#daughter of rhaenyra & daemon

[gotham-at-nightfall]

House of the Dragon Playing Cards

The King and the Queen

The Cast-Aside Queens

The Queen's Right-Hand men

The Second Sons

Daughters of the Rogue Prince

The Innocent and the Guilty

The New Hands

The Warden of the North

By Dvincii

[chloe-skywalker]

Daughter Like Mother - Cregan Stark / Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra x Daughter!Fem!Reader

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Fem!Reader

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 2,053

Summary: Rhaenyra loves her daughter, even if she’s to much like her sometimes.

Authors Note: Takes place during season 1

Masterlist

House Of The Dragon Masterlist

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“Mother.” Y/n greeted as she jumped off her dragon having just landed from her ride.

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra greeted her daughter with a smile.

“It’s a lovely day to ride. Isn’t it?” Y/n smiled widely as she walked over towards her mother.

“Indeed it is.” She agreed before her face turned to a solemn grimace. “We need to talk.”

“What about?” Y/n played innocent as if she didn’t have a clue.

“I think you know.” Rhaenyra state’s knowingly.

“Ah the get married talk.” Y/n bit her lip, a sour look coming up on her face.

“You don’t have to get married right away. But look for someone you want to marry. Yes, you do need to do that.” Rhaenyra knew her daughter wanted to be free not tied down so she was expecting some backlash and defiance for wanting her to start thinking about marriage.

“Find someone that would love to control me and keep me locked away?” Y/n asked with narrowed eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” Rhaenyra tells her with sad eye’s.

“I do not want to lose my freedom. That’s what marriage will get me.” Y/n shook her head.

“If you take the time to find a man that you like and you get to know him you could find one that won’t treat you that way.” Rhaenyra tries to tell her hoping she’d understand that not all relationships have to be that way. She wasn’t all that shocked that her daughter viewed marriage the way she did when she was younger. But it saddened her that Y/n’s view on relationships was so bleak. Her own marriage wasn’t horrible to Laenor and neither was her marriage to Daemon. But Rhaenyra knew that she had been lucky in that department.

“He could lie just to get me to like him and then lock me away after our vows are said.” Y/n told her, it was one of her fears. Being lied to and falling for someone only to marry and then for them to show their colors and control her.

“I won’t let that happen.” Rhaenyra promises her daughter reaching for her shoulders and looking her in the eye’s. But she could tell Y/n didn’t fully believe her and Rhaenyra blamed herself. For staying in King's Landing to long and her seeing such horrible relationships there of all kinds.

Rhaenyra knew Y/n was done talking about this for the time being so with a reminder to wash up before dinner later before leaving back to the castle of DragonStone. Once she got back to her chambers it wasn’t a surprise to her that her husband/uncle was there already.

“How’d it go?” Daemon asked, looking up noticing his wife/niece enter the room.

“She wants nothing to do with looking for a sutor or getting married.” She sighed.

“Did she give a reason?” Daemon questioned knowing Y/n more than likely had a good reason. After all she was the product of him and Rhaenyra before her marriage to Laenor, he and Y/n had a great relationship.

“She doesn’t want to lose her freedom.” Rhaenyra tell’s him, summing up the conversation she had with their daughter.

“She’s exactly like her mother.” Daemon smirked proudly.

Rhaenyra opened her mouth at his statement. “I was-”

“Exactly the same way. But you had a different type of duty to uphold. She doesn’t have to carry the weight of it like you did and because of that we can take our time and so can she. That way we can make sure Y/n doesn’t end up in a loveless marriage.” Daemon interrupted walking over to her and cupping the back of her neck putting their foreheads together. Neither of them planned to let any of their children be in loveless marriages.

“There’s a celebration in a week’s time. Maybe someone there will catch her interest.” She spoke after thinking over his words.

“Hmmhmm.” Daemon hummed but he was convinced his little dragon wouldn’t curve her view that easily. Someone would have to really work for her affections.

^     ^     ^

It was finally the day of the celebration and Rhaenyra and Daemon along with all their children had flown on dragon back to the Red Keep. They weren’t the only ones to travel for the celebration, lords and ladies and others had traveled far for the celebrations. 

But Y/n knew the ball being held was also a way to subtly get her introduced to the available men of the realm for potential suitors. Y/n was standing before her mirror looking at herself in the ball gown specifically made for tonight. It was beautiful, Y/n thought.

“Come in.” Y/n called out at the knock on her chamber door.

“You look beautiful.” Rhaenyra smiled at her beautiful daughter as she entered the room and walked over to stand right behind her.

“Thank you.” Y/n looked at her mother in the mirror through their reflections.

“I know you're probably not excited about tonight. But I ask that you at least try.” She pleaded with her hoping she’d at least give it a chance.

“I will try. But no guarantees.” Y/n sighed not really wanting to but she’d try. For her mom she’d try.

“That's all I ask.” Rhaenyra smiled gratefully.

Later at the celebration Daemon had noticed Y/n was trying to just stay in the corner to be unseen. Just observing the ball so he decided to go over to her and talk to her figuring it was the perfect time.

“I see you look so thrilled to be here.” Daemon said as he stood next to his daughter.

“Over the moon.” Y/n said with a flat tone of voice. Both observed the people filling the room.

“I can understand your feelings about this. There warranted. But may I ask you to do something?” He spoke up tilting his head down in her direction.

“Mother already gave me the ‘At least try’ talk.” Y/n rolled her eyes looking back at him.

“I’m not going to tell you to try.” He scoffed.

Y/n furrowed her brow confused. “Then what?”

“I just want to ask you to be nice to the poor bastards that are here to try and woo you.” Daemon sent her a wink followed by a mischievous smile.

“I’ll tell you what I told my mother. I’ll try but there are no guarantees.” Y/n smiled up at him with the same mischief.

“That's my dragon.” Daemon kissed her forehead before giving off in search of his wife/niece.

Y/n was polite to everyone that came over to talk but most seemed to lose interest and leave her be when she showed no interest in fawning all over them. Y/n didn’t mind, she wasn’t going to be something that she’s not.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.” Cregan Stark leaned down to whisper in her ear from behind.

Y/n turned her head slightly at the voice. It was very close but surprisingly not unwelcome. “You're very observant.”

“Cregan Stark.” He introduced himself as he moved around to stand in front of her and bowed.

“Y/n Targaryen.” She nodded her head in acknowledgment.

“I can tell.” Cregan smiled leaning in closely but not to close to crowd her.

“Oh?” Y/n raised a brow.

“You are glaring daggers. If looks could kill princess, well . . .” He tilted his head teasingly. Which was shocking to anyone that knew the Warden of the North if they saw him. It wasn’t in his nature but for some reason it came easy if the princesses company.

Y/n was intrigued by his playful nature so she turned her body to face him. Both of them are leaning against the wall near them. In their own little bubble they created rather quickly.

“And here I thought I was being subtle.” Y/n answered.

“You mask it pretty well with boredom.” He nodded telling her she was in fact masking it but not from him.

“Oh well that I’m not trying to hide.” She looked him up and down, almost challenging him to change that.

“And why are you so bored and dare I say angry? If I may ask, of course.” Cregan placed a hand on his chest mocking hurt.

“You may Lord Stark.” Y/n was shocked on the inside at his humor and the fact he came up to her and didn’t start off with talking himself up or marriage. He wanted to joke, have a real conversation with her as if they didn’t have titles attached to their names. “This whole night is a set up for me to find potential suitors.”

“And that causes such a reaction?” he questioned with a comically shocked look.

“Yes. I don’t want to find a suitor. That means getting married.” Y/n told him.

“And why do you despise marriage Princess?” Cregan was genuinely wanting to know why she felt so strongly against marriage.

“I don’t want to be locked away and controlled.” Y/n tells him straight.

“And that’s marriage to you?” Cregan wanted to know more. Like ‘Why?’ she felt that way. He knew things were different here than the North, but was it truly that different?

“Its what every man who is vieing for my hand wants. A name, status, and a woman to control and fuck to have their own heirs with. Nothing more. Not a woman with a mind of her own.” Y/n explains to him. She didn’t know why she felt she could tell him anything but he just felt different compared to everyone else.

Cregan nodded understanding her explanation and how true it was unfortunately. “You still want to do the things you love and enjoy. You don’t want to give up being your own person.”

Y/n looked him in the eyes shocked that he got it. “Exactly.”

“I don’t think you're being unreasonable. I think you just don’t wanna be a slave to your future husband.” He shook his head looking her in the eye’s with a kindness no suitor had ever looked at her with.

“That's what they all want. Slave for a wife, who shuts up and pushes out babies.” Y/n let out a sad laugh casting his gaze down.

“Yes, that’s what most of them want.” Cregan agreed but he took another step forward and cupped her cheek. The two were so close their chests were touching. Y/n looked back up and gazed into his eyes. “It’s not what I want.”

“Is that so?” Y/n looked into his eyes, curious but still cautious.

“Why don’t we dance, and talk? That way you can find out.” He held out his free hand as he offered to dance. Something that with anyone else he would not have offered to do.

Y/n thought about it for a moment debating if she truly believed him or not. And she did. Y/n put her hand in his. “Lead the way Lord Stark.”

“As you wish, princess.” Cregan smiled, leading her to the dance floor in the center of the room. Where the two only focused on the other the whole night, laughing and talking the whole time they danced.

“Looks like one man was brave enough to try and get to know her.” Daemon leaned in to speak in Rhaenyra’s ear. The couple knew Y/n was a pure dragon not just in blood but in attitude and it took someone brave to go up and be willing to get to know the sweet girl under the wall’s she had built to others. Of course the man brave enough was a Northern, a Stark no less.

