#daemon ike turner targaryen

[bohemian-nights]

Arlī(Anew)Chapter 7

Word Count: ~9,934

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; violence; blood; minor smut

Description: Love is not a precursor to marriage. Nor is it a requirement. Love matches are rare. Even rarer are those who grow to love one another.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Sorry this took a little longer than expected. The holidays are crazy 🫠

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

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131 AC- Dragonstone

Marriage is an institution. It is the oldest institution in existence. The very foundation of polite and chivalrous society. It can be characterized by duty, affection, and fidelity though the latter two are rare to find in most unions. Love is not a precursor to marriage. Nor is it a requirement. Love matches are rare. Even rarer are those who grow to love one another.

For those fortunate enough to be born high in society we marry those who we are told to. Duty and love are like oil in water in most unions. Perhaps the institution is kinder to those who are less fortunate. Matrimony can be a joyful gift to those lucky enough to have been blessed by the Maiden, but so few are.

Liberation within its sacred vows is few and far between. This is the case for women especially. A woman is first the property of her father and then later her husband. Devoting her life to both. She lives in service of others. To be a devoted daughter to birth her husband's heirs. When she fails that duty she is shamed. Cast aside if not physically she is mentally iced out. She is looked down upon. Reprimanded for her faults, but when she succeeds she is the embodiment of the mother herself.

Marriage of course has its benefits for women as well as men. It offers the chance for a legacy. A way of serving past death. Cheating the very nature of mortality. Life is fleeting, but we can live from beyond the grave. Through our children, we go on. We endure for them so that we may preserve in some fashion or another. It brings legitimacy to children created within its union. The role of marriage at its heart. We all have our parts to play.

Naerys went into her marriage with the same expectations as most highborn women. She did not ask for much. She knew her duty. She was to bear her husband a male heir and at least a spare. She was to educate her children in the customs of old Valyria. If the Gods willed it she would fill the halls of Dragonstone with plenty of children to go around.

There had been a time when she had seemingly failed this duty, that the princess had thought she would have to share her husband with another, but that time had thankfully passed. Though doubts lingered in the back of her mind, the past was the past. She could not change it. Nor would she wish to. Her deck had been set. The cards had been handed out. She would make the best of the hand that she had been dealt. It had not been a bad hand in the end.

Where the first five years of her marriage had been hectic, full of uncertainty and pain, the past eleven years of Naerys' marriage had been as close to felicity as she had ever reached. Daemon was a loyal and attentive husband. Though he could be hot-headed and brash he was a passionate and devoted man. She could not complain. She had more than she could have ever dreamed of.

Nothing could beat her husband's smile when he was thrilled with her or something else that excited him. The way his violet eyes crinkled up at the corners brought light to his pale face. His boisterous laughter filled her up, warming her up on cold nights as he held her in his arms after a heated round of lovemaking.

Her uncle's consideration of her needs was unparalleled. Over the years he had grown to value her opinion above all others. Seeking her council for decisions or problems that arise with their vessels and Dragonstone’s small folk. The day-to-day of their household was left mostly in Naerys' care. An arrangement that worked out the best for both.

Rarely did Daemon miss their evening rides on Silverwing and Caraxes around their island. Nor the chance to recount each other’s days over a cup of warm mulled wine while they sat by the fire. The Targaryen couple relished the time that they spent in each other’s company. Whether it be sharing a simple meal in their chambers solar, reading texts of various natures to each other, or a shared bath to wash off the stress of the day. Daemon always made time for his little wife no matter how busy their days got.

When Naerys had given birth to Daenys and no sons had followed after she had grown weary, her husband had not seemed to mind that his heir came in the form of a girl. Her strength regrew from his conviction. Their daughter was a blessing from the Gods. A miracle that they cherished above all else. Anyone who asked the Rogue Prince’s true opinion on the issue of his lack of sons would receive a firm challenge. “Why would I wish for sons when I have my little dragon?” They would not make the mistake of questioning the prince again or his daughter's position as his heir.

A sweet sentiment, but Naerys had held out a silent hope that her womb would quicken again the first three years after Aenys birth. That the maesters had been wrong. That she would be able to give her husband a son and heir. Praying to the mother every time she lay with her husband and he released inside her that his seed would take, They had not been. By the fourth year after their son's tragic birth, it became clear that Daenys would remain their sole living child.

Daenys was a vivacious girl with a charming disposition. She excelled in needlepoint, dancing, and court etiquette as well as high Valyrian, literature, and ancient histories. She found politics and sums to be tedious, struggling especially with the latter, but she rarely gave her septa or Maester Orly's much trouble for it. Much to her father's disappointment, and her mother's relief, she did not enjoy swordplay, but she had grown to love archery almost as much as her daily rides upon the slender dragon she had named Moonbeam.

Though the young princess had her mother's looks she had inherited her father’s stubbornness. Preferring to do things as she saw fit though she could be persuaded to see the merits in others' opinions if she was given enough reason to. Daenys was a true daughter of House Targaryen. Every inch the Valyrian beauty, standing tall with her silver curls, honey complexion, and violet eyes she had inherited from her father. Her loveliness only grew with each passing name day. The young princess was shaping up to be a fine lady of impeccable breeding.

While Daenys may not have been an ideal heir due to her sex, no one could doubt her legitimacy or her position as Daemon’s successor. She had no brothers. No other siblings legitimate or otherwise. The young princess was the sole living natural-born child of both of her parents. There could be no question of who would inherit Dragonstone after her father would depart from this earth. This was not the case for her older cousin.

The question of legitimacy was presented with Rhaenyra. The presumed heir to the Iron Throne. The firstborn daughter of the king. Born from Viserys first marriage to his late cousin Aemma. Though Rhaenyra was undoubtedly her father's eldest child, the king had since remarried. Her stepmother had given birth to four children, three of whom were sons. Viserys long hoped for heirs. Their births should have pushed her further down the line of succession except they had not and the crown princess remained heir.

