#i love you baela i love when the daughters are just like their fathers

[allyriadayne]

How is it obvious that Jace and Baela like each other in the book? Weren’t there rumours of Jace cheating?

this is, of course, only my interpretation. i did say a "a bit" more obvious than in the show where they've never said 1) explicit words about their relationship or 2) have been tested in their duty to each other.

in relation to number 1 we have this instance of baela announcing that she would "marry jace at once" (first pic). this bit is really interesting to me because it shows baela eagerness to "participate" in the war effort in the only way she's allowed to: to marry the prince and to bear his children, in turn propagating the legacy of her family and faction. i think this is a very clear indication that she's not opposite on her relationship with jace, in fact, she wishes to commence her married life "at once".

in the show there's a very small change that snowballed into baela's more active role in war and council, which was moondancer's size. with this, she doesn't need to depend on jace's position but rather, make herself his equal and participate fully, therefore sacrificing a bit of the relationship.

as for number 2, this is a bit contrived but those cheating allegations come into play as a form to test both jace and his relationship and duty to baela. in the second pic, the passage is biased and classist though it does shed light on jace's state. the prince who crosses half the continent in search of allies, who sacrifices himself even when his very position and stability are in danger, would not have "cheated" (is it cheating when you've been betrothed since you were four and are not actually married? eh) or at least "broken" his promises to baela. which is to say, if he had indeed cheated, let's say, slept with sara snow if she existed (or performed oral sex on jeyne arryn (i mean?? get it girl i guess)) he wouldn't have married her at all. this is obviously a parallel to robb and jeyne westerling, where robb breaks his promise to the freys, jace keeps it. and they both still die because it was never about that.

all this to say, to jace, duty is intertwined with love for his family and whether this love is romantic or platonic is up for debate but if you ask me is a little bit of both like everything ever with the targaryens. i do think they liked each other in the book and that jace missed baela when he was in the north and that baela mourned him after the gullet. these two instances make the jace/baela relationship a bit more obvious, or at least, more straightforward than the one in the show.

[novaursa]

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Paring: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

[the20thangel]

A Calling to the Past

Summary: Request! Targaryen!reader. The reader has a similar vibe to when Rhaenyra comes back bloodied from the hunt and Harwin Strong gives her the love eyes. However, in this case, it's the reader and Benjicot. Benjicot Blackwood has it down hard for a woman covered in blood.

Word Count: 1.8K

(this is an x reader fanfic but just with a name)

Note: This is the last of my current requests that I have taken. Requests are closed, as I will focus on my series now. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy it.

Kingslanding was filled with noble houses from all across the realm. All were coming to celebrate the coronation of their new Queen, Rhaenyra. King Viserys, knowing that his health was not improving, decided to step down from the throne and pass it off to his heir. Of course, since it was still King Viserys, he planned a five-day celebration for the coronation, creating a massive spectacle everyone wanted to participate in—tourneys, hunting games, feasts, masquerade balls, and lastly, ending with the glorious coronation day. They were currently on the second day of the celebration, and Princess Elaena was exhausted. 

She did not do well with so many people being in Kingslanding. She preferred the comforts of the calmness in Dragonstone. But of course, being the twin sister of now heir Prince Jacaerys and Crown princess herself, it was her duty to entertain the many lords and ladies who walked the Red Keep. Princess Elaena was ever bit the beautiful Targaryen princess people expected. Her lovely white hair, which usually flowed freely, was tied to a braided bun today. She had deep violet eyes and beautiful dimples that accented her pearly smile. Everyone wanted to make the princess laugh or grin just to glimpse of her dimples. 

As the Princess arrived in Kingswood, she glanced at the many houses preparing for the day's hunt; she saw Lannisters, Tullys, Celtigars, Baratheons, and even Starks. All were here for her mother, which brought a smile to her face because until recently. Eleana worried that a war was brewing inside her family, one of Blacks and Greens, but the gods—she did not know which ones—decided to smile upon them, and thankfully, her mother's succession to the Iron Throne was smooth.  

Walking into her mother’s tent, Rhaenyra saw her daughter's clothes; instead of gowns like most of the ladies, her daughter was wearing her usual dragon-riding clothes. She smiled, knowing what her daughter’s plan was. 

“I see that you will be partaking in the hunt with your brothers,” Rhaenyra inquires, meeting her daughter and pressing a sweet kiss on her forehead. Their bond was strong, and Eleana cherished these moments with her mother. 

Eleana smiled no matter how old she was. She would always enjoy her mother’s affection. 

“Why, of course, I fear I would grow bored if I had to wait here with the rest of the ladies and gossip over tea. No, I’ll let Uncle Aegon do that,” smirked Eleana as she and her mother shared a quiet giggle between them. Aegon did love to gossip. 

Rhaenyra shook her head as she expressed good luck to her daughter, telling her to show those lords how to hunt. Eleana smirked and bowed to her mother, going to find her brothers eagerly awaiting her to start riding off toward the woods. Prince Jacaerys and Lucerys smiled at their sister. They would hunt with their step-father Daemon, Baela, and Uncle Aemond. Daemon nodded to his stepdaughter before signaling to the other lords that the hunt was commencing and riding off into the woods, with the princes and princesses following soon after. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Benjicot tried to stifle a yawn; he had forgotten how long and boring some of these hunts could be here, away from Raventree Hall. His father fondly shook his head at him, understanding his boredom, but Benji needed to get better at concealing his emotions. 

At the front, Jace and Eleana also stifled their yawns. They had been riding for two hours with only a few hares and deer being caught. All of the lords had yet to have any luck with elks or boars. Eleana briefly turned her back to the lords behind her, hearing how they boasted their hunting skills with puffed chests. Rolling her eyes, she faced forward again. Men and their egos, she thought. 

Suddenly, Daemon raised his hand, halting the party; as he looked around, he heard rustling in the trees. In the distance was an elk grazing in the grass, perfect for hunting. Eleana grinned as she reached for her bow; she took an arrow, nocked it, and pulled her arm back, aiming towards the great beast. She glanced at Daemon, who grinned, nodding his head, giving her permission to strike. Looking back at the elk, she exhaled slowly, releasing her tension, when a young knight from house Lannister shouted. 

“Look there, it's an elk!” causing the animal to stiffen, seeing the party and running away.  

Eleana growled as she released her arrow, seeing it miss the beast and hitting the tree behind it. With a dark glare, she turned to the young man.

“Yes, good ser, thank you for shouting the obvious. The next time you decide to shout like that, I will gladly hang you upside down as bait for a boar.” threatened the princess as she rode off toward the Elk. 

Daemon and the princes began laughing at Lannister’s pale face, which caused the rest of the lords to join in the teasing. 

“Well, then, perhaps we should divide into smaller groups. I will take a few of you men, and the princes will take another and meet up with my stepdaughter,” proposed Prince Daemon. 

 As the lords separated, Lord Samwell pushed Benjicot to follow the princes and princesses, expressing how he might have more fun with those closer to his age. Benji nodded as he moved to the other group, following the young dragons. 

Jacaerys nodded to the heirs of house Blackwood and house Tully as they rode to meet with Princess Eleana. Finding her off her horse, letting the animal refresh itself from the small creek. The rest of the group followed, allowing their horses to drink water. 

“Eleana, if you were going to threaten a Lannister, you should have just brought him to your dragon.” taunted Aemond, laughing at his niece’s sneer. 

“Hm, well, maybe he should have kept his stupid mouth shut; we lost a perfect elk because of his idiotic screeching.” countered the princess, rolling her eyes at her uncle’s taunting. 

Benji pretended to cough to cover up his laugh from the princess, and the prince’s bantered. Unfortunately, it backfired when the princess stared at him with an eyebrow raised in confusion. He gulped as the dragon princes and princesses looked at the young heir. Their eyes were daunting with different shades of purple. Luke, being the ever-sweet prince, decided to take pity on him and explained their stepfather’s plan to his sister. Eleana nodded, asking for the names of the new people in their group. 

“Oscar and Kermit Tully, and I’m Benjicot Blackwood, but you may call me Ben or Benji.” Benji shyly introduced himself as the Tully brother bowed to the royals. 

Eleana smiled subtly, “Well, my lords, as long as you don’t make the same mistake as the Lannister, you are very welcome to our group.” 

The young Lads grinned at the princess as they continued their way through the woods, conversing with each other quietly so as not to make any loud noises to frighten the animals they were hunting for. As they rode for another hour, they took a quick break to ease their legs from riding so much. As they stretched their aching bodies, they suddenly froze when they heard rustling from the trees. As they all hurried to reach their weapons, Luke yelled a warning to Benji, who turned quickly to see a different Elk, a buck, running towards him and loudly screaming. As he reached for his dagger, a blur of white passed him. Eleana quickly released an arrow on the buck’s neck, changing its course. The Elk grunted as it turned to the young people, who all braced themselves for it to attack. As the Elk screeched again, running to Eleana and Benjicot, Aemond, and Jace ran towards it, only for it to swing its antlers, smacking both princes to the ground. Benji braced himself, taking out his sword, as Eleana nocked another arrow, letting it soar to the Elk’s leg as it buckled from the pain. Benji placed himself before the princess and stabbed the Elk, trying to stop it from falling on them. The Elk wailed as it fell only inches away from the princess and lord. 

Huffing, Eleana smiled at Benji. “Well done, Ben. You managed to kill the Elk.” She praised him, chuckling as the heir of Raventree Hall blushed. 

“Only because you injured it first, princess, but what caused the Elk to react that way…” pondered Ben when he was roughly pushed away. 

A Boar ran from the trees and bulldozed his way to the group. Eleana, seeing the boar, pushed Benji out of the way as the boar tripped her and tried to attack her with his tusks. Ameond quickly ran and stabbed the boar, causing blood to drip onto the princess. As the prince took out his sword, he kicked the boar away from his niece, and Lucerys and Baela stabbed it, ensuring the beast was dead. 

Jace pulled his sister up from the ground, checking for injuries as the Tully brothers did the same for Benjicot. Benjicot waved off his friends as he went to the princess to ensure she was alright. Besides being bloodied with boar’s blood, the princess had no injuries as she and Ben both expressed their concerns to each other. Blushing at speaking simultaneously, Benji lowered his eyes and expressed gratitude to the princess. 

Eleana, cheeks red, smiled bashfully at the lord as she comforted him, “I’m fine, thank you. I apologize for pushing you. I just saw the beast coming so fast towards you, and I didn't have time to fully think about my actions.” 

Benjicot waved off her apology, “If it weren't for you, my princess, I would have been seriously injured. Thank you.” Grinning, as the princess’s blush worsened. 

As the rest of the group gave knowing glances, they started to pack their supplies and return to the camp, noting how a certain raven lord and princess stayed towards the back, quietly conversing with each other. Many gaped at the group once they reached the camp, impressed that they brought back an elk and boar. The royal family thanked the lads, inviting them to their table during the feast as they returned to their tents. 

As Benjicot returned to his men, he glanced back at the bloodied princess. As he smiled widely, he thought about how gorgeous she looked. Elaena, seeing the heir to Raventree Hall grinning at her with a soft nod, returned a dimpled grin. She liked having his attention to her. Unbeknownst to them, Rhaenyra was staring at the scene before her, feeling like she was watching a flashback. One of a similar bloodied princess and a dark-haired man nodding his approval. She wistfully smiled, remembering her sworn shield. She carefully made a note of the House Blackwood banner. She and Lord Samwell might need to have an interesting conversation soon after her coronation.

[gracexthoughts]

headstrong

warnings; none really, fluffy, mostly unedited  summary; okay so i combined these two requests (kind of and i may still write another intrusion like fic another time) because King!Dad!Jace immediately infiltrated my mind and would not let go once I saw these  a/n; again, thank you all for the requests, i love them all and am excited to work on them but here is a little short drabble bc i couldn't not write this immediately 

“What?” the Princess Luceara exclaims, her dark violet eyes darting between her mother and father. 

“You are of age, Lucy,” the girl's mother sighs, adjusting in her seat; the weight of her growing stomach causing discomfort. “You must have known this an inevitability.” 

“You told me I could choose!” The princess fires back. Kingsguards had intercepted her on her way to the Dragonpit so she stands in her riding clothes, her light gray hair woven back into braids that hang around her shoulder. Her hair is darker than that of the typical Targaryen, but like her father, her dragon blood proves true as she rides her dragon and argues and commands with the fire of her house in her voice. 

“You may and will. All I’m saying is it's high time we begin the search,” Jacaerys states, watching his daughter. Fathers aren’t meant to have favorites but he adores his eldest, his darling girl, his only daughter. The day she came into the world was one of the most terrifying and beautiful of his life and he adores the woman she is becoming, even though she aggravates him so. 

“You’re a year elder than I was when I met your father,” the Queen says, glancing up at her husband who rests his hand on the back of her chair. 

“You were fortunate. Aunt Baela and Aunt Rhaena were fortunate! Most are not! And yet you are intent to sell me off!” Lucaera cries indignantly. 

“We are not,” Jacaerys yells loudly before stopping himself and lowering his voice, “selling you off. You must marry to secure your reign. It is a fact, irregardless of your gender. My mother did the same, if you recall your histories.” 

The princess’ eyebrow raises as she coldly stares down her father, her gaze defiant and hard. She watches as her father’s face transforms from the soft, if disgruntled, image of her father to the vision of the King. She grits her teeth, knowing this is a battle she will lose, today or in a moon, or a year but she will lose. The inevitability of her fate consumes her hot like dragon breath, choking her and wrapping around like chains. Her hard gaze falters but, ever headstrong, she turns on her heel, her gray curls and blood red coat swaying in her wake as she storms from the King’s chambers. 

Jacaerys sighs, leaning down on the table at the center of the room. The weight of rule weighs heavy on his shoulders but in truth, it's his familial duties he worries of most. Even decades past the Dance of Dragons and in the safety of the Red Keep, his memories haunt him. Every draw of a sword reminds him of battle. Every labor his wife endures sends him into a panic, memories of his mother’s cries echoing through the halls as she birthed his sister still ringing in his ears. He is only pulled from the depths of his memories by his wife’s touch on his shoulder as she comes to stand at his side. 

“She learned that look from you,” Jacaerys states, pushing up off the table to turn to his Queen. 

“She will come around, just as I did,” she says placatingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. 

“It took nearly a year, if I recall correctly. And that was after we met,” the king reminds her, remembering all too well how she shunned him when they first met at seven and ten years of age. She’d give him the same look his daughter leveled at him just moments ago whenever he tried to chip away at her defenses. 

“Well then you better summon suitors to court or send her off on a tour soon,” the queen laughs lightly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. She sucks in a sharp breath suddenly, her hand rubbing at her bump. 

“How is the little dragon?” Jacaerys asks, his warm hands moving to rest on his wife, wishing he could take her pain from her and bear it himself. 

“Kicking like a goat,” the Queen laughs feebly, leaning into her husband's embrace. “The maesters now believe it's a girl.” 

“So I’m to have another daughter to rain seven hells on my will?” He jests, his amber eyes gazing upon his beloved queen. 

“You speak as if you did not do the same to your mother, and she to her father, and so on,” the queen laughs. “It is the way of eldests and one day, she will have her own child who will refuse to marry and run off to ride on dragonback at the slightest inconvenience.” Jacaerys laughs, a true hearty laugh that is music to his wife’s ears. He shakes his head and pulls him into her, cupping her face as their lips intertwine, their worries momentarily forgotten.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Will You Teach Me? (Jacaerys x Reader)

Oh I’m on fire! Ok so I think I’m getting my groove back and I’m actually really proud of this one cause it’s been a while since I’ve written something that is so fluff and I hope you guys enjoy it too!

-

(Y/n) Starks name and legend were one that the starks would always bring up when it came to honor and loyalty, the first of their house to have the crown of the seven kingdoms placed on her head, she was two years older than her lord husband Jacaerys and excellent at the art of archery, “the kind she-wolf” was the name that the realm bestowed to her.

Princess (y/n) was the one that had urged Rhaenyra to protect Jacaerys claim, the greens might have been able to digest their defeat but like snakes (y/n) had guessed that they were just waiting for their turn, raising banners to come and swear to protect Jacaerys claim and promising her daughter to the Reach, her eldest son to the daughter of Baela Velaryon and her youngest son to the daughter of the lord of Arryn, ensuring that everyone else beneath them would follow.

The mutual respect and love Queen Rhaenyra shared with Lady Stark was well known in history, they were many witnesses on the morrow that (y/n) brought her second born child to present it to the queen and informed her that the couple has decided to name her Rhaenyra, with tears in her eyes the queen hugged her son and good daughter and thanked them for such a generous gift.

As Princess Rhaenyra was hastily made queen before her dearest father passed, he had commanded to let her take the throne so he could watch his firstborn rule better than he ever could, in reality, he feared what would happen if he passed, as much as he trusted Otto with certain affairs the matter of Rhaenyras realm was delicate and having a queen for the very first time had to be handled with utmost care.

The lady (y/n) had attended the coronation along with her brother Cregan, she had bowed before the new queen with a smile of admiration on her lips, Rhaenyra had seen the girl before, she was a little girl back then but she could recall how well she and Jacaerys had played in the garden, back then (y/n) was wearing a light pink dress that had gotten caught on some type of thorn and Jacaerys patiently worked around the fabric to free her.

“It is an honor to stand before you, my queen”

“You are very sweet, you have grown so much since we saw you last, you are already so beautiful”

“I am trying to catch up to our queen I suppose”

“I hope you remember my son, Prince Jacaerys”

“How could I forget?”

It was the first time that (y/n) broke eye contact and looked at the floor, her cheeks were already a tad rosy and after Jacaerys took a step towards her it grew closer to the color of a tomato. Jacaerys cleared his throat before he took the lady’s hand and placed a subtle kiss on her knuckles.

“My lady”

That was when Queen Rhaenyras's eyes met with Cregans and they both nodded in unison, any person with good vision could see what was happening here, the pair had grown into their comely selves and with brave heart, still, the jitters of the first heartbeat took them over like a storm.

“It is not often that we have the pleasure to have the guardians of the north in our court, may I suggest you stay for another morrow or two”

“I am afraid I must go back and tend to my duties, however, my sister can stay, if that is something that she wishes”

“Can I brother?”

“It is settled then, Jacaerys please escort the lady to all of our available chambers, let her have her pick”

“You are so generous my queen, I must thank you”

(Y/n) bowed again before mother and son, Jacaerys only turned his gaze to his mother and closed his eyes briefly, he mustn’t say anything else, a mother knows when her son is compelled by the eyes and the smile of a woman.

“Go now”

“Right away, my queen”

Jacaerys jested and instinctively took (y/n) 's hand to scurry away, as they walked away as fast as they could without causing trouble Cregan and Rhaenyra watched disappear to the crowd, Cregan adored his youngest sister and Rhaenyra held such undeniable love for her eldest son, the first fruit of her love with Ser Harwin.

“You promise to take care of her?”

“As she was my own, well technically she will be my good daughter, do you promise that she won’t murder my son in his sleep?”

“Unfortunately I cannot, one time she threw a rock at the back of my horse so I would be knocked off because she wanted it”

“Then she will make the perfect queen”

-

(Y/n) had been nervous to attend supper with the Targaryens, her betrothal with Prince Jacaerys had just been announced and so many decisions had to be made, she must be perfect so she can honor her house.

“It is such a blessed day, my grandson is to be married to the lady Stark, a wonderful match that will bond our houses for reigns to come, let us drink to love”

“You do know how the act is done right? Do not sweat I shall be there to watch it all happen I can even happily replace you if you cannot rise to the occasion”

“You can be as nasty to me as you wish,  but hold your tongue in front of my betrothed”

(Y/n) was thankful for the hushed lash back of Jacaerys, Prince Aegon thought himself to be clever with such remarks ever since she stepped foot at court, his gawking made her uncomfortable and now she found herself squeamish of such behavior.

(Y/n) turned her attention to Jacaerys and mouthed a thank you to which Jacaerys responded with a smile and reached for her hand for the gentlest of touches, as the morrows passed the couple was growing their bond little by little, learning new things about one another and spending hours talking about anything they could think about.

As the supper went on smoothly, laughter and chatter filled the room, Jacaerys had left (y/n) side for only a moment so he could entertain his niece Heleana, a timid girl who seemed to keep to her own, (y/n) did not mind, on the contrary, she watched as they messed around and danced, all she could see was how endearing her betrothed prince was.

“I would also like to raise a toast”

“Aemond” Alicent pleaded

“To the health of my nephew Jacaerys, may he grow old and wise in his wedlock, and to the lady of the hour, (y/n), it is not common for such beast as a wolf to have the honor to exist next to a dragon”

“You are vile”

“Why? ‘‘Twas only a compliment, I thought starts took pride in being loyal dogs to their master”

That was enough for Jacaerys to lash out like never before, landing a punch to the eyed prince's face and Aemond responding with a shove, everything else happened in a blink of an eye and Aegon had pushed Lucerys head on the table, (y/n) felt like this was the best time to finally have a go at him and with all her might shoved the silver head drunken fool off the poor boy, when he took a step to attack her (y/n) grabbed a knife that was laying on the table and pointed it at Aegon.

“Come on you low life, let us have it then”

“Wait! Wait”

Daemon was heard in close range, causing the ruckus to stop, (y/n) remained still, she did not trust Aegon enough to give up, a man of his…ways would probably not play fair enough for her to give up her weapon or turn her back on him.

“Go to your chambers, all of you”

Still, (y/n) waited. Aegon eyes were fixated on her with an evil grin, (y/n) held on to appear poised and courageous but her breath was ragged and uneven, she was almost shaking from the sudden rush of emotions, it was only when queen Rhaenyra stuck her hand out with the palm up towards the princess that (y/n) glanced away from him.

“(Y/n)”

Her tone was steady and warning, yet with a touch of softness to reassure her that (y/n) would be safe if she gave away her knife. (Y/n) exhaled deeply and let the knife rest on Rhaenyras hand, at that moment it was when she heard footsteps and turned just in time to watch Jacaerys walk out of the room.

“Go on”

Rhaenyra could read the concern on the lady's face like an open book, (y/n) cared for her son and that brought her comfort, she was ready to harm a prince to protect her good brother, and loyalty ran through her veins, a trait that many lacked.

(Y/n) curtsied swiftly and then shuffled away, as she went up the stairs one after the other she thought over what she shall do, mayhaps the prince wished for some time alone, but on the other side, the comfort one gets from a pair of arms wrapped around you is the remedy to most wounds.

For a few moments, the lady paced in front of his door like she was guarding it until a young chambermaid approached with a wooden bucket.

“My lady, are you alright?”

“Yes I am fine, what is that?”

“The prince has requested more hot water for his bath”

“Oh, give it to me”

“My lady, are you sure”

“Do not fret over it, you may go”

The young girl handed the bucket over and walked away, without thinking over it she knocked on the door a few times only to be met with a man this time.

“My lady, the prince is bathing”

“I am aware, you may go as well”

“My lady-“

“What is it Alfred?”

Jacaerys questioned from inside. (Y/n) did not allow herself to think over this, she stepped into the room and was met with Jacaerys sitting in a tub, his arms spread on the side and the water was so hot that steam came out of it.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat as she stood there, bucket in hand and her lips merely moved halfway up to show some type of an extremely awkward smile.

“Leave us”

Jacaerys simply said. (Y/n) found it quite interesting that when they talked to her they questioned her motives, but for Jacaerys it only took two words for them to literally disappear. As the door closed behind silence overtook them, (y/n) walked closer and leaned down very slightly so she could tilt the bucket over and let the water run without splashing.

“Thank you”

“The water might burn your skin off”

“It helps after sword practice, it is often that my legs ache”

“May I?”

