#princess daenys
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maggie-stormborn · 6 months ago
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"The Future of House Targaryen" by @samartworksblog from my fanfiction "Truly The Mother of Dragons".
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"The Targaryen babes wouldn't sleep without the hatchlings, it was immediately found out. They would cry for each other immediately, and so it was that no one would dare part them. Princess Rhaenyra would always sleep with her hands clasped around the wing thumbs of the hatchlings on either side of her - it would later be said she was impatient to ride a dragon from birth. She was noted to always sleep near the hatchling of brilliant silver with violet crests, wings, and horns that would be come to known as Daenyxes, The Silver Queen - named for her beloved mother, Queen Daenerys I Targaryen. Prince Aemon would always rest with his head upon the indigo and bronze hatchling named Nightweaver - their bond was evident from this alone but they would become the subject of one of the most beloved songs in all of Westeros, originally written and sung by his younger sister, Princess Daenys. The youngest of the triplets was a restless sleeper, often moving and crying in the night. She would seek comfort from the hatchlings around her and easily find it, most diligently by the violet and copper hatchling, Dreamflame - named for the she-dragon Dreamfyre of House Targaryen who had laid the eggs to one day hatch Rhaegal, Viserion, and Drogon. Dreamflame would often wrap herself around the whimpering babe, calming her back into a sound slumber.
Bloodwrath, as the red and gold hatchling would eventually come to be called, would wake at the slightest stir with suspicious hissing and spread his wings in defense if it proved to be a cat or mouse. Joraxes, the deep green and black hatchling named after Ser Jorah the Andal, would often sleep wrapped around the sky blue and pale silver, named Barrax after Ser Barristan Selmy. And the beautiful Soulfyre, with bronze scales that faded into gold wings and crests, and ethereal eyes the color of milk and honey, would often captivate the Targaryen babes with even his most minor movements, shining brilliantly even in the dark of the royal nursery at night. A grand royal painting was commissioned of the sleeping newborn prince and princesses with their hatchlings that would hang in the nursery of Dragonstone."
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ladydreamfyyreee · 6 months ago
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 “𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐬“
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𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍!!!🙇🏻‍♀️
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𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧!!!🙇🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️
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senblvd · 4 months ago
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Daenys the Dreamer
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sena-seastar · 3 months ago
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Bad Sleeping Habits
Dad!Aemond x Wife!Reader
Summary: Aemond has trouble being firm with your daughter.
A/N: This is just a little drabble I wrote. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!
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Aemond had always been a light sleeper, even more so after the birth of your daughter. He had always been the first to wake up and rush to her side anytime she made the slightest noise. So when he heard her shuffling out of bed in the middle of the night, he woke up immediately. He didn’t get up, instead choosing to wait and see what she was up to.
The two of you had been trying to get Daenys into the habit of sleeping in her own bed. To say it was a struggle would be an understatement. The two of you had let her sleep between you a few times, and apparently, she took that to mean she had to sleep in your bed every night.
Aemond didn’t honestly mind it. He loved every minute of it. He knows that once she gets older, he won’t get those moments when he can hold her close and have her sleep in his arms anymore. So he wants to hold on to her as long as he can. 
Aemond kept perfectly still as he felt the blanket at the bottom of the bed being tugged down. He used one of his hands to hold onto it so that it would not completely slip off the bed, as Daenys used it as a ladder to climb onto the bed. He pretends to be asleep, though he cracks his eye open just enough to watch his little girl, in case she slips.
She let out a little grunt as she successfully reached the top. Aemond doesn’t move as she climbs over him, most likely trying to take her usual place between the two of you.
He does his best not to cry out when her knee accidentally digs into the flesh of his thigh. He doesn’t want to frighten his little girl or, even worse, wake you up. So, he does his best to bear the pain.
He waits until she reaches the top of the bed before rolling over to face her. She freezes, her eyes wide open, knowing she’s been caught. Though her shock quickly turns to amusement. Daenys gives him a cheeky smile.
“Why are you out of bed?” He whispers. “Go back to sleep,” he scolds her playfully.
“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head, making her little silver curls shake side to side.
 Daenys sits back on her heels—a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Aemond lifts his hands, trying to brace himself. He makes it just in time before she throws herself on top of him. Her little arms wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly as she buries her face into his neck. Messy, silver curls tickle his nose. Aemond shakes his head, trying to push her hair away.
“Fine, you can stay,” he sighs, “but your mother won’t be pleased with us in the morning.”
He grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the both of them.
She yawned, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. “Night, night, kepa.” 
“Goodnight, my little dragon.” He hummed, gently running his hand over her back.
Aemond stared up at the canopy, and once again, he found himself wondering how he had gotten here. What had he done to deserve such happiness? The man had always known he would marry and eventually have children someday. He was a Targaryen prince, after all. Yet he had never imagined it would make him feel so... content. 
“You spoil her too much,” you mumble drowsily.
Aemond turned his head, finding you with your head still buried in your pillow.
“She’s a princess. It's practically in the job description.” He smirked. “Besides, you don't seem to mind when I spoil you.”
“Fine,” you sigh. “But she’s sleeping in her own bed tomorrow.”
Aemond reached over and grabbed your hand. He lifted it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
“Goodnight, my love.”
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cherryheairt · 6 months ago
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Dragon Dreamer pt. I
When Rhaenyra followed Jacaerys' suggestion of sending her three eldest children as messengers to call upon bannermen for their queen, Daenys did not expect to be sent to the North.
Perhaps the Eyrie, to treat with Lady Jeyne Arryn, as the widow might have seen a princess coming personally to see her as a sign of great respect. Instead, Jacaerys was being sent to the Vale, and Daenys to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark.
Daenys, although a Targaryen-Velayron princess, had never been gifted in politicking. Never sitting on council meetings as a cup-bearer, never paying much attention to her septas lessons, nor promenading with the court ladies during her time at the red keep. Her only company was her family, her five little brothers and parents. And, of course, her beloved dragon. Rhaenyra liked to jest of how Daenys was perhaps more dragon than girl, spending more time in Dragonstone's nesting caves than her own chambers.
When she was in the company of unfamilar people, she found her throat tightening and her eyes avoiding those of others. Most at court found this behavior to be rude, and indifferent, often ignoring her in favour of more approachable ladies.
Her time in the red keep, though now more of a distant memory, was spent in her chambers or with her dear aunt Helena, who was quite similar to her in most ways, besides the bug collection kept on her desk. Daenys shuttered at the sight every time but tolerated it in favor of spending time with Helena.
It was not always like this. Daenys was born a bright and charismatic young girl, charming the Keep's lords and ladies with her chatty demeanor. Rhaenyra lovingly named her after her ancestor, Daenys the Dreamer, in hopes of her to be blessed and beautiful as she was. Daenys had only one dream to be accounted for, the Doom of Valyria. After saving the Targaryen dynasty, it seemed to be a one-time event.
Daenys, unlike her ancestor, deemed herself cursed instead of blessed. Her dreams started to occur after her fifth nameday, waking up the Keep every night with blood-curdling screams of terror. Every night, guards would come in searching for a threat, only to find the little girl locked in a dead-sleep, thrashing and screeching.
Eventually the intensity of the dreams stopped, to the relief of Rhaenyra and Daenys both. Her dreams still haunted her day and night, but she was no longer waking the keep as she experienced them.
The Queen, Alicent Hightower, looked down upon Daenys as if she was a curse embodied. She called the girl mad, deeming it a fitting punishment for Rhaenyra for her adulterous behavior. Though the scorn was meant to spite Rhaenyra, the only one affected was Daenys.
Shunned by the other young ladies of court, whispered about by the young lords, Daenys found herself friendless and alone in the Red Keep, of all but Helena and her family.
After Joffrey's birth, Rhaenyra had decided she had enough of Alicent's ire and moved her family to Dragonstone. Daenys found it much more agreeable, no court to deal with, and the entire island all to her family alone.
Daenys never recovered from years of ostracizing, still quiet and seemingly rude to any guests of Dragonstone.
"Mother, surely Jacaerys would be a better fit for Lord Stark. I do not think he would be pleased to be sent a girl deemed mad by the queen over the heir to the Iron Throne," Daenys pleaded with Rhaenyra, while they waited for Jacaerys and Lucerys to come.
