, Aeron,” he whispers again, but the words sound hollow, empty, even to his own ears.

Alicent, her hands still pressed against the wound, glances at you, her eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it seems to swallow the room whole. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice thick with grief, “he’s… he’s still fighting. But we need to prepare ourselves… we need to…”

“No!” You cry out, shaking your head violently. “No, he’s going to survive. He has to. He’s strong. Please, Aegon, tell her… tell her he’s going to survive.”

Aegon swallows hard, trying to keep the tears at bay as he looks at you, seeing the hope in your eyes, fragile and desperate. “He’s strong,” he agrees, his voice trembling. “He’s a dragon. He’ll survive this.”

But even as he says the words, he knows that they are more for your sake than for his own. He knows the truth, as much as he hates it, as much as it tears at his very soul.

And then, as if in response to your pleas, Aeron’s breathing hitches, a faint, ragged sound that sends a jolt of hope through your heart. But Aegon sees the truth in the way his son’s eyes begin to flutter shut, the way his small body goes limp beneath your hands.

“No, no, stay with us, please…” you sob, your voice breaking completely as you try to shake him awake, as if you can keep him from slipping away just by sheer will alone.

Aegon pulls you closer, holding you tightly against him, his own tears falling freely now. “Y/N… he’s…”

But before he can finish, the maester arrives, pushing his way into the room with a satchel of supplies. He takes one look at Aeron and immediately sets to work, but Aegon can see it in his eyes—the resignation, the grim acceptance of what is to come.

Aegon watches as the maester tries to stem the bleeding, his hands moving quickly, efficiently, but it is clear that he is fighting a losing battle. You cling to Aegon, your tears soaking into his tunic as you watch, your breath catching in your throat every time Aeron’s breathing falters.

Minutes pass, each one stretching into an eternity, until finally, Orwyle pulls back, his face pale and drawn. He looks up at Aegon, then at you, and shakes his head, his expression filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he says quietly. “There’s… there’s nothing more I can do.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you cry out, your hands trembling as you reach for Aeron, as if you can somehow pull him back from the brink.

“No… no, please, no…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cradle your son’s head in your lap, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Aegon feels his heart shatter completely as he watches you, as he sees the light finally fade from Aeron’s eyes, his small body going still in your arms. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but hold you as you break down completely.

The days following the brutal attack on your family pass in a haze of grief and despair. The Red Keep is draped in a suffocating silence, its once lively halls now cold and empty, as though the life has been drained from its very walls. The horror of that night lingers in every corner, every shadow, a constant reminder of the blood that was spilled and the lives that were lost.

Your remaining children, Daena and Baelon, are kept under the strictest watch by the Kingsguard. No less than two knights are stationed outside their chambers at all times, and they are never left alone, not even for a moment. The memory of what happened to their brothers hangs over the nursery like a dark cloud, and every sound, every creak of the floorboards, sends a fresh wave of terror through the household.

But it is you, their mother, who is most affected. The grief has hollowed you out, leaving you a mere shadow of the woman you once were. You spend your days in a state of numbness, your heart shattered beyond repair. Nothing and no one can console you, not even Aegon, who tries desperately to reach you, to bring you back from the edge of the abyss into which you have fallen. But his attempts are in vain. You are inconsolable, broken beyond words.

Aegon himself is a man consumed by fury. The fire of his rage burns hotter with each passing day, fueled by the sheer injustice of what has happened. He holds a small council meeting in the dead of night, summoning only those he trusts—or at least, those whose loyalties he can control.

In the dimly lit council chamber, Aegon sits at the head of the table, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles are white. His eyes are bloodshot, his face drawn and pale from lack of sleep. The tension in the room is palpable, every man present feeling the weight of the King’s anger pressing down on them like a physical force.

Around the table sit Otto Hightower, his face a mask of stern concern; Ser Criston Cole, his expression grim and unyielding; Lord Larys Strong, who watches the proceedings with his usual calculating gaze; Lord Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws, his fingers tapping nervously on the table; Lord Tayland Lannister, the Master of Ships, who remains unusually quiet; and Grand Maester Orwyle, who sits with his hands folded, his eyes downcast.

Aegon’s voice breaks the silence, a low, seething growl that sends a shiver down the spine of everyone in the room. “How did this happen?” he demands, his eyes blazing with fury as he looks from one man to the next. “How did two men infiltrate the heart of the Red Keep, murder my sons, and nearly take the life of my other children without anyone knowing? Where were the guards? Where was the protection I was promised?”

Otto is the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. “Your Grace, we are all grieved by this tragedy, but rest assured, we are investigating every possible lead. The guards who were on duty that night have been questioned, and those found negligent will be dealt with severely.”

“Dealt with severely?” Aegon echoes, his voice rising with incredulity. “My sons are dead, and you speak of discipline as if that can undo what has been done! This was not just negligence—this was treason, betrayal of the highest order!”

Ser Criston Cole, ever the loyal sword, speaks next, his tone as hard as steel. “Your Grace, the Kingsguard were stationed as ordered, but the enemy was cunning. They knew exactly where to strike, and when. We are searching for any who might have aided them from within the Keep.”

Aegon glares at him, his anger still simmering. “You should have been there, Ser Criston. You should have been protecting my family, as you swore to do.”

Criston bows his head, accepting the rebuke without argument. “I failed you, my king, and I will bear that burden until the day I die.”

Larys Strong, who has remained silent until now, leans forward slightly, his voice smooth and unhurried as he speaks. “Your Grace, the men who did this were not acting alone. This attack was meticulously planned, designed to strike at the heart of your family and weaken your claim. There is but one who stands to gain the most from such an act of terror.”

Aegon’s eyes narrow as he fixes his gaze on Larys. “Speak plainly, Lord Strong. Who do you accuse?”

Larys meets Aegon’s gaze without flinching, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her husband, Daemon. They are the ones behind this atrocity. They seek to undermine your rule, to sow chaos and discord within the realm, so that Rhaenyra might usurp your throne.”

