#daera targaryen

[camilbarnessss]

¤The Dance of The Dragons¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

�� Part 16 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, mentions of murder and death, angst and grief, parental abuse, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated

•••

《 Aemond "The Kinslayer" 》

•••

In King’s Landing, The Hour of the Ghosts has been calm and silent, so far. Most of the servants sleep, the royals sleep. The only ones who should not be sleeping, at these late hours, are the guards and knights protecting The Red Keep.

Nevertheless, it seems as to this is not of Queen Helaena’s knowledge.

The new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms is restless, even though she has her nightdress on and is covered by the warm sheets of her bed. There’s a lonely and weak candle to the right, with a thin fire flame dancing around.

Whilst this fire is reflected on her purple eyes, they are looking at one side of the rooms. To the left of it, her children sleep in their respective cradles. They are quiet and easy, as they always sleep; she can hear their breathing from her place.

Blinkless, Helaena thinks of the fact that they are a year already. They are indeed growing fast, as Claudia told her not long ago. Their legs are longer each day, as well as their white hair and arms. Her children are a bless and a marvel, and beautiful, and hers.

Helaena is yet to wonder and question what the future has for them both, and for the one that now is growing in her belly. But, before she could start wondering about it, she heard two knockings on the door of her chambers.

The Queen parts her lips, immediately taking a seat in her bed. She looks at the door with blinkless eyes, slowly standing up. The girl looks down, the shadow the stands firmly from the other side.

She clenches her teeth, feeling her chest beating fastly while, with slowness, she approaches to the children’s cradles.

-Your Grace!-, she heard a feminine voice calling her. Helaena stops, opening her eyes when she recognized Claudia’s voice.

She let out a big sigh, placing her hands on her chest, and turning to look at her kids.

-You may come!-, her tender voice answered seconds then.

Her main maiden, Claudia, entered to the room, finding her standing in the middle of the room, in front of the cradles of the sleeping children. Ignoring her confusion as to not finding her in her bed, giving the hours, the servant woman spoke.

-Your Grace-, she bowed her head. Helaena looks at her with attentive eyes, blinkless-. Your brother, prince Aemond, has arrived from his errand-. She informed with a still voice.

The Queen feels her chest becoming heavy, as soon as Aemond came to her mind. She meets her fingers over her belly, clenching them with nerves. She remembers the feeling when she saw him off to Storm’s End, and now she’s feeling again. A great uneasiness.

-He has asked for your presence, and that of your family, in your mother’s bedchambers, my Queen-. Claudia informed with a soft whisper, looking at her.

Helaena raises her brows, and open her eyes big, moving them across the room with affliction and confusion.

-Why?-, she simply asked, almost looking as if she didn’t want to.

-I cannot say, Your Grace-. Claudia confessed, not understanding either the sudden reunion on the Queen Dowager’s apartments-. I can stay with the children, if you wish me to-. She proposed, raising her brows.

Helaena wrinkles her lips, looking at them while caressing her nightdress with her soft hands. She started to nod, agreeing with her lady in waiting.

-Please do-, the Queen whispers softly, starting to walk towards the doors. Claudia nods, completely entering to the room-. Beware the rats-. Helaena said while she walked, placing a hand on one of her elbows.

Claudia shivered when the Queen touched her, and furrowed her brows when hearing the weird order. When she turned her head around, she found the Queen already out of the chambers, having left her alone with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

•••

Prince Aemond’s requirements were soon communicated to all of his family. It was just matter of minutes until his whole family was gathered at the rooms of Dowager Queen Alicent.

Ser Criston stands firmly outside the chamber’s gates, guarding the family from his place.

Inside, Otto stands near the doors, looking at the fireplace with blinkless tired eyes. He looks thoughtful and awaken, as if it wasn’t later than the middle of the night. Alicent plays with her fingers in the middle of the room, constantly looking at the ceiling or at the floor. It looks like she’s praying, and never can leave her eyes in only one place while doing so.

Aegon is sitting in one comfortable chair, with his head resting in his hands; he’s half sleep and half awaken, snoring softly with one eye open and the other closed. Daeron stands the closest to his mother, two steps behind her; he’s constantly scratching his eyes and silently yawning, the young prince is tired and was having just a perfect sleep before Ser Criston came to awake him on his rooms.

Queen Helaena stands as far as possible from her husband, in the other side of the room. She’s hugging herself, never speaking and blinking just sometimes., She has just the worst feeling on her chest, making it heavy.

But nothing as heavy as Prince Aemond’s conscious.

The One-Eyed Prince walks Maegor’s Holdfast, taking slow steps while he is on his way to his mother’s bedchambers, where he knows he’s family is waiting for him, just as he asked for.

Though his steps are slow, our prince’s heart beats fastly and with no control; is the only thing he’s listening to right now, almost louder than his thoughts.

He knows what he’s going to say, he just wants to delay it as much as possible, hence his slow steps. “Storm’s End is ours”, he’ll say to them. “And so is the wrath that will come from our enemies, The Blacks”, he’ll then proceed. “I killed Lucerys”, he’ll answered when being asked why.

“Because I wanted to”.

Ser Criston turns his head when the slim tall figure of Prince Aemond turned a corner and appeared walking in the hall.

When Cole saw Queen Alicent’s son walking into the hallway, back from his trip at Storm’s End, safe and sound, he thanked the Seven Gods, but kept his joy to himself.

The knight, blinkless, grabs the door’s handles, and nods towards him.

-My prince-, he greeted, trying to find his only eye, but this was in the floor since he started to walk towards him.

-Ser Criston-. Prince Aemond saluted with a hoarse and low voice.

Cole blinks one time, briefly parting his lips, noticing something off from the prince. A second then, he pulled the doors, and opened them for him. The entire royal family immediately turned their heads towards there.

When Aemond entered the room, he finally looked up. Everything felt like slow motion to him, all of a sudden.

Ser Criston closed the doors behind them, now inside the room too. Otto looked away from the fireplace with expectance. Aegon woke up, breathing deeply and raising his brows, kind of uninterested. Daeron sided a small smile, wavering a hand towards his brother. Helaena wrinkled her lips and remains blinkless; looking like she already knows what he did.

Aemond looks at his sister with his throat afflicted, and gulped, looking forward. And, in slow motion too, he saw his mother, the lady Alicent, sighing with relieve, and staring at him with a growing smile and hands that wanted to hold his.

-Aemond-. Alicent sighs, approaching to him.

Everything moves normally again for the one-eyed. He surrounded his mom’s body with his arms, and gave her a hug that, for his liking, ended too quickly. She stepped back, with raised brows, sighing again.

-Mother-, he whispers, slowly.

-What news of Storm’s End, grandson?-. The Hand of the King didn’t wait for any more greetings, going directly to the point. That made Aemond to furrows his lips, and his family to look at him with interest.

Aegon chews his lips, hiding a yawn between them. Aemond looks at them, and slowly opens his mouth, heading his eye towards his brother, who briefly raised his brows towards him, waiting.

-…Storm’s End is yours-. Prince Aemond declared, with tones as calmed as summer winds.

In that moment, a cheering sigh left Alicent’s mouth. A sided smiled crossed The Hand’s mouth, who nodded with pride towards his grandson.

King Aegon opened his palms, and a smile.

-Well!-, he cheers, giving an applause. Helaena flinched in her place, pressing her lips. Daeron smiles, excited for their notable winning-. They were wise enough, then-. Aegon says with pride and taunt.

-Yes-. Aemond agreed with a low tone, nodding. Helaena stares at him with no end, from feet to toe-. I shall marry the Lady Ellyn Baratheon, Lord Borros’ youngest daughter-. He informed; no joy or hope on his voice.

-Very well-, Otto nodded with pride. Alicent breathes in, forming a smile.

-She must be delightful, son-. The Dowager Queen says with politeness, actually not knowing a single thing about the chosen lady, but she’ll do for her son, she’s sure.

-Lord Borros will send a handful of his men, and by the end of the moon they’ll be established here, in King’s Landing-. Aemond informs with a monotone voice, looking at the Hand, who goes nodding while he speaks-. Three hundred knights, and forty crossbow man-. He starts to count. The King yawns again, rolling his eyes blank-. He’ll agreed to even send smiths, and a dozen-

-These numbers could have perfectly waited for the morrow-. Aegon interrupted him with a lazy voice. Everybody looked at him; Alicent blinked tiredly-. Why couldn’t you wait? Does promise of sleep scare you?-, he makes fun of him, snorting and rolling his eyes.

Aemond presses his lips, softly, taking air with slowness. He blinks, one single time, and feels his heart gaining more weight when he realized that it is time.

-I gathered you here because I wanted you to hear it from me, first than from anyone else-. Aemond speaks with easiness, never blinking, and looking at all of them.

Confusion immediately appeared in their faces, not understanding.

-The knights to come?-. Alicent wondered, siding a smile for a second. He stares at his mother with an expanded pupil-. Well, who else was to tell us if not you, son?-. She questions, honestly puzzled.

Helaena feels her chest beating heavily while she stares at her brother, who tightly crossed his arms behind his back.

-One of the bastards showed up in Storm’s End as well-. He informed with a still voice. Aegon parted his lips, slowly sitting straight on the chair. Alicent opens her eyes big, surprised, and Otto narrowed his, taking slow steps forward-. The small one-. He says.

-Joffrey?-, Daeron furrowed his brows.

-Lucerys-. Otto named within a second.

-Him-. Aemond nodded, blinkless. Alicent’s eyes got a little bigger, staring at him whilst her lips parted-. He was sent to Storm’s End as well, to proclaim his fake queen mother’s words-. He speaks with serenity, blinking, and nailing his only eye on the floor.

Ser Criston, standing by the doors, stares at him with a really curious gaze. Daeron bopped his head to a side, thinking of his half sister’s middle son, the shy one Luke.

-And…-, one of Alicent’s hands starts to reach her own clavicle, grasping it with anxiousness whilst she remembers the clear hate her maimed son has for Rhaenyra’s children, specially the one who maimed him in the first place-…what happened?-, the Dowager Queen smiles crookedly, fearing the answer to her question.

Everybody looks at Aemond, who remained completely silent. He just blinks, only one time, looking at the floor, knowing that his coming words would change a lot of things. He doesn’t know, though, in would in fact change all things.

He thinks of his wife, of how her reaction may be when she hears of the news, which she inevitably will do. He thinks of his family’s reactions. He imagined both their reaction when being told that “he did it accidentally”, making him stand as an idiot, or being told that “he did it on purpose”, making him to stand as a heartless kinslayer.

Things have happened. There’s no way back. He has to choose which way he’ll confess his murder; it will not be the one that will leave him standing like the Targaryen who rides the largest dragon in the world but, alas, couldn’t stop from killing a flea and his teenage dragon.

-I treated the bastard as he deserved to be treated-. The One-Eyed Prince speaks with a calmed voice, yet so bone-chilling, that it sent vibration through Alicent and Helaena’s spines. Aegon started to loosen his brows, while Otto furrowed his-. He was a traitor-, he looks up.

-Was?-, Daeron immediately gasps. Alicent goes pale.

-An insulter-. Aemond mumbles, shaking his head and looking away, clenching his pointy jaw. Blinkless, Helaena starts to open her eyes hugely, staring at his face.

-Did- did you say “was”?-. Aegon questions, narrowing his purple eyes.

-He tried to take Storm’s End-. The prince speaks with quickness and firmness, nodding towards his family.

-Aemond!-. Otto named him, harshly, afflicting his throat. The one-eyed looks at him, cocky and frustrated. Angry-. Where is Lucerys?-, he asked, almost afraid. 

Prince Aemond look at the floor, bopping his head a little. A thousand images flashed before his eye in a second, all of them of Rhaenyra’s sons mocking and mistreating him. Then, the image of Vhagar crushing Luke and his dragon in her mouth; the sound of the dragon cracking between her teeth.

We’re disappointed to point that, when those memories appeared on the One-Eyed’s head, his lips curved into a cocky and proud smirk that shined with evilness. For an honest moment, Aemond Targaryen recognized himself that having killed Lucerys Strong, his tormentor and enemy, brings a great sentiment of power and pleasure to his shrinked chest.

When seeing that smirk on his face, his sister, Helaena, immediately came to the knowledge of something; all is lost.   

-Him and his dragon are gone-. Prince Aemond answered at last, breathing deeply, and finally looking up again-. Their remains, in Vhagar’s belly-. He said, tilting his head.

Helaena gasped enormously, quickly turning around and covering her whole eyes with both her hands. Gasping for air, she almost ran to the outsides of the room, towards the balcony. Aegon’s face nearly fell to the floor; he went speechless, opening both his eyes and mouth hugely. Sleep suddenly left him, leaving surprise and fright on his baggy eyes.

Ser Criston only blinked one time, looking at his pupil with bright eyes of shock and what appeared to be interest. The prince’s grandfather, Otto, became numb, feeling his legs failing him for a second. His chin fell to the floor, whilst his mouth reached for words. Fright is the most obvious in Daeron’s eyes, who breathed fastly and, confused, reached for his mother’s hand.

But Alicent is frozen, with eyes of fear and a breathing of pain. The red-head woman’s eyes began to tremble as if she was staring at a beast from hell, instead of her own son, who quickly became aware of that look in her.

-What have you done?-. Otto whispers, speechless and blinkless. Aemond furrows his lips, keeping his prideful chin up-…What have you done, boy?!-. He asked again, this time harder, making his brows to furrow as well.

-What had to be done-. Aemond is quick to defend himself. Daeron looks at him with terror, shaking his head. Alicent gags, and sniffed, feeling her legs and knees trembling.

-Idiot…-, she whispered with no breath.

Aemond quickly blinks multiple time, not knowing if he had mistaken what she said.

From the balcony, feeling the cold breeze of the night, Helaena breathes fastly, with her hands still covering her eyes, and her head shaking from side to side. Her heartbeat is wild, as well as the scream her mother let out from inside the rooms.

-YOU IDIOT!-. Queen Alicent scolded at her middle child, making her throat to hurt while feeling her chest burning. In that moment, Aemond jumped on his place-. You ruined us, that- that is what you have done! YOU SENSELESS!-, she roared.

-Mother-, he is quick to call. Aegon blinks anxiously.

Alicent gasps and turns around, covering her face while crying behind her hands. She walks away from him, and Aemond followed two steps of her, not liking the way she had looked at him.

Aemond Targaryen…who would henceforth be known as Aemond the Kinslayer to his foes…has returned to King’s Landing, having won the support of Storm’s End for his brother Aegon, and the undying enmity of Queen Rhaenyra. After killing Luke, he waited for both.

What the prince was not expecting, though, was for his mother, Queen Alicent, to look at him the same way she looks at Aegon: with disappointment, angriness, and as if he isn’t worth a single catch of breath. She’s looking at him worse than that.

-The Mother have mercy on us all-, Alicent weeps with true fear, endlessly scratching her own nails and fingers, hurting herself. Aemond blinks, steps behind her, looking at her back with desperation, wanting her to turn around.

Meanwhile, Aegon stood up from the chair, playing with his nails as he watches all with nerves and confusion.

-You only lost one eye-. Otto spoke with tiredness and shock; such a glum on his exhausted voice. His grandson side-eyes him, clenching his jaw-. How could you be so blind?-, he narrows his eyes, shocked.

Aemond opened his mouth, about to speak, but his attention turned when noticing Helaena fastly walking towards the doors of the room, running to her scape with fear and nerves, not looking at anyone.

-Helaena-. He quickly calls, expecting for his gaze to be answered-. The bastard deserved it-, he growled towards his grandfather, who gasped in shock. Aemond plans to follow his sister-. Helaena. Helae…!-

His words were left in the air when his mother turned around to look at him, finally, but only to make his head turn around with the great hurtful slap she slashed against him. Aemond’s whole face burned, while his cheek felt like dripped in boiling oil.

-YOU IMBECILE BEAST!-. The Dowager Queen, with all the pain of the world, yelled towards her favorite son. In that moment, Aegon walked to the balcony, Ser Criston looked away, and Helaena fled the room within a second, weeping on her way. Her brother Daeron was quick to follow-. What were you thinking?!-, she screams, made into a bundle of nerves, and grasping the neck of his jacket to shake him violently.

Aemond’s chest comes up and down. He is shocked, not cocky neither prideful anymore. He’s shocked, in pain by his mother’s curses, punches and looks towards him. Towards him. His only eye started to get teary, forever looking at her with parted lips.

-You just weakened your brother’s place in the throne, and by that your- OUR own safety and secureness, you insolent fool!-. Alicent speaks fastly and angrily; her voice makes echo in the whole room. Nobody is so much as breathing-. The gods will punish you, for this, Aemond! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!-. The Queen screamed with desperation and madness, shaking him with no mercy.

-Mother!-, he gasps, trying to hold her wrists, but not having the bravery too. He is crying salty tears, totally speechless by how he’s being treated. As a monster.

Alicent breathes fastly and trembly, looking at his only eye with a raging fear in her both. She’s looking and looking at him and still cannot believe it; the pain it causes her, that this is her son. She feels betrayed as she had never felt before, and by her own child, the one she trusts the most. She feels like she has done everything wrong. She feels guilty, responsible, for the death of Lucerys Velaryon.

-Ink and paper-. Alicent whispers, with eyes as weak as glass. Grasped by her, Aemond gulps, looking for the love she has always looked at him with; it’s gone-. Get me ink and paper, now!-. She ordered with a shaky voice.

-Your Grace-. Ser Criston immediately leaves for the errand, haven spoken too with a hurried tone.  

-Mother-, Aemond is capable to whisper, doing it weakly.

-I’ll send letters-. Alicent completely ignored him, trembling while speaking, and stepping away from him, heading towards her table-. She’ll read them-, she murmured, as trying to convince herself.

-The council must meet at once-. The Hand of The King mumbled, quickly stepping back, and leaving the room within a second.

Otto left the doors opened behind him.

Alicent arrives to her table, planning to sit and start to write, but her pulse fails. She lands both hands on the table, and looks down with extreme pain. Her lips tremble while her chest aches and her head shakes. She’s speechless; not knowing what the future holds for them now.

Aegon had slowly stepped out to the balcony, constantly sighing and breathing deeply. He looks rather in trance than in pain; still not truly believing or understand that this is actually happening, that his brother killed one of Rhaenyra’s bastards heartlessly and coldly.

Criston had gone to fetch ink and paper. Otto went to gather the council. Helaena had fled the room. Daeron escaped too. Alicent ran to her papers and pens. Aegon stepped away to the balcony.

Aemond the Kinslayer found himself completely alone in the middle of the room, standing as quietly as a rock in a desert would do. He’s moveless, speechless, blinkless and breathless, punched and hurted. He is frozen as the new version of him takes place inside of his body; he’s looked at differently.

He expected reactions, of course, but this is different. After confessing he killed Luke, whether if it was with remorse or not, he turned into another being.

He is a monster now.

And this monster is the one that we will follow, accompany and watch until his last breath. We’ll be his only true companion, from now on; it is sad to say.

Aemond’s doom follows.

•••

“We’ll leave at dawn”, Queen Rhaenyra had declared.

And so, they are.

When the sun started to rise, beginning a new day, three white-haired people walked up one of the highest mountains of Dragonstone, where the fob was so much you could not even see the sea from here, too far away.

Dark Sister swings in Daemon’s belt as he walks with fastness; his closed fists at the sides of his body. With cold eyes, he eyes Caraxes, who shrieked when looking back at him, impatiently waiting for his rider.

Baela walks with the same determination of her father. Standing by his sides, she constantly wipes away tears that reached her cheeks, breathing deeply and trying to keep her mind as clear as possible while she glanced her dragon, Moondancer, ready to have her on her saddle.

Queen Rhaenyra’s long white hair flies in the wind. Out of the three, she walks the fastest, going with trembling knees yet steady steps. Red-eyed and with a stiff breathing, she looks up towards Syrax, her yellow dragon, who lowly grumbled and stepped towards her as well, unquiet and desperate.

Rhaenyra sobs, blinking hugely while looking at her.

-Your Grace!-, a sudden call reached her ears.

The Queen halts her walk, turning around her head with a confused expression. Baela and Daemon barely looked back, and kept approaching to their dragons, hurried to mount them at once.

The Queen finds a White Cloak in the radar of her eyes. Safely away from the dragons, Ser Erryk looks at her with curved brows and a serious expression, having been the one who called her. Rhaenyra presses her lips, harshly, turning around, and walking towards him so he didn’t have to get close to the dragons.

Ser Erryk gulped strongly, looking at the pain of a mother when Rhaenyra approached enough. He looks at her wet cheeks, red eyes, dry skin and hair, bags under her eyes and desperation on the violet of her pupils.

She wants to find her boy, he knows, so he won’t steal much of her time.

-I come to ask for my leave, Your Grace-. He said with a firm voice. She immediately scrunched her nose and brows.

-Your- your leave?-. She repeated with a broken voice, truly confused.

-The princes Jacaerys and Daera, Your Grace-. The knight names, making their mother to quickly blink-. I am sworn to the princess; ‘tis my solemn duty to go and tell her of the news-. He spoke with a stiff lip, blinkless.

Rhaenyra gags as she felt her chest shrinking when thinking of them two, who are so far away, and alone, and away. She gulps harshly, wrinkling her down-curved lips.

-You can’t-. Rhaenyra shook her head, raising her brows. Ser Erryk immediately blinks hugely, not having expected her answer-. You shan’t-. She steadfastly said.

-I must alert them, my Queen-. Erryk whispered with slowness, briefly raising his brows.

-I find nobility in your intention, Ser Erryk, but your Queen forbids it-. Rhaenyra denied with a trembling voice, lifting her chin up while hearing Syrax’s growls from afar-. My son is alive; no one will gainsay that, nor alert anyone with lies spread by the Greens-. She murmured between teeth, holding her rage while doing so.

Ser Erryk understood there was nothing more to speak of the matter. The Black Queen has forbidden him to take his horse and leave to the other side of the world to tell princess Daera, his sworn princess, about the murder of his brother.

The White-Cloak pressed his lips, and nodded, obeying her, faithfully. When seeing so, Rhaenyra takes a trembling step back, clenching her jaw, and turning around with a cold slow blink; she faced her dragons.

And just a few seconds after, Queen Rhaenyra had taken seat on her seat, and with angriness she grasped her saddle’s ropes and pulled them harshly, making Syrax to rise immediately; her husband and stepdaughter quickly followed.

The Rogue Prince, along a raging growl, made Caraxes to jump off the cliff, fastly taking a high place in the clouds along The Black Queen. Their daughter rose in Moondancer’s back, having taken a big flap of wings to take off from ground.

Left alone in the cold foggy mountain, Ser Erryk looked up to the skies with worriness and seriousness. He heard the raging roars of those three dragons up in the clouds, and he shivered when imagining that, were Luke found dead, it would only be a thousand times that burning rage ruling the skies.

Princess Daera’s sworn protector, unable to go and tell her the most hideous news, presses his lips and clenches his jaw while looking at the sky. In silence, he prayed to the Seven so that Queen Rhaenyra would find Lucerys Velaryon hale and healthy, alive.

If she doesn’t…may the Gods have mercy.

•••

Helaena blinks quietly, lightly tilting her head towards a side. Her tender purple eyes are at ease, while her ears hear a distant yet sweet and mother-like humming, making echo in her head.

The dearest, calmed, blinks again.

Suddenly, she finds herself standing between the cradles of her children, and the humming became clearer, almost as if it was coming from behind her. She takes a deep breath, curios, staring at her kids. They are sleeping, for its too late in the night.

Jaehaera sleeps in the cradle at her right, whilst Jaehaerys does in her left, closest to the doors of the chambers which, for some reason, are plainly opened. For another odd reason, Helaena didn’t pay much attention to it.

The humming becomes as closer as sweeter, making her to slowly start to turn her head around. While doing so, she feels a warm hand placing itself on her lower back, sending nice shivers through all of her body. Helaena blinks softly, fully turning her head around, hopeful.

She found Daera standing right behind her, giving a sweet blink and lifting her cheeks into a tender smirk towards her. Helaena immediately gasped, raising her brows when seeing her.

-Daera-, she sighed, as happy as ever.

Her cousin smiles bigger, never stopping her humming. Helaena closed her eyes and felt at peace, suddenly feeling some hair under her hand. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself caressing Jaehaerys’s hair, standing closer to his cradle.

Helaena grins tenderly, looking to her right. Daera stands by Jaehaera’s cradle, caressing the girl’s white mane while smiling at her, as lovingly as always. The Queen sighs, having missed her dear cousin.

“They’re growing so fast”, Helaena thinks. Her children are every day taller, and smarter. Even though they cannot properly talk yet, they understand when asked something; they nod or shake their head, they laugh when they find something funny, the boy more than the girl. They are becoming bright kind children; that’s something to be grateful for.

Daera turned around her head, locking her purple eyes with Helaena’s. They both smirked at each other for what it felt like a heavenly eternity.

Weird it was, then, when from a moment to another, Daera’s humming stopped, as well as her smiles to Helaena, and her mimes to Jaehaera. The brown-skinned princess suddenly looked as if Helaena was having a memory, which confused her greatly, and made her to blink multiple times.

Daera walked her own way, reaching the chamber’s doors and, soon, completely leaving, leaving the children and their mother alone. The Queen furrows her brows, stepping away from Jaehaerys, and heading towards the doors with concern.

But a sound stopped her from following her cousin. A squeaking.

Helaena stopped on her tracks, turning around again. With this, she found rats climbing to the children’s cradle. Their mother frowns, parting her lips and shaking her head with confusion, not knowing where the rats come from, or why they are heading to her kids.

More and more rats started to climb the cradles up, out of nowhere, just in matter of quick seconds. Helaena opens her eyes bigly, placing her hands on her beating chest, and gasping when she hears Jaehaerys and Jaehaera starting to scream under the sea of rats, trying to fight against them.

A scared gasp left Helaena’s tight throat when she sprinted towards the cradles. She couldn’t even see her kids’ faces anymore, for they were under yards of fat hungry rats, who were biting their bones and drinking their blood already when the mother reached them.

Helaena cries with terror, curving her brows and getting her hands all bitten and damaged by the rats. She tries to take Jaehaerys legs and pull Jaehaera’s hand, but they were glued to their beds; they were not applying any force. Helaena screams, not hearing herself.

They were dead.

.

Helaena woke up within a second, raising from her bed and taking a deep and desperate breath of air with her mouth fully open. All disheveled and with bags under her eyes, she shivers time after time, blinking sour tears away.

The sun from her balcony let her know it was morning already, an easy and silent one. She cared not.

The Queen jumped from her bed, barefooted, and ran towards her children’s cradles. Breathless, she looks at the both of them.

And they were there, the two, tenderly and relaxingly sleeping, not aware at all of their mother’s heavy tears and breath. She stares at the both with big eyes, making sure they were real, safe and healthy. They are.

Letting out a big sigh, Helaena felt her knees shaking weakly. She gulped, and looked at the doors of the rooms. They are closed.

Slowly, and tense, she then stares at the secret passageways of the chamber, which is also closed. For now.

•••

The more the day advances, the hotter its sun gets. And yet…they haven’t come down.

Syrax, Caraxes and Moondancer have flown around the skies of Storm’s End maybe a thousand time since they arrived, which was when the sun was still coming up.

Their red, yellow and green scales reflect the daylight as they flap their wings and look from left to right and from right to left with their great sighting. Alas, they haven’t sighted what they are looking for.

Signs of Luke.

Hiding behind the tall gates of his castle, at the highest place of Durran’s Point, the Lord of Storm’s End yells to his guards to keep their spears up, yells to his girls to hide under their beds, and prays to the gods with fear so that those dragons wouldn’t slash their anger at them.

Lord Borros is scared, every knows, but the man is yet so proud and unbreakable that he sits his very throne and grasps it with great force, waiting at any for second to Prince Daemon to cross the gates of his Round Hall, and take his head with Dark Sister.

But, currently having his mind off the Lord that took part in Lucerys’ murder, Daemon employs his concentration in rather looking at the salty sea and the brown sand at the beaches below them. His jaw is forever tense, whilst the under of his eyes are slightly red.

Flapping her wings faster than the Blood Wyrm, Syrax growls as she shakes her neck, and feels a heaviness on her chest. Rhaenyra feels worse. With the wind blowing her sweaty long white mane, and tears constantly blurring her sight, the Black Queen is rarely blinking, endlessly sighting the seas and the lands.

It is a pity to say that she even dared to look higher than her, to the skies, hoping to see Luke and Arrax approaching to them with quick flaps, waving a hand in the air, smiling, and letting her know that he is completely fine, that what she was told were lies.

But she hasn’t found him, not in the seas, nor in land, and much less in the skies.

Flying the closest to Caraxes, Moondancer soars between the clouds while growling lowly, always looking down for what her rider is also looking for. But her rider feels strange.

Baela is highly weak. Last night, after hearing the news of Luke’s assumed death, she and her parents argued until sunrise and then fled to Storm’s End. They have been flying for hours and hours, under a hot sun, between heavy clouds. She hasn’t eaten or drink anything for nearly a day now.

Daemon’s middle daughter fights against her exhaustion, forcing herself to keep her eyes open, and to keep looking for her dear brother. But her blinks are slow, her throat dry, her tummy empty, and her skin burning. She shakes her head, trying not to think of it.

-Luke…-, a whisper left her lips.

And, after not bearing the possibility of him being truly dead, Baela gave up to her senses, and fell unconscious. Her body gets loosen on her saddle, making Moondancer to immediately shriek with loudness, quickly stabilizing her wings so that her rider wouldn’t fall.

As soon as hearing Moondancer’s cry, Daemon turned around his head, and pressed his teeth tight when seeing Baela’s dragon fighting to keep her on the saddle. Thankfully, she’s wearing her belt, for she even got mentally ready to fight Vhagar in the skies.

Daemon didn’t lose a second, quickly taking action. Caraxes whistled with hurry, giving a swift turn and flying towards Moondancer with big flaps. The red dragon’s nose skimmed the green’s head, and she shrieked, shaking her head and following the command.

The both of them started to descend, heading to land.

Flying the highest, Rhaenyra looked down after hearing the fuss. She narrowed her eyes, fixating her red gaze on Moondancer. When noticing Baela’s loose body, Nyra furrowed her brows and parted her lips with worriness.

Soon, Caraxes and Moondancer landed in the same place. Even before his dragon reached land, Daemon quickly stood up from his saddle and nearly jumped from it, breathing heavily. While Caraxes whistles and shakes his long neck, Daemon ran down his red wings, rapidly reaching the ground. He didn’t stop running, and headed to Moondancer, who didn’t seem to welcome his hurry and approaching.

Moondancer opened her mouth and growled towards him; Daemon stopped and clenched both his fists and teeth, desperate. But, only seconds them, Caraxes rose behind him and, with great power, opened his big mouth and roared towards the younger smaller dragon.

While his red dragon defends him, The Rogue Prince kept approaching with the same hurry as before. Moondancer folded before the dragon of her rider’s father, and allowed him to get close to her. The green dragon bends her head, intimidated, as if she was asking for forgiveness. Caraxes only whistled.

-Baela!-, Daemon’s acute voice yelled her name with hurry.

Meanwhile, some steps behind Caraxes, Syrax arrived and landed too, growling. Rhaenyra was quick to take off her belt and walk down from her saddle with quickness, never driving away her scared eyes from her husband and step-daughter.

-Baela…-. When Daemon reaches Moondancer’s side, he finds his daughter completely fainted, pale and sweaty. With her arms loose at the sides of her body, she breathes with slowness; her lips are dry.

The Rogue Prince curves his blond brows, gulping strongly. Internally scolding himself for not paying attention to her before, Daemon starts to take her off her saddle, carrying his daughter on his firm arms. Moondancer purrs lowly, now understanding he’s only trying to help her.

Daemon turns around and begins to walk, with Baela tucked to his chest. When seeing the scene, Rhaenyra halts her trembling steps and curves her brows, hasping for air.

-Baela-, she nervously named, worryingly touching her pants’ fabric. With cold eyes, her husband walks towards his dragon, jaw clenched-. Take her home!-, her trembling voice said.

-I am taking her home-. His cold voice answered while walking up Caraxes’ wings with firmness, and then his eyes stared at her-. We are-, he pointed.

-No-. She immediately shook her head, looking away. Daemon hisses, opening his mouth, but she spoke before he could-. I haven’t found him!-. She quickly declared.

-Neither will you, he’s dead!-. His cocky and high-pitched voice answered with anger. Rhaenyra afflicts her throat and looks at him teary eyes; she shakes her head, not believing it. He tights his teeth, carefully placing Baela on the saddle. Caraxes purrs lowly, accepting the girl with no problem-. He is dead, Rhaenyra-. He says, softer than before, slowly walking down his dragons’ wing.

-I am the one to declare that; not you, Daemon-. The Queen denied, talking as firmly as possible, with red cheeks and pale lips.

-Aemond Targaryen already declared it, when he chased Luke with that hoary old bitch Vhagar-. He says between teeth, full of anger.

Just by picturing the scene, and her poor little child, Rhaenyra shook her head, with her lips trembling, and turned around, heading back to her dragon. Anxious, Daemon clenches his fists and looks madly at her.