Every heir has certain expectations. The continuation of the family line is one of them. Under threat of disinheritance, Rhaenyra had been married to her Velaryon cousin the late Ser Laenor. In their many moons of marriage, she birthed three sons. The eldest two, Jaecerys and Lucerys, had been named the future heir of the Seven Kingdoms and the future Lord of Tides respectively. In the king's mind, his line and Rhaenyra’s position as the heir appeared secure.

Despite Naerys' cousin claiming each dark-haired pug-nosed son Rhaenyra bore, the question of the legitimacy clung to them. Ser Laenor’s proclivities were well known. Whether the two had tried to work past his urges if the Velaryon heir was truly sterile was not known to the realm at large, but regardless of the finer details, everyone knew who really fathered the realm’s delight’s children. They were unquestionably the baseborn sons of the crown princess sired by her late lover and good brother Ser Harwin Strong.

Lord Corlys and his lady wife Princess Rhaenys said nothing publically to contradict Rhaenyra’s son's parentage for the sake of their granddaughters. The little strong sister twins, Baela and Rhaena were set to marry Jace and Luke. The elder was to be the queen of the seven kingdoms while the younger lady of Driftmark was like her grandmother before her. Privately, it was obvious that Rhaenys was less than enthused at her good daughter's lack of discretion. The fact that she had turned to her late daughter's husband as a means to provide herself with heirs had further soured their relationship.

In the wake of Ser Laenor’s death, Rhaenyra and her children fled from Driftmark. I can not bear to be in the place where my husband has died. I am so alone here uncle. All I have are my sons. An excuse and a plea. It was what she wrote to Daemon. Keeping true to his word that there were to be no more secrets between he and his young niece-wife, the Rogue Prince read over the contents of the letter to Naerys as they were preparing for bed.

When he had finished, Naerys expected her uncle to return to his writing desk. Wasting no time to extend an invitation to Rhaenyra, he kissed the worry lines that had appeared on her forehead and tossed the letter into the fire. Pulling her silver coils back from her little brown face before he bent down to capture her sweet mouth in a kiss. He began to pull the loose tie to her gown to reveal the sheer gown underneath. She shivered in the cool night air that had seeped into their solar, but she did not suffer for long. Warming up under her husband’s amorous attention.

“Ao emagon daorun naejot zūgagon issa dōna riña.” You have nothing to fear, my sweet girl. Naerys' husband wrote back to Rhaenyra in the morning. He offered her their condolences once more, but he did not offer her a place by his side in Dragonstone’s halls.

Not receiving the reply she had hoped for, Rhaenyra and her sons made their way to the Vale. Having heard of her plight Jeyne Arryn, her cousin for her the princess's mother had been an Arryn, and Lady of the Eyrie offered her a place at her hearth.

The Warden of the East was a virtuous woman who held little love for those who sought to usurp a woman’s rightful position in favor of their male relatives. She knew all too well what it was like to be looked down upon for her sex. Her own cousin Ser Arnold Arryn had twice risen against her to claim her Inheritance.

Her opinion remained low among those who sought to replace her cousin as heir due to her sex and her children's questionable legitimacy. She dismissed the claims of Rhaenyra’s son's bastard status as harsh untruths. “Your sons have inherited the Arryn look, my dear princess.”

Lady Jeyne Arryn and the crown princess got on well enough with the exception of one subject. Prince Daemon Targaryen. Lady Arryn's distaste for the Rogue Prince had been well known. She had never held a high opinion of the man, but what little regard she had held vanished after the death of Lady Rhea Royce.

“She believes I killed that unfortunate woman who I happened to have been tied to for her inheritance, little one.” Her husband's first wife was a topic that only came up a handful of times in their marriage. It was for all intents and purposes a cold barren union that had embittered them both. The two had only slept together a handful of times and saw each other with little frequency. A stark contrast to the affections he held for his niece-wife.

Naerys sometimes wondered, mostly to herself, if her uncle had done away with Lady Rhea. True enough, Daemon was away from the Runestone at the untimely death of his first wife, but he hated the woman and he hated that he was not allowed to take another for a wife. He had wasted no time in demanding his baby niece's hand in marriage when she finally succumbed to her injuries. Flying to Driftmark to claim his prize for enduring a frigid marriage bed for so long.

Curiosity got the better of Naerys when she asked in a haze of lust and Dornish Red one night if he had. Daemon laughed before breathing into her ear as he thrust his middle and index fingers into her cunt to prolong her peak. Pulling out his digit from her overspent heat when she began to whimper. Bringing their combined spends to her slightly swollen lips. A love-drunk look overtook her husband's pale face when she eagerly suckled on the pads of his fingers. “If my brother had not let me have a taste of you I would have.”

Naerys had been told that Rhaenyra would hear no ill words against her beloved uncle. “It is not his fault dear cousin. My uncle would have never turned me away had it not been for another who has crawled in his bed and takes joy in whispering fables into his ear.” Lady Jeyne spoke no more on the subject.

The Eyrie for a time became a place of diversion for the crown princess. Her cousin was gracious enough to let her have a run of her own household. Giving her the freedom she so desired as long as she did not interfere in her role as Warden of the East.

Still, life in the Vale grew dull for Rhaenyra. The ancestral seat of House Arryn was beautiful, but a small remote castle. Served the purpose of defense well, but for entertainment, it fell short even in comparison to Dragonstone which sat in half isolation. Guests were few and far between besides the young lady Strong‘s who on occasion would fly upon Baela’s mount Moondancer to visit their betrotheds.

I confess that I have grown weary of this place. Though Lady Arryn is kind, the Eyrie is not home. The crown princess had written once again to their uncle. It was Naerys who extended the offer of a visit to Dragonstone’s shore. It was in part born out of her duty as a mother.

Daenys was fast approaching her fifteenth name day. The young princess was a beauty, an accomplished dragon rider, and possessed an overall sweet disposition. She did not lack for admirers, however, her eyes were firmly set upon her cousin Aemond. A fondness that was returned in kind.

“She’s too infatuated with him.” It was said as Daemon glared at Aemond from the high table as Aemond spun Daenys around the great hall during their nephew's last visit. “And you are encouraging it little one.” The Rogue Prince had tried to separate the two after Prince Aemond had asked for his daughter's hand in marriage. An act that had ended poorly.

