#house targaryen

[nightwatchhboy]

My sweet dragon , Targs don't deserve them.

Sunfyre moved his wing to shield Aegon from Vhagar's fire.

He landed on his wounded belly, which means even though he fell out of the sky backwards, he angled his body to avoid crushing Aegon.

Eventually, when Aemond found him, he curled up around his rider.

[moonlight-joy]

The Rogue’s Flame

Fandom: House of Dragon

Summary: You are the daughter of Otto Hightower, sworn to the Greens. But your heart has always belonged to Daemon. As the war rages on, you find yourself torn between family loyalty and love.

Pairing: Reader/Daemon Targaryen

The air smelled of smoke and blood. War had come to Westeros, and the realm was drowning in fire and steel. The Dance of Dragons raged across the land, tearing apart houses, families, and hearts alike. You stood at the window of your chamber in the Red Keep, watching the flames of the city flicker against the darkened sky. The war had reached every corner of the realm, and yet your heart burned with a different kind of fire—one that had been forbidden from the very beginning.

Daemon Targaryen.

The Rogue Prince. The man who had captured your heart despite everything. Despite your name. Despite the war.

You were the daughter of Otto Hightower, Hand of the King and the most loyal servant of the Greens. You had been raised to despise the Blacks, to see Rhaenyra and Daemon as traitors and usurpers. And yet, your heart had betrayed you long before the realm had descended into chaos.

It had started years ago, in secret meetings and stolen moments. Daemon had always been a dangerous man, a dragon in human form. But you had seen something more in him—something raw and untamed, something that mirrored the fire you felt burning inside yourself.

Now, that fire threatened to consume you.

The war had taken Daemon from you, and weeks had passed since you last saw him. Each day felt heavier than the last, the weight of your divided loyalties crushing you. You were a Hightower, sworn to your family and their cause. But your heart belonged to Daemon, and no amount of duty could change that.

One night, as the city slumbered under the shadow of war, you slipped away from the Red Keep. Cloaked in darkness, you made your way through the winding streets of King’s Landing, your destination clear in your mind.

Dragonstone.

The Blacks’ stronghold. The home of the man who held your heart.

It was a treacherous journey, but fear had no place in your heart. The only thing you feared was losing Daemon.

The shores of Dragonstone were dark and jagged, the waves crashing against the rocks with a fury that matched your own emotions. As you approached the castle, you were met by a guard who recognized you immediately.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice laced with suspicion. “The daughter of Otto Hightower… you’re the enemy.”

“I’m here to see Daemon,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “Let him know I’ve come.”

The guard hesitated, but eventually nodded. Moments later, you were led through the halls of Dragonstone, your heart pounding with each step. When you reached the chamber where Daemon waited, the guard opened the door and stepped aside.

You stepped inside, your breath catching in your throat as you saw him.

Daemon stood by the hearth, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

“You’re my enemy,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“And yet, you love me,” you replied, stepping closer.

Daemon’s gaze softened, and he closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. His hands cupped your face, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his palms. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. “Every day, I’ve missed you.”

Tears filled your eyes as you leaned into his touch. “I couldn’t stay away.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve risked everything to be here.”

“I would risk the world for you,” you whispered.

Daemon pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I’ll burn the realm for you if you ask it,” he said fiercely. “I’ll set fire to everything, if it means keeping you by my side.”

Your heart ached at his words, torn between love and duty. “I don’t want war, Daemon. I just want you.”

“Then stay,” he pleaded. “Stay with me. We’ll find a way.”

You nodded, knowing that you couldn’t bear to leave him again. “I’ll stay.”

Days passed, and for a time, you allowed yourself to believe that you could have a future with Daemon. The walls of Dragonstone became your sanctuary, a place where love could bloom even in the midst of war.

But the peace was short-lived.

A raven arrived from King’s Landing, bearing a message from your family. They knew where you were. They knew of your betrayal.

The letter was simple and cruel.

Return to Oldtown, or face the consequences.

You clutched the letter in trembling hands, your mind racing with fear and dread. You knew what your family was capable of. If you defied them, they would stop at nothing to see you punished.

Daemon found you in your chambers, his expression darkening as he saw the letter.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice tense.