Rhaenyra, ever so regal in her father's former crown and fine deep-red dress, smiled down at her eldest daughter. Her eyes were still brimmed red with the recent loss of Visenya, though that never stopped her from performing her duty as Queen. "Lord Stark would be delighted to have a princess of the realm visit the north. Never mind what Alicent has said against you. You are gifted in ways only Targaryens will understand. You are my blessing, not my curse."
Daenys picked at the skin of her nails harshly, looking at the cobble she stood on and finding more interest in the damp stone. "I am not like you, mother."
"In what way, sweet girl?" Rhaenyra frowned, reaching to lift her daughter's chin gently, a nonverbal reminder.
Taking a breath in, "I am not so..perfect. You have a million things on your shoulders and never falter once. I..cannot even greet our guests appropriately. I can't do this. Please, let me stay here instead" Glossy-eyed, Daenys squeezed her mother's head with a plea.
Observing her daughter for a minute, Rhaenyra was silent a moment. "You were never meant to be like me. I was a reckless and perhaps foolish girl in my youth, always getting myself into trouble one way or another. You, my girl, are meant to be better. You always have been. It takes time, to learn and heal, there is only one way to do that."
"How can I learn to be like you?" Even the mere thought of it seemed like a dream, distant and unreachable.
"Practicing, tis all. It may seem like I am throwing you to the wolves now, but you can not get better without first trying. Locking yourself on this island has done you no favors, and for that I am sorry. You will see, that it is not so bad out in the world." Rhaenyra squeezed her daughter's hand back, kissing her forehead before stepping away as Jace and Luke finally came.
Holding a hand to the book of The Seven, the three princes and princess swore to only go as messengers for their queen, abhorring all violence.
Daenys said a swift goodbye to her younger brothers before she mounted Morningstar, who had been led to the perch alongside Vermax and Arrax. Fittingly, the dragons sizes corresponded with their ages, largest to smallest.
Morningstar had grown quite fast since her birth alongside Daenys' cradle, almost as big as Meleys now. Vermax and Arrax were smaller in comparison but no less loyal or fierce. The white scales and purple eyes of the dragoness perfectly matched Daenys. Purring at her rider's mount, Morningstar stretched her wings and waited for command.
With a last tight smile to her brothers, Daenys was off with Morninstar across the sea. The three dragons traveled together for almost an hour before splitting to their respective directions. Daenys silently prayed for the safe return of her dear brothers, knowing that they would be home even before she was done treating with the Starks.
◽️
The journey to the North was longer than she had anticipated, boredom and anticipation being her worst enemies. Or, perhaps that title belonged to the biting winds that nipped at her exposed face. Daenys cursed her lack of preparation, only bringing her house cloak for the flight. It was late summer, for the Seven's sake, why was it already so freezing?
To Daenys' surpirse, and also jealousy, Morningstar seemed to enjoy the cold. It was a harsh contract from Dragonstone's humid beaches, but the dragon seemed to have no problem adapting during their ride.
Finally, Winterfell's grey stone Keep was in view, larger than Daenys had anticipated and covered in blankets of pearly snow. Morningstar landing just outside of the gates, shaking off snow from her wings and grumbling at the guards who shakily approached the dismounted princees. It seemed even Northernmen were not brave enough to face a dragon.
Smiling at the sight of such a large man being so timid under the watchful violet eye of Morningstar, Daenys didn't move forward to give the man any peace of mind. Perhaps a little fear was good for rallying bannermen.
The man spoke now, northern accent different than any she had heard before. "State your name and buisness."
Eyeing the dragon at her side, Daenys almost sighed. How many female dragonriders of her age were there in Westeros? Perhaps there were some that she was made unaware of.
Sucking in a breath, and trying to keep her voice steady despite her shivers, Daenys answered. "I am Daenys Valeryon. Messenger to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra."
The guard paused a moment, glancing at his partner, who smartly chose to stay at the gate. There seemed to be a silent conversation happening before the other nodded to an unknown third party. The old gate creaked open, Daenys shifting awkwardly at the silence between the three of them. Why weren't they saying anything.
Finally, "Lord Stark will be with you shortly. You are welcome to warm your hands by the fire inside the keep." The guard said, bowing his head respectively towards the princess.
She nodded, for lack of words to say, thanking him quietly. She followed him into the walls of Winterfell, the stares of the commonfolk following her every step. The whispers started after, Daenys ducking her head and walking faster to attempt to avoid hearing them, but that made no difference when the guard stayed at his steady pace.
"Princess Daenys, 'e said?" A heavy womanly accent leaned into her friend.
"Aye. The mad one, I 'ear."
Daenys shuffled into the keep's dining hall, relieved to find it empty. The guard left fast, assuming his post once more. She took a seat by the hearth, allowing herself to warm up in peace. Curling up, in an unladylike fashion, Haze hoped Lord Stark would take his time. She needed to think about her words carefully and hopefully not stutter them out foolishly because she is still shivering like a dog.
The Gods must truly have it out for her, Daenys cursed, as the Lord himself strided into the room only minutes after she sat. Quickly, she stood to her feet, stumbling slightly at the vertigo hitting her head. "My Lord Cre-Stark." Daenys greeted, bowing her head shortly.
Lord Stark fixed his steel grey gaze on her, pinning her to her spot without so much as a touch. "My princess," he bowed his head, looking into her eyes all the while. His voice was husky with the Northern accent, which Daenys decided sounded best coming from his mouth. He folded his hands in front of himself as if trying to appear less imposing. Failing miserably, of course, with all those heavy furs, leathers, and the longsword strapped to his back. Did he carry that thing everywhere? Normally, lords carried swords at their belts, but longswords were too heavy for that. Daenys shuttered at the thought of such a burden.
"What do I owe the pleasure? Surely, the Queen's daughter does not simply wish to visit the forgotten houses of the North." Though his tone was straight and respectful, the words themselves were slightly bitter, knowing that royalty only visits houses when they need something.
Daenys looked down at her feet a moment, glancing between the floor and his eyes, which were intent on not leaving her own. Shifting, she found herelf lost for words and panicking at what response she should give him, knowing time was ticking by.
He was already upset by the burden of housing her, and knowing that her request was not a light one made her heart drop to her stomach. How does one simply ask for thousands of men to go to war?
Lord Stark hummed at her silence, politely looking to the fire instead of keeping that intense stare on her. "I apologize for my lack of hospitality, princess. I should've shown you to your chambers and allowed you to rest. Your journey was not easy, I'm sure."
Daenys looked up at him, surprised. Both glad to be rid of that intensity and sadden to not see the pretty color anymore, she felt her throat open again. "Of course, my lord. Thank you." The words came slowly, and much quieter than she intended.
As Cregan led her through the keep's halls, Daenya thought of how disappointing it might be to receive a fumbling girl instead of a regal princess. For the first time in over a hundred years, Targaryens visited the North. A shame it had to be her instead of Jace, who never lost his confidence even when being named a bastard.
Cregan stopped at a door, opening to reveal a comely guest chambers, a fire already running at the hearth for her. "I had the servents set up our best, for you. There are some furs in the wardrobe, I hope you'll find them appeasing. I'll see you at supper, princess?" He asked, looking down at her patiently.
From their close proximity in the doorway, Daenys could feel the warmth from him in waves. "I will be there." She told him, nodding shortly. With a charming smile finally adorning his stoic face, Cregan stark left the chambers with a polite bow of his head.
How could he be so kind to her, and patient? After watching that humiliating display she gave him, Daenys was confident he would sneer and send her away, as no lords ever had patience for her fumbling. It certainly didn't help her nerves that he was handsome, a quality not used to describe northmen.
Daenys had always heard of northmen as being fierce, savage warrior men, always loyal and dutiful, but never handsome and mannerly.
Handsome was a term to describe peacocking young southern knights, who have never experienced hardship besides an occasional tourney. It was not a term for scarred and weathered northerners.
Daenys wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad change from her expectations, but she decided not to dwell too much on it. Reaching her frosted window, she made out Morningstar's massivw white shape flying above the keep, most likely looking for a resting spot. She silently hoped that the dragon wouldn't take too much livestock and piss off local farmers.
Hours passed by fast, much to Daenys' misfortune. For hours she spun words around her mind, speaking in whispers to herself to practice what she might say to Cregan's questions. Startled by a maid entering her temporary chambers, Daenys stood from her seat. The woman, older than her mother, gave her a suspicious look. Daenys flushed, feeling her face grow hot in embarrassment at being caught mumbling. It was a nasty habit that didn't help the rumors surrounding her.
