#cw targcest

[hollowwhisperings]

Controversial Song Takes: the idea that ONLY someone with Targaryen blood can bond with a dragon is false.

The whole "you need Targaryen blood" to ride a dragon very much seems to be a deliberate misconception, propagated by House Targaryen after The Doom and believed thereafter both in-world & in-fandom.

"Blood of the Dragon"

It makes sense that those with Targaryen blooded humans can encourage dragon eggs to hatch, sharing a magical kinship through fire & blood. With this ability, Targaryens cement their monopoly on dragons & dragon eggs in Westeros. It is also canon, however, that most dragons hatch/ed independently (the historic & continued existence of dragonsboth before & after Valyria canonizes that Valyrian-bred dragons are not the ONLY dragons: the Age of Heroes featured multiple dragons & dragonslayers, wild dragons fly over Asshai).

The Hiccup Method & Inheritance

Historically, Valyria and House Targaryen had the wealth to spend time breeding, raising, taming, riding, and otherwise commanding dragons. They had pyromancers, blood rites, dragon horns & conquered peoples to refine their methods on in horrific experiments. Targaryens inherited the resources & experience needed to house, feed and outfit dragons (& would-be riders). The living, "tame" dragons of Westeros grew up alongside Targaryens and found them familiar: a stable environment makes for a less cautious predator. Even with all these resources at their disposal, these "tame" dragons still defaulted to hostility and violence.

Evidence against Targaryen Exceptionaliam

During the Targaryen Monarchy, royal dragons would tolerate being ridden by non-Targaryen passengers &, very probably, bonded with persons not-at-all Valyrian: during the Sowing Of The Seeds, wannabe-riders were quick to name themselves "dragonseeds" and the successful ones were likely "given" Targaryen heritage after-the-fact).

It is also the case that even the "purest", most incestuously-bred Targaryen/Velaryon Valyrians have been unable to hatch nor bond to a dragon, even with all the resources available to them: I assume that the Maesters had great incentive to note which Targaryens were & were not dragonriders and so assume that, unless outright stated, the only historic Targaryens who rode dragons are those stated within F&B (give or take a forgotten woman or short-lived child). Thusly, the majority of Targaryens who lived alongside dragons were not dragonriders.

The Dragon Monopoly

Without hatchlings, no other families in Westeros could do their own experiments in dragon-rearing.

The first dragon tamers of Valyria were, allegedly, common shepards: it is almost certain that they employed the Hiccup Method, likely over several generations (domesticating dragons as farmers domesticated dogs and oxen).

Since House Targaryen was the sole surviving family of dragonlord, after The Doom, it is THEIR method of dragon taming that is used in-series. Any other methods died with Valyria, during the Century of Blood, or have been kept/destroyed by the descendants of those conquered & enslaved by the Valyrian Freehold. them… not all Targaryens succeed in becoming riders.

Conclusion

If, however, a person had access to a dragon, was resourceful in approaching it, spent time to let they & the dragon become familiar to each other… the "Hiccup" Method of dragontaming would be effective even without being literally dragon-blooded. The correlation of dragonriders being Targaryen does not mean ONLY someone with Targaryen genes in their family tree can be a dragonrider. There is non-Valyrian fire magic, non-Valyrian dragons (both entirely preceding and far removed from Valyria), and at least 2 forms of magical bonding that could be used as an icebreaker between a human & a dragon.

Future of this Theory

I very much hope that HotD goes with the Hiccup Methodology of dragontamimg rather than GoT's "born special" route: it would complement themes explored in the series & continue the theme of unreliable historiography (& its effects on those guided by such histories). The ASOIAF fandom sorely needs Targaryen Exceptionalism to be critiqued and actively challenged, especially given GRRM's overall message of "war is terrible and everyone suffers for it" being in opposition to House Targaryen's basis in conquest and indiscriminating destruction.

Should GRRM advocate & show that the beliefs of House Targaryen are "beliefs", not "fact", the fandom as a whole would have fresh reason to question the need for "secret Targaryens" and that whole fantasy-eugenics thing. Even the fictional promotion & endoresement of eugenics is harmful: individual fantasy is one thing but collective belief is another. The celebration or normalization of the MEANS used for characters to be "secret Targaryens" are seldom wholesome but the belief of Targaryen Exceptionalism redacts the violence, painting it romantically despite all evidence contrary: the entirety of Fire & Blood, everything we know & can infer on Queen Rhaella, R+L=J, the framing of Craster's Keep and Lannister Twincest versus that used for the Targaryen Family "Phone Pole".

[dreamedfyre-a]

sometimes i think about how helaena would invariably be 🧐 at any bride aemond might have. like she doesn't need to have feelings for him or to be romantically involved with him at all (if they are it's on sight i'm afraid), helaena will scrutinize the poor girls and it won't be easy to pass the vibe check

[dreamedfyre]

by the time helaena is born, targaryen royalty customs are well established. aegon married his two sisters even before he was king, maegor married his niece who had been married to her brother, jaehaerys and alysanne went against everyone else to get married, baelon and alyssa were also siblings, viserys married his cousin, rhaenyra would eventually marry her uncle. but to say incest is normalized in their family is understating it; it's expected, especially post jaehaerys' rule, as he establishes the exceptionalism doctrine.

there is definitely a blood purity element related to holding on to their own power, not mixing to keep it to themselves (not just the throne but the dragons, as grrm recently said in one of his blog posts). but this doesn't have an impact only on targaryens thinking themselves superior; it others them — it puts them in a position of being isolated from the rest of the world. a targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing implies that this is truth because there is no one quite like them; and i think most of them have that so ingrained in them from birth that that's how they feel.

for helaena, that is most definitely true. i don't think she really cares about the blood purity part, but i think she's deeply affected by it nonetheless. she's a targaryen, after all, and that entails she is different even if she doesn't feel she's above. the rules don't apply to them because they're not the same as everyone else, so how can everyone else understand them?

when it comes to romantic relationships, that plays a big part. she most definitely can (and would!) develop romantic feelings for other people, but she'll never feel they can understand her as one of her own might. moreover, she would've been aware from a rather young age that her most likely matches wouldn't be outside the family. it was always going to be aegon or jace or aemond; more unlikely, lucerys or daeron. targaryen princesses aren't given to just anyone. more often than not, they're given to their brothers, in a way that works much like the treatment every other noble woman in westeros receives, except with the blood purity and we're special mentality added to the mix.

she has no reason to question those views. as things happen, this is purely how her world is shaped, and her feelings go against no laws. if she doesn't want to marry aegon, it isn't because he's her brother, it's because she thinks they'll never be happy together because they're not what the other wants.

being siblings first impacts their marriage and their bond, and makes it even more messy and complex given their inability to be husband and wife, but their incompatibility isn't inherent to their blood ties, and helaena wouldn't factor those as a problem at all. in scenarios where she develops feelings for aemond, i generally see it as rather codependent. in many ways he is idealized and forgiven everything and she relies on him heavily. it doesn't mean i think both of these dynamics don't have their moments of tenderness, or even pure sexual attraction. their issues can coexist with softness also existing between them. and to be completely honest, i can't even point to what would be problematic about her and jace other than a possible conflict of loyalties. because in the universe they exist in, them being related isn't an issue for them.

had things been different and all of them lived long enough in a different scenario, this would in turn be how her children were raised. jaehaerys and jaehaera would absolutely be married to each other and they'd be raised to see that as fine and expected and even desirable because that's what their messed up family does.

any fleeting thought about it being wrong that the faith or their hightower family may suggest is quickly dismissed with 'they're the blood of old valyria and the gods made them different'. and to be very honest, house hightower clearly doesn't have an issue with it, given they're the ones who marry helaena to aegon. if you read the books it's noticeable people in universe condemn incest but not the targaryens, because they're seen as closer to gods than men. catelyn thinks it, i'm pretty sure cersei also does, and jaime doesn't understand what makes them special, and in dunk and egg there's a moment where egg casually talks about his sister wanting him to marry her instead of his other sister and dunk is like 'oh that's normal for him' because he's a targaryen. they don't see it the same way as the rest of westeros, and most of the time nothing would prompt them having conflicting feelings on the matter unless they were heavily exposed to outside influence. helaena definitely isn't. her family is pretty much her whole world.

[heretic-child]

still some part of the fandom believe jaime x cersei and targaryen incest are the same. it's kind of embarrassing writing metas on something that you didn't understand at all.

'narcissism, egoism, blood puritism caused destruction of their house' except this is not about house targaryen. not only they pretty much married out of family but the fact that their ending tied to rhaegar targaryen wanting to marry lyanna stark, how this means blood purity is the reason of their destruction?

it's a medieval world with feudal structure, sure every family believe they're more noble than their subjects but all of these concepts specially cover the case with cersei and house lannister.

cersei slept with jaime because she sees him as her male mirror that she couldn't achieve to be. she believes jaime is the only one that deserves to be with her since he is part of herself. she is the definiton of narcissist and even jaime confirms it in his thoughts:

I don't look much like Cersei this way. She'll hate that. (ASOS, Jaime I)

and she inherited/learned it from her father (who also married a lannister). tyrion killed his father because of it and there is a reason cersei has a prophecy says valonqar will be the end of her.

comparing targaryen incest to cersei x jaime is not only completely wrong since canon doesn't support it, it also weakens the themes of the story.

[worthyheir]

[ SHAVE ]: sender sits in the receiver's lap so they can carefully shave the last of the receiver's stubble from their face. / @lvscinvs sent a MEME

The days are almost the same. The monotony grows wearisome, the hours blend together in a stream of endless cacophonies. He is barely aware of how many days have passed until he looks in a mirror, seeing the face that he oft kept clean shaven, preferring to appear as himself, rather than the comparions to the father who had died when he was young, which only occurred by those who remembered Harwin Strong, a face lost to the years for a boy who had not even been seven when the tragedy had occured. It was not like most Targaryens to grow facial hair, not until old age really, a genetic quirk that none really knew the reason for. He preferred to do this himself, rather than have the aid of a servant. To this day, despite the many years of now ruling, he was still self-sufficient. He didn't trust another man with a blade so close to him, not necessarily out of paranoia of assassination, but how pitiful would it be, the King killed with a razor?

He was seated at the table, the mirror before him, half of his face now clean shaven, remnants of the shaving cream still lingering behind. It was the door opening that caused him to pause, eyebrows raising Aemond walked in, tense, irritated. How many years had this been a common occurrence? One of them entering the room, angry and silent? Eventually, he would say whatever it was that had vexed him this day, whether Jace prompted it or not. Of course, he would. "Is there a dead body in the hallway, or a maimed one? That might be hard for me to explain later." He said dryly, returning to the task at hand.

Aemond's derisive exhale is enough to cause Jace to roll his eyes, and his hand to slip. "Damn." He muttered, setting the razor on the table, the nick on his chin small, but noticeable. It had been quite a while since he had cut himself shaving. It isn't until the mirror is blocked, and there's a familiar weight settled on him - when had Aemond even walked up? - razor in hand, that he looked up. This is different, and he is now far more tense than his uncle, who's spare hand has grasped at his throat, tilting Jace's head up more. "If you cut me ---" He's cut off then, the hand on his throat tensing, a warning, the razor making contact with his chin, gliding down with ease.