You handed him the letter, unable to speak. He read it quickly, his jaw tightening with rage.

“They’ve found you,” he growled. “They want to take you from me.”

“Daemon…” you began, but he cut you off.

“No.” His eyes blazed with fury. “I won’t let them. I won’t lose you.”

“If I don’t go, they’ll come for me,” you said softly. “And they’ll come for you.”

“Let them come,” he said fiercely. “I’ll face them all.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you shook your head. “I can’t let you do that. I can’t let you burn the realm for me.”

Daemon’s expression softened, and he reached out to wipe away your tears. “I would burn the world for you. But if you want peace… if you want me to let you go, I will.”

Your heart broke at his words, knowing that he would sacrifice everything for you. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whispered. “But I can’t be the cause of more bloodshed.”

Daemon pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Then we’ll find another way. We’ll find a way to be together without destroying everything.”

You nodded, clinging to the hope that love could conquer even the darkest of times. But deep down, you knew that your choice would shape the fate of the realm.

The war raged on, and you remained at Daemon’s side. But the shadow of your family’s threat loomed over you, a constant reminder of the price you would pay for love.

In the end, love and war were two sides of the same coin—both capable of destruction, both capable of changing the world forever.

And as the flames of war continued to burn, you knew that your love for Daemon would be remembered long after the ashes had settled.

The Rogue’s Flame would never be extinguished.

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[wweskywalker]

“If the gods were kinder… would you wed me instead?”

Laena and Rhaenyra discussing Laena’s betrothal to the Braavosi sealord’s son and Nyra’s to Laenor :( I VOWED to make 2025 my year and I AM TRYINGGGGGG (literally crashed out multiple times doing multiple drawings) please save me…

[sephynne]

a quick redraw of my dragon twins piece

[rebeccablogs]

Love this art

[novaursa]

The Golden Court

- Summary: You were taken from the royal court by your father when you were a child. Now you return as a woman grown from exile. A woman that ignites fires in her wake.

- Pairing: Jason Lannister/targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: This is a sneak peek for the story that will fall into my posting schedule, once one of my main series has been concluded.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

The chamber is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the flames flickering with every breath of air. The scent of wine and smoke lingers in the air, mingling with something richer—something primal. The heat in the room has nothing to do with the hearth, but rather the hands that roam your body, the lips that trace paths of fire against your skin.

Jason and Tyland Lannister. Twin lions, golden and dangerous, with hands and mouths that know your body as intimately as their own.

Jason presses his mouth against your throat, his beard rough against your delicate skin, his breath hot and heavy. "Do you know what they would say if they knew, little dragon?" he murmurs against your pulse, his voice thick with desire. His fingers tighten around your hips, holding you in place against him. "If they knew how their Targaryen princess spreads her legs for lions in the dead of night?"

His words make heat coil low in your belly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. Jason always knows what to say to make you burn, to make you ache.

"You should not tease her," Tyland interjects, his tone smoother, more direct. He stands behind you, his hands already working the laces of your gown, his breath warm against your ear. "She enjoys it too much."

You shiver as your gown is loosened, the fabric slipping from your shoulders, pooling at your feet in a whisper of silk. Jason steps back slightly to admire you, his gaze dark with hunger as he drinks you in.

"Gods," he breathes, dragging a hand down his face as if in disbelief. "How is it that you look like sin itself and yet sit in the company of kings like some untouchable prize?"

You smirk, reaching for him, pulling him back to you with a force that makes him groan. "Because I belong to no one," you whisper against his lips, letting your nails scrape lightly against his chest. "Not even you."

Jason's eyes darken further, his grip tightening, a growl low in his throat. "That is where you are wrong, little dragon," he says before he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. His mouth is hot, demanding, his hands greedy as they explore every curve of your body.

Behind you, Tyland is more measured, more precise. His hands glide down your back, his lips pressing reverent kisses along your shoulder. He does not need to speak crude words to tell you what he wants—his actions do that well enough.

Jason is the first to have you tonight.

He lifts you with ease, guiding you back onto the bed, his larger frame pressing you into the soft furs beneath you. His hands grip your thighs, parting them, his breath coming quicker now. "I should have taken you the first night we had you between us," he admits, his voice rough, laced with something possessive. "Should have made you ours then and there."