-You are losing time, you are wasting it while they shit on your throne!-. He loudly yelled, opening his eyes big.

-I NEED TO SEE HIM!-. Rhaenyra faced him again and screamed with a mother’s rage, wrinkling her own chest. Daemon breathes fast, blinkless-. What if he’s scared, a-alone?! In all of this?!-, she ponders, looking all around.

Daemon remains in silence, not believing the incoherence she’s saying. She truly believes she has been lied to, and that her son still lives. But he knows truth, he can feel that he is not around anymore. Luke was his son too.

-The children need you-. He mutters, nearly with no emotion, looking at her painful eyes. Rhaenyra sniffs her nose, thinking of all of her other kids, but she shakes her head, not letting that to change her mind.

-So does Luke-. She whispered, convinced. The Queen turns around, whilst her husband stuttered, seeing her go-, more than ever…-her voice trembles while she approaches her dragon.

-Rhaenyra-. He calls her, but she starts to take her mount-. Nyra!-, he insisted.

-Take Baela home, give her water, food, and…! And do not let her come back-. Rhaenyra ordered, trembling and serious, sitting on her saddle. Daemon opens his mouth-. Neither you do-, her voice declared.

And after this, Syrax flapped her wings, and left land, heading back to the skies again. Now alone. Caraxes whistles lowly, looking up at her with narrowed eyes.

Standing on Caraxes’ wing, Daemon has his fists, teeth and jaw clenched with pure tension. He mumbles under his breath, staring at Durran’s Castle with great thirsts of blood and fire.

The Rogue Prince forces himself to blink, turning around, and cursing for the hundredth time on the day the name and life of Aemond “One-Eyed” Targaryen.

•••

This new morning is a silent one, in King’s Landing, of all places, which is known by its loud savage people. Differently than in other suns, they are silent now, waling with caution and looking at every corner before turning it.

The deaths caused by the red dragon Meleys still keep the subjects with grief and mourn. Even more than that, fear.

While Flea Bottom solves their own problems, the prince Aemond walked out of his room for the first time in the day. Every guard turned to look at him, as well as every lord, lady, maid, servant and ratcatcher.

It it’s the obvious. Everyone knows.

The prince goes as always, with a nice black leather fit, his black leather patch, his hair perfectly combed falling on his back, and his resting face of a man who does not care nor listens to what the others say about him. Today, to be honest, this is quite challenging.

Aemond’s walk is firm while he goes through the hallways, but he can feel every pair of eyes scrutinizing him, equally from behind that from the front. Nobody is pretending; they are all looking at him with incredulity and fear.

-He killed her son…-, a whisper said.

-Queen Alicent’s greatest son my ass…-, another one said.

Aemond twists his lips, pretending not to hear anything at all. Why is he to care? The ones mumbling about him are little and littler than him. No ones. That thought bring some peace to him.

-Monster-, a maid muttered.

-Kinslayer-, a Gold Cloak did too.

Aemond starts to burn from within, unconsciously beginning to walk faster, suddenly wondering why these halls are so fucking large. The people around him noticed his hurry, and a common word came to their mind: pathetic.

The prince’s mind turns its attention to someone of the small council who he suddenly saw walking towards that room. The Master of Laws, Lord Wylde, heads in silence towards the Small Council, for they’re about to have a meeting.

Deciding that he should attend it, just to know his brother The King’s further plans of “action”, Aemond started to walk the same path as Lord Jasper, to his unknowing, being followed from afar.

Soon, the guards opened the doors for Ironrod, who walked into the Small Council with easiness. Seconds later, Prince Aemond planned to follow the same path, approaching to the doors with cocky steps.

He expected the guards to open the doors for him. But, when noticing they were as still as a rock, he furrowed his brows, confused. He tsked, and decided to just do it himself. But, before he could even touch the door, one of the guards spoke.

-Halt, my prince-. He spoke.

The one-eyed looked at him with coldness and confusion, not understanding the restriction.

-You cannot attend the Small Council’s reunion, my prince-. The other guard denied, and the prince looked at him the same way: bothered-. Queen Dowager Alicent’s orders-. He cleared, looking away from him.

It was like a bucket of cold water being abruptly thrown to him, only that by his own mother, which makes it ten times worse.

Aemond is left speechless and blinkless, staring at the door. It is impossible to describe how insulted he fell, left out and ignored. And by her. By Alicent? This…this is so wrong.

Slowly, Aemond turns around, not directing one single word to the guards. His expression is cold and still; he starts to walk again the same way he came from. Everybody still looks at him; they know, they know, they all know.

How fast is word spread in these places? The whole of the Red Keep knows, maybe half of King’s Landing does too now. It is only matter of time until the news reach Dragonstone, if indeed it still hasn’t.

Aemond feels his heart sinking deeply on his chest, deeper than when he last saw Daera, when she ran away from him in pain and sorrow. Oh, he feels worse than that time, way way worse.

And this hasn’t even begun yet.

•••

The North is always The North. Coldness is, of course, expected, as well as heavy gray clouds and bone-chilling winds. However, we must admit that the change of both view and ambience of going from The Neck to Winterfell, was not subtle.

Who would have said that snow clouds would be so beautiful from the inside? Crystals of frozen water shined before the eyes of our princes, which sincerely took out more than two or three smiles from their lips.

Kalistrox and Vermax, after hours of straight soaring and flying in the high skies, are finally reaching their stop. At last, they have brought their riders to Winterfell, who will treat with its formidable young lord, Cregan Stark.

Daera breathed in with her eyes closed, feeling the cold air almost freezing her nostrils. That made her to cough and wrinkle her nose. She turned her head with amusement, finding Jacaerys already laughing at her from the distance. The princess rolled her eyes, smiling, and then commanding her dragon to fly faster.

Husband and wife looked down when the town appears before them. It is big and formidable, just as the books and maesters describe. Jace’s brown eyes shined with marvel, ashamedly exciting for seeing Winterfell for the first time in his life. The circumstances are not reason to cheer, of course, but the studying prince couldn’t help it.

Daera looks from over her shoulder for a few seconds, easily noticing the illusion on her brother’s eyes. She giggled a little, lowly, knowing that he would have a reaction like this when seeing the ancient town. It’s also her first time in The North too, so she has to admit some excitement herself as well.

And, while the princes think about their curiosity up there, the common people of Winterfell yelled, cried and ran with terror and despair when they looked up to the skies and saw those two dragons soaring in their skies and vanishing away their clouds with their huge winds.

Not having a single idea of their visit, you see, the whole town got scared and intimidated, quickly running for protection under a roof. As if dragons couldn’t burn wood. Thankfully, the occasion is not for doing so.

Able of hearing the cries and screams, Daera curved her brows and laughed softly, lifting her chin up with pride. Jacaerys chuckled as well, getting a tight hold of Vermax’s ropes, and making him to fly a little more apart from the town. Closing her smirking lips, his wife followed.

Soon enough, Kalistrox and Vermax found themselves landing in a snowy not-to-tall mountain that was well than enough apart from the people and their fear. The hill trembled a little, but it did a good job in giving the dragons a good landing.

The Golden Ray, though, growled lowly with disgust, looking to the strange and uncomfortable feeling on his paws. Snow. He shows his teeth with irritation, until he hears his rider’s laugh, which made him to direct his attention to her.

-I know, my boy, I know-. The princess sighed while taking off her belt. She immediately noticed Kalistrox’s disliking of the cold beneath his paws and claws.

-Vermax doesn’t like it either…-, a soft mumble left Jacaerys’ lips. He caresses his dragon’s neck with a little pity, silently asking for forgiveness. Vermax only purrs lowly, closing his eyes and shaking his head a little.

Sighing, Jace turns his head around. Daera did the same, finding him staring at her. They smiled at the same time and, too, started to walk down from their mount.

Both princes look fresh and clean, to the contrary of last night. As we remember, Daera found herself in the middle of an attempted attack from the crannogmen; five of them. She was alone, and without her dragon. She murdered the five of them, coldly and cruelly, we might add.

When prince Jacaerys found her soaked in blood and hand-held with the upper body of one of the men she killed, he got no explanation of what had happened, not until a while after. With her lips stained by heavy blood, she just smirked at him, and walked away.

Daera headed back to the lake, informing that she was to take a bath. For reasons of privacy, he stayed, walking around with beating nerves and worriness. For his tranquility, Kalistrox remained with her the entire time, also soaking himself in the river while his rider’s naked body got calmly cleaned by herself.

It was then, when she returned to the camp with clean skin and a change of clothes, that Daera explained to him what happened. When hearing her telling, Jace went pale, and couldn’t believe that he was so neglectful when being up in the skies. A thousand and one times he asked for forgiveness; a thousand and one times she told him it wasn’t of need.

With all of those bloodied and dead bodies, the dragons had a proper meal both at night and in the morning. The only thing they didn’t eat were the pack of bollocks from the men; Daera and Jace found them disgusting and didn’t allow their dragons to put their teeth in them.

-It was a quick flight, was it not?-. The princess asks with narrowed eyes as they walk, looking up to the grey clouds that conquer the skies.

-I thought the same thing-. Jacaerys nodded, walking side by side to her, looking at her face instead than to the clouds-. I may thank my company for it; time flies when I am with her-. He confesses sweetly and funnily mumbling.

Daera presses her lips, shrinking them into a playful smile, turning her head to look at him. Purple and brown eyes stare at each other silently. Slowly, they stopped walking, a little far from their dragons now, but very close to each other.

The confessions of last night make echo in both their heads; Jacaerys’ pure love for Daera, and her convincement of him being the right choice. He smiles a little, and she does so too, finding warmness in his stare in the middle of the cold.

-Shall we?-, the prince questions within a mumble, cocking his head towards the rest of the mountain, pondering if they should walk their way into the town.

-They already know they have visitors-. Daera shook her head, prideful and funny-. Let them treat us as so-, she shrugges. Her husband chuckles lowly, agreeing.

-We wait then-, he nods, calmly looking at her eyes.

Daera blinks one time, slowly, staring at him. Soon, she puts her attention in the prince’s hair. It looks like the winds of winter did something to his mane while they were flying deeper into the North, for his hair is all curly, disheveled, and falling to the sides of his face, almost reaching his shoulders.

The princess laughs, raising a hand and ruffling his hair playfully. Jace sighs heavily and closes his eyes.

­-Is it a complete mess?-. He tsks, not even wanting to know how messy he looks.

-It looks better than you may think-. Daera smiles while passing her hand on his mane, looking at it. Jace sighs through his nose, feeling her touch.

-My hair is not familiar with these winds-. The prince spokes softly, his eyes a little narrowed due to the breeze around-. Only with Dragonstone’s, I fear-. He speaks.

-Hmm-, she agrees with a soft mumble, nodding and moving his curls with curiosity from side to side-. Change could be good-. The princess lifts his chin up, smiling. He starts to copy her, admiring her purple eyes-. You could keep your hair like this, like mine-. She smirked, prideful.

Jacaerys hums a low laugh, liking her words. He stares at her for some silent seconds and, then, in the same silence, he raises his hand and between his fingers he grabs a strand of white curly hair from hers.

Daera parts her lips, looking at him while he serenely caresses her hair and looks at it with a soft thoughtful expression. The princess breathes slowly, feeling his tender touch, and also remembering his words from last night.

Unbeknownst to her, she looks like she’s almost drooling, staring at him with both confusion and sweetness, lost in her mind. She can’t help but to think of how she has been feeling with him, these days of late.

The princess is finding great comfort in the company of her husband. Her fake husband. She and Jace have always been close of course, we know that, but as sister and brother. Lately, there has been more between them, way more; the list is crowned by last night confessions, and how he ate her in The Vale.

Daera gulps and, in that same very moment, both their dragons start to lowly growl, notifying them about possible menace. Still holding her strand of hair, Jacaerys lifted up his face and looked above her shoulder, eyes narrowed.

-Our host is here-. He informs with a serious tone, slowly letting go her hair.

With graceful moves, Daera turns both her head and body around, and looks in the same direction. Standing closely, side to side, the couple stares at a handful on horsed men riding towards them. Three of them are knights, the other two wear dark fine clothes of fur. They’re followed by two horses who are riderless, a brown one and a white mare.

-We shall meet them then-. The princess sighs, feeling Jace’s hand placing itself on her lower back. They started to walk. For a brief second Daera turns around her head, still hearing her dragons’ growls-. Kalistrox, Lykiri (Kalistrox, calm down)-. She raised her brows towards him.

The golden dragon seals his mouth, still grumbling a little. He kept quiet, but didn’t draw his eyes apart from his rider, as neither did Vermax, who watches Jace’s every step.

As their staying is supposed to be a brief one, the princes carry their luggage in bags that hang from their shoulders, nor to big or small; convenient for their flight and carrying just what they need.

As they walk down the hill and get away enough from the dragons’ reach, Daera and Jace see how the riders are getting closer. The man that leads them is thick and big, with long brown hair and a sword so big that you could see it from far, even though it’s sheathed behind his back.

The knights carry a very distinguishable flag with them. That of the howling wolf of House Winterfell. The princess’ purple eyes watch as the flag flutters in the cold wind around them. She interlocks an elbow with one of Jace’s, who accepted her grip with a stronger one, humming lowly.

At last, they all arrived. All being incapable of not doing the same: to look at the top of the hill, where a huge golden dragon and an ill-tempered green one stare down at them without a blink.

The three knights stay behind, whilst the other two men stopped their horses at a considerable distance, and then jumped off from them.

-Greetings!-. Jacaerys was the first to speak, standing firmly. By his side, Daera’s lips twisted in a little smirk, watching those two men approaching.

The man to the left is a slim tall one, of soft features and splendid posture, dark hair combed to the sides of his head, and sleepy yet awaken blue eyes. He seems welcoming enough, gifting a quick smile to the princess when he walked away from his horse.

As to the other man, this one is shorter than his companion, but bulkier, thicker, and clearly stronger, His big complexity is covered by infinite layers of fur. He may be brown-haired, but there are some lighter strands that make him look almost like a redhead, almost. He is young, older than the two of them but still young, and possesses eyes as gray as the clouds from the above.

On his chest, the sigil of a wolf clearly tells who is who here. The grey-eyed is no one else than the young Lord of the North, Lord Cregan Stark.

-My princes-, his voice welcomed them hoarsely but kindly, bowing his head just as his friend did at the same time.

Jacaerys keeps a straight expression, eyes soften. Daera is not known for keeping anything to herself, so she’s not trying to hide the cocky smirk on her lips while seeing the handsome lords bowing their heads to her. Oh, Baela would melt if she were here.

-I am Cregan Stark, at your services, my princes-. The strong one speaks with firmness, looking at the both of them.

-Lord Cregan-, Daera immediately nodded, naming him with respect.

-May I present Lord Robard Cerwyn as well-. He pointed at his friend, who bowed his head a new time.

­-My princes, it is a high honor to make your acquittance-. His honeyed voice greeted them with true welcoming, which made the princes to feel easier every second.

House Cerwyn, of course, the closest and more noble vassal house to the Starks. Castle Cerwyn, their seat, is only half a day from Winterfell, so its no surprise that Lord Cregan asked for his companion’s presence to welcome the princes of the realm.

-My lords, it is our honor-. Jace speaks well mannered, nodding towards them-. I am prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and this is my wife-. He turns his head to look at her, reassuring the grip on their locked shoulders.

-Daera Targaryen-, she presents herself with humbleness, nodding towards the both of them.

-Princess-, Robard Cerwyn, one more time, bowed his head.

-My princes-. Lord Cregan does the same, for both princes, who look at him with kind small smiles, feeling the cold wind blowing their manes, which are now both curly.

The oldest of them must be Lord Cerwyn, looking the more mature, but the four of them are clearly around the same age, young and in the springtime of life. Prince Jacaerys, no doubt, is the youngest.

The knights from behind are still constantly looking up, fighting so hard to not be mouth-opened when eyeing towards the legendary beasts that watch them from the top of the mountain. It is, of course, the first time for all these northers seeing a dragon. Two, at that.

-Last night we received a raven from Lord Manderly, noticing us in advance of your upcoming visit-. Lord Cregan informs. Daera and Jace share a quick silent look; they know the raven only did so, and said nothing more. No one knows, nor even imagines that they are here because King Viserys is dead, and the Greens usurped the throne.

No, as he said, Lord Cregan believes this is just a humble and warm visit from the princes of the realm.

-We shared a nice supper with him, a night ago-. Daera comments with a little smile. Cregan closes one, nodding at her.

-From Heart’s Home to Winterfell in such little time-. Lord Cerwyn points out with honest curiosity, crossing his arms on his chest. The princes look at him in silence-. No greater pleasure than to see the world, I agree-. He laughs to himself.

-We think the same, my lord-. Jace joins him in a few chuckles, nodding. Daera sighs through her nose, discreetly, eyeing Kalistrox for a second. Lord Cregan watches her in silence, looking at the white curls that fall over her shoulders and back.

The white-haired princess thinks how they cannot lose a precious second while being here. They’re being subtle, yes, because they know the North is a place to really be serious in, but they canna lose time.

-Shall we mount?-. The princess suddenly proposed, charming, and raising her brows towards the riderless horses.

-But of course-, Lord Cregan is quick to nod, stepping to a side and pointing the way to her with an open hand.

Lord Cerwyn breathes in deeply, quickly heading towards the white mare to hold her on her place. Lord Cregan was swift too, checking her saddle alright. And Prince Jacaerys walked behind his wife closely, guiding her with a hand placed on her lower back.

All of the gentlemen hurried to help her, which took out an honest smile from her lips. Her husband offered her a hand, which she took with firmness while Lord Cregan held her saddle tightly for her.

Easily, Daera took seat on top of the white mare, who let put a soft whinny.

-Thank you-. The princess nods towards them. After seeing she was well stablished, the men headed to their own horses. Jacaerys walked towards his, the brown one, while looking up at her. Daera chews a smile, looking at him from feet to toe-. Hello, gorgeous…-, she mumbles, caressing the mare’s ears with kindness.

-We shall head to the castle now-. Lord Cregan informs, mounting a thick black horse, as dark as the night. Their horses all start to go back the way the came from before.

-Very well-. Jacaerys nods, running a hand through his curly hair, combing it to the back of his head, but it was still a mess. A mess that his wife glanced at with a sided smile, truly digging the new look of him.

The three knights now head the way, mounting their horses.

Low beastlike growls reach their ears, making Cregan to turn his head towards the top of that mountain. Thinking nobody was looking at him, he did not hide his awe, looking at there with parted lips and glowing eyes, admiring the dragons from above.

Having seen him, Daera starts to form a smile and them chews it, hiding it a little. She will never get tired of people’s impression when they see a dragon for the first time. These days have been full of those reactions, from the kids in Heart’s Home to Lord Cregan’s own open mouth.

-We hope we did not…alarmed your town, my Lord-. Daera speaks after moments of silence, turning to look at him.

-If we did, we apologize-. Jace is quick to say, raising his brows towards him. Lord Cregan starts to shake his head with softness.

­-My wife ran and hid under our bed-. Lord Cerwyn amusedly confesses, riding his horse with a cocky smile. The story made the princes to laugh, Daera rising her brows with a funny pity.

-Then we do apologize-. The brown-haired prince smiles at him, humorous but still truly apologetic.

-No need, my prince-. Lord Robard denied with simpleness.

While they ride, Daera takes a moment of silence to stare around where they were passing through. It is not currently snowing, but everything is hidden under layers of soft white snow, which almost glows under the light of the sun that comes through the creaks of the clouds. The tall trees, the black rocks and small hills.

She is barely arriving, but admits to herself that Winterfell is genuinely beautiful. She is used to warm places, ones of sun, seas and grass. This place is quite different to King’s Landing, to Dragonstone, to Driftmark…to Pentos, even.

When Pentos comes to her mind, a person does too, inevitably. In her head, she sees Aemond. That sent immediate shivers down her spine; she gulps, feeling her mouth getting dry, and it is not because of the cold.

The reminisce of him forcing her to drink the Moon Tea, just a day after blessing Alyssa’s name, make her to shiver again. She thinks of his brother, Aegon, too. The fake King.

She thinks in everything that has happened in the spawn of just days. Alyssa, Viserys’ death, the stealth of their throne, Visenya, Luke having to fly alone to Storm’s End. Everything screams danger, and ill times.

Oh, and she doesn’t know yet…

When Daera achieved to come out of her thoughts, she became aware that they have left the mountains behind, and that now they are riding in the very same town they flew over before. She parts her lips, quickly paying attention to them.

There’s no one who is either hiding or dissimulating their interest and mistrust when looking at them. They look at them from feet to toe, their lifted-up chins and leather clothes. The woman of long curly white hair and noticeable purple eyes; a Targaryen beauty in all of its glory.

Jacaerys rides his horse with pride, looking at the people with easy attentive eyes. He thinks about how, one day, he’ll be King to all of these who are looking at him. The thought makes him both nervous and pride. But more than that: hopeful.

Daera is looking back at everyone, analyzing their different faces of cold eyes and strong features. Though most of them are not, she smiles, wavering her hand towards some kids, who saluted back at her within giggles and blushed cheeks. She chuckled, and most of the people know to appreciate her beauty, mesmerized by the white hair and purple orbs.

-I am the one to apologize now-. Lord Cregan speaks with certain uneasiness, riding between both princess, who looked at him with interest-. My people are not used of visitors from so far, you see-. He explains, looking down at his subjects with serious kind eyes.

Daera blinks with curiosity, easily noticing the great respect that they look at their young lord with. She smiles to herself, liking that.

-Nor that gorgeous, I’d wager-. Prince Jacaerys speaks coquettishly, eyeing his wife from the sides of his eyes.

To our surprise, Daera opened her mouth in shock, though she quickly tried to hide her expression, and just cleared her throat, looking away with a pressed smirk. Jace looks at her with a sided smile, playing with his horse’s saddle, and then looking forward too.

Lord Cregan and Robard, close friends, shared a discreet funny look, having noticed the princess’ flattered face.

Soon enough, they arrived to the seat of the Starks, the castle of Winterfell. They rode their horses into the patio, where they found a lot of people walking from here to there, adults running errands and kids playing around, dogs barking and cats hissing at them.

Jacaerys narrows his eyes a little, having expected a more organized welcome, but finding amusement in all the things happening at once. His wife, however, didn’t even think in the need of a royal welcome, laughing when she saw a kid throwing what it looked like cow shit to his brother.

-Dear gods-, the princess smiles, looking around.

Cregan’s horse stopped walking as soon as he jumped off his saddle, firmly landing on the ground while looking at his people with pressed lips and kind of reproaching eyes.

-Heavens-, Lord Cerwyn sighs, coming off his hoarse too. He sees princess Daera finding the people entertaining, while prince Jacaerys softly smiles at them.

Unbeknownst to the princes, the young Lord had left them as organized as possible. But, nevertheless, the heart of Winterfell never stays still, which was clear when, after the Lord left to fetch their visitors, a wind blew away one bed sheets a handmaiden was hanging. After that, all is history.

-Well, at least they do not seem offended-. Robard mumbles discreetly to Cregan’s side. Lord Stark grumbles, looking at the princes, who certainly seem more than fine with the multiple ongoings of the patio.

-Apologies, princes-. Lord Cregan heads to them, walking firmly. Still on her saddle, Daera looked down at him and smiled-. We are in the-

-No, no need-. The princess shakes her head with amusement, whilst her husband came off his hoarse, caressing his face-. A royal welcoming was not of need-. She assured.

Lord Cregan closes his lips and nods silently, thinking to himself that, as to now, the princess hasn’t proved to be some of the things she is described as. Gorgeous and charming, yes, but not mad as her father. Well, some people lie, and some not, especially about the royal family.

-This is better!-. Daera giggles, moving her legs to a side of the mare to came off it. Jace quickly starts to approach, but she didn’t see him, and easily jump off of her own with no problem. Jace stops and pretends to look around with interest, whistling.

Cregan raises a hand, signaling a call towards some people; two handmaidens start to approach to them.

-You must be tired, after such a sojourn-. Lord Stark speaks with manner, interestingly watched by prince Jacaerys.

Looking over her shoulder, Daera waves a hand towards a group of young adults who were looking at them. Shyly, they smiled and answered, making her to grin. There will not be a day where she does not enjoy to share with commonfolk.

- Perhaps you would like to step into your accommodations, my princes. A warm meal is on the making-. Cregan continues to speak, looking at the both of them, having noticed the princess’ nice “hello” to a few of his subjects-. Would you like that, my princes?-. He questions.

Jacaerys looks at her, and she automatically does too, cocking her head along a closed easy grin. They looked at each other for three seconds, and that was enough to decide that they wanted the same.

-We would-, the princess speaks their agreement.

Cregan nods with a little smile. The two servants he called before arrive to them, bowing their heads towards the princes and the lords.

-Fetch the princes’ luggage to their bedchamber-. Lord Cregan orders.

-Oh, thanks-. Jace quickly nods, giving them her bad, as well as Daera did, the both smiling briefly to them. The women bowed again, turning around and heading to the insides of the castle-. We thank you, for the hospitality-. He speaks to the lord.

-No need for so-, Cregan gently shakes his head.

-We will get stablished, then-. Daera informs with raised eyebrows, gripping herself to her husband’s elbow again. He breathed in, feeling her body’s warmth in the middle of the coldness.

-Then, we can talk politics-. The princes raised his brows as well, speaking lower than before. Cregan nods slowly, understanding that now there’s something to talk about.

-Very well, my princes-. He nods-. I’ll order your fetching to the dining room in around an hour, if you agree-. Lord Cregan informs.

-Perfect-, the white-haired princess agreed, and her husband did too in a silent nod.

-Then get comfortable, please-. Cregan mannerly speaks, pointing forwards-. If you would be so kind as to follow Telio; he’ll guide you to your rooms-. He gently asks.

They see a fat young boy waiting for them with a sort of a nervous expression. Jacaerys and Daera nod to the lords, and start to head towards the boy, who started to guide them with silent steps.

Watched by everyone, the princess followed Telio into the insides of the castle, soon finding dark walls and torches in every step they’d take. Fair enough, for the darkness that it can grow in the North, and not only at night.

While walking though a hall, keeping a distance with the guide, Jacaerys suddenly caressed one of Daera’s arm, and then interlocked her hand with his, caressing her fingers.

That made the princess to rise her brows, turning to look at him with a growing smile.

-You are feeling romantic?-. She questions tauntly, narrowing her purple eyes.

-You now know I am in love with you-. Jace narrows his eyes as well, playfully. Daera parts her lips, sighing with a dumbness she wasn’t aware of-. There’s nothing to hide anymore-. He mumbled, walking even closer to her; his arm skimmed one of her breasts.

-Huh-, Daera lets out a single laugh, faking surprise-. Do not be so explicit in front of Telio-. She whispered funnily, winking an eye.

The princes laughed freely; they rocked their hands while their chuckles echoed around the whole hall.

Until the news only we know about reaches Jacaerys and Daera’s ears, they are to be the only ones that we will get to see smiling and hear laughing, for a time.

We shall cherish it, while we still can.

•••

[murmel-malt]

Daera and Viserys presenting baby Rhaenyra to their father Baelon.

a doodle to accompany this Hedaera snippet

[bl00dlight]

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● more carpet munching, graphic language, general smut and filth, implied homophobia, age gap, dubious consent, violence against female character, heterosexuality, Aemond being depraved as fuck and lowkey the worst, oedipus complex, full blown targcest, mentions of Madame Sylvie (sorry yall), Alys Rivers being a trick ass bitch, not proof read

Word count ● 4.7k

Author's Note • Long awaited. It's finally here. Holy fuck it's actually... like insane how long this took for me to dwell on. I'm not gonna spoil anything but this one is a bit gross. In a good way. Sick sick sick.

Masterlist / Ghostly Flame ● Part I

Part II

The sight on the Prince Regent's bed was indeed, not a mere dream. He stammered as a flood of emotions suddenly whipped against his skull.

As he entered, Aemond's face darkened and the breath in his lungs all but vanished. Hs let fist slowly curl, though his eye was transfixed on the two women, watching as his paramour's mouth moved against his sister's skin. Despite it all, the disgust and rage that was brewing; for a brief moment he enjoyed the sounds and sight before him.

And yet, Aemond knew it was but a vile sin, a betrayal of both his bedmate and beloved sister. Still, the sight stirred heat within him.

Alys continued in her ministrations, her tongue moving with precision, seeking to please and to tease the princess. The witch was so engrossed in the task before her that she hadn't noticed the door or the figure which loomed in the shadows.

The sounds of his sister's mewling was enough to drive him over the edge. The prince clenched his jaw, he stalked towards the women and spoke, his voice ringing in the quiet of the room. "Alys."

Just like that the sounds of their pleasure had come to a deadened stop. Slowly Alys pulled away, and turned towards Aemond. Daera opened her eyes with a flash, her body jolting with fear and suddenly the humiliation rang true.

Aemond's own heart was hammering in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts he had never dared admit aloud.

"Tell me," Aemond whispered, his voice rough and low. "Do the both of you take me for a fool?"

Alys bowed her head and spoke gently, "My Prince, I..."

"Silence." Aemond sneered, stalking towards Alys. His fist soon met with her raven hair, gripping at it as he forced her head up at him. "I have had my fill of your vile tongue."

A silence brewed before he suddenly shoved the woman back to the ground. Alys winced as he body hit the floor with a startling thud. Daera shook, her hands in her head as she had pulled the sheets upon her bare flesh out of modesty. It was comical, still she seemed to care of propriety, even though her own brother had seen her in such a state.

Aemond grunted, raising a hand up as though he was to strike the woman before him. Alys stayed deadly still upon the ground, gritting her teeth, awaiting his hand to make contact with her flesh. Though he felt his rage stir he swiftly pulled his hand away. He could not strike her, no, instead he launched and gripped her arm, forcing her upon her feet.

"You dare humiliate me? You dare bring such shame upon me? Defiling my own blood, my sister! Upon the very bed I let your treacherous head lay, no less!" Aemond's lonesome eye was narrowed in a maelstrom of emotions, anger, betrayal, jealously, humiliation.

Yet in truth, he felt one thing; weakness.

Alys glared at him, speaking oddly calmly, "Of course not, your grace..."

"Then speak, bastard! Speak on the sight before me... of you upon my sister and why my eye was witness to it! Speak to why you... why you dare go against me, after all I have done! I spared you, or do you forget?" The prince gripped her flesh sternly and his gaze faltered as he felt sorrow bloom.

Daera looked away, she couldn't bare the scene before her. Couldn't bare what she had done, she hadn't even known what led her to do it. She had no excuse, no reason. It seemed to have happened before she had any idea it was occurring.

The princess wiped her tears, her heart aching. "Brother..." she muttered weakly, sorrowfully.

Aemond turned his head sharply, "I SHALL HEAR NOTHING FROM YOU!" He snapped at Daera, forcing her back into submission.

His gaze came to Alys once more, whom at this point was holding back a low snicker. Her hands came to his chest, and a low hum was earnt from the prince at her soothing ministrations.

"You are not so tempting as to distract me. I see you for what you are... a snake in my own den." He lowered his tone, as his hand came to her raven locks and gripped them.

Alys gave him an incredulous look once more, "You... you do not mean such things, I have been nothing but faithful, my prince."

"Yet your mouth was upon my sister? You think that faithful?" Aemond retorted swiftly, fastening his grip.

"I... I do not deny how such may seem an act of betrayal. But it was in service to you, your grace." Alys flinched as his hands laced themselves in her hair forcefully. Her voice still measured.

"Do not dare speak such folly-" His temper flared as Alys spoke over the Prince.

"It is not folly... I have brought her, swayed her senses so they may receive what is so deeply suppressed within her. She had not come for me, my prince. She came for you." Alys' voice like a siren song, she let her hands run to his cheeks. Gently stroking at his sharp features.

Silence beckoned for a moment, as Aemond found himself lured by the witch's words. Her eyes gazing with reverence upon him, yet there was a glimmer of something else. Something she had seen.

Slowly, Aemond's grip upon her hair eased flattening to cup her head, "What do you see?" He muttered, his eye scanning her carefully.

Daera's sobbing had eased now, and she watched with baited breath as her brother and the witch spoke before her. She noticed the tilt of Alys' head the low chuckle as she leaned in to Aemond's ear, muttering something unknown.

There was a noticeable shift, the sharp line of his jaw hardening as he eased into her touch. Daera caught a low hum from him, an inquisitive one as Alys nodded.

The prince turned to his sister, her trembling form. No doubt her mind already a place of torment for her. His gaze scanned over her pale flesh, silver hair - so much like his own. Though she looked more like their mother in her features. Melancholic round eyes, full lips; a soft cherubic face. She was a woman grown and yet, still appeared so much like the docile girl she once was in their youth.

Aemond leaned down, his silver hair catching in the moonlight as he gazed upon his sister sternly. His hand gripped her wrist.

"I ought to punish you." He said firmly.

Daera instantly weakened at his words, her head tilting, tears streaming as she simpered, "Brother..."

His hand suddenly clasped her cheek, silencing her whining, "Do as I say."