[king7doms]

@theirmadness / with a side of angst

It was near the end of her pregnancy. She might have a week or two, at most, but her feeling was that it would be this day, or the morrow. She was so tired, felt so heavy in the past few months. Between the babe growing strong inside her, a hopeful prince, as it would only mean to strengthen her claim, though she only hoped one thing: to survive this. She had only watched her mother through endless years of grief, only to lead to her death. She had expressed to Daemon once before, before they had been wed, that it was her fear, to die in childbirth, forced to bring about heirs as her mother had been. She was the heir, but she was also the royal womb. It was a stark sort of irony, especially now that she did have younger brothers to proceed her, should it all come to an end like her mother's.

It's why she seeks him out now, so close to giving birth, finds him sitting at the long table, a drink in his hand, alone. She leans against the table, a hand on her swollen stomach, her free hand brushing his hair off of his forehead. "Drinking alone, at this hour?" She asks, a smile on her face, a tease in her tone. It is late, but she finds it difficult to sleep now that she's so far gone with the pregnancy. "What keeps you awake, at this late hour, valzȳrys?"

[bumblesimagines]

Burning Love

Request: Yes or No

Summary: As the eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has many responsibilities; most of which his darling sister hopes to share with him one day.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Targcest/Incest (Full-blooded Brother-Sister), Aemma lives!! and Alicent is not a childbride, mentions of stillbirths and miscarriages (Aemma's pregnancies)