Aegon’s breath hitches at the mention of his half-sister’s name. His hatred for her is no secret, but to hear that she might be responsible for the deaths of his sons sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through him. “You have proof of this?” he demands, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

Larys inclines his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The men who committed the murders—the butcher and the rat catcher—are known associates of Daemon Targaryen. They were hired by him to carry out this heinous act. The gold they were paid with was traced back to Rhaenyra’s supporters in King’s Landing. This was not just an act of violence—it was a message. Response to the death of Lucerys Velaryon by the hand of Prince Aemond.”

Aegon’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into the wood of the table. “A message? They dare to send me a message by murdering my sons? Two innocent boys?”

“Yes,” Larys replies, his voice as cold as ice. “They wish to show that you are vulnerable, that your rule can be challenged. They wish to provoke you into rash action, to draw you into a conflict that will weaken your position.”

“Rash action?” Aegon scoffs, his anger flaring anew. “They think they can provoke me? They think I will sit idly by while they murder my children?”

“Your Grace,” Otto interjects, his voice measured. “We must be careful. If we move too quickly, without proof, we risk turning the realm against us. Rhaenyra still has many supporters. We must gather our strength, consolidate our power, and then strike when the time is right.”

But Aegon is beyond reason, his grief and rage too great to be tempered by caution. “I will not wait!” he snarls, slamming his fist on the table. “They have taken from me what I hold most dear, and I will make them pay for it, tenfold! If Rhaenyra wants war, then war she shall have!”

The council members exchange uneasy glances, each man aware of the storm that is about to be unleashed. Aegon’s wrath is a dangerous thing, and they know that nothing they say will dissuade him from the course he has set.

Grand Maester Orwyle finally speaks, his voice soft but insistent. “Your Grace, the lives of your remaining children—Princess Daena and Prince Baelon—must be your foremost concern. They are the future of your house, and they must be protected at all costs.”

Aegon’s expression softens slightly at the mention of his children, the thought of them momentarily piercing through the fog of his anger. He knows that Orwyle is right, that the safety of Daena and Baelon is paramount. But even this knowledge cannot quell the burning desire for vengeance that has taken root in his heart.

“I will protect them,” he says, his voice hardening once more. “But I will not allow this attack to go unanswered. Rhaenyra and Daemon will know the price of crossing me.”

Otto inclines his head, understanding that there is no turning back now. “Then we must prepare for war, Your Grace. We must rally our banners, secure our allies, and strike swiftly and decisively.”

Aegon nods, his jaw set with determination. “Do it. Call the banners, prepare the dragons. We will bring fire and blood to those who dare to defy us.”

The council members rise from their seats, each man knowing that the decisions made this night will plunge the realm into chaos. As they leave the chamber, Aegon remains behind, staring at the bloodstained map of Westeros spread out before him. His thoughts drift to you, to the shattered look in your eyes, to the bodies of his sons lying cold in their graves.

He swears to himself, to the gods, and to the memory of his murdered children that he will not rest until Rhaenyra and Daemon are brought to justice. No matter the cost, no matter the blood that must be spilled, he will have his revenge.

And so, the storm begins to gather, the winds of war stirring in the darkness of the Red Keep.

[kelleigh-say]

Jacemond children as adults.

Caesaron (Cuh-SAIR-uhn)

Naehaerys (Nuh-HAIR-iss)

Vaelon (Vay-LUHN)

Vishaera (Vi-SHIR-uh)

Rhaelees (Ray-LEES)

They make good looking kids.

[allkordelia]

Keep Me in Your Thoughts (57)

Rhaelle haven't been to dragonstone in years, the last time she was there was when viserys invited her and her family to celebrate helaena's fifth nameday. A week long celebration ended up being a three day stay after daemon got into a argument with viserys, daemon wouldn't tell rhaelle or laena what it was about so they ended up not bringing it up again.

Rhaelle held gaemon and gaela's hand while baby daena slept soundly in the baby wrap carrier on her chest, they walk behind as daemon walk ahead with their other children. Before coming here rhaelle had to tell maekar and baelon that they had to apologize to rhaenyra and her sons for the words they said in the tunnels weeks ago, they werent happy about it but rhaelle didn't want any sensation between the children and beside jacerys and lucerys didn't deserve to be call such words, they are actually sweet children. But, their mother on they other hand is a different story, she is how old and still acting like she is in her younger years.

"Mama..." rhaelle was pull out her thought by gaela making her look down at her daughter in question as they stop in the chamber of the painted table, "....I don't like it here, it's scary." Gaela said glancing around the room uncomforable making Rhaelle frown and look around the room too, yes the place is a bit gloomy especially with the dark colors and the odd paintings on the wall. 

"I know darling but all it needs is a bit of sunshine and a touch of love, and it will be like living in pentos again." Gaela look over at her brother, gaemon, who was burying in his face in rhaelle's side not liking the scary dragon paintings around.

"Okay, mama." Gaela said softly making rhaelle give a small smile as her hand rub gaela's back before she pull the girl close to her.

As daemon left to summon the servants to get their things, rhaenyra and her children walk in the chamber of the painted table.

"Princess Rhaelle." Rhaenyra acknowledged softly with her hand clasp together and front of her, she look over at her younger cousins, "Princesses and princes." She greeted with a head bow, rhaelle's children look back at her with blank looks while aemon gave a small smile and greeted her back.

"Princess Rhaenyra," rhaelle said monotone before looking at her nephews and neice, "Hello, prince jacerys, lucerys, and princess jaenara." Jacerys and lucerys greeted rhaelle back but jaenara stayed quiet as she stood by her mother.

"Where is our husband, princess." Rhaenyra ask as her eyes glancing around the room before coming closer making rhaelle look her up and down. 

"I believe to summon the servants." Rhaenyra hmm with a nod before the room was filled with silence, rhaelle look over at vaelon and maekar to see them looking at the table with aemon in awe.

"Maekar. Baelon." The three boys look over at their mother as they take a step back from the table, "Do you have something you would like to say to your cousins." The boys scowl softly at their mother who raised a brow at them as she gave them a hard look.

Maekar sigh as he walk from the table to stand a few feet away from rhaenyra and her children with baelon following behind.

"Luke. Jace. I'm sorry." Maekar said as he look at his younger cousins before looking at rhaenyra, "I am sorry to you too, princess rhaenyra." Rhaenyra nod her head.