“Iksan ojūdan mijegon zirȳla nuncle. Wed zȳhon naejot issa isse se tradition hen īlva lentor.” I am lost without her nuncle. Wed her to me in the tradition of our house. The young prince had promised her parents that he would not remove his future bride from all that she loved. Daenys preferred the quiet tranquility of Dragonstone’s smoky shores. The Red Keep with its gossip and foul air held little appeal for the princess. Aemond truth be told found his father’s court to be tiring. It was no place to raise children. He knew that all too well. This had been the final straw for the princess’s father.

“My dear nephew, I’d sooner wed my daughter to a pig than you. At least then we’d get a meal out of it.” Daemon sniggered at his nephew who had dropped down to his knees with his sword clasped firmly between his hands in a show of fealty. The older prince's face turned to stone as he sneered down at the red faced one eyed prince. Daemon ordered him to take leave from Dragonstone. “Your nursemaid will be missing you.” A pair of guards flanked Aemond on his involuntary march to Vhagar. Taking flight without so much as a being allowed a goodbye to his young love.

Daenys had given her parents the fright of their lives when she flew from Dragonstone in the middle of a storm without so much as a trace. They had begun to expect the worst until a raven arrived from the Red Keep informing Naerys and Daemon of their daughter's whereabouts. The young princess had made the trek in perilous weather, a course of action which her cousin had advised her not to undertake, to entreat upon her uncle’s goodwill. Surely he would force his brother's hand and allow their union to take place.

When the appeal was posed by the young lovers to the dying man he was said to have turned away from his son to gaze upon his young niece with a slight look of confusion. Taking her unblemished hand in his frail one with an apologetic smile on his face. “I do not think that is wise Naerys.”

The broken-hearted young princess was retrieved from the capital with haste by her father and barred from leaving so much as her chambers without the presence of at least one of her maids. Daemon threatened to send for her old septa, but Naerys was able to calm her husband. “It was a mistake. She has learned her lesson kepus.”

Daenys complied with her parents' demands without complaint, but she was a restless girl. Her spirit would rally again. She would not be satisfied until she had gained what she wanted and Aemond was unlikely to give in unless he was told to by the young princess herself. The will of youthful pride and passion could not be underestimated.

It came as no great surprise when Daenys came to her mother begging for her help. “Ziry mazverdagon issa sōpagon muña.” He makes me laugh mother. The young princess broke down into sobs as Naerys stroked her silver curls. “Nyke kostagon daor jikagon va mijegon zirȳla” I can not go on without him.

Daemon had not mellowed much with age. Remaining every bit as stubborn as the Rogue Prince of his youth. He disliked Aemond as a match for his daughter and his opinion of him was unlikely to change, but perhaps if Daenys affections were to transfer to another of another they could move past this. Young love was fickle enough. The first passions of youth could fade just as quickly as they began.

“It is good to be among family again uncle.” In the fortnight that Rhaenyra and her sons stayed in Dragonstone’s stone halls she had made herself quite at home. Taking up residence in the Sea Dragon tower, far enough away from Naerys and her family’s residence in the Stone Drum, the princess, and her children were given free roam of the place.

Naerys was reminded of the early days of her marriage when Rhaenyra had been a constant presence in their home, though to her relief her husband did not seem half as interested in his niece this time around. He in fact had left the entertainment of the crown princess to Naerys. “You brought her here little one.” Daemon had told her with a teasing smirk when she had grumbled about her cousin's ways. Having to sit through sewing circles, dinners, and gatherings with a pinched-faced Rhaenyra had been a less than joyous experience, but for Daenys she endured it.

“Joffrey has grown so very fond of Daenys.” The three Targaryens peered down from the courtyard rafters to gaze upon their children in the training yard below. Rhaenyra and Naerys stood on opposite sides of Daemon who had pulled Naerys hand in his. A sight that had drawn the older princess’s attention as revulsion was written clearly across her pale face.

The Rogue Prince echoed the crown princess’s sentiments as he continued to draw circles with his thumb into the back of his wife’s hand. “It is truly a shame that she has no brothers.” It is a shame that your wife has given you no sons. Naerys stifled, but that did not go unnoticed by Daemon.

“As it is a shame that you had no daughters.” The crown princess’s lilac eyes brightened for a moment before her uncle continued on. “Or silver-haired sons.” Rhaenyra gave a tight-lipped smile before making her excuses. Leaving back for the safety of her guest chambers in Sea Dragon tower.

That night Naerys confessed her plan to her husband. Joffrey had not been her first choice for her daughter's potential betrothed, but she had run out of options. Daenys had found fault with every boy she had tried to thrust their daughter's way. He is too dull mother or he is too arrogant or I hate his laugh. While Rhaenyra’s youngest son was a well-mannered boy, she did not know how much longer she could take from her cousin's leering presence.

“Send them away.” Daemon had laughed lightly as he pulled her into his lap. Placing his forehead to hers. “Īlva byka zaldrīzes does daor raqagon joffrey isse bona ñuhoso nor does ziry ūndegon zȳhon hae mirros tolī than nykeā mandia. Ziry jorrāelagon daor dīnagon nykeā bastard.” Our little dragon does not like Joffrey in that way nor does he see her as anything more than a sister. She need not marry a bastard.

Naerys had dreaded telling her cousin to leave from Dragonstone’s shores. She had never been good at confrontation. Preferring to avoid it at all costs. The princess had found silence to be the best course of action when dealing with something or someone unpleasant. In the end, there had been no need for her anguish over the issue.

Two ravens arrived at Dragonstone. The first from Driftmark. The second from King's Landing. Both told the same tale. Lord Corlys Velaryon had fallen ill. A fever. Sudden and unexpected.

The Velaryon lord could not leave his bed. His wife Princess Rhaenys and their eldest granddaughter, Lady Baela, worked tirelessly to nurse him back to health. Rhaena spent most of her days praying for her grandfather's recovery in Hide Tide’s sept. It was when his condition took a turn for the worst that his brother chose to strike. The balance that they had crafted was steadily collapsing.