Collecting HOTD oneshots like pokemon cards at this point

~~~

It was known that Targaryens had... questionable traditions. Traditions those with outsider perspective could only force themself to understand.

There was the act of putting a dragon egg in the cradle of a babe and hoping the egg would hatch sometime soon after to ensure the babe was bonded to a loyal protector they'd grow up alongside of; a tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen, eldest daughter of King Aenys I and Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Targaryens were Dragonriders, bonded with the very beasts they used to conquer the lands and pull them all into one kingdom (with the exception of Dorne, of course). They cremated their dead, a custom from Old Valyria, often with the help of a dragon belonging to their closest kin. 

And of course, the most infamous and often looked down upon custom, wedding kin to kin. Another custom from Old Valyria that many followers of the Seven turned their cheek upon, for they found the act of wedding siblings to siblings and so forth (apart from cousin to cousin) a sin. Faithful followers could voice their complaints as much as they wished, but Targaryens were kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Nobody could or would stop them from keeping their bloodline pure if they so wished. 

Descending from a long, historic, and proud family, Rhaenyra grew up listening and learning the tales of those who'd come before her. Aegon the Conquer and his faithful sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; the many rebellions and fighting brought on during the lives of King Aenys I and King Maegor the Cruel; The Old King Jaehaerys who'd chosen her father, Viserys, as heir over his own late heir's daughter, Rhaenys; and of course, the histories written during the early stages of her father's reign. 

Her beloved older brother had been two when King Jaehaerys named their father heir and three when their father ascended the throne whilst their beautiful mother, Aemma Arryn, carried her in the womb. The fourth person to ever hold little Rhaenyra in their arms had been her brother, closely supervised by their parents and the maester attending the birth, of course. With a healthy son and daughter, Viserys and Aemma hardly needed for more children, but they tried anyway. Their attempts never carried to term, however, and any little ones that did were either stillborn or died mere hours or days after birth. 

Still, Rhaenyra never needed for any more siblings. Her brother was enough, in her humble opinion. He cared for her diligently, especially during their younger years when he eagerly wished to play with her, even if it meant the two of them being gently scolded at the end of the day for dirting Rhaenyra's dresses with mud and dirt. (Y/N) treated her as his equal, even showing her how to use a wooden sword when he began his training and helping prepare her for dragon-riding on Syrax. His own mount hardly needed much training in the Dragonpit, for the mighty Vermithor's first rider had been the Old King.

As time passed, the siblings were forced apart more often than Rhaenyra enjoyed. She'd made up her mind long ago that she and (Y/N) would one day be wed, and she'd be his formidable sister-wife. Their parents merely chuckled about it when she'd first told them at the age of seven, her squeaky voice and flushed cheeks only drawing cooing from Aemma and sweet smiles from Viserys. The absence of her brother had been stark, his time taken up by training, studying, and spending time with the Small Council, but Alicent Hightower had quickly taken his spot as Rhaenyra's companion. 

However, in due time, (Y/N) became man-grown, and while Rhaenyra quickly followed with her flowering, as heir and prince, (Y/N) became the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. It took time for it to become apparent to Rhaenyra but her eyes and ears opened when she heard their parents speaking of it. Many families, highborn and lowborn, offered their daughters through letters or visits to Kings Landing. Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Brackens, Blackwoods, Tullys, and plenty more came forth. Even Otto Hightower made a passing comment about wedding Alicent to him. It was infuriating.

"In truth, I do not understand your irritation, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke gently, her slender fingers working on embroidery. A flower she'd seen in the gardens, or something along those lines. Rhaenyra hadn't truly been paying attention to her dear friend. She'd been too focused on silently fuming at the sight of her brother showing one of the highborn ladies around the Red Keep. Every giggle, every blush, every bat of her eyelashes made Rhaenyra tick. "It's wonderful to watch one's brother fall in love."

"You wouldn't understand, Alicent." Rhaenyra sighed. "It is like the love King Jaeherys and the Good Queen Alysanne had."

Alicent faltered at her words, her head lifting to eye her friend with a small grimace. "You do remember our lessons, correct? King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had to wed in secret, for they knew that not even their mother approved in fear of another uprising from the Faith. Nobody has made a fuss over your parents since they are cousins, but who knows what may happen if you wed (Y/N)."

"(Y/N) is everything King Jaehaerys was, Alicent. He is beloved by the Realm." Rhaenyra reminded her friend with a small smile, pushing herself off the cushioned seats and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. Her earrings swung slightly when she tilted her head slightly to the side, the ends of them brushing against her shoulders. Her eyes tracked (Y/N) as he lifted the lady's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before departing. "He will be a good king, and if I could prove it, I would be a good queen. His queen." Her feet began moving automatically. 

"Rhaenyra," The name tumbled out of Alicent's mouth, her hands fumbling with the items in hand. "Where are you going?"

Bunching up the skirt of her dress in her hands, Rhaenyra grinned over her shoulder and chuckled at the concerned look on Alicent's features that only grew at the sight of her mischievous glint. "To speak with my brother!" 

With a goal in mind, Rhaenyra entered the castle and followed the distant figure of her brother as he cut down hallways with long strides until he reached his bedchambers. Rhaenyra took a moment to herself to catch her breath and rake her fingers through her long silver locks before she approached the doors and nodded for the guards to open them. She stepped inside, a smile appearing across her lips when (Y/N) turned to look at her. 

"My favorite sister," (Y/N) cooed, taking a seat at his desk and unrolling a letter. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in return, clasping her hands together behind her back and taking small steps toward him. He skimmed the contents of the letter, his face giving away nothing of what it spoke of. "Is there something you require, Nyra, or are you suffering from boredom? I have plenty of lords and ladies who'd be happy to keep you busy." 

Rhaenyra scoffed quietly and (Y/N) gave a small grin. "I hear Father is urging you to find a wife."

"The Small Council is urging him to urge me, more like. They believe it is time to begin having children. Seeing as Father and Mother had great difficulty, they wish for me to have an heir by the time I ascend the throne to ensure there won't be issues later on." (Y/N) explained, coiling the letter back up and pulling out a blank paper. He dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Otto has been... more friendly as of recently. He speaks incredibly highly of Lady Alicent." 

"You'd tell me if you were interested in someone, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra reached over the desk to pluck the quill from his fingers, setting it aside and raising her brows at him. (Y/N) slumped back in his seat and laced his fingers over his midsection, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rhaenyra rounded the table and without thinking twice, she plopped down on his thigh. 

"Nyra,"

"You know as well as I do who you should wed, (Y/N). I know what a good queen should be, and I do not care about status or riches like the families of those ladies do. We have the blood of the dragon in our veins. Nobody would truly understand us." Rhaenyra spoke softly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out as she placed her palm over his cheek. His own hands unlaced, one moving to press against her back. 

"The Small Council-"

"Fuck the Small Council." Rhaenyra huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from her brother. "You are the prince, the heir. Whatever it is you choose, they must deal with it. It is their job to counsel, to offer their advice and opinions, not to dictate what you do. We could mount Syrax and Vermithor and fly elsewhere to wed in the customs of Old Valyria." 

A gentle sigh escaped (Y/N), and he leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's shoulder. The princess relaxed at the action, her hand moving past his cheek to the back of his head. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. "You are insufferable." He told her with a gentle laugh before leaning in to press their mouths together. He drew back too quickly for Rhaenyra's liking. "But a good ruler is a patient one, Nyra. If you wish for us to wed, or to lay together-" He brushed their lips together teasingly. "-you must wait. Father and Mother will be easy to convince." 

"Does it matter if we wait?" Rhaenyra tilted her head and batted her lashes coyly, the feigned innocence prompting (Y/N) to roll his eyes. She rose from his lap and dropped her hands to his, tugging on them until he stood up from the chair. She smiled widely, devilishly even, and slung her arms around his shoulders. "We will be wed, regardless. It will not matter." 

"I have things I must do, Nyra." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on her waist. "As I said, you must be patient. If you wish to speed things along, you should speak with Mother. She'll always be the key to winning Father over." He told her and planted a kiss on her temple before settling back down on the chair. 

"Will we be like that someday?" Rhaenyra asked softly, stepping out of the way so he could resume his letter. She toyed with the rings along her fingers, the thought of becoming one of those couples who genuinely cared for each other bringing a smile to herself. It was a desire all ladies had. While sons could marry whichever woman of age they desired, ladies had to hope the husbands their fathers or elder brothers chose were good men. She'd seen far too many times the faces of girls her age married and chained to men old enough to be their grandfathers. 

(Y/N) paused his writing and lifted his head to look at her, offering a reassuring smile. "Someday." He nodded. 

"I look forward to it, then."

[just-some-random-blogger]

The Cage Of My Rib

"Aegon?" "Mmm." "They say twins come from a split rib... do you think it is true?" "Pfft, no. If it were, I'd be short and ugly like you!"

Aegon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Aemond Targaryen | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest, twin!reader, wife!reader, pregnancy, motherhood, post-rook's rest, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a fic I wrote for my lovely luna. im going to be completely honest with you. i had a vision then i didnt... i dont know if this has a happy ending im so sorry T_T HAHAHAHAHA @vhagar-balerion-meraxes I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

His skin was scalding as he stormed into the dragon pit. His nostrils flared at the sight of the dragon about to exit and take flight. He clenches his fists, "keligon."

My mount rumbles at the sound of the command. I, at first, do not realize the command was given and pat my dragon's skin, encouraging her to continue.

"KELIGON!"

Both my dragon and I turn, seeing Aemond march towards us with a face painted in fury. He screams again, "STOP!"

I furrow my brows and hush my ride when she grows restless. She screeches at Aemond to show her displeasure, and so in turn, I have to calm her down as my he approaches. I pull on my reins and scowl at him. I quip in High Valyrian, "you dare command Rhovior while I am mounted?"

Aemond looks up at me, pulse raging in anger. He screams again at her, commanding my dragon to obey him with such severity that she forgets her own predatory inclination and submits. Rhovior then cranes her long neck to the side and looks up at me. Her violet eyes reflect my own and I rub her pinkish scales before turning back to the man.

"Get down," he commands me in High Valyrian, reaching a hand out to me.

I clench my jaw and tilt my head at him, "I do not wish to."

His nostrils flare, "you truly think it wise to fly on dragonback in the middle of a war?"

"I am not flying into war, brother."

"You are not flying anywhere," he snaps, "wife."

Rhovior was getting restless again. She begins to shake her head and shift towards Aemond. I have to calm her down, lest the one-eyed prince be left one-armed or worse. He at least has the mind to step away from her at this point, his hands coming to his side.

Aemond clenches his jaw as I calm Rhovior. I grunt when part of the saddle digs into my belly. My husband flinches, boot skidding forward on instinct. He hisses in the High Valyrian once more, "you are in no state to be flying."

I make sure my ride is completely calm before finally dismounting. Once I do, Aemond comes upon me, glaring down with a furious eye.

"I am her rider," I repeat in the same tongue, "she would not cause me harm."

"She does not need to cause you harm for harm to come to our child."

I step forward. My protruded belly barely brushes against him, "she would not harm my child."

"Our child," he corrects, "I have as much say on what happens to the babe as you do."

I sigh and close my eyes. I hear Aemond command the dragon keepers to bring Rhovior back into the pit. I rub my belly and ignore my husband, walking past him.

"Do you think you would be spared simply because you are a woman with child? Rhaenyra will spare none in King's Landing to have her way."

I remove my gloves while he follows after me. I respond by the time I feel him beside me, "as I said, I was not flying into w-"

"Flying at all is an act of war," he grabs my arm, forcing me to face him, "you are my wife."

I whip my head, pulling my arm out of his clutch, my silver hair flipping behind me.

"You carry my seed."

"Trust me, Prince Regent, I know what I carry inside me better than you."

Aemond's jaw sets. The muscles on his face feather. I can practically feel the anger radiating off him. My stomach begins to churn. I look down and sigh. I step forward and grab his bicep. I can feel his muscles are tense. I whisper, "I would not have flown far."

He does not reply.

I look up at him. His face is bound in anger. I reach for his cheek, but he pulls away and steps back before I touch him.

I gulp. I allow my hands to drop.

His silence held the violence of a storm, and his stoic expression held something searing beneath it. His voice held a false serenity as he whispered, "you'll have to kill me before you forfeit so much to a dead man walking."

I stare at him. I do not argue with his distasteful comment nor do I correct his belief that I meant to fly out to do something for the said man.

I simply walk away after he's said his piece and head for my chambers.

I change out of my riding clothes and go to the nursery. I dismiss the wet nurse and tell her I will continue breast feeding my son.

I immediately take my child onto my hip and rub his back as I make my way down the hall. Aenar sighs into my shoulder, his soft cheek pressed against my neck. I make it to the King's quarters and nod at the Kingsguard stationed outside his room as he opens the doors for me.

I stop just as I enter; the sight and the smell never gets easier to palate. I shift my boy in my arm when he begins to fuss. A mewl from across the room makes my heart twinge.

I walk towards the bed, the sound of my heels on the tiles reverberate in the otherwise silent chamber. By the time I sit down on the chair beside the bed, Aenar is restless, and so I undo the ribbons on my chest and allow my baby to feed.