"Your apology is accepted, young prince." Rhaenyra says as jace and luke nod in agreement of their mother, maekar elbow baelon making the toung boy huff with a eyeroll.

"I'm sorry too." He said montone as he stare at rhaenyra blankly, rhaenyra narrow her eyes at the young boy before rethinking and giving him a small smile.

"Thank you, young princes." Rhaenyra look at rhaelle as if waiting for her to say something, rhaelle quirk a brow at the princess making her look away from her, she should knew better to think that rhaelle was going to apologize for hitting her.

Daemon walked in the room with several servants behind him, they went over to their things as daemon came up to rhaelle passing rhaenyra.

"Your rooms in the Sea Dragon Tower are already setup, after dinner I'll show the children to their rooms and you to mines." He said low as his hand went to rest on rhaelle's hip.

"Sounds good, my love." Rhaelle smile at her husband who smile back at her before kissing her cheek, daemon pull back to face the rest of their family.

"Come along, everyone. Dinner is ready." Gaela walk to her father and tug on his robes making him look down at her as she held up her arms asking him to pick her up, daemon gave a smile and bend picking up their daughter.

Rhaelle smile at daemon putting in the effort in trying to form an relationship with gaela, gaemon tug on rhaelle's hand making her chuckle as her son pull her along to follow his father and siblings.

Dinner was silent and tensed. No one said a word as they all ate in silence, not even rhaelle and daemon, they sensed the tension and thought since it was the first day there it was going to be a bit awkward so they didn't want to get the children to talk to one another. So, after dinner, daemon showed the children where they will be staying before daemon brought rhaelle to his chamber.

As they get ready for bed, rhaelle and daemon talked about dinner.

"I can't say I didn't expect it." Daemon said mentioning the quiet dinner.

"Me either." Rhaelle replied tired as she got under the covers, "I just hope in time they will get along again." Daemon blew out the candles and  crawl into bed next to rhaelle.

"They will. They are children after all, and the strong boys do not hold grudges." Rhaelle glare at daemon in the dark for referring to jacerys and lucerys as "strong boys", "Goodnight, my love." Daemon kiss his wife on the cheek before he laid on his back, rhaelle stayed laid up against the bed thinking.

"Goodnight," she whispered back.

She wanted the children to get along, especially since they were going ro be living together for here on out. The idea of staying at Driftmark castle while rhaenyra and her children stay at dragonstone cross her mind, but she didn't want daemon to spend all his time with her not when he must also do his duties as a father not rhaenyra's children now that they loss their father. She had to remember to discuss being a father figure for rhaenyra's children especially to jacerys since he needs a man to show him how to be a good leader once he is older, she also has to work on rebuilding some ground between her and rhaenyra.

She knows if the children see rhaenyra and rhaelle acting bitter to one another, the children will think it's okay to do it to one another and rhaelle can't make that happen. So, she has to swallow her pride and try to make it work with rhaenyra, for the sake of the children.

—

Rhaelle was on the couch reading a book in the great chamber, it was dark only the fireplace composing light for her to read. Daemon was with the boys training them, while the others were scattered around the castle. Daena was taking her afternoon nap, gaemon and gaela were in their rooms with their handmaid drawing, alys was outside with baela watching the boys train, and rhaena and alyssa were gone visiting their grandmother. She had no idea where jaenara was (probably with her mother) rhaelle has been trying not to think too much about the young velaryon girl, she doesn't know how but she sense Alys doesn't like jaenara anymore and she fears it because of what rhaenyra said that night.

"Yes, my daughter. Mine. Not yours." Rhaenys look rhaelle up and down with sneer, "No matter how much you want her to be she is not your daughter..."

Rhaelle took in a deep breathe before exhaling at the memory, she never felt so embarrassed or ashamed. Her children had to hear rhaenyra say that, alys had to hear that, the little girl has been acting very cold towards rhaelle for the pass few days. It seems every time she sees rhaelle interacting with jaenara, the girl begins to get into a bad mood and take it out on jaenara.

Rhaelle tried to talk to alys about her behavior towards jaenara, but once jaenara's name leaves rhaelle's mouth. The young girl burst into tears and cries until rhaelle comforts her and gets her to calm down, once calm rhaelle would forget the subject and take alys for a walk along the shoreline. Alys have also taken to clinging to rhaelle's side, she haven't seen her daughter like this since rhaelle had to give all her attention to baelon when he fall badly ill. She thinks her daughter might have a problem with sharing her mother, rhaelle was not use to having a child who was so possessive over her.

The only person she knew who was like that was daemon, and usually it didn't end well with his contant hovering and lack of consideration.

The doors to the great chamber was open making rhaelle's squint her eyes as she look at the door that brought in so much light, a female servant walk in with her hands clasp in front of her with a concern look.

"M'lady. You are needed in the chamber of the painted table." Rhaelle frown before she put her book aside for later, as the servant turn on her feet and guided rhaelle to the familiar chamber.

After three full moons, rhaelle didn't need her cane anymore now that her broken hip was finally healed, she still felt a dull pain in her left hip but she was happy that she didn't have to carry around her cane anymore. It made her feel old.

Rhaelle walked into the room to find Daemon staring down at baelon who had his arms cross over his face and a scowl on his young face along with a busted lip, while rhaenyra was standing next to jacerys who also had a scowl on his face along with a bruise on his cheek.

"What did you do." Rhaelle ask knowingly it was her son who started it as she walk up to her son, baelon didn't look at her as he kept scowling the ground, daemon smack baelon in the back of his head.

"Your mother ask you a question, baelon." Daemon hiss making rhaelle give daemon a look before looking at her son who finally glance up at his mother before looking away.

"It...was a misunderstanding, mother." Rhaelle furrow her brows and look over at jacerys and rhaenyra.

"A misunderstanding, huh? If it was a misunderstanding than you can explain why your cousin has a bruise cheek and you a busted lip." Rhaelle cross her arms and look at her child, baelon let out a low groan making rhaelle narrow her eyes at him.

"It was nothing." He stated under his breathe making rhaelle sigh and rub her eyes.

"Baelon. What happened....and the truth, please." Baelon huff and look at his mother.