The Princess's eyes searched his lonesome one, her gaze coiling in uncertainty. She shook her head, disturbed by his sudden change of demanour. Her heart thundering as she knew whatever was to occur, was something she ought to be fearful of. She felt the need to beg, to plead for forgiveness. Though she remained still.

"I do not blame you, for failing to resist my Alys' charm. You are but a woman... you stand little chance against her, for even I find my resolve wavering in her wake." He slowly rose to his feet, and Alys came to him, slowly unstrapping his leathers from his chest.

"You are not... mad with me?" The Princess whimpered, squeezing her nails into her palms. Allowing the pain to distract her from her shame.

"What Alys has seen.. changes the matter." Aemond spoke with a new found clarity, though there was a bitterness that lingered upon his tongue.

Daera shook her head in response, she looked at Alys, whose hands were upon his breeches, unlacing them. Before she could continue he pulled her hands away from him. "No." Aemond muttered, slowly turning to his sister.

Daera found herself trembling once more, her eyes watery, desperately searching for answers as she whispered, "Seen what?"

It was the uncertainty in her eyes which made Aemond look away, his gaze narrowed upon the ground as he mumbled to Alys, "I cannot..."

The witch let her hands cup his face once more, soothing the fear he felt within him, "You can... and you will, desire has sown it's seed long bef-"

Aemond swiftly gripped her wrists, interrupting her, "Do not presume to know of my desires! She is my sister..."

The raven hair of Alys fell upon her pale shoulder as she turned to face the princess before her. Aemond's eye wandering for a moment upon her bare flesh... her breasts.

Daera looked into the green landscape of her eyes, flashes of them lingering between her thighs caused a spark of shame within the princess and she looked away. Alys chuckled softly, turning back to Aemond.

The witch leaned in, her hands coming back to his jaw, one slowly trailing down his neck. She hummed, smiling softly as Alys whispered to Aemond, "You are the blood of old Valyria, your grace... fire courses through your very flesh. A fire I have felt lick at my womb and that shall lick upon hers..."

Aemond's gaze met his paramour's in an intense exchange of understanding and trepidation. Though he was soothed by her gentle touch upon him, soothed by the wisdom her foresight granted him. She was right, it was not as though he held no desire for his sister. He had merely suppressed it. Why long for something that shall never be his to keep?

Their mother never sought to the betroth them, so Aemond simply focused on matters of duty; of becoming a formidable force in battle. Though he could not embrace Targaryen tradition entirely, he sought to expand upon it in other ways. He would seek to become a fierce dragonrider. A man of skill, for his legacy would be his own.

As he gazed upon his sister, he felt the sudden urge to comfort her. The tears that rolled upon her cheek meant for a greater challenge. He would not force himself upon her, but he could not deny the fire set ablaze in his blood when his eye wandered her flesh.

She was to be his destiny it seemed... and if Alys' vision proved true, the mother to his true born heir.

He stalked towards her, and once again found himself reaching over. As he extended his hand to cup her cheek she flinched, and Aemond merely persisted.

Daera however, was not so much aware of what Alys and Aemond spoke of. If anything she was still mortified by the fact her brother had seen her indulge in such sin.

Her gaze widened at the feeling of his palm upon her fleshy cheek, "Please... forgive me...I know I have tainted myself in the eyes of the Gods, but you must let me seek absolution from you. My resolve has grown weak, I see it now... I..." The princess mumbled, fanatically searching her brother's stoney gaze as he watched the trembling of her lips.

Silence beckoned, and Aemond remained still. His eye scanning over her, his thumb rubbing against the plushness of her cheeks. Her eyes that wore sorrow so beautifully, just as their mother's does. Large, comforting eyes... for a moment he felt a sense of boyish peace dawn upon him. Remembering how once, Alicent would gaze upon him with concerned filled eyes.

Though he had not spoken to his mother in many moons now, could not bare the sight of her. It was in Daera's simpering expression he found a small sense of comfort. She was but a piece of home. Though his youth was not always a happy one, there was peace. There was... a familiarity which made him wish to crawl within his sister's arms and pretend nothing bad had befallen them.

"Brother..." She whimpered, begging for him to say something; pulling the Prince from his thoughts.

Daera's eyes were caught by the familiar saunter of Alys' bare frame. She came to Aemond, leaning down as her thin, pale fingers tucked his silver hair behind his ear. Gently she cooed, "Go on, my prince... take what is yours."

With that Aemond glanced briefly and Alys, and then slowly looked back upon his sister. He moved now, shifting his weight to crawl upon the bed. His hand still gripping at her cheek, and the other now finding her waist, pulling her from the sheet and forcing her before him.

Aemond gazed softly, tentatively, at her. His hand moving to her silver curls; her hair so similar to her mother's. His fingers twirled a strand delicately, as though it were made of glass. He suddenly brought his face near her, his cheek grazing hers as he buried his nose within her locks for a moment. He breathed in, closing his eye. The familiar sweet smell of honeysuckled flesh filling his senses.

The princess was in complete shock, she had never known such affections from her brother before. Her eyes widened, her gaze meeting Alys', who came to the bed, sitting at the end as she removed Aemond's boots. Soon, her pale hand reaching over to stroke Aemond's hair gently. The princess furrowed her brow, positively unfurled by the scene before her. Her tears had all but come to a halt, not for the fact shame had left her, but for the fact she was overwrought by the absurdity of it all.

Aemond pulled back slightly, and both he and his sister let out a sharp breath. Her eyes wide, watching him carefully as he gently grazed his nose upon her cheek. His hand coming to her lips. Lips which were too, like Alicent's; swollen and quivering.

His eye, narrowed upon her and he caught her discomforted demanour. His fingers moving from her lips to cup her cheek as he muttered, "If it is absolution you seek, then let us not allow what transpired to be in vain. So, do as I say."

Daera though confused, did not protest. She nodded and heard her breath catch within her throat as he hummed slightly. Aemond brought his other hand to her cheek. A look of determination filled his eye though he seemed conflicted.

His gaze locked upon her lips, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to touch her. Though he knew not how to. Aemond grunted again, unsure of himself. An awkward tension rose as he stammered like a boy. The Prince huffed, looked down as humiliation coiled in his belly. He felt weak, he felt the fool.

He had, in truth never been with a woman as young as Daera. Though she was but a year younger than he. She was unlike Alys... unlike Madame Sylvie. Both of which had known the ways of initiating pleasure. He had never had to worry of such things, for both women brimmed with the confidence only within a mature woman, to take charge. Neither were coy, nor demure. Neither stuttered nor flinched when presented with his desire. Neither seemed so... shocked by his forwardness, nor hid behind maidenly virtue, nor looked upon him with judgement. They were women whom he felt safe with, secure with. He did not have to wear the mask he had crafted so precisely for himself. Did not have to act with the hard faced confidence of a man. Aemond could be unsure, with Alys and Madame Sylvie. He could let go of his masculine fortitude and be a boy once more.

But this was not the case with Daera. He could not help but find the judgement in her eyes, enraging. Already he thought of the million ways she may be laughing or repulsed by him. Already he thought of how she would reject him if he were not willing to do as had been taught men are to do. Take charge.

He could not falter with her, could not be seen as weak.

"Alys..." He muttered lowly, his head turning slightly as to call his paramour to guide him.

The witch continued stroking his hair, cooing softly as she gave him a knowing look, "As you would me..." Her voice soft, knowing he would understand her implication.

Aemond gave a small nod, his gaze then returning to his sister. A look of determination yet also... fear in his eye.

Daera had watched the interaction transpire as though she were but a mere spectator in her body. It hadn't felt real at all, it all seemed like an elaborate dream, and betwixt the moonlight and shadows of Harrenhal, he wasn't fully convinced it wasn't.

The princess found herself sharply returned back to reality as the feeling of her brother's breath upon her neck made her flinch. His fingers gently moving the strands of her silver curls away, before the soft and warm sensation of his lips met her neck.

Daera went to protest, but was met with the cold palm of Alys upon her other cheek, her fingers lacing in her hair as she pulled the princess' head to one side. Exposing more of her neck for Aemond to place his lips upon.

Alys smiled softly and gently stroked the coil of worry lines upon Daera's face.

"That's it." The witch lulled gently, slowly encouraging Daera to lean into her brother's touch. To which the princess slowly raised her hand to Aemond's silver strands, her fingers coiling into his scalp, earning a low groan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of his lips moving up her neck, his hands now moving upon her bare body, falling between her plush breasts, down onto the soft planes of her belly.

It was not long before she felt Alys' lips press into her own, a small whimper leaving the princess.

It was that sound which egged Aemond further, he kissed up Daera's jaw, hoping to siphon more of those sweet sounds from his sister. He felt the familiar touch of Alys upon the band of his breeches, already unlaced. Her cool hand shuffling them down, before reaching in, palming his stiffened length. The sudden feeling of his paramour's hand upon him made him groan. Though he swiftly pulled away from the soft flesh of his sister, his head turning to Alys' sharp face.

"I shall do it myself." His words a quiet yet sharp command.

Alys conceded and resumed her position behind him, gently she stroked his silver tresses. Slightly annoyed by his barking at her tonight. Though she supposed he probably still seethes over her seducing Daera so easily.

The princess was terribly lost in the moment. She had eased to her brother's advances and slowly, his hand came to move her head towards his and pressed into hers gently. Daera whimpered and he pulled away, catching a breath. It was with that kiss that her blood had been set ablaze by him. Suddenly, her hands reached up, catching his cheeks in her palms and attempting to force her lips back into his.

Aemond, pulled away slightly, if not only to tease her for her eagerness, but also to remind him he must remember she had not ever been touched by a man. She was unwed, a mere maiden and similarly to him, probably starved for affection.

A dark desire bloomed as he noted her pleading gaze, a sense of control he did not get with his older lovers. It felt good to be the one whom was bestowing another with affection. Filling a lovelorn void with her that he himself shared. He found her stammering endearing, familiar in a way.

He pulled back again, if not to see how her pretty face coiled in desperation. Just as his would. His hand moved to the back of her hair, gripping her strands roughly, her head tilting back before he spoke lowly, "Tell me you desire it."

Daera's eyes beamed with a sudden awakening desire. Her cunt growing warm, as she whispered, "I desire it."

Aemond's jaw clenched, his voice soft, "Do you want me?" His eye wide, expectant.

Slowly, the Princess let her hands move into his hair as she furrowed her brow, as if he had to ask, she thought. Her voice equally soft, needy, "Yes, brother."

It was those very words which set his lips to hers again. He forced his breeches from him, Alys aiding. Aemond let his knee pry Daera's legs apart, his hand moving to finally touch what he knew would already be ready for him. His fingers grazing her wet core, just as their lips upon each other grew far more intensive in their ministrations. Daera was again, shocked by how wet everything felt, and his fingers sliding between her cunt made her mouth open slightly as a moan left her.

He pushed her down, and his head turned to guesture for Alys to get behind Daera. The witch did so, moving so that her legs were parted where Daera's head lay between. Aemond looked down upon his sister then up at his paramour. His eye narrowed as he let himself slip a finger into Daera's entrance.

A sudden moan left the princess and her hands gripped at his upper arms, she found her head tilting back as a simpering gasp left her. His other hand guiding her knee upwards as he pushed two fingers within her. Slowly stretching her. His eye caught Alys again, who herself had seemed to find the ordeal so pleasing, her own hand worked upon her. He watched as she circled her cunt, then slowly fucking herself with her fingers. Though Daera hadn't noticed, she was too busy writhing beneath Aemond as his fingers had grown terribly fast.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling his fingers from her, his gaze still harsh upon Alys as she pleased herself. His jaw clenched as he had remembered the sight he had walked in upon.

Daera found herself letting out a small whine as he had stopped, she looked up at him, when she was met with his hand clasping her cheeks. Aemond spoke with a swift determination in his tone, "You will tend to Alys as I ready you."

Daera had opened her mouth to speak before Aemond interrupted, "Turn around."

With that, Daera had found herself most shocked, though slowly, hesitantly she turned to her belly and moved towards Alys.

Aemonds voice rang in the thick silence of the chamber, "Tell her what she might do." He said lowly to Alys, his gaze too busy scanning the vast expanse of Daera's pale back, her plump rear and fleshy thighs.

Alys hummed, titling her head, her hands coming to Daera's cheeks to pull her forward, "I shall take the girl's mouth." The witch spoke smugly, her hand pulling at Daera's hair as she lowered the princess' lips to her cunt. "Slowly, my pet..." Alys cooed. "With your tongue."

Daera all but whimpered as her mouth met the soft, delicate folds of Alys. She was not sure how to go about it, but she started with slow, languid licks, hoping she might gauge where Alys was brought pleasure. The witch hummed and chuckled with pleasure, her hips slowly circling as she pressed Daera's mouth upon her cunt further. She instructed the princess lowly, and soon Daera was using her tongue to circle Alys clit, winning groans from the older woman.

Aemond had found himself oddly transfixed by the sight, his paramour instructing his sister. It was as though he was watching himself in a way. Though the sight of the two woman before him, was far more thrilling than he had anticipated. Alys' head tilted back, forcing Daera to move quicker, and Aemond slowly pryed apart her thighs. His fingers finding Daera's soaked core.

He grazed her clit, winning gentle moans from her as his other hand kneaded her rear. Alys, moaned again, her peak dawning as she cried, "The prince watches us... sweet girl. He watches with reverence."

Her words sparked a quick hum from Aemond as he found himself focused on Daera again. He leaned down, his chest pressed upon her back as lewd sounds of the two women filled the chamber. He moved his sister's hair to the side, exposing her neck and back. Aemond pressed gentle kisses into her, his hands trailing her soft flesh.

As he went to kiss her again, Alys had pulled Daera's hair harshly, forcing Aemond to lose his grip slightly. He looked up at his paramour, watching as she rolled her hips on his sister mouth, chasing her endless peak.

She was indeed a woman of great fortitude, but this was not about her pleasure. This was about legacy, this was about himself and his sister... and their duty to House Targaryen. Aemond's hands wrapped around Daera's waist, suddenly pulling her away from Alys' cunt.

The witch's eyes opened swiftly, and she gasped. "Your grace?!" She barked, almost like a mother would towards her child.

Though Aemond paid little attention to Alys as he laid Daera down upon her back again. "You've had your fill." He muttered.

The raven haired woman scoffed, "So I get nothing then? I brought you the girl-"

Aemond raised his hand, his tone aloof as he gazed down upon Daera. "Leave us." Aemond spoke lowly to Alys, he was too transfixed on the way Daera had brought her hands to his cheeks.

"My Prince..." The witch begged. Alys let her gaze grow wide and discontented.

"Hm.." Aemond looked up to the older woman, his gaze unwavering, stern, "You may go."

It only took one disgruntled look from Alys before she gave a nod, biting her tongue as she moved away from the bed. She dressed herself once more and left without any protest. After all, she was but under his mercy.

The silence in the room was startling, Daera's eyes widened, and her hand came to Aemond's eye patch, though he forced her hand away. He did not say another word as he settled between her legs. Aemond moved her hand to clasp his length, guiding her hand up and down to ready himself.

His lips met hers as he moved her legs to wrapped around his hips, and slowly, Aemond let his cock graze her folds. Both of them moaning at the sensation. He felt his resolve weaken, and with that, he pushed into her entrance ever so slowly. Giving her time to adjust to him.

Her core tight, so tight he felt himself wince as he tried to push further. Daera squeezed his arm making him force her hands to his cheeks. "Calm yourself." He said lowly.

Daera obliged, she closed her eyes, trusting the sensation that currently stung with pain would soon dissolve and it did. He eased himself into her, and Daera marvelled at the sound he made when he had finally pushed within her. All that could be heard from her was a deep gasp, her head tilting back. As he rocked his hips, fucking her slowly, her hands laced into his hair and his face buried into her neck. Daera suddenly began to moan softly, wantonly as the sensation became more and more pleasurable as her core loosened. She began to feel herself relax, and he slid in and out of her with ease. Aemond at this point was all but lost, he kept moving into her, his hands cupping her face as he moved between his face in the crook of her neck or kissing her harshly. His moans growing more intense, their names flying from the other's mouth. Panting and cursing filled his chamber, alongside low growls as he relished the feeling of her warm cunt upon him.

"Sweet sister..." He grumbled, nodding as his peak was soon to come. "Have me." He said, almost sweetly against her flesh. He wanted to bury himself in her, hold her tight. And that he did, their bodies flushed firmly against each other and Daera had instinctively began to rock her hips against his.

She moaned, grappling at his hair as she whispered, "Aemond... my brother..."

It was her soft coos which triggered him to come fiercely within her. His seed causing an odd warmth to spread within her. As the moment diffused, the heat between them had caused both of them to become flushed, panting gently as they lay entwined upon the bed. The shadows enclasping them both, yet in their arms both found a sense of peace. Daera coiled into him, her head resting upon the top of his.

Aemond laid upon her, letting her arms wrap around him, her soft flesh against his taut frame felt like bliss. He breathed out, speaking softly against her skin, "Alys... she.." Aemond stammered breathlessly against her neck, leaving small kisses.

Daera raised her brow, her hands coming to his hair, gently grazing his silver tresses. The moment felt beyond intimate, she felt a strange tie to him. One that had been all but lost to their distant youths.

He let his hands gently carress her face, his cheek nuzzling against her own as he whispered softly, cooingly into her ear,"She see's a silver haired boy upon the throne... a boy who comes from the flesh of two dragons. The mother... a great beauty, the father... a feared warrior. Of darkness and light, joined by a ghostly flame of longing. Separated by time, brought together by blood. It is us... sweet sister. Alys sees us."

[humanpurposes]

We're Born At Night

Chapter 1

Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone travels to King's Landing to plead for her sister's life, though the King she must bow to is a kinslayer three times over, and the very man who slaughtered her father

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Rhaelle Targaryen (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, politics, mentions of death and war

Words: 4.3k

A/n: a self-indulgent post-dance fic and I'm excited about it :)

She rocks with the carriage as it rolls over the cobbled streets of King’s Landing. Bricks and tiles in dull shades of red, yellow and browns move past the window, and the air is thick with dust and all sorts of unpleasant smells. 

Her heart sinks at the absence of greenery, like the forests and fields that surround Runestone, the sounds of rivers and streams, the bright bursts of colour in the wildflowers. The Red Keep overlooks Blackwater Bay, she remembers that. She loved rising early to watch the sunrise, to see the waves glow red and gold. She loved going down to the beach below the castle to feel the warm summer sun on her face and dip her toes into the cold water.

It is autumn now. Grey clouds dull the sunlight and there is a chill in the air.

Daena sits opposite her, tugging at her sleeves and the collar of her travelling cloak. They are in matching gowns of dark green velvet, newly made for their visit to court; a cheap play for the King’s favour, but she needs all the help she can get. 

Her younger sister’s constant fussing is irritating, but Rhaelle cannot blame her.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” says Morra, Rhaelle’s handmaiden who sits beside her, a sharp and observant young woman.

Daena’s harshly violet eyes glare up at her. She gives a small huff and drops her arms into her lap. “I look better in red,” she says.

“Careless talk like that will cost you your tongue the moment we’re through the castle gates,” Rhaelle warns.

Daena tuts and turns her head towards the window. “What an awful place,” she says.

Rhaelle pulls back the thin curtain with the tip of her finger. Miserable faces, crowds of bodies, market stalls, bands of mummers, and an endless array of buildings pass her by. She has prayed to the old gods and the new that their visit to the Red Keep will be short, but that is wishful thinking and she has never been much of an optimist.

Ten years ago she had been hunting with her late mother’s cousin, Ser Gerold, when a raven appeared over the hills, headed for Runestone. It had filled her with an inexplicable dread and she could not understand why until she returned to the castle to learn of the death of Laena Velaryon, her step-mother. Daemon had summoned his eldest three daughters to Driftmark to see her laid to rest and mourn alongside two sisters they had never met. In a matter of days, Ser Laenor was dead too, Daemon had married Princess Rhaenyra on Dragonstone, and had plans for three more marriages.

Their oldest sister, Alyssa, and Prince Jacaerys were married at the Red Keep little more than a month later, she being sixteen and he a boy of ten. Baela was betrothed to Prince Lucerys, and Rhaelle was betrothed to Prince Joffrey, only a babe at the time.

While Rhaelle and Daera had returned to Runestone, Alyssa had remained at Dragonstone with her husband and so her fate had been sealed.

They come to a gatehouse made of red stone, where the banners of House Targaryen loom proudly over the walls and flutter in the breeze. The sight sparks a memory Rhaelle had forgotten she had, and suddenly it feels like she never left this place at all. Her family’s sigil, the three-headed dragon, should be more familiar to her than it really is. She finds more comfort in the colours of white and bronze, black pebbles and the ancient runes of her mother’s house.

She looks down at her own sleeves, at the runes embroidered into the cuffs with golden thread. The right reads the words of House Royce: We remember. On the left though, is a saying far older, so old that no one can truly say where it came from, only that it has been passed down in proverbs amongst those who carry the blood of the first men. Now they are written in books and scripture, carved onto tombs, whispered in prayers said before a weirwood, spoken to her by her mother: Learn to die.

Did those words pass the lips of Rhea Royce when she fell from her horse and cracked her head open on a rock? Did they echo through her mind when she lay in her bed, either unconscious or incoherent for nine days?

Does Alyssa utter them to herself in the darkness of the Black Cells?

The carriage comes to a stop. Rhaelle takes a deep breath, checks that her hair is neatly pinned back, that her gown sits right and that her boots are spotless. There can be no room for weakness here, not where people will judge every move she makes, note every word she says and stare into her eyes as if to read her very thoughts.

The door is opened for her and she steps out into the courtyard clutching the hand of one of her household guards.

Lord Corlys is waiting to greet them by the steps to the castle, dressed in fine robes of sea green and silver. On his collar she spots a gleam of gold, the pin that marks him as the Hand of the King. 

When she had last seen Lord Corlys he was the Seasnake, a naval hero who carved out his own legacy and built his seat of Hightide to fill with the trophies of his victories. Now Hightide is nothing more than ruins buried in ash and Lord Corlys is an old man leaning on a cane, with long silver locks, a thick white beard and a tired look in his eyes, the look of a man who has seen his last war. 

He offers her a small bow of his head. “Lady Rhaelle, what an honour it is to welcome you to the Red Keep.”

Daena follows her and greets Lord Corlys with a perfect curtsey. He smiles and notes how much they have changed since he last saw them, but they were girls then, young and sweet, only grieving their first loss.

Morra takes their travelling cloaks before Lord Corlys leads them inside, followed by their household guard. The halls are quiet and solemn, the colours she remembers from childhood somehow duller and she wonders if it is because she is older.

Eyes fall to the sisters easily and whispers echo wherever they walk. She hears a faint whisper of “traitor” as they come to the great stairwell in the very heart of the castle. She looks around her and above, up into the cavernous space overhead where faces peer down from balconies and galleries, made hazy by smoke and heat from the braziers.

Traitor, the accusation clings in her stomach and throat, until Daena’s hand gently wraps around her wrist and urges her to walk on. But perhaps the whispers are right. She is the daughter of a traitor, the sister of a traitor, perhaps it is in her blood and she cannot escape it.

They are shown to their chambers in the west wing of the castle. A small reception room joins two privy chambers and two bedchambers beyond that. It is a pity, she would have liked a room where she could see Blackwater Bay or the Kingswood to the south.

Her bedroom is a little smaller than her own bedchamber at Runestone, decorated with tapestries, furnishings and details in green, gold, red and black. She looks from the window, over the towering walls of Maegor’s Holdfast of her lavishly decorated prison, a thought which she immediately reprimands herself for. She will not allow herself such pity, not while her sister is a prisoner.

Alyssa had stayed by her husband’s side through the war, donned a widow’s veil when he fell in battle and decided that she would stay on Dragonstone when Rhaenyra took King’s Landing.

The war went on. Alyssa's letters stopped abruptly. Word came that the commonfolk had revolted against Rhaenyra, and her own betrothed, the boy Joffrey, was slain in the fighting.

Then came the raven from King Aegon. Rhaenyra was dead and their remaining siblings had been taken captive: Little Aegon, Baela, Rhaena, and Alyssa. She can still the words scrawled onto the parchment: “She has been treated with no unnecessary cruelty.”

Aegon wouldn’t have dared lay a hand on Baela and Rhaena, not with Lord Corlys on his small council. Alyssa had no such protection, not with their father rotting alongside the corpse of the dragon at the bottom of the God’s Eye.

And now the man who slaughtered him wears the crown.

Lord Corlys has invited her to dine with him, in his chambers in the Tower of the Hand. Daylight fades swiftly into twilight as she crosses the courtyard that her bedchamber overlooks, past the lowered drawbridge of the Holdfast. With winter approaching, the days are growing shorter.

A servant of Lord Corlys’ leads her up a single flight of stairs, through a reception room and into a small dining hall. The table is set with fine silverware and glass cups, lit by flickering flames of candles and a blazing hearth. Lord Corlys sits at the head of the table and rises to meet her. She offers him her hand, and he presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Is your sister not joining us, my lady?” he asks.

She smiles politely. Daena fears for Alyssa’s life as much as she does, but she is not meant for the delicacy of a negotiation.

Her place is set to his right and as she sits he pours her out a glass of wine. “From the Summer Isles,” he says. “I could never understand why anyone would bother with the stuff that comes from the Arbour.”

“We are lovers of ale and cider in the Vale,” Rhaelle says, “but I trust your taste, my Lord.”

They raise their glasses to each other and take small sips as two servants bring in plates of beef, bread and butter, and roasted vegetables. They move like shadows between the candlelight, their footsteps light, their movements gentle and unobtrusive. They are gone as quickly as they came.

When the door is shut, Lord Corlys leans forward with his elbows on the table and his hands clasped together. He says quietly, “I intend to put your matter to the King in the morning.”

Rhaelle places her glass down on the table, her hand lingering on the base. Sadness suddenly strikes her heart. “You mean you have not spoken to him at all?”

“I have told him you seek to improve your position, and the position of your younger sister, of which he has been supportive.”

“But what about the matters we have discussed?” she asks.

His eyes are distant, settled on nothing in particular. He reaches to take a roll of bread from the table, but he does not eat it, he simply places it on his plate. “Lady Alyssa is an admirable woman, truly. She reminds me much of Baela–”

“Not admirable enough for you to appeal on her behalf,” Rhaelle says sharply. “I only wish to see her returned to her home, to Runestone.”

“In the eyes of the King, she is a traitor to the realm. She challenged the true line of succession.”

“As did you,” she says, “at the start of the war, you pledged your support for Rhaenyra.”

“Aye, I did, for the good of my family, and the cost was great.”

“Greater than siding with those who killed your wife?”

Corlys looks to her with a grave expression. “And Aemond killed your father, but you have come to his court, in the hopes of lobbying him, to plead for his mercy and his favour.”

But that’s different, isn’t it? Her father was a rare presence at Runestone, his name hanging over her head like an unspoken secret. He did not come to lay his first wife to rest, but he had tried to claim her inheritance and had no difficulty condemning their daughter to a marriage that would tie her to a war.

“I just want my sister to be safe,” she utters.

“I want that too,” Lord Corlys says and she can almost believe him.

“When can I speak to him? When will he release her?”

He takes a slow breath. “We must approach this matter with caution,” he says, “and it will be worth your while. Many say Aemond is a far more reasonable man than his brother was.”

“You served them both. What do you have to say on Aemond’s reason?”

A sad look falls over his face. He looks the way he did the day his daughter was buried. “Aemond is just, in his own way, but the Targaryens have always ruled with fire and blood, and he is no exception.”

When she returns to her bedchamber, she finds Daena curled up on a chaise by the dying hearth. 

“She wished to see you after your dinner with Lord Corlys,” Morra mutters as Rhaelle fetches a blanket from the bed and drapes it over her sister. “It has been a tedious few months, and I do not doubt she is tired after the journey from Runestone.”

As a child, Rhaelle often wondered if she and her sisters had been born cursed. They had inherited nothing of their father’s looks save for his violet eyes; three Targaryen girls with dark curls and the stern face of their mother. Daena has always had a softness that she and Alyssa never had, a fuller face, a smaller nose, slight but pouted lips and large eyes. She looks like a doll, even in sleep.

She smooths her hand over Daena’s head, lightly so she will not disturb her, like she used to do when she was a babe. Daena makes a small humming noise in her chest but does not rouse.

She wishes her sister could rise from her sleep well rested, to a world where she would never know fear or uncertainty. Such a possibility seems close; in her heart she chases it like a hare, a flash of movement through a forest. She need only draw an arrow and strike her target.

Rhaelle is awake before dawn. By the time Daena will have started to stir, Morra has her bathed, skin scrubbed with sugar and honey then scented with lavender oil, dressed, then adds the finishing touches to her hair. She takes the top half and braids it around Rhaelle’s head like a crown, the rest falling freely down her back. With no Queen, the ladies of the court are said to follow the fashions of Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Helaena. If she is to be a lady of Aemond’s court, a Targaryen, she must appear the part.

She breaks her fast in her privy chamber. Servants bring in jugs of cherry juice, bowls of sweet stewed oats, platters of blackberry tarts and slices of apple dusted with sugar and cinnamon. The sun rises over the courtyard and a pale shade of red shines through the window where the light reflects from the red stone of the Holdfast.

Daena bounces into the room like an excitable child and takes a blackberry tart before she has even taken a seat. She will need to work on her table manners before she dines before the King and his court, Rhaelle notes. Her hair has been brought into one thick braid that falls over her shoulder and her gown is black, like Rhaelle’s, but detailed with silver rather than gold. 

“What did Lord Corlys say to you last night?” she asks, following her pastry with a sip of cherry juice.

“He said that he means to put our cause to the King, and that we must employ patience.”

Daena scoffs, “patience?”

Rhaelle shares a pointed look with Morra, standing by the table. “We have no other choice,” she says, “and you will mind what you say, even in private, even when you think we are alone.”

“I thought the Master of Whispers had been put to death, or does Larys Strong still manage to spy on the Kingdom without a head?”

“And will you continue to slander the King if I find a smith to wrench out your tongue?”

Daena glares at her, then pouts her lips to stifle a giggle.

They finish their meal in relative peace and when they are done, Rhaelle is left with a pleasantly sharp sweetness on her tongue from the fruit. Morra adorns her with jewellery, all gold and set with rubies, a chain about her waist, earrings and a necklace. For the final touch she dabs tinted rosewater on her cheeks and lips.

“They say he’s terribly dull,” Daena says, patiently waiting her turn.

Rhaelle frowns at her through the mirror. “The King?”

“Tyland fucking Lannister– yes, the King.” 

Prince Joffrey had been far too young to be her escort to the wedding of Alyssa and Prince Jacaerys. Aegon was already betrothed to Helaena, and so on the day of the festivities Rhaelle had been presented with a sombre looking, silver-haired Prince. He frowned constantly, which she did not doubt had something to do with the cut through his left eye. The wound and his skin was red, held together with stitches. He often had his hands balled into fists, breathing deeply through his nose as though he was in pain. He tried to talk to her about his studies, and asked her about the histories of Runestone and House Royce. He led her through one dance after dinner before he retreated to his chambers. She had despaired with Alyssa the next day that she hadn’t been allowed to be escorted by any other young man of the court. That boy is a man now, and a kinslayer thrice over.

“Better a dull King than a drunk King, I suppose,” she says quietly.

“Who’s a slanderer now?” Daena says with a wicked smile. 

There are less clouds in the sky this morning. Sunlight bleeds through tall windows and floods the halls of the castle. It is more lively now, servants hurry about with baskets of food and fresh linens, men and women in all their finery walk through courtyards and galleries, though most are gathering at the throne room.

Rhaelle and Daena stay arm in arm, until they reach the entrance hall and the great oak doors that lead into the great hall.

“These carvings are new,” Rhaelle wonders aloud. The stone is cleaner here than it is in the rest of the castle, images of dragons carved into walls, pillars and archways. 

She hears the ominous hum of voices on the other side of the doors. She can picture them, the staring faces like a pack of wolves eager to sink their teeth and claws into the daughters of Daemon Targaryen.

And she can picture the Iron Throne, where her uncle once sat with the golden crown of the Consolidator atop his head.

Daena leans in close to Rhaelle’s ear, tightening her hold on her arm. “But he was a dragonrider, and a warrior, surely he cannot be so dull.”

She tries to imagine that boy from the wedding feast, his serious expression, his round little face, a single sad blue eye darting around the hall. Then she imagines a killer, a bloodthirsty monster with fangs for teeth and talons for hands. She cannot place them in the same body.

“They say he has a sapphire set in the empty socket, but that he wears an eyepatch so as not to frighten the ladies at court.”

She has heard of this story, like Ser Symeon star eyes. “How considerate of him,” Rhaelle adds, glancing over her shoulder but no one seems to have heard them. She clenches her jaw and takes slow, steady breaths in the hopes that it will calm her nerves, just enough to get through this ordeal.

“I wonder if he is handsome?” Daena adds.

He’ll be wearing the Conqueror’s Crown, Valyrian steel and set with square rubies, the same worn by his brother, by Maegor the Cruel. She has only seen it in history books.

“There were awful rumours about Aegon, but he has his own now, doesn’t he?”