"You were too drunk," Tyland remarks dryly, already removing the last of his own clothing. "And our princess deserves more than fumbling hands and half-formed promises."

Jason laughs at that, a wicked sound, before his gaze locks onto yours once more. "And now, little dragon, you shall have all of me."

Then he takes you, and you are lost to the fire of their touch.

Jason is relentless. A lion in truth, devouring his prey with unyielding hunger. His body moves against yours, his hands gripping your hips as if to brand his possession into your very skin. His thrusts are deep, thorough, as though he means to ruin you for any man who is not him.

And you let him.

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails dragging over his broad back as he buries himself inside you, his breath ragged against your ear. His body is heavy atop yours, the scent of him—wine, sweat, and something purely masculine—filling your senses. His golden hair falls over his forehead, damp with exertion, his eyes burning into yours with something raw and unrestrained.

“Look at you,” he rasps, voice roughened with pleasure, his grip tightening on your thigh as he presses it higher, deeper. “You were made for this. Made to take me like this, weren’t you?”

A moan escapes you, your back arching beneath him. He grins, wild and hungry, before his mouth claims yours in a kiss that is all teeth and desire. You taste the salt of his skin, the wine on his tongue, the sheer possessiveness in his touch. He’s always been like this—crude, unashamed, needing you with a fervor that borders on desperation.

“Such a pretty little dragon,” he growls against your lips, his movements growing more urgent, more demanding. “So tight, so fucking perfect wrapped around me.”

The words send heat flooding through you, your nails digging into his back as pleasure coils deep within your core. His hands roam, squeezing, marking, claiming you as his own. Jason does not love gently; he loves fiercely, as though he might never have you again.

His pace becomes frantic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he chases his own pleasure. His hands tighten, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate. “Gods,” he grits out, his teeth grazing the curve of your neck. “You’re going to ruin me.”

And then he breaks, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he finds his release, his body shuddering against yours. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his grip almost bruising as he holds you to him, unwilling to let you go just yet.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of his ragged breathing, the heat of his body still pressed against yours. Then, with a final, lingering kiss to your throat, Jason pulls away, rolling onto his back. He pushes a hand through his sweat-dampened hair before reaching for the wine jug on the nearby table, pouring himself a cup with a satisfied smirk.

“Your turn, brother,” he says, tilting his head toward Tyland. “Do try to be gentler with her than I was.”

Tyland does not hesitate.

He is upon you in moments, his body pressing against yours, his touch more deliberate, more controlled. His hands slide over your heated skin, his fingers tracing the marks Jason left upon you with something like satisfaction.

“You love when we ruin you, don’t you?” Tyland murmurs, his lips ghosting over your collarbone as he positions himself between your legs. His voice is quieter than Jason’s, but no less sinful. “You crave it.”

Your breath catches as he enters you, his movements slow, purposeful. Where Jason is fire, Tyland is steel—sharp, deliberate, utterly unrelenting. He takes his time, savoring the way your body reacts to him, the way you tremble beneath his touch.

Jason watches from the corner of the room, sipping his wine, his green eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “You’ll have her screaming before long,” he remarks, his smirk deepening.

Tyland merely hums in response, his pace steady, unhurried. His hands grip your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he begins to move with more force, more intensity.

Your moans fill the chamber, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, the heavy breath of your lover as he takes what is his.

Tyland’s control finally snaps. His measured pace gives way to something rougher, more desperate, his grip tightening on your hips as he buries himself deeper, chasing his own pleasure. His breath comes in sharp gasps, his teeth grazing your shoulder, his hands roaming with purpose.

“You take me so well,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction. “So perfectly made for this—for us.”

You barely have time to catch your breath, to respond, before he thrusts harder, sharper. Your back arches against the mattress, your hands clutching at the furs beneath you as pleasure coils hot in your belly once more. Tyland’s grip is firm, his movements relentless. He is no longer the composed man he presents to the world, no longer the measured strategist. Here, in the dark, he is just as wild as his brother.

And then he breaks.

His release is as fierce as his lovemaking, his body tensing, his breath ragged against your ear as he spills inside you. He stays there for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers stroking absently over your side as he comes down from his high.