Ser Vaemond had always held firm to the belief that it was he and not Rhaenyra’s sons who was the rightful heir of the Driftwood Throne. He was Lord Corlys’ only living brother. He was the commander of house Velaryon’s navy. He was a true Velaryon with the undiluted blood of old Valyria running through his.

Though he had some minor disagreements with his nephews all had been in agreement that Lucerys Velaryon and his brothers were really bastards born of Strong seed. They were unfit to rule over them as the Lord of the Tides nor would they suffer through the embarrassment of house Velaryon being headed by a bastard welp of a whore. The Velaryon men had put aside their differences in support of their uncle's claim. It was with one unifying mind that Ser Vaemond, his sons, and his five nephews set sail for the Red Keep.

Naerys had always suspected that Ser Vaemond and Ser Otto Hightower had struck up a bargain with one another. They had a common enemy. The Driftwood Throne and the Iron Throne could be theirs respectively if Rhaenyra’s heirs were officially declared illegitimate. Aemond’s letter to Daenys all, but confirmed their unspoken agreement.

Tell your mother not to worry sweetling. My grandsire will be proceeding over Ser Vaemond’s petition. The king is too ill to leave his bed. Mother believes that we have worn him out from our little ambush. Naerys doubted that her uncle had been informed of the events that were transpiring around him.

Rhaenyra had been unfortunately present when Daenys had been made to read the letter aloud when they broke their fast. “I beg you uncle if you had or still have any love for me please save my boys.” With tears streaming down her face she implored Daemon to see to her children's “safety.” The crown princess’s sons were sweet true enough, but there was not enough sentiment to warrant defensive action. Their lives were not forfeit if they were publicly declared bastards.

Daemon agreed to it. “I would want Viserys to do the same for Daenys' little one.” His simple reply when his wife had asked why. Naerys did not object. If it gave her husband piece of mind that he had done what he could for his great nephews and their mother she would not dare try to sway or guilt him into changing his mind.

It had been suggested by Rhaenyra that she stay within the confines of Dragonstone when they were gearing up to leave for the Red Keep. “We will not be very long dear cousin.” She took all too much pleasure in ordering her around as she moved to smooth down imaginary lines on their uncle's riding leathers.

“My wife could talk some sense into him niece.” Daemon flicked Rhaenyra’s hand away. Naerys knew that her husband could care less for the fate of Ser Vaemond or his kin. However, he was not unaware of his niece-wife’s sentiments. For all his faults the Velaryon knight had been true to Naerys. She could not remember her father, but she could recall every instance that Vaemomd had tried to serve in his absence. She had to try to save him from his own self if she could. Naerys did not spare her aunt another look as she climbed upon Silverwing’s back and took to the skies.

The Dragonstone party arrived in Kings Landing well before Ser Vaemond and Alicent had been the ones to welcome them when they had arrived in the courtyard of the Red Keep. The queen gave a curt greeting to her good daughter before pulling Naerys to the side reiterating what her son had written in his letter. “The king is ill. We do what we can, but it is in the Mother's hands. My father will be the one to make the final verdict.”

Rhaenyra demanded to be taken to see her father almost immediately once the children had left to find some amusement. “I wish to see him.” Naerys could not blame her. If she was in her position she would request the same. The crown princess's visits to her father in the ten years since she had left had been minimal. The Red Keep of her youth was gone. The emblems and regalia of house Targaryen had been replaced mostly by the religious doctrine of the Seven. One was hard-pressed to recognize the castle.

Rhaenyra tried to leave Naerys waiting in the solar outside of the king's bed chambers, but Daemon chastised the crown princess with a frown upon his brow. “She is my wife Rhaenyra.” With a glare thrown in her cousin's direction, she conceded, not even bothering to hide distaste at being reminded of her position in comparison to the Lady of Dragonstone.

True enough the king was confined to his sick bed. The room was kept cool and the shudders were drawn so as to keep the sunlight from streaming in. A gauze covered half his face and the half that was exposed was gaunt and pocket marked with sores.

Viserys had not even recognized his own daughter until she had identified herself. “I am here with Daemon father.” Naerys ignored the omission as Daemon took her small hand in his. As he gazed down at his elder brother she was reminded of the worried look he wore during Aenys birth all those moons ago. The king seemed to come alive upon seeing his daughter and brother's faces together no doubt, but It was not long before a coughing fit overtook him. They left him to the care of maesters then.

Rhaenyra tried to collapse into Daemon when they exited the king's bed chambers. Feigning fatigue and exhaustion as she tried to push aside Naerys hand so that she may be encircled in their uncle’s arms, but the man brushed her off. The crown princess had to grab hold of a nearby chair to keep from falling. Turning to his wife he gave her hand a squeeze and placed a kiss on her soft cheek. “I’ll check on our daughter.” The man still looked like a lost boy as he made his way to search for their daughter. Daenys would set him to rights or at least provide him with enough of a distraction so as to keep his mind off of his brother.

The rest of the day leading up to the petitions passed by slowly. Princess Rhaenys, Lady Baela, and Lady Rhaena arrived not long after the Dragonstone party. While Naerys was glad to see her aunt and little cousin it was not their arrival that she anxiously waited upon. It was not until well in the afternoon that Ser Vaemond and his party finally arrived. At the Lady of Dragonstone’s behest, the queen had brought the Velaryon knight to his niece's guest chambers after she and her father briefly spoke with him. A courtesy that she would not forget.

“You are a Targaryen niece, this does not concern you.” Ser Vaemond tried to dismiss Naerys fears, but she would not let him. She had no dragon dreams, but something told her that this would not end well. The Stranger encircled the Red Keep. The princess could feel that it was not for the ailing king. “I have already received a lecture from one woman of your house. I will not listen to another.” Rhaenys was well-meaning, but she was not a Velaryon. Her interest lay with her blood the Lady Strongs. She would support the bastard's claim as long as her granddaughters sat beside them.

“Was my mother, your sister not a lady of house Velaryon? Was my grandmother, your aunt, not a lady of house Velaryon as well?” Naerys may have the blood of the dragon, but she was just as much if not more so a Velaryon. “Se uēpa, se drēje, se nēdenka.” The old, the true, the brave. House Velaryon’s words. Words she carried in her heart alongside Fire and blood.