“By the looks of it she seems to enjoy his company.” Rhaenyra smiled at the thought of her daughter having found someone that she’d let in and truly know her. Let someone make her happy in that special way that love can. “Maybe he’s the one.” She looked up to her uncle/husband with hope in her eyes.

“Eh, we’ll see about this.” Daemon smiled but he was also thinking of ways to test the young Stark. Make sure he was good enough for his little dragon.

Taglist:

@gruffle1 @padawancat97 @maryvibess @misspendragonsworld @starkleila

[liusia-piu]

[poppyflower-22]

Nothing To Worry About?

Summary: Benjicot confronts you on your past relationship with Aegon.

Warnings: Incest (as usual) This is a modern au. Small talk of virginity. Mention of still birth.

Side note: Spelling and grammar mistakes. This could be a part 2 to lifetime if you like.

To love someone is to love all of them. No matter there flaws. No matter what they do.

You had seen you mother love your father's. She had loved your step father Harwin Strong. And she had loved your father Daemon.

While the rest of your family was complicated you had always known and seen what love was and how it should be received and given.

While Harwin wasn't your father, he treated you like his daughter. He showed loved to you like a father should do.

It was how you had known that what you felt for Benjicot Blackwood was love. You had known because your mother had spoken of how that's what she felt for your fathers.

It had made you feel like you had butterfly's in in your stomach. And you had never felt like this, you could feel like this forever.

“Is he good to you?” Jace asked his sister. You turned to your brother and smiled.

“Yeah.” You looked back over at Benjicot, who was playing with Aegon, your younger brother.

You felt a hand on your arm. “I’m happy for you, sister.” Jace whispered, kissing the side of your forehead.

Jace was happy that his friend was good to you. He was always going to look out for you but more so after the whole Aegon thing.

You sighed and walked over to Ben. Benji smiled up at you as you bent down on your knees.

“Hey buddy.” You greeted your younger brother. Your brother smiled at you before going back to playing with his toy dragons.

“Aegon!” Rhaenyra called, making young Aegon run over to his mother.

“Come on.” You said as you took Benji’s hand and walked up to your bedroom.

Benji squeezed your hand as you both walked past the living room where your uncles were. Aegon, your uncle smirked at Benji, knowing it would get on his nerves.

“I bloody hate him.” Benji mumbled. As he lay on her bed. He lay on his side. He had his hand on his chin as he watched you.

Your orange cat, Maple, jumped on the bed and snuggled up to Benji. He pat her making her purr.

You sat at your vanity and took off your earrings and jewellery, but your promise ring Benji had given you.

“Just ignore him.” You mumbled back, not wanting to talk about Aegon.

“Well it’s hard to when he’s here all the time.” He shot back.

You signed. “You know mother and Alicent are being friendly again, and Aegon just tags along.”

Ben groaned and dropped his head onto her soft fluffy pillows, Maple not moving as she was a deep sleeper. You smiled at your boyfriend before walking over to join him on the bed. Maple purred as you moved her softly so you could cuddle your boyfriend.

Benji smiled, letting you cuddle closer to him. He put his hand around your waist. You kissed his neck as you were put to sleep by your boyfriend.

Even him just there made you fall asleep.

Benji was cresting your back as he heard you breathing get steady, meaning you were asleep. He carefully got out of your arms and put the stuffed weighted dragon toy in your arms.

He stepped out to your balcony that was connected to your room and lit his cigarette.

As he looked out the mountains that were literally in your back, he thought of you.

The first time he ever saw you was in that book shop. He knew who you were. How could he not? You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And you were a Targaryen.

You had giggled at him when he stumbled over his words. He was nervous to talk to you, but he got over that as you both started seeing each other.

His first had been you, his first kiss, the person that took it. He was even more drawn to you after that. He tried his best to love and cherish you with his whole heart.

He loved you too much to ever let you go. He thinks if you ever got away that he would simply die. Sounds dramatic, but his soul was yours.

And it was a plus your family approved of him.

Daemon had been harder to get the approval of. You were his little girl. And any boy wasn’t going to be good enough for you. But he liked Benji, he could protect you.

Jace was already sort of friends with him. They played football together. But they came closer after Benji started dating you. Jace was like Daemon, protective, but Jace knew you were safe with him.

Rhaenyra was the one person Benji had been he most nervous about meeting. You loved your mother with all your heart. You were her only girl. After your little sister Visneya died a still birth, your mother had been even more protective of you.

But the moment you told her about Benji, she knew that without even meeting the boy, he was the one for you. That he treated you like you were the only girl on the earth. And for that, Rhaenyra had treated Benji like another one of her sons.

Your door being open pulled him away from his thoughts of you. He turned his head to see who it was, he thought it would be your mother or brother but it was Aegon.

Benji sat up more on the rail at the sight of your uncle. He didn't like him. From just the way he used to treat girls in school and college. And also that you and Aegon use to have a close relationship.

You always hesitated in telling him anything about your time with Aegon when you were younger, but Benji had guessed what could have happened.

"What are you doing?" Benji snapped at the boy making Aegon snap his head over to him.

Aegon smirked and walked his way to the doorway of the balcony. "Just checking up on my niece."

"Well, she's fine." Benji grumbled and put his cigarette out on the rail before jumping off the rail to put it in the ashtray that sat on the small table.

Aegon shugged and crossed his arms, "She's my niece. We are close." He smirked at the black haired boy. Aegon watched as he clenched his jaw in anger. "We are so close. I would say closer than people think." He taunted the boy.

Benji clenched his fist before he took a step and got right in Aegons face, making him gulp at the glint in Beni's eyes. "You were close. Were. You're not close anymore. She has me. She doesn't need you. She comes to me with her problems, not you." Benji spat.

He walked over to you and sat down on the edge and moved some of your white hair out of your face.

Aegon’s smirk drooped. Yes, you and him were close. More close than anyone in the family. But after a while, when he had left for his first year in community college, you had distanced yourself from him. And before he knew it, you were bringing your new boyfriend home.

He glanced at the way Benjicot moved your hair softly away from your face. He used to do that with you. He taught you everything you knew.

Aegon walked angrily towards your bedroom door before he left he turned to Benji and said something that would hopefully make him angry, "Hey Benji, did she take you to her favourite place in Rome Did you take the nighttime walk where the violin players always play?" Aegon asked with a smirk before he left the room.

He left a confused and hurt Benji and a sleeping unaware girl.

The dinner was uncomfortable. You had tried to talk to Benji, but all he had done was tell you dinner was ready.

You don't know what had happened since you had fallen asleep. You had tried to hold his hand, but he shook that of as well.

He was sat between your brother and you. Helena sat next to you. Aegon sat across from him,

You had decided that if your boyfriend was going to be a dick to you for no reason, then you would talk to your sweet aunt.

Benji had tried to listen to Jace talk about his trip to Paris with his girlfriend Sarah Snow. But all he could think about was you.

When you had asked him if he wanted to go to Rome for a few days, he had jumped at the opportunity. You had been on many small trips together, but Rome was a place you loved.

And knowing that Aegon had been there and done exactly what you two did didn't sit right with him. Maybe it was jealously. But he just didn't like it.

"They had this amazing butterfly room there. You would love it Hel, we have to go, one day." You gushed to your aunt.

"Of course. Butterflies are just so beautiful. Anymore insects there?" Helena asked, interested in the other bugs you could have seen.

Aegon, laughing quietly and looking at you, made Benji snap.

"If you excuse us." Benji said to Jace, who nodded and watched as he stood up and took your hand. "We need to talk." He simply said.

You let him pull you away. Confused. "What's going on? Ever since I woke up, you have been acting weird." You huffed as he closed the sliding doors to the back yard.

Benji scoffed at you. "That fucking craven cunt." He spat making your eye widened in surprise.

"Wow, wow, wow." You rushed out in order for him to stop before he said anything else. "You need to actually tell me what's wrong. Not curse words. Words." You advised him.

Now, that's what he loved about you. You could stop him, calm him down before he went on and on, and worked himself up. But he was already worked up.

"Aegon!" He yelled at her, making her step back in surprise. "He basically told me that you both went to Rome together and that doesn't make me upset, no what makes me upset is that not only did we do what you and him did, you lied to me about it. All I want is honesty from you." He explained to you.

You sighed. You closed your eyes and pinched your nose. "Fucking Aegon." You cursed. He could always ruin something. "Look." You began taking his hand in yours. "What me and Aegon had was a long time ago. Yes we went to Rome together and did what we did. But did you ever stop and think why?" She asked him with a head tilt.

When he shook his head softly, you smiled sweetly at him. "It was because I wanted to replace that memory that I have with him with you. You are the one that I love. Not him."

You took a breath for the next words may be hard for him to hear. "I wish all my firsts had been with you."

Benji narrowed his eyes and, with a clenched jaw, looked away. He didn't pull away. Seeing this, you grabbed his face in your hands and brought his face back towards you.

"But I know I have many other first with you." You smiled up at him. You dragged your hands down his arms again. "Our first home, our first pet together, our first child..." You trailed off with a nervous smile. He smiled lightly at you, knowing you were right.

He had a bunch of first with you yet to come.

Benji sighned and leaned his forehead on yours. They stood there for a few monets. Just in the silence.

"I'm such an idiot." He whispered you with a small laugh.

You shook your head with a giggle. You put your hands on his cheeks, making him look at you in your unique purple blue eyes. "It's normal for you to feel thease things. I'm sorry for not telling you what really happened between us. And I will, but maybe when we go back to yours." You told him with a smile. You crest his cheek.