I stroke my son's head, rocking him in my arms slightly, but my eyes are on the man before me and his are on mine. Aegon's lilac gaze is watery. His lips are dry as he speaks, "you shouldn't be here."

I adjust my son in my arms so his weight doesn't put so much pressure on my belly. I rub the boy's bald head, "and where should I be, my king?"

He scoffs but regrets it when he breaks into a ragged cough. I huff when it doesn't seem to stop and reach for the glass of water on his bedside table. I manage to keep a firm grip on son as I help him drink. Liquid spills from the corner of his lips and soon he shakes his head, making me pull away.

"There is no king here."

I simply wipe his skin, careful not to irritate him. Aegon watches me, or rather, he watches Aenar. I freeze when he grabs my wrist weakly before I pull away.

His voice is soft and strangled, "you misunderstand."

He releases his hold. I put the cloth down.

"I don't want you here."

We stare at each other. I am unfazed because I knew he did not mean it. I adjust Aenar in my arms. He stops suckling after this, and so I move him to my other shoulder and lace up the ties on my chest. I rub his back and gently pat him, "shall I move to the other side of the bed then?"

Aegon does not reply.

Aenar burps softly. I lean into him and kiss his head, "good boy."

His eyes water. He screws them shut, "do not insult me further-" his nostrils flare, "-and fucking leave."

My brows knit, "I've not yet helped you ea-"

"I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" he snaps, spit flying out his mouth as he screams.

I jolt at the severity of his tone. Aemond, even with his display prior, was never one to shout at me, not even as a child. Aegon, however, always did. It did not make it any bearable. Aenar too was affected by the shout. He promptly begins to sob.

I immediately begin to rock him and shush him. When he does calm, I cradle him in my arms and sing to him. It was my favorite High Valyrian lullaby, one that our father sung to us in but a few instances or less.

Aegon's face twitches at the sound. The act causes his tender injuries to flair. Tears stream down his face.

It takes two repetitions of the song for my baby finally find peace again. By the time he does, I feel out of breath. I sit back down but do not stop rocking him. Aenar coos and I do not dare to cease my singing.

That is, until, Aegon calls my name.

Not only do I stop singing, I stop moving altogether.

His eyes are closed and his voice is shaky, "your being swells with life while mine wastes away."

"No, you get better everyda-"

"I am a dead man walking," he chuckles dryly, "I cannot even walk-"

"And did Aemond tell you this?"

His eyes slowly open. A tear drips into his mouth, "I know what I carry inside me better than he."

Aenar begins to fuss again, and so I bring him to my shoulder and pat his back.

Our silence is broken by the sound of my brother and I saying each other's names at once. I pull my chair close to him. He slowly shakes his head in disagreement, screwing his eyes shut.

"I am here," I tell him.

He chuckles, "I pray you were not."

"I will always be here, Aegon. Your woes are mine and my joy is yours."

He slowly opens his eyes. He sniffles and mumbles, "you are not my wife."

"I am your twin-"

"I am glad of it," he reaches out a hand. I perk and lean in, knowing exactly what he wanted instinctively. I maneuver Aenar until he was laid back in my arms. Aegon's curled hand comes to my son's leg. His breathing is heavy, "he would have been Jaehaerys."

I clench my jaw and place my hand atop his.

He huffs slowly through his mouth, "I cannot feel you anymore."

I rub his burnt hand, "perhaps not in flesh, but always in heart."

Aegon slowly pulls his hand away.

"I wanted to pick you flowers, but Aemond did not let me."

"I would not have either if I were him."

"But you are not."

"I wish sometimes I was," he looks away, "how content I would have been to be born the second son... to have you."

"You have me."

He chuckles, mumbling under his breath, "do not tell him that. My injuries are suffice."

I cradle Aenar as he snuggles into my breast.

"Do you remember what you asked me when we were children?"

I nod, immediately knowing what he meant, "if twins are split from the rib?"

He hums, "if we were, I am glad that you are rid of me."

"I am glad we are not joined at the rib, but I do not wish to be rid of you."

He mumbles my name. No one but himself hears.

I adjust my baby's collar, "I should put him down. I will return before your supper is served."

He does not reply. I give him one last look before heading back.

I enter the nursery. I stop in my tracks when I see the figure looming over the cot. Aemond turns over his shoulder. I blink at the sight of his distraught expression before walking over to him.

I stop beside him, debating where I should place my son. I decide to hand him to Aemond, who graciously takes him into his arms. Aenar mewls before settling against him. A line forms between Aemond's brows as he gazes at the boy. He mutters, "how is he?"

His words hold double meaning and yet I could feel like it was a trick, to see if I would talk about Aegon.

I step closer, gazing at the infant who was blissfully unware of all that was around him. I stroke his cheek with my finger, "he is tired," I pull away, "not unlike his father."

Aemond turns to me as I rub my belly. He clenches his jaw but says nothing.

I cautiously reach out for his cheek. He does not pull away from me this time, "I will return to join you for supper."

I wait for him to respond. I walk out when he does not. He watches as the door close. He turns away after the click.

"Keligon, muña," Aemond mutters as though it was his son speaking. He then shushes him, "muña kessa daor henujagon īlva..."

Mother will not leave us.

"... my son."

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon

Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair

>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come

>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby

>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon

>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard

>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago

>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace

>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe

>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it

>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen

>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon

>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful

>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter

>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth

>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard

>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned

>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father

>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation

>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk

>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"

>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you

>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill

>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk

>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently

>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you

>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you

>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne

>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother

>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting

>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto

>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you

>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers

>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you

>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively

>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor

>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs

>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother

>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him

>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed

>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you

[king7doms]

He looks exhausted. The ravens have been unanswered - she was not truly aware that he had taken Harrenhal until Lord Simon Strong had sent a raven of his own, giving her word that Daemon had taken the castle, with no resistance. Any ravens sent, bearing her messages or those of her council, had not returned. She does chuckle a bit at that. Harrenhal might be the largest castle that they could hope to hold, and it's placement ideal for housing an army marching towards King's Landing, but she would not want to visit there. The castle marred and burned by their ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. The tales of it's hauntings and deaths were well known throughout the realm. She takes the cup, taking a drink, before looking at him once more. "Don't tell me my husband has come to believe in the hauntings of Harrenhal." The mood was dark - her life had been threatened, but he had returned, their argument, for now, forgotten. He might not have much time here before he had to return to Harrenhal, to the war. They might have a night or two, enough time to convene the council with any updates he had, and then he would have to depart. Moments like this, where they are alone together, relaxed, despite the levity of the situation that did reunite them, are rare enough, especially since the loss of Visenya, the loss of Luke. "Yes, I hear that the Riverlands have always been quite damp." She responded, a soft smile on her face, a hint of it in her tone. The war could wait until the dawn broke, her thought as it was close to doing so. She took another drink of the wine.

"You look as if you have not slept since you left here." Left me. She does not say that out loud before looking over at him. That had been the plan, before the argument, for him to go to Harrenhal and raise the army in her name. "Is it really that bad?"

his family is unhurt, this time around, but the threat remains. he is all too aware women and children are oft the casuelties of war. daemon nodded in acknowledgement to ser erryk; he had been a good man, a good knight. loyal, to the end. ❝ ser erryk did his duty. ❞ the queen's life mattered more than his own. at her question, he pulls back so he can look into her eyes. she looks as if she hasn't been sleeping much.

daemon suffers from the same affliction. he stands up, unbuckling his sword belt from around his waist. he walks towards a table so he can place it there, a tired sigh escaping his lips. he rubs a palm over his face. he feels the effects of ageing, creeping up on him. war is a young man's game. and so is quarrelling with your wife. ❝ for tonight, and perhaps another day. truth be told, i would be glad to see the last of that cursed place. harrenhal is a damp ruin. haunted, if you would believe what some of the men say. ❞ he doesn't; obviously.

he walks over to the drink's table, pouring them both some wine. he takes a rather large sip before he walks over to hand her the other cup. ❝ house strong has no coin to host the riverlords and their men. ❞ taking his place by her side, he wraps one arm around her, pulling her closer to himself. he breathes her in, nose buried in her hair, before placing a lingering kiss on the crown of her head. ❝ wish that i could stay here. i cannot sleep in that wet place. have the riverlands always been so bloody wet? ❞ he allows himself a smile.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: king!aegon ii targaryen x afab rhaenyra’s child!reader

cw: CANON TYPICAL incest/targcest, boot worship, free use, public, voyeurism/exhibitionism (non con on the guards part 💀), hints of reader being just as much of a weirdo i’m sorry (rhaenyra can’t blame them tho), used a valyrian translator so if there’s any mistakes no there’s not <3, fucking on the iron throne as a celebratory end of work day thing, everything is 100% consensual on reader’s part, one use of “whore”, aegon’s pet names are all food related 🥴 (deadass almost had him call reader beer for the joke)

wc: 888 (🎱✨)

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

last hotd fic for a bit bc i’m out of ideas

kinktober masterlist

“Ry paktot, ilagon ao jikagon, jorrāelagon (all right, down you go love).”

You and your uncle Aegon have the strangest end of day ritual. It always starts with you being shoved on your knees, his hands cradling your shoulders to protect you from the sharp iron throne.

All others are sent away from the room, save for a few guards that had been eyeing your body far too much for his liking. You were yet to be married but numerous whispers of your sexual exploits ran through the castle like wildfire. Aegon II Targaryen, was a king that one could not even sneeze in front of for fear of setting him off. So he is careful to keep those shrews' musings away from you, it was a feat of strength to coerce you into being as bold as you are now.

“Come now, elilla (honey). Clean my shoes so i can give your cunt the fucking it deserves.” He orders you, and you are all too eager, especially with the eyes of the uncomfortable guards on you.

You pray to the Gods that Aegon does not catch them looking with their peripheral vision, pausing your fun to murder more of the staff would really rain on your parade.

The shoes of your king are cleaned before you put your tongue to them, something that you’re almost disappointed by at this point. You are tempted to ask him to turn away the shoe shiner for next time.

His crown has the same red haze surrounding it that lives deep within Aegon, and it commands your attention all the same. You let your eyes softly fall shut as you run your wet tongue along the edge of his boot. The metallic tang has become an old friend, as well as any paltry specs of blood you find. You fear that you could possibly develop a craving for it.

You prostrate yourself before your betrothed as if you were a humming bird that had come face to face with Balerion himself. A house kitten mewling for the attention of a tiger. It is not unlike performing a blow job. Your lashes become the sheer curtains you look out of and your mouth fulfills its purpose.

You flatten your tongue and begin to dip into the crevices, getting every inch of his shoes slick with your spit. Aegon has his weeping cock in the firm hold of both of his hands, and he times his strokes to every flick of your tongue.

Your “services” last for what feels like an eternity. Your uncle’s eyes wander to keep the forcibly voyeuristic guards in check. You can hear their feet shuffling on the ground as they squirm behind you, and Aegon is so pleased by this that he returns his attention to his beloved pet.

“Prūbres (apple), that is quite enough. Come back up, darling.” He says while gingerly rubbing the heel of his boot into your cheek.

“Yes, qȳbor (uncle).”

You clamor into his lap, taking the initiative by lifting your previously stretched hole over his cock. One of his hands claws into the flesh of your hip to steady you, and the other positions his cock upright. Once you get past the pink tip, your walls are snugly wrapped around his entire length in seconds. You both groan as he bottoms out. Aegon wastes no time and digs his nails into your other hip, lifting you off of his cock until the tip catches against your entrance and swiftly dropping you back down.

“My whore, a jewel worth more than any found in my crown.” The word comes out between gritted teeth, but the thumb drawing loose circles on your pearl is kinder. “Not one of those filthy dogs will ever know the pleasure of a cunny as sweet as the one made for me.”

“They will not.” You whined, relishing in the red marks his nails were no doubt leaving on your jiggling ass as you bounced on his girthy cock. “Only you, qȳbor (uncle), only my king. They could hang for all I care.”

You have an awful habit for letting words flow from your mouth with no thought of their consequences. It’s not your fault though, you muse as Aegon scratches at your moving globes of flesh, your cunt takes priority more often than not. You ignore the spark that ignites in his soul at the foolish declaration.

His thumb stops teasing your clit and rubs it harshly up and down until your rapid bouncing ceases in favor of chasing that high. He only has to spank you a single time for you to shatter around his cock with an angelic and blissfully soft moan. You let your torso fall to his and you bury your face in his neck as his other hand travels to grope your other ass cheek.