She interrupted him whilst she showed him the sponge, insinuating if she was allowed to scrub him with it. Jacaerys nodded and (y/n) sat on her knees before she dunked the sponge in the soap and let it touch the prince's skin.

Jacaerys skin glistened under the candlelight, (y/n) was holding on to any decency she had to not drool over the prince, as the muscles on his chest seemed to be carved onto him the lady guessed what the rest of his body looked like, his arms also had the appearance like they were drawn to perfection, as the sponge was the only thing that kept her from gracing his skin she let her mind run off to the idea of what it would feel like when he would pull her close.

“Thank you, for defending me”

“You are to be my lady wife, I will always be there to defend you, my nephew had it coming, I should be the one thanking you for protecting my brother”

“As much as I do not wish to see Lucerys get hurt a part of my motive was that I have been praying for a time were I can put my hands on Aegon”

Jacaerys cackled at the little remark of hers, seeing her wash over his skin so gently and how her eyes sparkled was something he did not know he needed, as the lady rose and took a cup that was there she then let her hand touch the top of his forehead before she let the water run on his long hair.

“You are far more careful than the servants”

“I shall hope so, when the time comes I wish for us to not need them for such affairs”

“Is that your way of admitting you’ve been dreaming of seeing me in such a state?”

“No, no my prince, I would”

“You are quite the sight when you get flustered do you know that”

A devilish snicker escaped Jacaerys lips while (y/n) placed her hands on her hips in defense while she pouted, Jacaerys could watch her furrowed eyebrows with pursed lips all day, like a child that was denied cake.

“Ah my eye”

“That is what you get”

(Y/n) reported in triumph after she let the soapy water run over his eyes causing the sting that everyone hates, Jacaerys shook his head in defeat in the meantime he let his head hang back and relaxed his shoulders, as he recalled her childish demeanor he caught himself thinking about having a daughter, dark long hair and piercing eyes that would pout just like her mother, oh how whipped would he be for that little girl.

“If I’m being frank I always wondered what it would be like to run a brush over those locks”

“I like to braid my hair before I sleep, my mother used to say it helped with keeping it neat, she would always make one thick braid in the middle of my head”

“Seems simple enough, will you teach me?”

“Gladly”

Instinctively (y/n) bends down and lets a kiss in the middle of the princess's head. The second she did it her eyes went as wide as they could, her torso snapped straight back and her hand went up to her mouth to hide her gaping lips.

Jacaerys was also taken aback and had followed her on the small gasp of surprise but seeing her so shocked over such a simple matter made him giggle once again, her cheeks turning rosy as he continued to laugh, seeing her in such distress over such a small act was rather amusing.

(y/n) always strived to portray herself as strong and untouchable by anything, being able to view her acting so delicate and sweet made him feel special like he was being let in on this secret world of hers, it made Jacaerys wonder what else would he be able to discover as the years would progress.

“I apologize, I should go”

“No, what is the problem? It was only a kiss, I promise I won’t tell a soul, besides, I need help rinsing, dearest”

Jacaerys had held her by the hand to not let her walk away, as he finished his sentence it was his turn to show his affection by leaving a kiss on her knuckles, the lady bit her lip as she thought over what to do, alas the little voice in her head that pushed her to stay won and (y/n) walked back to her original spot to a prince that grinned from ear to ear.

Jacaerys enjoyed being pampered, as the firstborn son his duties knocked on his doorstep when he was far too young, he never complained though, he yearned to make his mother proud, but there was no harm in indulging in (y/n) 's soft touch.

“It might not be the right time though I was hoping we could discuss something”

“Anything you want”

“I know we have not declared when we shall be wed, however, I wanted to express my concern over a certain part of it”

“Do not worry about anything, no matter what it is it shall be yours”

“It is not a thing I desire, I am afraid it is more complicated”

“Then what is it?”

“I do not wish to have a bedding ceremony”

She blurted out, her movements came to a halt as Jacaerys closed eyes opened to meet hers, (y/n) had kneeled to his eye level so it was not hard for him to stare right out her, her expression showed a hint of fear and a pang of guilt struck him right in the middle of his chest.

“I should have known”

“A public one is what I do not want, my septa has informed me about my wifely duties so I will not resist the ceremony as a whole, I am more than willing to give you children it is just the fact that-“

“You mustn’t explain yourself, I had just completely forgotten about that part since I’ve thankfully never attended to one”

“I understand it is tradition, however, I thought since your mother is the queen and if she agrees we can overlook it”

“The ceremony won’t take place, at all if that makes you happy, I will not start our wedlock by letting everyone see us like that”

(Y/n)s frown quickly turned back to a beam of pleasure, her eyes shining with hope. (Y/n) dreaded the moment ever since she found out about it, to be naked in front of numerous people and let them see her lord husband- no, no, no just the idea made her shiver.

Jacaerys had been honest when he said that he had forgotten about it he could not have been more sincere, he had the arrogance of a man since a ceremony of that nature would not fall heavy on his shoulders as much as if he had been the lady, of course, it is not as nice as a walk on a warm day but being intimate with your lady wife was something sacred.

That time he reached for her hand again, their faces inches away from one another and all one could hear was their deep and shallow breaths along with a few drops of water as Jacaerys remained completely still, (y/n) saw his other hand that extended over to neatly tuck her hair behind her ear before his fingertips casually followed along the line of her chin, his touch was hot and damp though (y/n) felt it was perfect.

For the briefest of moments (y/n) dared to imagine what their future would be like, Jacaerys with grey hair and wrinkles around his eyes bouncing their grandchildren on his lap as they drank tea in the garden, one thing that she could not deny was that amid chaos and the burden of the crown, Jacaerys was her peace, the comfortable silence amongst mindless chatter.

“When I was younger I asked my mother when I have a wife, knowing my mother had lost her first husband, she told me that when I feel like my heart will come out of my throat and when I would be willing to get on my dragon to bring the stars to her”

“I do not-”

“I will bring you the moon if that is what you long for”

“I long for love, honor, and respect”

“Promise me you will never shy away from speaking your mind to me”

“Careful, my brother would advise you to take your words back”

“I quite enjoy your blabbering, your voice is like a song of angels”

Requests are open!

[2rats1gogh]

I’ve never really seen anyone talking about this, but I noticed that one of the main reasons why I am team green is because team green feels like an actual team that is in this whole thing together.

Team Green feels connected, united, like a family.

Team Black on the other hand is… meh.

And let me explain why:

Rhaenyra being delusional and thinking that Daemon is actually in love with her when he literally just groomed her since she was a child because he has always been after her title and now wants to be her king consort. They have one of the most toxic, creepy and problematic relationships in the entire fucking show.

Then there is the very awkward and uncomfortable moment of Rhaenyra and Daemon having sex on Laena’s funeral, while Rhaenys, Corlys, Baela, Rhaena and Laenor are mourning the loss of their daughter, mother and sister. How fucking disrespectful is this. And then the fact that they have Laenor “killed” just so they can get married and have their own perfectly blonde targaryen babies.

And Rhaenyra lying about Jace, Luke and Joff to everyone in her very own “team”, trying to gaslight not only Corlys, and Rhaenys but also her own sons into thinking they are trueborn, when even Jace himself. as a child, starts asking questions.

Then there are obviously Rhaenys and Corlys, who for some fucking reason neglected their trueborn granddaughters in favor of some dark haired white bastards their daughter-in-law is trying to pass off as their son’s children. Rhaenys is trying sooo hard to please her misogynistic husband because he so desperately wants his name to go down in history. Then the disrespectful betrothal of Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra is literally robbing these poor girls of their rightful claim to Driftmark and usurping them. And now, with Luke being dead, Rhaena’s claim dies with him.

Baela and Rhaena losing their mother, and now their father suddenly remarries, and has two blonde boys. Rhaenys losing BOTH her children and then seeing her son-in-law and daughter-in-law getting married soon after that.

Everyone in team black is after their own ambitions. They lie to each other, they don’t trust each other, they suspect each other in different things, they cheat on each other (with each other) and lie about it, they give each other forced ultimatums, and yada yada. All their scenes feel forced, tense, awkward and uncomfortable. They look so miserable with each other.

Team Green in this sense is the exact opposite.

Although their dynamic is far from perfect, obviously, you cannot deny that they care about each other very very deeply.

Alicent loves all of her children, and even while acknowledging their flaws, she still loves them.

Aemond might’ve been a little envious of Aegon, but he would never turn his back on him. He would never betray his brother, be would never try to take his crown from him.

Aegon was far from being a perfect man and king, but, as we know, it was his love for his family, and the fear of them getting hurt that made him a more responsible person and a more protective father, husband and brother. Sure, he is a cheater, but at least he’s honest about it and doesn’t lie to his wife. He is not a hypocrite.

Criston is working for Alicent not for ambition or for self-gain, but because he genuinely loves her, whether it’s romantic or platonic, doesn’t matter.

Helaena would never betray her family, her brothers, her mother. They are all she has. She would never switch sides even if given an opportunity.

And even Otto, arguably one of the main villains of the whole show, still loves his family. Sure, he is ambitious, but he would never become Corlys level of ambitious.

Team Green feels like they are fighting against the enemy all together, they have the same goals, they feel united and you can feel their devotion to each other. Especially after blood and cheese, when they become closer than ever. They’re in this together and only if they stick to each other, they can make it. It feels genuine and honest. They don’t hide anything from each other, they always have their loved ones’ best interests at heart, they would never in a million years betray each other. Yes, they are all doomed from the start, but their dedication and love to each other is truly something else.

[aemondwhoresworld]

JACAERYS VELARYON IDEAS RECCOMENDATION!

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!tarlarys! reader x baela targaryen (*) | angst to fluff, happy ending, jace has 2 wifes (you can add more to it)

*MUST READ: reader is also have Valyrian blood and she also rides a dragon. the Tarlarys and Targaryen families are great-distant relatives, so in this plot, there is no incestuous relationship between Jacaerys and reader! lady Baela Targaryen is already pregnant in this idea/story.

mae: yea i know i made up the tarlarys noble house but you can change it to your own noble house name ⭐️ i wish my english is better, or maybe more about the vocab 🥲 literally wanted to write a fiction myself 😭 anyways most of my ideas are suitable for like a series/ multi-part kind of.

warning: this is just an ideas, not a full imagine/ fic/ one-shot so if any writers here want to write a fic base on this idea, all name can be change to fit your story, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO USE IT! 🤗✨| i wrote this idea based on this scence 👇

! A FEW SMALL NOTES :

rhaenyra being a kind mother-in-law

no hate relationship between baela and y/n

in this idea the friendship between y/n and baela is a good friendship, but in terms of closeness, it is only at the social level, helping each other when needed.

the way y/n treats jace and baela’s two children also comes from her love for children. maybe y/n often spend a lot of time embroidering for their kids. because she also wanted a child herself so that’s why

of course there will be intimate between both jace and y/n on the wedding night.

- 1 MONTH BEFORE THE BATTLE BETWEEN TEAM BLACK & GREEN HAPPEN

in this story Jace marries 2 wives, the first wife is Lady Baela Targaryen married out of love and the second wife is Lady Y/n Tarlarys out of duty.

at this time, Baela and Jace already had 2 daughters (both inherited all the beauty of both targaryen, strong features). Jace and Y/n still haven’t had children yet, of course Jace has no intention of giving his seed to his second ladywife.

talk more about y/n's personality, i potraits her as a strong women who does not show how her feeling outside, but is a bit humble and y/n also has a personality abit weird like Helaena, a bit strange, but overall she still has her own unique characteristics because she has pure Valyrian blood.

the story will begin when team black is negotiating (like the scene in the GIF), then y/n steps in, instead of the person riding on dragon's back to go into battle is Rhaenys, the one who volunteers to go into battle is Y/n. because she thinks she is an ‘not so important’ person in this family, but then also come from the pressure from her own family, the Tarlarys caused after a long time of marriage, Y/n still has no news anything about having Jace’s child in her womb, or Jace's heir. therefore, it led to an argument between Jace and Y/n about this issue, when Jace said harsh words to Y/n such as "You will never have a chance to get carry by heir, only Baela". that’s why she think the best that she disapear or maybe dead

i will go through the scene of the battle between the dragons, and in this situation Y/n did not die but was only slightly injured but not significantly. when Y/n returned to Dragonstone, she didn't want to meet Jace or anyone, perhaps in this moment when she spent all her time on herself, thinking for herself, she somehow decided to end this marriage and she also asked her father not to try to withdraw his alliance because of her respect for Queen Rhaenyra and also because of she think Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the iron throne, not Aegon.

while waiting for a response from her father, there was a cold war between Jace and her as things gradually became more tense not a single word between them, but at the most devasted moment, Y/n finally found comfort when she became pregnant, when she learned about the babe, that the only person that Y/n told was Queen Rhaenyra, Y/n also told the truth about the absent marriage between her and Jace that only happened in 1 month like that with Rhaenyra.

maybe after their talk, Rhaenyra has told Jace about what Y/n has said and from there Jace realized her sacrifices for this family, although at this time Jace still saw her as redundant but because of her, being pregnant, Jace has gradually spent time with Y/n, although not too much, but still has time for her during the day or night. in addition, Jace also wrote a letter for the crow to send to the Tarlarys House with the hope that Y/n's father would not accept her request to annul this marriage, because Jace knew that if her father agreed and didn't know about her pregnant, when the child being born this child of his might be called 'Bastard' and of course Jace didn't want any of his children to be called that because he himself had been be like that before.

gradually, as Jace spent more and more time with Y/n, it was time for feelings to blossom, but when Y/n just felt the love from Jace, that small hope was turned off when Jace learned about Baela was also pregant with their third babe, from then on Jace seemed to disappear from Y/n's sight until Y/n went into labor and gave birth alone, after giving birth to the child. Rhaenyra came to meet Jace's first son with brown hair, slightly curly, holding the child, looking at the child with love and affection because when Rhaenyra looked at the child him she remembered her late son, Lucaerys. Jacaerys late younger brother (possibly naming the child Lucaerys Velaryon after Jace's late brother)

time passed when Lucaerys was now 3 years old, there were times when Jace would spend with Lucaerys, it could be said that for 3 years, the feelings between Y/n for Jace were always the same, always loyal towards Jace, and Jace gradually fell in love with Y/n but he never told Y/n, thus making Y/n misunderstand that Jace only cared about her because of Lucaerys. Maybe when one time while having dinner with the family, Lucaerys just ask Jace about why he don’t have any siblings, which make him feel bad so that’s when Y/n decided to sit down and talk clearly, about everything, everythings that had happen in the past 3 years, all about her loneliness and also to admitting her feelings for Jace, and maybe Jace also told her the truth. followed by days when Jace always tried to make up for Y/n about all the time that he treats her.

[vaokses]

Never enough for both (Pirtir, Ch.4)

Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Both sides of the family are reunited in King's Landing to formally announce the betrothal and start the celebrations leading up to the wedding.

Word Count: 7.7k (sorry, if long chapters like this bother you, I can try to make future ones shorter or divide them in parts, let me know)

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Hints at alcohol consumption in unhealthy manners. I love Maris Baratheon, so she's here, though not in all her glory as she's not taunting a man into kinslaying, sadly. ✨Childhood Companions✨. Both sides of this family are messy and annoying, and I hope I showed that properly here.

A/N: Sorry for the late update! I think I'll change uploads for this story to Sundays instead of Saturdays. Hope you enjoy!

This chapter includes some stuff also mentioned/explained in How long this love can hold its breath, a prequel oneshot in Aegon's perspective.

Title is from "So, here you are, too foreign for home, too foreign for here. Never enough for both." By Ljeoma Umebinyuo.

Your morning tea with the Queen is followed by the announcement that the Velaryon fleet -and by extension your family- can be seen quickly approaching the city, with six dragons flying alongside the boats. 

You got to meet the Velaryons that arrive on the port, which are the ones sailing from Driftmark, as your mother and the rest have decided to enter the city through the Dragonpit. To your surprise, Corlys is there to greet you, after a long absence at sea. 

Baela makes very unsubtle attempts to return to the Keep on your carriage with you alone, so after a quick greeting of Princess Rhaenys and the Sea Snake, you promise to meet with them later and enter the carriage with Baela. 

Sitting across from her, you keep silent as you watch her, as you notice her uncharacteristically falter, lowering her eyes to her fidgeting hands.  

“Corlys and Rhaenys aren’t getting along, for obvious reasons. They aren’t the only ones,” She informs you. “Daemon and your mother are…at odds with one another.” 

“And you know this how, exactly?” 

“I can hear the shouting all the way from Driftmark,” She jests, the glint of defiant humor shining in her dark eyes. A breath, and she explains, “Rhaena sent a raven, told me that father was furious that this was allowed to go on.” 

“‘This’?” 

“Your marriage to Aegon.” 

“But it has been months in the planning.” 

“Perhaps Daemon hoped for an…alternate solution to present itself,” She shrugs, “We both know Father would have sent you here to kill him, not marry him.” 

You chuckle humorlessly, “I shall be on the lookout for new orders, then.” 

Instead of joking along, Baela turns to you then, dark eyes slightly narrowed. 

“Would you follow such orders?” 

You offer a smile again, but you know better than to expect her to fold. 

Still, you attempt, “Did Daemon give you orders to ask this?” 

“No, I’m just…curious. If he had ordered you to kill them, any of them, of your…childhood companions, would you have?” 

“It is a bit late to send Vermithor and I against Sunfyre and Aegon, or Dreamfyre and Helaena. We’d win, though.” 

“Undoubtedly. But that wasn’t what I asked.” 

“Daemon has issued no orders.” 

She is more alike her father than she knows, especially when she’s on a hunt. They track weakness like bloodhounds, and they don’t cease on their chase once they’ve caught a scent. 

She presses, “Perhaps because he knows you wouldn’t obey.” 

“I have always done as was asked of me.” 

“Have you?” Baela asks. While you admire her spirit, you do not intend to entertain accusations, and you turn to her with a glare that she smiles at. Bowing her head slightly, she amends, “I am not implying disloyalty, I just…I think you believe yourself less…unyielding than you actually are. I think you don’t like to admit you have ambitions of your own.” 

It is difficult for you, even now, to push back the voice that reminds you that you have been too careless, too trusting, and you have allowed Baela to see more than she should have, more than it was useful for her to see. To lie well you must never be defined or remembered, Lady Mysaria told you years ago, an ordinary face is lost in a crowd. 

And despite Baela being one of the only people you’ve been able to count on as a constant, despite the fact that by blood and love you are bound to one another, despite knowing deep in your bones that you can count on her to have your back come what may; you resent the realization that she sees in you something you didn’t intend for her to, something that isn’t useful for her to see. You do not know what to do, at the threat that she might have seen you, and might have remembered you. 

“My ambitions are to support my House and my mother. I have done only what was asked of me.” 

“Were you asked to promise love to Alasdair Tyrell in order to have him sail to the Shield Islands and turn them to your cause? Were you asked to use Cragan Stark’s…friendship with Jacaerys to force his hand when he refused to offer a proposal of marriage?”  

If Alasdair Tyrell hadn’t sailed to the Shield Islands with the Redwyne fleet and turned them to your cause, you would have no solid argument against Lady Mysaria and her wish to marry you to him. If Cregan Stark hadn’t issued a proposal of marriage you would have had to trust only in your mother’s choices to keep the North. Either alternative would mean relinquishing control, would mean uncertainty, powerlessness, and you were unwilling to even entertain the possibility. 

“I did not lie to Alasdair, my affections were honest,” At her look, you concede, “I care for him, even if I do not love him. And I merely…discussed with Cregan the realities of our expectations of one another, which he found agreeable enough to issue a proposal.” 

“Hm,” There’s a smile on her lips that she learned neither from her father or her mother, but from her grandmother. The smile of a spider with an insect caught on its web. “How convenient, then, that in your honesty you earned yourself the Reach and the North.” 

“I don’t appreciate accusations,” You dismiss, rolling your eyes at her answering chuckle. “When Vaemond plotted with Oldtown to challenge my brother’s claim to the Salt Throne, it was you who asked me to deal with it, it was you who told Daeron Velaryon I was to entertain his proposal of marriage to get him to share his father’s secrets.” 

“You choose to embody a weapon, and you mind being wielded?” She asks, hints of laughter still clinging to her tone. Baela shrugs one shoulder. “I am not judging you, so you can stop glaring at me. If anything, I admire it.” 

“Do you?” 

“While Vhagar lives, you are not yet the greatest power in the Realm. Daemon would have you kill the hoary old bitch, and I might agree with his strategy, but…I commend you for yours.” 

“Hm.” 

She chuckles again, “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Pout when I remind you of a truth you mislike hearing,” She says, “Gods, you and your brother are more alike than you like to admit, did you know?” 

All too eager to put an end to this conversation, you divert it towards Jace, and say, 

“My mother should be arriving soon with Daemon, Rhaena, and my brothers. The Queen said they are to…start the celebrations today, if the King is well enough.” 

“Is it too much to ask that they don’t arrive at all? None of your brothers should be coming here, not to mention our sister.” 

“Your s-…” 

Baela dismisses your words with a gesture of her hand, “Don’t bother.” 

You decide not to fight this unending battle today at least, and lean your head back against the seat, regarding her quietly for a few moments.  

“They have no choice but to be here, it would send the wrong message if my family fails to attend my wedding,” You say, but she presses her lips together, answering with nothing but a short grunt. “What troubles you, Baela?” 

“There are too many of us together in the same place,” She tells you, as if it is obvious. She looks out at the passing streets. “I doubt an eye is all someone will lose this time.” 

Your brow furrows. 

“You worry me.” 

She offers only a smile in return, confident and sly. 

“I assure you it is mutual, sister.” 

“Stop that.” 

“Make me.” 

 ___ 

Your mother and brothers -and you assume Daemon alongside them, you haven’t seen him as of yet- choose to spend the better part of the morning and noon with your grandsire. They remain by him as the gathering of members of the Great and Noble Houses of Westeros on the Keep grows, the highborn within the Keep and the lowborn outside of it waiting for their King to announce his son’s wedding celebrations, to write in stone the union they have known or suspected about for months now. 

Your eye catches on Mina Redwyne, second eldest of House Redwyne, as she talks with two of the Four Storms. Well, your eye doesn’t catch on her, but on the deep emerald dress she has chosen to wear. 

She notices your eyes on her, and turns to you with the clear intent to approach you. 

Turning to accept the servants offered glass of wine, you look at Baela, Rhaena, and Rhaenys and mouth save me. Before they can answer with anything other than the laugh Baela hides behind her hand, the ladies reach you. 

“Princess,” Mina greets, echoed by Maris and Cassandra Baratheon. “My congratulations on your betrothal. May the Seven bless you both.” 

You nod with a little hum, taking a sip of wine to try and dislodge the knot in your throat. It hasn’t gotten any easier to hear people speak of your betrothal, even now, just shy of having the King announce seven days of festivities before the wedding is to take place. 

“Thank you, my Lady,” You agree, smile in place, “It seems the both of us meet only for wedding celebrations as of late. First your brother’s in the Arbor, and now mine.” 

“How could I forget?” She replies. “In a sea of green and burgundy, there you were, wearing red. I can’t say I recall you ever wearing something that wasn’t red. Or black.” 

Of course she hasn’t, there was a reason for your tour and everything about it, from the servants that accompanied you to the clothes you were, were planned in order to send a message. And she knows that. 

Doing your best to mask the tiredness at the game she has only just started, you smile and say, 

“I am proud to wear my House’s colors. As any Lady should.” 

“Not all of us can afford to, Princess,” Maris Baratheon reminds you, sly smile curving at her lips, eyes trailing over Lady Mina’s green dress. “What with the mad race to be married off like cattle and all that.” 

“Hey.” You complain, gesturing with your free hand. 