"Princess, supper is ready." The maid told her curtly, leaving the room even swifter than she came.
Daenys sighed, throwing a coat of white fur over her shoulders. The weight was heavy but comforting as she walked down the echoing halls of the Keep.
She entered the dining hall to see it dimly lit, the evenings in Winterfell becoming dark much faster than they did back home. "My lord," she greeted, earning a warm greeting back.
Cregan sat alone at the head of a table, reminding Daenys of his status. The Lord was made an orphan at three and ten, becoming lord of his house at six and ten. His brother had also passed years ago, leaving the lord family-less. She wondered how many times he had dined alone, not even being able to imagine such a fate for herself.
Daenys sat opposite him, only a few feet away from each other. For a few minutes, the only sounds were servants suffling about, pouring wine, ale, and serving plates.
"I picked out a sweet wine for you, princess. I know ale is not a preferred drink amonst royalty." Cregan started up, a light look in his eye as he glanced to her over his own cup of strong ale.
"Thank you, my lord. You needn't go out of your way for me, though. I am not picky." She said, voice quiet but loud enough for him to make out in the silent hall.
Cregan laughed, a graveling and husky one that made her stomach tingle with butterflies. "I wouldn't have expected a princess to be so humble. When I saw your dragon fly down, I was expecting a feast to be demanded, our finest accommodations presented for the princess' pleasure." He lifted his cup slightly to her. "You are quite different than what I pictured."
Her face felt hot again, a feeling she would apparently need to get used to during her stay here. She hid behind her chalice of wine, "I hope I do not disappoint my lord."
Shaking his head pointedly, he put his mug down. "That is precisely what I meant," his tone was amused, the bitterness from their first conversation long gone. "I suppose I was wrong about the Targaryens. I admit, I thought you would threaten me with your dragon and demand that I bend the knee, just as our ancestors did."
Daenys met his eye, placing her own cup down. "Do not mistake me for my family. You'll find our methods are quite different in terms of treating. My mother is the queen of the seven kingdoms. This includes your own. I do expect bent knees, and loyalty to our Queen." She stated. "I am merely a messenger this day, I am sworn to peace."
Despite the undertones of a threat in her words, Cregan was not offended or taken aback like she had expected from her sudden mood switch. Insulting her was one thing, but Daenys didn't tolerate disrespect to her family.
He only smiled, corners of his mouth pulling up in a way Daenys couldn't describe. Almost a proud look in his eye gleamed, staring her down once more as she met his line of sight perfectly. Even sitting down their height difference was apparent, him looking slightly down his nose at her.
"And if you weren't a messenger for Her Grace? Would you threaten me with your dragon?" Cregan pondered.
Daenys, fighting the urge to look away, shook her head slightly. "Not unless you gave me a reason to. Would you have sent me away if I came on horseback rather than dragonback?"
"Its an honor to host a princess, dragonrider or not." He said firmly, dark brown tresses falling slightly into his face from the half-up style he decided on. Distracted, Daenys glanced at the way the veins on his hand twitched as he tucked the strand behind his ear.
"I am glad to hear it. I am pleased to be able to visit the North, despite the somber circumstances that we face. It is quite beautiful here, I've never seen snow." Daenys changed the subject, earnestly complimenting his home.
"You've seen enough of it to last a lifetime now, I venture." Cregan dug into his stew, whilst Daenys simply stirred her own.
"I do not fare well in the cold, unlike Morningstar." She mused, smiling to herself.
The two fell into a silence once more, this time more comfortable and less tense. Daenys took small spoonfulls of her meal, not wanting to appear rude or wasteful, simply having little taste for eating in front of strangers. Eventually, Cregan finished his bowl, and she decided that was a good time to let herself set the utensils down.
"Is now a good time to ask your purpose here again, my princess?" He asked her tentatively, as if she would break with a louder tone of voice. Perhaps Cregan thought from their first meeting that she was in some way incapable of her duties, much to her chargin. She swallowed thickly, shifting in her seat.
Daenys pulled out a small scroll from her belt, handing it to him. "The official message from Her Grace.'
He scanned it quickly, a solemn look on his face as he did. Cregan breathed out through his nose, a less dramatic version of a sigh, rolling it up again and pocketing it. "I had heard of Aegon Targaryen usurping the Queen's throne after King Viserys' death–my condolences–but I had only expected a raven to come from the Queen. You've traveled quite a ways just to ask for men."
Daenys nodded, "We thought it more earnest to see our allied houses personally. Ravens are slower than dragons, and do not leave room for negotiations."
"How many is the Queen expecting from me?" He asked, straight to the point. In every way, Cregan Stark proved to be different from court lords.
Picking at her nails again, Daenys winced when she pulled on the skin too harsh, drawing specs of blood. Under the table, they were hidden from his view. If Rhaenyra saw her now, Daenys was she she would frown and shake her head. But she wasn't, Daenys was alone with the lord of Winterfell. "How many do you have available?" She avoided.
He breathed heavily again, and she bit her cheek guiltily. How could she come into someones home and demand that they fight a war they will see no benefit from? Daenys was suddenly very glad that she was not heir. Even being simply the princess wasn't fit for her.
"I will take some time to think of our numbers, and what I can offer Her Grace." He stood from his seat, making his way around the table to her, holding out a gloved hand.
Daenys took it hesitantly, her uncovered hand a stark contrast to the pure black of his glove. She saw him glance at her hand, the red not yet rubbed away. After standing, she folded them carefully in front of herself, hoping he didn't notice too much. "Thank you, my lord. The crown appreciates your consideration."
He nodded, brow furrowed but not questioning her directly. Cregan guided her to her guest chambers, leaving her at the door. "If you need anything, I'm just down the hall." He gestured towards a door near the end.
Daenys settled into her bed after changing into a shift provided by a maid, fur coat drapped over a chair near the hearth. The bed was cozy, a small thing but covered in more furs, soft and warm.
Daenys fell asleep quickly, mind on the man sleeping a few rooms over.
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anyca786 · 5 months ago
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"IT IS GOOD TO BE HOME"
Daemon Targaryen x sister!Targaryen
WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), fluff, mutual hate for Otto Hightower.
PROLOGUE: Daenys Targaryen, the youngest sister of King Viserys I and Prince Daemon, was a tempestuous soul who yearned for the open sky and the thrill of adventure.
Daenys' life took a dramatic turn when she witnessed the harrowing childbirth of her niece, Rhaenyra. The pain and suffering endured by her sister-in-law, Aemma, deeply affected her. Daenys made a solemn vow never to marry, fearing the same fate for herself.
With Nyx, her black scaled dragon at her side, she soared into the heavens and disappeared towards the North.
Now, Daenys has returned to King's Landing. The once unruly princess had matured into a woman of striking beauty and strength. Her beauty, enhanced, captivated the hearts of many in the city. Common folks called her, "Realm's Beauty".
Daemon found himself drawn to her in a way he had never expected. Whether it was lust or a deeper affection, Daenys's return had ignited a spark within him that would forever change the course of their lives.
Only time will tell.
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As King Viserys Targaryen and his Hand, Otto Hightower arrived, they find the small council gathered amidst pall of dread.
"The prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity.." Otto Hightower complained.
"Prince Daemon Targaryen, Your Grace" Lord Commander Ryam Redwyne announced.
Viserys nodded, his expression unchanged when he saw Prince Daemon was already waiting inside.
Daemon rises from the (previously empty) chair kept for him at the small council. He was still wearing his armor and gold cloak from the night before. A red smear stains his new gold cloak.
"Daemon" Viserys greeted.
"Brother" he replied.
Daemon then looks at the Hand of the King. The air has gone out of the room. Daemon has that effect.
"Do not let me interrupt, my Lord Hand. You were saying something about my impunity?" he said.
The Hand looks to his king, waiting for, hoping for him to start the conversation. But the king does not. So Otto moves to take the Hand’s seat at the small council table.
"You are to explain your doings with the City watch," Otto Hightower said.
"What about them?" Daemon smirked.
"Princess Daenys has arrived." a guard announced to the council.
A murmur rippled through the council. Her sudden return was a surprise to all.
The doors open and as Daenys entered the hall, all conversation ceased. The council members were stunned.
The girl who had left as a child had returned as a woman of breathtaking beauty. Princess Daenys, youngest sibling of King Viserys and Prince Daemon has arrived.