Aegon spills into you with an embarrassingly long and loud groan, licking at the pulse point of your neck as he fucks himself into overstimulation. This is the only time he will allow the guards to drink your sex in, so they can gawk at the pure amount of spend that leaks out of your ravaged cunny. He pretends not to notice or enjoy the stares, spreading your fat cheeks to give them a better view.

“Leave us be.”

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. X

cw: disordered eating (but not intentional ED), mention of not canon targcest? (not Daenys she doesn't fw that)

tags: @beebeechaos @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @thelastemzy @fall-winter-heart97 @pedro-pascal-love @thatkindofgurl @theadharablack @reyndaisy @littleblackcatinwonderland @hueanhdang @purple-1995

As Daenys expected, she was summoned to the Painted Table in the morning. Dressed in a fine dark purple dress, she stood in her place next to Jacaerys, Rhaena, and Baela. She was secretly pleased to see Daemon's bruised face seated next to Rhaenyra.

Maester Geradys, who had been the first to recieve the raven, spoke. "It is yet unclear how the Keep itself was breached. The boy's head was severed from his body. Thousands witnessed the procession."

Rhaenyra looked stunned at the news, agasp at the accusation and murder itself. "And they are accusing me of having a hand in this?"

"It appears so." He replied solemnly. "There have been messages sent of that affect...throughout the realm."

His words rung uncomfortably, a foreboding warning that the tides may shift in favor of the Greens when people were told Rhaenyra ordered a child to be killed.

She nodded firmly, "we must send our own messages, denying this vile accusation." She paced around the front of the table slightly, wringing her hands.

The Maester nodded. "I will do so at once. But, I'm not sure they will be recieved in good faith."

"And we must double our guard. Here and in Driftmark." The Queen insisted, finally sitting to stop herself from appearing anxious. "There will be swift retribution in one form or another–"

"I have seen to it, Your Grace." Lord Baltimos interrupted. Daenys glared at him, almost reprimanding him for his disrespect. It seemed to be a common thing around the Council. Many of the lords were old and believed themselves more experienced and knowing in war than Rhaenyra, though none had seen war themselves.

Especially Ser Alfred Broome, who sat himself at the edge furthest from The Queen. He was an advisor for Arms to Rhaenyra, yet he thought himself most important and all-knowing.

Jacaerys spoke up, "Let me fly out on Vermax. Rhaenys is needed in the Gullet and I can watch for movements from King's Landing." He offered.

"No." Rhaenyra denied immediately.

Jace shifted on his feet, clearly irritated at the rejection of offered use. He was eager to help, to make himself useful for his mother's cause. Daenys understood both sides, knowing Rhaenyra would be overly cautious when it came to her remaining children's lives.

"It must be said that the damage to our position is immeasurable. At a time when we most need loyalty to our cause." Baltimos spoke up again, his own irritation leaking into his tone as if he were scolding the Queen.

She scoffed a disbelieving laugh, "but it is a lie."

"Having lost my own son, that I would inflict such a thing on Helena of all people?" Her council stood silent, avoiding her gaze. Eyes shifted between her and Daemon. All knew her genteel nature, and all also knew of his reckless one.

Alfred Broome spoke up from his spot at the end of the table. "The death of Prince Lucerys was a shock and an insult. A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution." He boldly stated, causing Rhaenyra to push up from her seat offendedly.

"Are you suggesting, Ser Alfred, that my grief drove me to order the decapitation of a child?" Her mother looked much like a dragon, then, with bared teeth and a predatory look in her purple eyes.

"I merely thought, perhaps, an action taken in haste." He cleared, though he did not look apologetic. Jace clutched the pommel of his sword tightly, mirroring Daenys' dislike for the older man.

"Mind yourself." Princess Rhaenys spoke up from her seat beside Ser Alfred.

Rhaenyra settled into her own seat, after glaring Ser Alfred down into his own. Rhaenyra's own gaze landed on her husband, a realization settled on her features. Fury gleamed in her eyes.

The council was soon dismissed. Jacaerys and Baela went off together to do their own things. Rhaena left with her grandmother after bidding Daenys a farewell. Daenys found herself simply waiting for Rhaenyra to finish her talk with Daemon before they could finally have their own conversation.

🗡

Cregan leaned back in the uncomfortable steel chair, cursing his decision to use the Maester's chair instead of bringing the stationary supplies to his temporary chambers at Castle Black. He decided to stay there for a few days, should any ravens be sent to him from the Queen or Daenys.

He had already finished drafting his many letters to his sworn houses in the North. He summonded his 2,000 greybeards from the places he knew housed the most of them and carefully decided which of the younger men he should send out to war. He divided the numbers up immediately after Daenys left the castle, wanting to send them marching as soon as they received word. The walk from the North to the southern allied houses was great, and the more time they had, the better. Taking all those men over The Twins was already a headache. Cregan still needed to decide if he should lead this march or await Daenys in Winterfell.

He decided to send his men straight to the Riverlands to station themselves until word came from Rhaenyra on which battles to fight or which holds to defend. He assumed that Harrenhall would be easily taken by the Blacks, and the lands surrounding it would be a good vantage for his men to set up such large camps. Harrenhall, though, lied dangerously close to the crownlands, which would be swiftly conquered one by one by the Greens, if they hadn't already sworn allegence. North of Harrenhall might be better, closer to the Tullys or Freys. He needed to know their allegences quickly. He started to write another draft to the Queen, asking for a list of her sworn houses. He ignored the crick in his back that was forming due to the chair.

Up in the tower, the ravens were able to be sent at once after he finished writing and sealing them. He informed the queen to send all future ravens immediately to Winterfell. He would be leaving after all of his tasks were done at The Wall.

After sealing the scroll, he attached it to the foot of a raven, who squaked at him as if annoyed before flying out of the open sil. Another raven landed in his place, a sealed green Targaryen symbol on it. He sighed, rubbing his forehead at the sight.

Cregan's heart dropped to his stomach at the contents. Jaehaerys was murdered in his bed, supposedly by 'Rhaenyra the Cruel', who ordered it. He knew it was a false accusation. Daenys had dreamt of it only the night before she left. A man was responsible, if Helena's words were anything to go off of, not the Queen. He silently prayed for the peace of the mother and hoped the boy did not suffer too much.

He threw out the letter, knowing his oaths would forever be tied to the Blacks, whether in matrimony or in pure honor.

Cregan had sent out all the letters he needed to, packing up his bag in his quarters. Dusk was a missing presence, having been sent ahead to Winterfell by Cregan. Perhaps, he thought, he could send his direwolf in his place at the march, being able to see through Dusk's eyes at any time he pleased while diplomatically leading from Winterfell. There, he could wait for Daenys to come back to him. He found himself missing her presence already, feeling a gap in his soul from her departure.

Lord Stark left Castle Black on Red, Mylo trailing behind him ever so faithfully. In the back of his mind, Cregan thought of the white steed making a good wedding gift for Daenys, who had taken quite well to him.

🗡

Daenys passed Daemon in the hall on her way towards her mother's chambers, Baela at her side. He looked feral, a pissed off look on his face as he passed his daughters. He ignored Baela's call for him, striding past them both without a glance.

One less dragon for Dragonstone was all Daenys had to think about it. She knew he was on his way to Harrenhall after the scolding Rhaenyra gave him, he'd been impatient to go ever since the damned war started.

Baela and Daenys entered the chambers, following Ser Erryk. They curtsied politely together, the Queen first addressing her stepdaughter. "When morning comes, take Moondancer, and keep a watch on King's Landing. I must know which course they take next." Stress was clear on her face, likely because of Daemon's antics.

"I will be vigilant." Baela replied firmly, glad to be given a task by Rhaenyra. She'd been as impaitient for one as her betrothed.

"I depend on you, Baela. Stay high, and keep your distance. We can afford no further mistakes."

A pang of jealousy ripped its way into Daenys heart against her better judgment. Of course, Baela was a skilled rider and a fiecely loyal Lady to Rhaenyra. Daenys knew that. She also knew of her mother's hesitation to get her children into further mishaps, but she couldn't help but feel untrusted and useless. She was not the weak little girl that everyone seemed to think she was. Perhaps—in personality—she had always been quiet and non-confronting. But she was still a dragonrider like her kin. Daenys was inherently useful with Morningstar at her command. If only Daemon and Rhaenyra would see that.

"My father?" Baela brought up hesitantly.

Rhaenyra sighed, "he must follow his own path." The vague words hardly help sooth Baela's fears, but all in the room knew of his headstrong behavior.

Baela bowed and left. Daenys nodded to Swe Erryk, dismissing him behind Baela to speak alone with The Queen.

She sat herself down in front of Rhaenyra, picking at her nails.

Rhaenyra waited, used to her long pauses for thinking over her words carefully.

"There was a fire." She started. "I cannot say anything more, except that it was Morningstar's."

"A fire?" Rhaenyra asked, only more confused by her elaboration.

"It burned me. Well, my clothes. It totally engulfed me, for however long it took for the clothes to turn to ash. For that whole time, I simply laid there, on the ground, thinking I was dead. I felt no pain, got no burns, and obviously am still alive." She gestured to herself. "I know for certain that I had not read about anyone on our bloodline being immune to dragonfire, or fire in general speaking.

Rhaenyra leaned back, hand rubbing over her mouth in a thoughtful gesture. "You did not feel it, at all?" Daenys was grateful that she believed her so quickly. She was not known for being a liar, after all.

"None."

"I have not read such things, either." She stood, bringing Daenys to the lit hearth. With a firepoker, the mother carefully brought out a smoking piece of wood. Catching on fast, Daenys gingerly moved to touch it, jumping back when it seared her fingertips. Cursing, Daenys placed her fingers in the water basin that Rhaenyra kept in her room.

Rhaenyra hummed. "What was the situation."

"Mother, I can not tell you that. You would not see me the same way." Daenys pleaded, clutching her throbbing fingers to her chest and shaking them slightly. The pain was short-lived, fortunate.

"Did you...order Morningstar to burn you?" Like Laena, was left out.

"Not in the way that you are thinking. I will always return home to you, mother. I did not wish to die, only knew in the situation that I had to make my choice." Daenys told her. She grabbed her mother by the wrist, suddenly invigorated. "Let's try it with Morningstar's fire." She said, guiding her mother to the dragonpits.

Rhaenyra haplessly followed, thoughts jumbled. Morningstar was in the shallow part of the cave, near the perch. Her breakfast was currently being served by the Keepers. "Dracarys!" One commanded, a brilliant blue light filling the cave.

"Morningstar, do not eat!" She commanded

Reluctantly, the beast obeyed. Daenys climbed down the steps, Rhaenyra close on her tail. Slowly, she approached the burning sheep, waving her hand over it. When she did not feel the searing heat, she placed her hand on the sheep's flaming cost. She looked back to Rhaenyra, who's eyes were wide in awe. Even Morningstar tilted her head curiously, but was more concerned about finally getting to eat without hunting her own food.

After Rhaenyra and Daenys left, back to the chambers, they sat in silence for a moment to take the information in. "I cannot tell you why this has happened. Perhaps it is your bond–Morningstar is a unique dragon already with her blue flames–or perhaps it has something to do with your connection to Old Valyria and its magic."

"Magic?" Daenys asked.

"Your dreams. Of course, there is no studies behind them so there is no explanation. The closest one I can give you is the Blood Magic of Old Valyria, which was rumored to be used by dragonriding families. Perhaps that is what gave your ancestor Daenys her gift, too."

"I'd hardly call it a gift. I am wrong, sometimes. I can not trust my mind to tell me the truth. Not after father." She sighed, slumling into her seat.

Rhaenyra sat up straight in her own, an odd look in her eyes. "Have you been wrong again?" She asked tentatively.

"Not in the important matters. I saw...Luke. That night, being chased by an unidentified dragon. Then, days later I saw you, wanding the beaches of the stormlands to find remains of him." She shook her head. "I thought they were tricks. That Lord Borros would never let such a thing happen under his roof. I was wrong."

"I also saw Jaehaerys. I tried to stop Daemon, but he gave the order before I could stop him." She confessed, feeling guilty for not being able to stop what that time she truly believed.

Rhaenyra was quite for a few minutes after, the guilty look now apparent on her features.

"Mother?" Daenys asked quietly.

"My sweet girl, your dreams have never lied to you." She said, confusing Daenys.

"How do you know?–"

"Laenor's death is the only one that you could not forsee."

Daenys furrowed her brows, bemused at her mother's words. When she only kept her gaze on the wall behind Daenys instead of looking her daughter in the eye, Daenys felt her heart drop. "Father...did not die in the fire?" She whispered.

Rhaenyra's silence was deafening.

"You have lied to me for nine years? Almost a decade?" Daenys asked, voice calm and steady. She felt rage rising in her chest, this time not caring.

Rhaenyra placed her hand over her stomach soothingly, watching Daenys stand up, chair falling to its back behind her.

"Does this have anything to do with your and Daemon's timely wedding? Did you two force Laenor to leave us all so you could finally have your uncle all to yourself?!" She shouted, pacing in front of the table.

"Laenor left on his own accord. We did not force him. He lives his life peacefully in his own corner of the world, unknown to even myself and Daemon."

Daenys stilled, disbelieving her mother's confession. "He left us? He left me?"

Rhaenyra nodded, twisting the ring on her hand. "He loved you more than anything, sweet girl."

"Would you leave us?"

"Of course not!" Rhaenyra insisted, offended at the very thought.

"Then why would our father? Because we are not truly his? Did he ever see us as his own?" She panted out, tears falling from her cheeks onto the stone floor. "It is not our fault we are bastards!" She shouted, tugging wroughtly at her loose hair.

"Daenys," Rhaenyra stood, moving to comfort her daughter. She was pushed away swiftly, Daenys running out of her chambers, past Ser Erryk waiting outside of them.

She spent the rest of the day in her chambers, buried under Cregan's pelt cloak. She wished to escape, even temporarily. She wished she could be back with him. Cregan wouldn't lie to her. He wouldn't convince her that she was insane for half of her life. She couldn't trust anyone, apparently. Not even her mother, who was supposed to look out for her.

Or her father, who left her to be with his forbidden lover.

Daenys didn't know if she hated him or herself for his leaving. Or her mother. It was not Daenys' fault that Laenor wasn't her father, though she desperately wished him to be.