"He...went into my chamber without asking, and took something that belong to me." Daemon and rhaelle shared a look, they didn't believe what their son said was true, "You don't believe me?" They look back at their son.

"What did he take from you?" Daemon ask, baelon swallow taking a moment before answering.

"My...My sword. My wooden sword that you made me, he took it." Daemon narrow his eyes at his son still not convinced.

"You hurt my son over a toy sword." Rhaenyra said angry, the two parents and the child ignore rhaenyra.

"Baelon, we use our words not our fist, you should have came to your father or me to tell us before taking things into your own hands." Rhaelle said sternly, "You will apologize and return to your chamber and stay there until dinner is ready." A flicker of relief pass through baelon's lavender eyes before he look away making rhaelle furrow her brows at her son's odd reaction to his punishment.

"Okay, mother." Rhaelle watch as baelon turn to jacerys to apologize, jacerys gave a nod forgiving baelon.

"I'll escort baelon to his chamber, and jacerys to hiss lesson." Daemon told rhaelle making her turn to him, he kiss her cheek making her give him a small smile, "See you at dinner, my belove." Daemon smile at his wife before he look at baelon who march ahead of his father toward the door with jacerys close behind, daemon gave rhaelle one more smile before following after the children.

Rhaenyra watch as her husbsnd completely ignore her as he stalk pass her to catch up with thr boys, rhaelle could see the defeat in rhaenyra's shoulder and sadness on her face. When rhaenyra sense someone watching her she turn her eyes to look at rhaelle, the older princess looks away from her second wife to the table, her finders drag along the carvings as she thinks.

"He really loves you." Rhaelle lifted her head up quickly taken back as she looks at rhaenyra.

"I'm sorry?" Rhaelle thinking about baelon so she didn't properly listen to what rhaenyra said, rhaenyra walks towards the table.

"When I was younger I...never believe my uncle could ever love anyone but himself," rhaenyra stood to parallel to rhaelle, "It was who he was, he was the rogue prince, the heathen who took what he wanted no matter the consequences and damn to all he hurt, but yet you changed him." Rhaelle glance away from rhaenyra.

"I didn't change him, he changed himself."

"Yes, but for you, he made himself better for you." Rhaelle look back at rhaenyra, "But, what I can't understand is why you, your not special, he knows that you shared a child with my father and otto, but yet he still wants to be with you. Why is that?" Rhaelle stare at rhaenyra in disbelief, the woman who is suppose to be their future queen could not for the life of her stop being a bitch towards rhaelle.

"Must you always be a cunt, rhaenyra." Rhaenyra shrug her shoulders unfaze.

"I'm just asking a question." Rhaelle gave the young woman an eyeroll.

"No, your looking for a fight and I won't give it to you."

"I just want to know what it is about you that makes daemon act like a bastard towards me,"

"Did you ever think maybe it's because your such a horrible woman towards his wife." It was rhaenyra turn to give a eyeroll inconceivable at the thought, "I'm being serious maybe try being a little nicer to me and maybe daemon won't treat you like a nuisance."

"Why should I be nice to you, when all you ever done is be unkind to me." Rhaelle let out an unbelievable scoff.

"Let's be honest, rhaenyra. All I ever done to you is give your father a son and married daemon, it is you who is the problem and it is you who will continue to push daemon further away." Rhaelle watch as rhaenyra's jaw slant before she right herself and look away.

"It's not fair." She muttered but rhaelle heard her.

"What's not fair, rhaenyra. That I get daemon and you don't."

"No." Rhaenyra look back at rhaelle with misty eyes, "You still have someone who loves you while I am here left with no one," rhaelle frown at the young woman, rhaenyra cast her eyes down, "I thought I could use daemon to fill the hole in my heart with sex, if it keeps me from thinking about my own loneliness and fallen love." Rhaelle looks at rhaenyra with a hint of pity, she couldn't imagine how devastating rhaenyra was when she heard about ser strong.

"You could always take another...as your own." Rhaelle suggest.

"Too risky. It's hard to find someone to trust these days," rhaenyra sighs, "And I don't know what's worse having a husband who won't consummate his marriage with me or always being worried that my love would betrayal me and my children."

Rhaelle was taken by surpise by rhaenyra's confession, she never knew that daemon didn't consummate his marriage, in all honesty, she didn't want to think about it. But, now hearing that rhaenyra couldn't get daemon to even consummate their marriage made her smile a little.

"I'm happy my pain can bring you some sick joy," rhaelle blinks as she focus on rhaenyra who wipe at her eye with her hand making rhaelle purse her lips.

"I wasn't...forget it, look rhaenyra." Rhaelle started making rhaenyra look at her, "If fucking daemon gets you to be a bit nicer around my children and bearable, I'll talk to daemon about visiting your chamber tonight." Rhaenyra furrow her brows as she look at rhaelle unsure and confuse.

"You...will so that...for me?" She ask making rhaelle nod.

"No, I'm doing it for my sake, and besides woman have needs. I for one can understand that, but if I do this we must come to an agreement." Rhaenyra look at rhaelle curiously.

"What sort of agreement." She ask.

"It have come to my understanding that our children do as we do, they see us arguing or fighting, it will make them argue and fight. I propose that we put our differences aside and be kinder to one another and help each other out."

"And in return, daemon visits my chamber every night before he comes to see you." Rhaelle laugh looking away from the spoiled princess.

"That's if he agrees to this and even if he does, you will be either seeing my husband after me or two times a week not every night." Rhaenyra poke her cheek with her tongue in thought, "Or another alternative." Rhaenyra quirk her brow at rhaelle, "If you want daemon every night you will have to share him with me in our chamber." Rhaelle said with smirk as she watch rhaenyra look at her with wide eyes in disbelief, she knows that rhaenyra will never go for that so...

"I'll rather see fortnightly." Rhaelle hmms in victory.

"I knew you chose the right choice." Rhaenyra watch rhaelle with a sour look as the woman once called queen turns her back to her to walk away, "I'll be in the garden if you need me." Rhaelle said over shoulder before walking out of the chamber.

@beggarsnotchoosey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @avidreader73 @green-lxght @spderm4nnnn @supermassiveblackhope @watercolorskyy @stargaryenx

[dragonnwriter]

Inviolable Bindings

AemondxAegonxFemOC

All Chapters Here!