Maris merely laughs, quite close to a witch’s cackle, and clinks her glass of wine against yours. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” She mocks. Her brow furrows, and her eyes divert to somewhere over your shoulder as she pretends to look for someone. “Though I believe it is your betrothed I am to extend my congratulations to? The man won a race he wasn’t even participating on, after all.” 

“You shouldn’t scorn the ways of court. You will soon be searching for a husband, sister.” Lady Cassandra, Borros Baratheon’s eldest, points out. 

“Or I could do as you do, and sulk for the rest of my days, mourning a rejection even a blind man could have seen coming,” Maris quips in response, and you share a look at the blatant insult with Lady Mina, for a moment your own quarrel forgotten. “Mother does always say I should follow your example.” 

“I’d dare say it takes more than a shared name for you to be equal to your sister, Lady Maris,” Mina quips, coming to Cassandra’s defense without a second thought. “Your House’s name was not enough to warrant you the proposals Lady Cassandra has received, was it?” 

You care much more about keeping Maris Baratheon, the cleverest of the Four Stroms and the daughter who currently holds Lord Borros’ ear, on your side than appeasing a daughter of House Redwyne. Mina has spent her life on the shadow of the Hightower, you know her alliances won’t change. 

So, making sure to keep your tone civil, but firm, you point out, 

“Some aspire to more than marriage, my Lady,” You say. “Lady Maris has much to offer her House, she can be more than a vessel for an alliance.” 

“Unlike others.” Maris bites out, cold gaze set on the other woman. Each time you spend time with her in court you realize why her mother threatens to cut off her tongue so often. 

“All women eventually have no choice but to bend, Princess,” Mina reminds you. Her gaze drops to the rubies on your dress and she adds, “Even women like you.” 

If your smile betrays something more honest, something closer to poison, then so be it. 

“There are no women like me.” 

Maris barks a short laugh, improper and unladylike, “You still believe humility to be a wasted effort, I take it?” 

“On the contrary, I find it admirable,” You lie, sharing a smile with the second eldest of House Baratheon. She returns a smile in kind, a little crooked but honest. You continue with yet another lie, “I just believe honesty is paramount when speaking amongst friends.” 

Lady Redwyne loses none of the edge, and the way her shoulders are drawn up in tension, ruffling the fabric of her dress, reminds you of a puffed-up bird. 

“We are to speak honestly, then?” 

“I dare say that sounds like a threat, Lady Mina.” Maris taunts, lifting the cup of wine to her lips and looking at the daughter of House Redwyne over the rim of her glass. 

“Of course,” You answer Mina’s question. With a small shrug, you prompt, “Speak with honesty, I wish t-…” 

You are interrupted by a hand resting on the small of your back, startling you into silence. You turn with wide eyes towards Aegon, now standing by your side, hand brazenly on you. 

“My Ladies,” He greets, brazenly false charm on display. He turns to you and bows his head slightly in greeting, “Princess.” 

“My Prince.” Lady Mina is the first to greet, and your appalment at his lack of care for manners is forgotten at the sight of her attempt at charm. Your eyes narrow towards her, but you say nothing. 

“You wouldn’t mind if I stole my betrothed from you for a while, would you?” 

The ladies acquiesce with mumbled goodbyes and promises to speak with you again after the King’s speech is delivered. You sincerely hope they cannot find you. 

Aegon leads you away from them and towards another part of the vast hall where the nobles gather, hand still boldly resting on your back. You make a point to take a step to the left, away from him, and point out,  

“It isn’t appropriate to touch me in public. We aren’t yet married.” 

“Would you prefer that I touch you in private? Because th-…” 

“It isn’t appropriate to ask that.” You interrupt, but a smile is foolishly tugging at the corners of your lips, and he notices, because his own smile widens. You look away. 

“No one expects me to behave appropriately.” 

You frown, very pointedly avoiding the eyes of the Queen and her brother as you pass them by. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then I’d disappoint you sooner than I intend to.” 

As you walk into the gardens, you stop in your pace and turn on your side to face him. hands joined behind your back, your head tilted to the side, you ask,  

“Do you intend to disappoint me?” 

He shrugs slightly, a downward curve of his mouth as he considers your question. 

“An inevitability,” He retorts. A breath, and Aegon offers an arm for you to take. An appropriate gesture, followed by an appropriate title, “Princess.” 

It shouldn’t endear you, it really shouldn’t. And yet you furrow your lips to hide a smile as you take the offered arm and let him guide you through the inner gardens of the Keep. 

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” You ask, “You did ‘borrow’ me from the delightful company of those ladies.” 

“Not…exactly.” 

Gods, he is such a terrible liar. You mull over is answer, his actions, for a few breaths, as you walk through the busy room towards the gates to the gardens. 

“How many of those women have you fucked, that it worries you that I speak with them?” You blurt out, careful to keep your voice low, almost a whisper. You will tell yourself that the strange edge in your tone, what sounds even to you like jealousy, was part of a game, was intentional. “I know of the…activities you partake in. Court gossip may not speak about my indiscretions, but it does speak about yours.” 

“None of them,” He answers plainly. A breath, a moment of hesitation, a restless movement stalled by the weight of your hand on the crook of his arm, and Aegon turns to look at you. There’s something raw, in his slightly widened eyes, in the expectant expression. “Do you believe me?” 

You cannot help but think back on the previous night, and the careless way he gave away secrets he should have kept guarded, the way he seemed not to care that he is baring vulnerabilities with each breath, with each look. And you have this irrational and sudden anger at him for it, for this stupid bravery, this weakness, this rough honesty. 

More than anything, you are angry at the part of you that envies him for it, for being unable to wear anything but his true face. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” You answer without thinking. You aren’t sure if you’re lying or not. 

“I can think of many reasons.” Aegon retorts, wry smile curving at his lips. 

He doesn’t say anything else, and his attention returns to the gardens around you. It seems only then he notices the unsubtle way the lords and ladies scattered about keep staring at the both of you. 

“No one of noble blood is happy with this union,” You point out before he can say anything, “Every young knight and lord in the Seven Kingdoms is cursing your name, most likely. They wanted…well, it varied, but ultimately they all wanted their blood on the Iron Throne. In marrying me, you denied them of that chance.” 

“I know about being denied what I want most, but I doubt they would care about my sympathy.” 

“Do you?” You ask, the beginning of a smile curving at your lips. “What, as eldest son of a King, as a Targaryen Prince, have you been denied?” 

“You.” 

He answers so bluntly, as if the truth is without its weight, as if it is obvious, as if it isn’t dangerous to admit such a thing, that you are stunned into silence for a breath. 

“You never told me,” You say, “Before I left, you never told me of what you had attempted.” 

“Why does it matter? It wasn’t enough, it didn’t change anything,” You have the errant thought that it might have changed things, it might have changed you, if you had known, if he had told you. You say nothing though, and Aegon continues, thoughts spilling past his lips with no need for wine to loosen his tongue, truths being shared like grains of sand escaping from closed fists, “Refusing them all this time didn’t change anything either, you were still-…But I did it anyways. I was always slow to learn, wasn’t I?” 

A knot forms somewhere in your throat, something unnamed lodged in your chest. Because he is implying more than having merely asked to marry you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“My mother and Otto attempted to make arrangements, to betroth me to some lady or another, many times. I always refused them,” He shrugs, as if any of this can be easily dismissed, as if it doesn’t matter. An act, a mask of carelessness, but you notice the tension in his frame, the way his free arm is moving as if he’s fidgeting, hand opening and closing in nervous movements. “They refused to let me marry you, so I refused to marry anyone. 

“I-I didn’t…I didn’t know.” 

“You never asked.” 

“Why?” You ask, because you might have never asked before, but you have to ask now. 

“I didn’t think it would change anything, I just…I couldn’t imagine it, a-a future beside anyone but you.” 

Your chest pulls tight, and it is once again that overwhelming feeling of the night before, when he admitted to having asked for your hand before you left for Dragonstone. That feeling of flying on dragon back and falling, and landing harshly, and nearly missing a cliff. 

And the words, the accusation, to him or to yourself, you aren’t sure, rush past your lips,  

“You didn’t think of saying any of this sooner? Send a letter, something?” 

“And say what, exactly?” Aegon retorts, “That I asked to marry you, for a-a way to keep you, and was refused as if I were nothing but a boy asking for the impossible? That while you were away, forgetting me, I was still-…that I couldn’t forget? That’s all there is to it, I couldn’t forget.” 

Your eyes flicker between his, and he doesn’t bother hiding an old anger, an older hurt, and they both shine so clearly in his gaze now. Your breath stutters past your lips before any words an attempt to. 

“It wasn’t-…” 

“I told you, I wasn’t expecting it to change anything. I knew-…I know it changes nothing.” 

“And yet we are less than an hour away from our betrothal being announced.” 

“Your doing, not mine.” He retorts without missing a beat, and your short laugh does make a smile almost curve at his lips. It shouldn’t make you proud, the sight shouldn’t make you feel this strange yet welcomed nervousness. 

“If those ladies aren’t scorned lovers of yours, why the unsubtle attempt at keeping me from their company?” You ask, but more than ever it feels as if you’re playing a part. It is a familiar strategy to you, keeping a conversation going while you try to get a hold of yourself again. For the first time since you were sent away, you doubt you can. 

“The court isn’t…fond of me. Ladies like them, anyone here really, they’ll say things about me, things that are…true, even if I don’t want them to be,” He admits. Now it is you who is left looking at him while Aegon intently looks ahead. “If I can, I’d like to speak first. I just…I don’t want this to change.” 

The world has changed, long ago, for you. When you were forced to open your eyes to the truth of your and your brothers’ parentages, when you were promised your very life was at risk if your mother’s claim was not secured, when you were ordered into the Chamber of the Painted Table and instructed on what your use would be going forward and sent off to tour Westeros. 

The world changed, irrevocably, devastatingly, long ago, and it is no longer the world where you followed Helaena and Dreamfyre into the skies or the world where Aegon managed to make you laugh until you cried. The world has changed. 

The world has changed, and yet in your mind only lingers the recent knowledge that he refused to marry unless it was you, that you dedicated all you are and more to forget the foolish promises you made and he so carelessly held on to them, chose to remember them. Remember you. 

The world has changed, and yet he still feels familiar, he still seems to you the man you once knew, who could not keep a secret to save his life, who drank wine like it was a medicine drought, who managed to care deeply and not care at all in the same breath. 

And perhaps that is why you speak so carelessly now, so honestly now, 

“It doesn’t have to.” 

Silence lingers, and you are desperate for a way to fill it, to purge from your mind the thoughts that race in your head and the pointless feelings bubbling in your chest at Aegon’s admission that he refused to marry anyone else after he was denied a chance to marry you. But once again you find yourself uncertain on how to go on, on how to play. 

If Aegon is to say anything at all, it is stopped by a call from the Kingsguard for all to return inside the Keep, as the King is to join you all soon. 

The Kingsguard that made the announcement -you recognize him, he is the one sworn to Queen Alicent- bows once, but remains there, expectant, demanding. 

You and Aegon share a look, reminiscent of both that look as he took you to fly on Sunfyre for the first time, and of that last look as you mounted Vermithor and set to fly away to Dragonstone. 

___ 

You barely hear your grandsire’s words, though you do notice the way his voice is stronger, his frame standing taller, than the nights before. He welcomes the Houses to the Keep, he talks about years of strife in the House of the Dragon being put to rest, he announces your marriage to his eldest son, and yet you can only think about what Aegon so recklessly revealed to you. About what it means, about how he felt, about how he remembers you, about how he feels.

A part of you reminds you that when Lady Mysaria pushed you to marry Alasdair Tyrell, you constructed a lie and sent him off to conquer the Shield Islands in your name, to prove to her that you needn’t marry while at peace. That part of you reminds you that your threat to feed to Vermithor whoever they tried marrying you off to wasn’t a lie, that you meant it with everything that was left in you. 

The King collapses back into his seat, and even at the sight of his frailty the crowds continue in their cheer. Lady Mysaria explained to you long ago about the weight a full belly will have on the opinions of both noble and commoner, and how Viserys’ reign is but proof of that very fact. It is the reason she wanted you to marry a Tyrell, to secure the Reach, the most fertile region of the Realm. 

“I am no longer a young man, and it is no news to anyone that the years have weighed on me,” He admits, voice still somehow carrying in the cavernous room. A pale, bruised hand reaches for your mother’s, and he squeezes her hand in his before adding, “It will be Princess Rhaenyra, my daughter and heir, who will preside over the festivities to come in my stead.” 

The intention behind putting your mother, and not his wife or his Hand, as the one to act in his stead during the days to come is not lost on you, the support he once again reinstates over your mother and her claim impossible to ignore. 

You venture a glance at the Queen, and though you will admit she is not a bad player, she does not easily hide her emotions as well as other ladies of the court do. Yet now, neither surprise nor offense sour her expression, and you could swear there’s calm in the deep breath that rises and drops her shoulders. 

“I’ll endeavor to live up to your example, father.” 

“I shall hope these celebrations are only the beginning of a new age of joy and prosperity for us all,” He says, smile wide and kind. He turns to you and Aegon, and you stare back with wide eyes, because in your head resonates like a war drum, I couldn’t forget. “And I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you both.” 

___ 

The Grand Maester sent word that the King would not be well enough to join you all at the dinner to welcome your family to the Keep, and though you truly wanted to ask what was the point of such dinner if your grandsire -the only one to wish for such a reunion- was not to be in attendance, you bit your tongue and let the handmaidens ready you for it. 

It is a striking difference, that of tonight and your first night here. Where before everyone was stiffly held to their seats by the presence of the King alone, now you walk into the room and find small clusters of people talking and joking with one another. It is a tad cruel, that the one so intent on uniting them has done nothing but create further division. 

Though, the division remains. Alicent and her father sit by one another and speak in hushed whispers, while your mother stands by the other end of the table with Rhaena and Princess Rhaenys. The rest are equally divided, with your father and Baela standing by a corner and observing them all carefully, your brothers sitting together and speaking with Vaemond and Corlys, and Alicent’s children standing together on the other end of the table. 

But at least now they look like people. Dreadful people, who make it horribly hard to tolerate them, much less love them, but people. Not figurines, as unmovable and as easily cracked as Viserys’ marble ones. 

At the errant thought that lingers on your grandsire’s model of Old Valyria, you find yourself eyeing the table, and you find, unsurprisingly, a napkin folded into the shape of a dragon. 

It seems you were the last to arrive, as they all move to sit now. You let the servants guide you to the middle of the long table, sitting you right in front of your mother and Queen Alicent.  

Baela takes the seat at your right, and you are grateful, for you are certain she knows as well as you that you will be sitting across from two women at war. 

Jacaerys approaches your left side, but Aegon is faster, and when your brother pulls back the chair, your betrothed sits on it before he can. 

Aegon turns to your brother with a mocking smile, and lifts his cup in a mock toast. 

“Thank you, nephew.” 

The taunt is childish, but it is enough to irritate Jace regardless. He shares a look with Baela, and moves to sit beside Aegon, while Helaena takes the last seat of this side of the table, sitting between Jace and Aemond, who sits at the head of the table. 

You watch as your mother and Alicent engage in yet another verbal battle, speaking in the language only those who once loved one another can speak; keeping you all a captive audience. 

She shouldn’t have come here, so far from the wedding. It was a mistake to come here, not to mention bringing Daemon and your brothers with her. 

Lucerys eyes the roasted pig brought to the table and then looks at Aemond with cruel mirth shining in his dark eyes. Thankfully your grandsire, the Sea Snake, has the good sense to smack him on the back of his head and snap him out of any foolish ideas about taunting your uncle before you see yourself in need to do the same. 

You are starting to think no one in this family has been capable of an intelligent choice or has formulated a coherent plan since your mother had you flee King’s Landing and left her father’s court to the Hightowers. And for the first time, you are glad you were sent away for those two years instead of being made to stay and try and manage this madness as Jace has been forced to do, the eldest in your absence. 

“I defy my own father’s counsel in permitting this union, Rhaenyra. Do not confuse my faults with those of the men of my blood, or I will extend the same courtesy to you.” 

Dark eyes flicker to Daemon, who answers to her implication with a mocking little giggle, leaning back on his chair and crossing his hands over his stomach. 

“It is not your father’s faults that make me wary, Your Grace,” Your mother argues, the title a reminder, and it is only then that you notice Alicent referred to her by her name. She continues, “But the cruelty and injustice you imposed on my children, for years on end.” 

Alicent’s brow furrows, eyes wide with the frenzied affront of that night in Driftmark. 

“You dare speak of cruelty, when your savage sons took Aemond’s eye?” 

“I do wish they would give me some credit. I did land a few good hits on him.” Baela, sitting by your side, mutters, quiet enough that only you hear. Still, you move your foot under the table and stomp on hers in reprimand.  

She answers with a little laugh that is entirely a mirror of her father’s, and you hiss a command for her to be quiet, but she grabs your hand in hers and, with laughter still clinging to her tone, issues quietly the High Valyrian for be calm, lykirī. 

Unaware of the small exchange between you and Baela, unaware, it seems, to the entire world beyond one another, your mother and Alicent go on in their argument, in their battle of words and of silences only themselves understand. 

Your mother’s smile is a lie, a mockery, as she shakes her head, dismissing, or perhaps refusing, whatever it is the Queen has said. Rhaenyra lifts the cup to her lips and takes a slow sip of wine, putting the cup down and only then speaking again, voice calm and yet cold. 

“You do not trust me, or my family. I understand this. It is why you wouldn’t marry Helaena to Jacaerys when I proposed it,” She turns to her oldest friend then, and a part of you wishes to berate her, to hide her then, because in your mother’s gaze there’s too much truth revealed. “Can you blame me for holding the same reservations as you did, now that I must entrust my daughter, my only daughter, to your care?” 

Alicent answers with the faintest shake of her head, as if the mere idea of what your mother fear is unthinkable. She adjusts her posture, unmoving again. Though not in the way a stone statue is unmoving, but in the way thin ice is.  

“A mother’s sins are not her daughter’s.” 

Whatever it is your mother is to answer with, if anything at all, is interrupted by Daemon’s laughter, cold and mocking. 

“How easily you change your tune, now that the noose tightens around your neck.”  

Alicent’s expression sours in disgust at the mere sound of Daemon’s voice, and she refuses to entertain his accusation with a response. Her eyes, warm and sad, linger on your mother for a few breaths, before she abandons the fight and straightens in her seat. 

Your mother shouldn’t have come here, not when she longs for peace yet the man at her side dreams of bloodied hands placing a crown upon her brow; not when her sons and Alicent’s long for violence and chaos as young men are allowed to; not when all she has done, all any of them have done, is pull you in warring directions, demanding and demanding and demanding. 

You down the last of your wine, resting your empty cup on the table and drumming your nails restlessly on the glass. 

Leaning closer to Laena’s oldest who sits at your left, you gesture with your chin at an open window. 

“If I were to fling myself from that window, you gather Vermithor is fast enough to catch me before I reach the ground?” You ask Baela, who hides a smile behind her cup as she lifts it to take a sip from her wine. 

Your jest with your sister is interrupted as someone leans closer to you. You turn to watch as Aegon, sitting beside you and pitcher of wine in hand, refills your cup. 

“No, but Sunfyre might be,” He answers, as if it were him you asked that question to. At your look, he shrugs, though a smile plays at his lips. “Just say the word.” 

Stupidly, more carelessly than you should allow yourself, you find yourself smiling back as you watch him lean back in his chair. 

Your smile falls when you turn to see the expectant face of your half-sister, who stares with wide eyes and raised brows. Baela demands an explanation without even parting her lips, and you merely shrug in response. 

Uncomfortable silence falls upon you all once again as your mother’s and Alicent’s quarrel comes to an end for now. You lean closer to Baela again and whisper, 

“What does it say of me, that I am considering the offer?” 

“I know not what it says about you, but it says quite a lot about this horrid evening.” 

You lean back in your seat, eyeing the people in the room, forced together by the wishes and fantasies of a dying man, bound together more so by the shared wounds that the shared love or blood. 

“First of many.” 

“Could I convince you to marry Aegon in the ways of our House and save us all from this circus?” Baela prompts. Dark eyes divert over your shoulder, and apparently deeming it safe enough, she adds, quieter, “Or to kill him? Either way, I can gift you the dragonglass for the deed.” 

She draws a short laugh from you. 

“It concerns me that you have come armed.” 

Your half-sister turns to you, a truly affronted look in her eyes, and whispers, “It concerns me that you haven’t. If I am to leave you here, I would do so knowing you have the means to protect yourself.” 

You shrug, “I have Vermithor.” 

“He doesn’t fit in a dining room.” 

“And I need no protection when breaking bread, cousin.” 

Baela’s smile makes her eyes narrow, and she clinks her glass against yours as she advices,  

“You should ease on the wine. Usually you can lie better than that.” 

“Shouldn’t you be tormenting my brother about trade in Spicetown? Or about those dignitaries from Asshai you mentioned?” You ask with a tired sigh, but still a slow smile curves at your own lips. 

“Shouldn’t you be walking about, charming hosts and guests alike? Almost two years of one diplomatic visit after another, I doubt you spent them like this.” 

“There was something I wanted from those Lords and Ladies. All I want from our family is an uneventful evening.” 

She scoffs, “You’ll sooner bring The Cannibal to heel.” 

The tension between your mother and Alicent seems to lessen, or at the very least become more manageable, as the dinner goes on. The room is filled with the murmur of ongoing conversations, and you are enjoying some pastry with what tastes like candied figs within it when Baela leans closer again and talks by your ear. 

“Speaking of tormenting your brother,” Baela motions with her chin towards your left side. “I gather he’s much better at it than I.” 

You turn to follow her gaze, and find Aegon leaning closer to your brother, who sits straight, frame coiled with tension. Aegon mutters something only your brother can hear, gesturing with his hand, elbow resting on the table. 

“You will hold your tongue when speaking of my sister, or I will cut it off.” Jace threatens, but it seems to fall flat, for Aegon doesn’t even move away, and the sly smile on his lips only grows. 

“I’ll still have my fingers,” Aegon replies with a shrug that only makes your brother further enraged. “Not to mention my c-…” 

“Please stop talking.” Helaena interrupts, nose furrowed in disgust. 

To your surprise, Otto Hightower laughs at his granddaughter’s words, with more warmth you ever believed him capable off. You don’t think you ever remember hearing him laugh before. 

Your disbelief only grows when the Lord Hand move his chair slightly closer to his daughter’s to make room for Helaena to sit beside him and opposite of Aegon and Jace, an offer the Princess takes without a moment of hesitation. 

Jace keeps his eyes on the table before him, both hands on the table and curled into fists, “Cease playing the jester, Aegon. All here know that the mere idea that a man like you is to wed my sister is enough of a joke.” 

“Jace.” Your mother attempts, but you doubt even she believes her attempt at chastising your brother. 

“Our family has wed us to one another for generations. To keep our bloodline pure,” Prince Aemond points out, eye sharp as it focuses on your brother. “I don’t expect you to understand, nephew, but-…” 

“What is it you are implying?” 

“Hm,” He muses, gaze piercing, calculating. “I mean only to point out that you and your sister weren’t married, as Baelon and Alyssa, as Jaehaerys and Alysanne were. It is quite apparent to me why, is it not to you?”

Jace moves to stand, and Aemond refuses to let the challenge go unanswered, returning the cup to the table to welcome your brother’s advance with empty hands.  

Looking across the table at your father, you silently beg him to interfere, but Daemon is entirely too preoccupied with Aemond, assessing him as who looks at a cyvasse table to plan their next move. 

“Speak these falsehoods at your peril, uncle.” 