A maid knocked at her door around supper time, entering without word from Daenys. "The Queen has sent me. She recieved word from the kitchens that your plates have gone untouched since you arrived."

She wasn't aware that there had been plates in her room, nor was she aware of how many days had passed since she arrived. "Put it on the table." She mumbled from beneath the fur.

Franny, her usual maid that had been helping Daenys every day since she first moved to dragonstone, shook her head. "The Queen has instructed me to watch you eat, and to finish the plate."

"I instruct you to leave it at the table." Daenys firmly said, lifting her head from the cover.

Franny shook her head again, planting herself firmly by the door. "Queen's orders, Princess. We are all worried about you."

"You can worry about me from outside." Daenys said, throwing her head back onto the pillow. She willed herself to ignore Franny's stares. The door opened, Franny whispering to someone outside of it, then Daenys yelped as the pelt was ripped off of her. "Hey!" she shouted, sitting up and meeting whoever had disrespected their Princess to brazenly.

It was Jacaerys and Beala, both matching in their pitiful stares. Jacaerys guided her up from her bed, plopping his sister down on her seat and sitting in front of her. Baela stood by the door, detering her from leaving. She felt sick. What was the point of this? She would eat when she felt hungry, but she had not felt hungry since her last night with Cregan.

"Jace." She hissed out, "get out. I'm tired and I wish to sleep. I will break my fast with all of you on the morrow."

"We're not leaving until that plate is clean." He said, relaxing into his chair.

She was reminded of her time at the Red Keep, where feasts where held in the grand hall, and Daenys sat with her siblings at the high table with all the other royal blood. All she could feel was the stares of hundreds of people, whispering about her and her family. The way they walked, talked, ate.

She learned that if you don't give them anything to judge you for, then they grow bored of you. She took to eating in her chambers, avoiding walking in crowded areas, did not speak with strangers, and made sure that she did not scream in her sleep.

All perfectly cultivated. Daenys had only eaten with Cregan because she had grown so comfortable with him. He never stared while she ate, never had that judgmental stare. Jacaerys and Baela did. Franny did. She felt like curling up and disappearing again. She felt like she was in King's Landing again. "Don't force me to, Jace." She pleaded. He faltered a second, sympathy replacing the hard look in his eye, before he shook his head.

They sat there for almost an hour, simply in silence. Daenys crossed her arms, refusing to even look at the other's. "Sister, if this continues I will have to force—" Jacaerys was cut off by a maid screaming in the halls.

They all jumped to see the threat, Jace drawing his sword. On the steps of the dining hall, Ser Alfred Broome lie dead, skull bashed into the stone stairs. "There's an intruder in the castle!" Jacaerys declaring rushing towards their mother's chambers immediately. It was most likely to be her as the target to any assassin's attempts. When they got there, they were already too late.

Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk were dead on the floors of Rhaenyra's chambers.

🗡

The funeral was small, only attended by a few people, including Jace, Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, and Daenys. The Queensguard and the gravedigger, too, but they did not add to the conversation.

"He is the basest of Villains." Jace insisted that they bury Erryk and Arryk separately, so the traitor did not taint his brother's grave, who had loyally protected the Queen with his life. He was denied by Rhaenyra herself. "He sullies his brother's grave."

"I cannot fault him for keeping his oath." The morning sun was blocked by a sheet of grey clouds, ever setting Dragonstone's mood to somber.

Jace, leaning in so others could not hear, "and what of those who sent him?" He was frustrated, furious even, that Rhaenyra refused to retaliate on an assassination attempt on her own life, obviously made by the usurper. Daenys, though silent all night and morning, was torn between both sides. Jace was right to want to send out their full force, surround King's Landing with their dragons and armies before they could amass any more men themselves. Rhaenyra wished to keep the peace, find any way to take her throne back with the least amount of bloodshed.

Rhaenyra was silent, and Jacaerys began walking away to go back inside the castle. Daenys, with some reluctance, followed. She did not have the energy to speak with Rhaenyra alone after their conversation last night.

"She is being foolish, merciful on the very men who murdered Luke—almost murdered her!" He said, slowling for Daenys to catch up.

"Mother is being cautious. They do have a large support, now that people believe her to be a babe killer. They also have Vhagar." Daenys reminded him, though her own blood ran hot at the idea of Aemond and Aegon, laughing in the throne room at their hardships.

"Even Vhagar cannot face all of our dragons." He sniffed.

"If we sent all of our dragons to beat one, it would be a bloodbath of them all. The dragons follow commands, not sides. Who knows if they accidentally attack an ally who got in their way?" She mused, placing her hands behind her back as they walked along the beach.

Jacaerys conceded, heaving a dramatic sigh and throwing his head back, knowing his elder sister was right. "I only wish to bring them to justice. For all of this to be done with."

"Me too, Jace." She smiled softly, patting his bicep comfortingly.

"So," he turned to her, disregarding the serious topic of discussion for a lighter one. "What truly happened in the North? You leave for nearly three weeks, then come back betrothed. You didn't look too pleased with it." He frowned.

Daenys defended Cregan quickly. "Cregan is kind and understanding. We spent much time together on our travels to The Wall. I understand why he would want my hand in exchange for more men, I am content with my decision." She left out most of the details, figuring he need not worry about her two near-death experiences or the fact that Cregan confessed his love for her.

"Hm. If he wants a Targaryen, I can make a different offer. You don't need to sacrifice yourself to a Northman so easily." Jacaerys fretted, apparently having selective hearing when Daenys told him about Cregan's qualities.

"As I said, Jace. I am content. Believe me when I say that. You are happy to be betrothed to Baela, yes?"

Jacaerys nodded, pursing his lips into a fine line.

"I believe you. Can you believe me?" She asked teasingly, laughing slightly when he gave her those pathetic puppy-dog brown eyes.

"I do not wish to see my only sister sent off so far. I thought you had no wish to be married?" Daenys knew his words came from a place of concern, but she couldn't help but feel like he simply didn't expect anyone to make an offer.

"Feelings change. You once thought Helena to be your future wife once, didn't you?" She snorted.

He blushed, embarrassed at his past crush. "That was many years ago. Of course, I do not feel the same way now. I'm talking about you, Dae. Do not change the subject. You mean to tell me, that in a mere few weeks, your feelings have completely changed?"

She smiled, nodding firmly. "Yes, I do."

He sighed, resting his hand upon his sword pommel, as he has grown into the habit of doing (much like Daemon, though Daenys did not mention that similar aloud). "Very well. I suppose I do not have to fight any Northern Lords this sennight. But, if he does anything untoward, I will."

Daenys giggled, shaking her head in amusement. "I could not watch such a fight."

"Why not? Wouldn't you like to see the man who disrespected you be cut down?" He puffed out his chest dramatically.

"It would not be much of a fight, dear Brother. I'm afraid I might die of embarrassment when you are disarmed in a second."

He visibly deflated, shocked at her lack of faith.

They reached the doors to Dragonstone's castle, having taken the leisure way around while they chatted. Both separated for the day until the meeting would call upon them.

Daenys went to her chambers, making sure to lock the door behind her this time. She glanced at the cold plate on her table, throwing its contents into the bin nearby. She sighed, dropping the plate with it too, covering it with soft paper. Daenys hated to waste food at such a time, but it would only make her ill. She chose to sleep, feeling the exhausting weighing on her shoulders.

In the afternoon, she was awakened by a soft knock on the door, and Franny's voice told her of her summoning. Daenys quickly fixed her ruffled dress and hair, walking downstairs to the council hall.

The Painted Table was being lit for the council meeting, Rhaenyra standing at its head solemly. The Maester informed her of Daemon's silence, but made an educated guess that he was occupied greatly by Harrenhall.

The table was missing Ser Alfred Broome, though Daenys guessed none truly mourned him. What friends could an arse like him keep? Still, his station needed to be filled.

Rhaenyra started, "Today, we all mourn the loss of Ser Alfred Broome and Ser Erryk Cargyll. Their absences will ring deeply in our hearts, but we must not dwell on it. We need another, to sit on the council, an advisor of Arms." Rhaenyra left it open, for anyone to suggest a knight or lord.

When it remained silent, Daenys was the one who spoke up. With all eyes turned to her, it was hard to stay focused. She took a deep breath in, "perhaps Lord Stark could be summoned to be your Master of Arms? He does hold your current largest force, Your Grace. He knows his men well, and I believe could advise you even better."

Lord Gormon Massey laughed, shaking his head. "Lord Stark is but a boy, he has no experience in war."

Daenys sharply turned to glare at the old man, "tell me, what experience do you have, Lord Massey? What battles has your sword seen?"

He coughed, sitting back in his chair awkwardly. "Does the young Lord send you back to Dragonstone as his betrothed to gain a spot on the Queen's council? What is next, will he demand to be made her Hand?" Gormon tried to recover.

Rhaenyra, on the other hand, had a thoughtful look on her face. "Thank you, daughter. I believe it is worth a try, many other lords allied to us would see themselves...occupied at their own holds nearby. He is far enough to not need to defend Winterfell from any rogue attempts for the Greens to take it." She nodded, dismissing what futile arguments her council might have.

"It will take him two months to travel here, though. I need a filler immediately." She continued.

Daenys nodded. "I can get him, bring him back on dragonback in a full day if I fly with no rest." She said her mother confidently.

"Very well. Go and bring Lord Stark back here, but do not linger at Winterfell. We need Morningstar stationed here, she and Meleys are our biggest dragons." Rhaenyra agreed to the terms, ending that conversation.

The council moved on, Daenys breathing a small sigh of relief. The men of the council bidded Rhaenyra to send out all her dragons at once, ending the war there and then, to which she refused smartly. Every Targaryen and Velayron knew that once you fought with dragons, it did not end so easily. Their house would invite its own destruction once all its dragons and riders were dead.

Another lord made a suggestion for Rhaenyra to hide herself away while they conducted the war without her. She shot that down, too. Irritated, the Queen dismissed her council for the day. There was nothing new to do, besides her own private business that only she could conduct in King's Landing.

Daenys rubbed at her temples, feeling her growing headache pound away sharper at her head. She walked back to her chambers, settling in to attempt to wait it out before she took flight. On her way back to her room, she asked Franny to order for Morningstar to be well-fed for her flight.

She sat on her bed for hours, well into the night, while she waited. What little sleep she got was contantly interrupted by the buzzing of her mind. Come the morning, Daenys still had not left. But, she was glad for it.

Rhaenyra was sending her youngest siblings away, as well as her step-sister Rhaena. Though she understood the reason, she still mourned them as though she might never see them again. As the guards escorted the crage of dragoneggs towards the docks, Daenys held little Viserys in her arms.

She watched absentmindedly as Rhaenyra bid her goodbyes to Rhaena, comforting her, although anyone could tell the young Lady was deeply bothered by being sent away simply because she was the only Velayron to not ride a dragon.

Daenys briefly hugged Rhaena, wishing her a safe journey before stepping aside for Baela to have a more meaningful parting with her sister. The twins shared a great bond, one that Daenys was grateful for. At least they would know they always had each other, no matter how far apart they landed.

Rhaenyra kissed her two baby son's goodbye, hugging Joffrey who was the only one able to stand and speak.

Daenys held Viserys tight one last time, kissing his whispy white hairs before handing him off to a maid. She did the same with little Aegon.

At Joffrey, she knelt. Daenys took his chubby little hands in her own. "Don't worry, sweet boy. I will see you soon, and take you for a ride on Morningstar."

He nodded, tears filling his little brown eyes. They hugged for a while, only forced to part when Jace wanted his turn.

Daenys walked back to the castle, leaving to the dragonpits without saying a word to Rhaenyra. Her mother knew where she would be, there was no reason to say goodbye.

Daenys greeted Morningstar with a girlish laugh, the white dragon nudging her rider as if to ask where she had been the past days since she visited during meal time.

She rubbed at the scaled snout gently. "We're heading back North, my girl."

Morningstar trilled happily, crouching to allow Daenys to mount. With a loud roar, the dragoness took flight back towards where they had come from. To the North they went.

🗡

Daemon had never been in worse company in his entire life. Or seen a castle in such conditions. And he had seen a lot of shit. Harrenhall was a disaster. What once was a great and honorable keep in the Riverlands, had been reduced to leaky roofs and crumbled towers.

It was easy enough to claim, he supposed. But was the repair even going to he worth it? Simon Strong had told him of Larys' hold on Harrenhall's coin, leaving none for the castle to be cared for or repaired. The only people who lived there seemed to be cravens or creeps.

But he'd rather sit here in the ghostly castle than admit defeat and come crawling back to Rhaenyra before he had anything to show for it. Currently, Willem Blackwood and Lord Grover Tully were being summonded to Harrenhall to declare for Rhaenyra and report to Daemon of their houses' available men.

While he waited, he refused to eat or drink anything that the old Strong gave him. He would not succumb to such follys so easily. At night, he found more trouble sleeping than he had before. Daemon found himself unknowing if he was in a dream or wide awake.

In what he suspected was a dream, Daemon looked up at a loomed weirwood tree that was as unkempt as the yard it was planted in. The crumbled stone walls outside, weeds growing everywhere, and dead grass were a testiment to its abandonment. Daemon turned from the tree, looking to go back inside and away from this grey place. He was met with a woman standing at the bottom of the slope. Long, straight, inky black hair flowed all the way to her waist. Her pale skin and green eyes were a stark contrast to the black surrounding her. Her clothes were that befitting of a servent or a bastard.

"You will die in this place."

The woman did not wait for a reply, merely lifting her skirts and walking back beyond the stone walls, leaving Daemon to stare after her.

He woke from the hazy dream only to the sound of droplets hitting the buckets he had placed around his room. Sighing, he wondered if that vagueness was something Daenys had always felt or if hers were more clear. He shook his head, clearing the dream from his mind. He did not have prophetic dreams. It was Harrenhall simply playing tricks on his mind.