Summary:

Viserra was named after her great aunt; a spirited and determined girl. Her own grandmother, Saera Targaryen was also a fierce and difficult woman, having been exiled and lived a life abhorred by her Targaryen family back in the Seven Kingdoms. This is the story of an impetuous girl searching for her place in the world and finding belonging and heartbreak along the way. The blood of the dragon runs hot in her veins and for the first time in her life, she finds others who share the same fire. Thrown in to the chaos of an unstable Kingdom during the fight for the crown, Viserra also realizes she has caused contention between the very family she sought belong to.

Slow burn.

Chapter 1:

King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne bore six sons and seven daughters by 80 AC. Not one of their children would live without tragedy and this seemed especially true for the princesses’ that survived infancy. The fifth daughter born to them was Princess Saera Targaryen, a fierce and difficult young woman. Who after a long bout of rebellion, used her intelligence and wit to escape sentencing with the Faith in Oldtown. Eventually, she escaped to Volantis and lived out a life abhorred by her Targaryen family back in the Seven Kingdoms.

Saera bore three sons of noble birth in Volantis, though none of them seemed to have made much of a name for themselves. Her youngest son, Vaelon, was said to greatly resemble his grandsire and had once tried to lay claim to the throne when the Jaehaerys’ naming of an heir was uncertain.

Encouraged by his mother, Vaelon carried his Volantene wealth to Westeros to try and persuade the lords to support his claim. However, with no deep-rooted connections to the Seven Kingdoms beyond his Targaryen blood, his request was ultimately rejected, and the title was awarded to his cousin, Viserys. With only minor disappointment, he utilized his wealth to barter for a dragon egg, hoping that if it hatched, it would grant him more influence and prosperity back in Volantis.

Over the years, the egg never made an indication that it would hatch for him, even when kept warm and always near the fire. It was when his daughter was born more than a decade later, that his hopes for it would hatch finally began to gain some merit.

Princess Saera’s granddaughter was born with fire in her veins, her Targaryen blood evident from the time she took her very first breath and let out a roaring cry. She survived her mother, who eventually succumbed to the complications from a long and difficult labor, and surprised the birth attendants who assumed the child would be stillborn.

Proving to already be formidable and strong willed, she was named after her grandmother’s sister, Princess Viserra Targaryen. The tales described this daughter of King Jaehaerys as another spirited and determined young woman, though she unfortunately had met her demise due to her reckless and rebellious behavior.

Saera had suggested that they place the dragon egg in her cradle almost immediately after Viserra was born. While the body heat of a babe was nowhere near as warm as embers, she believed that temperature was not the factor that could influence its success in hatching.

On the day that Viserra’s mother died, just four days after her birth, the egg coincidently began to crack. A small, black and red dragon hatched almost as if there had been some kind of magical exchange between life and death. From that day forward, the little girl and her dragon were inseparable and once she could talk, she called her dragon Rhyn.

Growing up, little Viserra was well aware of her family’s history, and prided herself on being well read across many topics. She was taught both high and low Valyrian alike, to be able to communicate with the low born and slaves that remained outside of the Black Walls.

Having only lived in the riches of Volantis, she had an insatiable curiosity for her family’s legacy and an ever persistent desire to meet those who also shared her Targaryen blood. Her grandmother had only encouraged this inquisitiveness, despite her father’s wariness, repeatedly reminding him that if he tried to hold her back, she would only find her own way to what she wanted. As she learned and read more about Westeros, her desire to leave the Free Cities only grew.

When Viserra was six years of age, she had been brought to a fighting pit for the first time. Instantly enamored with it all, she had begged her father to learn how to wield a sword and at one point had refused her studies until he had agreed to find someone to teach her. 

Vaelon sent word for a man he had met many years before, an old friend and talented Braavosi swords master named Davos. While initially he did not think much would come from the request, he was impressed with her the first time she wielded a blade, it seemed as if it were an extension of her arm. For years, he stayed in Volantis and became Viserra’s dedicated instructor and mentor in weaponry. Even with her youthful ignorance, she seemed to already know the potential for her own greatness. Davos saw this as well and pushed her further in her sword skills and studies.

“I believe you will do great things one day, Viserra. Your Targaryen blood gives you a fire that many others can only dream of.” Her father would tell her, only to have her roll her eyes at him.

By the time she reached the age of eight and ten, she had traveled all across the Free Cities with Davos, fighting in small arenas to refine her skills and learning all about the different customs of each land. She had even participated in several fighting pits in Meereen, making a name for herself in the large city. As a woman, they had called her many things, all unbecoming of a noble woman, she showed no mercy on those who disrespected or underestimated her. 

Pentos had been the last place the pair was to stop before traveling home to Volantis. There, Viserra learned that her cousins, Prince Daemon and wife Lady Laena had stayed for years before childbirth took the dragonrider’s life. Finally residing in a place where her blood had also stayed greatened the longing she felt to meet the family who seemed to not only share her looks, but her boldness and fire.

The few weeks spent in Pentos were not focused on training or sparring. The merchant lords took great pride in hosting a dragonrider and there had been much feasting and partaking in Pentoshi wines and delicacies. Truth be told, she didn’t have any more patience for another poor attempt at courting by one of the young Magisters.

Viserra found herself pleasantly surprised when her father had showed up in the last few days before she was to depart back home. Pentos had been known to be their last stop but his urgency to see her gave suspicion that this was more than just a coincidence. Vaelon had seemed anxious when he saw her and she could sense that there was something troubling his mind.

Meaningful conversation had been put off until dinner that night. At first he divulged rumors that the Seven Kingdoms was quietly dividing in the decision of the King’s heir. There were whispers that some would not support a woman as Queen, but instead called for his firstborn son to be crowned.

News and rumors from the Seven Kingdoms were constantly circulating within the Free Cities. This information surely would have reached her even in her distant location, so she listened attentively, pondering why her father had undertaken the journey to reach Pentos and deliver this message to her sooner.

“Viserra,” her father sighed, suddenly placing his hand on top of hers at the table, “I know that you have always desired to ride across the narrow sea and see the history and lands of our family.”