“What falsehoods, hm?” He taunts, his cruelty sharp and honed like a sword, “We are family, both by bonds of blood and of marriage now. Isn’t it time we stop pretending?” 

A chair screeches against the wooden floor as Luke moves to stand as well, to defend himself as well, to answer to insult with violence. With a moment of hesitation with trepidation widening her dark eyes, Rhaena stands as well. 

“Sit.” Baela hisses the command, and to your surprise both of them obey without question. You’ve seen soldiers follow orders slower. 

It is only when he sits back down that you notice Aegon too was moving to stand, no doubt to defend his brother. You look at him with raised brows, and he answers to your unspoken question as to why he obeyed your Baela’s command with a gesture of his hands as if to say what else he is supposed to do. 

Amidst the tension and the madness, you find yourself resisting the urge to laugh, and shake your head, looking away from him. You notice the smile on his lips, though, even as he too turns his attention back to Baela. 

With one last glance spared at Rhaena and Luke, it is then that Baela turns her attention to Aemond. 

She has mastered the mocking and belittling look her father directs at his children whenever they defy him, and the slight smirk curving at her lips only manages to add insult to injury. 

Aemond shifts in his place, but refuses to give any ground. Instead of recognizing her challenge, her taunt, he turns his attention to your brother again. 

“Now your brother and stepsisters fight to defend you, nephew?” 

“It does your skill a disservice, My Prince, if you believe this a fight at all,” Baela retorts, the grace of her mother and the venom of her father. The way her eyes remain relentlessly trained on Aemond reminds you of a bird of prey on a hunt. “And a disservice to your family, if you mean to imply it is dishonorable that we defend our own.” 

A mocking little hm leaves Aemond’s lips, one-eyed gaze flickering between your brother and Baela. 

“You might wish to reconsider who you consider your own, My Lady,” He taunts. A breath, two, and then his sharp gaze turns to you, before he adds, “As your sister did.” 

“Excuse me?” You ask, but neither care for an argument about your true parentage, and to be honest, neither do you. It is only a few moments later that you understand the implication in his words, that you hear the certainty that your marriage to Aegon will earn them your loyalty. 

Baela scoffs, “You are more of an imbecile than I thought if you believe that.” 

“Baela!” Princess Rhaenys chastises, but she cares not for it. 

Aemond answers with mocking laugh that only enrages her further. 

The Queen reaches over the table and grasps for her son, fingers digging like claws into his arm as she hisses some words you do not hear. It seems he doesn’t either, for he shakes off his mother’s grip and turns to face your half-sister. 

“I see you do not deny it your shared blood with the Princess. Good for you, My Lady,” Aemond’s gaze turns from Baela to your brother, and a cruel twist of his lips aids the venom to drip from his words, “My dear nephew here could stand to learn to be prouder of his family.” 

What feels like a dozen voices start speaking at once then, accusations and insults from both sides, the elder voices -the voices at fault for this madness, attempting to bring hounds to heel long after they’ve tasted blood- attempting in vain to speak over the chaos. 

And in that moment, you are five and ten once again, Luke’s nose has been broken and Aemond’s eye taken, the smell of blood lingers in the air and shrill little voices argue, shouting over one another; and the King calls for silence but they don’t listen, bloodthirsty little beasts, what is left of children after a lifetime of licking their inherited wounds.  

But it has been years since then, and the wounds are now their own, made by their own hands and adorning their own bodies, in some more evidently than in others. They remain, however, as bloodthirsty as before. 

A passing comment by Otto Hightower is enough to make Daemon’s fist hit the table, and the two engage one another, trading verbal blows with a practice older than any of their children; while Vaemond Velaryon’s reaction to Aemond’s accusations make Corlys chastise his brother, starting yet another argument. 

A low call of your name draws your attention from the chaos erupting on every corner of this room, and you turn to your left to find Aegon has stood from the table, and is offering a hand to you. 

“Huh?” Your eyes dart between his hand and his eyes. He smiles, expectant and daring. 

He motions with his head to a small door the servants have used to come and go, an invitation. 

You only realized you have made your choice, that you let your hand slip into the offered hold of is, when you are being pulled into standing, when you are fighting back laughter as amidst the chaos you let him guide you out of the room and into the servant halls that run through the Keep. 

Thank you for reading! I hope this was alright, and at least worth the wait!

Also, to make this shorter I had to cut the “reunion” between Reader and Rhaenyra and Jace. If you’d like to read that, drop an ask or something and I’ll post it.

Next Chapter >>

Taglist: @21-princess @mrs-starkgaryen @nymeriiiia @akari-rioan @dottie-witch

[afro-hispwriter]

A Betrayal No More(final)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Velaryon!reader

Summary- Aemond has been thrown into the dungeons just hours after your death, but the blacks need Aemond and Aemond needs you. 

Warnings- angst ending with fluff, mentions of torture, murder, battle of the gullet comes wayy faster than it actually does lol, dragon death

Part 3 of the Betrayal mini-series 1 2

Wc-3.3k+

-

Aemond was thrown into the dungeons along with Criston. They quickly found out that wasn't a wise idea since it ended up with Aemond almost choking the man out. 

He's not sure how long he'd been down there but he's been questioned a lot. But Criston on the other hand has been tortured, daily. He heard his screams of pain, and it made Aemond cringe. That man was the closest thing to a father he ever had but he was also the same man who killed the love of his life in front of him, however many days it's been since. 

Aemond thought they were going to starve him out but those thoughts were soon erased when Daemon Targaryen himself. His uncle, and father of his late love, came down and opened his cell door. Daemon glared harshly at his nephew, tightening his jaw and fist.

"Come boy." He demands but Aemond doesn't move, just sits there and looks at him wearily. "A hot bath and food has been prepared for you." Aemond cocks his head to the side before standing up.

"Preparing me for my execution?" 

"Every day I have the urge to come down here and cut your head off and send it to your family. But the queen says if it's true you are here to bend the knee, we need you." Daemon steps out of the way but Aemond still hesitates. "We don't have all day." 

"Hmm, lead the way." Aemond has only been to Dragon Stone maybe less than a handful of times. Daemon started his descent to the stairs with Aemond in tow. 

"Letting your daughter's killer out Daemon?" Gasps out Cristion making both men stop. 

"I guess you have gone mad Criston, you will never know freedom again." Daemon spits out and continued his way up the stairs. 

Aemond kept space between him and his uncle. There was still a chance this was all a trick and he was being led to his execution. But no. Daemon opened the door and the hot steam hit them both in the face. 

"Enjoy," Daemon says and Aemond walks through and Daemon shuts the door. A pretty servant girl appeared.

"Would you like assistance with bathing my prince?" She asks and Aemond shakes his head no. She nods and gives a bow before leaving. Once Aemond knew he was alone he started discarding the clothes he had on. He still had dried blood on his hands. Her blood. It made him sick to his stomach. 

Aemond settled into the water and sighed deeply. The warmth was very welcoming after being in a cold cell for days.

He wasn't sure how long he was in there but his fingers started to prune and the water started going cold. He scrubbed his skin quickly, dirt and mud from the cells had already turned the water dark and the blood made it worse.

His hair was a lost cause. He could wash out the gunk but it would be a frizzy mess. He stepped out of the bath cautiously and grabbed the towel. He dried himself off and the cold air made him shiver. His wet hair not helping so he tied it up in a low bun. 

The clothes given were a simple white tunic and a pair of pants, his boots from before would have to do. 

Aemond stepped out of the room refreshed. A guard in the hall came up to him.

"The Queen has asked for your presence." He says and Aemond gives a nod. They both walk to the map room where the other half of his family is. 

Baela noticed him first, she had a hard glare on her face. Rhaenys saw him but kept her face neutral, demoted of any emotion. Rhaena was absent. Luke and Rhaenyra stood together, while Jace stood off to the side fists clenched and fresh tear streaks on his face. 

Daemon's hand was tightly gripped on his sword. He also seemed to have taken a bath but his red fists were clear as day.

"We have a meal for you, brother," Rhaenyra says and Aemond says the plate of hot food with a cup of wine. He slowly walked down the steps, one by one until he was behind the chair. The smell enticed him so much, he pushed the chair back and sat in it. Digging into the food greedily. 

They watched him eat, everyone in that room had mixed emotions about him. Some found him guilty, some blamed him, others knew they needed him. 

"Vermithor was last confirmed to be seen crossing the Stepstones and there are reports they saw him carrying something." Aemond stopped eating at the mention of the dragon. 

"Any guesses as to where he is going?" 

"Valyria," Luke says and Aemond sees others in the room sigh or shake their heads. "Maybe Vermithor knows something we don't."

"He's never been to Valyria, none of our dragons have Luke," Jace says.

"But he's still a dragon, that's where his and our ancestors originated." 

"That doesn't explain why he would take Y/n there." Aemond snaps at the boy and Rhaenyra grabs Luke’s hand. "After this is done, I'm going to look for them." 

"What makes you think you're leaving?" Daemon asks and he takes a step closer Aemomd drops his spoon and sits back. 

"You have me and Vhagar now, you can have throne by lunch." Aemond took a bite of his food again.

"We kept you in the dungeons too long. Your grandfather has gotten the support of the Triacrhy and they attacked the Velaryon fleet at the Gullet. 

"You need me to sort it out?" Aemond asks and he downs the wine.

"You and Jace will fly out, using force only if necessary." Rhaenyra and Aemond cracked his knuckles and pushed the chair back.

"Let's go now." He started walking away, not knowing where he would go. But he didn't want to be there.

"Aemond stop," Rhaenyra says and he stops. "You must rest, Daemon is going to take Harrenhall." 

"I will rest when this is over." 

-

Your eyes shot open and the air rushed back into your lungs giving you a horrible spike of pain. You were rushed with cold then you were burning.

"You're okay Lady Y/n." The voice was loud but it was also so sweet and low. You looked around but you could only see the orange glow of fire and you were clearly in a rock structure. A soft pair of hands wrapped themselves around your back and they slowly helped you sit up. The cloth covering your breasts fell in your lap but you made no effort to grab it again. 

You turned your head slowly to meet with a woman. Her hazel eyes pierced through yours. Her dark hair was shining in the light. 

Your heart started racing and you felt across your body when you felt the scars. One look down and the flashes of the blade going in and out of your abdomen. You remembered the flooding of blood in your mouth and... Aemond.

"Ae-." Your voice barely came out, a tiny squeak at best.

"Rest your voice, my lady, your prince is safe." The woman says and walks away and bends down to grab something. She stands back up and she has clothes in her arms. "Your family needs you." She held her hand out to you and you shakily grab it. She helps you plant your feet on the cold floor and your legs shake, the last piece of cloth falling leaving you naked. "Hold onto the table." 

You slowly turned around and held onto the stone slab. Her hands touched your back and she rubbed her finger along the scars.

"They will heal nicely."

"H-How am I alive?" You ask lowly, she smiles behind you.

"Thank your dragon and the Lord of Light, my lady." 

-

You've heard of the Lord of Light, but you didn't believe in him. You didn't even believe in the Seven. But as you walked through the temple with Seraphine, the priestess who brought you back, this lord of light seemed to be even more real. 

Seraphine gave you a pair of pants and a black long tunic. Your hair burnt at the edges, ultimately damaging some of your hair. 

"Where is Vermithor?" You were still trying to find your voice.

"He has taken the liberty and made a home in a field feeding on cows." There were two guards standing post in front of the door. One nod from Seraphine and they opened the doors. The bright lights outside made you stumble. A servant of the temple appeared and he held a pouch of food and a canteen of water. “May I ask you something?” 

You nodded.

“What did you see when you passed?” She asks, almost desperately but keeping calm. 

“Nothing. I saw nothing.” You say and she lets out a quick sigh.

"May the Lord of Light guide you" Seraphine says. You took the pouch from the servant and nodded at them.

"Thank you." You say to both Seraphine and the servant, and maybe to R'hollor himself. 

-

Volantis, that is where you ended up. That is where Vermithor brought you, which confused you. Vermithor has no history of ever being near here, so how did he know to come here?

But the dragon wasn't a hard miss. He lay comfortably in the field. The people of Volantis had started huddling up and pointing at the beast. Some had never seen a dragon or it's been too long. You pushed past them and with one look at your hair and your approach to the dragon, they all backed off and whispered.

"Who is she?"

"Lady Y/n Targaryen? That is her dragon up there."

"But she's supposed to be dead, killed by her lover."

"That has to be Daemon Targaryens eldest."

Vermithor raised his head when he noticed you and raised it to his full height. He then lowered his neck so he could greet you. You reached up and the second you touched his warm, scaly skin you smiled. Smiled hard, you weren't sure how long you had been dead but it felt great.

"I am in debt to you." Vermithor gave a small growl of acknowledgment, the large dragon then showed you his neck so you had access to the ropes of his saddles. "Take me home."

-

Aemond stood in her bedroom. Memories of the two flooded him. The amount of times he has snuck in here and the times he almost got caught. Her bed was still made since the last time she was there.

It was hard to believe barley a week ago she was begging him to join her. Barley a week since he watched the life leave her eyes the next day.

"Daemon's taken Harrenhall." Jace's voice came from behind him. Aemond turned around to see his nephew in his riding gear and armor. Aemond walks towards him, hair swaying behind him to bump into the boy in front of him. Jace's fists clenched then he relaxed. "I know what your intentions are." Aemond stopped walking. "She wouldn't want you to do that, uncle."

"That is not of your concern, I will look for her regardless of where I am." 

-

Vhagar is the largest dragon alive. She is a hardened warrior. But that doesn't mean she isn't an easy target for ships, as her old age has made her slower and less agile. Her dragon fire is devastating but it won't do anything if she is shot out of the sky. 

Jace and Vermax focused more on the actual people on the ships rather than destroying the ships. Leaving that to Aemond and Vhagar.

Everything was going well until Aemond witnessed Vermax get caught in a grapple and yanked down. No doubt the dragon's death was immediate. Jace leapt off and crashed into the water and Aemond knew his nephew was in trouble. Vhagar dove and the men on the ships brought their crossbows out.

But before Aemond could yell the word 'Dracarys'. Another dragon swooped in under him and instantly laid waste to the ships. It forced Aemond to pull Vhagars reigns and urge her to stop.

Anyone familiar with any of the dragons can recognize the Bronze Fury. But Aemond was more than familiar with the Bronze Fury. Aemond leaned over Vhagar to catch a glimpse at the dragon flying below. 

The silver hair stood out against everything else. 

Aemond felt his heart skip multiple beats. He blocked out all the chaos, Vhagar maneuvering herself around spears. He is no longer worried about Jace. Aemond gripped the reigns and leaned forward.

"Pikagon(follow), Vhagar!" The dragon dipped down and followed behind Vermithor. Aemond was intent on getting a look at the rider. 

The combination of Vhagar and Vermithor fire destroyed the majority of the fleet. Less than 15 ships remained before white flags were waved and the retreat began. 

Aemond could barely focus, his sole attention on Vermithor. But then the dragon changed direction and flew away. Aemond, with no hesitation, followed. 

Vermithor Landed on a sandbank and Vhagar circled until she landed as well. The dragons stood opposite of each other. Aemond shakily made his way down until his boots hit the sand. The person on Vermithor made the same action. 

Aemond walked forward a few steps and he saw you. He saw you from that great distance. His legs were moving before he could register it. 

"Aemond!" He heard his name come from your voice and it spurred him faster. You had started running too, but Aemonds long legs had him reach you much quicker. You crashed into him but he held himself so he only stumbled. He grabbed your arms and looked at you. He looked you up and down. 

"H-How? I watched you die." Aemond's eye started to gloss and suddenly his eyepatch was growing irritating. You shakily brought your hands to his face and caressed his cheek with your thumb. 

"Vermithor took me to Volantis and a red priestess brought me back. The Lord of Light brought me back." 

For a moment Aemond believed he died and just hasn't realized it. But it all felt too real. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." He pressed his forehead against yours and let the tears fall freely, the same tears falling from his other eye started to accumulate in his eyepatch. 

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have just left with you the first time."

"There was no way we could have known, but I'm back, and hopefully for a long time." Aemond sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled backward. You grabbed his arms tightly and his knees buckled so he landed on them. You went down with him and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders.

Aemond laid the side of his head on your chest so he could feel and listen to your heartbeat. He takes continuous deep breaths and you cradle the back of his head. Your fingers then unbuckled his eyepatch and you tossed it into the sand. 

"Aemond." He looks up, his violet eye matching yours. The sapphire shining. "I'm here, I'm okay." He swallowed harshly and looked around. 

No enemies to be seen. Just your dragons on opposite sides of the sand bank and the burning of ships in the distance.

No one was there to take you away from him again. 

Aemond kisses you like he never did before. He wrapped his arms securely around your body and pulled you onto his lap. 

He grabbed at your clothes and pinched the material tightly. He kissed you as if his life depended on it. But it was all too much for you and you pulled pack. He pushed his face into your neck, his cold nose making you shudder. His thin lips pressed against your neck, followed by multiple pecks along the skin. 

"Aemond no." He now laid sloppy wet kisses. "I smell of dragon and death." 

"Don't care."

'Cough, Cough'

Aemond pushed you to the side and scrambled to his feet. Unsheathing his sword in the process.

Jace shook his hair and hacked up more salt water. 

"Jace." You whisper and scramble up but this time running to him. "Jace!" 

He looked up from the sand to see your figure and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Y/n?" You collapsed to your knees and pulled him in. "B-But you're- am I?"

"No, you're not. I'm here Jace, I'm alive." He was trying to take in the information but exhaustion came over him and he slumped in your arms. Aemond walked up behind you to inspect his nephew.

“We need to get him back to Dragonstone.” 

-

Word reached Daemon in Harrenhall as soon as possible when the Bronze Fury was seen at the Gullet. He was back on Caraxes immediately to fly out. Velaryon and Triarchy ships were still ablaze but no sight of any dragons. The next best place would be back to Dragonstone. 

And he was right. Daemon sees Vermithor being tended to by the dragon keepers. He landed Caraxes and walked in through one of the many entrances to the castle.

He passed servants on his way to the council room, helmet clenched in his fist. They stared at him or their eyes would widen at the sight of him. Two guards at the door pushed it open for him. Everyone’s eyes turned to him and they grew silent. 

His eyes couldn’t help but trickle over to the bundle of silver hair. Baela and Rhaena stood there hugging you. Daemon’s hand went weak and the helmet clattered to the ground loudly.

You split from your sisters and smiled at Daemon.

“Father.” Daemon didn’t move from his spot when you reached him. He grabbed you and pulled you in tightly. 

“I- how? When?” He wanted to ask so many questions but you shook your head. 

“I'm here, that's all that matters.” Daemon stayed silent and held you tighter. 

-

Criston’s execution was minutes after the reunion. Death by dragon. Baby dragons, juvenile dragons. It was a horrifying watch.

-

“Do you think the red god exists?” You ask Aemond as he gently drags his finger along the healing puncture marks. 

“There are many gods.” You lean against his chest, the water in the tub sloshing. 

“Have you read about this one?” 

“There isn’t much in the library.” He kissed the side of your head and you tilted your head back. 

“And there has never been a resurrection recorded.” Aemond tensed up. 

“We don’t even know if you were actually dead, you could have passed out and I simply missed it.” 

“You watched me die,  Aemond. You saw me dead.” Aemond rolled his head and shook it side to side. “I saw nothing, the whole time there was nothing. No dream, no god to take me someplace, none of our ancestors talked to me. It was just nothing.” You started to cry and grasped the edges of the tub. Aemond wrapped his arm securely around you and cradled you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” 

It wasn’t until you stopped crying that you could speak clearly again. You stared at the candle, the fire flickering back and forth.

“Aemond?”

“Hmm.”

“I want to give my thanks to this, god.” Aemond sighed but pressed his cheek onto the top of your head. He refused to fight about something like this. 

“Whatever you need, I am here.” The rumble coming from his chest when he spoke was comforting. 

“Avy jorrāelan(I love you).” You say and kiss his bicep. “He is the one who brought me back to you.” 

-

A/n- holy fuck, two fucking years later lol

[cherryheairt]

O Hello, can you write about Gwayne? I really like the way you write.

EI was thinking something like enemies to lovers. Instead of Baela, she is the one who flies over the dragon. They met at the dinner Viserys prepared before he died in the first season.

At the end of the dance Gwayne is forced to bend the knee and accept Rhaenyra as queen. Her daughter doesn't miss the opportunity to make his life hell, until he corners her in a hallway and takes her like a dragon.

hello! I love this prompt, I miss gwayne already 💔

Beckae is the name I gave MC, just to add to the immersion of a Targ-Velyron lol, pronounced Becky still. No description for the reader (mother is Rhaenyra but father is anyone made up, lets say that the reader looks a spitting image of their father to keep it neutral. fem pronouns. I couldn't include the smut at the end, just a lil steam. I'm sorry 😞, I'm terrible at writing those scenes.

noticed that Gwayne's costume included a ring on a chain, a thing typically done by people who want to keep their wedding ring on them, but not lose them. It gave the the main idea for this lol

Dance of Green and Black

When Gwayne Hightower and Beckae Velayron were forced to wed by order of Rhaenyra Targaryen, both did not bother to hide their vexation. They were married mere days after Rhaenyra won the Iron Throne, her loyal men killing Aegon ii in his state of disarray from his burns.

Now, months later, they had left their marriage uncomsumated and drier than the sandy hills of Dorne. They refused to sleep in shared marital chambers at the Red Keep, having agreed on that one thing. Gwayne reluctantly took his father's place at court, staying among the very snakes that brought him here in the first place. He cursed himself for ever responding to Alicent's letter when Aegon first took the throne. If he hadn't, he'd be living his life peacefully alone at the Old Tower.

Now, his days were spent being tormented by the spoilt Princess. She attended each council meeting, laughing snidely at every suggestion Gwayne gave his Queen, and suggesting one of her own in turn. She got away with this every time, seeing as her grandmother was the Hand of the Queen, Rhaenys, and her mother was the Queen.

Gwayne sipped on his wine, which he had taken to indulging in every council, listening to the drowl words of the nobles around him. His wife shared his boredom, apparently, twirling her own glass in her hand. Beside him, she huffed every few minutes. He resisted the urge to ask her to excuse herself if she were so bored. Suddenly, a wet 'splash' fell to his lap, dampening his breeches.

"Oops..." Fluttered the Princess, who covered her mouth in surprise. "That was an accident, I assure you." Though Gwayne could care less if it was genuine or not, he was already scooting his chair out and storming out of the council room. Shocked faces around the table landed on Beckae, who at least had the gaul to look embarrassed. Rhaenyra raised a brow at her daughter, nodding her chin toward the door shortly.

The Princess swiftly followed after her husband, not truly caring for his embarrassment but moreso glad to be given an excuse for leaving the room. If she had known putting her mother on the Iron Throne would have been so dreadfully boring, she would've taken her dragon to Pentos and lived out her days as an old maid.

Gwayne reached his private chambers first, long legs able to carry him so much faster. He took off his trousers and small clothes, left with his bottom half bare to the world. Beckae followed after him, gasping and turning around at the sight before her. Shit, she thought. Perhaps she should've waited at his doors.

"Here to empty your goblet entirely? Go ahead, I'm used to it." He sneered, rolling his eyes at her sudden bashfulness. It would not be the first time she witnessed such a thing. For modesty's sake, he slipped on a fresh pair of linens.

"I am merely here to apologize, husband. Not patronize." She mumbled, face hot.

"Hm." He stepped forward, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "Where was this attitude when you were chasing after me on your dragon? I think your true colors much suit you, wife."

She grit her teeth, annoyed at his haughty behavior. "It was war. If I hadn't been on my dragon and your party happened upon me, I'd have been killed by Criston Cole without remorse."

"I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." He insisted confidently.