He will surely have Blackfyre by his side too, unless he managed to claim Dark Sister from their father’s hands once he was slain. Would he take it as a trophy of war? The thought makes her stomach churn.

“The Harrenhal whore,” Daena hisses.

This tale she is also familiar with. Aemond had marched to Harrenhal and left King’s Landing undefended. When he arrived at that cursed castle and heard the news that he had lost the capital, he slaughtered all of House Strong for treachery, save for a bastard woman, some kind of servant who he took as a bedmate. “He made her Lady of Harrenhal,” she adds, much to the ire of the realm’s Lords.

"A generous patron then," Daena chuckles, and then she falters. She lowers her voice even further till it is scarcely a breath against Rhaelle’s ear. “Will he kill Alyssa too?”

A familiar feeling of fear strikes her in her chest, squeezing on her heart and lungs. She can make no promises, not before she hears the sound of wood creaking as the doors are swung open and the voice of Ser Willis Fell calls, “Lady Rhaelle Targaryen of Runestone, and her sister, Lady Daena Targaryen!”

She drops Daena’s hand on instinct and takes a step before her like a sworn shield. The hungry faces stare up at them but she looks ahead, to the Iron Throne, to the man who sits amongst the mass of swords.

He is too distant for her to make out the details of his face, but they become clearer as she walks through the hall. If there are any whispers of “traitor,” she does not hear them.

The crown sits proudly upon his head of silver hair, long enough to pass his shoulders and fall to his chest. He is dressed all in black with no other distinguishable colours other than the silver buckles on his jerkin, and wears an eyepatch over the left side of his face.

She stops at the base of the steps leading up to the throne, knowing Daena is lingering behind her. Now she sees more of him, the line of his scar, the sharp angles of his face, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose. Most of all her attention is drawn to his mouth, to the curve of his lips, the way they settle in an expression that could almost be amused, were it not for the look of fury and hunger in his remaining eye, which is violet, like her father’s, like hers.

Lord Corlys stands by his side, but she keeps her eyes on the King and curtseys as deeply as she can. She feels her legs trembling under her skirt, her hands shaking by her sides no matter how she wills them to stop. Aemond stares at her all the while, not sparing a glance for Daena who will be following her lead.

“My King,” she says, only to find her jaw is trembling too. She dare not take her eyes from Aemond, should he take it as a sign of weakness. 

She knows the words she must say, Lord Corlys had been very specific, but there’s a thick feeling in her throat, a reluctance that she never had before, now that Aemond’s one eye is boring into her very soul.

She allows herself a breath. “My King, my sister and I have come to renounce the pretender, Rhaenyra, and all those who supported her treason, including our late father–” her eyes fall to the ground before she can stop herself. 

“You have come to ask something of me, cousin?” Aemond says. His voice, hauntingly gentle, draws her eyes back up to him.

“We have come to beg your forgiveness, and pledge our undying love and fealty to you,” she bows her head once more, “the one true King.”

Relief lifts a weight from her body but fear creeps under her skin like a fever, burning and chilling all at once. Murmurs fill the air and she hears Daena let out an exhale of breath, further away than she had expected her to be.

She keeps her head down as she sees movement in front of her, as the murmurs die down and the sound of tauntingly slow footsteps approach her where she kneels.

“Rise, my Lady,” Aemond says. 

She does as she is instructed, straightens her body, her neck, and the last thing she lifts is her gaze.

There is something sinister in the intensity of his eye as it moves about her face, the care he takes in reaching for her hand and pressing an achingly light kiss to it that lingers on her skin, but then he does not let her go. He holds his hand firmly over hers as if to keep his kiss there. “You shall be an honoured guest in my court, Lady Rhaelle.”

She cannot tell if this is kindness or a butcher calming a lamb before the slaughter.

He goes to Daena and kisses her hand, but he does not hold her the way he did Rhaelle.

“Those of my blood who are loyal shall always have a place at my court,” he says to the hall and is met with a cautious applause. 

Rhaelle meets Daena’s eye as they turn to face the crowd. Her sister frowns innocently, wide eyes begging for an explanation. Why should they trust him? Why should they have to appeal to him when they played no part in the war, when they did not challenge his brother’s inheritance? Why should they beg for forgiveness from a kinslayer King?

Aemond looks over his subjects with his head held high and his hands behind his back. He carries no sword, just a knife tucked in on his right hip. He does not regard his people with the warmth of King Viserys, instead he watches them like he’s looking for fear, like he thrives in it.

And he is so utterly captivating.

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @lacebvnny

Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @persephonerinyes @gemini-mama @aemondzyrys @snh96 @magnificentdelusionr

[kckt88]

Love Me Harder.

Summary:

Daera Targaryen, wife of Aemond, is thrown into turmoil when she receives an anonymous letter detailing her husband's infidelity with a mysterious witch at Harrenhal named Alys Rivers. The letter, shrouded in secrecy, raises the doubts and suspicions in Daera's mind, and as she grapples with the shocking revelation, she then has to decide how she will address the potential betrayal that threatens to unravel her relationship with Aemond.

Warning(s): Angst, Hurt, Fear, Possible Cheating, Doubt, Kissing, Schemes, Obssession, Death, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), P in V Sex.

Word Count: 3620.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

AEMOND x SISTER WIFE

Inspired by the song: ARIANA GRANDE & THE WEEKEND - LOVE ME HARDER.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Taglist: @immyowndefender, @iloveallmyboys, @snh96,

With trepidation, Daera unrolled the parchment, her eyes quickly scanning the words that accused her beloved husband, Aemond, of having an affair with Alys Rivers, the alleged strong bastard witch of Harrenhal.

A mixture of emotions coursed through Daera in a single moment - betrayal, anger, and a deep-seated sorrow that threatened to consume her. The flames in the hearth flickered, casting endless shadows that seemed to dance in mockery of her shattered world.

Tears welled in her violet eyes as she clutched the parchment to her chest. The once-unbreakable bond between her and Aemond now seemed like fragile glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

The weight of the unborn child within her seemed to intensify, as if sharing in their mother's anguish.

In the cold silence of the chamber, Daera found herself at a crossroads, unsure of the path that lay ahead, torn between the love she once knew and the shadows that now threatened to engulf her world.

The news of Aemond’s alleged infidelity had spread around the Red Keep like wildfire, many pointed whispers and sympathetic glances has been cast in her direction and it made Daera want to scream.

Even their own mother, she had clutched her seven pointed star necklace and wept endlessly that her favourite son was a deviant just like Aegon, and their grandsire for the briefest of moments had let his mask slip and the sour disappointment poured from him like water.

The anonymous nature of the letter had left Daera torn between confronting Aemond or seeking the truth independently, but as the whispering increased Daera was left with little choice.

Determined to unveil the truth and confront the spectre of betrayal that haunted her, Daera prepared for a journey to Harrenhal.

So, with her decision made, Daera gently cradled her swollen belly as she mounted her fierce dragon, Cannibal.

The air hummed with anticipation as the colossal creature spread his leathery black wings, casting a far reaching shadow over the Red Keep.

The rumours of Aemond's alleged infidelity with Alys Rivers, had ignited a fiery resolve within Daera—a resolve that now propelled her and her dragon towards the seat of House Strong.

Even with the war raging-Daera was determined to seek the truth, her Cannibal would protect her, and he would exact fiery vengeance upon Aemond and Alys if the rumours were proved true.

Either that or she would split Aemond from cock to throat with his own dagger, whilst Alys watched.

As Cannibal soared through the skies, Daera gripped her dragon's spikes, her long braided silver hair whipping in the wind.

The Red Keep shrinking in the distance behind her.

The chill of the high altitude was nothing compared to the ice that gripped Daera's heart at the thought of the impending confrontation with Aemond and his witch.

As Cannibal glided through the sky, Daera's mind raced with a cacophony of emotions—betrayal, anger, and a motherly instinct to protect the unborn child growing within her.

A number of hours after leaving Kings Landing behind, Harrenhal emerged in the distance, its sprawling ruined towers cutting through the horizon like rotten jagged teeth.

Cannibal circled the blackened ruins a couple of times before landing within the castle's vast courtyard, the impact reverberating through the ancient stones.

Daera carefully dismounted, her violet eyes ablaze with determination as she spotted Ser Criston slowly walking towards her, the Hand of the King weary of the Cannibal who hovered protectively behind his rider.

“Princess, you should not be here”.

“No-I should not, but I need to see my husband” replied Daera as she slowly pulled off her leather gloves.

“His Grace is-“

“-Is what? Ser Criston, sequestered away in his chambers with his bastard witch” snapped Daera.

“You know of her?”

“Everyone knows of her-closeness to my husband” said Daera.

“Perhaps in your condition Princess you should not-“

“You will direct me to my husband Ser Criston, or I will have Cannibal burn you alive-I’m not in the mood” quipped Daera.

“As you wish Princess-this way” said Criston, eyeing the Cannibal with cautious fear.

The dragon was well known for his ferocious temper and his protective nature over his rider, she was the first to ever bond with the fearsome Cannibal and he was utterly devoted to her and if he percieved anyone as a threat he would react instantly.

Daera followed Ser Criston silently, curiously watching his white cloak brushing against the dirty floor with every step he took, it was a rather odd thing to focus on given the circumstances, but it served its purpose-a distraction from what she was no doubt about to face.

“Up there Princess-first door on the right” muttered Criston lowering his head as she walked past.

With each step, Daera ascended the winding stairs, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythmic sound of her boots against the stone floor.

The air within the tower grew heavy, fraught with tension as she approached the chamber where Ser Criston said her husband would be.

After taking a deep breath, Daera reached forward and pushed open the blackened wooden door that creaked loudly on its old, rusted hinges.

Aemond, startled by her sudden entrance, quickly rose from his seat, the dark haired Alys Rivers stared at her-a smirk plastered across her face.

The room shrouded in the eerie glow emanating from the fireplace.

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the crackling of the hearth and the distant roars of Cannibal, still looming in the courtyard below.

“ābrazȳrys, what are you doing here?” asked Aemond (Wife).

“There has been a number of rumours about you taking another woman to your bed”.

“Daera I-“

"Aemond-Is it true? Have you been bedding Alys?" asked Daera her eyes glinting with a mixture of hurt and anger.

"Daera, you mustn't believe such baseless rumours. I am your husband, and I would never betray our marriage vows."

Daera however, was not easily swayed by her husband’s words.

"The rumours have grown too loud to be dismissed as baseless," replied Daera, her hand unconsciously resting on the swell of her belly. "I received an anonymous letter detailing secret meetings and whispered confessions. Tell me the truth Aemond”.

“Issa jorrāelagon, I swear to you on our blood and the honour of House Targaryen, I have not been unfaithful. I love you, and only you” replied Aemond firmly (My love).

“Making false statements based upon the sanctity of blood is dangerous my Prince” said Alys sweetly as she rose for her chair, the black fabric of her dress sweeping behind her like a giant shadow.

“False statements? I haven’t-“ exclaimed Aemond as he turned to face Alys.

“Sweet Princess, the truth often hides behind veils woven by those who fear them. Aemond may deny our connection, but the fire between us cannot be extinguished with mere words".

“Aemond what is she talking about?” asked Daera.

“She’s talking rubbish-don’t listen to her” urged Aemond.

"Aemond and I did share more than mere words, Princess. In the depths of the night, passion ignited between us like a wildfire. He may deny it to protect his honour, but I have no reason to lie” muttered Alys her gaze unwavering.

“I swear-I have not, Daera please-” said Aemond.

"-Love is a fickle thing. Perhaps your husband sought something in me that he could not find in you. Or perhaps destiny played a hand in our union,” said Alys.

“STOP LYING. We did not have an affair, and you know it. Why are you doing this?"

"Aemond, my love, you cannot deny what transpired between us. The passion we shared; the secrets whispered in the night – they are etched in the fabric of our souls” replied Alys a provocative smirk danced across her face.

"This is madness, Alys. I am married to Daera, and our union is bound by duty and love. I would never betray her, nor our family” said Aemond angrily, his jaw clenching.

"Love, duty – noble sentiments, but they pale in comparison to the fire that burns between us. You cannot deny the truth forever, my dragon” chuckled Alys, her laugh sending shivers down Aemond’s spine.

"Enough of these lies! What do you hope to gain by tarnishing my name and sowing discord between me and my wife” snapped Aemond his patience waning.

“Aemond-“ gasped Daera.

"I will not let your lies destroy everything I hold dear. I demand the truth, Alys. Why are you doing this?" gasped Aemond his frustration boiling over as he seized Alys by her shoulders.

“You” whispered Alys, her gaze mixed with defiance and desire.

“What?” exclaimed Aemond, releasing Alys and stepping away from her.

"I want you for myself. Daera is but a hindrance, a barrier between us. Our fates are intertwined, and the rumours were the key to breaking the chains that bind you”.

“You're the one who sent the letter” said Daera, her voice sharp with accusation.

"You would tarnish my name, destroy my marriage, all for your own selfish desires?"

"Love makes warriors of us all, Aemond. I would tear down the walls that keep us apart. The whispers were my way of bringing you to me, unencumbered by the burdens of your marriage” muttered Alys now circling Aemond like a predator closing in on its prey.

“Our marriage is not a burden-“ snapped Daera, taking a step towards Alys, but Aemond shook his head, warning her away.

"I saw it in the flames. A vision of a child, a child of fire and blood, born of the union between a dragon prince and a sorceress. It is our destiny, our legacy” said Alys her green eyes glinting in the darkness.

“I already have a child on the way” said Aemond, his eye never leaving Alys.

“-It matters not, mistakes can be taken care off”.

“N-No” muttered Daera as she cradled her swollen stomach protectively.

"From the moment you arrived on the back of Vhagar, I knew. The flames spoke to me, foretelling a union that would change the course of history. I have watched you, yearned for you, and the whispers were but a means to bring us together” urged Alys.

"My duty lies with my wife and the child she carries” retorted Aemond.

"Aemond, the power we could wield, the legacy we could leave. It surpasses the bonds of marriage and duty. Our child would be a beacon, a symbol of the union between dragon and magic” said Alys rubbing her palms together.

"Your visions and desires do not absolve you of the harm you've caused. I will do what I must in order to protect my family from this madness”.

“You seemed to enjoy my madness when it brought you victory” snarked Alys.

“Not at the cost of my marriage, I have no desire to sully myself with the likes of you”.

Undeterred by his resistance, Alys approached him with an otherworldly grace.

"As I said, whispers were but a means to an end. A way to break the chains that bound you to Daera. Our union would birth a new era, a dynasty unmatched in power and glory."

"I will not let you destroy my wife and tarnish the honour of House Targaryen. Our blood is sacred, not a pawn in your twisted games” said Aemond, stepped back, his resolve unwavering.

Alys watched with wild fury, as Aemond embraced his wife, his hands cupping her face gently.

“I’m sorry, my love. I should never should have doubted you” exclaimed Daera.

“Issa prūmia, it's not your fault. Alys manipulated us all, and the rumours were a poison none of us could escape” replied Aemond pressing a kiss to his wife’s lips (My heart).

"No, Aemond. I should have trusted you, and believed in the love that has bound us. Instead, I let the shadows take hold. For that, I am truly sorry” sobbed Daera, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

“Our love is stronger than the schemes of those who seek to tear us apart” whispered Aemond wiping away his wife’s tears.

"I was blind to the truth, but now, I see. We cannot let Alys Rivers' deceit define us. Our family and our child, deserves better” replied Daera, pressing her face into Aemonds shoulder and inhaling his familiar scent.

"We will rebuild, Daera. Stronger than before. The flame that binds us will endure”.

Alys scoffed at the declarations of love and forgiveness. This was not how it was supposed to be, Aemond belonged to her, not his silver haired bitch.

As the minutes passed Alys, grew more envious and resentful, her mind screaming at her to rid Aemond of his wife once and for all, so she drew a concealed dagger from the folds of her dark garments. The cold steel glinted ominously in the flickering torchlight as she advanced with malicious intent.

“You stole him from me. He was mine, and you took him away” hissed Alys, the venom in her words cutting through the silence.

With a feral snarl, she lunged at Daera, the dagger gleaming in the dim light.

Aemond, fuelled by a potent mixture of anger and determination, turned sharply, and withdrew his sword, clashing blades with Alys, the clang of connecting steel echoing around the chamber.

Alys rounded on Aemond her green eyes alight with fury, she let out a roar of rage and lunged forward, waving the dagger wildly in front of her.

“If I can’t have you-then no one can” screamed Alys.

In a surge of fury, he parried her frenzied attacks, his eye ablaze with a determination to end the twisted game Alys had orchestrated.

Daera watched as Aemond engaged Alys with his steel, he was skilled with the blade and could have ended her in seconds, but he seemed to be toying with her, almost deriving some sort of pleasure from allowing her to believe she had a chance.

Eventually Aemond grew bored with Alys and with a swift and precise movement, his sword found its mark, piercing through Alys's defences. The room echoed with the clang of metal, followed by a haunting silence.

Alys, her eyes widening in disbelief, crumpled to the cold stone floor, her hands pressing against the oozing wound.

"You sought to taint the honour of my house, to use my blood for your selfish desires, "I will not allow it" declared Aemond, his voice cutting through the silence.

Alys, defeated and gasping for breath, met Aemond's gaze.

“You're a manipulator, Alys, a puppeteer pulling the strings of our lives for your own whims. You've endangered my family, and the life of my child”.

"Love and power often come at a cost. But with me, you could’ve had everything” chuckled Alys, her wheezing laughter echoing through the chamber.

“I already have everything” said Aemond firmly.

Daera sat on the bed and watched the blood pooling around Alys, her crackled wheezes still emanating round the chamber.

“I-I spent nights laying in that bed, wishing to hold you were here with me”.

“I’m with you now” replied Daera.

Aemond smiled slightly as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

His heart was pounding in his chest, it had been so long since he’d experienced any form of intimacy and the mere touch of his wife’s lips upon his was enough to reignite that spark in his blood.

He wanted her, in every way possible. He wanted to sink his cock into her and bask in the feeling of her wet heat wrapped around him once again.

“W-What about?-” asked Daera cautiously as she looked over Alys’ prone bleeding body.

“-Let her hear what she could never have” growled Aemond, his voice low and raspy.

Her first thought was to refuse, it would not be proper to fuck her husband in the company of another, but her second thought was to allow Aemond to give her every ounce of pleasure that she’d sorely missed in the weeks they’d been apart, and the vindictive part of her wanted that witch to hear how Aemond would make her beg for his cock, she wanted Alys to hear every single moan, gasp and plea before she eventually succumbed to her wounds.

So, Daera shimmed out of her riding gear and laid on the bed. Her body had of course changed over the weeks they were apart and Aemond’s eye hungrily devoured the curves and comfortable roundness.

Aemond discarded his clothes double-quick and gently laid down next to her. His mouth claimed hers and his teeth pulled at her plump bottom lip.

Moving his hand down her body, he slid two long fingers into her cunny and speared them in and out of her at a slow gentle pace.

His palm bumped against her clit with each movement of his hand.

“Oh, Aemond” moaned Daera desperately.

Aemond withdrew his hand from her wet centre and manoeuvred himself down the bed, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her skin, as he reached his desired destination he hooked his hands around her thighs, and his mouth descended on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into her core with his tongue. Daera clutched at his head with one hand, whilst her other hand fisted the sheet.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast, and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunny.

Daera ground down on Aemond, his tongue speared deeper inside her, as she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Yet Aemond withdrew and Daera whimpered with frustration at the denial of her peak.

“So wet for me” muttered Aemond, his voice husky.

"P-Please Aemond. I-I need you” moaned Daera.

Aemond smiled as he turned her over to her side and began suckling on her exposed neck.

"I want to feel you come all over my cock" growled Aemond.

Aemond lifted her leg and slowly slid his cock into her cunny.

Daera grabbed hold of the sheet, and closed her eyes, letting out a gratifying moan.

Reaching back, she entwined her fingers into his long silver hair and whimpered, "More, Give me more".

Once Aemond was fully sheathed, he carefully grasped hold of her waist and started to slowly thrust into her.

"Daera, my sweet wife. How I’ve missed the feeling of your tight wet cunny squeezing my cock” exclaimed Aemond, his hot breath caressing her neck.

After weeks without her delectable body to satisfy his ravenous sexual appetite, Aemond felt the need for release quickly spread across his body.

Daera was so wet that he almost lost his grip and slipped out, but he managed to remain ensconced within her as he continued to thrust into her sweet tight cunt.

The sweat off her back rubbed against his chest and her moans and muffled groans were sweet music to his ears.

Aemond snaked a hand between her legs and rubbed her clit repeatedly until the rise of heat engulfed her and toppled her right off the edge.

"Aemond, don't stop, my love" gasped Daera, her cunny clenching his cock.

“Fuck, Daera. Yes, that’s it” moaned Aemond thrusting one final time as he exploded deep inside her, rope after rope of his seed painting her inner walls.

Aemond buried his face in her shorter silver hair and breathed in her familiar scent.

As he went to pull his softened cock from her, Daera stopped him.

“Let’s just stay like this a little longer. Please”

Aemond nodded and pressed closer to his wife’s warm body.

A feeling of pure love shot through him, as he nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose.

“You have no idea how many nights I dreamt of you, wishing that you were in my arms again” whispered Aemond.

“I had those same dreams my love” replied Daera, sighing with contentment.

She was back in her husband’s arms, and she never wanted to leave.

Eventually Aemond pulled his softened cock from his wife and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Daera cupped her round stomach and slowly rolled onto her back.

Aemond placed his hand on her stomach and smiled as he felt the movement within, their little dragon, he couldn’t wait to hold his babe in his arms.

“D-Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hm” muttered Aemond as he slowly rose from the bed and pulled on his breeches.

Alys’ eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling, her chest no longer moving. Aemond gently nudged her with his foot, and she remained unmoved.

“She’s dead” said Aemond as he reached down and closed Alys’ eyelids.

“Mayhaps we should have her removed from here” suggested Daera.

“I will request-“ muttered Aemond as an urgent banging sound on the door interrupted him.

Aemond hesitated for a brief moment so Daera could properly cover herself with a sheet.

“Your Grace”

“Cole-“ said Aemond as he wrenched open the door.

“Apologise for interrupting but-is she dead?” asked Criston as he spotted Alys.

“Yes, never mind about her-what’s wrong?” questioned Aemond.

“A raven has arrived-Kings Landing has fallen“.

[extistentialfox]

Rhaena Targaryen and Daera Velaryon on the shores of Dragon Stone.

[chaosordoffl]

Some Valyrian/Targaryen/Velaryon names. No expertise here, simply following patterns to see what sounds and looks nice + canon sources and Valyrian dictionary plucks. In chrono & thought order.

Canon — Rhaenys, Rhaena, Rhaella, Rhaenyra, Rhaegel, Rhae, Rhaelle, Rhaegar (All Targ)

Derived — Rhaenion, Rhaenelle, Rhaenella, Rhaegor, Rhaegon, Aenyra, Rhaelion, Rhaenyx, Rhaelyx, Rhaenar, Rhaenyar, Rhaenel, Rhaelys, Rhaevel, Rhaevis, Rhaevys, Viserrhae, Rhaenya, Rhaenior, Rhaenor, Rhael, Rhaen, Rhaejel, Rhaeqan, Rhaellor, Rhaemon, Rhaemond, Rhaenyron, Rhaema

Canon — Aenar, Aegon, Aerys, Aelyx, Aerion, Aethan (1 Velaryon), Vaegon, Aenys, Aerea, Naerys, Aegor, Aelor, Aelora (Rest Targ)

Derived — Aegar, Aelon, Aelys, Aelar, Aelara, Aella, Aelinor, Aeral, Aeron, Aelion, Aegys, Aegal, Aelia, Naera, Naeron, Naerion, Naerelle, Naerella, Naerea, Aethal, Aethelle, Aethys, Aethion, Aethar, Aethial, Aenor, Aethor, Aerelle, Gaelyx, Aenyx, Aeryx, Baelyx, Aelial, Aeliar, Aelior, Vaegal, Vaegor, Vaegar, Vaelior, Vaelor, Aerial, Aeriel, Aelan, Aevys, Aevelle, Aevella, Haelyx, Haelian, Aenir, Haethan, Haelan, Haelor, Aekor, Haeral

Canon — Gaemon (T), Daemion (T & V), Daemon (V & T), Aemon (T), Aemma (T [Andal?]), Vaemond (V), Aemond (T), Daeron (V later T)

Derived — Daemyra, Daemys, Daemyn, Daemelle, Daema, Gaemar, Daerelle, Daerion, Aemys, Aemar, Aemor, Aemir, Aemira, Aemara, Aemora, Daemor, Daemora, Vaemon, Gaema, Gaemond, Gaemyn, Gaemion, Aemion, Gaemor, Aemior, Aemyn, Aemin, Aerona, Aemona, Aemia, Aeman, Aemal, Aemelle, Gaemia, Aemol, Aemil, Aemila, Aemilon, Aemilor, Aeminor, Daemyron, Daeminor, Haemon, Naemon, Haemia, Naema, Haemal, Haemar, Naemior, Naemor, Daemian

Canon — Daenys, Daenerys, Daella, Daenaera (1 V), Daena, Daenora (Rest T)

Derived — Daenyra, Daenar, Daenor, Daenelle, Daenal, Daen, Nerys, Naera, Daenir, Daenyx, Daeryx, Daerys, Daera, Daerya, Daenya, Daenyron, Daenorion, Norion, Daenyrion, Daenarion, Daenaeron, Daellar, Daelar, Daelon, Daelor, Daelan, Daelana, Daelanys, Daelenys, Daelyn, Aenaera

Canon — Maegon, Maegor, Maegelle, Maelor, Maekar (All T)

Derived — Maegar, Maela, Maelys, Maegys, Maegera, Maegara, Maegerys, Maegal, Maegyn, Maegan, Maekor, Maekaera, Maegaera, Maegaela, Maekion, Maelyra, Maegyra, Maelara, Maelar

Canon — Elaena (T), Valaena, Laena, Laenor (3 V), Helaena (T)

Derived — Laenys, Laenyra, Laenar, Laenelle, Helaenys, Elaenor, Elaenys, Laenion, Laenir, Laenyx, Elaenar, Laenora, Haena, Vaena, Alaena, Haela, Norys, Alaenys, Vaenys, Galaena

Canon — Visenya, Viserys, Viserra (T)

Derived — Viserya, Visenys, Senys, Saenys, Saenya, Saenar, Saenelle, Saenyelle, Saenyella, Serya, Serra, Serys, Saenir, Saenyx, Saenor, Viselya, Senial, Serial, Saerial, Visellan, Visarys, Visenna, Virenna

Canon — Baelon, Baela, Baelor, Balerion (Blackfyre), Valerion (Rest T)

Derived — Baelys, Baelar, Bael, Baelir, Alerion, Aleria, Aelir, Valeria, Valerys

Canon — Jaehaerys (T), Jacaerys (V), Lucerys (V), Jaehaera (T)

Derived — Lucerra, Lucerion, Jaehaerion, Jaerion, Lucerya, Jacaera, Jaena, Jaenelle, Jaecelle, Jaesir, Jaekar, Jaeron, Jaela, Jaelon, Jaelor, Jaerys, Haerys, Haera, Kael, Kaecion, Kaeciel, Kaecelle, Kaerys, Kaerion, Kaeriel, Lucarys, Jaeca, Nicerys, Nicaerys, Hecaerys, Nicerion, Hicaerys, Niceria, Nicae, Lucarya, Lucaenys, Lucaena, Nocorys

Canon — Lianna, Larissa (V [Andal? First Men?]), Alarra (FM [Massey]), Alyssa (V & T [Andal? FM?]), Alysanne (T)

Derived — Alysor, Lianys, Lianor, Sianna, Amanna, Alanna, Noranna, Narra, Nyssa, Anyssa, Alarya, Asenna, Norissa, Irenna, Orissa, Lysarra, Lisarra, Aranna

Canon — Valarr, Vaella (T)

Derived — Vaelys, Valarys, Alarys, Alarya, Valarya, Valarra, Vaellan

Canon — Gael, Saera, Shaera (T)

Derived — Saerys, Gaelys, Gaelor, Gaelon, Gaelion, Saerion, Shaerys, Shaerial, Shaerelle, Shaelle, Shael, Shaelys, Saevys, Shaerion, Gaela, Shaela, Shaehaera

Canon — Corwyn (V [Andal?]), Corlys (V)

Derived — Corla, Corlia, Corlaenys, Cora, Corys, Corlenys, Corlea, Corlae, Corvan, Corvana, Corvys

Malentine

Rhogar(/Rogar?/Rogare? [FM? HV?])

Monford

Monterys (All V)

Derived — Terys, Teraea, Taeraea, Taerion, Monys, Monerys, Montys, Rhogel, Malentys, Malenta, Monterion, Monterra, Mona, Monae, Monarra, Malentina, Lentys, Lenta, Lenya, Taenys, Taena, Alentys, Malya, Malys, Malea, Malena, Malenna, Malaena, Amalla, Alenna, Marissa, Monassa, Monessa, Monerra, Mosarra, Malarra, Malenys, Amarys, Mantys, Malta, Maltys, Maltine, Maltina, Amalta, Amaltine, Alta, Altys, Altarra, Maltar, Maltarys, Marion, Maltior, Malerion, Mornys, Mortys, Morton, Omorr, Omon, Malenion, Malenior, Almys, Monissa, Montissa, Montessa, Omona, Omorra, Maltion, Malton, Almont, Almae, Maltorra, Torys, Garys, Garla, Galtys, Torrine, Tarine, Maltarine, Maltarra, Almerra, Almarra, Almorra, Alterra, Lamina, Monta, Monte, Montae, Taera, Taerine, Taerin, Taerys, Manta, Almina, Almine, Rhonal, Rhonior, Rhomys, Almar, Malar, Malarr, Malarys, Almarys, Maline, Rhomalt, Rhomion, Rhomior, Rhomia, Rhoma, Rhoton, Rhomine, Rhomal, Rhogal, Rhomina, Rhomon, Rhomar, Rhomorr, Almassa, Rhomys, Rhomyn, Torial, Malial, Rhovys, Rhowyn, Matarra, Atarra, Rhomond, Rhomorra, Tormon

Matarys (T)

Derived — Matarya, Matara, Matys, Tarys, Tarya, Atara, Atarys, Tarial, Tarhael, Matarr

Canon — Orys, Borys, Orryn (Baratheon)

Derived — Orial, Ora, Orya, Orra, Borya, Boria, Boryl, Orelle, Orianne, Orael, Orrael, Orhael, Borion, Orion, Bora, Orian, Oryal, Oryas, Orias, Orios, Oryos, Rys, Ryssa, Ryssal, Orlisse, Rysla, Ryn, Rynel, Rynella, Boryn, Borryn, Rynal, Dorys, Orella, Dorella, Oryl, Orgillac, Orgyll, Borella, Borylla, Bolia, Bolas, Orlas, Ollyn, Olys, Olya, Orianna, Lorys

Bonus: Argellys

Canon — Maelys, Haegon, Aeryn, Calla, Rhalla, Shaena (Blackfyre)

Canon non-Westerosi Valyrians:

Jaenara Belaerys, Aurion

Canon Dragons:

Urrax, Terrax, Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, Vermithor, Caraxes, Meleys, Syrax, Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, Tessarion, Shrykos, Morghul, Viserion, Rhaegal

Unknown — Gaelithox?, Aegarax?

Original & HV Derived (some more suitable for dragons) — Aelsior, Qaelys, Qylys, Vhenys, Vhenya, Vhinyae, Vhanir, Vaenir, Vaenyx, Baelykos, Lykael, Lykaera, Raqael, Raqel, Raqys, Raqyssa, Raqissa, Raqar, Raqir, Raqor, Raqora, Raqior, Kionar, Malkion, Malkios, Vhaltir, Malkior, Vaedys, Vaedar, Elenys, Elenia, Elēnar, Elenarys, Elenarya, Elenara, Kostys, Kostir, Kostior, Pelarys, Pelonia, Pelonys, Eledrae, Eledrys, Eledryn, Peria, Perza, Perzys, Zysa, Amisor, Amisa, Aexior/Aeksior, Aexion/Aeksion, Raenion, Raenior, Qana, Qanys, Qantys, Ēbrior, Ēbrion, Ēbria, Jelmys, Jelmarys, Jelmazys, Jelissa, Tessarys, Tessara, Tessarae, Dessan, Dessenae, Hārys, Tōmarr, Tōmarys, Tōmasyn, Tessarax, Syrion, Syriel, Jēdarys, Jēdaria, Jorrael, Trēzos, Elilla, Vāedan, Ōrbēdon

Possible High Valyrian roots for names:

Rhaen — to; meet, find, encounter, discover

Bael — to help, to aid, to assist

Jael — to want, to wish/to store, to house

Jaelarys — hope (possible name)

[anadxanax]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓'𝖘 𝕮𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖊 — I

There is something very special about female bloodlines, they are rare and not common in Westeros, but they are definitely remarkable. Aella Targaryen's bloodline was one of the few to survive the events of the Dance of the Dragons, the Blackfyre Rebellions, and Robert's Rebellion.