Her long, blonde Targaryen hair cascaded down her back, her pale purple eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. She wore a flowing red and black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her goddess-like figure.
Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, couldn't help but admire her. A smirk crept onto his face as he took in her appearance. Daemon, too, was captivated by his sister's transformation. His eyes followed her every movement as she approached the table.
"Daenys," Viserys greeted her warmly, his voice filled with warmth. "It is good to see you, little sister"
"Brother," she replied, a smile playing on her lips. "It is good to be home."
As she took her seat beside her brother, Prince Daemon, the council members couldn't help but whisper amongst themselves.
Otto Hightower couldn't resist a sly remark. "We weren't expecting you back so soon, Princess," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.
Daenys raised an eyebrow, her smile turning slightly sardonic. "Oh, is that so? Perhaps I should have sent a raven ahead to announce my arrival. Or maybe I should have consulted with the Hand of the King before deciding when to return home."
Daemon chuckled at his sister's retort. He and Daenys had always shared a mutual dislike for Otto Hightower, believing his ambition and cunning to be a dangerous influence on Viserys.
Daenys turned to Daemon, her eyes softening. "Brother," she said, her voice filled with amusement.
Daemon grinned. "Baby sister," he replied, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "You've grown."
Daenys blushed slightly, she always had a liking for her more rebellious brother. "I suppose I have." She glanced at Otto, who was watching them with a disapproving expression.
"The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They're an extension of the crown." Otto comtinues.
"The Watch was enforcing the crown's laws. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Strong?" Daemon turned to Lord Lyonell Strong.
"My Prince, I don't think-"
Otto interrupts him, "Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws."
Daenys, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but intervene, "Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending upon King's Landing for my brother's tourney. Do you want them mugged, raped, murdered? You mightn' know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people."
Viserys nodded. "I agree," he said, turning to Daemon. "I just hope you don't have to maim half of my city to achieve this."
Daemon grinned. "Time will tell," he replied, his eyes lingering on Daenys. He felt a warm sensation as his sister took his side without hesitation.
Lord Corlys Velaryon spoke up in support of Daemon "We installed Prince Daemon as commander to promote law and order. The criminal element should fear the City Watch."
"Thank you for your support, Lord Corlys" Daemon replied.
Otto, growing increasingly frustrated said, "If only the Prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does his work, Your Grace. You've not been seen in the Vale or at Runestone for quite some time."
Daenys rolled her eyes. "Mind yourself, Lord Hightower" Her voice stern. "You have nothing better to do than gossip about my brother's personal life?
"I think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence" Daemon replied to Otto.
"Lady Rhea is your wife; a good and honorable lady of the Vale" Otto persisted.
Daemon couldn't resist a final jab, "In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women," he quipped, "I can assure you, the sheep are prettier."
"Dear me" Daenys rolled her eyes, but Otto's face flushed red with anger.
"You made a vow before the Seven to honor your wife in marriage." Otto slightly raises his voice.
Daemon decides to provoke Otto, "Well, I'd gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you're in want of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently."
Otto stands up in anger.
"Did she not?" Daenys pressed, faking inocence finding her own amusement in this.
"Otto" King Viserys tried to calm him.
"Perhaps you aren't ready to move on just yet" Daemon continued.
"You know how my brother makes sport of provoking you. Must you indulge him?" Viserys said.
Otto sits back down, "My apologies, Your Grace"
"This council has, at great expense pettered the City Watch to your exacting standards. Enforce my laws, but understand: Any further performances like last night's will be answered" Viserys said
"Understood, Your Grace." Daemon smirked.
He turned to Daenys, who was watching him. "Meet me at the dragonpit," he whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss on her cheek.
As Daemon left, Daenys couldn't help but smile.
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Thinking about turning this into a mini series, if this gets atleast a 100 likes.
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gracexthoughts · 7 months ago
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the strong
jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!oc
warnings; slight canon divergence, cussing, canon typical incest, fighting, implied smut at the end (i cannot actually write smut to save my life sorry), s1ep8 spoilers ig summary; after vaemond's petition, aegon’s jesting, and aemond’s taunts, jacaerys is furious and seeks solace and advice from his step-sister and betrothed. inspired by tyrion telling jon to wear his bastardy “like armor so it can never be used to hurt'' him in the first ep of GOT (I’ve been rewatching to feed the brainrot) a/n; daenera is daemon’s eldest daughter from his first marriage, in my head daemon didn’t kill rhea and she died in childbirth just before rhaenyra’s wedding so daeny is about half a year older than jace but you can use your imagination as it doesn’t really matter.
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“I dare you to say that again!” Jacaerys growls from the dancefloor. Daenera turns in her seat to see Jacaerys with his fists clenched, his eyes dark and glaring daggers at his uncle. The feast had been amicable considering the events of the day, but while the adults’ words of peace ring honest between them, animosity between the young princes, princess and ladies nears its boiling point. Prince Aegon has spent most of the evening cooing foul and crude jests to Jacaerys and Daenera about their soon approaching wedding. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Prince Aemond has added his own taunt to the pile: a thinly veiled comment on the Velaryon brothers' true parentage. 
“Why? Twas only a compliment,” Aemond defends, lowering his goblet to face Jacaerys, stepping towards him as he does. “Do you not think yourself Strong?” Jacaerys answers by bringing his fist up to Aemond’s jaw, the sound resonating through the hall. Lucerys leaps up from his seat, Vaemond’s slanders still heavy in his ears, but Aegon intercepts him, slamming him down on the table and sending food and silverware clattering from the impact. Daenera, ever protective of her siblings, leaps from her seat and wraps her arms around the eldest prince’s neck, putting all her weight against him to remove his hands from Lucerys. He grapples with her for a moment before she is ripped off by a Kingsguard. Knights separate Aegon from Luceryrs, Jacaerys from Aemond, and Rhaena pushes Baela back from leaping into the fray as well.
The Queen pulls her second son back, muttering angrily to him but he pulls away from her as Rhaenyra moves towards her sons and Daemon to his daughters. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family. Though it seems my nephews aren’t so proud of theirs!” Aemond continues to taunt, leveling a snide one-eyed glare at Jace. Jacaerys wriggles out of the guard’s grip and steps menacingly towards Aemond. 
“Wait, wait,” Daemon says, holding a finger up and stopping Jacaerys in his tracks, forcing him back to stand next to Daenera. 
“Go to your quarters, all of you. Go now!” Rhaenyra commands sternly, her eyes holding a warning as she stares down her eldest son and motions for the rest of her children, by blood and by marriage, to leave. 
“Come on,” Rhaena says softly, pulling her sisters along with her and out of the hall by their hands. Daenera relents with a sigh but not before squeezing Jacaerys’ and flashing him a sympathetic smile. 
“Are you alright, Daeny?” Baela asks as they make their way to their rooms.
“Fine, worried about the boys,” she mutters in reply.
“I’m sure Jace and Luke are alright, sister,” Rhaena says softly, wrapping her hand around Daeny and Baela’s arms. Daenera nods agreeing but still can’t shake the worry in her chest.
Near an hour later, a knock sounds on the door to Daenera’s chambers, pulling her from the depths of the book in her hands. “Come in!” she calls expecting one of her maids and, not bothering to stand from her comfortable position on the settee in front of the fire, turns to see who enters. “Jace,” the lady says softly as her betrothed steps into her chambers, his eyes still dark with rage. 
The pair have been betrothed for nearly ten years, the announcement made soon after their parents married, and as they grew up together they have grown a deep love for each other: a bond of unconditional trust and adoration between the future King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jacaerys comes to crouch in front of her, placing his hands on her knees and caressing the joint over the silk of her night gown. His tunic is gone, leaving him in just his white undershirt and trousers, Daenera’s eyes trail to the bit of collarbone she can from her vantage point. 
“Are you alright? Did Aegon hurt you?” the prince asks, searching her deep purple eyes that snap back to his face at his words. 
“I’m fine, Jace. If I can match you in a spar, I can handle myself against that drunken lecher,” she chuckles slightly, setting her book aside and reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his brow. “Are you alright?” She asks, reaching for his hand with its already darkening skin. She’d let her hair down to hang around her shoulders and even clouded by anger as his mind is, Jacaerys notices her etherealness. She has always been a sharp and unsettling kind of beauty, her eyes seeming to have the ability to gaze upon your soul, but Jacaerys relishes her softer side. The side she so rarely shows others.