She snorted, "when had that man ever listened to you? He hardly heeded the usurper's orders when he was alive."

"Do you think I would have let you die, especially such a dishonorable death?" Gwayne questioned, squeezing her cheeks harder.

She grimaced, "we were not wed, then. Barely acquainted, to add."

He looked disappointed at her snarky reply. "I may not hold much affection for you, wife, but I have always shown myself to be an honorable man, have I not?" When she didn't respond, he continued. "I would say we were not acquaintances, either. Were we acquainted when I bestowed upon your head the crown of The Queen of Love and Beauty at your nameday tourney?"

"That's different. You had to name me that. It is the expectation of a tourney winner to name the celebration's main subject with that title." She said.

"I could've named someone else, even so. Was our little tryst that night meaningless?"

"You cannot use that against me, Gwayne. It is shameful enough that I allowed myself to do such a dishonest thing." She grabbed his wrist lightly, urging it away from its grip. He listened, moving it to a more gentle caresse at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair.

"I do not regret it." He said, softly. "Nor do I regret the night we spent together after the dinner with our families."

"Gwayne," she pleaded, avoiding his intense gaze. While their marriage was yet to be officially consumated, she was far from a maiden. He was to thank for that, of course. How ironic that they ended up married only after they begun to resent each other.

Gwayne resented his entrapment here. She resented his family and his actions during the war.

"What, Princess? I only speak the truth and you know it. Do you regret it?"

She remained silent, hands placed on his chest as if to ground herself.

Gwayne took that as his answer. "We do not have to live this way. We could leave—return to my home in Old Town. You can have your privacy, do whatever you please whenever you'd like. I beg you, it is torturous here for me, and I know you share that sentiment. I will not ask for heirs, I have my brother for that. You can take a lover, a paramour of your choice." He promised her, grabbing her hands and bringing them together. On his knees, he looked the proper image of a knight, kneeling like such. To beg for his Lady to do him this one favor, to release him from court.

"I do not want a lover." She said lowly. "I want for you."

His eyes widened, then his brows furrowed together in bemusement. "You have taken it upon yourself to belittle me publically every day, do you expect me to now believe that you do not resent me?" He scoffed bitterly.

The Princess looked away from him, unknowing of how to phrase her next words. "That is true, I will admit to my teasings–"

"I would hardly call them teasings." He cut in.

She glared at him, continuing. "–or torments, perhaps. No one truly enjoys court, it is both of us who are trapped her together. If I hadn't been forced to marry you, we would have both been free to live where we wished."

"Your mother is Queen, if you only ask she will provide."

"You overestimate my influence, Gwayne. She wants your advisory in council–for Gods know what–and she knows you being married to me keeps you loyal to her."

"Then I will stop being useful. I will be the worst advisor that council has ever seen." His face lit uo in a smirk, as if we were a profound genius.

"Do you not think she will see through this rouse."

"You will be my aid, dear Lady. You need only continue your extremely rude and annoying actions, only louder and more aggressive, so that they will have no choice but to kick you out from future meetings. In addition, my uselessness will send me with you out of the Keep to be rid of us both. If we hate each other in their eyes, they will not suspect that we are working together." He explains.

She carefully thinks it over. True, they would not want wither of them uselessly loitering around the Keep after they were kicked out of the council. She nodded firmly, agreeing to his plan. If all things went to shit and they were discovered to be playing a rouse, the only consequence would be a scolding. What was stopping them?

🏰

Gwayne and Beckae went through their little routine for weeks. The Princess rudely commenting on the entire council's opinions now, not just Gwayne's. Not rude enough to be kicked out immediately, but for irritated glares to be regularly shot at her. If looks could kill, Beckae would have been buried long ago. Gwayne, for his part, entirely stopped giving his opinions. If asked, he exaggeratedly thought for a long time before giving false information.

The weeks passed with many stressed advisors going through the boring meetings with many complaints to the Queen and her Hand. With Gwayne and his wife, however, they started to bond over their mischiefs. Late at night, after their duties were done, the two shared laughter and pleasent conversation over their cups.

When Rhaenyra pulled the married couple aside one morning, before the meeting started, Gwayne and Beckae felt giddy with anticipation.

"You two...I have been thinking for a while now. I think it is time you retired from court and traveled back to Old Town, to raise your children and take care of your House directly from it." The Queen avoided her true reasoning, skirting politely around the Hightower man.

They both nodded solemnly, agreeing with her choice. "We will miss the Keep, Mother. I expect next time I visit, you will perhaps be blessed with a grandchild." Beckae said, hugging her mother, who looked relieved.

Gwayne's brows raised at her words but agreed with them in front of the Queen. Soon, she left the married couple alone.

They shared a loud laugh together, holding each other at their small win. "Free at last!" The Princess cheered, earning a hearty chuckle from her husband.

"Indeed, wife. What were you saying, blessed with a grandchild? Are you so eager to be bed in your new home?" He asked teasingly.

She felt her face grow unrelentingly hot, scoffing. "I was only appeasing her." She said.

Gwayne hummed disbelievingly, nodding along. "I'm sure you were, wife."

At her gawking defenses, he only laughed and walked to his chambers to pack.

🏰

After a sickening three months on the road to Old Town, Beckae and Gwayne were more than ready to sleep on cushioned beds.

So ready, in fact, that they didn't bother to split into separate chambers. Both in Gwayne's chambers, the Princess and Gwayne relaxed in his spacious bed.

"I can not tell you how much I missed a proper bed." She sighed loudly, groaning in pleasure at the comfort. He did the same, humming his own praise.

Well into the night, the two merely talked and sipped on cups of sweet wine. In only their night shifts, Beckae could clearly spot a ring shining on his chest. She grabbed it, pulling it towards her slightly, fingerd brushing over his bare chest and earning a shiver from him. He leaned in with the ring, the chain pulling him by the neck.

"I did not notice this. I had thought you threw your wedding ring away the second you left the feast." She said softly, smiling at the sight of his matching ring.

"Of course not. I am not so cruel." He said, grabbing her own ring-adorned hand and gently placing a kiss on top of the ring. She giggled at the ticklish feeling, earning a smirk from Gwayne. He smirked, continuing to place feathery kisses up her arm, to her shoulder, then neck. The sensitive skin being so softly kissed made her shiver in turn, sighing pleasently. He paused before reaching her lips, grabbing her chin softly in his hand. Silently he asked for her approval.

Nodding, she was immediately drowned in a hot kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as she moaned. She moved her hands to his red hair, tugging at it. He moved her onto her back, hands squeezing her waist playfully. They pulled apart, lips swollen and panting.

The ring hung down to her own chest as he leaned over her. She twirled the ring in her finger, pleased at the sight of it. He was hers, and she was his. Entirely. She brought him down in a kiss again, pulling his chest to her own and adoring the heat that he brought with him.

That night, they comsumated their marriage in a way that no one could deny, every servant in the Tower being able to hear their Lord and Lady making heirs.

🏰

[drgnmnts]

knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 2 - A Fair Exchange

Word count: 3.1K (sorry)

Laena Velaryon was dead. 

The details of her passing brought tears to Daenys’ eyes: burned alive by her dragon as an act of mercy, following complications during her baby's delivery. Daenys recalled Laena from a visit to King’s Landing a few years prior; she remembered feeling jealous of how lovingly Laena treated her daughters— the kindness in her eyes when she looked at them, the honey in her voice as she called their names. 

It was decided that they would all depart for Driftmark right away— Daenys, Aegon, and Helaena on their dragons, while the rest sailed to the island. She would never admit it to them, but Daenys loved flying with her siblings, especially with Aegon: he was insufferable on land, always drowning in his cups and picking on the weak, but while riding Sunfyre he turned into someone high-spirited and lively. It was the only time Daenys felt truly close to her eldest brother. As they both circled around Dreamfyre, trying to playfully disrupt Helaena’s imperturbability, Daenys was able to catch sight of Rhaenyra’s family, coming from Dragonstone opposite to them: her half-sister on the beautiful Syrax, hatched from one of Silverwing’s eggs when it was placed in Rhaenyra’s cradle as a babe; Jacaerys on his young dragon Vermax; and Lucerys on Arrax. Seasmoke was nowhere to be found, and Daenys guessed Ser Laenor was probably already at Driftmark, sick with grief. The fear of ever losing one of her siblings haunted her thoughts for the rest of the journey. 

_______________________________________________

High Tide was damp and dark, but there was something about the Sea Snake’s castle that Daenys found enthralling. The marble of its walls looked like mother-of-pearl in the afternoon sun, and its halls were as beautiful as they were unsettling, crowded with bronze statues covered in corals and sea sediments that reminded every visitor of the Velaryons’ deep connection with the sea.

The families were gathered at the low cliff by Blackwater Bay, the one which Daenys assumed was intended for ritualistic purposes. She could make out the coffin containing Lady Laena’s remains by the edge of the cliff, the narrow box carved to resemble the woman’s appearance. After Vaemond Velaryon’s speech about the thickness of their blood—an odd choice since it had little to do with Lady Laena’s legacy—the guests moved to a small plateau where, as per tradition, they were to wait for the tide to carry the casket further out to sea. 

Standing by her brothers, Daenys noticed Rhaenyra speaking to her eldest son, which reminded her of the abrupt and rather suspicious death of Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin Strong only a couple days prior. If the rumors were true, which Daenys was certain they were, perhaps Jacaerys was sad. Just as Baela and Rhaena had lost their mother, Jace and Luke had lost their father. Daenys wondered if someone had offered their condolences to the boys in any way, but quickly discarded the thought.

“We have nothing in common,” Aegon declared as he observed Helaena with a furrowed brow and a cup of wine in his hand.

“Have you ever tried to at least show her any regard for her interests?” Daenys asked him, squinting up at him against the sun.

“What interests, exactly? Bugs and riddles?” he inquired, making a face. “She’s just so… odd.”

“She’s our sister,” Aemond intervened.

“You marry her, then,” replied Aegon.

“I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.”

“If only,” Aegon scoffed. “We can exchange, if you want. You marry her, and I’ll marry this one,” he added, pointing at Daenys with a nod of his head. “At least I know she wouldn't bother me, since she spends more time in the sky than at home.”

“I would rather have my dragon chew me up,” Daenys deadpanned, Aemond chuckling next to her. 

After a grimace and a long sip of wine, Aegon intercepted a cup-bearer. “We actually do have one thing in common,” he said, giving his siblings a look as he took another cup, “we both fancy creatures with very long legs.”

Daenys gagged at her brother’s comment, to which he replied by smacking her on the back of her head.

“Aegon!” she protested, hitting him back as he laughed, but the sibling squabble was quickly brought to an end by Queen Alicent’s reprimand.

“What is the meaning of this?!” she whispered, her eyes on Daenys.

“He started it!” the girl tried to excuse herself, and this time her mother believed her, swiftly sending Aegon away from the group to take his mischief elsewhere, out of everyone’s sight. 

“I’ve told you many times, Daenys, you must not fall into your brother’s provocations,” Alicent warned, fixing her daughter’s hair where Aegon had hit her. “Why don’t you go speak with the girls? I am sure they could use a kind word from someone their age.”

Daenys nodded, eager to comply with her mother’s instructions, and immediately made way to where Baela and Rhaena were sitting. The twins offered her a sad smile as she approached them, making room for her on the wooden bench.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Daenys spoke.

“Did you know that my dragon was born from one of Vhagar’s eggs?”

At the mention of their mother’s dragon, both girls smiled as they nodded.

“I’ve always wondered if dragons can… sense who their mother is. Silverwing does have her occasional spat at Sunfyre, but I believe that is just because he’s Aegon’s,” she said, making the girls chuckle.

“It would be nice to see Silverwing interact with Vhagar, but she is too sad now…” said Rhaena, looking down. 

“And without a rider…” added Baela.

“Then you should claim her,” Daenys quickly resolved, grabbing Rhaena’s hand. “Wouldn’t it be nice to ride your mother’s dragon?”

Rhaena smiled timidly, and Baela spoke what her sister was thinking.

“She still waits for her egg to hatch. I’ve told her many times to just let it go, but… she keeps her faith.”

Daenys nodded, understanding. “It’s a rare gift, bonding with the dragon given to you at birth. I can see why you would want to hold on to it.”

Rhaena thanked her kindly, finding comfort in the princess’ sympathetic words. Before she could speak further about the topic, the three of them noticed Jacaerys standing next to them. He seemed unsure, hesitant, probably having been sent to speak to the girls by his mother, just like Alicent had sent Daenys.

Daenys found it difficult to meet his gaze, for the brown in his eyes told a story of treason and deception. Yet, she felt inexplicably drawn to them, as if Jace were some creature from a bedtime story rather than just a boy.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, looking at his feet. His shoes were dirty, covered in ash from riding his dragon. Queen Alicent would never allow her children to walk around in unkempt clothes.

“Thank you, Jace,” said Baela, smiling warmly at him.

The boy was clearly not a wordsmith, unable to elaborate on his condolences any further. Instead, he just stood there, holding Rhaena’s hand, until Princess Rhaenys came to comfort her granddaughters, allowing him to slip away.

Giving them their privacy to mourn their loss, Daenys quietly followed Jace to a nearby firepit, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows between them. She couldn't explain the impulse that led her to speak.

“I was sorry to hear about Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin,” she uttered, keeping her gaze fixed on the flickering fire to avoid his eyes. “They were kind.”

The princess could feel Jacaerys’ eyes on her, perhaps filled with confusion, or gratitude, or distrust. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to know. 

As Jace poised to speak, Daenys simply turned around, retracing her steps to her mother’s side without uttering another word. 

Queen Alicent stood tall, engaged in a quiet conversation with Ser Criston Cole, her sworn protector. Daenys held a fondness for Ser Criston; he had taught her archery and the nuances of horseriding, despite her insistence that mastering the latter was second nature to her as a dragonrider. He was ever-present, a stalwart guardian always ready to assist, escort, teach and protect.

Her mother acknowledged her presence by concluding her conversation with Cole, and turned her gaze to Daenys with expectation.

“The girls feel better, I think,” she informed. “We talked about dragons.”

“Of course you did,” Ser Criston quipped, eliciting a smile from Daenys.

“Good girl,” her mother approved, gently stroking Daenys’ hair. The brief display of affection quickened Daenys’ heartbeat, leaving her to ponder if this was Alicent’s way of apologizing for the incident the other day.

“Perhaps I could show them Silverwing up close tomorrow, if Uncle Daemon allows it. I gather they would like it.”

Alicent breathed a sigh and nodded at her daughter’s suggestion 

“You can ask him later, should he be willing to talk.”

“Yes, he must be terribly upset…” Daenys concurred with solemnity, missing Ser Criston’s glance at her mother upon the mention of Daemon’s grief for Lady Laena.

The crowd parted to make way for King Viserys. It was growing late, and the ceremony was becoming too long for him to remain outside. Viserys had his good and bad days, and on the latter, Daenys often wondered how she would feel if he were to pass away. Would she feel grief, or sadness? Would tears come as easily to her as they did now for Baela and Rhaena, mourning the loss of their beloved mother?

Daenys bowed her head as her father walked past her.

“I’m going to bed, Aemma,” he announced.

The confusion was nothing new. Daenys had lost count of how many times her father had mistakenly referred to her by Rhaenyra’s name, especially since his illness had begun to deteriorate not only his body, but his mind as well. 

“Shall I see after Queen Alicent, Your Grace?” Ser Harrold asked, attempting to gently remind the king of his wife’s name, but Daenys knew the damage had already been done.

As Viserys retreated inside, Daenys squeezed her mother’s hand. Queen Alicent, momentarily paralyzed by her husband’s error, met her daughter’s gaze, finding within it a look of the purest sympathy. For a fleeting moment, it seemed she might embrace Daenys, but instead, Alicent let go of the girl’s gentle grip on her hand.

“Go with your sister,” she ordered coldly, and walked away from Daenys, Ser Criston following closely behind his queen.

_______________________________________________

It was well past the hour of the Owl when Helaena woke her sister with a gentle shake on the shoulder, Daenys making a great effort to open her eyes as she had been deep in her sleep just mere seconds before.

“Something’s happened,” Helaena announced, her tone filled with anguish, prompting Daenys to sit up immediately.

“Are you hurt?” Daenys asked, reaching for her sister's arm to check for injuries despite the dimness in the chamber. 

“Not me,” the girl reassured, already getting out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she questioned, still confused and groggy from sleep.

Pausing in her steps, Helaena turned to her sister. “Will you come with me? I’m afraid to go alone,” she pleaded, looking once more like the youngest of the two instead of the other way around.

Unable to deny her sister, Daenys threw back the bed covers and joined Helaena by the door, both of them barefoot and clad in their sleeping gowns.

Slowly opening the door, Daenys's heart sank as she saw several guards rushing down the corridor, confirming her sister’s premonition.

Now filled with curiosity and a strange fear, the girl followed them quietly with Helaena right behind her, fist clutching Daenys’ robe. Together, they arrived at the room of the Driftwood Throne, where chaos reigned. 

The boys were there: Aegon, Jace, and Luke, and so was Ser Criston, Ser Harrold, and the King.  Baela and Rhaena stood aside, embracing each other. Sitting on a chair, Aemond sniffled, their mother at his side while a maester examined his bloody face. Heart shrunk in anguish at the sight of his injury, Daenys took a few steps closer, gasping in horror as she realized that her dear brother was missing one eye.

“Wh- How did this happen?” she was able to ask, wincing as she watched the maester finish stitching the boy’s flesh.

“I claimed Vhagar,” Aemond answered, and Daenys thought she saw a hint of satisfaction in the curl of his lip, despite the pain.

Before she could even begin to question how he had gotten his injury, Ser Criston effortlessly wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her away from the horrid scene.

“Baela, Rhaena!” called Princess Rhaenys, descending a nearby staircase with Lord Corlys close behind. “What happened?”

Almost simultaneously, Rhaenyra hurried into the room with Daemon, rushing to check on her sons, who sported bloody noses and scratches on their cheeks.

Upon the Princess' inquiry into her sons' injuries, accusations flew from both sides of the dispute while Aegon, Daenys, and Helaena watched with a mix of doubt and curiosity. Only after the King commanded silence did the protests from both parties cease.

“Aemond,” he called, visibly exhausted as he approached the boy, using his cane for support. “I will have the truth of what happened. Now.”

“What else is there to hear?” Alicent questioned on behalf of her son. “Your son has been maimed; her son is responsible.”

“It was a regrettable accident,” Rhaenyra defended, further infuriating Alicent.

“Accident? The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son,” she declared, and the image of the knife cutting through her brother’s face made Daenys’ stomach turn.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them,” Rhaenyra stated firmly. “The legitimacy of my sons’ births was put loudly to question.”

“What?” questioned the King. It was still a mystery to Daenys how her father could be so short-sighted when it came to his grandchildren’s parentage.

“He called us bastards,” Jace interjected, and Daenys was once again unable to meet his eyes, fearing he might accuse her of all the times she had participated in her brother’s mistreatment of the Velaryon boys.

“Aemond,” Viserys called once more, bending slightly to meet his son’s gaze. “Look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Daenys felt her mother tense next to her as she waited with bated breath for her son to answer the question, knowing full well she had been the one to share the truth of the matter with all her children.

She had nothing to worry about, however, as Aemond’s loyalty to their mother was unwavering.

“It was Aegon,” he lied, and it even caught their eldest brother by surprise, as Viserys quickly advanced towards him demanding he confess where he had heard the accusations. 

“We know, Father. Everyone knows,” Aegon replied, eyes still fixed forward. “Just look at them.”

The silence that befell the room felt asphixiating, broken only by Viserys’ comandment for harmony between the younglings. 

Otto Hightower, who had been observing from afar until then, approached the King and whispered something in his ear. Viserys nodded, glancing briefly at Daenys before clearing his throat to speak again.

"I believe this is an opportune moment to announce the decision the Hand and I have reached, in hopes this endless strife may finally cease," he addressed those gathered.

"Father," Rhaenyra interrupted, briefly meeting Daenys' eyes, leaving her more confused than before. "Do you think now is the best time to tell her? After tonight's events?"

Daenys looked up at her mother in search for an answer, but the woman’s eyes were fixed on her husband, wide in panic as if she already knew what was coming.

“What is the meaning of this, Viserys?” she dared to ask.

The King held his wife’s gaze, unbothered by her tone. “After conversing this afternoon with Princess Rhaenyra about the future of House Targaryen and House Velaryon, we have decided that my daughter, Daenys, shall marry her son, Jacaerys, when they’ve both reached the appropriate age.”

As soon as those words left her father’s mouth, Daenys’ face, which had been tinted a soft shade of pink from the adrenaline of such an unfortunate night, turned pale as if she had suddenly transformed into a corpse. She opened her mouth, but the torrent of words piling up on the tip of her tongue failed to come out, as she felt an unfamiliar tingle at the tips of her fingers.

“No,” Alicent disagreed immediately, shaking her head as she firmly grabbed her daughter’s wrist, keeping her close. “No, you may do as you please when I’m dead, but I will not have my children taken from me anymore; you’ve already sent Daeron away, such thing will not happen again.”

“The decision is final, Alicent,” said Ser Otto, not a trace of fatherly love in the way he looked at her. “I understand your discontent, but this is for the good of the realm.”

“This proceeding is at an end,” the King declared, already turning towards the corridor connecting the throne room with the apartments. “The Princess Daenys shall part for Dragonstone on the morrow, accompanying her sister and her family, and remain there until they decide to return to King’s Landing. Is that understood?”

No one dared to utter a word. The crackling flames emanating from the fireplace felt suffocating instead of comforting, and Daenys’ eyesight became blurry as the tingling sensation from her fingers spread up to her head.

The events that followed happened too quickly: Alicent rushed to grab Aegon the Conqueror’s blade from Viserys’ belt, wielding it as she charged at Rhaenyra, who was quick to stop her before she could harm her. Screams and commands surrounded the scene, chaos reigning once again.

“You’ve gone too far,” Rhaenyra accused, arms keeping Alicent —and the blade— as far away from her as possible.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me?” the Queen cried. “And now, not happy with having taken my poor son’s eye, you wish to rip my daughter from me? She’s mine, Rhaenyra, mine!”

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. The kingdom, the family, the law: you don’t care about those things, only yourself…” Rhaenyra affirmed, her voice wavering with the effort of keeping Alicent away. “But now they see you as you are…”

The sound of Valyrian steel cutting flesh silenced the room immediately. The women separated, and everyone, included Alicent, watched in consternation as blood slid down the Princess’ arm. 

The silence was broken by Daenys’ small voice.

“Mummy?” she called, before collapsing onto the cold stone floor.

_______________________________________________

Just some quality time with family, what could go wrong?

The time jump is coming, just bear with me!

Also, Daenys being a little devil on every single dragon-less Targaryen's shoulder whispering to them to 👏 just 👏 claim 👏 one 👏.

If you liked this, let me know in any way! :)

Series Taglist: @void21, @burningwitchobject

[aereasrage]

Notes on The Favorite pt. 2

summary: as requested, i elaborate on the relationship between daemon, rhaenyra and alicent’s daughter!reader (but mostly rhaenyra and reader sorry😭) (links: part 1 /part 2/part 3 /part 4/ part 5/ notes 1)

cw: rhaenyra kinda preys on your mommy issues, manipulation, mentions of parent/child incest (but nothing actually occurs), platonic yandere, some…interesting undertones between these two sisters.