Little is known about how the women of this family managed to survive for so long, taking their knowledge, mysteries and gifts forward. What you will see here are small records of what I know about the history of this family, a tribute to all the women who were forgotten by the maesters of the citadel.

This first part must be dedicated to Princess Aella Targaryen, the protector, and her daughters: Celaena Arryn, the dream tamer, and Daera Arryn, the golden dragon.

Index:

I Aella

II Celaena

III Daera

Hey!! Welcome to my little world, I'm so excited about this fic cause it has been in my head since before HOTD came out. I have a lot to explore and I'm really excited to write about it. There are no specific deadlines for when I will be publishing new chapts, but I'll try to go for at least one per week (mostly on Sundays).

Also, I know I said this in the last two chapters so this will be the last time I do this, but I need to remind you that ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! There will be mistakes throughout my writing and you're more than welcome to warn me about it in the comments, but please be kind. Plus I write mostly at night so I'm sleepy most of the time and I make LOT'S of mistakes.

Important: I'm going to mix up the canon of the books and the series a lot and change some things so feel free to ask questions about this little universe we're creating together.

"You're team green or team black?" I'm team dragons and you'll understand what I'm saying through the fic.

"Who's the main couple?" everyone is a couple if I feel like it, lot's of oc's, lot's of tragic couple's. And just like everything that happens in the asoiaf/hotd universe, I say again: there are no protagonists, just victims of my cruel mind.

If you would like to be in a taglist for future chapters please let me know.

xoxo 🖤

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Request - Aegon I Targaryen Aesthetic: Rhaena Belaerys of Essos.

Rhaena Belaerys Aesthetic:

Aegon met Rhaena during a visit to Essos along with his sister-wife Visenya and fell under her charm immediately. Aegon married her in a matter of moons and the pair would often be found duelling in the yard with Blackfyre and her own sword Stormweaver.

The pair became parents to two beautiful daughters Daera and Maella. Daera had her father's Targaryen hair and her mother's darker skin but she was just as much a warrior as them. Maella had her mother's dark brown hair but her skin was much lighter than her sister's and her mother, she was more scholar and loved to read. It was no secret that Aegon favoured his daughters over his sons and insisted they all were educated together. The girls were only two years apart with Daera being the elder.

Daera and Maella's eggs hatched in the cradle, eggs from Vaghar and Balerion coupling. Daera's egg was of light black almost grey colour and the dragon was of the same colour with red eyes, she called him Stormcloud while Maella's egg was of white colour but the dragon came out of light creamy colour, closer to yellow with white eyes and blue flames rumoured to be hotter than golden flames, she named him Bluefyre.

[gameofthronesaibloodlines]

Aelora's King Consort

Name: Laenyx Blackfyre

Lifetime: 300 AC-355 AC

As Consort: 324 AC-346 AC

Title(s):

Lord to the House of Blackfyre

King Consort

....

Father: Viserys III Targaryen

Mother: Alyssa Blackfyre

Siblings: Daera Blackfyre

Spouse(s): Queen Aelora Targaryen

- never remarried after she died. He loved her too much.

Children: Rhaenesella Targaryen, Baerion Blackfyre, Jaessa Blackfyre, Daemon III Blackfyre, Jacaerys Blackfyre, Rhaenys Blackfyre, Visenya I Blackfyre, and Aemond I Blackfyre

.....

Ties to the Targaryens:

- His father was Viserys III Targaryen (brother of Daenerys)

- His ancestor is Daemon I Blackfyre. Which makes him also the blood of Aegon IV Targaryen and Danaera Targaryen- both descendants of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.

[camilbarnessss]

¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 15 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, references to sex, angst and grief, mentions of death, HIGHLY EXPLICIT DEATH, mentions of blood, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

In Storm’s End, watchers on the castle walls saw distant blast of flame, and would hear shrieks cutting the thunders. Everyone that knew which dragons had taken off from Darren’s Defiance imagined the same: the two beasts were locked together, lightning crackling around them.

■ ■ ■

《 Calm before the storm that already thundered 》

Vhagar was five times the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles. If there was a fight, it could not have lasted long. Though we did see what happened between the dark clouds, and so we can attest that the Fight above Shipbreaker Bay lasted more than perhaps ten minutes. Too little time for ones, mayhap, but let us remember The Queen of All Dragons could’ve easily ended the confrontation within a snap; it was prince Lucerys and his great rider skills than bought him and his dragon more time of life.

Yet, Arrax’s few remaining members fell, broken, to be swallowed by the storm-lashed waters of the bay. A leg and half-tail of his washed up beneath the cliffs below Storm’s End just hours after his butchering, to make a feast for crabs and seagulls.

So many theories arose between whisperers, in the years to come. Some claim that Prince Lucerys’ corpse washed up as well, and tells us that Prince Aemond cut out his eyes and presented them to Lady Maris Baratheon on a bed of seaweed. We know that’s excessive, and very much a lie.

Some say Vhagar snatched Lucerys off his dragon’s back and swallowed him whole. We know ‘tis the true version. It has even been claimed that the prince survived his fall, swam to safety, but lost all memory of who he was, spending the rest of his days as a simpleminded fisherman. Gods be good.

We shall give all these tales the respect they deserve…which is to say, none. Lucerys Velaryon, the sweet boy we lived, laughed and fought with since the commence of this story, died with his dragon. Our brother was fourteen years of age. His body was never found, though we yet may see that.

With his death, the war of ravens and envoys and marriage pacts came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest. But we will wait for the narration of this war a little longer. Believe us: the longer we postpone it, the better for our hearts.

Now we are up to date, knowing what is happening on each of the different sides of our history. We saw Jace and Daera conquering The Vale, we saw Aemond's and Luke's experiences in Storm's End, we saw Rhaenyra along her Black Council, and we saw Daeron arriving to King's Landing.

Now, let us turn back to him.

The youngest son of King Viserys I and his second wife, Alicent Hightower, is now at moments in the Godswood of the castle.

The prince, who’s just days away from turning eight-and-ten, is seated on a bench made of fine stone. From here, he feels a cold breeze and looks up at the white round moon, lightly smiling to it from his distance. The night is a quiet one that has brought him to reflections and thoughts.

His eldest brother, Aegon, is King of the Seven Kingdoms, sits the Iron Throne and is the highest authority of all Westeros. His elder sister has two beautiful children and is with child again, serving as a perfect wife to her husband. His elder brother, Aemond, flies about the realm to gain support for their brother’s throne.

Daeron can’t help but to think that his family is the freaking best. It only takes a glance to realize it; look at what everyone’s up to! There are times that the young man whishes dearly that he had grown here instead of Oldtown. He’d know them better, and he wouldn’t have had to ride Tessarion always alone in the skies. “How would it have been?”, he dreams.

The boy doesn’t know his luck.

-Daeron!-, a voice suddenly calls him. The prince stops smiling at the moon and turns around his face with tranquility, blinking quietly.

Dowager Queen Alicent nears to him with nervous steps, looking around anxiously while approaching with quickness. All of her jewelry clinks as she walks.

-What are you doing out here?!-. The Queen whispers, raising her brows as she reached to him, standing in front of her youngest son, who just shrugged-. It is dark and cold out here, and you alone-. She raises her brows.

-It is fresh-, he shrugges again, gifting her a little smile. Alicent shakes her head briefly, looking around-. The Godswood is always a good place to think, mother, which is what I am doing, do not need to worry-. The prince speaks funnily, cocking his head while looking at her.

-You must be tired, from your flight, Daeron-. The Dowager Queen speaks along little sighs, lightly moving her arms at the sides of her body.

-Sort of-. The boy shrugges, once again, showing no distress at all on his eyes. He’s so different from his mother-. I realized…Aegon didn’t make a feast, as he said he would-. He notices, lightly narrowing his eyes towards her.

Alicent briefly presses her lips, raising her brows a little and beginning to nod.

-The King came to the realization that holding a banquet was not appropriate for the evening-. She attests, crossing her hands over her belly-. He found it best to…behold his wishes-, she showed a quick smile.

That was a lie. She hasn’t even seen Aegon since they were at The Iron Throne Hall and he declared a feast was to be taking place in The Red Keep. Truth be told, “the King” got drunk, forgot about his idea, and kept getting drunk.

-Ah, wise-. Daeron smiles, nodding. His mother nods in silence, starting to wonder where her eldest son may be now. She spent great time of the day in the High Sept, praying, so she wouldn’t know-. Mother-, he appears before her eyes again.

Alicent breathes in deeply, getting off her deep thoughts. Daeron blinks while looking at her, noticing the strong grip on her own hands and how tense her shoulders are. He wonders whether she’s cold or anxious.

-Care to sit with me?-, he proposes, leaning to the right, and making space for her on the bench.

-I rather stand-. His mother answered, preferring to have a clear sight of the whole garden itself, which is still lonely, only the two of them here-. Thank you, dearest-. She’s quick to add, glancing at him.

Daeron accepted her decision with no offense, but still kept the space for her. The prince breathes calmly through his nose staring at the moon once again. There is silent for some time, in which he got thoughtful, and she kept looking around.

-May I ask you something?-. The queen’s son questions, still looking at the white circle in the sky.

Alicent pressed her scrunched lips, immediately assuming that he’s to ask about the situation at presence. The war.

-You may, son-. She allowed after gulping, maintaining a serious expression.

Dowager Queen wonders what he’d ask. “What would happen to us if Rhaenyra steals my brother’s throne?”, “How are our defenses?”, “Why didn’t you fight back to Rhaenys and her dragon?”, “Will someone kill me and my siblings?”.

-Did my father suffer, mom?-. Daeron asked, blinking slowly. In that moment, Alicent became speechless, parting her ever-pressed lips. Haven’t expected that question at all, she looks down to him with eyes that started to show emotion-. Did he suffer much…before parting?-. He furrows his brows lightly, gulping.

There’s true worriness on her child’s eyes; he truly feels for the father that barely paid him any sort of attention. He is not resentful. He…truly is completely different from his brothers.

Alicent licks her lips, thinking of her words before speaking them, under the purple eyes of her Valyrian son.

-We did everything in our and the Gods’ power so that your father didn’t suffer-. Alicent answered with tones of sweet, sugar-coating King Viserys’ sickness-. We cared for him…until the very end-. She assured, gifting him a slow honest smirk.

When hearing so, Daeron sighed, forming a smile as well.

-I am glad-, he whispers-. I am thankful-. The prince looks to her with relieve-. I know he is too, mom…-. Daeron promised with gentleness, raising a hand, and holding one of his mother’s.

Alicent curves her brows, sniffing her nose. Her shoulders slouched and her lips smiled sadly to him. She looks at the boy with a troubled love, honestly not understanding how is it that he can be so good.

Feeling a great deal of easiness while being with her youngest child, Dowager Queen Alicent prayed for forgiveness from the gods, and then lied to him.

-He oft asked for you, your father-. Alicent softly says. She saw Daeron’s immediate surprise and how he instantly smiled. That made her to show her teeth.

-Did he?-, the young princeling asks, wide-eyed and smiley, wanting more than ever to had been here much much sooner.

-He did, many a time-. His mother whispers tenderly, gripping his hand, and caressing his white hair with other. Daeron sincerely smiles to her, lifting his blushed cheeks.

Alicent loves him.

-And did he also…?-

-You ought to sleep, my love-. The Queen interrupted him with a funny reproachful tone, raising her brows. The prince inevitably chuckles, standing up from the bench. She had to look up; all her children are taller than her.

-I shall then-. Daeron agrees, caressing her fingers. Alicent smiles softly to him, blinkless, appreciating his manly features yet all his soft-hearted gestures-. Good night, mom-. He leans forward, placing a sweet kiss on one of her cheeks.

While her son kisses her cheek, and she kisses back one of his, a part of Alicent starts to regret having sent him to bed, and whishes to keep chatting and feeling this kind of tranquility. But she’s also right; her son must rest.

-Sleep well-, she whispered, caressing his fingers with love.

-My queen!-. A startled voice called her from one second to another, Cole’s.

Mother and son both turned their heads with easiness. Still holding hands, Alicent has calm in her eyes and Daeron a little smile on his lips.

-Ser Criston-, the Queen greets him with raised brows. The knight looks highly relieved, walking into the Godswood.

-Worry not, my mother was not alone here-. The prince talks with a funny smile, starting to walk towards the stiff knight. From behind, still standing in front of the bench, her mother chuckles. The sound surprised her Sworn Protector-. Please see that my mom reaches her bedchambers safely, Ser-. He asks.

-I shall see it done, my prince-. Cole immediately agreed. Daeron winks an amused eye.

-Ser Criston-, he farewelled him with a respectful nod, smiling.

-My prince…-, the knight mumbled, nodding back to him.

After a last smile, Daeron left the Godswood. After her child left, Queen Alicent blinked many a time, and the smile on her face got erased. Feeling again her usual uneasiness, she gulped and breathed heavily.

She turns around and approaches to her Sworn Protector, who quickly walked towards hers as well, armored as always.

-Has something happened, Ser Criston?-. She asks distressedly.

-Nothing, Your Grace-. He quickly answered, standing firmly while looking at her-. I had been looking for you for a while, my Queen. Couldn’t find you-. The knight explained his former anguish.

When hearing no bad new, and the man’s worriness, the Queen sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds, relieved but still stressed.

-I was at the Sept praying, Ser Criston-. Alicent informed, scratching her forehead and making her bracelets to jingle.

Cole pressed his lips, staring at her with his brown big eyes, which blinked two times with growing unquietness. He takes a step closer, making her to open her eyes when he suddenly whispered.

-I beg your pardon for my boldness, Your Majesty, but you should not be wandering alone, neither outside the castle gates nor at night-. He mumbled with shame but insistence, looking over her shoulder while talking.

-The Sept is safe-, Alicent shakes her head briefly, making her long curly red mane to bounce with her while a troubled smile.  

-…Yet these are not safe times, Your Grace-. The brown-haired knight murmured, this time looking down at her, with loosen brows and blinkless eyes.

Dowager Queen Alicent’s eyes started to became wary. She presses her lips, recalling the events that took place in the Dragonpit, where The Queen Who Never Was and her dragon Meleys broke the pit’s floors, rumbled roars of war, and nearly slashed their fury above all Alicent’s family, if it hadn’t been until a sudden change of heart from the Princess Rhaenys. Only her sudden mercy saved their lives, after attempting against them.

That’s when Alicent gulps, truly understanding his meanings. Cole stares at her with the same worried shame.

-I am your Sworn Protector, my Queen-. He recalled, justifying the advice he just gave her.

-You’re right-. Her airy and weary voice agreed with him, nodding-…you are-. She expanded her lips into a close sad grin.

Softly, Cole nods, lightly lifting the sides of his lips. She did the same and, with this, Queen and Sworn Protector gifted each other tiny but sincere smiles under the white light of the moon.

The redhead woman sighed through her nose, crossing her hands over her belly, and taking a last look around.

-Walk with me, Ser Criston-. She asks, beginning to walk calmly. Doubtlessly, he followed her by her side, as always.

They got into the castle, now walking among the great pale red walls of The Red Keep, having the light of multiple torches along their way.

Queen Alicent sighs, staring front.

-I wanted Daeron to come to King’s Landing not only to have the many dragons as possible with us, but to have him with us too-. She comments, briefly raising her brows under the listen of her guard-…Wanted to be able to see with mine own eyes that he was safe-, she mumbles, looking around as they walk.

Criston looks sideways at her for a second, silently moved by how she talks about her younger son. Seconds the, she sighed, highly heavily.

-Although, now that he is indeed here, I must confess a certain…uneasiness, regarding his safeness…-Alicent mumbles. Cole furrows his brows, looking at her-. I now doubt whether if The Red Keep is the best place to accomplish so-. She admitted, glancing at her feet for a second-. Wonder if it’s safe for any of us-, she quickly murmured, breathing with heaviness.

-The Keep is strong, Your Grace-. Criston is quick to assure and slow to agree with her, in this case. The Queen gulps, gently side-eyeing him while they walk-. So are our men at arms, our dragons and our defenses-. He firmly listed, sure of his words. He stares at her, closing his lips for a quick second-. And so are you, my Queen-. The knight added with confidence.

Alicent stops walking, looking at the floor. Ser Criston stopped too, standing straight and firmly. The Queen gulped, turning her head to look at him. She took a glance around, seeing that they were alone, and afterwards approached to steps closer to him.

Cole almost felt his heart bursting out from his chest.

-We deserve naught of this paranoia, Ser Criston-. The Queen murmured, shaking her head-. The Iron Throne by rights must pass to His Grace’s eldest trueborn son-, she insisted with wide eyes, opening her hands and moving them tightly.  

-As it has always been, Your Grace-. He quickly nods.

-Not to mention that it was my late husband’s desires, his own words! And…and his brother, Rhaenyra’s husband, no other than Daemon…we all know that one’s nature-. Alicent afflicts her throat with sincere fright. His eyes got cold when thinking of The Rogue Prince.

-Make no mistake, should Rhaenyra ever sit the Iron Throne, it will be Lord Flea Bottom who rules us-. Ser Criston mumbled with sourness, clenching his armored hands to the sides of his robust body.

-A king consort as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was-. Queen Alicent whispered with bitterness. Criston hums, remembering the stories Aemond has read him of Maegor The Cruel, his Black Brides and his reigning years of terror-…Under his judgement, my father’s head will be the first cut off, I do not doubt it, but your Queen, myself, will soon follow-. She spoke with a low voice, constantly curving her brows.

-Your Grace-, he makes a disgusted worried face, scowling at her.

-Nor will their spare my children-. Alicent declared, gulping so strongly, and blinking with so much fright when saying it. Even the harsh Criston shivered when thinking of that-. Aegon and his brothers are the king’s trueborn sons, with a better claim to the throne than her brood of…plain-featured boys-. Even after Viserys’ death, she can’t find herself capable of saying the word “bastard” out loud, yet no still-. Daemon will find some pretext to put them all to death. Even Helaena and her little ones…-, she whispered, having fright on her eyes. Cole clenched his jaw-. One of her boys put out my Aemond’s eye, never forget, though he was a boy-. She remembers, speaking in whispers.

-He was a boy, aye, but the boy is the father to the man, and bastards are monstrous by nature-. Ser Criston didn’t have the Queen’s sensibility towards the word, and spoke it plainly and without shame. The redhead parted her lips, not stopping him-. Should the princess reign, Your Grace, Jacaerys Velaryon would rule after her; Seven save this realm if we seat a bastard on the Iron Throne-. He spoke bitterly, in whispers.

-And Daera Targaryen by his side-, The Queen whispered too with sourness. Criston pressed his lips harshly when hearing that name-. We can only expect the worst from that girl too, for she’s no different than her tribe-, she denied while shaking her head from one side to another-. What she did to those man in The Vale…butchered them whole…-, Alicent narrows her eyes, recalling that great fuss from those years.

-As her father did to our city as well-. Cole remembered when The Prince of The City took his Gold Cloaks and dismembered nearly half of the capital’s smallfolk, punishing thieves, offenders, rapists and all kinds of evildoers.

Alicent strongly clenches her teeth, approaching one step closer, and whispering even lower.

-And she did it again…when she was here…-, she informed. Criston opens his furrowed eyes bigly, listening closely-. Ash and bone were taken to Flea Bottom by the breeze, from the coast where her dragon always nests-. Alicent whispers, narrowing her eyes-. The same day that she arrived to court with a brain-stained dress and tears of red on her hair-. She pointed out, recalling.

Criston immediately remembers that day, and how she walked into the hall of the Iron Throne with a cocky smile, all bathed in blood. Moments later, her father, The Rogue Prince, was decapitating Ser Vaemond Velaryon.

Alicent gulps, remembering the detailed report that the master of whisperers and Lord Confessor, Lord Larys “Clubfoot” Strong, brought to her about the mine of ashes on Kalistrox’s nest, and the smallfolk that attested to have heard voices of despair pleading for mercy in the air.

-…A bastard and a madwoman ruling the Seven Kingdoms…-, Ser Criston’s murmur came with sourness and angriness whilst he shook his head-. Unforgiving-, he denied.

-It is not just that it cannot be, but that it is not what should-. Queen Alicent raises her brows, insistent-. That chair belongs to my son-, she places a hand on her chest, over her heart-…It always has. Viserys told it to me…long ago too-. She confessed, blinking slowly.

When that came to be said, Ser Criston grew confused, not understanding the “long ago”, for the King died just recently. Alicent opens her mouth, but closes it quickly when seeing a brown-skinned servant walking nearby.

The Queen and her Protector remained silent. The servant, carrying a lemon cake on her hands, bowed her head and quickly walked away, soon turning on a corner and going elsewhere.

Alicent licks her lips, and breathes in deeply, looking at him again.

-Your Grace-, he whispers and nods, listening to her.

-When I was pregnant with Helaena…Viserys told me about a dream of his, a dream that- well, a dream that he had when Queen Aemma was still alive-. She whispered, surprising the knight, for he thought about how long ago that was-. He dreamed of a son birthed to him, being crowned!-. Alicent curved her brows, speaking with passion. Ser Criston parted his lips, shocked-. My husband expressed to me how much he desired that to be truth, how he saw in that dream The Conqueror’s crown placed on his son’s head and his sword on his hand-. The Queen recalls as if it has been yesterday, as it has been moments ago, and not more than twenty years-…He said he wanted it…-, she murmured slowly, blinkless, remembering that night.

Ser Criston, speechless, watches her every move and listens to her every word. This just reassures everything they’re fighting for; he thinks.

-He told me on Aegon’s second nameday-. Alicent confessed, closing her eyes for a few moments. Criston opened his widely, instantly remembering those times, that night, that hunt in the Kingswood where Rhaenyra made a fuss out of her emotions, as always, drowning herself in a cup of water.

Cole parts his lips, taking the information in. Moments then, he speaks.

-Prince Aemond once told me about the dreams some Targaryen have…-, he recalls with a low voice, and she starts to nod-. If I’m not mistaking…Daenys the Dreamer dreamed Old Valyria’s doom-. The knight says, thoughtful.

-Which happened, eventually, within the years; Daenys’ dream was true-. Alicent quickly nods, raising her brows. He gulps; he has always been kind of fascinates -to not say intimidated- by the Targaryens and their history-. Viserys’ is too-. She thinly whispers, from the bottom of her heart. Her knight looks at her with big secure eyes.

-It will be, my Queen-. He nods under the crystal hazel gaze of hers-. I shall be by your side and your children’s, until my last breath, Your Grace-. Fiercely, he promised, never blinking.

Alicent curves her brows, and gulps. She appreciates it heartily, closing her eyes while nodding. The Queen sighs with distress, caressing her forehead, realizing just now that she had been sweating.

-I thank you, Ser Criston…-. A soft whisper left her lips. He nods with determination.

Dowager Queen Alicent gulps, and then starts to form a smile on her closed lips. A minute then, she opens her eyes, and looks at him.

-…Helaena is with child-, she informed with an easy mumble. Ser Criston instantly froze; any firm look on him faded away and his eyes immediately shined with surprise and happiness, his mouth went open.

Such expression from her serious guard made the Queen laugh openly, which she rarely does.

-Maester Orwyle says her course is three moons already-. Alicent whispered with great emotion.

Ser Criston took the liberty to laugh, curving his brows, and clenching his teeth with excitement and pride.

And, as they speak of Helaena, let us turn to her…

Queen Helaena’s handmaiden, Claudia, delivered a small-sized lemon cake to the Queen’s chambers when she asked her for that favor. Claudia recalled it was not a favor but a duty for her to obey her commands; Helaena pointed out that not when it was this late and she should be asleep.

Nevertheless, the kind Claudia had not trouble in bringing the dessert to her rooms. After thanking her, and gifting her a slice of the cake, Helaena took the pastry into her bedchambers, having a shining smile on her lips, showing all her teeth.

The Queen sliced two slices of cake. Now we find her kneeled on the bed and, in front of her, are her two children. The twins both excitedly see their mother handing them a slice of lemon cake for them to enjoy; she was giggling as she handed it to them.

-Happy name day…-, Helaena whispered with a glim of love on her purple eyes.

Jaehaerys was the first one to cheer, shrieking and immediately starting to eat. Jaehaera soon followed, taking a big bite of cake with a smile on her face. Kneeled and slouched in front of them, Helaena scrunched her nose into a smile and clapped excited.

The mother sees how her twins enjoy their dessert. The hour has grown late, indeed, but it seems that neither of them are sleepy. In the solitude and darkness of the bedchambers, Queen Helaena is happy to share this moment with her children, who are already a year now. Time flies…

While they eat calmly, the Queen sweetly pushed the twin’s heads with softness and neared them to her to place tender kisses on both their cheeks. She laughed so happily when feeling the kids kissing her too, leaving crumbs of cake on her pale skin.

After kissing their mother, they went on with their dessert.

-Oh-, Helaena giggles with sweetness, passing a thumb in Jaehaera’s lips to clean some crumbs-. Messy girl-, she whispered along funny chuckles.

-Um-, Jaehaera emits amusing sounds while her mother cleans her-. Daera-, a sudden babble left her lips.

In that moment, the white-haired woman froze, slowly getting away her hand from her girl.

-Yes-, she silly whispers.

-Daera-. ‘Twas Jaehaerys now who spoke.

-UH- Yes!!-. Their mother laughs, covering her mouth that smiled greatly.

Helaena blinks in shock, not believing that they had just named Daera; they haven’t seen her for days already, and still said her name for the first time, perfectly and- and she’s not here to listen.

Helaena feels her lips starting to tremble, and bitter tears coming up to her sudden sad eyes while she still smiles. The Queen feels her children miss their aunt. And for the love of whoever god that exists, she does too. Daera hasn’t left her mind nor heart since the last time she saw her. She just never leaves.

But now they’re apart, far away and completely oblivious to when they shall see each other again. These quarrel between their families, these stupid acts…

Helaena sobs weakly, closing her sad eyes while her lips curved down. She weeps Daera’s name, yearning and longing for her. What’s happening scares her so much, and what’s to come scares her even deeper. It is not worry about herself she worries; is about the ones she loves…the ones that are far in more danger.

“Daera, Daera, Daera…”

It seems that Helaena got so excited when Claudia brought her the lemon cake, that when she closed the door and walked to her twins with pure happiness, forgot to lock.

The doors are opened without notice, making the Queen to quickly turn around her head, still slouched on the bed. Entering to her chambers she found her King husband, arriving with weary steps, baggy eyes, long thin scarring wounds in his arms, and a great bulk on his pants.  

Helaena’s face instantly became paler than usual, and her throat afflicted. Her husband grumbles, delicately closing the doors of the bedchamber. He did lock.

-Come-, his hoarse voice fills the room. Her superior lip tremble, looking at his red tired eyes-. Come-, he did a soft hand gesture to her.

-‘Tis the children’s birthday-. She is quick to say, weakly and fearful, blinkless.

-Helaena, I said come-. The King raises his brows. He limped for a second, too drunk to keep a straight posture-. Come, come, come-. He tsks his tongue, hating she was so still.

-Not in front of them please-. The Queen wept with a shaky voice.

Impatient and chaotic, Aegon II growled with despair and shot out walking quickly towards the bed of the room. Queen Helaena gasped and fastly came down of it from the other side. The children’s father grunts, clashing his hands on the mattress with distress.

After rapidly glancing at the children, the Queen turned around and ran further from there; thus, he followed her and got away from the kids.

-When I tell you to come…!-, Aegon left the rest of his words in the air, spitting on the floor as he ran foolishly to her, nearly stumping.

Helaena breathes fastly, coming out to the balcony with fast steps and scared eyes. She looks everywhere within a second, clearly knowing she got no way out. When she looked down for a millisecond, she saw the spikes below Maegor’s Holdfast.

-…YOU COME!!-. Aegon reached her angrily, surprising her from behind, and grabbing her wrists with great strength.

Queen Helaena gasped airless when he touched her, nearly breaking her neck when she looked up as if she was burned in a pyre. She looked up, and yet what she saw wasn’t the moon nor the stars.

She saw a thousand hanging men of blue, red and green flowing blood.

She saw her mother standing on the shore of a lake.

She saw a white curly mane burning.

Aegon made Helaena to end on the floor, forcing her to sit, only to then crawl over her, pressing his manhood against her shaky closed legs. His queen cries with fear, eyes-closed, shaking her head while mumbling nonsenses.

-They dance…-. Helaena cries with a broken voice, suddenly gasping for air and opening her eyes. She finds Aegon on top of her; she feels his kisses on her neck and his hand searching for her womanhood-. N-no! No! No!-. She shrieks as an agonizing hart, wanting to crawl away from his touch.

-Ay no no no, Helaena, you- Just stay quiet, bitch-. Aegon tsks his tongue with so much annoyance, babbling out his words, keeping her wrists prisoners of his hands.

Helaena’s red throat pains while she cries endlessly, strongly closing her eyes while her tits are being licked and her skirt lifted. The Queen lets out a scared sob, now moveless. Her husband sighed with the smile of a fool, feeling her warm body.

With a hand, Aegon gets his cock out and taps it against his wife’s thighs, making her to squeal with great horror. She grunted a cry and nearly turned around to craw far from him, but he quickly let go of his member and grabbed both her hands again.

-No!-, a broken sob leaves the Queen’s itchy throat.

-I came here to fuck-. Aegon smiles charmingly, looking down at her with his red eyes-. Not to be suffocated by all this fucking weeping!-, he erased his smile and whispered right to her face with anger.

Helaena sobs, pressing her trembling lips, looking at her greatest nightmare talking above of her; he’s a demon paralyzing her.

-Your running away’s from me are at an end-. Aegon growls maniacally, violently pushing one of her legs, opening them. Helaena cries endlessly, shaking her head from side to side-. I am King now-, he whispers bitterly.

He harshly gripped her chin, squeezing it, and from a moment to another penetrated her dry womanhood within a second, completely entering it. The Queen let out a cry so hurted, afflicting her throat and showing her teeth with pain.

On the other hand, The King afflicted his throat with pleasure, and showed his teeth when he smiled madly.

-Oh, yeah-. He moans, thrusting into her time after time.

Unable to cry out loud due to the hand squeezing her mouth and chin, The Queen can’t but cry silently, moveless and speechless, only hoping for it to be over already.

-You…-, King Aegon II’s red eyes of madness stared right at hers. She’s now realizing that there’s blood under his left eye-. You are to serve me, sister-. He declared with a cough and a smile.

Helaena sobs terribly, feeling all of his violent thrusts, his violent grip. The Queen, weakly, could glance at her children for one quick second. She cried harder when finding them watching at them with parted lips; they’re no longer eating cake.

Queen Helaena weeps with great terror, closing her eyes strongly.

A thousand hanging men of blue, red and green flowing blood.

Her mother standing on the shore of a lake.

A white curly mane burning.

-They danc-…!-. Helaena whines while her husband moans with a smile, trying his best to ignore her and just enjoy of her body-. They dance with crooked shoes!-, a broken sob left her throat.

-SHUT IT!-. Done with her nonsense, King Aegon punched his Queen right in her head.

And so Helaena was plunged into temporary darkness; she found calm.

■ ■ ■

Be welcomed to The Neck.

The narrow isthmus that connects the North to the rest of Westeros.

We’re now right beyond the border of the riverlands; we’re now officially in the North. Winds have change, of course; the wind is colder and harsher, dry but at the same time it makes one’s forehead sweat.

The swamplands of the Neck are by far the largest in all of Westeros, making it a rather unique biome. During day you can appreciate deep green trees, a lot of moss everywhere, and frogs jumping all around. However, ‘tis nighttime now, and the moonlight is not enough to light the lushness at its best.

Jace, Daera and their dragons had flown as discreetly as possible between the clouds of the night, for they didn’t want anyone to see them; they succeeded. The princes and their dragons took place as deeply in the swamp as possible, away enough from any camp and small civilization they checked from the skies. After wandering above the woods for some time, they decided upon a clean spot clean of mud or subterranean caves -at least cleaner the other spots-.

To their better accommodation, they opened in the ground as many of the bedsheets they could. They left two apart to cover themselves when they went to sleep, and with the remaining made an improvised mattress, not royally thick but neither too thin. In a free-of-sheet spot they left in the middle, they lighted a modest fire with a gentle sigh from Vermax.

With their “camp” now established, the princes are lying in their improvised mattress of fur. Both Daera and Jace have their heads resting in their luggage, using them as pillows. Both of them also have their respective dragon right by their side, keeping them warmer and safer. Basically, they’re surrounded by their dragons, who’re also lying in the ground.

Jacaerys is nearly falling asleep, tenderly watched by Vermax, who’s face is resting by his, breathing calmly too. On the other side, Daera has a golden tall wall by her. Kalistrox head rests over a fallen tree whilst his tail is nearly reaching the shore of a lake that is far from them. You cannot even imagine how uncomfortable it was for him to land in the swamp, watching to not mess with any tree. Matters to say that the one he’s resting his chin in is one of three he accidentally threw with one of his horns.

The Rogue Princess, playing with the handles of both her sword and her new dagger, which both remain strapped to the belt on her waist, watches her dragon with dearness. She raises a hand; her sweet fingers and palm caress Kalistrox’s limbs, lightly scratching them. The Golden Ray sighed loudly and purred with gentleness, blinking slowly. His princess smiled quietly.