“Wish I’d gotten more blows in,” he grumbles, standing and pacing in front of the hearth, his shoulders tight and face scrunched in anger. 
“Maybe you’ll have a chance before we return to Dragonstone,” she offers with a smirk. “The cunts deserve it, the pair of them.” 
“Will I never be free of this? Of these slanders that are whispered in my wake? Will they sneer at me when I sit on the throne? Ignore my rulings and snicker-” 
“Jace, breathe,” Daenera pleads, concerned with the rising panic she sees in his eyes. 
“I cannot, Daeny!” the prince exclaims, “How am I meant to be a King, a leader, when I am not respected?” 
“Darling, we are barely eight and ten, you are second in line at present. Respect will come with time. Once your mother is Queen the people will become familiar with you, with your grace, your kindness, your justness,” she says, placatingly, reaching out for his hand, forcing him to stop his pacing and look at her. “They will forget the slanders the Hightowers murmur because you will be a good and just King. Besides, it's your mother’s blood that makes you royal, not your father’s.” 
“And yet there will always be those who call me a Strong. The King cannot take every single one of their tongues,” he says with a heavy sigh, running a ringed hand through his hair in distress. Daenera considers this for a moment, knowing it is true enough, and Jacaerys sighs, turning to face the hearth, planting his hands on the stone and gazing down into the flames. 
“So make it a compliment,” the lady says after a long moment, leaning back on her arm on the settee, her deep amethyst eyes watching the prince. 
“Make the doubt of my paternity a compliment?” Jacaerys scoffs, turning to her. “How in the Seven Hells-” 
“If they shall call you ‘Strong’ no matter what, the more you rage against it the more power the slight has. The only way to take away its power is to show it cannot be used to hurt or diminish you. Take it as your moniker and wear it like armor so all know tis not a weapon they can wield against you.” 
“Jacaerys the Strong?” he asks slowly, the wheels turning behind his eyes, unable to deny the intelligence of her council. He sits down slowly next to Daenera, his eyes fixed on a point on the rug.
“King Jacaerys the Strong, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” she purrs, leaning towards the prince, a smirk on her lips. She watches as a firelight dances in his eyes, his pupils dilating at her proximity. 
“Hm, not bad,” he smiles, and leans down, connecting his brow with Daeny’s, running a finger calloused from years of practice with a blade across her jaw. 
“What is it?” Daenera asks softly after a moment, pulling away to look into Jace’s eyes, sensing he is still feeling troubled. 
“Nothing,” he shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. 
“Jacaerys,” she chides, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. 
“Just… fucking Aegon… I fear he is right in his jests. I have no idea how to please you as you deserve,” Jacaerys confesses shyly, pulling his face from Daeny’s hands as heat creeps into his face. 
Daeny cannot help the laugh that escapes her lips, of all the troublesome worries that the day has brought, her sweet betrothed worries of her pleasure. Sex is not something the pair have discussed in length yet, even though their wedding is a little more than a moon away. The pair tend to flit around such topics, even when they steal secret kisses in dark corners of Dragonstone and come away with scarlet cheeks and racing hearts. 
“And now even you laugh at me!” He exclaims exasperatedly and stands to move away but Daenera quickly stands as well, stepping in front of him and stopping him from leaving. She pushes him back to his seat and kneels before him, her hands on his shoulders. 
“No, my love, I’m not laughing at you, I’m sorry. Tis just that you should not concern yourself with such worries,” she says gently, running her hand from his broad shoulder to the toned expanse of his chest, feeling his heart beating under his skin. 
“But I-” 
“I have no more knowledge on how to please a man than you do a woman, Jace,” she continues, her voice placating and soft. “We shall learn together and be stronger and better for it.” Jacaerys meets her amethyst eyes, finding comfort in the truth and lack of judgment he finds in them. “Besides, I cannot believe that Aegon knows any more than you do. He has never had any care for anything besides his own pleasures and you heard poor Helaena’s toast. He targets you because he knows you are more generous and loving than he could ever hope to be.”  Jacaerys chuckles at this, knowing she speaks true of his uncle and melts into her touch at last. 
“You truly do not care?” He asks, toying with the ends of her silver hair that brushes against his knee. 
“Shall I prove it to you, my prince?” she purrs, a teasing mischief in her eyes as she runs a hand up his chest to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips in a kiss. He sighs into her embrace, his hands finding purchase on her waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue darting between her lips. Realizing she is still kneeling on the floor in front of the settee, he grips her hips tightly and pulls her to straddle him, pulling a gasp from her lips which eggs the prince on. Jacaerys’ hands brush through Daeny’s hair, pushing it away from her face, and trail down her back to explore her figure; Daenera weaves one hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots and eliciting a groan she feels through her other hand which rests on his chest. 
Without warning, Jace stands and without breaking their kiss carries Daeny with him as he makes his way to the bed, resting her gently on the linen sheets and covering her smaller body with his. All his insecurities and rage momentarily forgotten as he loses himself in her, the only girl he has ever had eyes for, and proves to her, and to himself, just how strong a lover he can be.
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starogeorgina · 8 months ago
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𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧
Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen reader, minor Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen reader
Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, self harm
1.03
“Shh, shh,” you try to gently rock Daenys to sleep. “Please, calm down, sweet girl.”
Your daughter was brought to you in the early hours since she woke up fussy and wouldn’t latch onto the wet nurse. Luckily, she fed from your breast without issue, but your silver-haired baby was still unhappy and crying. From the flush in Daeny's cheeks and the redness in her gums, you suspect she has started teething.
“Princess,” one of the handmaids approaches you while nervously pulling on the sleeve of her dress. You often wonder how the servants who followed Rhaenyra to Dragonstone felt watching the way their beloved princess was treated. “The maester wishes to speak with you as a matter of urgency. There is a wet nurse in the room down the hall; would you like me to take Daenys to her while you dress?”
Reluctantly, you nod and hand your daughter over to the younger woman. As soon as you’re left alone, you bring the faded nightgown over your head and redress yourself, choosing to put on the light grey gown you were wearing the night you were taken. It was made to accommodate the swell of your stomach, and now the extra fabric hung loose down the front. You had others to choose from, but it was one of the only items you had that was truly yours.
In every passing moon, the maester would examine you for any sign of pregnancy, which was humiliating, so you’d at least attempt to try and maintain a shred of dignity. You comb your hair with your fingers and try to straighten out the creases on your dress. Just as you finish adjusting yourself, the door to the room opens, and the maester, followed by a handmaiden, enters.
You were cursed by the ghosts of your father's blindness and your mother's lies. Your mother claimed that before King Viserys died, he declared he wanted Aegon on the throne, and all the men who deemed a woman unfit to rule believed her. Your father turned a blind eye to your family's scheming for years, and now the future of the realm would be full of war, murder, and misery.
As you dig your nails into the palm of your hand to stop yourself from screaming, blaming your parents for this situation was an easy option. If the throne wasn’t usurped, then envoys would never have been sent; Lucerys would still be alive, as would Jaehaerys, and you and your daughter would be safe in Aemond’s arms.
And if your father had been stronger-willed, none of it would have happened.
Being so caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Prince Daemon entering the room. It’s not until you feel his presence beside you that you finally address him, “What is it?”
“A raven arrived from the red keep; one of my little spies has informed Criston Cole and your cunt of a husband that we have taken you north.”
No, no, no.
“They are currently gathering the green forces and will leave in a couple of days. Which means the false king won’t have that hoary old bitch, Vhagar, to hide behind. With only Sunfyre on his side, we can easily take the city back with the mere threat of Caraxes, Syrax, Vermax, Moondancer, and Tyraxes.”
“Need I remind you, uncle, which side my dragon is on?”
Gripping your jaw tightly, Daemon shoved you against the wall. “Need I remind you, niece, that you’re nothing more than a prisoner? I’ve spared your daughter's life, something the fucking kinslayer didn’t do for Luccerys.”
You slap his hand away and say, “You’ve got what you wanted; you're getting another child. Do not fucking touch me again.”
Daemon places both hands firmly on the wall beside your head, caging you in. His eyes flickered over you; he didn’t quite believe what you just said. “The maester confirmed this?”
“I haven’t bled in two moons; the maester is convinced my stomach will swell again soon.” Sarcastically, you add, “Congratulations; I hope you're as excited as I am.”