Rhaenyra was occupied with her own matters and her own miseries, too much so to truly be invested in the rearing of her youngest sister. She'd never spoken to the girl alone but she knew her eldest was fond of her. That was why she offered a betrothal in the first place, when she was shot down, she felt for her son but reconciled herself easily to the fact that having a relationship with her sister was simply never to be. Alicent guarded you like a hound and if not her, then Aemond. It was abundantly clear that her being around you would only be another point of contention in an already volatile family. After the night at Driftmark, she accepted that there were to be no mended fences and she, who had already been suffering the fallout for years, retreated back into minding her own children. The distance was final and irreparable.

She viewed Jace's obsession with you as a youthful infatuation which would fade with time as he realized the position they were all in. She was mistaken. Jace, at a tourney for your birthday, nearly killed himself trying to crown you Queen of Love and Beauty. And the boy didn't even have shame about it, he seemed proud when she confronted him. He was languishing in bed, bandaged and delirious, he could only grin when she spoke of you. She could not get through to him for the first time.

Daemon, in turn, went to Baela about the matter thinking that surely his daughter would have something to say about her betrothed's behavior. A wish to break from this betrothal in the face of such insult. Mayhaps, even, a wish for him to be thrown from his horse sometime. But what he found was not his daughter scorned but a steadfast image of her mother, her eyes betraying a certain thrill. "He has not insulted me, father. He is taken with another, but I have been taken before, mayhaps just as much." He hadn't known how to respond to such a revelation. Oh, the curse of having a daughter who was just like her mother. He'd never know how to be a father to her. He should have advised her then but all he could do was be somewhat…pleasantly surprised by the depth of his daughter's similarity. She had gained so many wants and nuances right under his nose and he'd not known until then. She’d developed a fervor toward something that she wished for.

So, they left it be and watched with a precognition of doom when you married Aegon, your mother having to hold your hand as you said your vows. She waltzed you away from the feast and Daemon noticed that you were nodding on your feet from one cup of wine but thought little of it until the queen did not return to the event to continue entertaining congratulations. Jace was sullen and Rhaenyra was in his ear, trying to cheer him, not having noticed the state you were in. Later, the two would compare what they’d seen and heard. Daemon would crassly, half jokingly suggest something between you and Alicent. Rhaenyra would propose that her son might have already had you and your mother, though remaining silent, sought irrefutable proof of your duty to Aegon so as to be certain of the cleanliness of all their reputations. Though, that never accounted for why she didn’t wed her eldest daughter to her eldest son. It was distasteful for you to be wed to him, Rhaenyra thought and it made something in her feel uneasy.

And when the first dark haired child was born, there was no surprise in it happening (mayhaps there was actually even a bit of relief) but rather how casually it was handled. Daemon and Rhaenyra surely had eyes just as well as Alicent but there seemed to be no commotion about the fact that her grandchild was surely sired by Jace. Rhaenyra didn’t have any desire to stir trouble but Daemon surely did and he made jokes whenever the family was gathered in one place. “My grandnephew bears such a resemblance to my other grandnephew, it seems my brother’s blood runs strongly,” he’d said smugly to Alicent as he came upon the three of you in the garden. He couldn’t help himself, the jokes were not toothless but he wasn’t serious about brooking any trouble. He even found you worthy of some credit given how firmly you seemed to have planted everyone’s heads up your arse.

The couple found it eerie how your mother was always hovering over you, Daemon would have liked to know how you got out from under her long enough to fuck his stepson. Rhaenyra had heard she’d even been in your chambers during your first night with Aegon. And it seemed her madness translated to the rest of the family. The image of piety all day long, your siblings always calling after you, always wrapped up in you so much so that they seemed not to even realize how their nephews and niece so resembled a certain prince outside of them. Not even your lord husband seemed to care or notice that all your children took after Jace, it was peculiar. The oddest part about it was that it felt sincere for most of them, when Alicent had told her that the children looked the way they did because of whatever nonsense she spouted, Rhaenyra truly thought she seemed as though she believed it herself. That was what frustrated and baffled her more than anything. She loved the girl so much she’d even gone blind.

In a way, it was perhaps a good thing for her cause that all Aegon’s heirs were sired by her son, although it made clear an upsetting double standard. If you’d been so endeared by her son, to some degree, you’d have no choice but to have sympathy to their cause. They could make something of that. And perhaps both of them would find out why their children were so enamored with you.

When she was finally able to separate you from Jace, she had you in her chambers, staring at you like a hawk, circling around your form. She didn’t intend to give you hell or be a nightmare of a goodmother but it was life and death, she wanted to know who you would be loyal to. If she’d have to keep you as a prisoner or a sister. You didn’t shrink under her gaze yet. You were always somewhat intrigued by your big sister. Such attention was paid her, such fuss. Her arrival in each room was like an event unto itself. Whispers carried on the wind about her. Your mother talked about her all the time. Maybe it was part of the reason you had your children the way you did, to pull some of your family’s focus back to yourself. She was your mother more than she was Rhaenyra’s enemy, after all. You envied Rhaenyra, you admired her. You were kin to her and so unlike her at the same time.

“I have always wondered how your mother had the audacity to ignore how much your children resemble mine,” She murmured, her eyes wide, pupils dilated and dark as she stared at you. She remembered also how her own children had been treated and that brought a flare of anger she was quick to quell. “They say the red keep is in a frenzy because of your absence. Do you long to return?”

Yes…and no. It was complicated. “I long to stay wherever we are safest.”

She smiled to herself, mirthlessly. “You would be safest a year in the past. Answer me this…you wear our colors, you have had my son’s children, but would you put an oath to me? Over your lord husband? Do you have that much love of my son if not of me?”

She startled you by taking your hands in her own, you hadn’t been anticipating her to touch you. You had never been so close to her, now that you thought of it. It felt like a domineering gesture, as though asserting that she could do anything to you. “I expect that I won’t have to keep you here as a hostage,” she murmured, catching your gaze. “Am I right in assuming?”

“I do love your son…” you hesitated, trying to think of some sly thing to say. You were trying to ride the fence as long as you could and she had cut through to ask you directly your position. She was full of hateful memories of the red keep when she looked at you, barely contained and her patience worn very thin. She had in her hands a potential tool and she wanted to be certain of what using it would entail. You didn’t know her well enough to be certain she wouldn’t harm you if she didn’t have the heart to hurt your children, you needed to tread lightly. “As I love the rest of my family.”

“Does your husband know his children don’t carry a drop of his blood?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” you admitted easily, it had been nothing to lie to Aegon. He was happier for it and what did it matter when it was you he loved and wanted rather than babes who need care they cannot return to him? “I’m not faithful to my husband in that way, I admit. And if this war comes to have his head, then I can only pray for him. It is his war to fight and win or to fight and lose. But I ask that you spare my mother and sister their fates, then you will have all my loyalty rather.”

Rhaenyra deliberated for a moment, letting go of your hands abruptly and stepping away from you a few paces as her eyes surveyed you closely from top to bottom. “If I have my way, they’ll not need to be harmed,” she said, finally. “There will be more bloodshed if you seek to betray me than if you do nothing. I can promise it.”

You, the very jewel that the rest of her family sought to keep away from her, in her grasp finally and looking at her as though she were about to eat you. She hadn’t known she wanted this but somewhere deep inside, now that she had you alone, she felt a certain modicum of satisfaction. You were…delicate, frightened, perhaps more willing to obey than she’d thought previously. A conquering desire overtook her caution and anger. Pull you away from your mother and your other siblings…what could she turn you into? Her own? …yes, mayhaps the endeavor of it would please her.

She hovered ever closer and reached out, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. She’d wanted to see how you’d react to a softer touch, a more intimate, motherly gesture. She’d wanted to know how to felt to do so as well. Your breath hitched at the semblance of touch which reminded you so much of your mother. You hadn’t meant to lean into it but it was reflex and a need for a mother who was not there with you. More disconcerting was the fact that your sister smiled softly at your reaction. “Give me your word and I’ll give you mine,” she commanded but in a softer tone she reserved for her own children.

She had you in her grasp. She was beginning to understand why your mother had held so fast to you. You nodded, struck dumb by intimidation and mild admiration, “I swear I would never betray you. On their lives.”

She smiled softly and you couldn’t keep yourself from feeling a strange sort of pride at her approval. She was to you what you were to your lady in waiting at the red keep, the one who adored your every movement simply because you were the princess and she couldn’t believe she was in your presence, at King’s Landing. This was your illustrious elder sister and to be near her…was it the fact that your father favored her so much that made you feel as though her presence were greater than it was? Was it all the whispers? Either way, you had a latent desire for her smile, for her to look at you and speak to you.

“No undue harm will come to Alicent or Helaena, I will not harm them so long as they stay only as figures of this war.” Her words were careful, sly, even but even that much assurance made you sigh in relief. “You’ll stay with me, with us, until the war has reached an end.”

She liked that idea more than she should. Liked the thought of her half-sister, apple of her stepmother’s eye trailing her skirts more than she should. She enjoyed the thought of having you.

[lovrre]

-All’s fair in love and war

Prt1. Jacaerys velaryon x fem black Targaryen

Word count: 2k

Summary: Daughter of Daemon, twin to Baela, you always felt like an outsider, too much like your father yet somehow simultaneously not enough. You thought you had no place until Jacaerys, years later, and a injured wrist brings you back to where you truly belong.

Warnings: maybe a curse word, lots of Angst, slow burn,probably some other stuff…

Author note: this will be a series, don’t worry I won’t take forever. (I’ll try) there will be smut in the later parts, a little she fell first her fell harder and ofc yearning touch deprived Jacaerys 🫦

From a young age, you could sense the rift between you and your twin sister Baela. Despite sharing the same womb, your differences were stark. She and Rhaena shared a bond that you could never quite penetrate. It was not their doing, but rather your own fiery spirit that kept you at a distance. Your mother's gentle nature was reflected in them, while you inherited your father's boldness. Though your mother's love was unwavering, you couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her resented your wild ways. Your father's favoritism of you only widened the gap between you and your sister as you grew older.

After your mother's passing, all your unpleasant behaviors seemed to amplify. You became withdrawn, even as a child. harboring anger towards the world and all within it. It felt like you could never live up to anyone's standards. unintentionally Chaos and drama seemed to follow you wherever you went. As you matured, you chose solitude, spending most days flying on your dragon, immersed in books, or reluctantly sparring with your father. With the looming threat of war, you were made to train relentlessly, often multiple times a day. Your father pushed you to practice at odd hours, in the dead of night and early morning. Over time, your body wearied from the constant exertion.

“Again“ Daemon's demand echoed as you swiftly advanced, sword aimed at his exposed chest plate. In a flash, he deflected your strike, the clash of steel ringing out. The force caused you to almost drop your sword, he was not holding back. "Again!" he roared, lunging forward to meet your blade once more. As you staggered back, your wrist throbbing from the impact, your father's eyes gleamed with sadistic excitement. determination etched on your face. Your father's blade comes down towards you, but you manage to defend against it, the sound of iron scraping filling the room. 

With all your might, you push him away stumbling back, a sharp pain shot through your wrist, a soundless crack signaling the injury. With a loud clatter of your sword falling to the ground."I am finished," you declare, with an unreadable expression on your face, as you begin removing your armor.

Daemon's gaze hardened at the sound of your sword falling to the ground. "You are finished when I say you are," he commands, pointing his sword at your discarded one. "Pick it up." "Even if I attempted, I wouldn't be able to," you reply, continuing to remove your armor swiftly and carefully. "I am finished for the day," you state, dropping the last piece of armor as you head towards the exit. Your father calls out for you but you ignore him. "Go pester Baela and Rhaena with your training," you mutter angrily, rubbing just below your wrist as you make your way to your room.

“What is the matter” your sister asked worried as you rushed through the hall to your room holding your wrist. tears welling in your eyes involuntarily due to the pain. “Nothing,” you say attempting to walk past her She blocked your path, stepping in front of you to inspect your hand.  "I can see that something troubles you. Let me assist-" Baela began, reaching out to you. "I have no need of your aid!" you shouted, pulling away from her touch before continuing to your room. The words hung heavy in the air as regret washed over you remembering the look of hurt and shock on her face. Jacaerys observed from afar before he made his way towards Baela to provide solace.

"I only-" she began, then let out a weary sigh.

"I know," Jacaerys murmured, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "She becomes more unbearable with each passing moment," he grumbled. “I shall speak to her," he declared, feeling a simmering aggravation building up inside him. "Do not," Baela implored. "I do not desire further conflict," she added. 

“It is fine, Jacaerys,” Baela insisted, noticing the lingering frustration on his face. “I am alright,” she said with a comforting smile. “I will leave it,” he replied with a forced smile. “Thank you,” Baela said before turning away, leaving Jacaerys in the corridor, his mind still troubled by the encounter. He made his way to your chambers.

As he approached the entrance to your chamber, the sound of your agonized cry reverberated through the corridors. Startled, he rushed inside to find you collapsed on the ground, surrounded by your gown as you writhed in pain and sorrow, too engrossed in your torment to acknowledge his presence. Never before had he seen you weep, not even in your youth; until this moment, he believed you incapable of shedding tears. "I shall fetch your father," Jacaerys offered, turning to leave. "No!" you cried out, vehemently shaking your head. "Do not send for my father," you insisted, tears shimmering on your cheeks. "I am merely overreacting," you declared, attempting to stand before sinking back down. Jacaerys promptly rushed to your side, lifting you up by your waist.

"What has happened?" He inquired, his brow furrowed as he gazed upon your condition. You look physically pained, your usually glowing skin now dull, your eyes weak. “I was sparring with my father," you gasped, trying to maintain composure in your voice.  The pain was unlike anything you had ever felt before throbbing relentlessly throughout your arm."My hand took a blow, but that is all." you muttered, disoriented as you recoiled from Jacaerys' touch. "I am unharmed," you declared, rising to your feet unaided. He remained close behind, ready to catch you should you stumble once more. "You do not appear well," he noted, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead, damp with sweat.

Your handmaiden entered the room, her face filled with alarm as she took in the sight before her. "She has injured herself," Jacaerys interjected on your behalf, dropping his hand. "I am well Naera," you insisted, your eyelids growing heavy. "You are not," he countered, his gaze fixed on you. "Bring a splint and bandages," he ordered the handmaiden, prompting her to hasten out of the room. “ I think it is broken” hemumbled examining your arm.

"Jacaerys," you muttered, catching his attention. "Do not tell my father," you managed before succumbing to the pain. Jacaerys was there to catch you as you fell into his arms, your head falling into the crook of his neck. Jacaerys carefully laid you on your bed, marveling at your beauty even in your unconscious state. It had been a long time since he had been in such close proximity to you. You had grown so much, he wondered if you had noticed his own newfound maturity. After ensuring that your arm was properly splinted and a wet rag was on your forehead, he prepared to depart. "I can take it from here," Naera declared, assuming control of the task. Jacaerys nodded, but hesitated, his gaze fixed on you as you slept. "Do not trouble yourself with informing Daemon, I will handle it," Naera stated calmly. "She mentioned that-"

  "I am aware," she confirmed with a nod. "Though Veerah is prone to fever, she will need a healer," Naera said as she wrung out another rag to place on your chest. Jacaerys nodded in understanding. "I will take the responsibility when she asks," Naera said with a reassuring smile. "I am grateful for that," Jacaerys replied with a slight smile before turning to depart. "She may not admit it, but she does enjoy company," Naera stated. "Her exterior is hard but her heart is soft," she added with a smile. Jacaerys nodded in understanding before taking his leave.

That night, as Jacaerys retired to his chambers, your memory consumed his thoughts in a way he had never experienced before. He found himself dwelling on the comfort of your presence in his arms, and the scent of you was like a revelation, awakening a desire he never knew existed. The sound of his name on your lips echoed in his mind, stirring emotions he had long forgotten. It had been years since they had exchanged more than a few words, and Jacaerys realized how much he longed for your company. Seeing this new vulnerable side of you sparked a curiosity within him, leaving him to wonder what other secrets you held

~~~

“Again!” you command with a chuckle as young Jacaerys pointed his wooden sword at you. He rushed towards you and you parried his attack, causing your wooden swords to clash. You step back and swing, knocking his sword out of his hand. "I've won, yet again," you declare proudly. "I let you win," young Jacaerys grumbled as he retrieved his sword. "Well then, you should let me lose some time," you jest. "You're the only girl I know who enjoys playing knights," Jacaerys remarks as he sits back on a large rock. "Is that strange?" you inquire uncertainly, joining him on the rock. Jacaerys shakes his head in disagreement. "I don't think so," he replies. "My mother once told me that she went on a hunt, something people say only men do," Jacaerys says, playing with his sword at his side. "I hope one day I can hunt too," you say, gazing into the distance. "We can hunt together," Jacaerys suggests, hopping off the rock and playfully hitting the sword by your side in hopes of provoking a fight. You laugh at his actions. "Try to win this time."

“How many more stones?" young Jacaerys panted, dropping an armful into the pile. "need help?" you chuckle as you place another rock onto the small castle foundation you two were building. "Not at all, I was just curious," he quipped. "Though in my head, I did not expect this to take so many days," Young Jacaerys stated, wiping dirt on his clothes. "Two days is not so many," you reply, placing down another rock. "My father said hard work breeds good results, and we want to build a great empire," you say, wiping the dirt from your hands.  “We could ask Baela and Rhaena to help” young Jacaerys suggested with a smile. You shake your head in disagreement, “they wouldn’t not like this play, too much dirt” you state looking down at your dirt covered hands. “Is that why you play with me?” Jacaerys inquired with a smile. “Yes, and you are useful when I need help with heavier stones” you joke causing the two of you to laugh. 

“We should construct a bridge for the people to cross," Jacaerys proposed. "Indeed! And we shall station guards at the entrance," you chimed in enthusiastically. “Though that means more work,” you say looking over at Jacaerys. “I believe we can do it,” Jacaerys says with a smile. The two of you took turns laying the foundation of your fortress and sent the other to gather the necessary Materials.

After an hour, you both stepped back to admire your progress. A stone hut made of mud and rocks stood before you, nearly complete. "Tomorrow we shall address the roof," you declared, brushing dirt from your hands onto your gown. "We must christen our realm," Jacaerys declared, eyeing the unfinished castle surrounded by picked flowers. "The Kingdom of Drangea," he announced. "Drangea?" you questioned. "Like dragon?" you inquired, puzzled. "No, like hydrangea, your favorite flower," he clarified, watching for your reaction. You appreciate the gesture but still shrugged.

 "I like it, but the Kingdom of Dragons sounds more formidable, a name befitting a ruthless empire." 

"What about Drangea, Kingdom of Dragons?" Jacaerys proposed. "That is a name befitting of a realm," you concurred, selecting a small, jagged stone. With a piece of timber that had been halved, you etched the name onto it. "It is now official," you declared, stepping back to admire it. "If this is our kingdom, then I am the king and you are the queen," Jacaerys proclaimed. Your heart raced in your chest, "I suppose," you replied with a hesitant smile. Sensing your uncertainty, young Jacaerys amended, "The king and queen do not need to be wed -" Jacaerys started, but you cut him off. "We lack crowns," you reassured him with a smile. "The king and queen must have a crown," you furrowed your brow, "tomorrow” Jacaerys stated with a smile. 

~~~~

Seated by the window, a book in hand, your wrist tightly bound in a splint, your eyes gazed outside, lost in thought. For three days, you had been confined to your chamber, sipping on herbal soup and engrossed in a tale of a woman's demise from infection, It was not a very uplifting read. Jacaerys and your sisters attempted to visit, but you dismissed them. "He's not there," Naera's voice resonated as she brought in another bowl of soup. "He's out riding."

"I have no words for you," you replied, turning away to look out the window. "I would rather face your anger than see you fall to fever," she argued. “Where have you been? You know he forbade me to ride?" you questioned, feeling a surge of anger. “He has worked me to the point of exhaustion, shattered my wrist, and then casted me off to die like a horse with a broken leg” you huff. "Could you even mount in your current state?" Naera inquired. "Think of Luke," she proposed.

"That was a unique circumstance," you declared solemnly. "Completely different. Luke was murdered," you affirmed. "Others have ridden in worse conditions safely. We are in the midst of a war, and I cannot ride a dragon," you grumbled, staring out the window.

"I believe your sister Rhaena shares similar sentiments,” she remarked, placing your bowl down. Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Whose side are you on?" you asked, puzzled.

"Yours, always," Naera replied, settling on your futon. "I just worry about how others perceive you," she explained.

“Why?” you questioned, walking over to your bookcase. “They pay me no mind,” you stated, swapping one book for another.

“How can you be sure, when you barely interact with them?” Naera prodded.

"If you're here to lecture me, you can leave. My father has already done so," you retorted aggravated pointing towards the door.

"I apologize," Naera sighed. "I only want what's best for you," she added, fiddling with a book on your futon. "On a brighter note, Jacaerys seemed quite eager to follow your instruction."

"Did he?" You asked, feigning disinterest. "Yes, and he lingered a while after you passed out Naera replied. 

Later that evening You lay in bed, gazing up at the ceiling, unable to find rest due to the agony in your arm and the relentless thoughts swirling in your mind. No matter how hard you tried to push away the worry, it lingered every night, leaving you feeling utterly helpless. To be maimed in the midst of a war was the last thing you desired. Although you were not entirely incapacitated, it felt as though you were. You were forced to remain idle while your kin risked their lives for a cause you would willingly sacrifice yourself for. Their names would be immortalized in history, while you could only watch, all because your father had worked you like a beast for a war you could no longer partake in.

Naera had recounted tales of a mysterious healer, a witch of sorts, who dwelled in her former village. Whispers of her miraculous abilities to ward off death and bless the land with abundance had reached you. If she could breathe life into withered crops, perhaps she could mend your shattered arm, or at the very least, alleviate the pain enough for you to wield a sword once more. It was a reckless gamble, but one you were willing to take.

You rose from your bed and donned the simplest of garments, a difficult task for one who takes such pride in their attire. Gathering a handful of coins hidden beneath the floorboards, you hesitated before opting to take the entire pouch. Pulling up the hood of your shawl, you exited your chambers. Stealthily and silently, you navigated through the manse. As you traversed a corridor, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Hastily, you turned and slipped into a doorway, inadvertently knocking over a small metal statue with your foot. Cursing under your breath, you pressed your body against the door, hoping to remain unseen. "Who there?" Jacaerys's voice echoed down the hall.

You remained motionless, barely drawing breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You listened as his heavy footsteps drew nearer and nearer. Only catching a glimpse of the back of his head, you observed as Jacaerys strode down the corridor in search of the source of the disturbance. He cast one final glance before turning and exiting the hall. You remained still for a time, ensuring it was safe. Once you were certain he had departed, you ventured to the cave where your dragon lay. Taking hold of a torch that lit your path as you made your way to your beast.

you creeped forward beckoning for her, "Qamar," you whispered, rousing her from her slumber at the sound of your voice. "Qamar, it is Veerah," you called out once more. You heard her emit two loud huffs, lifting her weary head as she approached the torchlight. "Awake," you stated before her large blue nostrils became visible in the light's haze as she sniffed the air. "I have missed you," you confess with a smile, caressing her face with the same tenderness and compassion you had shown her when she was just a youngling.

Y/n?" Jacaerys called out from behind you, causing your heart to sink. "You followed me?" You questioned angrily turning to face him. "Rightfully so it seems, you are not planning to ride?" he asked looking over your shoulder at your Dragon. "And if I am?" you challenged. "If you were, I would tell you that it is a certain path to demise," Jacaerys retorted seriously, moving closer. "my actions do not concern you," you declared, pulling off your hood. Even in the dim light, Jacaerys couldn't help but notice how beautiful you were. 

"Where are you going?" Jacaerys inquired as you circled the dragon, with him following closely behind.  "Once again, that is none of your concern," you stated, tightening the saddle straps on Qamar. "I will not let you to leave," Jacaerys declared as he watched you attempt to mount your dragon

"You do not let me to do anything," you State before your hand was overcome with a searing pain, causing you to lose your grip on the reins. Fortunately, you fell into Jacaerys' arms, his chest heaving with concern as he gently lowered you to the ground. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. 