Jason, who has been watching lazily from the chair, swirls his wine in his cup, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“How do you think we’ll know?” Tyland asks, still breathless, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your damp skin. “Which one of us it will be?”

Jason snorts, setting down his cup. “Doesn���t matter, does it? Either way, it’ll be a Lannister.”

At this, you groan, pressing a hand against Tyland’s chest as you attempt to push him away and sit up. “You two are insufferable,” you scold, voice hoarse from pleasure, your body still trembling in the aftermath of their attentions. “Speaking of heirs while I’m still catching my breath.”

Jason grins, unbothered. “A necessary conversation, my dragon.”

You shake your head, reaching for the sheet to wrap around yourself, but Tyland moves swiftly, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you firmly back against him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder.

“I’m going to dress,” you reply, twisting in his grip, though it does little to loosen his hold. “I cannot stay here all night—”

“Yes, you can,” Jason interjects, stretching out lazily in the chair, his smirk wicked. “We’ve barely had our fill of you.”

You glare at him, trying once more to free yourself from Tyland’s grasp. “You two have no shame.”

“None at all,” Jason agrees easily.

You open your mouth to argue, but Jason interrupts, a sudden gleam in his eye.

“Marry us.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, heavy and unexpected.

You blink at him, caught off guard. “What?”

Jason grins, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You heard me. Reverse Aegon the Conqueror—marry us both. You have two hands, two legs—I see no reason why you shouldn’t have two husbands.”

Tyland hums in agreement, his fingers absently tracing patterns over your hip. “It would solve the matter of succession.”

You stare at them, incredulous. “You truly have lost your minds.”

Jason shrugs. “Oh, come now, little dragon. What is the alternative? That we fight over you like savages? Share you in secret for the rest of our days?” His gaze darkens slightly, voice lowering. “I will not let you go, Y/N. Neither will he.”

Tyland does not deny it. His grip tightens slightly on your waist, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. “It makes sense.”

You groan, rubbing a hand over your face. “My father would have a heart attack.”

Jason barks a laugh. “Daemon? Oh, he would be furious. But he would get over it.”

Tyland raises an eyebrow. “Would he?”

Jason grins. “Well, eventually.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “You are both mad.”

Jason only smirks, lifting his cup in a mock toast. “Madly in love with you.”

Tyland chuckles, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Think on it, princess.”

And despite yourself, you do.

[helaenarts]

This diva 💛🖤

[imbunnysan]

commission

[seohyun0306]

Which of my most vile hot takes resonates with you

[thesongoficeandfir3]

Prince!Maegor x Wife!reader

You’ve heard of Dark!Maegor, Yandere!Maegor, Toxic!Maegor but feast your eyes on 🥁🥁🥁 normal-ish Maegor!

This is just basically Mae before he went cray cray because while I am NOT a Maegor defender I do think that he is definitely mischaracterized ( intentionally ) in Targaryen history

This isn’t exactly supposed to be ‘soft’ Maegor but just him when his father/brother was still alive and him especially before the trial by the Seven ifykyk

Warnings: Maegor is still a bit of an ass and a dash of NSFW

Prince!Maegor before he earns his title as the cruel and is still a cunt, but a cunt who is still sound of mind

Prince!Maegorwho is the definition of the victor writes the narrative because he was not as bad as they tried to paint him to be

Prince!Maegorwho is not good with intimacy and affection at all but that is not to say he doesn’t know what love is, his mother taught him what love was (PLATONICALLY) and showed him what it means to be loved, so he knows what it is but does not know how to express it in the conventional way

Prince!Maegor who has a brute and fierce personality which then seeps into the way he loves

Prince!Maegorwho does not know how to express his love in a soft, calm or gentle way and only really knows how to express his love for you through extreme, passionate and occasionally violent ways

Prince!Maegor who is more than ready to set a city ablaze or remove heads from hundreds of bodies with blackfyre if it means keeping you safe but when it comes to more romantic ( and normal) things like saying a simple “I love you” or even just hugging you, he won’t or rather can’t do it

Prince!Maegor who’s personality will not exactly do a 180° for you, he will still be his rough, asshole, and brute of person but there will be an undertone of softness only reserved for you