“I am your blood. I beseech you uncle. Do not do this.” Naerys would not see the ruin of her mother's house due to her uncle’s ego. This scheme all hinged upon a delicate balance that could topple over at any moment. A set of what-ifs that could turn against him as quickly as they had turned for him. Rhaenyra may be a woman with bastards for heirs, but she was not without her allies. All it took would be a word or two in her favor and Ser Vaemond would be done for.

The Velaryon commanders' friends were few and far between. Ser Otto was loyal to what would put him closer to the crown. The shrewd hand of the king would abandon her uncle without so much as blinking the moment it no longer served him to be his ally. The queen had been kind to her, but her kindness only extended so far. Her interest lay with her children.If she thought that lending her hand would endanger their position or herself she too would turn her back on Ser Vaemond.

Daemon would not speak in support of Ser Vaemond. To do that would mean that he had abandoned Rhaenyra and her cause. He would not defend her Velaryon uncle unless Naerys were to somehow tie her fate to his. Her husband would stop her before it came to that. If Lord Corlys were to recover, there was no telling what he might do to his brother upon finding out that he had “usurped” his chosen heir. It was not too late to turn back, but time was running out.

“It is for house Velaryon that I do this niece.” Ser Vaemond made his way to the door, but his violet eyes softened. A rare moment for the proud man. Naerys was reminded of when she had been a girl. A distant memory of her letting her cry into his arms during her mother’s funeral played back in her head. “Nyke would dōrī deny bona ao issi aōha muñnykeā’s tala. Gaomagon daor ivestragī aōla forget bona.” I would never deny that you are your mother’s daughter. Do not let yourself forget that.

Ser Vaemond was lost to her as he left her chambers with a sad smile, clearing his throat before softly closing the heavy oak door. His fate lay with fickle Gods who had hardly been known to show mercy. Naerys crumbled to her knees as she let herself give in to her emotions.

The petition had been surprisingly short, but the ramifications were not so. Naerys was made to stand near Rhaenyra and her sons. The pale woman ambushed her on the way to the Great Hall. She reached out a hand out to grab hold of her forearm. “I need your strength aunt.”

Wearing a smile as her claws dug into her cousin's skin the crown princess dragged her across the Red Keep as if she were her lap dog. By the time they made it to where Daemon and Daenys stood on the opposite side of the queen and her three eldest children in the throne room Naerys felt her arm go numb from the pain.

Rhaenyra only let go of her grip when Daemon barked at her to release his niece-wife. Taking hold of her forearm to soothe the blotchy brown skin. “Look what you've done.” It looked worse than it felt, but Naerys was likely to be left with a dark bruise by morning. The crown princess apologized, stumbling over her words under her uncle’s dark stare. She was spared the worst of the Rogue Prince’s anger when Ser Otto called for the petitions to begin.

Ser Vaemond was called first to speak. Blood was his argument. Blood is what it all came down to. His blood was pure. The blood of the seas, the blood of old Valyria. He was his brother's rightful heir, not some bastard boy with no blood ties to House Velaryon.

Rhaenyra tried to cut the Velaryon knight off. Reminding the court that Luke was the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon. Lord Corlys' only son. He was a Velaryon just as much as his great uncle. His claim was the true one, but he was a Velaryon in name only. The queen reminded her that she would have her chance to speak. The crown princess quieted with a glower at Ser Vaemond who sported a self-assured smirk across his dark brow, but it was she who the Gods shined upon.

The king was announced not a moment after Rhaenyra began her defense of her son. The throne room went silent. The chamber's occupants and petitioners stood in shock as they gazed upon their ailing king. Even the crown princess looked surprised at her father's sudden appearance.

In the light of the throne room, Viserys looked worse than he had in his shrouded bed chambers. He wore a golden mask strapped to his frail wispy head in replace of the gauze that had covered the decaying side of his face. He stood low with the help of his cane hobbling over to the throne. A startled Ser Otto had no choice, but to hand judgment over to the king.

All attempts at assistance were shooed away until Viserys dropped his crown. Daemon swooped in to aid his brother up the steps leading to the Iron throne. Placing his crown upon his head when he finally sat upon that infernal chair. The brothers exchanged a look before her husband made his way back to where they stood. Naerys knew that all was lost for her uncle.

The king had more of his wit than he appeared. From where he stood Driftmarks succession was settled. Naerys glanced over to see Alicent’s face mirroring her own unease. The princess went to clutch at her daughter who returned her grip with a comforting squeeze.

The king called upon Rhaenys to speak. She was the only one who knew what her husband wanted. She would speak for the dying man. All eyes turned to her. It would be on her word that would deal the final blow.

She might have been swayed to support her good-brother had not Viserys arrived. The queen that never was would not have protested too much had Ser Vaemond offered her one of his eldest grandsons for Lady Baela. As long as her granddaughters, her blood, was not cheated of their inheritance she would not have cared who sat claimed the title of Lord of the Tides. It is what Naerys would do, but the king had arrived.

It came as no great surprise when Rhaenys reiterated her and her husband's support of Lucerys' claim. Calling the boy Ser Laenor’s true-born son. Reminding the court that her granddaughters were to wed Rhaenyra’s sons. Lord Corlys’ blood would appear to sit upon the Driftwood Throne twice over. The matter was once again settled with Viserys reaffirming his grandson’s position as heir of Driftmark upon his grandfather’s death.

Or at least it would have been settled had Naerys uncle been able to put aside his vanity. Ser Vaemond could have walked, but he would not give in so easily. He would not allow anyone, especially a king who championed his daughter at the expense of his own sons, to dictate the fate of House Velaryon. His sons and nephews echoed his protestations.

Naerys tried to go to her uncle, but Daemon grabbed her uninjured arm. Pulling her into her before bending down and whispering into her ear. “Bisa iksos daor ao vīlībagon byka mēre.” This is not your fight little one.