The dragon’s sound made prince Jacaerys to open his sleepy eyes within a second, for they took him out of his nearing sleep. He breathes in with tiredness, humming lowly and scratching his eyes.

-Ouh shit-, the princess turns her head to look at him-. Sorry, did I wake you up?-. She whispers with same, scrunching her nose.

-No no, I was just resting my eyes-. The prince answers with a kind smile, and a hoarse sleepy voice. His sister snorts a little laugh, curving his brows-. Hmmm…-, he sighs again, crossing his arms behind his head-. They still ought to eat-, he remembers.

-Uhum-, his wife nods, eyeing Kalistrox while still caressing him. Jace lifts his gaze towards the Golden Dragon, feeling that it is a fortress that he’s looking at, for the beast is so tall and thick. He gulped, having the greatest of respects for his siter’s dragon.

-…He’s growing by the second, I think-. Prince Jacaerys murmured after some moments of quietness. Not looking at him, Daera lifted her lips into a small prideful smile.

-He is-, she agrees, whispering while scratching his limbs.

-Does he still fits in the Pit?-. He questions with curiosity, narrowing his eyes.

-I think he still does, at least he did the last time-. Daera shrugges, cocking her head-. Barely-, she quickly pointed, lifting a finger.

-‘Tis no wonder to me-. Jace mumbles, watching at his impeccable golden scales. He presses a smile, caressing Vermax’s horn with slowness.

Daera looks at Kalistrox distanced face. Her dragon eyed back at her, which made her to smile, kindly lifting her lips as a mother to her child would when seeing him laugh. The dragon purrs and closes his eyes, at ease.

The princess keeps staring at him, slowly becoming thoughtful. Jace looks at her again, finding her purple eyes looking at the fire interestedly; she looks beautiful.

-Do you remember that time when we were in the Dragonmont, walking over Vermithor’s nest?-. Daera asks from a moment to another, turning his head to look at him.

-Yes-, Jace quickly answers with an easy tone, raising his brows-. The other day when Daemon dared us to walk into the cave, and you almost did?-. He narrows his eyes with a playful smile.

-Haha-, his sister cackles two times. Jace chuckles, curving his brows-. That day-, she nods-. Well, did you know that…? Ah-. The princess accommodates herself better, turning her body to face him completely. Jacaerys did the same, interested, trying to not fix his eyes on the beautiful curve her waist has when lying sideways.

-Why?-. He questions, speaking curiously.

-I almost did because I wanted to see him, to see if Kalistrox could already be larger than him-. The princess confessed with honesty. That surprised his brother, whose eyes shined.

-Vermithor is to be said the second largest-. He murmurs, thinking of Vhagar, who is the first-. Do you think it possible?-. Jace asks with great interest.

-All the dragonkeepers from both Dragonstone and King’s Landing keep telling me these last moons is how much Kalistrox has been growing!-. The Rogue Princess speaks with a passionate hope, nodding quickly-. Vermithor barely flies out of his cave, what-…what if Kalistrox is bigger?-. She whispered, narrowing her eyes while picturing it.

-Can you imagine?-. Jacaerys smiles mesmerized, with narrow eyes too. His sister smiled, gladden with his same enthusiasm-. So, you wanted to know…-, he mumbles as he nods, recalling that day again.

-I still do-. The princess corrected him. Her brother raised his brows with acceptance, and she sucked her inferior lip with funniness.

Jacaerys gives her a cheerful smile, giggling lowly while looking at her. Daera chuckles lightly, still sucking her lips when she took a look around them.

A thousand cricket sing near them, as a hundred frogs do too. The sound of a stream soothes their ears when there is silence, which there was, until the white-haired spoke again.

-‘Tis weirdly ugly here, don’t you think?-. She comments, studying the surroundings. Prince Jacaerys did the same, only that with a growing smile on his humid lips-. Still, the northmen have never been known for a taste on eye-lusty lands-, she shrugges.

-What are they known for?-. The prince asks with an amused calmed tone. His wife makes a pout with her lips, thinking for two seconds.

-Baela once said they’re too pretty and too serious-. Daera shrugged, and he started to laugh-. I guess that sums them up pretty well-, she laughs as well.

-We shall see-. Jace raised his brows; she looked at him with cocky eyes, humming lowly when thinking about the lord they’ll be meeting soon-. And as an opposite to your statement, sister, I must admit I find certain beauty in this land-. He admitted with no shame, gaining a funny curious face from her-. Knowing something or someone’s story makes them more dazzling, I’d dare to say-. Jace nodded to a side.

-Ouh!-. Daera raises her brows-. Oh well, then…-. The princess drags herself a little closer and takes more comfort on her position, opening her eyes wide and smiling hugely when exaggerating curiosity-. I’m all ears-, she said with a funny voice.

Her brother-husband lifted his blushing cheeks and laughed. He took the liberty to also get closer, which his wife stared at with calculating smiling eyes, quietly.

-Well, there’s no much to it-. Jacaerys smiles modestly. She snorts and he grinned, rolling his eyes blank for a second-. In ancient times, the Neck was ruled by the Marsh King of the crannogmen-. And so Jace uses his “studying voice”, that he always employs whether when reading, discussing politics or -a new addition- treating with lords and ladies about alliances. Daera raises her brows, listening with a smile-. They submitted to House Stark when Rickard Stark, King in the North, defeated the Marsh King and took his daughter as wife-. He tells.

-Romantic-, she mumbles. Jacaerys licks his lips within a smile, looking down for a second.

-The crannogmen have maintained their ancient allegiance to House Stark, though…well, contact between them and the outside world has faded away to almost nothing, in these past years-. He mumbles while cocking his head, speaking softly-. Maester Gerardys told me-, he added-. But yet I know that the Starks wouldn’t even dream with disengage The Neck from them-, Jacaerys denies.

-Why not?-, she asked with a tender whisper, loving how he knows and speaks his histories by heart.

-The Neck presents a formidable tactical obstacle to anyone planning to invade the North!-. Jace responded with obviousness, raising his brown brows. She giggles and nods with great interest-. Did you know this place was instrumental in holding off the Andals during the coming of the Andals six thousand years ago?-. He asks with bemusement, shaking his head.

-Now I do-, the princess nodded, and he scoffed with marvel, now nodding.

-But, however, it is not effective against…ha, airborne dragons-. The prince said with undeniable pride, eyeing the two beast that sleep by their side.

-Such realization lead King Torrhen Stark, the last King in the North, to his decision to bend the knee to Aegon the Conqueror during the Conquest-. Princess Daera spoke with cocky smile and tone, raising her brows. Her husband licked his lips while smiling, nodding-. I used to read that story with father nearly every night, back in Pentos-. She remembers.

-Ah-, Jace smiles to her, slowly nodding.

-Hum-, Daera lets out a cute chuckle, turning her head to look at the white moon above-. The Conquest…-, she whispers-. Well, we already have something to chat about with Lord Cregan-. Daera cheers funnily.

-Aye-. The prince laughs, cheering too-. And a lot more of things-, he added.

-Yes…-. The princess breathes in deeply while looking around, not knowing that her husband is forever staring at her-. The North may not be the fastest ally, due to its location, but they surely will be the worthiest-. Daera points out with honesty, blinkless for a few second. She hears him humming, agreeing with her-…You’re right-. She mumbled.

-About what?-, he questions with a soft voice.

-Something is more dazzling when knowing its history-. Daera said into a playful sweet tone, looking at the trees and the stars above.

Blinkless, Jacaerys lifts the sides of his lips into a thoughtful expression. While feeling Vermax’s near body keeping him warm, the prince soon speaks his mind again.

-May I ask something, then, about our history?-. He questions with politeness, making her to look at him again. Her purple eyes smiled.

­-Targaryen or Velaryon? I know many-, she proposes-. Wanna hear ‘bout King Aenys I and how I would give my live to have met him?-. Her face lit up with pride.

-…Us-. The Velaryon prince softly corrected her, barely moving his lips when whispering. Daera blinks bigly, only one time, staring at him with inevitable surprise-. I mean about…us…-, he whispered. And soon, she began to nod.

-You may-, she agreed.

-On our wedding night...why didn't you consummate with me?-. Jacaerys didn’t wait to ponder his question; Daera felt time froze. He’s blushing fastly-…Why didn't we?-, he murmurs.

-I…-, Daera blinks very slowly, finding the right words while beginning to shrug her shoulders-. I think that…I think that I never had thought about it before, honestly-. She has-. Good question-. She points at him.

-Uhum-, Jacaerys nods, patiently but presently waiting for an answer.

Daera presses her lips and sighs through her nose while staring at him. The answer is far from simple and yet it consists of an only word: Aemond.

-I guess I was heart-broken-. The princess Daera answered with a low tone, shrugging-. I was…besotted with another, you see…-

She still is.

-You have always been my brother-. Daera murmurs, lightly furrowing her brows. Jace watches her with attentive eyes and listening ears-. I always loved you as so-. She points out with a soft tone, nodding-. So, to have been turned into your wife, from a day to another, well…-. The princess sighs, opening her eyes big when she sighed with pure honesty-…I didn’t desire you-. She declared.

-Now you do?-. Jace’s question was automatic, asked within a second. Daera parted her lips, surprised. It was just then that the prince realized his thoughts had slipped out of his lips. He gulps, feeling heat reaching his cheeks.

Before speaking, the prince had been thinking about what took place in the Eyrie, between them. He thought about everything: Daera grabbing his jacket’s neck and pulling him closer to her; she purring at him, pushing down his shoulder so his mouth met her womanhood; she moaned with a smile and, while caressing his brown mane between her legs, called him a good boy.

Remembering all that apparently made the prince ask his question without much anticipation. But, accepting that he already did it, he moved on, and spoke again.

-Do you feel that I am…enough?-. He questions, narrowing his brown eyes. Nerves glim in them.

In that moment, sincere curiosity glammed on Daera’s purple orbs. The princess breathed in, accommodating her shoulders on their mattress; she got closer to him, blinkless under his gaze, which follows her every move.

She didn’t answer; but made another question herself.

-From the first day we were wed, and even days before that, I noticed that…-Daera narrowed her eyes, speaking firmly and curiously-…that you did want to consummate our marriage…-, the princess murmured.

They both recall that night. They had to sleep together, as the Seven dictate it must be done on a wedding night. They shared a bed, same blanket and same big pillow. She was drinking wine, jesting, joking, giggling all around; she was content…but she never touched him. And him…well, it seemed as Jace was starving even for a kiss on his cheek, or a caress on his hair, even a blow from her breath to his lips.

-You wanted to do it-. Daera points within a mumble, blinking slowly. She sees how his cheeks has gotten redder than before; he is not blinking, looking at her while nodding lightly-. And yet, you have always seen me only as your sister-. She says, recalling the feelings he used to have for Baela, their sister, not her. They’re faded now, since a long ago, but the question still rises-…Why was it so easy for you?-. The princess asked, confused.

Jacaerys breathed in through his nose, staring at her. The reflection of the fire flames dances in her confused face, in her curious violet eyes. Her long curly mane wiggles a little too, with the wind and Vermax’s breathing. After some seconds, the prince let a sigh out.

-Because I knew who I was getting wedded to-. The Heir to the Iron Throne answered with firmness, closing his eyes. In that moment, Daera grew even more confused, tilting her head to a side-. You are one of the most beautiful maidens of the realm, if not the most. Each lord -either paramount or vassal-, each steward, servant and knight speak of your beauty everywhere I go, anywhere I step into. There have been tourneys on your honor, men fighting for your favor and bless! Quarreling to just have you to look at them!-. Jacaerys speaks with admiration, narrowing his eyes.

Daera, bemused, listens with parted lips, which started to smile with surprise and flattery while looking at him. The princess scoffs while he talks, seeing the shine on his eyes, listening to the passion in his voice.

-I took as my wife the most precious and desired woman in the Seven Kingdoms-. Jace declared, straightening his shoulders whilst he talks, slowly taking seat in the mattress. She follows him with her eyes, having her head resting on one of her hands. He looked down at her, and stuttered, blinkless. Then he sighed; his shoulders fell-… I wanted to be up to the gift of owning that-. He confessed, simple but sincere, shrugging.

Warmly, Daera looks at him, curving her brows a little. That was shortly, for then she snorted with amusement.

-Oh-, she closed her eyes and widened a sarcastic smile on her lips-. So I am a responsibility for you, huh?-. Daera questioned with fun, laughing burlesque. Jace quickly furrows his brows, shaking his head with confusion-. Tell me, brother, is everything a duty for you?-. She tauntly asks, scrunching her nose.

-You are not following-. He fastly denied, firmly. Funnily, she pressed her smiling lips and nodded with gentleness, allowing him to speak again, thinking that she’d hear more of the same-. I see you as no trophy, I swear this to you-. The prince declared with a stiff lip, never stuttering nor blinking. His sister looks at him with eyes that slowly started to lose all glim of diversion-. I see you for what you are: someone there are no two of. I wanted to be enough for you-. Jace narrowed his eyes, slouching; his face got a little closer to hers, who’s staring at him with parted lips, shocked-…I still want to-. He confessed, true and honest.

The princess stares at him with reading eyes, analyzing every expression he makes. All are sincere and filled of dearness. He is speaking his truth, perhaps for the first time since the day they were wed.

-It’s not that is my responsibility to make you happy; I know you can very well achieve it on your own account-. Jace laughed a little, raising his brows. Shocked, Daera chuckles lightly too, curving her frown while looking at him at all moments. His brown eyes are dilatated-. It’s just that…you deserve that effort from me, it is the least- the least you deserve-. Jacaerys whispers as he touches his chest with his own warm hands, tapping his ten fingers over his heart, which is beating so fastly-. And as your husband -call it “duty”, if you so like- I want to give it to you; I want to make you happy-. The prince said with pure genuineness and openness.

Bemused, Daera lift she lifts the corner of her lips, curving her brows as well while looking at him with an inevitable tenderness, and surprise. “How not to feel this moved, this warmed?” She’s speechless, for he had never been so honest before, not like this. Not this…beautifully, in search of nothing more than acceptance from her.

Taking advantage of the tremendous loneliness of the swamp, the great distance from their home, and that he has already said too much, he sent all nerves to the Seven Hells…and leaned closer to his sacred wife.

-I lust for you, Daera…-. Jacaerys confessed with the sweetest of whispers, and the warmest of eyes. Daera gasped briefly, opening her lips, looking at him with pureness, and a light smile that began to thrive on her lips. He looks at them, breathing deeply-. I love you-, he murmured, a little weak now.

It is now that everything makes sense, that everything clicked in the princess’ mind. Jacaerys, her “fake” husband, had been slowly and silently falling in love with her…and it is just now that he’s having the guts to confess it, when they are at the other side of the world, in a cold swamp with their dragons.

-Oh…-, Daera sighed, raising a hand and placing it on his neck, caressing his brown hair with her tender fingers. He breathes deeply, always staring at her-. I love you too, Jace-. She warmly said, dragging her fingers to a side of his face to caress his burning cheek. He lightly raised his brows, lost on her purple loving eyes-…I always have…-, the princess whispered, honest.

Jace scoffed, with a happiness and nerves that he couldn’t hide very well. He bit the inner of his cheeks, sucked his inferior lips, and looked down whilst trying to hide a smile, chewing it. That expression remembered her of Rhaenyra. Daera leaned her head to a side and looked at him with a dear grin, feeling how warm his cheeks are.

-Oh, for the gods’ sake…-. Daera whispers, narrowing her eyes. She is so moved; she is so happy he has told her this. Why? Why is she? How does she exactly feel about this? Why doesn’t it bother her, as their whole marriage once did?

-I know that we married off for duty, but…-. Jace speaks, looking up again. He takes both her hands, resting his chin in them. Daera snorts a cute laugh, wrinkling the sides of her eyes-. But…!-, he laughs too, caressing her fingers-…I have learned so much from you, Daera; you have taught me so much-. He declares, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes-. I only ever want your best-. Jace whispers with softness.

-And I yours, my prince…-. Daera murmured with the same tenderness as him, feeling the soft caresses on her fingers.

Jace smiled to her, not showing his teeth. Moments then, that smile slowly started to fade away, which confused her.

-What is it?-. She whispers, holding his hands tighter. He smiles lightly again, looking up at her, then gulping, then fading his smile again.

-I also wanted to ask about…about Aemond-. Jace spoke, inevitably uncomfortable, pressing his lips.

When Daera heard his name, her body froze. She didn’t see it -thank the gods she didn’t- but when Aemond was named, her eyes flickered, and afterwards they blinked with what appeared to be shame, and embarrassment. Jace did notice it, gulping.

-Can I ask?-. With honesty, the prince asked for permission, patiently. His wife looked down with sad eyes, not wanting him to see the glum in her pupils, but he is. After some silent seconds, she starts to nod, allowing him to continue.

This is the first time they have said The One-Eyed Prince’s name between them, since they got married. He had faded to Daera’s past, until now.

-It has been a year already, I think, or nearly a year-. Jacaerys mumbles, starting to caress her fingers again. She gulps strongly, thinking of Aemond and all the- the wrongs he has done to her-. Do you…do you think this was the right decision?-. And so, Jace asked with no restriction. Her lips almost trembled in that moment, looking at him with them pressed-. Us?-, he whispered.

Slowly, Daera takes her hands away from his, taking seat in front of him while crossing her arms on her chest. The prince gulps, patient. Daera looks down, feeling a great lump on her throat, and a thousand knives on her heart.

She imagines a reality where she had never really been with Aemond; one where she would have married Jace, with heart and desire, not convenience and politics. A reality where he had never followed her into Flea Bottom, nor to that alley either. A reality where she had never seduced him first, nor defended his violence and cruelty. A reality where she…had never lied to her family and dear ones.

If that were her reality, she would have saved herself from so much pain, dilemmas, arguments and fights with her family. She would have saved herself from so many tragedies. As soon as she heard of the usurpation of the Iron Throne, she and her dragon would have flown to King's Landing and would have burned them all.

When hearing Jace’s question, Daera’s head thought by its own, not sugar-coating anything. It thought this: Everything would be easier if she wasn’t in love with prince Aemond Targaryen.

To think that hurted her so much, her chest ached. Daera gulps and shakes her head from side to side, whilst her husband waits for an answer.

She smiles tinyly, looking at him.

-Had I continued walking down with Aemond…-, her eyes flickered for a second-…I’d be lost…-, she confessed within a whisper.

What hurted the most was that it is no lie, that it is no “if”. Daera Targaryen has been lost since she fell in love with Aemond Targaryen. How expensive that’s going to cost her.

-You…-, Daera takes Jace’s hands again, firmer than ever. Blinkless, he looks at her with determination and love. She gulps, wanting to cry, but not succumbing herself to it-. You are my right decision, Jace-. The princess declared with a stiff voice, looking into his brown eyes.

-Oh!-. In that moment, the prince breathed out with a huge smile, and a relieved expression. She gulps again and starts to smile as well, pampering his fingers with soft caresses-. I- I am glad to hear that-. He stutters. Daera softens her eyes, sighing while looking at him-. I was always afraid to ask; I was afraid you…you resented me-. He admitted, pressing his lips with embarrassment.

-What?-, she parts her lips, opening her eyes big.

-Hence why you- why you never slept with me-. Jacaerys stutters and shrugges, being honest with her.

-That’s not true-. Daera is quick to deny, shaking her head. She holds his hands stronger, nearing them to her chest. The brown-haired prince looks at her with heart-eyes, listening closely-. I would never, never resent you on Aemond’s behalf-. She promised with firmness-. I am not cruel…or stupid enough to do that-. Daera rolled her eyes.

Jacaerys showed his teeth, laughing tenderly. Unable to don’t too, Daera sighed and chuckled with him, closing her eyes. As soon as she did it, she saw Aemond’s face, so quickly opened them again, gulping.

Daera looks down, pressing her lips with a thoughtful gaze, under Jace’s loving one. Moments then, she breathed in and started to stand up. He quickly did so too, looking around and then at her again.

-They haven’t dined yet-. The princess spoke with a soft tone, staring at her golden awaked dragon. Jace quickly eyes Vermax, who purred, looking back at him.

-You’re right-. The prince nods, now tending all his attention to his dragon.

Daera blinks slowly, caressing Kalistrox while breathing in. She got lost on her mind, until he called her.

-Daera-, Jace named. When she turned around, got surprised when seeing him already on his saddle, ready to take flight-. Join me…-, his voice is tender and his smile a happy one, cocking his head towards the sky.

She smiles softly, looking at his brown eyes.

-I shall join you, in a minute-. The princess said-. You go ahead. I will put off the fire first-. She says, pointing at the flames with her purple eyes.

Narrowing his eyes with that smile still on his lips, Jacaerys nodded towards her, smitten.

-Sōves, Vermax-. The prince commanded him to fly with a soft mumble, patting his neck.

Within the seconds, the green dragon of yellow eyes took off from the woods, easily dodging the trees on his way, for he has the perfect size for it. Soon enough, the prince and his dragon were in the sky, looking for a proper supper for the majestic beast.

When she was left alone with her dragon, the princess Daera blinks in silence. Her eyes got lost in the humid mud, her hands on her abdomen.

Looking at the ground, she thinks of Aemond.

It feels the last time she saw him was ages ago, and it was far from a pleasing encounter. “Where do we stand now?”, she asks herself, worried and inevitably angry. He has been doing so bad, acting accord his family’s whishes and not taking hers in mind. What she said to Rhaenys before parting off Dragonstone is true; she wants to punish Aemond for his sick doings, for placing a rapist on the throne. She will, but…when? When are they to see each other again? Where, how? Is she to fly to Lovers Island and expect for him to go too? She cannot. What would they say to each other? Would he kiss her? Would he ask for forgiveness as soon as he sees her purple eyes again? Those that have always give him love and understanding. How could he have betrayed them? When will he be sorry for it? Because he will. She’s sure.

Caressing her belly, she thinks of Alyssa.

How is it that, in this world, things go on so quickly? One day she used to not see herself as a mother, then she wanted nothing but a child product of her love with her husband, then they agreed on it, the next day her husband made her to drink away that child. “How could it be?”. Daera dreamed, and lost her dream so fastly in the bat of a lash, the blink of an eye, the breaking of a heart. A babe was supposed to thrive on her royal belly, but it didn’t; perhaps the gods wanted so. “Fuck you gods then, and give me my child”, the princess cursed in her mind. Alyssa was conceived in Lovers’ Island. And the very next day, in that very same place, she was taken away.

Daera curves her brows, pressing her lips while she thinks in all of that. Feeling her deep sadness, and turning his head to look at her glum eyes, Kalistrox purred with sweetness, looking to comfort her.

-Please, don’t…-. His rider sighed with a tired voice when she heard him. The Golden Ray still purrs, lightly, as down as her. Daera shakes her head, squeezing her belly with her fingers-. You’ll make me cry, dearest…-, she said with unquietness, sniffing her nose, and forcing herself to draw her hands away from her belly-. I will not-, she declared.

He blinked slowly, looking at her. Daera straightens her shoulders, and blinks a few times; then she glanced at him.

-Jikãgon jurnegon syt issa (Go for your supper)-. The princess ordered raising her brows. Kalistrox growls lowly, eyeing the sky for a second and then at her-. Go!-, Daera pressed her lips when seeing him slowly standing up from the muddy ground. The golden dragon carefully lifts his wings, shaking his neck with a little doubt on his gaze-. You’re hungry-, she whispered.

After another low growl, Kalistrox opened his wings as big as possible, crawling a little away from there. Daera walks backwards with no hurry, stepping away from his thick tail. She crosses her hand over her belly, seeing him shaking his neck again with unquietness while looking at the multiple trees.

Moments then, The Golden Ray took off with one big flap from his wings, which lifted him up in the air within a second. His paw kicked the tall pines when flying across them. They wiggled like crazy. Their wood and sticks cracked, making the princess to look up with carefulness, watching that nothing fell on her.

Having learned from his difficult landing from before, Kalistrox took off with skilled maneuvers. He zig-zagged, as he has watched Caraxes do; no tree fell, and he headed towards the grey clouds while roaring out with sharpness and freedom, quickly getting away from the humidity. Inevitably, his rider looked up at him while siding a small smile.

-Smart boy-, she whispered to him along a little chuckle.

Daera is now by herself in this ugly, lush and lonely swamp. The princess looks down at the fire that still burns in the middle of the furs. While looking at it, the princess’ ears catch the sound of a nearby stream.

She made a pout with her lips, grabbed an empty jar they had use for their supper, and followed that sound with easy-going steps.

While walking, the princess thinks of how beautiful Lovers Island is. When the sun is not blessing it, a clear moon is. The sand is always white and warm, the waters fresh and sound. A kind breeze always blows softly towards their handmade hut, and in there their home is always waiting for them.

Daera tried to picture all that, but here, in this swamp. Many would think that it wouldn’t be the same at all, but the princess thinks it would be the very same. Lovers Island is beautiful, but its meaning does not fall on its beaches, sun and sand; but in the lovers that live there. This could very well be Lovers Swamp with no problem.

After chasing away a couple of curious frogs with her hands, Daera soon arrived at the place where that sound she followed came from. She arrives to a small river almost entirely covered by fog. In here are less crickets than in the other place, so it is quieter.

The princess keeps walking, grabbing the jar in one hand, and her own fingers in the other. She plans to take some water from the river, to go and kill off the fire, and then join Vermax and Jace in the skies. A flight would make her good right now, to be honest; she has a lot of stress to free.

But, postponing her task for a while, Daera stopped walking at the very shore of the river, and remained moveless. A cold breeze blows her dress and her curly mane, making it to bounce on her back. Her arms are loose to the sides of her body, applying no force. The fog in front of her gets sad when seeing her sad face.

Lighted by the cold white of the moon, Daera’s sleepless purple eyes stare at the nothingness while she gulps and presses her dry lips. Her gaze is lost, thoughtful, tired, sad and in the water.

They joy of having won three houses to their side in the half of a day remains in her with honesty; she’d never forget Jacaerys’ hopeful eyes every time that a lord or lady said yes to them. However, great part of her knows that they shouldn’t be even doing this. They are taking the bother to go house by house, knocking their doors and pleading for their support. “Who are they?” “Who are we?”.

Daera thinks how she and her husband have been going around the realm, like fucking beggars, having to give things in exchange to convince the Houses to fight and advocate by their side. It is ridiculous, to say the least! It its demeaning and degrading to go as so…

As future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Daera understand that exchanges, accords and betrothals are of great essence for the Iron Throne to keep good relations between the crown and its subjects. But we’re talking about war here, for the fuck’s sakes, not some feast or tourney, or wedding. Everyone should fight for the Blacks by law.

But no, here they are. They’ve licked Lady Jeyne Arryn’s cunt, given away Joffrey’s hand in marriage. The Houses are taking them as fools, it seems. And as the day goes by, Daera has been growing bitter and more bitter about it, not liking it one bit.

We are Targaryens.

The sound of a branch being stepped on brings the princess out of her thoughts. She blinks, still. Within seconds, two more branches crack, and then she detects the sound of footsteps in the mud.

After blinking again, Daera starts to slowly turn around. She turns her head with patience and a quiet expression, looking at what is behind her. And oh, gods be dammed, look at what we have here.

A group of five people has come out from the woods, arriving to the river with silent steps. There are three man and two women. They are all of small sizes; not dwarfs, but under the regular height of Westerosi people. They’re wearing clothes of colors similar to the swamp’s, fashion-less and ugly.

Perhaps that’s why they’re staring at her fancy expensive clothes and boots with lust.

Daera’s expression remains unfaced. She’s no longer sad, but calmed. She completely turns around, standing by the river’s shore, under the eyes of these ones.

-Good night-, she greeted with a polite tone.

-Good night-. One of the men greeted her, nodding towards her. We don’t know their names; we’ll call this one: Fuck.

-Beware, princess, there are many lion-lizards around these places-. Another of the men spoke, looking at her from feet to toe. He’ll be: Cunt.

Daera blinked and tilted her head lightly, instantly catching that they know she’s the princess. Great, no need to introduce herself then.

-Lion lizards?-. She gives them a confused smile, shaking her head.

-Dreadful beasts-. The third man raised his brows. This is: Dumb.

-Ah no, thankfully I haven’t seen none-. She kindly said-. But thanks for the warning-, her head tilts to a side whilst her hands meet on her belly.

Still, they keep getting closer, slowly but noticeable. Their steps are paused and marked, something she glanced at with tranquil eyes. Meanwhile, what they glance at is to the clothes and jewelry of the princess; her fine rings and leather dress must cost a fortune, not to speak about her white scalp.

Daera parted her lips when she sighed and scratched her forehead.

-Right…-, she mumbles with tiredness, nodding.

-Take off her clothes first, then do whatever you please-. One of the women spoke for the first time. How should be call her?

-She’s more worthy alive than dead, bitch-. Cunt spat to her. We’ll call her Bitch.

-Then don’t make her die, brute!-. The other woman spat back to him with an obvious tone, not even looking at him. This will be Dead.

Daera watches them all, person by person, looking at their steps and the manners of their hands. They’re armed, each of them with a rusty axe. She breathes in, looking at their faces again.

-Well, you’ve quickly made your intentions clear-. She sighed, making them to look at her with full amusement. A girl standing alone in a river, poor she thing-. Are crannogmen this direct then?-, Daera scrunches her nose, disappointed. Fuck and Dumb chuckled lowly, while Bitch twisted her lips with tediousness-. I like my men to entertain me-, she confessed whilst, under the enough darkness of the swamp, one of her hands so very slowly grabbed the handle of the dagger on her belt.

-I shall entertain you, princess-. Cunt growled with a smile. And it was here that he and Dead started to fastly walk towards her within a second, menacing. The others followed.

And within another second, Princess Daera got her dagger out of her belt, throwing it in the air. Its edge cut the wind sharply until it reached the middle of Dead’s eyes. The dagger crossed her skull and sliced her brains. The last thing she did was gasp, and then she fell hard on the floor, dead.

-Kalistrox, don’t come-. Daera whispered to the air, with a strand of white hair in the middle of her sight.

The other four cared naught about the fallen woman; they started running towards the princess. The closest was Cunt, who smiles while running.

Daera fastly leans to a side and scratches the river’s shore. Afterwards, she threw a handful of mud towards Cunt, who grunted when the heavy wet dirt ended up on his eyes and nose, making him to walk backwards.

-WHORE!-, a muted groan escaped his throat whilst he tried to wipe it all off his eyes.

-CUNT!-. Daera groaned as well, throwing more mud against Bitch and Dumb, but they dodged it and kept running to her with mad eyes. The princess laughs growly, unsheathing her sword.

-Don’t kill her!-. Bitch yelled with rage, and she ran slower when she saw the sword, getting a little scared. Fuck copied her.

Thus, Dumb kept running and became the closest to the princess, who took him off guard when making a savage expression with her face. The man, who cannot be older than twenty, furrowed his brows and, when he least expected, let out a loud and agonizing scream when a hand was cut from his body by her sword.

-AHHHH!!-, Dumb grabs his hand-less arm, looking at it with terror.

Daera laughs with great confidence, and that was her mistake, for the raged Dumb yelled with madness and grabbed her hair, pushing her with his remaining hand. The princess screamed, angry, and then she fell into the river’s deep shore, getting all wet by water and heavy mud. Her hand never left her sword’s handle.

-NO!-, Daera gasps in search of air, quickly sticking her head out the water.

Cunt had run to another part of the river as well, washing off the mud on his eyes while grunting with angriness. All the times that he found the strength to open his red and swollen eyes for a second, he glanced at the white-haired princess. He started to wash his face faster when seeing her falling into the river.

-GRAB HER HANDS, GRAB HER HANDS!-. Fuck yells quickly as he and Bitch ran to reach the princess.

-AHH!-. Remaining in the shore, Dumb breathes fastly while looking at his gone hand laying in the mud. He whines, staring at his bleeding wrist-. FUCKING BRING HER!-, he screamed to the river.

Daera breathed fastly, with her eyes blurry due to the water in them, but she saw something: those two small-sized beasts running towards her with more than evil intentions. She spat the water off her mouth, and took a deep breath.

Bitch runs faster when the princess’ head got dipped into the river from a moment to another. Fuck did so as well, yelling with rage when losing her out of sight.

-Fucking bitch! Where are you?!-. Bitch yells with alert, pushing all the water around her, wanting to hit the princess’ head by doing so, but she was far from her.

-Where are you?! WHORE!-. Fuck screams tauntly, licking his lips and smiling while from his mouth drops of saliva fall-. Fucking coward-, he mumbled with amusement.

-FIND HER!-, a scream was heard from Cunt, who’s walking to the shore near where they are. He pushed Dumb, who still cries for his hand.

Even though the screams continued, none was as loud as Fuck’s, who opened his mouth into a broken shriek when a sword suddenly cut his inner thighs and inner knees from a second to another, under the water.

-FU- FUUUCK! FUCK!!-. He yelled with extreme pain. Bitch quickly runs faster towards there, opening her eyes big when seeing the water turning red-. YOU- YOU…!-, he looks at the water around, harshly getting both his hands into it-. YOU FUCKING CUNT!-, he pulls something out.