Benji leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. You melted into the kiss. Benji wrapped his arms around your waist as yours went into his hair and pulled it, making his groan.

You parted and smiled at eachother.

"You were jealous. " You giggled at the blush of embarrassment on his face. He hated being jealous.

"I was not." He grumbled into your neck, making you giggle more. Benji smiled at your giggles. "I love you so much." He sighed in your neck.

You smiled, racking your hands over his hair. "I love you as well, Benji. So much." You whispered into his ear and placed a soft kiss there.

Even if Aegon was always going to be in your life, at least Benji had the resurgence of knowing he was yours and you were his.

You were from a complicated family. A family that was broken from the death of your grandmother. But you had each other to hold.

I am thinking of making this a little small series. I was bored and listening to music.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

it looked like that punch took all his strength how is his mother not embarrassed Harwin is rolling in the dust

[lady-corrine]

I do think people forget that when Rhaenyra walked the castle battlements of Duskendale weeping, refusing to eat or sleep, she was, in all the ways, heartbreakingly alone. She was a mother with five children lost, a widow too (for some reason people forget this aspect?), a dragonrider who had her dragon with whom she had shared her cradle killed (the canon literally tells us that Syrax's death left her inconsolable). It's just very interesting how for some people everyone else is allowed to suffer and their losses are blown out of proportion, but Rhaenyra isn't, and her total losses (which were devastating) are of little to no value to some.

[asoiafpalestine]

Our 71st art piece is...

Daemon and his daughter Visenya, by @thetullystark here on tumblr! For @daemontlover.

We’re currently not taking further commissions. Check out our page for our current information and to see how you can still help Palestinians in need!

[emmaxrosa]

claudia & rhaenyra; doomed by the narrative

house of the dragon, ryan condal & george r.r. martin / anne rice's interview with the vampire, rolin jones / fire & blood, george r.r. martin

[camelotsscribe]

a mothers love, rheanyra targaryen

pairing: rhaenyra x daughter!reader summary: rhaenyra targaryen, despite her responsibilities, spends a cherished day with her child, bonding over stories and a dragon ride. she later gives a heartfelt letter to her child, expressing her unwavering love and strength, ensuring they feel her presence even when she’s not around. warnings: fluff my etsy shop: camelot's scribe | letters from your favorite character

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

the sun had barely risen over dragonstone, casting a soft, golden hue across the island fortress. the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore created a soothing rhythm, one that you had come to associate with home. as you made your way through the winding corridors of the castle, the faint smell of the sea lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of burning candles and freshly baked bread.

in the heart of dragonstone, your mother, rhaenyra targaryen, sat by the large wooden table in her chambers, poring over maps and letters. her presence was commanding, her silver-gold hair cascading down her back, and her eyes, the same striking violet as yours, filled with determination and love.

"good morning, mother," you greeted her, entering the room with a small smile.

rhaenyra looked up, her stern expression softening as she saw you. "good morning, my sweet dragon," she replied, her voice warm and melodic. "come, sit with me."

you crossed the room and took a seat beside her. despite the weight of her responsibilities, rhaenyra always made time for you, her child. it was a promise she had made to herself and one she never broke.

"how are you feeling today?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch your hand.

"better," you replied, though the concern in her eyes told you she knew better. "i was hoping we could spend some time together today."

rhaenyra nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "of course. i've finished most of my duties for the morning. what would you like to do?"

"can we go for a ride on syrax?" you asked, your eyes lighting up at the thought of flying with your mother on her magnificent dragon.

rhaenyra's smile widened, and she stood up, offering her hand. "i think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

together, you made your way to the dragon pit, where syrax awaited. the great golden dragon let out a low rumble as she saw rhaenyra approach, her eyes gleaming with recognition. with practiced ease, rhaenyra helped you climb onto syrax's back before mounting herself.

as syrax took to the skies, you felt the familiar rush of wind against your face, the exhilaration of flight filling your heart. rhaenyra's arms wrapped securely around you, her warmth and strength a comforting presence.

"you know, your father loved to fly," rhaenyra said, her voice carrying over the roar of the wind. "it was one of the things we bonded over when we were young."

you turned to look at her, curiosity piqued. "will you tell me more about him?"

rhaenyra's eyes softened, and she nodded. "of course, my love. your father was a brave and noble man, with a heart full of passion and fire. he loved deeply and fiercely, much like you."

as she spoke, you felt a sense of connection to a past you had never known, a bond that transcended time and space. the stories of your father's bravery and love filled you with pride and a deeper understanding of your own heritage.

hours passed as you flew together, sharing stories and laughter. when you finally returned to dragonstone, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the castle.

later that evening, as you prepared for bed, a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. rhaenyra entered, holding a folded piece of parchment in her hand.

"i wrote something for you," she said, her voice soft and filled with emotion. "i thought it might bring you comfort when i'm not around."

you took the letter from her, your heart swelling with love and gratitude. "thank you, mother."

rhaenyra kissed your forehead, her touch tender and loving. "goodnight, my sweet dragon. sleep well."

as she left the room, you unfolded the letter and began to read:

my dearest child,

in the quiet moments when i am alone with my thoughts, my heart often turns to you. i see in you the strength and spirit of our ancestors, the fire of the targaryens burning brightly within your soul. it is a fire that will guide you through the darkest of times and illuminate your path when all seems lost.

know that my love for you is boundless, a fierce and unwavering force that no distance or time can diminish. you are my pride, my joy, and my greatest treasure. every decision i make, every battle i fight, is for you and our family's future.

when the weight of the world feels too heavy, remember the stories i have told you of our ancestors' bravery and resilience. you come from a line of kings and queens, warriors and dreamers, and you carry their legacy within you.

i may not always be by your side, but my love and my spirit will forever be with you. be brave, my sweet dragon, and let your heart guide you. trust in yourself, for you have a strength within you that is unmatched.

with all my love, mother

tears filled your eyes as you read the letter, each word a testament to your mother's love and devotion. you folded it carefully and placed it under your pillow, a precious reminder of the bond you shared.

as you drifted off to sleep, you felt a sense of peace and comfort, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, your mother's love would always be there to guide and protect you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

author's note: do you want a letter from rhaenyra just like the one about but more detailed? check my etsy for detailed personalized letters from any character you wish. click the link below:

[aprilcolours]

blackheart- part four

part one - part two - part three

A/N: warning: there is smut in this chapter!! A lot!! be warned!! s*x ahoy!! p*nsises and whatnot!! I’ve also started doing valyrian translations underneath the line bc there is a lot, and i'm taking liberties w black aly being witchy bc i wanna and its Cool

—

The night was young as they set out across the marshes, their horses galloping through mud and muck. 

Benjicot led the way on a black mare, their dark hair almost disappearing into the night. Just behind him rode Visenya, on a white-gray stallion. He had laughed when she picked it. 

She had changed into her favorite dress: a deep red gown with a scooping neckline, beaded and encrusted in rubies. It was odd to see her finery against the wild landscape. 

They rode North to his keep, their purpose known only to them. Vermithor remained behind, so none were the wiser as they secreted away. 

Raventree Hall was certainly not the largest castle she had ever seen, nowhere near as imposing as her home on Dragonstone. It had, however, a quiet grandeur, a dignity that spoke to ages long past and kings long dead. 

Entering into the central palisade, despite the late hour, servants immediately began rushing about, lighting braziers, making preparations for the liege-lord’s arrival.

“Maester Daris!” Benjicot called up into the hall. 

“So the rumors are true,” a woman’s voice rang out. In a doorway stood a tall thin woman with long dark curling waves of hair. She had a strange look about her, a bird-like turn to her features. 

The archer, Visenya thought, a witch they say. Black Aly, she is called. 

“The rumors of the Riverland’s witches?” Visenya replied, hair loose about her, but face impassive. The woman laughed with a nod, and bowed. Benjicot interceded to introduce, 

“My aunt, Alysanne Blackwood. And this is—”

“A princess who needs no introduction from you,” the strange woman interrupted, stepping into the foyer. “Go find the maester then,” she said, touching her nephew’s arm in reassurance. Benjicot glanced once between the women, before stepping up the stairs to wake the maester. 

“An honor, your highness,” Aly began, a cautious tilt to her words. “Would I be remiss in congratulating the joining of our houses?” 

“You would not, Lady Alysanne,” Visenya responded, her tone polite and unbothered. It was clear the other woman was sizing her up, assessing her, so she did not squirm. 

“The ceremony is to be held here? Now?”

“It is,” she replied simply, daring the elder to question her.

“You will honor our ways then I presume,” Black Aly stated, with a jut of her defiant chin. “A dragon’s maidenhead is a mighty sacrifice to the Old Ones, and I’m sure we will want all the divine favor we can manage for the war ahead.” 

The Riverlander witch spoke quietly, so their words were only theirs, but Visenya did not mistake the steel in her voice. 

My mother will rule these people, whoever their gods. And so she inclined her head in acquiesce. 

-

The ceremony was small, in the yard outdoors beneath the giant dead Weirwood tree: the maester to speak the words, Alysanne to provide a relative’s blessing, and them. 

He passed his family cloak over her shoulders, clasping it at her collarbone. The weight was comforting. 

When the Riverlanders finished their ritual however, Visenya asked for a cup of wine and a dagger. 

She raised the dagger to her lower lip and cut it, as she had seen her mother once do. She took a pull from the goblet of wine and then passed them both to Ben. He wore a slight smile as he mimicked her, slicing his own lower lip and drinking. The Valyrian ceremony was sealed with a kiss. 

Black Aly and the Maester wore twin bewildered expressions, but they witnessed the second ceremony all the same. Then they took their leave, walking back up the cobblestone path to the castle proper.