The king warned Ser Vaemond. Reminding him that Lucerys was the grandson of a king. His grandson. The Velaryon knight should have remembered his place as the second son of a second house of Valyria, but he still would not fold. The Velaryons may not have dragons, but they had the blood of old Valyria flowing through their veins as well. They had survived centuries of trials and were stronger for it. They would not be brought low if Vaemond Velaryon had anything to say about it.

“Her children are BASTARDS!” Shock once again rained across the throne room as Ser Vaemond roared the accusation at Rhaenyra and her sons. The color had drained from the crown prince's face as she scowled at the Velaryon knight. Naerys felt her heart quicken as she squirmed in Daemon's hold. “And she is a whore!” Time seemed to speed up and slow down. Everything happened all at once

The king called for Ser Vaemond’s tongue. His daughter for his head. It was Rhaenyra who got her wish. Calling upon Daemon to carry out the sentence. The Rogue Prince glared at her as his wife clutched onto the arms he had wrapped around her. He turned both her and Daenys into his chest so that they would not see the Kingsguard who struck off the Velaryon knight's head. A clean break. The great hall's occupants flinched away from the blood spray. Naerys felt her own blood rush through her ears as she turned back around to face what was left of her uncle and the court.

Ser Vaemond’s sons, Daeron and Daemion stood frozen in shock. Ser Otto and Alicent, who had done the same as Daemon in shielding Helaena, looked horrified at the sight of the severed head which had landed a few feet away from them. Aegon had turned his head to avoid staring at the headless knight's body. The warm pool of blood nearly touched his boots. His brother wore a startled expression on his pale face, but he was not able to turn his silver head away from what was once Vaemond’s head before it and the rest of his remains were gathered to be fed to Syrax.

The hall descended into chaos as protests from Naerys' Velaryon cousins were shouted out at the king and Rhaenyra. Ser Maltine and Ser Rhogar, the oldest of the lot, led the charge. Their uncle was a knight of house Velaryon. He deserved a proper trial not whatever this farce had been.

Ser Vaemond had been guilty of nothing except daring to speak the truth and claiming what was rightfully his. The princess’s sons were bastards. Everyone could see that with their dark hair and pug noses. There was not a drop of Velaryon blood in them. No dark Valyrian gentility or grace that those of house Velaryon possessed. They looked more Strong than their true-born lady sisters. Rhaenys clutched both her granddaughters closer to her then. Staring down her good nephews with a stone face. Daring them to speak another word on Baela or Rhaena.

There were no other words to be spoken. At least not by Naerys' cousins. The five Velaryon brothers were seized by members of the Kingsguard. One by one Viserys ordered their tongues to be cut out. No one uttered a word in their favor. Not even Daeron and Daemion who still stood paralyzed from their father's beheading. Their shock no doubt spared them from joining in their cousin's fates.

For the second time within the span of less the posturing of the overly ambitious could have ended there, but when one feels above even the Gods it is hard to stop them. Viserys was on the verge of dismissing the court when Rhaenyra chose to strike.

“My aunt should be questioned, your grace.” Rhaenyra moved over to position herself at the foot of her father's throne. Bending her head slightly in a mockery of fear as her voice trembled with what Naerys supposed was her best attempt at unshed tears. She should have anticipated that her cousin would not miss the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

“For what reason, niece.” Daemon spat the words at Rhaenyra. Viserys echoed his inquiry. Standing up as best as he could to gaze down at his brother and daughter. “What crime has my wife committed?” The crown princess did not flinch as her uncle moved his hand to Dark Sister as he walked toward her with a dark glimmer. One could hear a needle drop as the hall held its breath.

“For conspiring with the late Ser Vaemond to usurp my son's rightful place as heir to the Driftwood Throne.” Penitent was not a look that suited her cousin. It merely came off as posturing. Naerys held her tongue. She would not let pride be her downfall as it had her uncle. She would not let her words be used against her though she did not hide her disdain at the show her cousin was putting on. Not even the king appeared to believe his daughter's tale. Only a fool would believe her accusations. She would let her be her own destruction

“You were there when your daughter received that letter uncle.” Rhaenyra turned her lilac gaze towards her second-born half-brother briefly before turning her attention back to her uncle. Reaching out a hand to calm him. To make him see her reason, but Daemon was not moved.

“You saw how she reacted.” Daenys stirred at the mention of herself and the attacks on her mother's character, but Naerys stayed her daughter. Rhaenyra wanted a reaction from them. The younger princess would not allow her cousin to gain one up on her.

“A frightened niece concerned for her uncle’s safety, that is what you saw. I would expect you to know the sentiment well.” Daemon's grip tightened on his sword. Twisting it slightly within his grasp. “Ser Vaemond raised her since she was a girl. Have you forgotten that? It was not an attack on you and your sons and you know that Rhaenyra.”

“She has forgotten her place uncle!” Naerys did not have to wait long for her cousin to spiral. Her patience had one out in the face of Rhaenyra’s petulance. “Questioning the legitimacy of Luke means to question the legitimacy of his brother, the future king! To question my right to my father's throne. She knows the truth!”

The emotion was thick in Rhaenyra’s voice though Naerys doubted that it came from a place of true sorrow. “She stands to gain everything from this and yet you defend her!” Daemon. It always came back to her husband. Her cousin would never leave her alone as long as her husband remained outside of her hold, but her threats and schemes would only work if the man himself willingly went along with them.

“What do you stand to gain from this Rhaenyra?” Daemon sneered down at his niece. Luring over her as his violet eyes blazed with barely contained fury. Some members of the Kingsguard went to unsheathe their swords in defense of their princess, but Viserys ordered them to hold their ground. “Everything you have ever wanted I imagine. You truly do not see yourself. Be careful what you sow sweet niece.”

“Enough of this!” The king bellowed, standing up from his throne with as much celerity as he could manage in his poor condition. Weariness was evident on his cadaverous face. “You all will cease your bickering at once. The matter is dealt with. There will be no more talk of this. Naerys has committed no crimes except that of acting like a frightened child.”

Viserys turned his attention to his young niece and grandson. “Your daughter is still in need of a husband brother as is Joffrey in need of a wife Rhaenyra.” Daenys paled. Her mother had to tighten her grip on her so that she would not collapse under the weight that was yet to come. From the corner of her eye Naerys spied Aemond stiffening at his father's words. His pale eye landed on Rhaenyra’s son who shifted under his young uncle's glower.