"How much further do you think you'll get?" Jacaerys interjected, his voice a blend of concern and frustration. 

“I do no-“

"How much further do you think you'll get in the dead of night with a broken wrist and no one to aid you?" Jacaerys questioned, his eyes filled with a seriousness that you had never witnessed before, and it suited him well. 

“Far, I reckon ” you jest, provoking a surge of anger in Jacaerys. “I am serious y/n, Do you seek death?” He inquired sternly, his eyes fixed on you. “You cannot deter me, I have made my decision,” you say meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I will not stand by as you all risk your lives.” you state. “What of your life?” Jacaerys asked, “Am I to sit Idly by as you risk your own?”

“Yes, you are, you are to watch as you have always. do not feign friendship now Jacaerys," you pause. "My affairs are my own, they do not concern you," you state before checking the security of the saddle once more. 

"I will inform your father," Jacaerys states gravely, causing you to turn and look at him in disbelief. "You would not dare," you challenge. "Oh, but I would," Jacaerys states firmly a smile playing on his lips. "Or I can assist you," he offers. "I do not require your assistance” You bluntly reply. "Those are your choices" he reminds.

~~~~

Seated on the cold stone floor of your unfinished castle, you meticulously added leaves to the crown in your hands. The crowns, one for you and one for Jacaerys had been your labor since morning. Your fingers ached with fatigue as you continued to weave, but the image of his smile spurred you on. You hoped that by the time you finished, you would have gathered enough courage to correctly express your feelings to Jacaerys. Your mother had often read to you tales of young love and innocent crushes where rejection was inconsequential in the world of children's books. You hoped for real life to mirror those stories. Expressing emotions, even pain, was a challenge for you, it always left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. As you secured the final stem beneath the others, you raised your weary head to gaze at the sky, now painted in hues of orange. Time had slipped away from you, and you had anticipated Jacaerys's arrival by now. Yet, he had not shown up, leaving you alone with the completed crowns of flowers and leaves. you debated venturing out to search for him. Yet, there was a part of you that was certain he would come, so you decided to wait.

You remained in that unfinished castle until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The darkness enveloped the outside world, and only then did you rise, brushing the dirt and grime off your dress. The woven crowns remained tightly clutched in your hand as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Wiping them away, you left the stone hut and made your way through the corridor of the home, your mind racing with reasons for his absence. "Veerah!" Naera's voice called out to you. She was younger than at the age of ten and five. her sympathetic eyes looking down at you covered in dirt. "What's wrong?" she asked, wiping the dirt from your cheeks with her thumb. "I'm fine," you replied, pushing her hand away. "Have you seen Jacaerys?" you questioned, causing Naera to tense. "Did something happen to him?" you asked worried, making Naera shake her head. "No, Jacaerys is fine," she assured, instantly bringing a smile back to your face "Where is he then?" you asked trying to contain your excitement as you squeezed the woven crowns in your hands.

 “He is in the drawing room,” Naera says with a sad smile gesturing to the door. You smile completely unaware approaching the door. You push it open slightly to see, young Jacaerys standing with his chest up, wooden sword pointed to the ceiling. “I will save you my queen” he announced Charging forward. Causing your sister Baela to fall back with a giggle, in her perfect princess dress “You have to get through me first!”  your little sister Rhaena declared pretending to blow fire from her mouth. Young Jacaerys pretends to slay her with his wooden sword causing your Baela to run into his arms. “Thank you, brave knight,” she says leaving him a kiss on his cheek. In this story, Jacaerys was a knight, Baela a princess, and Rhaena a dragon. And what were you? Nothing, the fool. 

Never in your life before had you felt so embarrassed, embarrassed that you believed even for a moment someone would pick you. Dropping the crowns on the floor you left and never spoke of it again. Never again did you acknowledge you and Jacaerys past friendship, you barely acknowledge him. You spent the next six years focusing on yourself and yourself only.

~~~

You both sat in the back of a carriage, facing each other, packed like stowaways as the carriage jolted along the rough path. "You appear improved, how are you feeling?" Etwa asked, looking at you. "Do not feel pressured to speak," you said bluntly, attempting to silence him. “you are the only person I know who remains in a perpetual state of unhappy" Jacaerys declared, gazing at you with a perplexed expression. "Then you have not encountered enough people," you retorted plainly, resuming your silence. focusing on the sound of the creaking carriage wheels on the road. 

"I did not inform your father, if that is why…," Jacaerys commented, attempting to break the silence. “I was made aware,” you declare with a tight lipped smile. The silence did not last long as he resumed speaking. “However… if your health were to not improve I might have considered-”

"Are you always so?" you asked, irritation rising within you. "So what?" Jacaerys inquired, puzzled. "Annoying," you stated bluntly. He surrendered, releasing a sigh and reclining back against the wall, clasping his hands in his lap. The moment he ceased speaking, you secretly hoped he would continue. Yet, you also enjoyed the sight of defeat in his expression. You were unwell, and you were aware of it. Your interactions with Jacaerys felt like a constant struggle within yourself, even when you meant to speak kindly, only harsh words escaped your lips.

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[asumi2020202]

Burn them all

Other name:Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

Summary: Never once have you been to the place you were you belong. Always thinking you were an outcast. But one day you were invited. Feelings developed. Friendship made. When the war came, and they harmed one you hold dear, they realised that the same blood runs in both the father and the daughter. The act done by her, made even the gods pray for the people.

Au: Viserys I had a son before Rhaenyra. But due to him being unstable and bloodthirsty, Viserys exiled him. This son of his was Aerys II or 'The Mad King' as some may say. Due to him being exiled, his wife also left. Y/n Targaryen was born when Rhaenyra had given birth to Jacaerys. She was younger than her brothers, Viserys II, who had died while fighting some rogues and Rhaegal, who was murdered. She had an older sister but she was killed in front of her so she killed first when she was the age of seven. Y/n travelled the world, saving the slaves she found with her three dragons who were given to her by her father. She gave freedom to the slaves and poor. The world got to know her as The Khaleesi of the Great Grass sea, The Unburnt, The Mother of Dragons, The Breaker of chains.....and the Daughter of Death.

A/n: Hello! This story is based on an Au. I request you to read the Au before diving into the story or else it may not make sense. The timeline is mixed with Daenerys' because you take her place in this story. The reference picture took sometime to draw, you don't need to think of it permanently because it is only a reference.

About reader: She is younger than Aegon, Aemond and Helaena. She is loved by both sides. She has heterochromia (I love people with heterochromia). She wears an eye patch like Aemond.

Before reading:

Timeline: During Lucerys' trial to the Dance Of the Dragons.

The reader has 3 dragons. Namely- Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal.

Rhaenyra only betrothed Lucerys to Baela.

Tilted notes are translations of high valyrian.

Blood and cheese are not involved.

WARNING: mentions of rape, violence, blood.

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"Khaleesi, a raven has arrived from Kings Landing....."

"Ah, it seems he finally found me. Jorah, get everything ready, we will leave for Kinds Landing at dawn."

"At once my lady.."

_________________________________________

Music recommended: Dragonstone

Lord Vaemond stood before the king, Viserys, who looked like he was waiting for someone . After some minutes, when no one came, he spoke " Let the Petition start".

Just as Lord Vaemond was about to speak, the doors opened.

"Y/n Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of her name, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of the Mereen, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains... And the Mother of Dragons." Missandei spoke.

All eyes turned at the door as there stood Y/n Targaryen holding onto the hand of her best friend Missandei.

"Ah my grandchild, you recieved my letter. I always wished to see you in person, I only ever heard of you through the gossips of others saying a Targaryen girl conquered nations and freed slaves.

I longed to see you myself" Viserys said to whom y/n replied.

"I longed to see you as well your grace, I only ever heard of you through the lips of my brothers and sister. Even if I wished to meet you, i couldn't, as my family was exiled."

"I exiled your father and no one else. Your mother loved your father so heartily that she left with him. She was devoted to your father. But past shall be left behind my child, for you are now home."

"I understand your grace. Thank you for accepting me here and allowing me to be present in this trial." All eyes left y/n and focused on the upcoming trial.

With that King Viserys started hearing the petitions. Lord Vaemond had insulted Rhaenyra and her children in the heat of the moment.

"I think my lord it would be wise to honor the words of your brother and Princess Rhaenys as her granddaughter is to be married to Prince Lucerys Velaryon." Y/n Spoke, keeping her calm.

"And would do you think you are to advice me. She- "

"Say it" whispered Daemon.

"Her children are BASTARDS!. She is a whore and you are a bitch who can't mind their business, who know, you might turn out like your father." Vaemond screamed.

"Please I ask your not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father" said y/n.

"I.... Will have your tongue for that." As Viserys took out his dagger, Daemon easily cut Vaemond's head in and angle that the tongue hanged freely.

"He can keep his tongue" said Daemon. "Disarm him" spoke the guards.

"No need" said Daemon.

When Daemon slashed Vaemond's head, Helaena sought comfort in Alicent's body, while the brothers remained unfazed.

_________________________________________

As the trial came to an end, Helaena shyly started a conversation with y/n wanting to know about her while Rhaenyra, Lucerys and Jacaerys approached y/n.

"Indeed. None who stay with me or serve me are slaves, rather they are free have their own will and knowledge which I value." Y/n talked with Helaena finding comfort in her.

"Y/n." Spoke Rhaenyra. "Yes your grace?"

"Please do not call me your grace, you are my own flesh and blood. Just call me your aunt." " Very well then aunt Rhaenyra "

"Would mind sharing the stories of your journeys with us niece?" Said Helaena.

"Sure, but I must see my children first, come, I shall show them to you"

As the four followed y/n, Jacaerys felt uneasy at the thought of her having offsprings that are not with him as he felt infatuated with her the moment he saw her.

Near the dragon pit, they saw three dragons unable to be tamed.

"Umbās" wait. Said y/n to the men.

"Do not bring them to the dragon pit and chain them, they are but free beings like humans, let them soar in the sky with their wings."

"Yes your grace" said the men before leaving.

"Meet my children, Rhaegal" referring to the green dragon. "Viserion" the goldish brown dragon. "And Drogon". The black dragon with red highlights.

"You have three dragons?" Asked Jacaerys, relieved that the children y/n referred to are not humans.

"Yes, according to my brothers, my father gave the three dragons eggs that his dragon laid to me as I was his only daughter and the youngest. "

"Your brothers?" Asked Rhaenyra. "Yes, Viserys and Rhaegar, I named my children from them."

"Where are they now?"- Helaena.

"Dead"...... "I'm sorry for your loss" Each one replied.

"It's alright, it is in the past. I have learned to cope with it. Leaving that aside, I'm new here so I don't know the place, I need someone to show me around."

"Ah, Jace would be more than happy to show you around my niece." - Rhaenyra.

Jacaerys nodded. Grateful that his my knew his affection for the new girl.

As Jace led y/n away, Rhaenyra started a conversation with missandei.

"How did a slave girl come to advice y/n Targaryen?"- Rhaenyra asked. To which she replied "She bought me from my master and set me free."

"Free? And what if you wish to go to Naath tomorrow?"

"Then she will give me a ship and some resources to sail away."

"You truly believe that?"

"Yes. I believe in her. All of us who came with her from Essos, we believe in her. She's not out Queen because she's the daughter of some king we never knew. She's the queen we chose."

_________________________________________

King Viserys threw a feast for both his grandchild returning home and lucerys' betrothal.

"I would like to announce a thought I have come upon." Viserys spoke as all eyes went to him.

"I would like to bethroth my grandson Prince Jacaerys to my granddaughter Princess Y/n. She has been away for too long and it seems right that jace gets bethroth as his younger brother has already been."

"I agree father"- Rhaenyra said. Alicent nodded her head and smiled at Rhaenyra.

Jacaerys felt happy as Lucerys teasing poked him.

"Well you'll finally get to lay down with a woman. You do know how the act is done right?" Aegon whispered to Jace.

"Y/n?" Questioned Viserys. "Do you agree to this announcement of mine?"

"If it pleases you Grandfather then yes I agree" y/n replied as she smiled ate Viserys.

The night, for once after ages, was happy and without violence. Helaena and y/n danced together. Rhaenyra and Alicent laughed together. Viserys felt warm at the sight.

That was until Aegon usurped the throne upon king Viserys' death.

_________________________________________

The day Aegon usurped the throne, the family had been divided. Alicent knew that war was inevitable.

The blacks resided in Dragonstone along with y/n and her dragons. Both parties desperately wanted to gain more houses on their side.

Helaena joined the blacks much to the surprise of both sides. All she said was that " I do not wish to partake in this war, I joined the queen to ensure the safety of my children. I have no wish to rule."

Rhaenyra sent Jacaerys to the north as a messenger. He was to inform Lord Cregan Stark of the upcoming war and get their assistance.

Before going, Jace promised y/n that he will return safely, kissing her goodbye.

While Lucerys was sent to Storm's end to earn the favor of Lord Borros Baratheon.

_________________________________________

After both the brothers left, a day or two after Rhaenyra had gone to labor. Unfortunately visenya, Rhaenyra's child, was a stillborn with dragon scales.

As she burned on the pyre, Rhaenyra leaned on to y/n instead of her husband Daemon. That ver evening came the news that Lucerys Velaryon was killed by Aemond Targaryen and his dragon Vhagar.

The shock was too much to handle for Rhaenyra. Y/n knew what this meant. No one could survive the rage of a mother. Y/n wrote a letter to Jace, informing him of the situation.

_________________________________________

Y/n stood near the beach of Dragonstone, watching as vermax and her betrothed returned.

As Jace landed, she gave him a look of sorrow. She hugged him as he wrapped his hands around her tightly, finding comfort in her.

After sometime, she led him to Rhaenyra. She stood as she saw both the mother and the son break down in each other's arms. Rhaenyra extended and arm, asking for y/n to join, which she took without a second thought.

_________________________________________

Y/n was in the council when she noticed that her missandei was not there. The commander of the Unsullied entered the room. Giving his respects to the queen, he turned to y/n and spoke something to her.

What he had said had shocked her. It was visible on her face. Her breathing became uneven. She placed her hand on her forehead. Jace coming to her side in an instant and held her.

"What is the matter?" Jace asked.

The commander replied "Aegon kyvāna naejot execute se khalēsi ráqiros mishanje hemtūbis. Ziry vestretan bona lo ziry wishes naejot rhãenagon zyhon mēre mōrī jēda, ziry līs sagon ry dārys tegorīr ry dawn hemtūbis.

Aegon plans to execute the khaleesi's friend Missandei tomorrow. He said that if she wishes to meet her one last time, she must be at kings landing at dawn tomorrow.

This must be because of Aemond's death. y/n thought.

"I must leave at once, prepare Drogon." Y/n commanded as the commander nodded and left.

"You can't leave alone." Argued Baela.

"But I can't abandon her!"

"Let Jace go with you, if an ambush does occur, both of you will take your dragons and leave at once." Rhaenyra said, knowing full well how much it can hurt to lose someone you love.

Y/n nodded and sprinted out. She and Jacaerys approached their dragons and flew to kings landing once they had climbed on them.

_________________________________________

Y/n stood their on the ground, holding onto Jacaerys' hand as she saw Aegon, Otto, Missandei and a guard standing on a tower. Upon seeing her, Aegon had smirked at her

He asked missandei "any last words? Because now is the time."

Missandei looked away from Aegon and to y/n. After a second the guard took out his sword and angled it.

Y/n could feel her tears trickling down her face. Missandei looked at her and Said "Dracarys!". And she was beheaded.

Y/n spared Aegon one last look of hatred as she left kings landing with Jace.

_________________________________________

Upon her arrival, all could see her sorrow and anger. They knew even if there had been a chance before, there is no chance now to avoid war.

" prepare the soldiers, we will attack at once" y/n commanded to her commanders of both the dothraki and Unsullied.

She turned to Rhaenyra and said "be prepared to take back that throne, it will not be so easy with both daemon and Rhaenys along with their dragons gone."

"We will attack tomorrow which will take them by surprise as some of your army is in kings landing itself, you only need to inform them of the plan."

"Hm.. I will send a raven"

_________________________________________

As all left the room, only Jace remained with y/n. As Jace walked upto her, she broke down causing Jace to run upto her to catch her.

"She died alone, she died for me and I couldn't protect her" y/n cried in Jacaerys' chest as he held the head to his chest, shushing her and telling her everything will be okay once the war has ended.

_________________________________________

Rhaenyra, Jacaerys,Y/n, Rhaena, Baela, Cregan Stark were all dressed up for battle.

They were reaching the beach where the armies: Dothraki, Unsullied, Northerners and the rest were assembled.

As they approached , they saw a dragon falling from the sky. It had an arrow piercing it heart and neck.

Upon realisation, y/n ran to the dragon. Wailing out "no.. no no no!.... Not him as well."

Baela and Rhaena held a hand on their mouth in shock. Jacaerys could feel your sorrow as Rhaenyra held her head down. Even though Cregan Stark didn't know her well, he felt a sense of guilt upon seeing her crying face.

"He had no fault. Why did he had to die? Why my little child? Why my Viserion?" Y/n cried as she held the head of her 3rd dragon.

As if on que Rhaegal and Drogon landed as the dragon watchers brought the dragons of others with them. Drogon and Rhaegal sensed your sorrow. They laid their heads and bodies on either side of you, softly whimpering.

"I am his child aren't i?........ I am the Mad King's Daughter. The same blood flows through both of our veins."

"Y/n..." Jace softly whispered.

"Nyke jāhor keligon syt daōrun ēva nyke avenge ziry" Declared y/n.

I will not stop until I avenge them.

A sentence every human on that lives, fears.

She gently let go of the head of Viserion. She stepped in front of her soldiers. Rhaena and Baela had left on their dragons for their part of the plan.

"Jāhor ao ossēnagon issa enemies isse poja āegenka ármor?" Spoke y/n.

Will you kill my enemies in their iron Armor?

The dothraki roared as the Unsullied stomped their spears on the ground.

"Jāhor qūvy ilagon poja dōron lenton?"

Will tear down their stone houses?

They did the same movement again.

"Jāhor ao sagon rēisīr issa?"

Will You be with me?

Again the same.

"Sīr?!! Se forever??!"

This time the sound was extremely loud.

Y/n spoke those words while her tears ran freely.

Jacaerys and Cregan had left, leaving behind only Rhaenyra and y/n.

The commander of the Unsullied came to her "Khaleesi what are we to do? We await your orders." Y/n looked at her family with a look that looked as if she is dead, her eyes hollow and had rage in them.

She looked away from them and to her commander and said " burn". The commander was puzzled.

"Khaleesi?"

"Burn them all..... Burn each and everyone that rebels."

She turned to the Unsullied and declared her orders-

"Dovaogédys!"

Unsullied

"Aeksia ossēnātās!"

Slay the masters

"Menti ossēnātās!"

Slay the soldiers

"Qiloni pilos lue vale tolvie ossēnātās!"

Slay every man who holds a whip.

The soldiers marched forward , the ships sailed, their arrows prepared.

"Y/n.. you have stained your hands with blood by giving those orders." Rhaenyra gently spoke.

"My hands have been stained long ago, back when I was only seven. I don't fear anything anymore. Do know how I stained my hands ?"

_________________________________________

Flashback:

"No no no! Let her go!! Take anything you want but let her go!!" A seven year old girl screamed.

"I wonder how a stark and a Targaryen is living together?" A man asked.

"Eh, we don' care bout' that do we now mate? We've got double luck" A second mam replied.

"Letz use this one first shall we?" The first man smirked and said.

A seven year old y/n saw her stark sister whom had saved her get raped in front of her.

She scream for them to let her go desperately trying to cut the rope tying her hands together with her hidden dagger.

Both men were focused on their pleasure. The stark girl was screaming in pain when y/n finally broke free.

She took her dagger and shoved it into the 2nd man's neck causing him to hold his neck as he bled out.

The first man kicked her in the stomach as he tried to hold her. Y/n had kicked him in the crotch, he screamed in pain. As y/n got a hold of her dagger, she stabbed the man repeatedly. Her face and body covered in the blood those men. Her golden and violet eyes shone from the fire that burned in the fire place.

When she calmed down, she hurried to the stark whom she thought of as her sister. She felt the warmth of her sister slip away from her grasp as she cried and screamed whilst being covered in blood.

_________________________________________

Rhaenyra felt tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She felt sympathy for the little girl of seven who had to suffer so much pain.

"I never knew my parents, I only ever heard the rumors and stories from my brothers before they were murdered.

People say that my father killed many with wild fire before he died. I will show them what a raged Targaryen looks like."

With that y/n flew away to the battlefield with Drogon and Rhaegal.

_________________________________________

Jace felt as if he was getting suffocated . Too many men were sticking together and was getting squashed.

Suddenly roars were heard in the sky. There she was. Y/n Targaryen. With her two dragons.

"Dracarys!"

Half the men were burned to death. The dragon continued to burn the enemy soldiers.

Sunfyre had confronted Drogon. As the dragons rebelled against each other, y/n jumped from Drogon and landed on sunfyre, piercing her sword through Aegon's chest as he fell from the saddle.

She landed on the ground as Drogon took off to burn more soldiers, y/n approached Aegon who was cowering.

"Who are you exactly?!" He asked.

"The daughter of ......Death.." with that she beheaded him. As she continued slaying, she didn't even stop, going on a rampage.

_________________________________________

When the war came to an end, Jacaerys searched for his lover like a mad man. He may have been tired but he searched refusing to give up.

When he found her, he stilled. Her eye patch was gone. Behind her was Drogon and Rhaegal whose were beside her. In her arms was the head of Aegon the Usurper.

Her eyes to the full display for the world. Her golden eye shoned in the sun for the first time in forever. Her body was covered with blood, it dripped from her head. Tears were streaming down her face.

( The reference picture took a some time to draw)

Reference picture:

Jacaerys caught y/n before she fell. Her head on his chest as her vision faded.

_________________________________________

Y/n and Jacaerys had cut their hands and held them together. Cut their lips and drank from the same cup. The septa reciting the vows that they were to take. As the vows end, the two of kissed passionately infront of all.

Their wedding had been the old valyrian way. Lord Cregan gave both of them two dire wolves, one pitch black and one as white as the stars above.

Many were lost, but they must get past the memories for themselves and the future generations.

_________________________________________

10 months later from their consummation day. Y/n laid in their chambers. Panting and sweating. She tried her best to get the babe out of her.

Each moment that passes, Jacaerys felt the urge to barge in the room. One scream of agony threw him off as he opened the door and went beside his wife, supporting her from the back.

"I can't do it Jace. It's too difficult." She pleaded.

"Yes you can avy jorrāelan. I am here with you." Jacaerys replied.

My love.

"My lady you must push!" Said the midwives and maester. Y/n grunted and muffled scream escaped her as pushed with all her might.

A cry could be heard. "A boy my prince" said the maester.

A second of relieve washed over y/n before she was in pain again. "It's seems the princess is having twins, quick hurry!" Spoke a midwife.

After 5 hours of struggle, there laid two boys on each of the arms of the parents.

"My prince I must take the children to the wetnurse for their feeding" spoke a maid. "They will feed from their mother, me and my wife have decided it." Replied Jacaerys.

Y/n smiled at his words as the maid adjust her robes so both her son's could feed from her at the same time. As the maid left the room, Jacaerys placed his hand on his son who was attached to your right breast.

"What names do wish for avy jorrāelan?" Spoke y/n.

My love.

"How about you name the left one and I name the right? We both shall have our turn." Replied Jace.

Very well then what name do you suggest?- y/n.