And they were suddenly, blisteringly, alone. 

Visenya’s eyes were wide in nerves, and something else stirring low and tumultuous in her gut, pupils blown open. She had always been able to maintain some small shred of composure around the subject of Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, but here and now she was stripped bare of all of it. She knew what came next and it frightened and excited her in equal measure. Here she could not be the princess, the commander, the dragon rider. 

Here, in this torchlight, beneath the grasping unknowable branches of the dead Weirwood, she was just a girl. 

She bit her lip nervously, and more blood from the slice beaded through. Benjicot lifted a hand to her face, thumb drawing across her full lower lip and smearing the blood across her chin. 

“What troubles you, wife?” he asked, voice so low it was barely a mutter. His eyes caught a flicker of the torchlight and flashed like a wild animal’s.

“Your gods are strange,” she breathed, trying like always to gain some control of the situation.

“Aye,” he chuckled. “So are yours.” Benjicot’s eyes softened then, the viscous gleam undercut by something else— something she did not dare name. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and palmed it gently. 

“We need not do this here, if you find it displeasing,” he offered, his other hand slipping to her lower back to toy with the laces of her dress. 

She considered it: a warm bed or the cool misty ground around her. 

And she kissed him. 

The cloak fell from her shoulders first. Then the tunic off his chest. Then his fingers tangled in the laces of her dress finally gave way. She may have heard some ripping and though it was her favorite dress, he was suddenly kissing at her neck, and she couldn’t be bothered to care. He licked along her jaw and down to the juncture of the shoulder and bit down, hard. She gasped loudly, breath misting in the night air. He passed over the bite with his tongue to soothe the ache and she shivered. 

Finally, the gown slid away, and Visenya stood nude before him. She wanted badly to cover her breasts but she dared not balk. I am a dragon for gods’ sake, she thought, and so she stood straight backed, silver hair loose and tumbling over one shoulder. 

He slid his hand down her neck and to her breast, peaked against the cold. He fell to his knees, hands sliding down her frame as he went. 

He kneeled for a moment before her, as if he worshiped at her altar. She ran a hand gently through his hair. 

Then he kissed at her navel, at her hip, and finally at her core. 

He licked into her, and this too, he did like a drowning man. She gasped, and breathed, and gasped again at the foreign sensations, so strong and new, as they rocked her body. While he sucked and tongued at her center, one hand crept up to her breasts again. He pinched one nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and it was all suddenly too much—overwhelming. She called out a gasping warning, hands gripped tight against his head, before her climax rang through her like lightning. 

Her spine shot straight, back arched up to the night sky, before she folded to the ground, her head and waist caught in his hands so he could lower her carefully. 

Safely laid against the ground, Visenya caught her breath. It seemed as if the world had shifted and she was now trying to find her way back to it. Blinking her eyes clear, she noticed the Blackwood above her, watching. His eyes were unfathomably dark. 

She glanced down quickly and noticed the straining bulge against his trousers. All feelings of trepidation gone, only bliss and quiet satiety left in their wake, she reached a hand down to pull at his belt. 

“Are you sure my lady,” he breathed, a grin slashing across his flushed cheeks. “More?” 

She aimed for her signature raised brow, though she felt so content she doubted she could manage it. He laughed all the same, kneeling back for a moment to undo his belt. 

He pulled his trousers down and his manhood sprung loose, arced with a curve that looked nigh painful. 

Visenya bit her lip again. Emboldened by the pleasure still quivering through her body, she reached a hand to it and ran a thumb across its beaded tip. It was then his turn to shiver. 

They kissed languidly, unhurried, as he situated himself above her, her legs parting naturally to bracket him. They fit together well, slotting into place with a long pull of tongue against tongue. She tasted herself on him. 

His manhood teased at her entrance, before slowly inching forward with a rock of his hips. She could hear a whining-moaning noise. Distantly, she was aware it was her. In tiny increments he sheathed himself fully, pushed to the hilt. The feeling was momentarily so intense that neither dared move, foreheads resting together. 

She was so full, every pleasured nerve drawn taught in the fullness. It was perfect and also agony. So she whined, kicking her heel at his back for him to move. 

He buried a moan into her neck, and obliged. 

They rocked together, slow at first but quickly building pace. The electricity began to arc up her spine once more and she clenched her thighs in warning. As she came, the reverberations of her body ripped his climax from him as well, in a stuttering, heaving, sort of groan. 

They lay together for a long while, and the blood and seed fed the earth beneath the tree. 

-

They returned to the war camp that night, nearly as the dawn broke, exhausted but happy. He lingered at her tent, hesitant to part. She gave a soft private smile. 

“You may stay. If you like,” she offered. He simply nodded his own small smile back, too content to be the biting grin he usually wore. 

-

After too few hours of rest, Visenya and Benjicot rose and dressed for the council. They traded lazy kisses in the golden light of morning. 

The morning, like always, brought news. 

Caraxes had landed nearby. 

-

Her father stood, posture as familiar and straight backed as her own, at the council table as she approached. His dragon helm was tucked beneath one arm. The other lords eyed him warily, speaking to each other in hushed tones. 

Visenya did not falter, striding into place next to him with her chin held high. Benjicot stood behind her a few paces, defensively guarding her rear flank. 

“Kepa,” she greeted. 

Father. 

Daemon flicked his eyes to hers, they were ringed with dark circles. 

“Olvie ēza arlinnon ziry vestragon,” he rumbled, voice rasping. 

Much has changed it seems. 

Something is different in him, she noticed. Her father carried a weariness he had not before his time at Harrenhal. She inclined her head in a gesture of respect. 

“Eman won ērinnon rȳ se Qelbria,” she proclaimed.

I have won victories across the Riverlands. 

She gestured at the pieces on the board and continued, “Eman gūrogon hāre sombāzmion sīr tolmiot.”

I have taken three castles so far. 

He nodded slightly, and she paused to take a slight breath before she continued, “Eman gūrogon iā valzȳrys hae sȳrī.”

I have taken a husband as well.

[thetaxicabber]

Lucerya Targaryen is the second daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. She's raised as a princess of the realm, close with her sister Rhaenyra and feeling left out as a Targaryen with no dragon. She's a happy young girl that's still clinging to her childhood. She still skips through the hallway, admires the great historical members of her family, and loves when her Uncle Daemon plays with her. When tragedy changes their family forever, Lucerya will find that she doesn't need to wait to make herself a more powerful player in the game. She learns she needs to go after what she wants and take it.

When she begins to seek out her future husband on her fathers order, violence catches up to her. What is she going to think when her knight in shining armor is someone she shouldn't trust and she falls in love with him a little bit more each time they meet.

This amazing art is by @flamboyantjelly thank you so much for putting this cover together for the story! I really adore Lucerya and I can't wait to keep writing her story. I know I left y'all on a massive cliffhanger - you have my deepest apologies. Hoping to get the new one out this weekend!

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Valyrian Couples: Part I

Aegon I Targaryen & Rhaenys Targaryen

Aenys I Targaryen & Alyssa Velaryon

Aegon (son of Aenys) Targaryen & Rhaena Targaryen

Jaehaerys I Targaryen & Alysanne Targaryen

Baelon (son of Jaehaerys) Targaryen & Alyssa Targaryen

Viserys I Targaryen & Aemma Arryn

Rhaenyra Targaryen & Daemon Targaryen

Aegon III Targaryen and Daenaera Velaryon

Viserys II Targaryen and Larra Rogare

Daeron I Targaryen, Daena Targaryen and Baelor I Targaryen

By JotaSaraiva

PART II

[daenysthedreamer101]

HOTD Masterlist

General Masterlist

~ Daughter of Steel and Bronze (Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong)

This is the story of Princess Daena Targaryen - daughter of the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. What role will she play in the impending doom of House Targaryen?

Follow along as she learns to navigate the complex life of the Red Keep, uncovers treacherous plots, falls victim to dangerous lies, and falls in love with the heir of Harrenhal.

Will she survive the Game of Thrones or perish as so many others did?

Moodboard

Character profile

Daena x Harwin

Prologue

Ch 1 - To King's Landing

Ch 2 - Claiming your birthright

Ch 3 - Dragonstone

Ch 4 - Blood of the Dragon

Ch 5 - Victory

Ch 6 - Gone with the Wind

Ch 7 - Loss of Innocence

Ch 8 - Crossroads

Ch 9 - Child no more

Ch 10 - Signs and Portents

Ch 11 - The comforts of home

Ch 12 - Hidden secrets

Ch 13 - Daughter's anguish

Ch 14 - Total Eclipse of the Heart

Ch 15 - To Mend a Broken Heart

Ch 16 - Succession

Ch 17 - To Become One

To be continued...

Depictions of Daena

Pt 1/ Pt 2 / Pt 3

Pt 4 / Pt 5 / Pt 6

Pt 7 / Pt 8 / Pt 9

Pt 10 / Pt 11

Secondary characters

Lady Amanda Royce

Ladies Joy and Hanna Strong

Lady Rowena Redfort

Rowena's reaction to Rhea's death

Daena's outfits

Pt 1

Pt 2

Headcanons

Daena's style

How Vermithor bonded to Daena

Daena's style during mourning

[marsi-is-depressed]

Finding a Family series. Chapter 10: She has a daughter?

The reader finds a baby in the woods

The night was cloaked in a quiet stillness, the kind that amplified the faintest of sounds. The reader ventured out under the cover of darkness, the dire wolf and Caraxes both left behind, much to their visible displeasure. This was her time—time to roam the common parts of Westeros without the weight of expectation or constant eyes watching her. She walked briskly, keeping to the shadows, her steps soft against the uneven ground. The distant hum of insects and the occasional rustling of leaves were her only companions.