The king seemed to miss the rage upon his second son as he managed a half smile showing off an assortment of rotting and missing teeth in his gummy mouth. “Have them wed after Lucerys and Rhaena.” With that, he dismissed the court. Inviting, or ordering, his family to a private dinner in his apartments so that they may finally put to rest the last of the bad blood that lay between them over good food, drink, and merriment.

Naerys had not realized she had held her breath until they had left the stifling walls of the Red Keep's great hall. The princess tried to catch the eye of her late uncle’s sons, but they remained in a daze as they headed for their fleet that would take them back to Driftmark’s shores with their now silent cousins. Rhaenys and her granddaughters trailed after them, no doubt sending them off before they would ready for tonight’s feast. Daemon ushered her and Daenys back to their chambers before they could be ambushed by either Aemond or Rhaenyra.

The first held his sister's hand as he turned his head towards their daughter's departing figure. His mother and grandsire trying to gain his attention. The latter stood with her sons flanked by two members of her father's Kingsguard. No doubt the king put them there as an act of caution. Her eyes darted with want between her uncle and irritation at her cousin.

“I will not marry him. I will not. I shall not.” Daenys repeated. Her violet eyes watered over as she turned her gaze toward where she had last seen her one-eyed prince. The willowy princess had to be held by both of her parents lest she bolt off. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon issa dīnagon zirȳla kepa.” Do not make me marry him father. Daemon shushed their daughter. It was not a discussion they would have in front of prying eyes within the king's halls.

Naerys had wanted to leave the Red Keep. “I can not stay here. I wish to go home kepus. Now.” The princess did not care if she sounded like a child. She did not want to be here where she was picked apart or where her daughter was made to play along with petty ruses. Where Rhaenyra watched her as if she was the prey waiting to be slaughtered.

Her husband simply gave her a sad smile pulling her silver coils back from her brown face to place a kiss of placation on her forehead. Daemon promised that they would leave in the morning. It was better to indulge the dying man than to make an enemy of him on his deathbed.

They would sort out the issue of Daenys betrothal once they were within the safety of their own stone walls. After all, it was likely that his brother would die before she would be forced to marry Rhaenyra’s bastard. Naerys would have protested had she not seen the rage still in her uncle's eyes. He was not so easy to forgive her cousin's games at court.

Dinner that evening was a strange affair. The tension and disquietude from the petition proceedings had yet dissipated. The Stranger still clung to the foul air of the Red Keep. It was as if a pot had been left on the fire too long and its contents would boil over at any moment. Burning all those who happened to be within reach.

All were in attendance, except Rhaenys. Her granddaughters apologized for their grandmother’s absence. Claiming that the older princess was fatigued from the stress of the journey as well as the care of her husband.

Viserys called for his family to put aside their grievances for his sake. Pulling off his golden mask so that they may gaze upon his true form. Naerys did her best to hide her revulsion at the sight. She had to grab a hold of her husband who sat to her right to regain her composure. Her uncle had become a walking corpse. The king's right eye was lost. The cavernous tissue of his socket stood in its place. One could see straight clear into his corroded mouth from the flesh and muscle that had long since wasted away. Her uncle would not be among them for much longer.

A mummery of goodwill was exchanged between the factions of Viserys family. First between Alicent and Rhaenyra who toasted to one another and their respective houses. After a minor scuffle over a pass made at Lady Baela by Aegon, Jace toasted his uncle's good health. Recollecting their misspent youths with hope for friendship between them in the future. Alicent’s eldest grumbled in agreement.

Helaena toasted to her little cousin's future marriages.“It isn’t so bad, mostly. He just ignores you. Except sometimes when he’s drunk!” The only sincerity among the farcicality. A round of chortles passed between her grandsire and Daemon. The rest of the guests in attendance wore a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and horror at the princess’s speech.

The mood lightened for a time. Though Naerys remained disillusioned with all that was around. She would not celebrate after all she had witnessed. Shoving the food pushed in front of her aside. Daemon’s eyes softened, but he did not say anything. Merely taking her hand in his to caress the back of it. She could not eat with a heavy half frightened heart.

The king called for music. Dancing commenced with Jace asking for Helaena’s hand which she eagerly accepted. Her husband was more interested in the wine in his cup than his wife who was led across the king's solar by their nephew. Joffrey looked as if he might follow his elder brother's lead with his newly betrothed, but when his eyes met his one-eyed uncle's glare he thought better of it.

All too soon Visery was taken ill by his exertion after the day’s events. Not a moment after he was carried off to bed a pig was placed in front of Aemond. What possessed him Naerys did not know, but Luke laughed at the sight of his uncle’s irritation. Old wounds had reopened. The merriment and masquerading stopped. The pot finally boiled over.

The one-eyed prince called for a final tribute. Raising his glass, an action that his elder brother readily copied, to toast to his nephew's health, before drawling on. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” Daenys let out a little giggle though thankfully Naerys did not think that anyone heard apart from herself. The air became thick with apprehension. Jace dared him to repeat his words, but Aemond was not intimidated by the younger prince. “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

A brawl ensued between the Strong boys and their uncles. Jace threw the first punch, though Aemond did not so much as stumble from it. The dark-haired prince slid across the floor from his uncle’s shove in retaliation. Luke made to get up from his chair, but he was pushed down by Aegon into a serving platter.

Joffrey was to join his brothers, but Daenys held his hand to keep him from the fray. The self-willed Baela had to be held back by her own twin sister Rhaena. Guards had to restrain Jace and Luke as Alicent chastised her son for his lack of restraint, but that did not stop his taunts.

The children had to be sent to their rooms. Aemond would not leave for his own quarters until Daemon made his way over to him. Whispering something unintelligible in Valyrian to his nephew with a slight smirk on his pale brow. The younger prince backed down with a huff of annoyance. Leaving from his father's solar with a lurching gait.