Outside of his room, a shadow approached from the crack beneath the door. Daemon stilled, awaiting the action of the unknown person. It stayed silent. The door began to push in and out, an outside attempt to jam open the door–only being stopped by his sword hanging from the handles. Daemon carefully approached it, waiting for the jerking to stop before he removed the steel.

Holding Dark Sister tightly in his hand, he slammed the doors open, only to find no one there anymore. He peered out, waiting for the person to make themselves known. He walked down the hall, more relaxed now in stance as he wandered to the nearest open door.

A hearth was lit in the room, making it appear quite pleasant compared to the rest of the castle. Daemon slowly opened the door more from its cracked position, revealing whomever was inside. A familiar tone played in his mind.

It was the Valyrion song he had learned from his mother and father, from Viserys. He had hummed it to his own children, as all Targaryen parents did when soothing their babes to sleep. How did a lowly creature plaguing this damp castle know High Valyrion?

He stepped inside, meeting a room that was entirely unlike Harrenhall. It was warm, free of all damage. Homely. A white-haired girl sat on a chair, babe clutched in her arms, fast asleep. Daemon stepped closer, right behind the girl. A Targaryen bastard of Harrenhall?

The girl turned to him, ceasing her pretty humming. It was Rhaenyra, no older than nine and ten years of age. The spitting image of her younger self, naive and demanding as she had been back then.

"Always coming and going, aren't you?" She asked bitterly.

Daemon stared in horror, leaning over to see the white-haired babe in her arms. He lowered his sword.

"And I have to clean up afterwards."

He sucked in a harsh breath, a rush of guilt and regret sinking in his heart. "I tried, Rhaenyra. I asked Viserys for your hand—" He sounded desperate for her forgiveness, an image of his younger and more insecure self coming out to show its ugly face.

She ignored his words, humming again and stroking the babe's soft face. It's eyes opened, revealing soft lilacs that matched her mother's–and her father's.

🗡

Eek what do yall think about Rhae's confession? Finally, Daenys finds out that shes never needed to doubt her mind. But, at what cost? Her trust, her loyalty? find out next time on total, drama, island.

hel and jace would've made a fine pair, he is much kinder than Aegon and it might have stopped the war if alicent knew her kids were not threats to Rhae.

important below

🌟- I killed off Broome because he is arguably the most useless and disrespectful of the Black Council. He wasn't a lord, so no plot is lost if he dies. I wanted to note that none of her council has titles, like Viserys' council had. There's master of ships, master of coin, grand maester, master of arms, master of laws, and the Hand.

Rhaenyra only has the hand, maester, and a bunch of advisors, to a reason I do not know. So, I am trying to fill it in as I go. The other will not be given official titles, but I can assume Rhaenys and Corlys kind of unofficially share the Hand spot, since Corlys is often gone. Rhae can't name a woman her hand when her reign is already so fragile unfortunately, so Corlys is her next best.

did y'all know Elinda is a highborn lady? I must have missed that, because I thought she was only a loyal maid to Rhaenyra for years. She is her lady-in-waiting, and her father sits on Rhaenyra's council, Gormon Massey. I dunno how I went two seasons and rewatches without figuring that out without Wiki.

I know Daenys' most anticipated father was Harwin-sue me. I adore Harwin and his bond with Daenys. He took care of her like she was his own/like her brothers. But I feel like Daenys being an outlier from his siblings is a reflection of having a totally different parent from them (not counting the two youngest boys). Her Valyrion features, being a dreamer, her bond with Morningstar, being born a woman, and I'm sure other things I'm missing off the top of my head. All make her different from her brothers. I thought it was fitting of her to have a different father, too. The only one still alive, and the only one who 'stayed' unlike Laenor. Their relationship has always been complicated whereas Laenor and Harwin held a pure and unconditional love to Daenys. Harwin is the dad who stepped up 🙏

Daemon holds a guilt at always knowing he had a daughter in King's Landing but was never able to raise her or acknowledge her existence. He did not form an immediate connection with her like the others did, it took a while and a lot of trust to be built. Even now, Daenys does not love him like she loved the other dads.

Fathers are complicated 😪

[dreamedfyre-a]

the usual disclaimer that this applies to the uh 7 or so people she loves dearly and enjoys having close, but helaena loves to sleep with someone else near. which i mean in a very innocent sense - she likes having someone she loves that close, to hold them close or be held, to be soothed by peaceful breathing and steady heartbeats.

whenever one of the twins (or both) or maelor (or all 3 of them ngl) wanted to sleep with her, she'd make room for them and hold them close and take comfort in their presence and warmth as much as she gives them comfort with affection and safety.

as a child, i think she'd often sleep in the same bed as one of her brothers (aemond, more often than not, probably. chiefly because they're closer in age and also he's her favorite). while that was acceptable because they were little, at least.

more rarely she'd go to her mom's bed. not because she didn't feel comforted and comfortable there but because she didn't want to disturb her. or to be left alone when father sent someone to fetch her mom in the middle of the night

when she was old enough that wouldn't be allowed but not old enough to be married, the idea of having one of her ladies (innocently) share her bed may have been suggested so she'd still have a companion but helaena wouldn't accept it because she doesn't want other people touching her much less near her when she's sleeping thanks

once she's married it's. not like she and aegon sleep together always. when they do it's complicated? (what isn't with them tbh) but i like to think once in a while they find a way to match the pieces right and she takes comfort in his warmth and holds him close and plays with his hair until they both sleep (if anything, i feel this might be easier than any conversation they try to have rip)

she might still go to aemond's bed after it's no longer allowed, before and after her marriage. innocently. (or not so innocently, from a certain point forward. but that depends on plotting 🫡) regardless, i see it happening if she needs comfort for whatever reason as much as if she thinks he needs comfort for whatever reason.

if she didn't hate herself as much as she does and didn't think herself so unworthy of her children post b&c she'd have kept maelor and jaehaera close and had them sleep in her bed after jaehaerys died. it would have been comforting, and maybe the babies would've felt a little better too. alas, she doesn't want them to suffer her presence after what she thinks she did

8 year old helaena curled up with 3 year old daeron (after she forgave him for not being the sister she wanted)

probably took naps curled up close to dreamfyre (sad dreamfyre is too big to sleep in her bed 😔)

but yeah in similar scenarios she enjoys company and sleeps better with someone else there. 100% will fiddle with clothes or play with her or something of the sort while entwined with someone and falling asleep

[king7doms]

Aegon had been lost in thought, debating another escape perhaps. A pointless folly, as he had been found once before, and was likely being even more closely watched, even now followed by two guards. The sound of the children took him out of his thoughts. Though he might not spend much time with them, or with Helaena, it was not due to lack of caring. He was simply not sure how to be a father, or a husband (particularly when he could feel no more than obligation or brotherly affection for his wife).

Jahaera's laughter, a familiar sound throughout the Red Keep, had filled the garden he wandered, though the two guards that had been ordered to follow him (was he not meant to be King?) stepped aside as she had run to him, the flower in hand. He did his best, though he'd never had the example a parent should be for their child - he loved them, certainly, as they were his blood, and they were innocent, something he had not been for years yet - by kneeling down, accepting the offered flower.

He looked up at Helaena from his spot next to his daughter, before standing upright. They were meant to depart soon, to be crowned. The King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, usurpring the throne that had belonged to their elder sister. No matter what their mother said, Viserys had never loved him. Might have loved none of them, with the exception of his daughters and grandchildren. A man who killed his first wife for sons only to loathe those that came from the second, if the stories were truth.

"Are we meant to leave soon? I thought mother said there was another hour, at least." He replied, avoiding eye contact, both for his own comfort and hers. Jaehaera takes his hand, and he does little but smile down at her for a moment, before his son follows suit on the other side, his other hand taken by Jaehaerys. The only two pure things in his life - he does not deserve them.

"Like a King." He mutters, refraining from rolling his eyes. He does not want to be king. He also does not want this family here, these three around him, to be killed by his half-sister if he lived without challenging the throne, as his mother had threatened so many years before. He does look her over. His sister-wife had always been pretty. She looks well enough in the coronation clothes he is sure his mother has had set aside for her for years. He hated this. The compliment, he's sure, should be returned, but he has always been awkward about complimenting Helaena since they were wed. Uncomfortable.

"You look well. We should be much admired by the crowd that is sure to have gathered. Are you prepared enough for that?" He might not have a romantic love for her, but he did not want her to worry herself into panic, knowing that she was prone to that in crowds. This was a foolish move, crowning them before a crowd, knowing of Helaena's difficulty with them. His mother was acting a fool, his grandfather more so.

'oh, jaehaera, you mustn't-' helaena's words fall on deaf ears as the little girl teeters forward, seeking her father's arms. jaehaera was the wild one. always running. the handmaids had the hardest time keeping her contained. jaehaerys was calmer. standing obediently at his mother's side, small hand in her own. it was easy to forget he was the elder of the twins as it seemed he was always following behind his sister.

'she found it in the garden.' helaena hummed as the little girl held out a dusky rose towards her father, 'she wanted to ask you to wear it. at the ceremony.' helaena's stomach turned. she understood that the coronation had to occur. there was no arguing it. not that her mother or grandfather would hear of it. the last place helaena wanted to be was in a room full of people, all gawking at her and aegon.

helaena targaryen had never wanted to be queen. that was not her dream. quiet, solitude. that was what she desired. so much of her life had been outside of her own control. custom dictated where and when she needed to be somewhere.

'you look.....' she hums finally taking in the sight of aegon in his coronation outfit. she could form the image of him with the crown and sword in his hand. aegon would be a good king, given her grandfather let him be. something that was unlikely, 'like a king. handsome.' when jaehaerys drops her hand, moving to join his sister by their father, she wrings her hand together, a habit of hers, 'it suits you.'

@denydefeat

[worthyheir]

@lvscinvs / continued from X

This was the hottest summer in recorded history, if the maester was correct. The small council room was sweltering, and no one had a solution to the dead crops, the drought, the starving people. He had already given as much of their own stores as possible to the smallfolk of King's Landing, but there were Seven Kingdoms that were suffering, from the heat and how it depleted their resources. It had only been a few days, but it was looking as thought it might last weeks, or months. The predictions of the maesters could not always be accurate, but there was a dread in the pit of his stomach that they would be this time. Alongside his Hand missing this council meeting, foolishly choosing to don armor and go to the training yard the day before, despite the warnings against it and the heat that was causing people to faint within the Red Keep, let alone outside in the sun in full armor. Irritating, and had made it so that Jace was spending half the previous day ensuring that his Hand did not suddenly die from his stupidity. Which he had made clear, though he was sure his words went in one ear and out the other. His Uncle had always been stubborn and singularly minded, convinced he was right, when he wasn't. That was what left the Hand of the King out of today's small Council meeting, his sudden heat exhaustion, and perhaps it was the King simply being too overheated himself to not take the words of the men on the council lightly. He was irritable - everyone in the Kingdom was. How could they not be, in this heat? It was no lie that if it continued for long, the people would begin to starve, and he would be to blame, even if he was not the cause of it.

While he was ignoring Aemond, after storming into the room, he was not doing so intentionally. He was lost in the idea of failure, of what would happen if they were suddenly beset upon by this heatwave for months, or longer, before autumn broke the tepid air and brought cooler temperatures. The sweat had coated his skin near constantly the last two days, and were it not for the need to leave the room, he is not sure he would have put on any clothing, his shirt removed promptly as he tore the curtains down, angry at himself. A sort of self sacrifice, though he does forget he is not in the room alone, until the hand, strong and firm in it's grasp, pulls his hair back, a combination of shock and anger on his face, though he does make the choice to answer the question.

"Perhaps not soon, but if this continues..." The grip loosened his hair, did not release, and he did not move, eyes looking up (an annoyance when standing oftentimes), from his seat. He knows his hair drips with the sweat, his entire body coated in a sheen of salt from the heat that radiates around them. He is no stranger to fire, but that is avoidable at times. This is something he cannot combat. He does calm, a bit, at the look in the face of his Hand, at the hand now curling at the nape of his neck. There has been a near three decades long connection between them, from childhood rivals, to near enemies, to forced companionship, friends, and now? "I must depart soon, treat with the North, where the temperatures are cooler. Their crops and livestock do not suffer as ours do. Even if I do not need to travel all the way to Winterfell, I will need to go.

It's too hot, unbearable so, and now he's almost trapped in this velvet cushioned chair that, yes, he had collapsed into, but now his skin, slick with moisture, was uncomfortable against the material. A slight annoyed sound, almost a growl, comes from his throat. He reaches out a hand, palm flat against his Uncle's stomach, slick with sweat, eyes still on his face. Gods it was too hot out. Steam might as well be rising off the bodies of everyone around them with how unbearable the heat was. "Soon. I plan to leave on the morrow."

[bumblesimagines]

Bundles of Joy, Bundles of Anger

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Upon becoming man-grown, Jace was wed to his mother's cousin, the daughter of Daemon Targaryen. Months later, the war breaks out and surprising news of his child being born reaches him soon after returning to Dragonstone to say his final goodbyes to Luke.

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, arranged marriage trope, Targcest (Cousins)

so short I do not know why my F!Reader stuff ends up being short