After speaking with the maester himself, Daemon kept his original promise and had you move to a larger, more comfortable bedchamber with crimson colors and dragon decor, and soon a crib would be brought in and your daughter would join you. All you cared about was keeping Daenys close.
You feel the lavish oils soothing the ache in your shoulders when one of the handmaidens rubs them onto your skin. This was the first time in many moons you had bathed properly, and the luxury of having a clean body, hair, and clothing wasn’t something you’d take for granted again.
“My Prince,” the handmaiden nods her head at him, then attempts to cover you up with a towel, causing your uncle to chuckle.
“It’s considered bad manners to interrupt a lady while she’s bathing.”
“It’s nothing new," he says as he stands at the bottom of the tub, showing no attempt to advertise his gaze from your bare breasts. “Perhaps I wanted to join you in bathing.”
“I’d rather you drowned me.“
Daemon smirks, “Leave us.”
The handmaiden gives you an apologetic look, then leaves. No matter how many times Daemon spilled his seed inside you, the reality of carrying his child never felt real until now. You’d already suffered on the birthing bed out of duty; now you’d be doing it again to keep Daenys safe. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you taste the salty tears on your lips. “What happens if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”
“What do you mean?”
“I had two other daughters once; both of them died.”
Daemon comes to the side of the tub and crouches down so he’s eye level with you. “I wasn’t aware.”
Red blotches appear on your chest and neck as you struggle to stop your voice from cracking. “The first girl's name was Anya; she came early after three days of labor.”
Your mother had remained by your side throughout your labor, and the look of horror on her face when she saw the ‘thing’ you delivered would be forever etched in your mind. Anya’s skin was covered in small scars that looked similar to dragon scales. But no matter how monstrous she may have appeared to others, you thought she was beautiful. Against the maesters advice, Aemond visited you before the silent sisters had come to take the baby, and it was the first time since the night he lost his eyes that you’d seen him cry.
“I gave birth to Rhaella the following year; she was born at the end of the fall but was taken by the winter fever.“
The expression on Daemon’s face was hard to read; he himself knew of the pain you and Aemond have suffered from losing a baby. And you could only begin to imagine the grief and suffering the blacks felt after Lucery's death. “And news of this never reached Dragonstone?”
Your eyes sting from crying. “Our family has always been divided; who would have told you?”
“My brother.”
“Ha,” you scoff. “You saw what my father was like in the end. He had consumed so much milk from the poppy that he became oblivious to everything around him; the only person he ever wished to speak with was Rhaenyra.”
Frowning, he skims his finger over the water.
“I feared I would never again bear a living child, but the gods blessed me with Daenys. But I shall ask again, uncle, What will happen if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”
“You do not want to find out, niece.”
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hopesworlld · 2 months ago
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౨ৎ the first temptation ( one )
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౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — one kiss is all it takes to set alight a fire that could scorch even the strongest of dragon riders.
౨ৎ stream a little death by the neighbourhood !
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — kissing, targcest, dry humping, grinding, corruption kink?
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
prince jacaerys had always prided himself for many things. his skills with a sword, his loyalty to his mother, his determination. and yet there was one thing that always seemed to shatter through every vow he had ever made.
princess daenys, his only sister, and sweetest light of the targaryen dynasty. she was sunshine souled, completely and utterly targaryen in every way, with her long silvery curls that fell past her waist, her lilac eyes, and her pale moonwashed skin. she was proclaimed by all as the realms' gift. a present from the god’s who treated the small folk with a light and love that left everyone infatuated beneath her kind touch and silver words.
but she penetrated jace’s every thought, he found himself longing for the feel of her lips, of her hands upon his body, running along the lines of his chest, threading along the base of his neck and tugging at his dark curls.
they had shared many secret kisses, the first beneath a falling sun, the sky stained orange and gold on daenys’ name day. she had just turned four and ten, while jace was just passed six and ten, dae had captured him upon the bay at the front of the castle. pretty pink lips stained crimson and eyes blurry, she had pulled him in and placed a delicate kiss to his lips before giggling like a child.
“i wanted you to be my first,” the girl confessed with a giddy smile, sinking into his arms, allowing the young prince to sweep her from her feet and deposit her to her chambers.
“you should not drink so much, sweet sister,” jace scolded lightly, tucking the girl beneath her sheets but daenys only smiled teasingly, running her tongue along her bottom lip.
“i would drink gallons of wine if it meant i could kiss you again,” she sang and jace could only smile fondly, pressing a kiss for a forehead before leaving the room and allowing his sister to sleep off the wine.
their second kiss had been much sweeter, unsullied by the taste of grapes, instead the two had been training, jace’s arm slung around daeny’s throat, holding her tightly until she gasped for air and tapped his arm three times.
“you cannot best me,” jacaerys boosted proudly, but his eyes were drawn to his sister's parted lips, heavy breaths falling from them as she clutched at her chest. fingers running across the creamy skin of her breasts as she tried to suck the air back into her lungs.
“fine,” dae sighed in disappointment, “i will not break our deal, i promised you something if you were to best me, brother. what is it you desire?” the words were innocent, a simple play on the deal that they had made, if jace were to win daenys would have to do whatever he requested. she thought he would have her steal one of daemon’s daggers, or run naked along the beach, but instead jace drew her in, so close that she could see the flickers of gold in his deep brown eyes.
“you,” jace said slowly, eyes falling back to the girl's lips, “i desire a kiss from you princess, will you grant that?” he asked, watching as dae sucked in a deep breath before reaching up, cupping jace’s cheek and leaning in, pressing her pretty lips to his.
it was hardly a kiss, a delicate brush of skin on skin before she was pulling back. but jace slung his arms around her hips, drawing her in and kissing her again. kissing her like the sky was falling and she was his solace. daenys gasped against him, fingers slipping to his shoulders, clinging to him as she tried to match his pace.
“brother,” she whispered sheepishly, “is this really what you desire?” she asked him, lips still on his.
“it is all i desire,” jace answered. they kissed until their lips were dry and raw, and the air in their lungs could hardly stand to be deprived much longer.
their last was a tryst of passion, a heated argument, cruel words had been hissed, things thrown and then suddenly they were kissing. daenys’ body pressed against the wall of jacaerys’ chamber, hands tugging harshly at his silky curls, while jace held a bruising grip on the princesses hips.
“you are such a brat sometimes,” jace groaned, slipping his tongue along the seam of daenys’ lips, she parted her lips, shuddering slightly in his hold. he kissed like a man starved, desperate for the taste of her lips, of her tongue.
“you are a fool,” daenys replied, pressing her flush against him.
“a fool?” jace asked, pulling back and trailing kisses down the side of dae’s neck, suckling lightly on her pulse point and making her wine, “a fool for letting you give into your selfish desires, princess,” he said, slowly slipping one of his hands from her hips and instead trailing them over her clothes breasts, daenys gasped, bucking her hips against jace.
“you want this as much as i,” she argued, dragging jace back to her lips, kissing him hotly.
“what i want from you, sweet sister, i cannot have,” jace said, drawing back and looking at her with large blown pupils, “i will not disgrace you in the name of desire,”
“you wish too…” daenys trailed off. the life of a princess was a shielded one, but even now, with her mother sitting upon the iron throne, daenys knew that her greatest asset was her maidenhood. without it she would be disgraced, unwanted by any man who saw himself better, even if he had lost his own long ago. but she longed for jace, longed for him in ways she couldn’t even find the words to describe. a sort of primal urge within her body that called for him.
“dae,” jace whispered, suddenly softer, cupping the girl's cheeks and bringing her gaze to his.
“kiss me,” daenys pleaded, “kiss me until i am sick of it,” she pulled jace back in and he fell against her willingly, “i cannot bare the thought of you not,”
“spoiled girl,” jace said, running his thumb along her swollen lips, “do you even know what it is you ask of me? what you make me feel?” he questioned, pinching her bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.
“i think i do, for you make me feel things, things i have never felt before,” dae confessed, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. “i wish for you to touch me, to stop the ache between my legs that only blooms when your lips are on mine,” her words drew a sharp groan from jace’s lips, head falling back and revealing his slender throat.
“fuck,” he hissed, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” daenys had never head such profanities fall from his mouth, but then he was wrenching her from the wall and tugging her to his bed, pushing the princess down before descending atop of her. he slipped between her thighs with a poise of elegance, pressing his leg upon daenys’ aching core and pressing until the princess gasped. dressed only in her nightgown she could feel the toned muscles of her brother's thigh pressed to her weeping cunt.