"Daenys, to honor Daemon The Rogue Prince and Rhaenys The queen who never was." Jace spoke.

"Ah my beautiful Daenys." - y/n.

"What about you my love?" - Jacaerys.

"Rhaecerys, to honor my brother Rhaegal and your brother Lucerys." Spoke y/n .

Jace could feel tears build up. Suddenly Rhaenyra burst in with the others.

"Where are my grand babies?"- Rhaenyra.

"Here mother." Jace handed Rhaenyra the children before fixing his wife's gown because she was to tired as he referred.

"What are their names?" - Rhaenyra.

"Daenys and Rhaecerys" spoke y/n.

As Rhaenyra left , Jace put the babies in their cribs which was situated in their room upon the lady's request. He kissed her passionately, thanking her for the everything she gave him.

........She burned her enemies for her child and best friend. She burned them all. And would not hesitate to burn them again if they dare try to harm her family....

......After all.

...............Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor....

A dragon is not a slave.

[painted-flag]

From Eden IV - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x daenys velaryon

✧.* summary: it is the eve of Daenys and Benjicot's wedding and each are celebrating with loved ones. while their celebrations are cheery, it is the calm before the storm; heading closer to disaster.

✧.* word count: 3.5k

“And on that day, there had never been more drunk people in all of the Seven Kingdoms!” Rhaenyra jested. Daenys, Baela, and Rhaena erupt into laughter at the finale of the story. They had been secluded in a room and idly snacking and drinking wine. Daenys, unfortunately, was not able to participate in the feasting on account of her dress fitting. She stood on a raised dias in the room, sucking in her stomach and praying for her release. There was no denying her eagerness to marry Ben, but the dress fitting she could do without.

It was the day before her marriage ceremony to Benjicot and she was being put through one final check of her dress. Rhaenyra used the excuse of making sure everything was made perfect before the big day, but truly she wanted to spend as much time with her daughter as possible until her departure to Raventree Hall. Their afternoon was spent talking of gossip and excitement for the wedding. 

The main dressmaker bowed to Rhaenyra, “The dress is complete, princess.” 

Daenys resisted to urge to sigh loudly, for her feet were tired from standing for hours. She immediately marched behind one of the dividers in the room and began to get out of the dress with the help of some handmaids. By the time she had gotten ready again, the dressmaker was gone and the maids followed.

Daenys went to the lounge area where all the women were talking. Baela already had a goblet of wine poured for her and passed it into her hand when she sat down with them. Daenys gave her stepsister a thankful smile before taking a sip. 

“Do you have any more wild stories like that?” Rhaena asked as she picked up a grape from the silver platter on the table and popped it into her mouth. 

“Oh, well it depends on your definition of wild, my dear,” Rhaenyra responded. She leaned back in her chair and gently rubbed her stomach. Her pregnancy had progressed well, with little discomfort or worry from the maester. It would only be a few months until the infant is expected to come. 

“Surely you have a story to rival the one from before?” Baela joined her sister in prodding for information. Daenys took a sip from her cup while her mother spoke. 

“I do have one story with a Blackwood.” Daenys choked on her wine and placed her cup down in a fit of coughs. Baela and Raena laughed at her frantic movements. 

“You what, mother?” Daenys questioned. She grabbed a handkerchief and wiped the wine from her chin with slight embarrassment. 

Rhaenyra had a playful look on her face, “When I was a young girl, I had a tour for suitors. One of them was a Blackwood. He had to have been… maybe ten and two at that time. A charming young boy, but much too young. Oh, whatever was his name… Warren… Wesley…” 

“Willem?” Daenys questioned. She had begun to lean forward in her seat. 

“Ah, yes, that was his name. A Bracken lad had insulted him and at that point, I just wished to leave. He managed to cut him down despite being half his size.” Rhaenyra plopped a grape into her mouth upon finishing. She told the story as if it was a casual topic of discussion.

“Willem did that? He never mentioned anything about it when I visited Raventree Hall.” Daenys had grabbed the pitcher to fill her cup. “He did mention that he met you once… but nothing about killing a man in front of you.” 

In the first month of her courtship with Ben, he had taken her to Raventree Hall. Daenys got to see his ancestral home and meet his family. His father, Samwell, had been a copy of his son. She could tell where he got his shyness and fierce will from. She was grateful to be welcomed so easily into the family, even prior to their engagement. Willem and Alysanne, Ben’s aunt and uncle, were a joy to be around. It took them a few days to get used to the presence of a princess, but after the ice was broken Daenys meshed in so well with them. 

It was two weeks into her stay that Benjicot had officially asked for her hand in marriage, beneath the colossal weirwood tree in the godswood. It was part of a planned dinner they had together, a tale of sweetness she wished to keep to herself. 

“The Bracken boy asked for it, to be so disrespectful in front of a hall of lords and me, their princess. A scandal to be sure.” Her mother responded. 

“Speaking of Blackwoods,” Baela turned to Daenys, “How is your Blackwood, cousin?” 

“I feel there is something else behind your words.” Daenys countered. 

“We want to know about him!” Rhaena shifted in her seat with excitement. 

Daenys shrugged, “You have already met him, many times. Why-” 

“The details, ñuha prūmia,” Rhaenyra began, “How does he treat you? What drove you to such an engagement, other than to benefit my place as heir?” 

Daenys paused and thought for a moment. There really was no explanation as to why she gravitated towards him so easily. There was no struggle to know him, or awkward first meetings. She had a connection to him, and that was all there was to it. 

“It’s… more than just knowing someone your whole life. Conversation flows easily with him as if we had always known one another. Perhaps we were acquainted that well in a past life. Truly, I cannot explain it. It just feels right, as everything is as it's supposed to be.” Daenys did not believe her words had been poetic, as surprisingly that was Ben’s talent, not hers. However, the gentle awe from the women around her showed that her words were enough. 

“He is a gentleman, from what I have seen so far,” Rhaena added, and the other women nodded in agreeance. 

“And what is your gentleman up to on the eve of your wedding?” Baela asked. 

“Oh, Kermit and Oscar Tully arrived just this morn. They are most likely training in the courtyard now, nothing too strenuous.” Daenys answered. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

“Drink, drink, drink, drink!” The joined chants of Oscar, Kermit, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Daemon carried through the feasting hall of Dragonstone. Ben had a large pitcher of ale clutched in both of his hands. He was currently chugging the drink to the encouragement of the men around him. Some drops of ale spilled from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Once he finished, Ben slammed the drink on the feasting table and raised his arms in victory. All of the men broke into celebratory hollers. 

“Nice one, laddie!” Oscar Tully patted his friend on the back. 

Ben had planned on having a calm night, perhaps some training with friends, but those plans had been dashed when Daemon decided to host a dinner to celebrate the occasion. Ben could not deny him, for he was still unsure of the prince's thoughts on his and Daenys union. What was a slightly tense dinner had quickly faded the more ale they consumed. The only one who was sober had been Lucerys, as he was limited to only a few drinks. 

Jacaerys saw his brother try and sneak another glass and quickly snatched the pitcher, “I do believe you have reached your limit, brother.” 

“Just one more, Jace.” Lucerys pleaded. 

“I don’t think one more drink could do him any harm,” Ben defended his soon-to-be brother-in-law. 

Daemon nodded after taking a bite of his steak, “I agree with Lord Benjicot over there. One more drink won’t harm. Plus, it is time Luke begins to learn the ways of men.” 

“And the perfect way to do that is with what men know most - ale.” Kermit pitched in. 

“See, if the wedding were to happen in Kings Landing,” Daemon began as he picked up his cup and scanned his gaze across those at the table, “I could have shown you all the real way to celebrate. I know all the best brothels.” 

The men, besides Lucerys, laughed. Ben responded, “Well, Daenys wished for it to be on Dragonstone. Alas, my prince, I would have had to deny such an invite as I do not frequent such establishments.” Ben waved his hand in polite dismissal. He gazed at the food on his plate and decided he had eaten enough for the evening. 

“The honourable Lord Benjicot, faithful to his lady.” Jace teased as he put down a pitcher of ale, “Tell me, which one is the true commander in your union?” 

“I do as my princess bids, Jace.” Ben chided back at his jest. 

“Yes, yes, I understand your sentiment but such sweet words are boring me.” Daemon poured more wine into his goblet, “Let us drink some more.”

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

“You’ve done an awful lot of teasing about my marriage, yet we have not talked about yours,” Daenys spoke as they glanced at Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra giggled at her daughter's words and hid her laughter from behind her goblet of wine. The two sisters looked around the room with visible nervousness. The ladies had moved from one of the lounge rooms and into another for dinner. The sun had set long ago, and flickering candles illuminated the room. It was a calm night, with little wind and gentle waters.

“We are not betrothed,” Baela answered. 

“But you will be soon,” Rhaenyra expressed, “And it is important that you keep that in mind.” 

Rhaena looked to Daenys, “There doesn’t happen to be another available Blackwood?” 

“Unfortunately, no. You needn’t worry, I do not care how many lords I will have to fight, you shall marry a man who is kind like you.” Daenys asserted. She had felt similar fear when looking at her prospects for marriage in the past. It is no surprise that it is also felt by Baela and Rhaena. She made a vow to herself to petition for their right to go about and seek a husband, rather than all the lords seek them out. 

Daenys reflected often on her luck with both happiness and deep sorrow. She was grateful for her situation, to be married to a man like Benjicot - more so in her ability to choose. However, her heart ached for the other women of the realm; both high and low-born. For the highborn ladies are ferried off like lambs to slaughter. She could not imagine what that was like for those born in the position of lower prospects. 

Daenys stifled a yawn, which caught her mother's attention. 

Rhaenyra rose from her seat, “The hour is late and tomorrow is such a big day. It is well past time we rest.” 

There were no complaints from any in the room. They all had been fighting off the coming sense of exhaustion in favour of speaking more. Baela and Rhaena gave both Daenys and Rhaenyra gentle hugs goodbye, with quick comments of luck to Daenys for her ceremony on the morrow. Once alone, the mother-daughter duo made their way through the dimly lit halls of Dragonstone and to Daenys’ room. Rhaenyra sat on one of the plush chairs in from of a burning hearth. Daenys got on the floor in front of her and waited patiently as her mother took out all of her braids and twists. The feeling of a brush being softly put through her hair nearly lulled her to sleep. 

There were no exchanges of words for the entirety of it. Nothing needed to be said. All that was left were two women wishing to be in one another's company, for such a thing would turn into a luxury once Daenys was married and carted off to the Riverlands. 

It was an unyielding fear in Daenys that she had not expressed to anyone, even Ben. Her time in the Riverlands was the longest she had been apart from her mother. It had only been bearable because she had the presence of her brother and the knowledge that she would return to Dragonstone. With her marriage to Ben, she would be tied permanently to Raventree Hall. It was not something she detested. She was excited for her marriage and had made good friends with the Blackwoods, but it was still new. 

Visits were possible, but they would be few and far between. As much as Daenys fought to build her reputation beyond a princess, she was deep down still a little girl basking in the light of her mother. A life of barely seeing Rhaenyra would be a life difficult to get used to. Adding to that fear was the prospect of becoming a mother herself. Daenys was not ready to be a mother. How could she, if she could barely part from her own?

“I know you care deeply for Benjicot,” Rhaenyra began as Daenys moved to sit beside her, “but if you have any regret or uncertainty, tell me and we can delay the ceremony. I do not want you to feel like it's too late.” 

Daenys looked fondly at her mother, “I do wish to marry him, truly. I am scared… about how I will be as a wife and most of all being parted from Dragonstone. I don’t wish to lose you, mother.” 

“Oh, ñuha prūmia,” Rhaenyra began, “You will never lose me.” She reached out and cupped her daughter's face. 

“Things are changing, greatly so.” 

“That happens in life. We grow up, get old, and move on from things. Listen, you will always be welcome here, any moment you can come on Suneater and visit as often as you'd like. I will do the same and visit Raventree Hall whenever possible.” Rhaenyra reassured her daughter. 

“You will be busy in a few months taking care of the babe.” Daenys spoke, “How is Visenya, anyways?” She had been insistent that the babe her mother was carrying would be a girl. Even more so had she been insistent that the child be named Visenya. Rhaenyra was inclined to follow her daughter's words. Her belly had begun to show a few moons ago, so it was only a matter of time until the birth. 

“Visenya moves often. It feels the same as all the other pregnancies before. Painful and uncomfortable, but worth it.” Rhaenyra answered. 

“Well, I do not envy you.” Daenys picked at the fabric of her dress. 

“Soon you will be in the same position.” Daenys frowned at her mother's words and continued to distract herself from the topic. Rhaenyra sensed her daughter's hesitancy and decided it was best not to push any further. 

“I think it is best that you get all the rest you can.” The heir got out of her seat with the help of Daenys. As she was being guided out the door, she turned back to her child, “You will always be my first daughter and my biggest priority.” She kissed Daenys on the head before parting down the hall. 

Daenys watched her mother go until she turned down another hallway. Once out of sight, she closed the door and proceeded to undress. She got into her nightclothes, a thin chemise, and crawled into bed. While she was plagued with exhaustion, the excitement for the next day exceeded it. She tossed and turned for a while, unable to fall asleep. It was after another turn in her bed that she huffed loudly and sat up. 

She shuffled out of bed and made her way to one of the windows. Daenys perched on the padded sitting area and watched the night sky. The moon hung in the sky amongst the stars. The shimmering light cast down on the gently moving water surrounding the island. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on one while wrapping her arms around her legs. 

The familiar creaking of the secret door in the far corner of the room pulled Daenys from her thoughts. She turned around to see Ben tumble into her room. When the door opened fully, he stumbled and almost lost his balance. Despite the near fall, it did not look like he was phased by it. 

“My lovely wife!” His voice, slightly slurred, called out. Daenys had never been more surprised by his actions. She could clearly see his intoxicated state. 

“Quiet down, Ben. Someone could hear.” She tried to keep her voice down. 

Ben paused and stood in the corner for a moment as if he was slowly processing her words. His arms hung at his sides and the clothing her wore was ruffled slightly. His breath was laboured. 

“Oh!” He acknowledged but followed it up with hushed laughter, “My apologies, my lady.” He went to bow but struggled immensely to keep his balance when doing it. He walked shakily over to her and plopped himself down. Ben leaned his back against the vertical part of the window and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. Daenys unravelled and leaned into him while stretching out her legs. Ben had his legs bent at the knees, essentially caging her in. 

“And, pray tell, why are you so drunk?” Daenys questioned. 

Ben rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed, “Daemon wished to have dinner with me, your brothers, and my friends. It was amusing.” 

“I can tell by the scent of ale on you. Why have you come to my room so late? You should be resting and working off the drinking.” Her words were followed by a whine-like noise escaping his throat. 

“But I want my wife.” Ben buried his head in her hair and inhaled the scent. 

Daenys trembled from his touch, “Tomorrow, I shall be your wife.” Ben let out a hum of contentment at her words, his lips rumbling against her skin.

“You question why I am up so late, yet you happen to be awake.” Ben teased. 

“Sleep could not come.” She answered him, “I am excited, ‘tis all.” 

He kissed her neck. Though he was still drunk, Ben steeled himself, “I know what has been bothering you, and it has not been the wedding preparation. I know Raventree Hall may never be considered your home, and I am alright with that. I hope you recognize that you will be safe and content under my protection. House Blackwood may not be swimming in gold, but we have enough to be well comfortable.” 

“It is not that,” Daenys said as she grabbed one of his hands and began to play with it, “I love your home, truly. It will take me a while to adjust, but all will be fine. If I am being honest… you are my home, Ben.” She leaned back to kiss his cheek. 

Ben’s hold on her tightened as his arms wound tighter around her waist, “Raventree Hall will always be open to your family for visits. They can stay as long as they wish to.” 

“Thank you, Ben.” Daenys gaze moved back to the stars in the sky. 

“I spoke to your stepfather before coming,” Ben spoke after a few moments of silence. Daenys tensed at his words, unsure of how their conversation went. 

He saw her unease and continued, “It was good. Prince Daemon and I spoke privately. He made me take a vow, that is all. I do believe we found common ground.” 

“What vow?” Daenys inquired. 

“That I would protect you with my life. Honour you as my wife. That I pledge fealty to House Targaryen and come to serve in the event of conflict.” Ben swiped his thumb up and down on her stomach, rubbing in soothing motions. He lifted his head to rest his chin on the top of her head. 

“So you are aware of the tension in my family?” 

“The tension is across the seven kingdoms, love. Not many lords acknowledge their distaste for your mother as heir but rather hide it. When that comes to the surface…” He trailed off. Daenys felt the tension in his body and she knew he was just as inclined to the state of the kingdom as her. 

“That is something to worry about later,” Ben told her, “For now, you must sleep.” Daenys shifted in his hold to get more comfortable. She tilted to the side to get a better vision of the night sky. Ben began to run his hands up and down her arm. 

Daenys closed her eyes and allowed herself to be lulled to sleep by Ben’s repetitive movements. It was only after her chest started to rise and fall in calm movements that Ben assessed her to finally be asleep. He maneuvered himself slowly off of the ledge while holding her in his arms. Ben walked across her room and to her bed. He leaned down to pull back the covers while keeping her steady. He placed Daenys into her bed and pulled the covers over her body, tucking in the sides tenderly. 

The Blackwood man placed a kiss on her forehead, “Until tomorrow, love.” 

______________

✧.* note: we are getting closer and closer to the war - super exciting. how long do you think peace during their marriage will last? just something to think on, lol.

if you want to be added to any taglist i have, you can fill out a response here.

✧.* taglist:  @credulouskhaleesi @username199945 @haydee5010 @yeolsbubbles @f1wh0recom @cococrazy18 @poppyflower-22 @eevanie @dumpmyblues

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈𝐈

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

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, it is kind of implied that Daemon has hit reader before, or that reader is aware Daemon is violent

>You loved Rhaenyra

>As a child, she'd always make time for you, and eagerly wait for your arrival. She always wished for a girl, and while doing your hair and telling you tales, she always said you were everything she could ever desire in a lass

>So before she married your father, you loved Rhaenyra

>You loved Daemon

>Your father had always doted on you, you had always been his favorite. He defended you fiercely against any slander, and reminded you that all that mattered was that you were dragonborn, you were his seed and carried the Targaryen lineage. You were his first born, his little girl

>So before he married Rhaenyra, you loved your father

>But then you had too look at yourself in the mirror while being dressed for the big day of your father's not first, not second but third wedding day. Not even a year later of Laena's passing

>You remembered Rhaenyra flying with your father and step-mother, while your uncle Laenor would stay on land with you

>You look back at that memory, and can't help but imagine Laena's reaction

>They married in secret, just them, a septon and you

>When you asked your father why your sisters or Rhaenyra's kids were there, he said he trusted you the most

>But you didn't, you didn't trust him anymore

>It was never spoken, but you knew Laenor's "mysterious" death somehow involved them

>This marriage also meant you would have to say goodbye to your sisters, Rhaena and Baela, who would stay in Driftmark

>They both wept, and Rhaena threw a tantrum, but it was to no avail

>And as much as you loved Jace, Luke and Joffrey, they were not your sisters

>Despite the warnings, that year you mounted your dragon for the first time

>Two of the dragon keepers had to run through the halls of dragonstone to inform your father of your dissaparence along with Dagahrion's, it was not difficult to put two and two together

>He got on Caraxes and chased after you

>Like a wise hand once said, not being capable of controlling your daughter seemed to be a tradition in the house of Targaryen

>It was not hard to find you, Dagahrion had grew even concerningly so in the last season, making him easy to spot

>The dragon was shaking, unused to being rode, Daemon begged to every god he had ever disappointed to please allow you to survive, anxiety pooling in his gut

>You were hugging Dagahrion as hard as you could, with your eyes shut. Tears streaming down your cheeks, your face felt like it was freezing due to the wind hitting you. Your garments were restrictive, causing your legs to be tightly wrapped around the scales of his neck

>"Lykirī, lykirī" you kept screaming to your dragon, until he steadied and finally landed at your command

>You were surprised to see Caraxes land with you, your father's screams were inaudible between the fear, the wind and Dagahrion's noises

>When you got off your dragon, your father's expression made your blood run cold. He approached, and you knew by his stance, he could only mean to hit you as soon as he was close enough, you fearfully walked towards him

>But instead of a slap, he hugged you so close to his chest you had trouble breathing. But you did not care, you simply let him silently suffocate you, you can feel his worry, his anger, the turmoil inside him, his heartbeat says it all

>He slowly lets go, and proclaims "I will not have any daughter of mine fall off her dragon, be aware" it sounded like a threat, but you knew in what terms your sire had always spoken in

>He took you home to Dragonstone, on Caraxes, having Dagahrion follow

>When you came back, you noticed Rhaenyra's arm was bleeding once again, she had developed the bad habit of picking on the stitches when she was anxious, but never on this level

>She ran to hug you, and you smelled her blood, the same blood of the valyrian ceremony

>It was difficult to forgive, but you did

>You exchanged multiple letters with Alicent Hightower, and she had always reminded you, that the seven watch after you, and know you have the strength to forgive

>You had spoken to her plainly.

>"[...] You said my father will never love Rhaenyra more than he loves me, but that is not what afflicts me. He may love me more, but I am competent —as competent as any person with a fine set of two eyes— to see he loves her more than lady Laena. She was not my mother, but in her heart of gold, she held me, and at the risk of disrespect, I dare to say she was the closest I could get. I wonder if dragons would get to feel this way too, Caraxes is a son of Dreamfyre and Vermithor, yet they are all apart, and Dagahrion is a son of Vhagar, but has no sire that we know of. Do they feel lonely? I wish they do not, I don't wish for their misery."

>"My dearest Y/N.

Despite my many years here, I do not know about dragons as nearly much as I'd like. They are miraculous creatures, but like any one of us, they were created by the god of seven faces, So I believe they are capable of such emotions. But princess, do not think only of their misery, think of their joy. If I am not overstepping, then may I offer you a solution for both predicaments of loneliness? Both Dagahrion and your grace are the blood of the dragon, and if it pleased you to remain surrounded by your kin, you are always welcome to King's Landing, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, Vhagar, Vermithor and their riders are always honored to give you company. Perhaps one day you'll call the red keep your home, if you'll excuse my boldness.

While you are not at arms reach from me, I keep you in my mind and my prayers. Pray to the mother, sweet child, you need her like one day I needed her.

Warm regards."

>No matter how much Alicent spoke of him, you did not want anything to do with Aemond for a long time, it was painful

>But you would send one raven for Daeron and one for Helaena almost every week

>Daeron was everything you once saw in his older brother, a knight, a hero. And he was oh so gentle, just like his sister. Perhaps it was due to his position as the youngest, but Daeron never screamed to be heard, never dolled up to be seen, he was gentle like a summer breeze, and never tried to control the conversation in your corresponde

>And as time passed and you kept Alicent's words in your head, your step-brothers also became close companions, each of them sweeter than the last one, the Velaryon boys were like warm honey in your presence, sweet and sticky

>Jace was always respectful, but there was some things you didn't know about him

>Like how he stole an old nightgown of yours to cuddle with at night, or how he keeps hiding your quills so you'll stop writing Daeron

>At some point it is impossible to hide your correspondence from your family, causing Daemon to forbid the servants from giving you birds. This ultimately fails, as you always charm the servants into doing whatever you want

>You sometimes travel to King's Landing on dragonback along with Rhaenyra, you can see that side your family, and Rhaenyra can closely watch the Hightowers actions

>Despite everything, this time was happy

>You loved Rhaenyra, and Daemon, and Alicent, and Viserys, and Jace, Luke and Joffrey, you loved Daeron and Helaena

>But what a horrible feature life has, when everything that is wonderful is meant to end