She nodded, watching his face closely, realizing there was indeed more to this conversation.

“The Seven Kingdoms are unstable and King Viserys’ health has been declining rather rapidly. His impending demise is bound to thrust the realm into chaos. Maintaining peace and stability will necessitate both power and dragons in the aftermath. Although there are countless rumors, some less credible than others, I believe it might be the opportune time for you to resume your journey across the Narrow Sea.”

She contemplated in silence for a moment, feeling as though her father had already orchestrated some sort of plan without her input. Decisions seemed to have been made, leaving her with little say in the matter. She attempted to conceal her irritation but found it challenging.  “What of it Father? Would you have me fly to their doorstep and present myself on the basis of rumors? That sounds as foolish as admitting treason to the face of a king and expecting not to be thrown in the dungeons.”

There was a palpable tension between them and Viserra pursed her lips together while patiently waiting for her father to get to his point.

“My dear, I have received a letter directly from the Hand of the King. He has heard his own rumors regarding your travels throughout Essos. I confirmed his suspicions, verifying that you were indeed Saera Targaryen's granddaughter. They are willing to overlook the actions of my mother in turn for the support of another dragon rider.” He stared at her, looking for an answer but found that she did not give much away with her expression.

“I will go.” Viserra nodded, pulling her hand from his. “When?”

Vaelon displayed a relieved smile and nodded, grateful that she didn't reprimand him for handling these communications without her prior knowledge. "They have asked you to depart as expeditiously as possible upon accepting this proposition.."

Furrowing her brows, let out a sigh, slightly irritated at being part of someone else's agenda and now being rushed on top of it. 

“You will fly on dragonback for the venture. If you leave at dawn, you will make it by dusk keeping a steady and strong pace. Rhyn will be tired by the time you get there, but it might be best for him when setting eyes on another dragon for the first time. Pack your things tonight and tomorrow morning you shall depart.”

Viserra nodded her head and got up from the table, quickly turning on her heels and heading back to her rooms. It was all so sudden and it felt as if her head was slightly spinning while trying to take in all of the new information. Once reaching her rooms, the servants opened the doors and let her inside.

“Please draw a bath,” she requested, motioning towards the large built in tile tub that sat in front of the windows.

Viserra turned her focus to packing while waiting for the tub to be filled. It only took her a few minutes to collect the attire and items she wished to bring. As a guest of the King, she assumed she would have dresses and other clothing made there, so she aimed to make her packing light. Trying to remember how different the styles would be in King’s Landing, she realized the weather might also be a bit different. Heat and humidity were heavy in her home lands but she was unsure how different the coastal climate was over there.

The bath drawn was piping hot, something she always cared for no matter the weather outside. One thing she had thought for sure, was hoping it wasn’t too cold of a city where both herself and dragon would be chilled. Though she was reassured that the other dragons had lived there without issue for the last century.

Thinking back to her childhood studies, she tried placing the locations of things around King’s Landing, but it seemed rather unreal and the images in her head were blurry. Closing her eyes, she sank down into the water and stayed there for a peaceful  moment.

After emerging from the water, a servant approached to begin helping her wash her hair. Viserra mentally reminded herself to bring her own oils in case she didn't like the scent of the ones in King's Landing. Giving herself another moment undisturbed, she let last of the heat fade from the water before getting out and drying off.

Before retreating to her bed, Viserra stopped and looked at herself in the mirror. The small scars and new bruises placed all over her body from the most recent fights did not bother her but she softly ran her fingers over the large scar across her abdomen. The ugly mark reached from below her left breast to the top of her right hip and was raised, pink, and still tender. It was the closest she had come to death.

A little over a year ago, she had learned a valuable lesson to never let her guard down. But that night, it was a reminder that she would have to be diligent and smart in her doings once she arrived in King’s Landing. Though she would look similar to the others who shared her blood, she would still be a foreigner when it came down to it. Women were much less respected in Westeros and she knew that her lack of femininity at times might not be welcomed.

In truth, it would help keep propositions for marriage and other undesirable things off of the table. She thought that if her behavior alone did not push any suitors away, these marks would be sure to disgust any of the men who laid eyes on her body.

It did not bother her though, as she never intended to take a husband anyway. With marriage came the topic of producing heirs. She vowed she would die fighting atop her dragon, not in the battlefield of the birthing bed. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she felt content in being summoned to King’s Landing with the sole purpose that her skills and training would finally be utilized.

Despite the uneasiness she had felt about her morning adventure, she initially slept soundly without too much tossing and turning. Her dreams were full of skewed memories from the fighting pits and drinking all of the varieties of wine that each city had to offer. She dreamt of the flight she was to take in the morning, having never flown an entire day atop her dragon. But the innocence of her dreams came to an end when they took a turn into something that stirred an unusual fire within herself.

The final images in dreams were of two men, one standing in front of the famed throne that was built of hundreds of swords and one sitting upon it. She could not make out their faces, but noted they both had silver hair. The one sitting on the throne wore a crown and at the same time, they both seemed to turn in her direction. With caution and curiosity, Viserra tried walking towards them, reaching out and trying to call whomever she was seeing. Her heart started pounding but she realized there was no noise coming from her mouth. With a burst of frustration, she tried to power forward, only to suddenly open her eyes and realize she was sitting up on her bed, safely in her room.

It had been just a dream.

Viserra sat in bed quietly, wondering why this vivid dream seemed so real and why the whole scenario seemed to make her heart jump from her chest. She reasoned with herself that she had always felt called to the lands of the Seven Kingdoms and it probably was her pent up excitement that brought forth the dreams.

Looking out of the window, there was just the slightest evidence that the sun would start to rise soon. Her body felt rested and the anticipation of today was starting to build in her veins. If she wanted to make good timing, she needed to get going.

Prioritizing comfort for the long ride, she donned her riding leathers and a cloak of light fabric. She dressed quickly and braided her long silver hair back into a single, tight braid. She then picked up the sword and dagger sitting by the wardrobe and secured them to her hip.

Slowly she ran through the items she needed in her mind, hoping not to forget anything she would need later. Once satisfied that all had been packed last night, she exited her room and went to the front corridor. The packs that had her clothing items and food were placed by the front doors, her father sitting quietly next to them. Vaelon looked at her and took a slow breath in, handing her a map of her destination.