As she neared a clearing nestled between the trees, the faint cry of something caught her attention. It wasn’t the cry of an animal, yet it wasn’t quite human either—or so it seemed in her mind. Her heart clenched as the sound vaguely reminded her of Ember’s final cries. Compelled by curiosity and a gnawing sense of dread, she followed the sound, her steps quickening as the crying grew louder. She froze as the clearing opened up before her, moonlight casting a pale glow over a scene that made her blood run cold. A body lay slumped against the base of a large tree, lifeless and battered, cradling a small, squirming bundle. The cries grew louder as she approached cautiously, her hand instinctively reaching for the bundle.

A newborn.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the tiny, helpless baby wrapped in tattered cloth. Its cheeks were red from crying, and its little fists flailed against the air. The reader’s heart ached as she crouched down, gently prying the child from the lifeless arms of its mother. The baby quieted almost immediately, its cries turning to soft whimpers as she held it close, cradling it against her chest.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

The reader quickly swaddled the baby as best she could with the fabric she had, rocking it gently to soothe its remaining distress. Her mind raced with questions. Who had left the child here? Why? And why did she feel such a deep, almost instinctive need to protect it? Realizing she couldn’t linger in the clearing, she adjusted the baby in her arms and began the trek back to Dragonstone, her heart pounding as she thought about what she’d say to her parents—especially her father.

Arriving at the castle, she kept her steps quiet as she moved through the halls. The baby had fallen asleep, its tiny head resting against her shoulder. She felt a strange mix of calm and urgency as she made her way to her father’s chambers. Reaching the heavy wooden door, she hesitated for a moment before knocking softly.

“Come in,” came Daemon’s voice, groggy but alert.

She pushed the door open, stepping inside with the sleeping baby still cradled in her arms. Daemon, seated by the fire with a goblet of wine in hand, immediately straightened when he saw her. His eyes flicked to the bundle in her arms, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. “What’s this?” he asked, setting the goblet aside and rising to his feet.

The reader walked over to him, her movements deliberate as she carefully unwrapped the cloth to reveal the baby’s face. “I found them,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Out in the forest. Their mother… she was gone. Dead.”

Daemon stared at the child for a long moment, his face unreadable. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against the baby’s soft cheek before looking back at his daughter. “And you brought it here?” he asked, though his tone wasn’t accusatory. It was curious, perhaps even a bit awed.

“I couldn’t leave them there,” she said firmly. “They were alone. They needed someone.”

Daemon’s lips pressed into a thin line as he studied her, his gaze softening. He could see the fire in her eyes, the fierce protectiveness that mirrored his own when it came to her. “You did the right thing,” he said finally, his voice low. “But this… this will raise questions.”

“I don’t care,” she replied, her grip tightening around the baby. “They’re mine now. I’ll take care of them.”

Daemon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re stubborn, just like your mother,” he said, though his tone was laced with affection. “And you have my heart, my brave little dragon.”

At that moment, the baby stirred, letting out a tiny whimper. Daemon reached out again, this time holding his arms open. “Here,” he said, his voice gentle. “Let me hold them.”

The reader hesitated for a brief second before carefully passing the baby to her father. Daemon cradled the child with surprising ease, his expression softening as he looked down at the tiny face.

“Strong little thing,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“What will we tell Mother?” the reader asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Daemon looked up at her, his smile widening. “Leave that to me,” he said. “You’ve already done enough for one night. Get some rest. I’ll take care of the rest.”

The reader nodded, her exhaustion finally catching up to her as she watched her father hold the baby. For the first time in what felt like days, she felt a sense of calm. She had done something good, something right. And with her father by her side, she knew they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As she turned to leave, she glanced back one last time. Daemon was still holding the baby, his gaze full of warmth and pride. It was a sight she’d never forget, one that made her feel stronger, braver, and more capable than ever before.

The following morning, Rhaenyra entered the chamber where Daemon and their daughter had spent much of the night with the newborn. Her expression was one of mixed confusion and concern as she laid eyes on the tiny bundle in Daemon’s arms.

"Whose baby is that?" she asked, her voice sharp and demanding. Her gaze shifted between Daemon and their daughter, trying to make sense of the scene.

Daemon, calm as ever, gestured toward the reader. "It’s hers now," he said simply. "She found the baby in the forest, abandoned and alone. She saved her life. Now, she’s made it clear that she won’t leave the child’s side.”

Rhaenyra blinked, momentarily speechless. She turned to her daughter, whose protective stance over the child left no room for argument. "You... plan to keep this child?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

"Yes," the reader replied firmly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if daring anyone to object. "She has no one else. I’ll take care of her."

Rhaenyra looked at her husband, searching his face for some sign of opposition, but Daemon merely shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "She’s a Targaryen through and through," he said, pride evident in his voice. "Stubborn and determined. There’s no talking her out of this."

Rhaenyra sighed, clearly torn. While she admired her daughter’s fierce loyalty and protective nature, she couldn’t help but worry about the burden such a responsibility would bring. But she also knew there was no arguing with her family once their minds were made up.

The next day, the reader took the baby from her father, her heart swelling with warmth as she looked down at the little girl’s tiny face. She decided it was time for the child to meet the creatures who had become her closest companions. Wrapping the baby securely in a soft blanket, she set out with a sense of purpose.

Her first stop was Caraxes, who lay basking in the morning sun. The red dragon lifted his massive head at her approach, his sharp eyes softening when he saw the bundle in her arms. The reader stepped closer, carefully unwrapping the baby just enough for Caraxes to see her.

“This is Rowena,” the reader said softly, the name having come to her in a moment of clarity the night before. “She’s part of our family now.”

Caraxes sniffed the baby curiously, his hot breath ruffling the child’s blanket. The baby let out a tiny coo, and to the reader’s delight, Caraxes lowered his head, letting out a gentle rumble as if welcoming Rowena into their strange little circle.

Next, the reader introduced Rowena to the direwolf, who had been lounging near the great hall. The wolf’s ears perked up as the reader approached, its sharp eyes immediately fixating on the small bundle. The reader knelt down, allowing the wolf to get a closer look. The direwolf sniffed the baby cautiously before letting out a low, approving whine. With a wag of its tail, the wolf seemed to accept

Rowena without question.

Finally, the reader made her way to the cliffs, where the giant squid often lingered near the water’s edge. She approached carefully, holding Rowena securely in her arms. The sea was calm, and as if sensing her presence, the squid’s bright orange eyes appeared just below the surface. Slowly, a single tentacle rose from the water, reaching toward them. The reader held her breath as the tentacle brushed gently against Rowena’s blanket. The squid seemed to examine the child with a surprising amount of care, its movements slow and deliberate. When the baby let out a tiny giggle, the reader couldn’t help but smile. The squid let out a soft, resonant hum, its tentacle retreating back into the water after a final, gentle touch.

Later that day, the reader sat in her chambers, cradling Rowena as she prepared to feed her. Daemon entered, watching silently for a moment before clearing his throat. "You should give her to a wet nurse," he suggested, his tone neutral but firm. "It’s how things are done. She’ll need proper nourishment."

The reader shook her head stubbornly, holding Rowena closer. "I’ll feed her myself," she replied. "She’s my responsibility, and I want to take care of her. I’ll find a way."

Daemon frowned, crossing his arms. "And how do you intend to do that? She can’t survive on stubbornness alone."

The reader sighed, setting Rowena down in a small makeshift cradle she’d prepared. She fetched a small bowl of cow’s milk and a spoon, determined to make it work. Sitting back down, she carefully spoon-fed the baby, her movements slow and deliberate to ensure Rowena didn’t choke.

To her relief, the baby took to the milk, her tiny hands clutching at the blanket as she drank. The reader smiled, a sense of pride welling up inside her. "See?" she said, glancing up at her father. "I can do this."

Daemon watched her for a long moment, his stern expression softening. He walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You’re more like me than I realized," he said quietly. "And that’s both a blessing and a curse."

The reader looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. "She’s mine, Father," she said. "And I love her."

Daemon nodded, his hand lingering on her shoulder. "Then you’ll have my support," he said. "But know this—raising a child is no easy task. You’ll need more than just love. You’ll need strength, patience, and a willingness to make sacrifices."

The reader nodded, her gaze never leaving Rowena’s tiny, peaceful face. "I’ll do whatever it takes," she said firmly. "She’s worth it."

Daemon smiled faintly, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. He could see the fierce love and determination in his daughter’s eyes, and he knew that Rowena was in good hands. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as a family.

The night was still, the castle bathed in the pale light of the moon. The reader woke to the sound of soft, plaintive cries filling her chambers. Instantly alert, she moved to the cradle where Rowena lay, her tiny face scrunched in distress.

“It’s alright, sweet one,” the reader murmured, lifting the baby into her arms. She swayed gently, humming a lullaby, but the baby continued to fuss. Deciding a change of scenery might help, she wrapped Rowena in a warm blanket and stepped out into the quiet halls of the castle.

The walk was peaceful, the soft echoes of her footsteps the only sound aside from Rowena’s occasional whimpers. The reader found herself wandering toward the dragon pit, drawn to the comforting presence of Caraxes. When she arrived, the massive red dragon lifted his head, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He rumbled a low, welcoming sound, his tail curling closer as if to shield her from the cool night air.

“Hello, Caraxes,” the reader said softly, stepping closer. She settled onto the ground near his side, resting her back against his warm scales. Rowena, soothed by the dragon’s presence, let out a soft sigh and drifted back to sleep in her arms.