Prince!Maegorwho showed an example of this when before a battle you gave him your scarf for luck and he scoffed and mocked you asking if you really thought a piece of cloth would keep him safe, but at the same time he also never took it off and carried it with him every battle from that day forward even when it became bloodied and ripped

Prince!Maegor who when it comes to displaying physical acts of affection it can be small and subtle or passionate and intense never in between

Prince!Maegor who gently forces you to look up at him holding you there with his two fingers on your chin, scanning your features and speaking in High Valyrian so you won’t understand the compliments he tells you, you do not know what he is saying, but his deep and smooth voice along with the unwavering contact with his deep violet eyes is enough

Prince!Maegor who towers nearly everyone so he also towers over you, he uses this advantage to give you a quick kiss atop your head

Prince!Maegorwho is a lot more intense with his physical affection when he is deprived of you for a long time or is going to be

Prince!Maegor who as you send him off to quell another riot before he mounts Balerion he pulls you against his broad chest, with a firm hand at the back of your head and the other squeezing your ass, as he gives you a deep and passionate kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours telling you he will return to you

Prince!Maegor who while he himself is scarce with affection he will not shove you off if you show it , wether it be you laying on top of his large and warm body on a cold night or wrapping your hands around his strong bicep as you two enter an event at the castle

Prince!Maegor who will still be a bit of an asshole to you and will occasionally give you snide and crude remarks and still carry a bit of roughness to his tone but most of the time his words carry no kick to them

Prince!Maegor who is loyal, if you are able to provide him plenty of healthy heirs he sees no reason to take another wife and he sees whores as a waste of time and coin

Prince!Maegor who while he does not entertain the idea of whores that does not mean he is not a lustful man he just prefers it to be you, his perfect wife

Prince!Maegor who even with you tends to be still quick to anger and will still explode at you in an argument either by yelling, breaking things or grabbing you harshly by the forearm

Prince!Maegor who you are the only one where he feels slightly guilty after exploding on you but would rather die than actually apologize

Prince!Maegor who avoids you for days ridden with a mixture of guilt and anger with the whole situation but is not emotionally intelligent enough to just go to you and talk it out thus his apologies come in forms of lavish gifts being sent to your chambers and hopes you’d be the one to come to him

NSFW MDNI

Prince!Maegor who when taking you is rough and fast but never to the point where it’s far more pain than pleasure

Prince!Maegor who at the beginning of your marriage was very selfish when it came to pleasure but the more you grew on each other things change

Prince!Maegor who still very much is a receiver but always ensures you are also well satisfied at the end of it, one thing being him groping your breast and playing with your nipples in between his fingers as you ride on top of him

Prince!Maegor who is most vulnerable after a session, he will either collapse on you burying his face in the crook of your neck, him feeling like a weighted blanket as you comb a hand through his damp white hair or as your back rest against his chest his hands gently rubbing your bare stomach, very rare moments where he is not rough and just soft

A/n: feel free to send in your own prince Maegor asks or hcs if you wish

[targtowerxstark]

Hello dear, since your request are open, can you write about dragon dreamer reader as cregan wife? Thankyouu and have a nice day🙃🙃🙃🥰

I love this idea!!!. I’m working through requests now !!and please flood my inbox i love everyone’s ideas 🫶🏼

The Dreamer of Winterfell

Cregan Stark X Dragon dreamer wife

The wind howled across the vast, snow-covered lands of Winterfell, a relentless force that swept through the stone halls, rattling the windows and echoing through the chambers. Inside the great keep, a fire burned brightly in the hearth of the great hall, casting warm flickers of light across the carved wooden tables and the banners of House Stark.

Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, sat in his high seat, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the stone floor. His mind was far from the revelry of the feast that had begun earlier in the evening. He had other matters to attend to, matters far more pressing than the politics of the North. His thoughts were with his wife, the Lady y/n Targaryen, the dragon-blooded princess from the distant lands of the south.

Y/n, his beloved, had been restless these past few nights. She would wake him in the early hours, eyes wide and searching, speaking of dragon dreams that none could understand but her. Cregan had always been a man of reason, of solid ground beneath his feet, but he knew his wife was no ordinary woman. The blood of dragons ran through her veins, and with it, strange gifts—gifts that often brought her torment.