“The flight is simple Viserra, follow the sun to the east and you will meet land mid day,” he paused then continued in a softer voice, “The only advice I have is to trust no one and do not mind the peoples’ opinion of you.”

With a slight tilt to her head, she questioned him, “Because I am so unbecoming of what their definition of a woman should be?” With that she let out a small chuckle and shook her head. “I know what the standards are for Westrosi women. When have I ever cared about what others have thought of me? A quick pull of my sword will shut the mouths of those who wish to speak ill of my presence.” She looked at her father to give her a reaction, but continued on when he did not. “It will not take long for others to see who I am and to mind what they say around me. I will not change who I am simply because I am the guest of the King. In fact, I believe that it would undermine my value there if I were to cower and conform to their ideals.”

He smiled at his daughter and gave her a short hug before letting her leave out the doors. It took a few minutes' time to walk down to the open area where she could call on her dragon to find her. Like clockwork, the beast screeched and flew in from above within a few moments.

“Rhyn, are you ready for this journey?” She asked, placing her head and hands on Rhyn’s neck, stroking the dragon and making him chirp in response. “We are going to find some other dragons as well, I hope you are ready to finally meet some of your kind. I know I am.”

The dragon rubbed his head against Viserra’s body as if to understand this would be a life changing adventure for them both. The packs were easy to tie onto his saddle once Viserra climbed atop his large body. She readied her leather straps, tying her legs to the saddle, and commanded her dragon to take off. They both took to the sky in a large sweep of air and headed over Pentos’ walls and to the Narrow Sea.

While the hours seemed to pass by quicker than she thought, there was a certain time blindness from only seeing water on each horizon. The winds were blowing in their favor, letting Rhyn glide a considerable amount of the way and conserving his energy. Viserra watched as the sun slowly settled directly overhead, making her sweat underneath her leathers and wishing that maybe she had layered better for the journey.

The sun started to fall east, causing the brightness to be a bit much for both her and the dragon. They weaved in and out of the clouds, hoping to get a respite from the glaring rays. After coming into clear skies once again, she spotted land in the distance, likely the peninsula bordering Blackwater Bay. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing now that she could follow the land inwards and not worry about her dragon being exhausted over the open water. The thought had first crossed her mind that they could stop for a while, but instead she decided to push on in case they did not make it before sundown. She was unsure of how a city housing a King would feel of an unknown dragon flying in after dark. The last thing she would want to do is put them in danger before establishing any allies there in the city.

The sun continued to be annoyingly in her eyes for the last couple hours of the flight. Though the clouds had offered some relief, she still felt like she might be blinded after the whole ordeal. Viserra squinted, thinking that maybe she saw the small outline of a castle and buildings on the next side of land.

Soon enough, they flew in further and her eyes locked in on the Red Keep. At first glance, she was not very impressed. This was where the Seven Kingdoms housed their king? She had expected something not only huge, but extravagant. Maybe she had been expecting a castle that rivaled Dragonstone in its details, which had been described as great beauty in her texts. The city seemed very large in itself, but it also looked crammed and the streets narrow.

She circled her dragon around the big castle set on the hill, trying to find a place to land. There seemed to be only one place that would be big enough for her dragon to safely touch down, and that was right at the front gates. She realized in that moment they would be making a scene with their arrival and smirked to herself at the prospect.

“Here we go, Rhyn. There’s no turning back now,” she smiled.

The dragon started to growl and huff as if to express his uneasiness in landing there. Both of them saw that they had gained the attention of the guards and that a few people surrounding the gates were starting to quickly scatter. Viserra pulled on Rhyn’s reins to land and they hit the ground with a loud thud, dust flying around them while the guards began rushing towards them.

The sudden stink of the city filled her nostrils and she scowled at the change in the air. This was not what she was expecting at all. Viserra stayed atop her dragon while the dust settled, watching as the archers pulled their bows and the grounded guards began to surround them. Rhyn moved around with irritation, sweeping at the guards with his tail.

“I am Viserra Targaryen, I have been summoned by the King and the Hand,” she shouted, looking at the two guards that stood directly in front of them, “I would be happy to barge my way in if needed, but I am hoping that will not be necessary.”

Suddenly, the gates opened and out rushed a tall man with rough brown hair and a neatly cut beard. He was dressed to the standards of royalty, and projected the image that he wasn’t phased by her arriving on her dragon.

“Ah, Lady Viserra!” He exclaimed. His hands held behind his back as he stared directly into her eyes, “It is an honor to have you here in King’s Landing. Welcome to the Red Keep.” He motioned to the guards to stand down, and she watched as they quickly listened.

Viserra did not respond to him, but untied her packs and began to climb down the side of her dragon. Once dismounted, she looked to Rhyn and commanded in Valyrian, “Jikagon, nyke kessa brōzagon ao lo nyke jorrāelagon ao.  Ūndegon mirros naejot ipradagon se rest isse se blēnon.” Go, I shall call you if I need you. Find something to eat and rest in the hills. She then looked back to the man standing before her. “And you are?” She questioned, holding her ground with her hand sitting on the hilt of her sword.

“Otto Hightower. I am the Hand of the King.” He announced with confidence and clarity. “I was the one in correspondence with your father, the one who sent for you. There have been many whispers of you and your dragon over the last few years and it is an honor to have you here with us.”

They kept eye contact, Viserra having an off-putting feeling about the man before her. Something told her that her father may have been directly referring to him when he told her not to trust anyone.

Otto Hightower noted her hesitancy. “We have a large building that has a massive underground pit for our dragons here in King’s Landing. At your convenience, I would be happy to show you where that is and the dragon keepers would help tend to your dragon.”

A pit? She thought to herself,  They keep their dragons underground? The thought was absurd to her, that such large and wild beasts would be kept contained. “That will not be necessary. I have no intention of restraining my dragon as he has never before felt the constraints of chains.”

Otto nodded slowly and turned to walk back into the Keep. Two servants came up beside her, bowing, then taking the packs from her hands. She eyed them before continuing in after the Hand, throwing her hood up and over her head to hide her silver hair. She didn’t want the servants inside starting more whispers before she had surveyed the scene and environment herself. Keeping her hand on her weapon and taking in the courtyard scenery, Viserra slowly started to feel more at ease. The distance to their destination seemed lengthy and there were many steps along the way.