~~~

A million thoughts raced through Jace's head as Vermax descended through the clouds and the ancient castle of Runestone came into view, nestled by the water and essentially isolated by the rural landscape expanding in nearly all directions. His heart raced faster than his mind and his orders for Vermax twisted on his tongue but his dragon nonetheless understood the urgency in his tone and tucked his wings closer toward his body, plunging the both of them toward the ground at a higher speed before expanding them once more and gliding closely over the vibrant grass. 

It'd only been two days since Jace received the shocking news flown in by raven revealing his lady-wife, Princess (Y/N), had given birth to his child a month prior. The surprise on his face had no doubt been comical when Maester Gerardys awkwardly read the contents of the letter at the meeting and remained standing in silence as Rhaenyra and everyone else took in the startling news. 

There'd been no word from Runestone, not since (Y/N) had sent a letter detailing an illness to explain her absence from attending alongside them while the claim to Driftmark was disputed. At the time, Jace had shrugged it off and dismissed Baela's insistence that he tend to his wife. They hardly enjoyed each other's company so he saw no use in visiting her and causing her further strife, but now as he watched Runestone grow closer and closer, he kicked himself for not heeding Baela's words. 

Their presence roused the dragon sleeping near the castle and the shriek from her forced Vermax to slow down. His dragon responded to the call and diverted course toward her, flapping his wings until his speed slowed further. He landed near the she-dragon and lowered himself onto the ground with a quiet chirp. Jace carefully climbed down and landed firmly on his feet, instinctively tugging off his riding gloves and eyeing the bemused she-dragon who seemed half-tempted to burn them both.

"Sagon gīda, Starlight," Jace called, swallowing down the fear that bubbled in him as he began walking toward the path she conveniently rested beside. Starlight huffed a cloud of smoke at him and squinted her emerald eyes at him, her head following him until he reached the gates of Runestone. 

"Prince Jacaerys," An older man he recognized as Gerold Royce greeted him when the gates opened, bending at the waist. "Our Princess of Runestone has been expecting your arrival, My Prince. She awaits you in the nursery. Come this way, if you please."

The nursery.

Jace nearly stumbled over his feet at those mere words, luckily catching himself before he made a fool of himself before men who eyed him with disdain. He knew of the Royce's dislike for Daemon Targaryen (especially after the supposed murder of Rhea Royce) but he never expected it to extend to his family and himself. Still, he kept his head held eye and one hand on the hilt of his sword as he followed Gerold into the castle. 

"I was not aware of Princess (Y/N)'s... condition."

Gerold glanced back at him. "We know." 

A familiar rush of anger spread through him like spilled water. He gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Why was I not informed sooner? I may be young but I am no fool; I know pregnancies may last up to eight or nine moons." He tried restraining his simmering anger. He knew very well how loyal the man was to his blood. 

"Our Lady desired a peaceful pregnancy, My Prince. She did not wish to be disturbed or bothered during such delicate times." Gerold explained simply and Jace allowed himself a brief scowl before he wiped it off his face once they came upon a guarded door. 

Stepping inside, Jace's eyes were instantly drawn to the crib in the center of the room and then to his wife seated near it. She looked away from the crib at their presence and sighed quietly, sipping the last of her tea before she set it aside and rose. (Y/N) exhaled deeply, her nose crinkling and her hand pressing near her back to massage the flesh. Jace spared Gerold a glance and walked forward toward her, extending an arm to offer his support but she stopped him and waved him off. 

"You may leave us, Cousin. Thank you." She told the older man, offering him a brief genuine smile that promptly disappeared when he left. 

Jace finally noted her appearance up close. She looked exhausted, as was usual of mothers after labor. The bags under her (E/C) eyes were noticeable through her powdered skin and she'd discarded her usual dresses for a simple thing gown that showed her belly still full from the pregnancy. He knew from his time in the Keep that most women differentiated from each other; some, like Dowager Queen Alicent, were able to lose the weight gained during pregnancy fairly quickly whilst others, like his mother, retained it for some time.

A gurgled coo brought his attention down toward the crib and he finally looked upon the baby. "Oh.." He shakily whispered when he noticed the head full of brown hair with silver streaks through it, strands that curled subtly at the ends just as his once did before he got older. Small, frail, and so beautiful. His child. His. He hummed forcibly when tears abruptly sprang to his eyes. "What- What is their name?"

"His name is Valerion."

"A boy?" Jace breathlessly questioned, his head snapping back toward her with widened eyes. "A- A son?" An heir.

He looked back at the little being happily dozing and his heart twisted into itself, cautious steps bringing him closer to the crib. He reached out tentatively and carefully took him into his arms. Valerion stirred in the golden bundle he'd been wrapped into and parted his eyes to peer up at him, blinking sleepily and sighing before his eyes closed again to doze off. Jace chuckled and leaned down, nuzzling his nose against Valerion's forehead. 

"Your grandmother will be pleased." He whispered and drew back, carefully bouncing his arms as he'd once seen his mother do with Joffery. "A perfect little dragon. You shall be given an egg soon enough. Silverwing has recently laid a clutch and one shall be yours, little one. Once we return to Dragonstone-"

"Valerion and I will remain here in Runestone until further notice." (Y/N) cut in swiftly and his brows knitted together. "Runestone is a safe castle, Jacaerys. If the enemy comes, they will be seen before they can come close and dealt with. I am in no state to travel and neither is he at such a young age. He will see Dragonstone and the Keep after the war." 

"I cannot stay here, (Y/N). I am needed in Dragonstone to serve alongside my mother, you know this. You will heal in time, and it will be much better if you do so under the care of Maester Gerardys. He will be safe-"

(Y/N) scoffed. "Your mother was nearly slain in her own bedchambers and the Greens are merely a short flight away from the island. I will not risk my child's life, Jacaerys. It is your duty to serve on Dragonstone, it is mine to serve here. Runestone is my castle and my responsibility to protect it, just as it is my responsibility to protect my son." She spoke, tone full-on authoritative and eyes challenging. 

Jace stared at her in disbelief and grounded himself enough to delicately place Valerion back in his crib before he faced her. "Was this all part of your plan to alienate me as much as possible from my child? We have not spoken since our wedding night nearly a year ago and you remained silent on your pregnancy. I could have been here to see him enter this world. I should have been here- No, you should have been in Dragonstone." 

"You are a fool if you believe you would have been any help. You would have hovered like a bothersome fly and questioned every single thing as if you had any idea what a pregnancy is like. I remained here in Runestone with my family and I delivered a healthy boy with the help of Maester Corrad and the midwife. This child is Royce as much as he is Targaryen. If you were to pass in battle-"

"Is that what you hope?" Jace bristled as he spat words laced with accusation. "Do you wish for me to pass in battle so that you may rid yourself of this marriage? We made vows, oaths, in the name of the Seven or have you forgotten? We have duties to one another, regardless of our desires, and we are bound to each other. This child is mine as much as he is yours. He needs his father. We do not know how long this war will rage on and I will not allow him to see me as a stranger." 

(Y/N) released a sigh and lowered herself down onto the cushioned seat, resting her arms over her belly and watching him. "Then, you may visit as you have done today." She said simply and he scoffed again. "You believe because you are Crown Prince that your duties are more important than mine but if I recall only one of us currently rules and it is not you, Jacaerys. I have ruled Runestone since my flowering at the age of eleven whilst you spent your days tormenting Aemond One-Eye, being spoilt and coddled endlessly by your mother, and trailing after the Velaryon girl like a fool."

His face flushed with embarrassment and anger and he took a glance at his son to ease the bubbling emotions threatening to spill over. Jace inhaled deeply and squeezed his eyes, releasing the air and forcing his tense body to relax. He stepped forward and unclasped his sword's holster before bending his knee in front of her. He set the sword aside and reached forward to take her hands into his.

"I understand." He murmured. "I do, I truly do. I understand your concerns and- and I will try to find a compromise that will please us both. I do not wish to fight before our son but I ask of you, as your lord-husband and father of your child, to consider my side of things. I know we have been far from a happy couple and I will admit my feelings for Baela have not left entirely.. but I am willing to change. For you. For him."