“jace!” the girl cried out, head falling back as jace began to rut against her, it was sloppy, weak thrusts as he ground his cock against the girl's pelvis. aching for relief but trapped beneath a layer of fabric.
“i’ll give you what you wish for, sweet girl,” jace said, tugging down her nightgown and revealing the supple skin of her breasts to the cold air. daenyrs’ whined when the prince grasped her tits in his large hands and squeezed, rolling her nipples between his fingers as her hips rose frantically to meet the stimulation of his leg against her. “it is not deflowering you if i do not enter you,” he reasoned, though he seemed to be telling himself that as he brought his lips back to hers.
the kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue, spit staining their chins as they gasped and moaned, lost in the feeling of the other's body against theirs, chasing the relief that was coming.
“jace… i feel,” daenys let out a loud moan as jace began to press himself harder upon the girl, his cock throbbing as he felt himself drawing in.
“it’s okay, sweet girl, let go for me,” jace prompted, sweat slicked forehead pressing atop her own as dae let out a strangled moan, coming for the first time all over the princess clothed thigh. jace was not far behind her, rutting against her hip a few more times before he himself spilled in his trousers with a heavy gasp.
“that was…” daenys struggled to say was jace rolled and lay beside her. “can we do it again sometime?” she asked sweetly and jacaerys laughed loudly, drawing her in for another kiss.
“there are many things we can do, sweet sister,” he promised, already feeling his cock swelling in his breaches.
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౨ৎ hope talks — this was so boring tbh, dw the next chapters will get far more exciting i just wanted to show how it all began 🤭
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the20thangel · 7 months ago
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The Realm's Jewel
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Another Request! Summary: (like an Au where there was no war) The reader is Rhaenyra’s only daughter and Damon’s daughter. She comes to King's Landing but with Benji, whom she married. BUT Aemond loved the reader and thought that when they married, her life with Benji would be horrible. When they show up, she’s very happy and has two little boys that look exactly like Benji. And maybe a little fight scene?
Word Count: 2510
The whole Red Keep was buzzing with excitement; Princess Daenys was returning to Kingslanding after five years away. King Viserys was overjoyed he missed his sweet granddaughter. She was indeed a beauty, with beautiful, long platinum hair and large doe-like eyes that were a gorgeous purple color. She was the eldest daughter of Princess Regent Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon. Twin sister of Prince Jacaerys, she was the realm’s jewel. Everyone in the realm adored the lovely princess, so they celebrated her return. She spent five years away due to her marriage to the Lord of Raventree Hall. When the two were babes, Lord Benjicot and Princess Daenys were betrothed secretly by Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Samwell. Princess Rhaenyra noted that House Blackwood was not a House Paramount but had a great army and fierce warriors. It was a considerable advantage for her own house, and House Blackwood was honored with a princess. 
Daenys and Benjicot met a few times growing up. Unbeknownst to the rest of the court, the betrothed and Prince Jacaerys bonded by playing pranks on numerous Lords and Ladies who visited Kingslanding. Benjicot and Jace created a bond of brothers and, in turn, would sometimes try to play pranks on the princess. Unfortunately for Jace, all Daenys needed to do was bat her doe-eyes and push a pout to have Benji forget everything and follow her around like a love-sick puppy. Jace would tease Benji for it, but Benjicot couldn't care less. Benjicot and Daeny were due to marry each other on their 18th name day, but when Daenys turned six and ten, something changed. 
Viserys declared his wish to see Daenys and Aemond married. Rhaenyra raged at her father, stating that Daenys was her daughter and her daughter's marriage would not be decided by someone else. Viserys grew angry, declaring that he was the King and Aemond was a Targaryen prince; there was no better match than him. As Aemond walked smugly to the training yard, he taunted Jacaerys and Lucerys before shouting to Daenys that they would soon wed and asking her to reign in her brothers. Daenys blood ran cold hearing the news, and she ran to her mother sobbing. She did not want to marry Aemond; her heart belonged to Benji, and she would rather die than be married to someone else. Rhaenyra knew that the only way Daenys could marry her chosen husband would be how she married Daemon, going off and marrying, not allowing her marriage to be broken. Quietly in the night, Rhaneyra prepared Princess Daenys, writing a letter to Lord Samwell, explaining the situation and hopefully allowing her daughter to marry his son sooner than planned. 
In the cover of the night, Daenys flew out on her dragon Sliverwing to Raventree Hall. When the Red Keep noticed the princes' absence and scouts were sent to find the princess, a raven arrived from the Riverlands—stating the Princess's marriage to the Heir of House Blackwood, with the Septon’s stamp of officiality and a Septa’s account of the couple consummating the marriage. Viserys internally fumed, but he knew he could do nothing, only glaring at Rhaenyra, knowing she was the one who helped Daenys leave the Red Keep. 
Aemond was a whole different story. The Prince raged for three days, beating up anyone in his way, upset that the Heir to Raventree Hall stole his princess. He all but commanded his father to let him travel to Raventree Hall and bring back the traitor's head. This caused Viserys rage, stating that he would not risk a war with the Riverlands by killing an heir. Viserys noted that not only would the whole realm rage, but the seven, Aemond’s gods,  would curse him for killing his niece’s husband. Aemond huffed, leaving, and he would wait; he knew Daenys would soon see she made the wrong decision and come back begging for an annul, and they would marry the way the seven wanted them to be. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Five years, and finally, the princess was back for the first-year celebration of her mother’s time as a Princess Regent. The whole court was waiting eagerly in the sides and gallery to catch how married life faired for the princess. Everyone quieted down when two Kingsguards slammed their swords to the ground, calling for attention, as a herald shouted—presenting Lord Benjicot Blackwood, of House Blackwood, Lord of Raventree Hall, and his lady wife Crown Princess Daenys Targaryen, with their two sons, their heir Davos Blackwood and his brother Aenar Blackwood. The whole court gasped when they saw the two four-name day-old sons walking between their parents. Davos wore mainly a red doublet with little ravens on his collar, looking like an exact copy of his father saved for the beautiful purple Valyrian eyes. While Aenar wore a black doublet with little red dragons on his collar, one eye was grey and the other purple, showing off the blood of the First Men and Valyrian running through his veins. They grew more in shock, seeing how Princess Daenys matured into a fine jewel. Her hair was raised in braids and then into a bun, letting a few hair strains frame her face. She walked side by side with her family, caressing a medium-sized bump, signaling that she was expecting another child with her husband, who looked smug, walking into the throne room. 
All four stopped infront of the iron throne, bowing to the Princess Regent, who walked down to hug her daughter and greet her grandchildren. 
The two boys grinned at their grandmother, bowing before they said, “Good morrow, your grace. It's nice to meet you.” 
This caused the whole court to swoon, well, all but the Targaryen/Hightower side of the family, especially Aemond, who fumed those sons and future children should have been his children, not some smug lord. He could not believe his Daenys took this long to return. Was she being held captive, and was her regal persona just that, a persona? He knew he needed to help her escape, and after she and he were married, he promised to treat those boys as if they were his, for they had to be more of Daenys in them than of Benjicot. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the Blackwood family settled into their suite, Daenys could not help but reminisce about her time in the Red Keep. There were many things she missed at her old home. 
“Wow! Muna, this your old room?! It's bigger than mine and Aenie’s rooms together!” asked Davos as he ran around in circles, causing Benjicot to laugh and pick up his son. 
“Yes, your mother was very spoiled here; she sometimes would act like it too,” taunted Benji as he smirked at his wife, who turned and playfully glared at her husband. 
“You dare lie to our sons, dear husband? Hmm, I will not stand for such lies.” She walks towards her eldest son, kissing him on the crown as she asks the servants to bathe both boys in preparation for the upcoming feast. 
“I only jest, love. You were not that spoiled,” grinned Benji, laughing as Daenys mock gasped, lightly hitting her husband.
“We shall see if I let you sleep in the bed with me at night, then we’ll see who truly is spoiled,” Daenys lightly threatened Benji, the princess grinning as he brought her to his arms and kissed her before the doors opened to bring in the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys, who then pretended to gag. 
“Ugh, we did not need to see that!” jested Lucerys, jumping on Benjicot’s back, causing the lord to laugh, letting go of his wife as he pretended to wrestle with Luke. Jace shook his head at the two men and walked to his twin, kissing her on the cheek. 