“You must be hungry after your long flight, did you make it in two days or fly the entirety of today?” Otto asked, slowing down to close their distance.

“I left this morning,” she answered shortly.

“I believe you caused quite the commotion around the Keep, as an unfamiliar dragon circling the castle is quite a sight. Would you like to be taken to the guest chambers to wash up before heading to eat?” She could tell that he was implying that she probably smelled of dragon and that the leather tunic and pants were not appropriate attire for a lady to be wearing to supper. 

“No, I shall be fine in my riding clothes. There will be time for a bath later,” she stated with confidence, pulling the hood securely around her face. There was no way this man would get her to conform to their social norms within the first few moments of her arrival. She would arrive armed to meet the King and his family, like any other that had been summoned for similar reasons.

Otto sighed and looked at her up and down. “Very well,” he breathed with obvious disdain for her presentation.

They continued walking for another few minutes before arriving at the doors of what appeared to be a meeting room or smaller dining room. Viserra took a deep breath in and slowly let the air out and suddenly she was feeling a little bit anxious.

The Hand asked the guards to open the large, heavy wooden doors and motioned for her to enter in front of him. With her hood still hiding her hair, she walked into the room and felt suddenly overwhelmed at the amount of people she saw before her.

Notes:

Hi all! I am a few years rusty on writing fanfics, so bear with me as I find my groove again. My preference is to be writing rather than reading and I have finally found the drive to start typing away. I am hoping that this is not too similar to other writings, but I see the number of HotD fics growing daily so I do apologize if it is! I will be taking pieces from both the books and the show, so please don’t come at me for things being too inaccurate.

For those who are solely the show watchers, Saera Targaryen was one of the real daughters of Jaehaerys and Alysanne (King Viserys's grandparents). She did indeed flee to Lys, then Volantis after quite a big scandal in the Keep. She bore three children, all who came to court when Jaehaerys was trying to figure out who would be his heir. The ASOIAF wiki has a good detail on both her and her sister Viserra for those that care. :)

On that note, enjoy! There will be eventual smut in the chapters ahead…don’t you worry. I just enjoy the slow burn in the meantime. Hang in there with me.

[twinflamedfool]

oh I forgot to mention that I was talking about anything to you/ anyway I'll just gladly wait for the second part (ofc there is no pressure, take your time-), and yeah, Thank you again bby, I really loved your writings <3

how sweet! here's a snippet just for you (that is subject to change since i haven't finished it but is likely to stay in the same vein):

“Wife,” Baelon tsks. “Behave.” Viserra swallows back her tears and nods, taking her hand in his own. They walk back outside where the reception is in full swing. Her thighs are sticky and her brother’s cum is slowly dripping out of her, undoubtedly intermingled with her maiden blood. Her dress will cover the mess he’s made, but what about everything else about her appearance? Her smudged mascara and lipstick, her rumpled dress, her frizzy hair?  As it turns out, nobody cares—not in the way she wants them to at least, but perhaps that's for the best. His friends smirk when they see the state of her, and they pat Baelon’s back proudly. She hears hoots and receives many knowing looks, and she hates it. She hates the false pageantry, the false felicitations, the false affection Baelon gives her, and everything else.  This isn’t what she wanted, but it’s what she got. She will have to learn to live with it though because she put all her eggs in one basket. She rests her head on her brother's arm, looking up at him through her lashes as he talks to another man she doesn't know. He may not love her, or even treat her properly, but she is still glad it's him; she wouldn't put up with this behavior if it were anyone else.

[roleplayfinder]

Hello!

I’m looking for a +18 long-term rp partner to do these specific fandoms using OCs or doing CC x OC (with me playing the male OC)!

— HOTD (looking for Aemond, Daemon, Aegon or Rhaenyra to write against my OC Vaelon, you can find him in my blog! I accept male OCs too)

— LOTR (looking for Legolas or Aragorn against my OC or male or nb OC x male or nb OC)

— ARCANE (looking for male or nb OC x male or nb OC or someone to play Viktor against my OC!)

I can offer constant replies and a lot of enthusiasm and I expect my partner to be the same!<3

.

[vivacissimx]

honestly i can’t imagine the te sion that was going on at viserra and baelon’s wedding, with the manderly’s in attendance and baelon being aware of her affair w desmond… ik delena was lowk living for the drama

IF ONLY!!! viserra & baelon's wedding in this universe was a small intimate affair on dragonstone, and the only manderly present was faline SNOW 🖤 however there is a deliciously uncomfortable reunion with desmond and delena that takes place in part two. the vaelon wedding will probably be a one shot in the swallow songs collection at some point

[queenviserra]

Mama nooooooo

Notes/ prompt: Much to Daemon’s disgust he walks in on his (step) mother and father fucking. He knew they were active much to his disgust, having 15 (or more I just like the idea of Vaelon having more kids than their parents did) kids made that pretty obvious but his father was old, he was fifty, he had thought his father was done with fucking his (step) mother.

He never would have imagined that his father would yell at him to get out and continue fucking his (step) mother

(Daemon is traumatised and is going to have nightmares) (Baelon wants his son to leave) (Aegon lives) (Cue MAMA NOOOOOO!!) (Daemon is scarred)

Preview: "Mama? Viserra?"

When he was not given an answer, he decided to act differently.

Not knocking, he tried to open the door that seemed well closed... But it was pretty easy when he used his physical strength by opening it in half.

The bed was empty, thank Gods, as a bunch of horrific scenarios had crossed his mind, but there was a hill of clothes on the floor...

He stared at the opposite spot with his wide eyes later on because he had a great view of where he was.

The Spring Prince and Princess Viserra were at the table where they broke their fast on their own sometimes, in a position that did not look like a common breakfast.

Check out the rest here.

[fernsplaysthings]

A real stupid scribble from back in February that I know I gifted my TTRPG lads with but didn't post here I don't think?

Tobi, Quinn, and Nailah with their representitive parts of the CPRxMiseryxReece's Puffs mash up.