Daera let out a pained screamed with her mouth open when Fuck suddenly pulled her out of the water, grabbing her by her hair. All her face and mane drips water while she roars with rage, looking at him, who roars back at her.

-BEAST!-, Fuck grabbed her hair into a fist, and his other hand slapped her strongly on one cheek.

-FUCK!!-, Daera roars. She holds her sword stronger, and head it right to his skull.

But Bitch appeared out of nowhere, arriving behind of her and taking both her hands prisoners into hers. Daera immediately screamed with rage, struggling against her grasp. Fuck grasped her legs the same way, trapping them, and that’s how the both of them began to carry her out the river.

-NO! NOOO! YOU WHORES, CUNTS, LET ME GO!-. The princess shrieks endlessly while dragged in the water-. YOU WEAK BEASTS, LET ME GO!-. Her yells never end.

-Bring her!-. Cunt waits for her in the shore with an ugly smile on his yellow teeth. Steps from him, Dumb is dizzy while looking at his bloody wrist.

-CUNTS!-, Daera grunts, not letting the river to take her sword away. She’s grabbing it tightly, while Bitch is incapable of taking it from her, for both her hands are busied in grasping hers to not let her go.

The princess was delivered to the shore, being harshly placed there. Within a second, Cunt grumbled and headed to her, going for the legs that Fuck fights against with a scrunched angry face.

While placing her in the ground, Bitch leaned forward in a way that made Daera’s eyes shine when she realized what she could do. Not losing time at all, the princess extended her neck up, opened her mouth, and then closed it along a wild roar. Daera bit the woman’s left breast, and squeezed it violently between her teeth.

Bitch let out a great scream, letting go her hands. Out of instinct she stepped away. At the same time, the princess wiggled her head ferociously from side to side; Bitch’s left nipple was torn from her breast by Daera’s harsh teeth, and then was spitted right into her face by the princess

The woman took six long steps back when she opened her mouth towards the sky to scream and cry with a pain none can even imagine. She grabs her bleeding teat, looking at it with extreme terror.

Oblivious to that, Fuck fights against the princess’s closed legs. She looks down there with rage, and opened her eyes big when seeing Cunt grabbing her knees with his big hands, and smiling up at her.

-No-, Daera’s voice trembles, and she realizes her hands are now free-. NO NO, STEP AWAY YOU CUNTS!-. She screams, about to slice them both in a half with her sword.

But a feet stepped on her armed hand, and a hand grabbed her other one. When she looks up, breathing fastly, she found Dumb’s handless wrist bleeding over her face. Daera immediately yells with pure rage, scrunching her nose and struggling even fiercer than before.

-Away!!-, Cunt pushed Fuck, taking his place in front of her. He squeezed her knees, and pulled them apart violently.

-FUCK!!!-, Daera struggled against him with rage, tears coming up to her eyes. Cunt grumbles when finding out the princess was wearing pants below.

-Queer bitch-, the man grunted, quickly pulling her dress’s skirt up, and beginning to break her pants with his bare hands.

Breathing fastly, Daera studies her surroundings within three second: Bitch whines for her lost nipple, rocking her breasts with agonizing pain. Cunt fights to take off her clothes, Fuck lines behind him with an excited evil smile, taking turn to rape her as well. Dumb steps on the hand she grabs her sword with, and grabs her other one while looking down at her. And, just a few steps from them, Dead lies dead with open eyes, with the dagger still on her forehead.

Daera blinks when feeling the drops of blood falling on her face from up. She looks up, and sees the Hand-less Dumb leaning towards her with a crazy smile while trapping her hands. Blinkless, he’s heading to kiss her lips.

And with these very lips of her, she spat harshly against his face from a second to another. The saliva that violently entered one of his eyes made Dumb to scream and to take a step away. He kept grabbing one of her hands, but: stopped stepping on the other.

Hissing, Daera dropped her sword, pulled the dagger out of Dead’s head, cut off Dumb’s remaining hand, and cut away the part of her dress Cunt was pulling away.

When the dress was cut and the pression of his pulling abruptly ended, Cunt gasped and staggered with no time to react. When her legs were free at last, the princess roared and kicked him with all of her strength and will.

Cunt fell right over Fuck, who yelled with pain when his bleeding thighs met the mud.

Daera heads the dagger to Dumb’s legs, and cut both his knees profoundly within a second, making a perfect line. The Handless man screamed agonizing-like, falling on his knees when being servant of the pain.

Before his knees ended right on her eyes, princess Daera fastly makes herself to a side, rolling in the mud. While doing so, she grabbed back her sword, never letting it go again. Dumb sobs with rage, going for her.

With a smooth rolling, Daera stood up from the mud within seconds and, as soon as she did so, she clashed her sword against Bitch, not even letting her to take a last breath. Bitch gasped before being sliced in a literal half by the princess’ sword. Her upper body fell hard on the ground, whilst her legs kept standing for a few more second.

After cutting Bitch in a half, Daera made a perfect circle on her feet and with her sword. Smoothly turning around, she slashed Dumb’s belly. Her angry expression faded away as soon as he died, when all of his bowels fell from his open abdomen. A stinking shit fell with them too; the princess stepped on it, and then cleaned her boots with Dumb’s face.

With dagger and sword now at hand, The Rogue Princess bloody face turns to look at the remaining two. The two that were planning to rape her.

Her breathing blows white strands of her disheveled hair. Blinkless and mouth-parted, she starts walking towards them, licking the blood on her lips.

When Cunt fell over him, Fuck couldn’t walk again. Pressed by the other man’s heaviness, he fell right on a big stone that crashed so hard against his lower back that it appears to have disconnected it from his legs, which are still cut and bleeding while he now drags himself away as quick as possible. Fuck whines and grunts as his elbows are the only thing helping him to move in the mud.

Meanwhile, Cunt is- well, he is running to her.

Daera turns around; her back collapses with his chest. He grunts and, before he could do anything with his rusty axe, the princess surprised him with a stab on his ribs. He gasps, opening his eyes big. Blinking two times while looking at the woods, Daera stabbed him two more times, in different places.

-Fucking…!-, airless, he gasped.

Letting out a sour chuckle, Daera suddenly starts to walk backwards with fastness. Cunt looks around with terror; the loss of blood tricked him bad, and he imagined the trees laughing and pointing at him whilst the princess pushes him with her own little body.

From a moment to another, Cunt felt he flew, and he did. For a second. He fell harshly on the river’s shore, dyeing the water with red. What’s weirdest is that the princess allowed herself to fall with him, only to then rise on her knees and stare down at him with hell-like eyes and evil twisted lips.

She grips her dagger tightly, closing her fist on it.

-I’m a Targaryen-, her honeyed though growly voice spoke while her hand slipped down his pants.  

Her dagger swayed in the air, and then cut off Cunt’s hard erection. When his member was sliced off his body, the bleeding man screamed with pure pain, never taking his eyes off her. He saw her painted all in red, grabbing his bland chopped cock with a rogue glim on her eyes, and smiling to him within a blink.

-I’ll be taken as no fool-. The princess mumbled with rage, starting to fill his mouth of the mud around, filling even her own nails with it.

Cunt coughs violently as his throat and mouth gets clogged by dirt and water with no end. His eyes tears while he yells as louds as he can, desperately searching for air. Daera grunts, grabbing his head with a hand.

-Stay fucking quiet!!-, she grunted, dipping his face into the river.

Cunt struggles and kicks with despair, airless, swallowing both mud and water endlessly, nearly starting to cry blood. Whilst he grunts and tussle, the princess turns around her head. She sees the other one, Fuck, still crawling away. He’s already far, but she sees him. She hears him crying with horror, crawling away like a coward from his sliced thieves friends.

Daera presses her lips, pulling Cunt’s face out of the water. And before he could give his last breath for himself, the princess drew her dagger on his throat, and cut it with a clean move.

Cunt’s mouth dripped vomit, blood, mud and water. His eyes went blank, and his face dipped again in the water when the princess stood up and walked away from him, leaving his unliving body behind.

When Fuck hears steps near him, he turns around his head. Now, when he saw The Rogue Princess approaching to him with armed hands and raged mad eyes, he cried for his mother, and started to crawl and drag himself faster than ever, to no purpose.

Fuck tried to stood up while breathing fastly. Her knees trembled, but he was able to stand weakly. But before he could even think of running, a boo kicked his lower back violently and made him to fall back in the mud. He yelled loudly, with pain and terror. He turns around his head, finding the ugliest and most disturbing image of his life.

The white-haired brown-skinned princess, slouched to look directly at him, is bathed in blood and mud. Her chin, lashes and nose are dripping a red liquid that does not belong to her. Her teeth are stained on red too, as well as her jewelry and her chopped wrinkled dress. What disturbed him the most: the madness and pleasure that shines on the purple of her eyes.

The Rogue Princess grabbed his hair and pulled his head up with harshness. He gasps with pain, scrunching his lips while crying, feeling her breathing approaching to his neck.

-You’ll live a little longer-, Daera whispered with a growing smile.

Fuck screamed with terror, quickly silenced when the princess violently placed Cunt’s bleeding bollocks on his mouth and made him to chew on them.

■ ■ ■

Aemond and Vhagar’s flight was…a silent one. The breeze and the dragon’s breathing are one. Her wings flap quietly, her body soars calmly. The Queen of All Dragons, by all means, goes with tranquility, not worried by anything, neither ashamed of any doings.

On the other hand, the prince that rides on her back is not sharing her feelings at all. Vhagar might be serene, but Prince Aemond is a nervous wreck.

Lucerys has been slain.

Aemond’s only eye is blinkless. His gloved hands are held to his saddle with tension; his palms are sweating below the black leather.

He did it.

His hair is humid, priorly wet by the rain at Storm’s End. His lips are dry and constantly shaking.

He has killed him.

His heart has been beating with endless fastness for hours and hours. His teeth taste like iron; his tongue like blood.

He killed Luke.

Vhagar growls lowly when she sees the shores of King’s Landing already appearing in front of them. In trance, Aemond looks up from his saddle, staring front. When he saw the Red Keep from the distance, his heart stopped beating and his throat got afflicted within a second.

The prince breathes fastly, pressing his lips with anxiety. His dragon keeps flapping her wings, knowing she were to land in the beach nearest to the castle, where she always nests. But the closer they got to the heart of the capital; the more nervous Prince Aemond grew.

He knows his landing means one thing: his family will ask him how things went. He, then, shall tell them that: he won Lord Borros and House Baratheon to their side, he wooed Ellyn Baratheon, and made her his betrothed. And that he lost control of Vhagar, and got Lucerys killed.

Shamefully, he does not have the gut to tell them, at least not now.

The One-Eyed Prince parted his trembled lips and, within a second, he pushed his saddle down. Vhagar shook her neck; she immediately obeyed, and started to descend quickly, straying from the path towards King’s Landing.

Vhagar landed right in a high hill belonging to The Kingswood. It is night, and late, so no one is around nor near them. The green dragon lifted ton of dirt when she landed, when her wings flapped near the ground. She looked up to the white moon, with her small eyes.

As soon as she landed, Aemond breathed with unquietness while he started to fastly come down from saddle, quickly getting off his dragon’s back. He gets endless chills whilst climbing down the ropes; his altered eye stared at her belly only for a second.

Aemond’s feet landed harshly on the ground when he jumped away from Vhagar. He breathes in and out, in and out, fastly and anxiously. He feels his legs trembling, and his heart about to stop beating. Is this how it feels to die? Is his body preparing him for a feeling even worst than this?

“Gods. Gods. Gods”

The prince walks with shaky legs, looking all around at the trees with his eye filled of despair. His parted mouth breathes heavily, the same as how his chest feels. He doesn’t feel his arms, which are hanging to the sides of his body.

-Fuck-, he whimpered with a string of voice.

“Help me. Help me. Oh, please may the Gods help me”

Aemond couldn’t hold himself for much longer. He fell right on his knees, making them to clash against the dirt on the ground. The prince shrieks while he looks around, looking for some light. He hasn’t one thought on his mind and, at the very same time, a thousand of them.

He’s in shock; that it is. The shock on him is so big that he’s thinking that by calling the gods for help he’ll get out of this. Well, he won’t. He’s fucked, he’s condemned. And he knows it. He knows what this means, Aemond is no fool.

He knows this will bring war. What he does not know yet: he has brought the doom of his family as well.

The prince breathes in, shaky, slowly turning his head, looking over his shoulder. He stares at Vhagar, who looked back at him with tranquility and blinkless eyes. Kneeled, the one-eyed huffs a dry laugh.

-What have you done?-, he whispered. His eye stared to her belly, and he shivered when thinking that Luke and his dragon are both literally in there, dead and butchered-. Oh- oh Vhagar, what have you done?!-. His voice shook with disbelief, looking at her.

Vhagar does nothing but to growl lowly and calmly, looking back at him with no shame nor pity. Queen Visenya’s ancient fierceness shined on her former dragon’s eyes. Oh, if dragons could talk.

“I did what I wanted to”, Vhagar would say, “What you also wanted me to do”. She knows her rider is just blinded by fear, or whatever, right now, but the truth is that: her desires were the same as his when they were in the skies. “Are you a coward now?”.

“Imma kinslayer”, Prince Aemond told to himself while looking at Vhagar’s huge tum. Is that what he’s supposed to say to his family? Or is he to confess that he lost control of his own dragon, like an idiot? What is he to do? What- what is to happen now?

Aemond breathes fastly, heavily overwhelmed by the whole situation; he is not having one clear thought at the moment. He feels like a child again. He’s just scared, and he wants to cry.

The One-Eyed Prince turned his head again and, from this high hill, he stared at The Red Keep. His chest comes up and down whilst his only eye, teary, looks at there with not one blink in the middle. Tired and wary, he starts to close his lips. His family is in that castle.

Hours, the prince thinks. Is just a matter of hours for the Black to know about Luke’s death, about what Aemond has done, if they don’t know it already. Then, war will come.

“War. War. War”

It is imminent. It's inevitable now. There is no turning back, and now the war is getting closer. It's almost at the door of his house.

And, when thinking of this, prince Aemond twisted his lips with determination, ceasing their trembling. He growled as he stood up from the floor, and ran towards Vhagar with stiff feet and legs.

He is scared, yes, but he can't afford to stay here, worrying and crying, cursing his dragon's actions. His dear dragon. No. He will act, he has to. And he has to do it now.

-SOVES, VHAGAR!-. With a loud growl, Aemond commanded his dragon to fly, pulling her ropes tightly when he took seat on his saddle.

Quick to answer, Vhagar growled as well, and took off from The Kingswood with a big flap from her wings. They rose in the skies again, flying faster than before. Aemond breathes fastly, clenching his teeth and jaw.

Tears come up to his eyes and then they run down his cheeks, one after another and another after one. Fright and shock have been keeping his thoughts at a limit. He doesn't want to think too far into the future; He couldn't stand it.

So…

He forces himself to live in the moment, to go to protect his family.

He forces himself to not think of Daera and the hate he’ll won from her.

He forces himself to think that he’s still on time, that they can prepare for whatever that may come.

Aemond forces himself to pretend that he doesn't feel a pair of raged eyes on his neck at all times, crossing the entirety of the Blackwater Rush.

■ ■ ■

Daemon stands over an open window. A red gaze of his crosses the whole sea; there is rage on his purple eyes, immense. His chest comes up and down with a slow infuriated breathing. His fists are tight to the sides of his body, he has tears on his demonic eyes.

More than one cry is taking over the room he’s in.

Viserys and Aegon are crying on their cradles; their faces are red and their throats are shrieking, constantly babbling, in the need of tending and kisses. They’re so uncomfortable and unquiet; there’s a reason for that.

Their mother, Rhaenyra, is crying louder than them. Her palms are flat open in a wall. Her head shakes from one side to another whilst her mouth whines endlessly and her closed eyes tear up with no stop. The Queen cries with the worst pain of her life; her chest feels empty.

In Dragonstone, the sky is still dark, but it is almost dawn, so a new day has arrived. All that can be heard around the castle is the crying coming from Queen Rhaenyra’s chambers, from her very self. Every lord, servant and knight either shivers or looks down every time a scream makes echo through the walls.

A dark cloud has been casted on Dragonstone, when news of Prince Lucerys’ death reached his parents’ ears.

-Luke!-, a broken sob comes out from Rhaenyra’s mouth. She cries brokenly, curving her brows and lifting her face towards the ceiling, looking at it with swollen eyes and a trembling open mouth-. Why?-, she whispers sorrowful. To only imagine it, her boy- her son…killed with no mercy-. FU- UCK!-, she cried with a torn heart, screaming loudly.

Master Gerardys had to quickly fetch something to make Prince Joffrey to fall asleep, for the boy became mad when he heard that his brother, Luke, had been murdered by their own uncle, the prince Aemond.

Joff cried less than his mother, but that was only because he busied himself with trying to escape the guards’ arms when wanting to take Tyraxes and fly himself to avenge his brother. With a mouth resembling his step-father and older sister’s, Joff swore a terrible oath of vengeance against Prince Aemond and even Lord Borros. Only the intervention of Ser Erryk kept the boy from mounting his dragon at once.

It was the same with his sister, the princess Rhaena.

-My baby…-, Rhaenyra sobs with a shaky voice, afflicting her throat.

In The Chamber of the Painted Table, when the news was announced, Rhaena fell from a chair to her knees, screaming, crying and whining so loudly that it waked the whole island entirely. Some even searched for some wound, cut or tumor in her, to see if it was that she was burning from within.

Rhaena screamed with so much pain, and squeezed her own chest with so much sorrow, feeling her heart being plucked away from it with no mercy, just as Luke’s probably was too. She cried the name of her brother, her betrothed, four times. After the fourth cry, her father ordered Maester Gerardys to sedate her too, and so he did.

Prince Daemon looks outside with lips trembling of rage, and eyes flickering of grief. His nose is sweating endlessly, and his mouth is dry. Every second he thinks of different moments of Lucerys. Training on the beach, laughing with his siblings, asking him to help with his saddle. Every second he thinks of different ways of murdering Aemond. Tie him barefoot on stones in fire, slicing off his cock and making him to eat it as his last meal, watch him burn.  

Queen Rhaenyra squeezes her belly with one hand whilst the other remains flat on a wall; is the only thing keeping her steady while she cries her soul out. Her feelings are indescribable; no mother should go through this. With the blur of her tears, she can only see him. As a babe, as a child, as a young man. He has been taken away from her…he’ll never be grown up. Her boy. Her sweet boy.

You may be wondering where does Princess Baela stand, in all this. Well then, if you must.

The princess left the Chamber of the Painted Table with swift steps, airless. She reached her dorms, staggering, where she was free to yell as much as she wanted. She fell flat on her bed and cried until ending voiceless and with a sore throat.

She didn’t believe it.

Caraxes, Syrax and Moondancer’s shrieks were constantly heard very near the castle, startling the servants many times. They’re furious too.

Baela cried, but not for long, for now she finds herself walking with firmness and quickness through the castle’s hallways. There are dry tears on her swollen purple eyes, tears that she slapped away from her with angry growls. She is in denial, and scolded herself for her crying.

Soon, the princess arrived to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s chambers. She opened the doors within a push, walking into it with rage and despair. Before the harsh sound of the doors, Daemon looked over his tense shoulder and Rhaenyra lifted up her red face. Viserys and Aegon went silent.

They find Baela with a lifted chin and shoulders.

-Baela…-, Rhaenyra sobbed her name with weakness, looking at her from feet to toe. She looked at her, and her lips trembled when seeing her step-mother’s red sorrowful face.

-I come not to mourn-. The princess spoke harshly, shaking her head. Daemon starts to turn around fully, staring at her with wide red eyes of attention-. My brother is not dead-. She declared with a stiff lip, serious.

Rhaenyra sighed shakily, staring at her with curious eyes of sadness, and tilting her head to a side while heading both her hands to her flat belly. Daemon, blinkless, listens to his daughter too.

-This is not Luke’s end!-. Baela’s loud voice trembled when saying his name. Nyra’s lips shook too, though her head began to nod, slowly-. Not in the hands of a deranged wretch-, she mumbled with decision, shaking her head-. Let us look for him-. She decided.

-Look for him?-, Daemon fastly repeated with his sharp loud voice.

-Look for him!-. His middle daughter nodded with the same sharpness. Hopeful, Rhaenyra caresses her belly, and begins to nod with tiredness.

-Baela…-, his father mumbled, almost ashamed. He fears their hope, for it can only bring more pain to them-. They said th-

-Then you have been misled!-. She quickly cut his words, yelling with firmness. Daemon closes his lips, serious. He hums lowly, looking at the both of them with thoughtful sour eyes.

-Yes…-, a weak whisper came out from Rhaenyra’s lips. Her husband looked at her, and his gaze automatically became softer. She breathes in with deepness. Pain and decision on her eyes-. Yes-. She spoke firmer than before, letting go her belly.

-We’ll find him-. Baela approached to her with decision, holding one of her hands. Rhaenyra sobs and looks at her with curved brows, nodding with the same conviction.

-We’ll leave at dawn-. Queen Rhaenyra declared.

The three share a look between them, decided, but none of the two women dared to ponder the question “What if we don’t?”.

Nevertheless, prince Daemon stood tall, and walked towards them with slow harsh steps, staring at the both of them. Baela gulped, holding Rhaenyra’s hand tighter.

-Whatever the come out, the Greens’ bloodline will end on our dragons’ bellies, their heads on our shelfs…-. He speaks with poison and sourness. His wife’s lips tremble, whilst his daughter nodded, bitter as him-. We will breathe fire, and drink blood-. The prince madly declared.

He approaches to the both of them, with his irritated eyes shining with blood and vengeance thirst. He narrows his eyes.

-Gaomagon ao emagon zire isse ao?-. The Rogue Prince asked, filled of wrath.

[Do you have it in you?]

■ ■ ■

Back to The Neck, Vermax landed on firm ground, growling lowly. His rider, the prince Jacaerys, landed him near where they were camping before, as he calculated before coming down.

Coming off from his saddle, the prince sighs tiredly, patting his dragon’s back.

-I am sorry, Vermax-. He whispered with shame and pity, caressing him. Vermax growled with tediousness, closing his eyes and shaking his neck.

Sadly, there are no sheep nor mutton or cows in swamps, so the search for dinner for the dragons was a total fiasco. Vermax hungers, and it seems that he’ll have to wait until arriving to Winterfell and see what can be offered to him.

Jacaerys sighed heavily, petting him. As he saw, Kalistrox is still in the skies with Daera. They did not exchange words or glances as they flew, as each one was focused on their dragon's supper.

-Alright-. The prince sighs, starting to walk with full calmness. His dragon, purring, follows him slowly-. I know you’re tired but at least help me to…-, as he goes walking and looking front, Jace starts to furrow his brows, cutting his own words-…lit back the fire?-. He mumbles.

He was planning to lit a new fire. But as he approached to where they were before, he realized the fire was still lit, just as he left it. Jace tilts his head to a side with confusion, keeping approaching, and wondering if he was wrong.

When being closer, and seeing their furs and bedsheets, he knew he hasn’t wrong. This is their fire, which confused him, for Daera told him she’d stay to turning it off, and the she’d go up with Kalistrox. Now she’s up there with Kalistrox, he thinks, but the fire is still here.

As Jacaerys approaches to the camp, he noticed a piece of luggage that wasn’t there before, big and lumpy, too big to seem like one of theirs. The prince approaches with slow steps and curious eyes, staring at the luggage as he walks by it.

Jacaerys takes three more steps, looking at it with confusion and mistrust. Only seconds then is that he got to look at it from the front.

And right at that moment, the “luggage” came to life. Vermax squealed whilst Jacaerys gasped when they realized it was a man with his hands and feet tied that struggled against the ropes with despair and fear.

-Ah!-, Jace steps back with quickness; he’s shocked and scared, with his eyes wide open. He breathes fast, seeing all the blood that man is covered with. The man’s screams and pleadings of help are muted by some bloody hairy bollocks on his wide mouth.

The man, Fuck, cries and struggles with terror, moving like a worm in dirt. The prince Jacaerys breathes very fastly, as confused as grossed out, looking at him with wide eyes. Steps are heard near them. Fuck tried to yell loudly to the boy, kicking his feet and looking like he was…trying to warn him about something? …Someone.

-Nyke emagōn pōja havor [I found their supper]-. A taunt mumbling voice spoke behind him.

Jace turns around with frighted eyes. He afflicted his throat strongly, for his eyes automatically traveled to the ground, and in there he found more “pieces of luggage”. More bodies. But these are not alive, as the other one. They’re butchered people, long gone.

Dumb. A man with no hands, bleeding his wrist out; his belly all open, hence his organs on the floor, and his face stained by shit. Dead. A woman with a hole in the middle of her eyes, which are open. Cunt. A man that has no upper body, for neither his torso, arms chest or head are to be found; in the middle of his legs there’s no cock. Bitch. And another woman, literally sliced in two. Her legs are chopped like fresh ham, whilst her upper body lacks a nipple in one of her breasts; instead, is between her lips, soaked in blood.

Jacaerys breathes slowly and deeply, with eyes of fright and marvel, not believing his sight. Feeling his heart beating crazily, his brown orbs slowly began to look up, following a tread of blood from the cock-less body.

Soon, he comes to the sight of his wife standing over a rock. Her hand is holding another, that belongs to the upper-body to the cockless man. His throat is sliced, and his face stained with vomit, blood and mud; his eyes closed, his hand hold to hers.

Daera is bathed in red dirty blood, her pants and dress are torn, and her hair disheveled and wild. Her hands are bloody, so are her arms, so is her neck, her mouth, her teeth, her cheeks, forehead and her pupils. Little of that river of blood is hers.

There is a terrifying calm in her eyes, which are staring at him endlessly. Slightly swinging the corpse whom she holds hands with, Daera looks at Jace amidst all the blood that paints her eyes. Blinkless, she's breathing slowly.

Mouth-open, Jacaerys’ chest comes up and down. Mesmerized and terrified, he looks at his wife from down, not even smelling the blood, neither hearing the man’s pleadings and struggles. The prince merely blinks, shocked by the sight in front of him, the sight of her.

Unfazed by her blood-dripping face, The Rogue Princess looks back at him with easiness; a glim of taunt in her eyes. She sniffed her nose.

■ ■ ■

[murmel-malt]

a few concepts for Hedaera's wardrobe, including a maternity and travel/outdoors-y fit

[myfandomprompts]

To Risk It All | Chapter 4

Summary: Daera meet Princess Helaena, and is properly introduced to her betrothed.

Warnings: None. | Previous part - Masterlist

In the midst of her family and the Queen's machinations, Daera has at least been allowed to fly home to attend her father's funeral in the following days. Her mother had argued with fear in her eyes when she understood that she would be forced back on Driftmark with her children until the marriage pact would be forwarded, and in the end, had insisted upon Daera and Daemion flying there in a few days instead of sailing with her. Daera did not understand her fear, but she was set on discovering what had her mother make her and her sibling stay away from Driftmark.

Lady Elinda had boarded in the morning, and Daera was left unable to escape the Queen's proposition as she had come to her later in the afternoon. "It is long past due that you meet my daughter. You are the same age, and you both ride dragons.”

So there she was, in Princess Helaena’s chambers for tea time, one of her ladies-in-waiting knitting next to the balcony while the midwives played with the royal twins, cute silver-haired heads surrounded by dragon-shaped toys. Seated on the comfortable couch, Helaena was barely looking at her, as if afraid to meet her eyes as she bounced her third child, Maelor, on her knee. Only when Daera had found the courage to mention the beauty of her canvas on which a caterpillar shone black and red had the Princess lifted her head and broke the babbling silence.

After a few courtesies exchanged, however, the conversation turned unexpectedly heavier. "Why don’t they let you grieve?"

The words made Daera stop the hand that reached for cake in mid-air as she glanced back at Helaena’s curious expression, surprised. On this day, Daera wore the darkest gown her mother had brought back for her, of marine fabric so deep it could have easily been taken for black with only some silver threads that showed at the hem of the neckline.

"That is… A very pertinent question, Princess. One I have no answer to, in truth. I lost my father a few days ago and now I am to marry away from my home. It seemed like time had shortened considerably."

Helaena lowered her head as Daera darkly laughed and nodded once, her lips drawn in a thin line. "Time is sometimes blurry as well as it is short. It melts together in one big ball of wool, intertwined," the Princess stated softly, taking Maelor's tiny hand as she gave you a shrug. "But you should be able to be left alone in your sorrow, in the least. Time has not granted you that yet.”

"No, it hasn't…" Daera replied, displaying a genuine smile on her face at the Princess’ sympathy. For the first time since she had arrived in King’s Landing, she suddenly felt understood. "And I fear that it will not repair my family's misfortune."

Helaena said nothing back as they settled again in a not so uncomfortable silence, only the sounds of children and playing coming to add to their eating. When Daera was about to pour herself another cup of tea, she saw the Princess’ eyes suddenly brighten up as she looked at something behind her shoulders.

Daera turned to meet the icy gaze of Aemond Targaryen, standing at the threshold, like frozen in place. She saw the moment he noticed her as she stared back at him, his lips closing in reaction before glancing around the room as if he hadn’t expected to find the place this crowded. "I'll… come back later, sister."

"No!" Helanea exclaimed, and it was the first time Daera heard her voice louder than a whisper, almost joyful. "You have barely been around since father's dinner. Come, please." 

Aemond did not move at once, rather standing awkwardly at the entrance and staring back at her sister like she was asking for the impossible. Daera was almost convinced that he would refuse and depart, but Maelor had crept on the floor without their notice and was making his way to his uncle, babbling. When he reached Aemond's feet, extending his tiny hands to him, the Prince was forced to look down as he grabbed his boots, raising his bright eyes to him. She pondered whether or not Aemond would recoil or just turn back and leave, but what he did surprised her.

He lowered himself to Maelor before scooping him into his arms with ease, eliciting a giggle from the latter as he did so and came to sit on the chair closer to the door, far from his sister, far from her.

Maelor seemed happy, sitting comfortably on his uncle’s lap as Aemond held on his waist, a smile not quite reaching his eye as he observed his nephew that started playing with the length of his hair.

It was odd, soft, even, seeing the Prince in this position. It seemed so natural, so familiar for him that Daera felt something in her tense and softener at the same time. He looked so comfortable, casually leaning in the chair watching his nephew with a peaceful eye, a version of him she had not yet seen. It made her wonder how often he came here to spend time with them, how close he was with children, and if Aegon gave them the same attention as his brother did. 

She remembered that she was staring when Helaena's voice came again.

"How is Cyrenna?" she inquired lightly at her brother.

"Fine," he plainly answered, demeanour still coldly composed while Daera noted the name in a corner of her mind.

"Did you tell her yet?" Helaena asked next, grabbing the canvas at her side to play with it.

The man in question turned her head to her, careful to not cross Daera's eyes that stood in his vision to his sibling. "Tell her what, sister?" 

"That the knife was hers?"

Both him and Daera looked at her, confusion much more prominent on Daera's face, and the Princess only stared back at them like she had said the most obvious thing in the world.

"The knife?" repeated Aemond softly.

"Yes. If it was hers, it would surely make her accountable, would it not?"

Daera chose to appear unconcerned by the very odd conversation happening and proceeded to feign interest in the toy Maelor was currently hitting the Prince’s chest with. The latter did not seem as confused as she was, but the slight movement of his brow over his eye told her that he was as clueless.

"Yes. Yes you are right," he finally indulged, careful. “ I will tell her next time I see her."

Daera looked back at the cup on her lap when she felt Aemond’s gaze on her, trying to hide her embarrassment. She wondered when she had ever been in such an odd situation before.

Helaena simply nodded in contentment, resuming to examine her canvas dreamily  while Aemond returned his gaze on Maelor who had started to reach for the leather strap that covered his forehead. Daera dared to observe them as Aemond spoke a soft ‘No’ when the infant came close to completely lift up the patch that covered his eyes and Daera found herself craving to see what was under it. 

How had it healed since she had seen it wide open in the Hall of the Nine? The scar on his cheek and forehead had healed beautifully she had to admit, giving a fierceness to his features that certainly suited him but it was nothing next to the appearance of the eye patch he wore. Would there be a gap there? Would it still be tightly sewn together, the skin fixed and repaired? Or something else entirely she could not picture in her feeble mind? 

From where she sat she could only see his profile, the shape of his nose and jaw, sharp against the light that came from the windows, his hair glowing softly as he leaned in order to reach for the toy Maelor had just dropped. Once in the child’s hand, Helaena glanced at it and her eyes seemed to lighten.

“I always wondered how come you had claimed your dragon, Lady Velaryon,” she asked with knitted brows, curious. “It is always such wonderful stories to tell!”

She looked so much happier in her brother's presence.

Daera pursed her lips before answering. “Oh, I don’t truly remember… I just recall entering Dragonmount and… Seasmoke was there. We’ve never been apart since then,” she ended with a small smile.

Helaena looked disappointed. “Oh, this is such a shame. We all remember our claimings, I think,” she said pensively before looking at her brother. “You do remember Aemond, do you not?”