Tonight, as the wind whispered against the stone walls, y/n stood before the great window in their chamber, her slender form silhouetted against the pale moonlight. She was gazing out over the snow-draped landscape, her face pale and drawn with worry.

“y/n,” Cregan’s deep voice broke through the silence, causing her to turn. He had removed his cloak and gloves, his heavy fur-lined tunic still warm from the fire, but the coldness in his heart remained. “What is it? Another vision?”

She turned fully to face him, her violet eyes darker than usual, as if she had been drawn into some shadowy world from which she could not escape. “It was… different this time, my love,” she said softly, her voice a mix of sorrow and confusion. “The dragon called to me again, but this time… it did not speak in flames, Cregan. It was in whispers—dark, cold whispers.”

Cregan’s brow furrowed. He had long since learned that y/n’s dreams were no mere trappings of the mind. “Tell me, my lady,” he said, stepping closer to her, his large hands gently resting on her shoulders. “What did you hear?”

She closed her eyes, as though trying to recapture the vision. “The whispers spoke of a great shadow,” she murmured. “A darkness that would come from the farthest reaches of the North, from lands no man knows. It will bring the cold and death, Cregan. It will erase everything.”

His grip tightened slightly, though he remained calm. “You know that the dragons of old spoke in riddles. These whispers may be no more than a warning, but the true meaning may remain hidden.”

Y/n shook her head, her silver-blonde hair shimmering in the light of the hearth. “This time, I do not think it is just a warning. It feels like a truth, one that will soon come to pass. I saw it—so clearly. A frozen Lord, as white as snow, with eyes like blue sapphires. It sleeps beneath the ice and rises in the North, and the lands freeze in its wake. There is nothing left but frost and death.”

Cregan’s heart sank at her words. As much as wanted to believe these were just bad dreams, the very idea of a frozen lord, sleeping beneath the ice, bringing death to the lands he held so dear was a thought he could not bear. “You speak of something similar to white walkers my love, A threat of such power would be a terror to all the realm,” he said, his voice low and troubled. “But how can we stop it?”

Y/n turned away from him, walking slowly toward the window once more. She placed a hand on the cool glass, her breath fogging up the pane as she stared out into the vast, snow-filled night. “I do not know,” she said quietly. “The vision was so clear, so vivid, but there is nothing more. No answer. Only the certainty that it is coming.”

Cregan stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the world pressing on him. He had long known that the Targaryens carried both fire and blood, but it seemed that the gift his wife bore would soon bring them both to a crossroads.

"Y/n," he said, moving closer to her, his voice firm but filled with compassion. "We will face this together. Whatever this darkness is, whatever this cold might bring, we will stand as one. The North is strong, and so are we. The gods may have gifted you with these visions, but it is our will that will shape the future."

She turned to him, her eyes softening. "You have always been my strength, my love," she whispered, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "But I fear that even the might of Winterfell may not be enough to face what is coming."

Cregan's grip on her hand tightened. "Then we will seek out the answers,y/n. We will not sit idle and wait for this terror to claim us.“

Y/n closed her eyes, her forehead resting gently against his chest. “And what of the dream? The whispers of the cold and death? Should we ignore them?”

Cregan stroked her hair gently. “No,” he said firmly. “We will not ignore them. But we must prepare—seek counsel, gather strength. We will go to our allies, to those who know of the white walkers and the old prophecies. The North may be our home, but there are forces beyond the Wall and beyond the Reach that we must understand.”

Y/n pulled away slightly, her eyes meeting his. “You believe we can stop it?”

Cregan pulled her closed and whispered in her ear.

“We can only try my love”

[malleefies]

Alyssa Velaryon sketch 🌊⋆🐚🫧 Very very fond of her and Aenys. I didn't want to leave this sketch to die in my gallery lol little additional rhaena sketch below

[scorpiusartistry]

A little sketch of Jaehaera and her baby dragon. Mad at George for not giving Morghul some more time

[elycetellsall]

mothers

[amoratearte]

🐉 Aemon Targaryen 💘

Targaryen Family Tree

“a boy, clean-limbed and healthy, with eyes as pale as lilac. His hair, when it came in, was pale as well, shining like white gold, a color rare even in Valyria of old. Jaehaerys named him Aemon.”