The reader gazed down at the baby, her expression a mix of love and uncertainty. She gently adjusted the blanket around Rowena, ensuring she was snug and warm. Then, with a heavy sigh, she looked up at Caraxes.

“Am I doing this right?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Am I a good mother?”

The dragon tilted his head slightly, as if he understood her question. He let out a low, resonant hum, the sound vibrating through the ground beneath her. The reader smiled faintly, taking the sound as reassurance.

“It’s hard sometimes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I love her so much, but I keep wondering... will I be enough for her? Can I protect her the way she deserves? She’s already been through so much, and she doesn’t even know it.”

Caraxes shifted slightly, his massive body curling closer around her in a gesture of comfort. The reader leaned into him, drawing strength from his presence. She looked down at Rowena, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and determination.

In the distance, hidden in the shadows, Daemon and Rhaenyra watched the scene unfold. They had woken to find their daughter’s chambers empty and had followed her tracks out of concern. Now, as they stood together, observing her with Caraxes and Rowena, they felt their hearts swell with pride.

“She’s remarkable,” Rhaenyra whispered, her eyes glistening with emotion. “I always worried about her—about how she’d handle the expectations placed on her. But look at her. She’s doing this her way, and she’s thriving.”

Daemon nodded, a rare, soft smile crossing his lips. “She’s strong,” he said. “And stubborn as hell. She didn’t need a husband to step in and do this for her. She’s proving that every day.”

Rhaenyra rested her head against Daemon’s shoulder, her smile matching his. “It seems she didn’t need a husband after all,” she said softly.

Daemon chuckled, pride evident in his voice. “No, she didn’t. She’s Targaryen through and through. Fierce, independent, and capable of anything.”

As they stood together, watching their daughter and her makeshift family of dragon, direwolf, squid, and now Rowena, they felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Their daughter was carving her own path, one filled with love, courage, and determination. And they couldn’t have been prouder.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was beginning its slow descent when the reader found herself returning to the clearing where she had first discovered Rowena. The air was cool, carrying with it the faint rustle of leaves and the scent of wildflowers. She approached the spot cautiously, her heart heavy with unspoken gratitude and sadness. The body of the woman who had cradled Rowena in her final moments was no longer visible beneath the soft blanket of nature. Grass and wildflowers had grown around her resting place, creating a serene, almost sacred atmosphere. The reader paused, marvelling at how life had embraced death in such a tender way. Kneeling down, she reached out a hand to touch the flowers, intending to pay her respects. Just as her fingers brushed a delicate petal, a rustling sound from nearby startled her. She froze, her head snapping up to see a stag stepping gracefully into the clearing.

The animal was magnificent—its coat sleek and shimmering in the dappled sunlight, antlers reaching skyward like the branches of a great tree. It seemed to regard her curiously, its dark eyes calm and intelligent.

Uncertain at first, the reader rose slowly and, remembering stories of old Valyria, offered a respectful bow. To her surprise, the stag lowered its regal head in return, as if acknowledging her gesture. A soft laugh escaped her lips, the moment so unexpected yet oddly comforting.

“You’ve been watching over her, haven’t you?” she murmured, stepping closer. The stag didn’t move, standing still as she reached out to touch its warm, smooth coat. Its body radiated a comforting heat, and she felt an overwhelming sense of peace as her fingers traced along its fur.

“Thank you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around its neck in an impulsive hug. “Thank you for keeping her safe until I could find her. She gave me Rowena, and I won’t ever forget her sacrifice.”

The stag remained still, almost as if it understood her words. When she stepped back to leave, she felt the weight of its gaze on her. As she walked toward the edge of the clearing, the soft sound of hooves followed behind her. She turned to see the sandy-coloured stag trailing her, its serene demeanour unshaken.

“Are you coming with me?” she asked, smiling faintly. The stag flicked its ears, as if in affirmation. “Alright then. Another friend, I suppose.”

By the time she reached the castle, twilight had begun to paint the sky in shades of gold and purple. The stag still followed her, stopping only when she entered the gates. Its calm presence gave her a strange sense of reassurance, as though it were a guardian sent by the gods.

Inside, Rhaenyra stood at her window, as she gazed out at the grounds below. When her eyes caught sight of her daughter returning, followed by the elegant stag, she laughed in disbelief.

“Daemon!” she called, still chuckling as she motioned for him to join her. “Come see this!”

Daemon entered the room, Rowena cradled protectively against his chest. “What is it now?” he asked, only to stop short when his gaze followed Rhaenyra’s pointing finger. His brow rose in amusement as he spotted the stag standing just beyond the gates, its regal form perfectly silhouetted against the evening light.

Shaking his head with a soft laugh, he looked down at the baby in his arms. “Rowena,” he said with a smirk, “it looks like you have another friend.”

Rhaenyra leaned against him, a smile playing on her lips. “Our daughter seems to have a gift for collecting the extraordinary.”

Daemon nodded, his expression softening. “That she does.”

As the stag settled itself outside, content to remain near the castle, the family watched with quiet wonder. The reader, unaware of their observation, turned back to the stag one last time, offering a small nod of gratitude before stepping inside to check on her baby.

The presence of the stag, like all her newfound companions, was yet another testament to her unique connection with the world around her—a bond forged by compassion, courage, and the strength to embrace the unknown. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The grand dining hall was filled with the hum of voices, the clinking of goblets, and the scraping of silverware against plates. The entire Targaryen family was gathered once again for what should have been a peaceful dinner. The reader, seated beside her father Daemon, was mostly silent, trying to focus on her meal and avoid the glares and whispers she often felt from certain family members. The dire wolf lay quietly at her feet, its large head resting against her knee for comfort, while the stag had stationed itself just outside the hall’s open balcony, its presence still a topic of awe and confusion for the others.

But peace was never guaranteed at a Targaryen dinner.

Aemond’s sharp voice cut through the chatter like a blade. “It’s truly remarkable how you’ve surrounded yourself with beasts, cousin,” he said with a sneer, looking directly at her. “A dragon, a wolf, a stag—and now I hear whispers of some mythical sea creature you call a friend. It’s almost as though you’re collecting animals because you can’t connect with people.”

The reader tensed but didn’t look up, choosing instead to cut her food into smaller and smaller pieces. Daemon, seated beside her, narrowed his eyes at Aemond but held his tongue for now, his hand resting protectively on the arm of his chair.

Aemond wasn’t done. “Tell me, cousin,” he continued, leaning forward with a mocking smile, “is this your grand plan? To live out your days surrounded by animals, so you can avoid the inevitable truth?

That you’ll die alone, just like the beasts you seem so fond of?”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to slice with a blade. All eyes turned to the reader, some filled with curiosity, others with pity.

She opened her mouth to respond, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt, but before she could say a word, a faint cry echoed through the castle halls. Rowena.

The reader’s heart leapt in panic as she immediately pushed back her chair, the direwolf standing to follow her as she bolted from the room. She didn’t bother excusing herself properly, her sole focus on the baby.

The sound of her hurried footsteps faded, leaving the dining hall in stunned silence.

Aemond smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “What was that noise?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

Daemon’s chair screeched as he stood abruptly, his expression one of barely restrained fury. “Careful, boy,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Rhaenyra, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up, her tone sharp. “That cry,” she said, her gaze fixed firmly on Aemond, “was her daughter.”

The collective gasp that rippled through the room was nearly deafening.

“Her what?” Alicent exclaimed, her voice incredulous.

“She found a child,” Rhaenyra continued, her voice steady despite the surprise around her. “A baby girl. She’s named her Rowena, and she is her daughter now. Aemond,” she added, her eyes narrowing, “you would do well to remember that when you speak about her life.”

Back in her chambers, the reader burst through the door, breathless and worried. Rowena’s cries filled the air, frantic and piercing, and the reader quickly crossed the room to the crib. The dire wolf followed closely, sniffing the baby protectively before lying down nearby.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the reader cooed, scooping Rowena into her arms and cradling her gently. “What’s the matter? Did something scare you?”

As she rocked the baby, whispering soothing words, Rowena’s cries began to subside. The reader kissed the top of her head, marveling at how small and fragile she seemed in her arms.

And then it happened.

“Mama,” Rowena said, her tiny voice soft but unmistakable.

The reader froze, her eyes wide with shock. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it, but then Rowena’s lips moved again, repeating the word as she reached out a tiny hand to touch her mother’s face.

“Mama.”

The reader’s heart swelled, tears springing to her eyes as she smiled down at the baby. “Well done, you clever girl,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “You said your first word!”

She kissed Rowena’s cheek, holding her close as joy replaced the hurt and frustration that Aemond’s words had stirred in her earlier.

Meanwhile, back at the dining hall, the room was buzzing with murmurs as the family digested the revelation about Rowena.

“How does your daughter have a baby?” Alicent demanded, her voice laced with confusion and judgment. “Who is the father?”

“There is no father,” Daemon replied bluntly, his tone daring anyone to question further. “She found the baby abandoned and brought her home. She has taken on the responsibility of raising her, and as far as I’m concerned, Rowena is as much a Targaryen as any of us.”

Aemond scoffed, his jealousy and bitterness still simmering beneath the surface. “So, she’s playing mother to a child that isn’t hers? How noble. Perhaps she should focus on herself before pretending to be fit for such a role.”

Daemon’s hand slammed against the table, the sound reverberating through the hall. “Say another word about my daughter, Aemond, and I’ll show you what it means to cross a dragon.”

Rhaenyra placed a calming hand on her husband’s arm, though her own patience was clearly wearing thin. “Enough,” she said firmly, silencing the room. “We will not discuss this further. Rowena is family, and that is the end of it.”