Alicent looked, but Daemon wasted no time in grabbing hold of his wife’s hand. “We are leaving little one.” Her husband bent down to give her a small smile. Naerys felt lighter as he led her back to their own chambers. Imagining the smoky shores of her birth. They should have left Rhaenyra to defend herself, but it mattered not now.

“Uncle.” Rhaenyra called out running after them. One could never get rid of her. She was like a rat clinging to a scrap of wood after a shipwreck. “My father is ill. He needs you. He needs us.” With each word, she sounded more out of breath than the last. “ We can not leave now!”

“Do not worry niece.” Daemon had not slowed his stride as he brought them to a brisk pace. His long legs did most of the work for his wife whose short legs could not keep up. Rhaenyra had height on Naerys but she had grown soft in the belly after Joffrey's birth. She easily grew breathless at their speed. “We will be leaving, not you. You may stay here with Viserys if you like. I think it would do him some good. The Gods know what that Hightower woman has done to him.”

“This den of vipers.” They had finally come to a stop at their guest chamber doors. Rhaenyra wasted no time yanking Naerys' bruised arm to pull her away from their uncle. The younger princess let out a hiss of pain, but she did not notice nor care. Her lilac eyes were overtaken by desperation when she tried to turn Daemon to face her. Rhaenyra failed to take note of the dark look growing on his face or the tick of nerve on the unscathed side of his neck as she continued on.

“You would leave me here? You saw what happened today. They will never stop coming for me uncle. Not unless I give them an heir of unquestionable Valyrian blood. Not unless I have your—” Naerys froze when Daemon gave in to his baser nature. His eyes had blackened over as he reached out a large hand to grab hold of her cousin's neck. Pinning her to the oak door of their chamber. Rhaenyra’s hands flew up to protect herself, but it was too late.

“Yes, Rhaenyra I would leave you here in a den of vipers where you accused my wife of treason.” Rhaenyra clawed at their uncle's hand as his grip tightened. The princess's sputtering coughs bounced off the keeps stone walls. Her face was turning a light shade of blue from the lack of oxygen. “I would leave you here when you continue to make a mockery of yourself at my Naerys expense. At the expense of my marriage.”

Naerys thanked the Gods that there were no guards within earshot as Rhaenyra’s choking grew louder. Thanking the Mother that her husband did not have Dark Sister with him either. She shuddered at the thought of what he might have done with it. “Heavy lies the head that wears the crown Rhaenyra. One could so easily topple under all that weight.” The younger princess remained stock still at her uncle's actions until she realized what he still might be capable of even without his sword.

“Stop.” Naerys cried out. The emotions of the day crashed around her as her pleads began in earnest. “Please kepus, stop. Please. Please stop. Daemon stop!” Rhaenyra may have a childish fixation on her husband, but she did not deserve to be harmed for it. Not at the hands of their uncle who had been in part responsible for her delusions, but she was not so instant either.

“Find someone else to give you your heir's niece.” The Rogue Prince finally released her at the sound of his name on his wife’s lips. His eyes returned back to their violet shade. As he took hold of Naerys hand Rhaenyra fell to the stone floor in a coughing heap. Her throat likely burned as she tried to regain control of her breathing. A red Daemon-shaped handprint graced her pale neck. Though it looked painful, the bruise would likely be no worse than the one she had inflicted upon her cousin-aunt before Ser Vaemond’s fateful petition.

“Do you not think I have not tried?” Rhaenyra crooked out. The whites of her eyes were as red as her neck. Tears bumbled at the surface as she let out a snort. The crown princess turned her bloodshot eyes towards the younger princess with venom, but only briefly before she landed her cloudy gaze on her cousin's husband.

“Even with Harwin. I couldn’t see any man but you. Ao lua īlva hen īlva biarves kepus.” You keep us from our happiness uncle. What pity she had for Rhaenyra disappeared. Naerys let her husband tug her inside with him before shutting the door to their chambers. Leaving her cousin to her misery.

Ao3 Link:

Tags: @misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade @beggarsnotchoosey @m-indkiller @pearlstiare @green-lxght @lazypinkpig @mvrylee

[bohemian-nights]

More incest couple sex ew wtf no gimme Daemon & Mysaria back

Eh, I kinda figured they’d have one more panty-drying “love” scene. That’s inconsequential (especially if he starts beating her ass right after for not “obeying” him, it’s just another day in the life of Daemon Ike Turner Targaryen). Now what is pissing me off is what actually matters, the lack of Nettles.

I am curious though, how will they explain away Daemon sleeping with Alys(I really hope that’s not true) and Miss Maegor not caring(or at least not caring enough to put a hit out on her), and yet Dettles happens and then she tries offing Nettles for the same thing? What changed? What makes Nettles deserving of special treatment? What makes Nettles different?

[bohemian-nights]

Can’t wait to see Daemon running to nettles for every little thing. He wants someone to talk too he goes to nettles, he wants a little laugh he goes to nettles, he wants to drink like a alcoholic he goes to nettles, nettles will not become some random lust thing she’s his safe space and when that letter comes from kings landing for her Head, he does everything to protect her even going to Aemond by himself ignoring His “wife’s wishes” and returning to her. He fell for her HARD, can’t wait to see Dumbyra fans watch.

You and me both anon🙌🏽 Daemon fell so hard for his Netty to the point that he threw all manner of convention out the window for her. It is one of the true romances of the Dance and at this point the only way to make Daemon Ike Turner Targaryen into a morally gray character so Ryan Condal you better not screw it up ☺️

[bohemian-nights]

Daemon: Kills his first wife (I believe this is only show canon) emotionally neglected his second wife and continues emotionally neglecting the children he had with his second wife (once again this is 100% only show canon) he has also abused (choked) and abandoned (after the funeral, the brothel, the wedding, the beach, her delivering Visenya) his third wife (some of this is book canon but some of it is also show canon so it’s 50/50)

Fans: He’s such a “MAle wIfE” “GoALs” “BEst fAThER”

🫠 We can like problematic characters but we must first acknowledge that they’re problematic lol.

Facts. At this point the male-wife thing is nothing, but cope because the Daemon Ike Turner Targaryen we’ve seen so far sure as hell is no one’s male wife.