He gave his sister the briefest of glances before looking back at Maelor, his body tensing up inexplicably. But his voice was still enticingly composed. “Of course I remember.”

Helaena made a satisfying gesture before keeping on. “It was instinct, wasn’t it? What led you to Vhagar? This is what you told me if I recall correctly. Or was it destiny? It’s been so long.”

Aemond hummed, as if set on expressing how uninterested he was for the current conversation but answered nonetheless. “Something like that, yes.”

It drew Daera’s full attention, and as something in her memory stirred she heard the words out of her mouth before she could even think twice. “Instinct, was it? How peculiar.”

He snapped his head at her, his no longer peaceful eye locking with hers again, penetrating. Daera felt her spine go rigid as she held his gaze, unwilling to let go as she chose to assume her words, although not entirely sure what she would gain from them. She felt as if he was going to scold her for having contradicted him, his warning from the library still fresh in her mind and stuck beneath her skin.

But he kept his eye fixated on her as he spoke with the same soft tone he had used for his sister. “Yes, peculiar indeed.”

The silence between them seemed to stretch and even Maelor came to a stop in order to observe his uncle and Daera’s silent interaction, disappointed that the former was not paying attention to him anymore. Helaena did notice as well and made quick work of defusing the tension, making Daera draw a sharp breath when she heard her voice. 

“I remember Aegon dragging me in the Dragonpit to show me Sunfyre and seeing Dreamfyre come to me on her own. It was a nice feeling, it was as if she was speaking to me, greeting me into her lair.”

Daera had escaped Aemond’s eye and was now smiling at Helaena. “It is a sweet story, Princess. I have heard of Dreamfyre’s beauty but I didn’t have a chance to take a look at her when I came with Seasmoke.”

She could still feel the single violet eye on the back of her neck.

“Oh, she is wonderful,” she blissfully answered, eyes beaming. “You should see her when- where are you going?”

Aemond had put Maelor back on the ground with care and was now standing up, straightening his tunic with his body turned towards the door. He took care in ignoring Daera completely as he kissed the top of Maelor’s head.

“I have matters to attend to. I will see you later, sister, I promise.”

He was out of the room as fast as the wind, leaving poor Maelor to look at the door where his uncle had disappeared and Daera had no time to stand up to bow. She was left to her thoughts, memories of Driftmark she had tried to forget becoming clearer in her mind, coming back like a vivid dream, spurred by the man that had just left the room.

When Helaena proposed a game of dice, Daera considered refusing politely, already craving the loneliness of her chambers, but she had no time to when the Queen entered the room with determination.

“Lady Velaryon!” she exclaimed as a knight that followed her like her shadow stood by the door behind her. “I am afraid that I came to steal you from my daughter’s company. I don’t believe you’ve properly met with your betrothed yet?”

“I believe they did, mother. They’ve talked as much as the mantis has legs.” 

Alicent quirked an eyebrow at her daughter before looking back at Daera, standing in front of her, mouth open. “Four times? Is this true?”

Daera had no time to think of the mantis’s numbers of legs as she tried to muster a response. “I actually met him once, your Grace.”

She tried not to be too condescending as you corrected the Princess’ strange calculation and waited for the Queen to react.

“Well, this is not enough, is it? I have talked with your Lady mother before she left and gained her blessing to organise a proper meeting. I know this is quite sudden for you,” she said, taking several steps towards her. “I only want you to feel at home already.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” she replied, silently cursing her mother in her mind. 

“Then, come. I think it is great time for you to spend time with Tyland Lannister.”

Daera gave a sharp nod before saying goodbye to Helaena and followed the Queen and the Knight outside.

It was a good day, and Daera knew that the weather would not matter anymore. She would spend the rest of the day in silent agony.

"What an odd match, don't you think?" said Aegon as he trotted towards his brother standing over the rampart.

Aemond had spent the end of the day in thoughts, dreams of a windy night and of his first flight, violet eyes staring back at him until one of his own had been taken.

She just always seemed to be in his way.

"What is?" came his annoyed response, still staring at the sea in front of him, arms behind his back.

"The Velaryon girl and Lord Tyland! I have a hard time picturing it, I must admit," Aegon stated as he leaned over the wall, gazing at a ship that sailed away below him. 

Aemond was now looking at him with a slight interest. "What are you on about, speak clearly."

"The betrothal! Between Lady Velaryon and Tyland Lannister," he exclaimed with his arms in the air, "I'm surprised you do not know of it, you are usually the first to learn of these things, brother." 

Aemond felt his teeth inexplicably grind together, and he reported his gaze on the sea. “Maybe it is because I do not care, brother. "

"Very well, very well," Aegon conceded, searching around for a servant to bring him a cup of wine. "Although I do not picture it, I can see why they would make a good match. The two wealthiest Houses in the realm bonding in marriage… The master of ships with the House that possesses the biggest fleet of the Seven Kingdom… Add this to the Lannister’s and you get a powerful army."

"Except that she does not own the Velaryon fleet," spoke Aemond, trying to chase the picture of a married Tyland Lannister off his mind, something quite amiss. “Nor does she have a claim to it.”

"But her brother does," Aegon continued, like pointing out something obvious. "When Corlys will have died of his wounds and the boy will be of age of course… But still, from where I am standing, it seems like a good bargain. A very good one.”

Aemond let slide the unstable logic of his brother while thinking about Daera and the conversation he had overheard with her mother a few days prior. He unconsciously reached for the ring in his pocket.

"The silent two might procreate until then, setting Daemion aside on the succession line.”

Aegon did not answer at once, instead looking at a passing bird in musing. "Hm… procreate. I wonder what tiny Tylands would look like. It is said that they shit gold."

"Have you nothing better to do than come here and be a nuisance, brother?"

"No but really. Do you think their offspring will be dragon riders?" he kept on, ignoring him. Then he let a moment pass in which Aemond heavily sighed and Aegon visibly shivered. “Brrr, lions on dragons, a Lannister. That would be an awful sight to see."

Aegon mimicked vomiting and Aemond clicked his tongue, not liking his brother's outer monologue at all. He kept his unwavering gaze on the horizon, waiting. "Dragons should stay in the Targaryen family. There is no point in having the whole realm claim one." 

"Uh-huh. Although the Velaryon girl is not a 'true' Targaryen is she? Wonder how that happened…” he thought out loud, turning to lean his back against the railing, reporting his gaze on the Dungeon behind Aemond. “The Celtigars seem to be an interesting family, from what I have heard. In any case, Tyland has luck on his side. Gaining a fleet and a dragon…"

"He did not win a dragon nor a fleet. All he gained was a girl that got caught in the fucking Blacks' plots and is now paying the price for their arrogance."

His brother slowly turned his head towards him, assessing him for the first time as he saw the way he had tensed all of a sudden. "Way to not care brother. Don't you believe that marrying a Lannister is her own desire to escape her family of degenerates? This way she won’t be affiliated with a bastard or… with untamed mothers."

"You cannot be as naive as to see this marriage as what it is. There is our grandfather's written all over it, set in his ambition to make himself more powerful in gaining as many Lords to our side.”

"Dragons you mean. Well, if the Hand begins to distribute maidens to members of the council, they will be very, very happy indeed," joked Aegon, content to have his brother answer to him with the honesty he came looking for. "Besides, this is not so bad, as a price. I mean, you lost an eye to be an asset to this family, while she is only losing her virginity. I can only see that as a wi-"

"Have you nothing better to do?" Aemond repeated in a loud roar, hands falling to his side in clenched fists that made Aegon raise an eyebrow. 

"What has got into you? Does Vhagar take too much time in coming? Or is it the Lady Penrose that does not satisfy you enough?” he asked with a grin, observing his brother’s expression turn from briefly furious to false tranquilness. “Talking about Lady Penrose, I crossed paths with her recently and she confided in me that you have not been very attentive to her of late. She also confessed that she has a surprise for you. Exciting, isn't it?"

But Aemond wasn't listening, rather reminded of the conversation he had with the Lady in question in the garden below them. "You were with her that night. Outside the walls." 

Aegon gave him a confused look. "Eh?" 

"With Daera Velaryon. People saw you leave with her. That is why you were so smug looking in front of mother's solar. What did you do, Aegon?”

Aegon smiled like he detained a secret only he was aware of. “Wouldn't you like to know." 

"You cannot let your depravity infect everyone. Tell me what happened." 

Aegon pouted, feeling a little insulted. "She only wished to go to the Dragonpit, so I showed her the way."

"You showed her the way?" Aemond repeated, losing his cold glare over a sneer. "No wonder she got lost.”

Aegon once again turned his head towards his brother, curious. "Lost? And how would you know that?"

Aemond pursed his lips instantly in annoyance, coming back to stare at the sky where he felt Vhagar drew ever closer.

"Oooh, it's true. You were outside as well, were you not? To fetch that thing. You saw her too, didn't y-" 

”I didn’t see her, I was just assuming your poor skills at giving directions,” Aemond spat coldly as he narrowed his eyes at the horizon. “Next time take the passageways instead of galavanting like a commoner.”

“Oh, like you do? Boring, brother. Boring indeed.”

They could both see it now, the huge wings of the great dragon making its way towards the keep, and Aemond’s heart jumped in joy at the idea of a flight. He almost sighed in relief when he made his way toward the stoney stairs, content to leave his brother’s presence at last.

"Regarding Lady Penrose’s gift,” Aegon called to him as he went down the stairs. “I hope it's not one of those awful feathers she wears. I will tell you, brother, it would not suit you."

When Aemond was finally down in the gravelled beach where Vhagar landed with a loud thump, scaring the seagulls perched over the nearby tower, he pulled out the golden and blue ring out of his pocket and took a moment to examine it once more.

He didn't know why he had kept it, but there was something about this ring that comforted him. A token that from a House he had grown almost intimate with. Who had taken from him and given to him. 

He would find a way to put it in a place she would find it and she would never learn of him holding on to it for so long.

One day. 

Tyland Lannister was a proud man and Daera’s time with him had shown her that she would have to make great efforts to grow accustomed to him.

Their conversation had been short. He had taken her around the castle, showing her places he assumed she had never seen accompanied by boisterous comments, talking to her like she needed to learn everything, from the names of the Kings to the appellation of the weapons used for tourneys, and she had quickly found that silent acquiescence was her most viable option.

This is what she did on the morrow, when Tyland took her to the gardens to parade her at his arm, and she had been unable to refuse the invitation. But as one of his servants trailed behind them at a slow pace, she found the conversation to be much more agreeable than the day before. “I never had the chance to taste Lannisport's famous spiced wine, my Lord.”

“I have a private cellar in the Little Gallery. I shall serve you some at our feast, and plenty more at our wedding. It was my father’s favourite.”

“I heard he was a very handsome man.”

“He was. A trait my brother and I had undeniably inherited,” he boasted with a wide smile as he pulled her towards a windier path.

She scowled, an irrepressible shiver running down her spine at his self-importance. “Indeed, my Lord. Lord Jason Lannister’s wife must be very lucky indeed.”

“Not as much as I will be, surely. He didn’t marry a dragon rider.”

The wink he gave her made her smile with latency, ripped off on her features, but it seemed to suffice as he then proceeded to ask her how many children she thought she could have.

“I beg your pardon?” she blinked, slowing her steps on the pebbly path.

“My brother has more than six,” he continued gullably. “And as the second son, I am expected to-”

Too aghast by his words, Daera did not see what had made Lord Lannister stop his monologue right away, but when she finally followed his gaze, she felt her spine go rigid.

Aemond Targaryen was advancing on them at the other end of the path, his eye drained on her as a beautiful black haired-woman with feathers in her hair strode by his side, her hand laced around his arm.

Tyland Lannister was already leading her forward, whispering in her ear that he would introduce her.

In truth, the master of ships could not pass up a chance to greet the Hand’s favourite with his smarmy words, especially with his new fiancée at his side.

“My Lord, I do not feel very well, I-”

“It will only be for a few moments,” he smiled down at her, ignoring her weak protests. “One cannot ignore the Prince, especially in such charming company.”

Stopping directly in front of them, Daera lifted her eyes, searching the Prince's face, noticing the clench of his jaw and how rigid he stood, how his single eye was peering darkly at her.

He didn’t seem pleased to be facing her again in such a short pan of time.

“Lord Lannister,” came the musical voice of the woman, a polite smile plastered on her face. “What a pleasure meeting you here!”

“My Prince, my Lady,” returned Tyland with a slight bow of the head and an even wider smile. “I see we had the same idea, a promenade in the gardens to enjoy this fine morning! The first of many for Lady Velaryon and myself, I’m certain. Or should I say, soon to be Lady Lannister, perhaps?”

The woman’s eyes were glinting as they fell on Daera, who had bashfully lowered her eyes at her future husband’s announcement. “Of course! Allow me to congratulate you my Lord and Lady for your betrothal, I was delighted when I heard the news.”

She spoke, but Daera recognised the well-trained gracious smile and cordial joy that every woman of the court possessed. Daera wished she could demonstrate the same well-mannered patience with the man at her arm.

The latter was beaming as he thanked her, Daera nodding quietly to do the same before the Lion turned his exulting face to Aemond, waiting for the same praises.

But Aemond’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, immobile, cold, the complete opposite of the black-haired lady that stood next to him as she looked at him expectantly. Daera watched as she witnessed his jaw slowly unclench, his eye shift from tangible annoyance to composed judgement, his nose flaring as he finally spoke in a forced breath. 

“Yes, congratulations.”

Tyland looked utterly satisfied, thanking the second son thoroughly as his green eyes returned back on Daera to assess her reaction at the honour that had been bestowed upon them, but she was paying no mind to him.

Instead, when the Prince’s eye had drifted back to her, she had found herself trapped in it. “Thank you, my Prince.”

She was unable to comprehend the heat that radiated from a man as cold as him, but when their eyes locked, she knew he had felt the insincerity behind her words, as much as she had felt the indifference behind his.

Lady Penrose’s thin fingers pressed more strongly into his bicep upon witnessing the intensity with which their gaze seemed to mingle. “Lady Velaryon, would you like to join me and the other ladies of the court for tea soon? I would be honoured.”

“And she would be delighted!” came the boisterous voice of Tyland Lannister, oblivious to what was happening around him and making Daera breathe in surprise and taking her eyes of impermeable one.

She accepted politely, clearing her throat to get rid of the heavy feeling that had settled there as she felt the now insistent gaze of Lady Penrose fixed on her. She could feel that something had shifted in the air, now thick between them but she could not care less. There was frustration in her heart at her betrothed’s lack of tact towards her and something far more complex as she now saw a purple iris looking down at her through long eye-lashes, no more intense, but soft, mocking, like he could read her mind.

When Lord Lannister finally dragged her away, their eyes locked one last time as they took a turn on their respectful paths, and she swore she saw a mere smile at the corner of the Prince’s mouth.

The touch of his hands were as cold as his eyes

So don’t tell me you weren’t hypnotised. 

Chapter 5

Thank you @babyblue711 & @arcielee once again.

Taglist:@knightprincess@baconturtle@witheredoffherwitch@lexwolfhale@toodlesxcuddles@watercolorskyy

AN: I'm updating this in March 2024: I have not given up on this story, I have it all cleared in my head, I am just not in a place where I should write right now. I will start taking care of this blog again in June. Thank you so much for reading and for your patience.

[bl00dlight]

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● Carpet munching, graphic language, general smut, FxF, age gap, targcest, dubious consent, drugging?, not proof read

Word count ● 3k+

Author's Note • This was meant to be a one shot. Now it's a two parter. This actually has a plot. I dont write smut without a plot and the x reader is so overdone atm. So ive written up an OC. This part is some serious lesbo action. Happy pride to all my homo milf lovers. This one is for you.

Masterlist

Part I

The halls of Harrenhal were no place for a Targaryen. Somber and damp... shadows cast by no flame engulfed the walls. It was an odd place, a cursed place. 

As the great Targaryen civil war raged on, Prince Aemond Targaryen had seized Harrenhal for himself after his uncle, Daemon Targaryen fled it. There, Prince Aemond enacted his plan of destruction upon the Riverlands. Burning all, innocent or otherwise, loyal or traitorous. Indeed, Prince Aemond did not discriminate for who would meet the fires of Vhagar. 

However, none met his wrath quite like the House Strong. For Aemond slaughtered all Strong Bastards and Strong nobles he might come across. Leading to the House facing extinction. No man, woman or child seemed to escape the Targaryen Prince's wrath... but one... a bastard woman by the name of Alys Rivers. 

A witch, whom he took as his war prize. A bedmate to distract him during the cold and clawing nights in Harrenhal. The Prince swore he heard the screams and cries of those he had slain. Though he dare not admit it, it unnerved him. Alys' talents in apothecary came most useful to him, for she oft brewed him tonics to ease such tension he claimed was from war. 

Though he had found other measures in which to use the woman for, when it came to matters of easing tension. Alys was a woman of many talents indeed.  The Prince could seldom admit to himself the bastard had grown on him, something he kept hidden within his heart.

Just as his younger sister was, tucked away in Harrenhal's stoney depths. The Princess Daera was a delicate thing, much like her sister Helaena; unaware of the evils that dwelled around her. Unaware of the depths of depravity and violence her own brother held buried within him. Or so Aemond thought. 

After Rhaneyra had taken back King's Landing, the Princess Daera had managed to escape her half-sister’s capture. Being aided by a Kingsguard to flee the capital and join her brother Aemond as he campaigned through the Riverlands. 

They had settled in Harrenhal for several weeks now, and Daera had spent most of her time dwelling it's cursed halls. At times sitting in the Godswood with the raven haired bastard Alys Rivers. 

Daera found it strange how the woman had taken to her. Sometimes insisting on helping her bathe and dress. The bastard claimed it was her nature as a wetnurse, and was in servitude to Prince Aemond and the Princess. That it pleased her to tend to Daera. 

Though it was apparent how Alys unnerved Daera at times, finding her staring intently. Her green eyes locked upon the Princess's soft form. 

Similarly to Aemond, Princess Daera oft took the tonics Alys left for her, since her arrival at Harrenhal also came with paralyzing nightmares. Tormenting the princess with strange and devastating visions. Visions of her family's death... of Aemond's death. 

Some of which leaked into her waking moments. Daera had oft found herself coming to Aemond in the dead of night, frozen with terror as she had heard disembodied voices calling for her... yearning for her. 

●

Princess Daera sat in her chamber, it was a far cry from her former one in the Red Keep. The walls stoney, grey and the bedding always cold and lumpy. Only the fire provided the much needed light which seemed to get lost amidst the shadowy landscape of Harrenhal. 

She rose, making her way to her bed. The hour was rather early considering, but there was little else to do once it darkened outside. And it was a great comfort for Daera to hear the bustling of people still awake. Far better that the void of silence the castle was known for. 

The soft howling of the wind echoed through the halls outside, and Daera tried her best to ignore the frightful noise. This place... chilled her bones like no other. 

Daera turned her head, looking out the thin windows etched into the stone. Gazing upon the moonlit landscape of the Riverlands; all burnt to a cinder now. No doubt her brother’s doing. 

As she came to her bed, she sat and saw the tonic Alys had left, neatly placed upon the side table. Daera brought it to her lips, drinking it squarely and she prepared herself for the familiar wince that would follow as the bitter herbs hit her tongue. But it did not come. 

It tasted different... sweet? 

A warmth filled her bones, an ease. Mayhap Alys had found a new recipe, one which was more effective? As the princess laid down, her hair pooled like a river behind her. She shut her eyes, drawing the covers over her frame. The feeling spread from her chest to her toes. Easing her, mellowing her temper. She stretched, indulging in the bliss of it, like a cat in the sun she could feel herself go mindless to its heady comfort. The world around her felt softer, kinder. Even the lumpy bedding. With that, Daera drifted off and the Princess's dreams were as strange as they always were. Though less terrifying admittedly. 

She dreamt of her chambers and its strange silence. Of herself, sleeping. In the dream the Princess opened her eyes, awakening to the dark, stoney chambers. The fire dimmed and the world around her cast in a strange fog. 

Outside, the wind wailed softly and she came to the window, gazing upon the scorched earth lit by the pale light of the moon. It was an odd sight. Such beauty, forever scarred by flame. What irony that the Riverlands were now dry. 

Suddenly, she felt a familiar chill run through her bones. The same chill she oft has in his nightmares. Her eyes widened, and Daera remained still until her attention was drawn by a voice which beckoned from the halls. 

Daera turned, tilting her head as she walked slowly towards the doors. Her pale nightgown and robe trailing. Her heart thumped slowly, though the voices grew, she did not fear them for some reason... 

As her hand came to the cool doorknob, Daera turned them slowly, carefully pulling the heavy wood. What she faced was nil but an empty hall. Shadowy, lit only by the strands of moonlight which casted a fractured glow upon the stone. Daera stood back, a trickle of fear running through her as the halls themselves felt like a looming force not to be disturbed. 

But the voices grew again, beckoning her. The Princess couldn't quite make out what they were saying, some in fact seemed to not be speaking in the common tongue at all. But they were soft, luring. 

Daera followed them, slowly moving through the halls in a daze. Her body coursing now with that familiar warmth from earlier. If she wasn't sure she was already dreaming, she could've sworn she might fall asleep.

She made her way through the dark, half unknowingly. It seemed the world around her melted into the shadows. The only confirmation Daera had she was moving forward were the peaks of light from the thin windows. The dark had engulfed her completely. It seemed the halls were but a maze she had no sense of navigation for, but as she came across two large doors, a strange feeling bloomed within her. That this was where the voices were leading her too. 

Daera opened the door, her eyes heavy as they set upon the familiar sight. Though it was dark, only lit by a few small candles and a dying fire. The chamber was streaked by the moonlight illuminating a sight she had seen many times. Aemond's bed. Somehow, it seemed she ended up in his quarters here in Harrenhal. 

Despite having walked what she thought was the opposed way. 

She entered, closing the door behind her and when she turned again, she was met with pale skin, raven hair splayed out upon Aemond's bed. Alys. 

Daera stopped, her eyes opening as she came to see how the woman lay bare. Her sharp face peering up at the princess, and giving her a warm smile. 

Alys moved, sitting up slowly and Daera turned her head; a coil of embarrassment within her that she would walk in upon Alys in such a state. 

But the bastard only gazed, her green eyes leering over Daera's curves. The two women said nothing, before Daera felt the sudden urge to turn to face Alys. 

At first she wished to cringe, but as her eyes scanned the bare and pale flesh of the woman before her, that warmth grew. 

Daera found herself taking in Alys' breasts, her hips and thighs. The silvery ripples of stretched skin upon her belly, contrasted with her raven hair - thick like a belt of the night sky. 

The Princess moved closer and closer until she stood before the witch. Alys sat neatly upon the edge of the bed gazing upwards. Daera's eyes grew wide, both with desire and shame. 

It was a forbidden temptation to indulge in, an act which would tarnish Daera forever; even if it was just a dream, even if it was the conjurings of her mind... to know such desires lay within her was enough. 

Daera stepped back, uncertain - just as she did the pale and harsh grip of Alys snatched her wrist. The witch tugged her closer until her legs were pinned between the sitting Alys.

"Where are you going... surely you wish to stay." Her voice had curled, a thick sultry husk as she glanced up at the Princess. 

Daera felt herself shake slightly, her mind reeling at the thought of it all. But she nodded, sparking a smile from Alys. 

"Good..." Alys murmured. "Sit yourself here...." She gently patted the edge of the bed, a gesture which seemed less of a request and more a demand.

Daera sat quietly, the warmth spreading through her as she took a peak at the pale and soft bare flesh of Alys beside her. The Princess squeezed her thighs together to stifle whatever feeling dwelled between them. 

The witch snickered, moved closer before she let her hand slide upon Daera's clothed thigh. Alys leaned in, her lips grazing her ear, "I can smell such shame... and such desire..." Her voice but a whisper. 

Daera froze, her eyes watching as Alys hand slid between her clothed thighs. 

"All this cloth you wear, it is such a hindrance. Surely it does no good for you to adorn something so... restrictive." The witch whispered once more, feeling the layers or fabric which hid Daera's skin. 

"Modesty is a virtue for women..." Daera spoke softly, shakily. Though the conviction in her voice weak. 

Alys tutted and scoffed, "Mm... is that what the Dowager Queen taught you? That you are but a vessel to be adorned by the virtues men bestowed upon us? You are a dragon... my girl." The witch let her pale hands come to Daera's robe, peeling it off her. 

Alys discarded the robe to the floor and Daera let her. The Princess caught in a daze of uncertainty and desire. The warmth spread through her core at the mere suggestion of what the bastard woman claimed. 

The princess felt cool lips at her neck, kissing and siphoning at her skin, as hands worked to rid her of her nightgown. Daera let out a shuddered breath. 

"Indeed, I've much to show you Princess. Just as I have the Prince..." Alys spoke lowly, raising her brow as she revealed Daera's form before her. Her small clothes still sitting over her pelvis. 

The princess turned her head, catching the green eyes of Alys. A chill ran down her spine at the mention of her brother. They were in his bed... doing such sinful things. Exactly where the witch had surely gotten her brother to do the same. 

Daera tilted her head, her eyes pleading as Alys had grabbed her chin, pulling it so their faces met. The witch's fingers then grazed over Daera's plush lips as she whispered.

"Such pretty lips... gone unkissed.." Alys inched forward, cupping Daera's jaw. Suddenly their lips met in a slow, languid kiss. Daera found herself slightly shocked by the sensation. It was... wetter than she had expected. 

The princess leaned in, as that warmth spread through her. She kissed Alys back, winning a small moan from the woman. Alys grinned, feeling a sense of victory dawn over her as she reached between the Princess's legs, grazing the warmth of her clothed core. 

Instantly the sensation sent Daera reeling, she found herself turning, kneeling upon the bed as Alys did the same. The Princess let her hands come to Alys' hair, trailing down until she reached the soft peaks of her breasts. 

It was swiftly that Alys' herself moved her lips to Daera's neck, trailing down until she reached the Princess' plush breast. Her lips wrapped around the pink bud which adorned one, sucking softly. 

Daera tilted her head back, her eyes wide and she found her hips moving equally upon Alys' hand as it rubbed against her clothed core. It was so wrong, so utterly unthinkable that she dare let her brother's bedmate touch her. 

Yet Alys muttered against Daera's breast, her hands now finding the band of the small clothes which covered the Princess' core. "Such a desirous girl..." 

Suddenly, Alys forced Daera to lay flat upon the bed. The witch hovered above her, pulling the small clothes from the Princess' form. 

Daera looked upon Alys in a complete daze, the warmth which flooded through her blood had rendered her useless to any protest. And she watched as Alys slid down, pulling Daera forward until her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. 

The bastard pulled herself to kneel directly in front of Daera. Her head was now level with the princess' thighs, and as she looked up at her knowingly, a maligned smirk played on her face. As the small clothes fell to the floor Alys' hands began to crawl up the princess' thighs, trailing upwards, like spiders upon white silk. 

The witch sat up, her own thighs pressing into the bedding as she gazed up at Daera. Her fingers found purchase on the princess' upper thighs gripping and then parting them. Daera gasped, squirming as she watched the witch claw towards her, her head settled between Daera's open thighs. 

"There we are..." Alys purred, as she pressed her face against the Princess's flesh, kissing her lightly, taking in her scent. The witch muttered once more, "Sweet... like moonbloom." 

Alys took her time, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of her legs.  The witch's hands gripping and stroking Daera's flesh. 

"Have you ever had someone before, princess?" she asked, her breath warm like a summer evening.

Daera looked down, her brows furrowed in surrender. Her core aching and wet, she had never felt she desire before, never felt such need demand it be tended to. The Princess whispered, "No..." 

"Mm, as I thought, a flower left to wilt." The witch let her lips move upwards, trailing towards Daera's core, she spoke once more, "How lucky I am to be... to taste not just a dragon, but a maiden too. Lovely..." 

Alys placed a kiss upon the princess' core, though feather light, was but enough to make Daera's body shudder. 

The witch chuckled, her breath hot against Daera's slick folds, "Sensitive..." she murmured, a smirk upon her lips.

And just like that, Alys used  her hands to spread the princess' legs further, swiftly clasping her mouth upon Daera's cunt. 

The witch's tongue began to move, swirling as a serpent against the sensitive skin. She lapped up Daera's wetness and the princess was all but awe struck by the feeling. She parted her legs further, her hands coming to Alys' black locks, tugging at them. 

Her head falling backwards in bliss, mouth hung as a soft whimper left her. The feeling of Alys' tongue upon her felt like fire shredding through her skin, Daera moved her hips slightly chasing the intensity. 

As the princess' head dropped back Alys let her gaze wander upwards, enjoying the sight of the girl unleashed. Such a demure temperament Daera seemed to embody, seemed all but lost as the Princess groaned. Alys felt satisfaction coil in her, to have the silver haired girl brought to a whorish state only fueled the witch's ministrations.

She pulled back for a moment and muttered, placing teasing kisses upon the wet cunt before her, "Does it feel good, sweet dragon? To feel my mouth where no man has laid claim to you before?" Alys' voice like a siren song. 

The teasing kisses and soft tone of the witch made Daera whimper once more, she nodded. Her voice trembling, "Yes... my Lady.." 

Alys chuckled, enjoying hearing the princess call her 'lady'. The sight was one which was most wanton, the two women in such a vulnerable embrace, indulging in desires that would surely see them hung. Though a strange flicker of affection coiled within Alys. Unlike her brother, Daera was easier, sweeter. She was not used to such control, for usually she was the one to lay below a dragon. Aemond was rarely tender in his touch, at times it had seemed he merely wished to relinquish himself of something than indulge as Daera seemed to. 

Indeed, Daera seemed desperate for it, longing to be touched so tenderly. It was only a few times Alys had managed to encounter such need from Aemond. To have him laying in her arms, wrapped in an embrace. Though he oft acted above such affections after they took place. 

Alys tilted her head and spoke cooingly, "Such a pretty thing you are...such pretty sounds you make." With that, her tongue curled, finding the sweet, pulsing core of the princess once more.

Her hands gripped and pulled Daera closer, until she was all but pressed flush against the witch's face. Alys moaned at the sensation of her own cunt flooding with desire. 

Quickly, Daera felt the intensity building. She moaned, her head tilting further back as her back arched into the feeling. What a dream this was, what heavenly visions her mind had created. The pleasure so intense Daera hadn't noticed the sly sound of an open door. The slow, heavy footsteps of boots upon the creeking floor. 

A lonesome eye narrowing upon the scene. Raven hair buried between pale thighs. Silver hair catching in the thread of moonlight upon his bed. His paramour's lips upon his sister's cunt. 

It was no dream at all. 

○Part II○

[tournettes]

"Myself and Queen Alicent propose to you that Daera Targaryen marry Aemond Targaryen, to strengthen our family ties"

THE WAY I GASPED...

The Forbidden Dragon (1/?)

Synopsis: You all gather in King’s Landing to hear the succession of Driftmark, with an unexpected advantage for our Lady.

Warnings: eventual smut, just not in this part

Reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon, born before Jacaerys. I also named her cos sometimes I find y/n cringe. Also there will be smut soon, just thought this chapter was very long already!

Also will do a Part 2 of this that will have the feast.

3,739 words

It was a grey, darkened day at sea. You and your mother has resorted to travelling to King’s Landing by ship as she was pregnant with her now 7th child. Your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, was visibly nervous, smoothing her fingers repeatedly over her whitened knuckles, perhaps it was meeting her father again that was the reason. But you knew the real reason.

As Rhaenyra stared at the sea from the side of the boat, you slowly approached to stand beside her, taking her hand, and placing it within your own grasp. She thanked you by looking over at your and smiling nervously before returning her gaze to the ocean.

Keep reading

[kckt88]

Love Me Harder - PREVIEW

Summary:

Daera Targaryen, wife of Aemond, is thrown into turmoil when she receives an anonymous letter detailing her husband's infidelity with a mysterious witch at Harrenhal named Alys Rivers. The letter, shrouded in secrecy, raises the doubts and suspicions in Daera's mind, and as she grapples with the shocking revelation, she then has to decide how she will address the potential betrayal that threatens to unravel her relationship with Aemond.

Warning(s): Angst, Hurt, Fear, Possible Cheating, Doubt, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex (M & F Receiving), P in V Sex.

Word Count: TBC

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

AEMOND x SISTER WIFE

Inspired by the song: ARIANA GRANDE & THE WEEKEND - LOVE ME HARDER.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

With trepidation, Daera unrolled the parchment, her eyes quickly scanning the words that accused her beloved husband, Aemond, of having an affair with Alys Rivers, the alleged strong bastard witch of Harrenhal.

A mixture of emotions coursed through Daera in a single moment - betrayal, anger, and a deep-seated sorrow that threatened to consume her. The flames in the hearth flickered, casting endless shadows that seemed to dance in mockery of her shattered world.

Tears welled in her violet eyes as she clutched the parchment to her chest. The once-unbreakable bond between her and Aemond now seemed like fragile glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

The unborn babe within her gave a firm kick, almost as if he or she could sense her anguish.

In the cold silence of the chamber, Daera found herself at a crossroads, unsure of the path that lay ahead, torn between the love she once knew and the shadows that now threatened to engulf her world.