As the dinner continued in strained silence, the reader sat in her room, Rowena now sound asleep in her arms. The direwolf watched over them both, its golden eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

The reader couldn’t help but think about Aemond’s words, how they had cut so deeply despite her best efforts to ignore them. But as she looked down at Rowena, her heart swelled with love and determination.

“I’m not alone,” she whispered to herself, pressing a kiss to Rowena’s forehead. “And I never will be.”

The dining hall was still a flurry of murmurs and whispered conversations when the reader reentered, cradling Rowena in her arms. The baby, now calm and content, nestled against her chest, her tiny hand gripping the fabric of her mother's dress. The direwolf followed closely behind, its quiet but commanding presence silencing anyone who dared to whisper too loudly.

As she approached the table, all eyes turned to her. The once-familiar stares of judgment and curiosity were now mixed with something else—shock, disbelief, and for a few, a hint of admiration. She held her head high, ignoring the tension as she took her place between her parents, Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Rowena, seemingly unaware of the heavy atmosphere, lifted her head slightly, her big, curious eyes locking onto Daemon. A wide, toothless smile broke across her face, and she let out a delighted giggle, reaching her small hand toward her grandfather.

Daemon, who had been wearing his usual stern expression, softened instantly. A rare smile spread across his lips as he reached out a finger for Rowena to grab, her tiny fingers wrapping tightly around his. “Well, aren’t you a charmer,” he said, his voice low but warm.

Before anyone could comment, Rowena suddenly turned her head and waved a small hand in Aemond’s direction. The gesture was innocent and childlike, but it immediately drew the attention of the entire table. Aemond’s expression shifted from his usual cool indifference to something closer to unease, as if he wasn’t sure how to react. Alicent, seated beside him, looked equally startled.

“Even the baby is more courteous than her mother,” Aemond muttered under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Daemon.

“Enough,” Rhaenyra snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Alicent, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, cleared her throat and asked, “And what of the mother, dear? You said you found her. What happened to her?”

The reader hesitated, her fingers brushing over Rowena’s soft curls as she gathered her thoughts. “The mother was… gone when I found her,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the somber memory. “She was lying in a clearing, and the grass and flowers had grown over her. It was as if the earth had claimed her, wrapping her in beauty. It was… peaceful.”

The table fell silent at her words, the vivid imagery leaving a mark on everyone present. Even Alicent, who was often quick to judge, looked contemplative. Rowena shifted in the reader’s arms, her small hand clutching at the fabric of her mother’s dress as she let out a small, sleepy mumble. The reader glanced down, brushing a gentle hand over the baby’s cheek. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked softly.

Rowena’s head tilted upward, her drowsy eyes meeting her mother’s. Then, clear as day, she mumbled, “Mama.”

The reader froze agin still suprised when hearing her speak, her small voice a mixture of tiredness and affection. “Mama.”

The room collectively held its breath.

Rhaenyra’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with astonishment. Daemon, equally stunned, looked between his daughter and the baby, his expression softening into something uncharacteristically tender.

“She spoke,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice trembling. “Her first word…”

She pressed a kiss to Rowena’s forehead, holding her close. “Well done, my clever girl,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re so smart.”

The baby nestled against her mother’s chest again, her tiny fingers gripping the edge of the reader’s dress as her eyes fluttered closed, clearly worn out from the excitement.

At the table, the reactions varied. Rhaenyra’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, her heart full of pride for both her daughter and her granddaughter. Daemon, though outwardly composed, couldn’t hide the pride and protectiveness radiating from him. Alicent, on the other hand, looked conflicted, her lips pressed into a thin line as if she was wrestling with her feelings. Aemond remained stoic, though his jaw tightened at the sight of the tender family moment.

“I suppose that settles it,” Daemon said after a moment, his voice breaking the silence. “Rowena is family, through and through. There’s no questioning it now.”

Rhaenyra nodded, her hand resting on her daughter’s shoulder. “She’s one of us,” she said firmly. “A Targaryen in every way that matters.”

The reader smiled softly, her gaze fixed on Rowena’s peaceful face. Despite the tension and challenges she had faced, this moment made it all worthwhile. Her daughter’s first word was proof that she was doing something right, that the love she poured into Rowena was making a difference.

The direwolf, sensing the calm that had settled over its mistress, rested its head on the floor beside her chair. The stag, though still lingering outside, stood tall and vigilant, its presence a silent reassurance.

As the meal slowly resumed, the reader stayed seated, her focus entirely on Rowena. The weight of Aemond’s earlier words still lingered, but they felt distant now, overshadowed by the love and support surrounding her.

Daemon leaned over, his voice low enough that only his daughter could hear. “You’re doing well, little one,” he said, his tone filled with pride. “Don’t let anyone make you doubt that.”

The reader looked up at him, her eyes glistening with gratitude. “Thank you, father,” she whispered.

As the evening unfolded, the reader gently handed Rowena to her father, Daemon, who took the baby with surprising ease. His movements were tender, a far cry from his usual fiery demeanour.

Rowena’s small hands immediately reached up to his face, exploring the strands of his silver-white hair, tugging them with curious fingers. Daemon chuckled softly, a sound that was rare and cherished.

“You’ve taken a liking to my hair, haven’t you, little one?” Daemon murmured, cradling Rowena closer. The baby giggled, her head resting against his neck as she continued her playful exploration.

The reader sat back, her gaze fixated on the scene before her. Watching her father interact with her daughter filled her heart with a warmth she couldn’t quite put into words. Daemon, so fierce and untamed in most circumstances, held Rowena with the gentleness of a man entirely smitten.

Rowena eventually shifted, her tiny body moving to sit on Daemon’s lap. Her big, curious eyes darted around the room, taking in the faces of the Targaryen family members seated at the table. When her gaze landed on Aemond, the room seemed to hold its breath.

The baby and her second cousin locked eyes, both wearing expressions far too serious for such a small child. It was as if they were engaging in a silent battle of wills, a staring contest that neither seemed inclined to lose. The reader bit back a smile, her eyes darting between the two.

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, Rowena stuck out her tiny tongue at Aemond, the playful gesture utterly unexpected. The room erupted into soft laughter, and even Daemon let out an amused chuckle.

To everyone’s astonishment, Aemond’s stoic facade cracked for a fleeting moment. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in what could only be described as a reluctant smile. The reader’s eyes widened, and her astonishment must have been palpable because Aemond immediately schooled his expression back to its usual detached demeanour. His single eye darted to the reader, and when he noticed her, along with the stag and direwolf silently watching him from the corner of the room, his jaw tightened.

The reader arched a brow at him, her amusement evident. “Did you just smile at my daughter, Aemond?” she asked, her tone teasing but warm.

Aemond huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did no such thing,” he said curtly, though his ears reddened slightly, betraying his embarrassment.

Daemon, still holding Rowena, smirked at Aemond’s discomfort. “Admit it, brother. You’re smitten with the little dragon.”

“I am not,” Aemond retorted sharply, though his gaze flicked back to Rowena, who was now babbling and clapping her hands on Daemon’s chest.

The baby’s antics seemed to diffuse the tension in the room, her innocent joy infectious. The direwolf, sensing the calm, padded closer and lay down at the reader’s feet, its watchful eyes fixed on Rowena. The stag, still standing by the window, observed with quiet dignity, its presence a reminder of the unusual but undeniable bond the reader shared with her growing family of creatures.

As Rowena continued to babble and explore her surroundings from her perch on Daemon’s lap, the reader couldn’t help but marvel at how naturally her father had taken to being a grandfather. His gruff exterior melted away in Rowena’s presence, replaced by a side of him the reader rarely got to see.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, haven’t you, my clever girl?” the reader said softly, leaning forward to brush a stray curl from Rowena’s forehead. The baby responded with a delighted coo, her small hand reaching out to grab her mother’s fingers.

Daemon glanced at his daughter, a rare softness in his gaze. “She takes after you,” he said, his tone carrying both pride and affection. “Strong-willed and utterly unyielding.”

The reader smiled, her heart swelling with love for both her father and her daughter. Despite the challenges and the constant pushback from certain family members, moments like this reminded her that she had created something beautiful, something worth protecting.

As Rowena shifted her attention back to Aemond, the reader leaned back in her chair, watching the silent exchange between her daughter and her uncle. She couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for her little girl, but one thing was certain: Rowena was already leaving an indelible mark on everyone around her.

Even on Aemond, whether he wanted to admit it or not

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The moon cast its soft glow over the gardens as the reader carried a fussing Rowena in her arms. The baby's cries were growing louder, and the reader gently rocked her, humming a lullaby under her breath. The large stag followed silently, its regal form illuminated by the pale light, and the reader glanced at it with curiosity.

“Do you think she’s drawn to you?” she asked quietly, almost as if speaking to herself. “Or is it me? Either way, I think you might mean something to her, old friend.”

Rowena’s cries softened as they reached a quieter spot by the cliffs. The stag lowered itself to the ground nearby, its watchful eyes fixed on the mother and child. The reader let out a small sigh, grateful for the calm. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder, her sharp gaze cutting through the shadows, and her suspicion was confirmed when

Aemond stepped into view.

“Are you following me again, Aemond?” she asked, her voice tinged with annoyance. She adjusted Rowena in her arms, shielding the baby from the cool night air. “I don’t have time for your comments tonight.”

Aemond tilted his head, his single eye gleaming in the moonlight. “You misunderstand me,” he said smoothly, his hands clasped behind his back. “I only wish to speak with you.”

“I doubt you have anything to say that I want to hear,” the reader replied curtly, turning away from him and walking further toward the cliffside.

Aemond’s footsteps followed close behind. “I mean no harm to you or the child,” he said, his voice steady. “But surely you can see that this... arrangement is unusual. You carry a baby not your own, one you found under circumstances that would raise questions. You cannot expect the rest of the family—or the court—to accept this so easily.”

The reader stopped in her tracks, spinning around to face him. Rowena stirred in her arms, letting out a soft whimper as if sensing her mother’s irritation. “I don’t care what you—or anyone else—think,” she said sharply. “This baby is mine now, and no one will take her from me.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “Even if it invites danger? Even if it puts a target on your back?”

The reader narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening protectively around Rowena. “I’d rather die protecting her than live a life dictated by fear and judgment,” she snapped. “If you have nothing helpful to say, leave us alone.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the cliffs, seeking the one place where she felt truly at peace: the sea. She knew the kraken would come if she called, and tonight, she needed its calming presence more than ever.

As she reached the edge of the cliffs, she looked down at the dark waves crashing below. The stag stood a short distance behind her, its antlers gleaming in the moonlight. Rowena was quiet now, her small hand clutching at the reader’s dress as if seeking comfort. The reader took a deep breath and murmured softly, “Come to me, old friend.”

The water rippled unnaturally, and moments later, the familiar orange tentacles emerged, followed by the Kraken’s massive head. The creature’s glowing eyes locked onto her, its presence both imposing and strangely comforting. Rowena let out a delighted coo, reaching a tiny hand toward the Kraken as if recognizing it. The kraken responded by lifting a tentacle gently toward them, its movements slow and deliberate.

Behind her, Aemond stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape as he watched the massive sea creature interact with the reader and the baby. “Seven hells,” he muttered under his breath.

Unbeknownst to Aemond, Daemon was not far behind. The moment he had noticed the reader’s empty seat at dinner, he had excused himself from the table. After a brief conversation with Rhaenyra, they both realized Aemond’s absence as well and exchanged a knowing glance. It didn’t take long for Daemon to follow the trail of his daughter, his instinct sharp and unerring.

When he arrived at the cliffs, his breath hitched at the sight before him. His daughter stood confidently at the edge, holding Rowena close while the kraken loomed in the water below. The stag stood nearby like a sentinel, and Aemond was to the side, his expression torn between shock and something like awe.

Daemon’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. “Step away from the edge, both of you,” he called out, his voice firm but laced with concern.

The reader turned, her face softening when she saw her father. “We’re fine, Father,” she assured him. “The Kraken wouldn’t hurt us.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his gaze flicking to Aemond with a hint of suspicion. “And what are you doing here?” he asked sharply.

Aemond straightened, his usual confidence returning. “I was merely ensuring your daughter wasn’t putting herself—or the child—in harm’s way.”

Daemon scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk. “How noble of you,” he said sarcastically, before turning his full attention to the reader. “You should’ve told me where you were going. You scared your mother half to death.”

“I needed some air,” the reader replied, her tone defensive but not unkind. She glanced back at the kraken, which had retreated slightly but still lingered near the surface. “I needed to see it again. It... calms me.”

Daemon’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I understand,” he said quietly. “But next time, don’t go alone. You’re not the only one who loves that little girl. We’re a family now, and we protect each other.”

Rowena chose that moment to let out a happy squeal as if agreeing with her grandfather. Daemon chuckled, reaching out to take her from the reader’s arms. “Come here, little dragon,” he murmured, cradling the baby against his chest. “You’re far too young for these late-night adventures.”

The reader smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude for her father’s unwavering support. Even as she faced the challenges of her unconventional life, she knew she could always count on him to stand by her side.

As the family made their way back to the castle, the stag followed at a respectful distance, its silent presence a reminder of the strange but undeniable bond that had formed between them. And though

Aemond trailed behind, his thoughts remained conflicted, his gaze lingering on the kraken’s glowing eyes as they disappeared beneath the waves.

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The day was calm, with the soft golden light of the afternoon casting a serene glow across the landscape. The reader had set out once again, the loyal stag and direwolf following close behind. This time, she was determined to find more information about Rowena’s origins, to piece together the fragments of the life the baby had been torn from. The spot where she had found Rowena was overgrown with grass and wildflowers, a quiet and somber beauty.

The reader knelt by the spot, her fingers brushing the petals of a wildflower as she whispered, “I’m sorry you had to go this way. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

The stag stood silently nearby, its antlers shining in the light, while the direwolf sniffed the air, ever alert. The reader moved to explore further, her boots sinking slightly into the soft ground as she made her way through the glade. She paused at the crest of a hill, scanning the area for any signs of human presence, but the landscape stretched on, untouched. Just as she turned to move downhill, her foot caught on a loose patch of grass.

She stumbled and let out a surprised yelp, tumbling forward. The hill was steep, and she rolled down awkwardly, landing in a heap at the bottom. Groaning, she pushed herself up, brushing dirt and blades of grass from her dress. The dire wolf had already made its way down, sniffing her as if to ensure she was unharmed, while the stag remained at the top, watching her descent with its usual serene gaze.

“Of course, I had to fall,” she muttered, shaking her head. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, then froze as something in the distance caught her eye—a small cottage, nestled in the trees.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Is this where you lived?” she whispered, more to herself than to her companions. With a sense of foreboding, she walked toward the cottage, the direwolf padding silently by her side.

When she reached the door, it creaked loudly as she pushed it open. The air inside was stale, carrying the unmistakable scent of death. The sight that greeted her made her breath hitch. Two more bodies lay inside—a man slumped over the table and a small child curled up near the hearth, their presence a grim testament to tragedy.

The reader pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting back tears. She took a shaky step forward, her gaze scanning the room. The cottage was humble but had the clear marks of a family life once lived: a simple wooden table, worn chairs, a hand-carved crib in the corner.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers brushed over the table’s surface, lingering on a small wooden carving that had been left there. It was shaped like a stag, its edges smoothed from wear. She picked it up, a lump forming in her throat.

“Rowena will love this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll make sure she knows it came from you.”

She searched the cottage for anything else that might hold meaning—a blanket, a keepsake—but most of the belongings had been too worn or ruined to salvage. Clutching the wooden stag, she stepped outside, the weight of the family’s loss pressing heavily on her chest. The stag was waiting for her by the door, its calm presence a strange comfort.

When she arrived back at the castle, the sun was beginning to set. Daemon was outside, holding Rowena in his arms as he paced the courtyard. The baby was cooing softly, one tiny hand reaching for his long, white hair. When he saw the reader approaching, his eyes widened in alarm.

“What the hell happened to you?” he demanded, his tone sharp with worry. “You look like you’ve been wrestling boars.”

The reader glanced down at herself, realizing how dishevelled she must have appeared—her dress was wrinkled and dirt-streaked, her hair a tangled mess. She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said lightly. “I just fell down a hill.”

Daemon narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. “You’re not usually this careless. What were you doing out there?”

“I was looking for answers,” she admitted, holding up the small wooden white stag, different to the one behind her. “I found the cottage where Rowena’s family lived. It was... hard to see, but I found this. I think it might have been hers.”

Daemon’s expression softened as he looked at the carved toy. Rowena, as if sensing the moment, reached out her tiny hands toward the object. Daemon carefully placed it in her grasp, and the baby immediately brought it to her mouth, gnawing on it with a toothless grin.

The reader couldn’t help but smile. “She likes it,” she said quietly.

Daemon studied his daughter’s face, his gaze flicking to the stag and the dire wolf that stood nearby, ever faithful. “You’ve taken on a great deal of responsibility,” he said, his voice tinged with pride.

“More than most would.”

The reader looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. “She deserves it,” she said simply. “She deserves a family that loves her.”

“You’ve given her that,” Daemon said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “And you’ve reminded me what it means to protect what we love.”

Rowena giggled, clutching the wooden stag tightly in her small hands, and the reader felt a sense of peace settle over her. Despite the hardships and the unanswered questions, she knew they were building something beautiful—a life worth fighting for.

[midnight--sadness]

i love the way that a dragon's coloring is sometimes connected to its rider's family.

meraxes had silver scales and was ridden by rhaenys. rhaenys' son aenys had a dragon named quicksilver, and though we don't know her coloring, given her name and her pale white fire, it is probably silver as well. aenys' daughter alysanne had silverwing, described as a silvery dragon.

three generations of rulers who had silver she-dragons.

jaehaerys i rode vermithor, the bronze fury, and his son baelon the brave rode vhagar, who was described as bronze.

aemon and alyssa, brother and sister, both rode red dragons, caraxes and meleys, respectively.

rhaenyra has the yellow-gold syrax, and her son lucerys who rides arrax, described as having yellow fire and gold eyes and crest.

(could even connect this to aegon ii's sunfyre, who is golden and has pink membranes, matching to rhaenys' meleys and rhaena's morning, who is fully pink.)

helaena and daeron, also brother and sister, rode dreamfyre and tessarion, both blue dragons (although in different shades).

although we dont know his coloring, stormcloud, based on his name, was probably (dark) grey, which would match with the (light) grey color of seasmoke, who belonged to laenor, aegon iii's stepfather.

and of course, there is the connection between the conquerors' dragons balerion, meraxes and vhagar with dany's children drogon, viserion and rhaegal.

[sunnysideaeggs]

one of the worst things of the race bend of the velaryons, once again: a black show character getting a worse treatment than their white book counterpart. book rhaena going to the vale as a cherished and welcomed ward, living in comfort and enjoyment. show rhaena? well, she gets some eggs and her stepmother’s kids to take care of. a nanny. a nanny of white children. while she’s a kid herself. i can’t