“How was your trip here, dear sister,” asked Jace. 
“Tiresome, with two restless boys and a babe who would not cease kicking every time they felt their father’s hand on my stomach,” stated Daenys, smiling as her husband and younger brother messed around. 
“Then you have two overgrown children here, so what are we to do?” joked Jace, who then shouted, feeling Ben grab him and bring him into the fight. 
“I thought you both came here to warn Daenys not to mess around like children?” questioned Baela walking in with her sister Rhaena, both being betrothed to the Targaryen brothers. 
The men separated breathing heavily as Daenys looked confused, “Warn me? About what?” asked Daenys. 
Luke groaned, “about uncle Aemond, he is still in his ass, thinking that you were stolen from him and that Ben here is a terrible husband to you.” 
Daenys scoffed, “Is he truly into his delusions to think I ever loved him? Anybody with eyes could see how Ben and I acted around each other. There was a reason why House Blackwood was constantly invited to the Red Keep.” 
Jace snorted as the two boys ran into the room, into their uncles’ arms. “Well, not him, so don’t be surprised if he tries to pick a fight with you, Ben.” 
Little Davos smirked uncanny to his father's smirk, “Kepa will just then break his nose, just like he did with the loser Braken when he tried to kiss Muna !” exclaimed Davos, while Aenar cheered. 
The two Targaryen Princes and their future wives gaped, staring at the Lord of Raven Tree Hall, who only grinned. 
“That will be a story to tell when the children are sleeping,” explained Daenys. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The feast was going well, and everyone was enjoying the food and entertainment brought by Princess Rhaenyra. Well, all but one. Aemond kept glaring at Benjicot any chance he had. His glare only worsened when someone complimented the couple or when Benjicot showed affection to his wife. Aemond could have sworn that he once saw the lord smirk at him as he caressed the Princess’s growing belly. Aegon noticed before snorting into his wine that a storm was brewing, and he was much too sober for it yet. 
As the toasts began, everyone was toasting Princess Rhaenyra’s first year of reign or the welcome back of Princess Daenys. Finally, everyone grew tense when it came to Aemond as the Prince rose, staring straight at Daenys, who scowled, pressing herself to her husband. 
“A toast to Princess Daenys; welcome back, my princess. I have missed your pretty eyes all these years, but you are back where you belong. It is truly a shame your sons look so much like their sire. Nevertheless, they will be loved…” started Aemond, smirking at Benjicot, who was becoming upset with each word coming out of his mouth. 
Davos and Aenar were confused. Why was this man saying that it was a shame they looked like their Kepa? Muna always stated that she loved how they looked like him when they asked the question. Alicent was trying to shut Aemond up, telling him to be quiet and sit down, but Aemond only pushed her away. 
“You both should have pure Valyrian blood, but your father stole your mother from me and, in turn, tainted your blood with that of those barbarians blood of the First Men.” as soon as the words left Aemond’s mouth. 
Benjicot angrily rose from the table, which caused Aemond to start walking around, ready to fight Lord Blackwood. The whole table exploded with chaos, and Rhaenyra, Viserys, and Alicent called for order and peace. Jace and Luke each took one of the boys far from the conflict with Baela and Rhaena. Daemon reached his daughter, leading her away for her husband, as Daenys yelled for Benjicot to return. Heleana covered her ears as she pressed her eyes closed, not wanting to see, with lastly Aegon laughing drunkenly at his brother’s stupidity. Lord Blackwood was not called Bloody Ben for nothing. 
As Aemond ran to Benjicot, he took out his sword, swinging it towards the head. Benjicot, who had seen actual conflict and not just training, quickly ducked as he punched Aemond’s face. This caused Aemond's eyebrow to bleed, and he stumbled back. Angered, he threw himself on Benjicot, who in turn grabbed him as they fell to the ground, punching and kicking each other. 
Alicent began screeching as Rhaenyra called for the kingsguard to separate the two. As the guards ran in, Benji was able to get on top of Aemond, and he wildly punched the Prince’s face repeatedly, Ben’s knuckles becoming a bloody mess; he would have continued if he had not heard Daenys distraught yell. 
“Ben, that’s enough; you’ll kill him!,” shouted Daenys as she broke free from her father, running to her husband. 
As Benjicot smiled widely, he raised away from Prince Aemond and threw one last kick. Daenys reached her husband, grabbing his face into her hands. 
“Come back, Ben. You did enough; I’m here,” she whispered as she kissed Benji, who finally exhaled and pressed a small kiss in return. 
“Guards, seize Lord Blackwood, have him whipped for striking Prince Aemond!” screeched Alicent as she tried ordering, growing angry when no one moved. 
Viserys, although weak from the chaos, walked with the help of Heleana. “That’s enough, Alicent; if anything, Aemond should be punished for insulting Lord Benjicot and Princess Daenys and their children. He caused this violence!” 
Alicent gasped, “He is your son Viserys!” 
“That does not excuse him from insulting guests or trying to kill them; get Prince Ameond a maester for his injuries and the rest back to our rooms. No, Alicent enough! Guards take the queen consort back to her rooms, with a tea to calm her.” ordered Viserys as both his daughters led him away. 
Daenys sighed in relief and quietly apologized. She asked her brothers to take her sons to the nursery and led her husband back to her rooms. Once in her chambers, Daenys cleaned up her husband's wounds, mainly his knuckles. 
“Was that all necessarily Ben?” asked Daenys as she cleaned him up. 
Benjicot sighed, feeling only slightly ashamed. He had not meant to cause stress to his wife. “Yes, he insulted our sons, and I grew tired of him thinking you are his when you are mine, my princess, my love, my wife,” said Ben as he kissed her neck. 
Daenys sighed, “I know, but you know how much I hate seeing you injured; it kills me every time.” stated Daenys, kissing him softly on his lips. 
Benji apologized again to his wife, holding her close to him, kissing her crown as he gently rocked them. Daenys sighed in contentment before a mischievous look crossed her face. 
“Although I grew very excited once I saw you winning the fight. You look radiant, my love,” whispered Daenys, her grin growing as she heard her husband growled. 
Daenys squealed as Benjicot flipped her, him in between her legs. 
“One day, your pretty words will not have such an effect on me, my princess,” growled playful Benji as he nibbled on Daenys lips. 
Daenys giggled, “One day, but that day is not today,” grabbing her husband's shoulders as they continued to kiss.
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painted-flag · 7 months ago
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From Eden. Benjicot Blackwood
✧.* masterlist (Part two here)
✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x velaryon!oc
✧.* summary: caught in the brewing of war, Daenys Velaryon must forge alliances for her mother's claim to the throne. The Riverlands are paramount and she had the inexplicable luck of meeting Benjicot Blackwood.
✧.* word count: 11k.
✧.* note: this is a whopping long imagine. thank you all for the support on the preview. this is brought to you by instant ramen and my inability to focus on coursework. no beta reader as I live life on the edge (truthfully i do not have any)
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A loud clap of thunder followed in succession by the flashing of lightning illuminated the library of Dragonstone. In the late hour of the wolf, Daenys found herself entombed within the walls of parchment, scanning drawn-up battle plans and strategies written by maesters who had nary seen a single battle. The feeling of ever-present stress loomed over her, creeping from the shadows that were not illuminated by scattered candles. That feeling of anxiety - pressing down harshly on her chest - had been a footnote in her life. 
Daenys did not need to be a dragon dreamer, like her namesake, to see the future of her house. War was coming, that much was obvious. She knew at the age of nine that her mother’s claim would be challenged and since then her life had been spent preparing. The intensity of conflict did not matter, Daenys would be prepared regardless. So, like most nights, she had settled herself among the pages of books. Her body, worn from training all day, had relished in the feeling of sitting down in a plush chair. 
The book in her lap, An Analysis of Ground Moves of the First Dornish War, had begun to kill her mood. The maestor who wrote it had no skill of explanation, nor seemed to have care for fighting in general. She cursed his weak analyses on certain moves and more outwardly she cursed the tone in which he wrote when speaking of her Targaryen ancestors - in particular the women. Daenys leaned back in her chair and repressed the urge to chuck to tome across the room. All that access to knowledge and training yet maesters still seemed to fall short. 
The echoes of footsteps sounded between claps of thunder. Daenys glanced up to see her mother. Rhaenyra had her hair down in light waves. The nightclothes she wore were made from black and red fabrics and stitched in the fashion of dragon-influenced style, part of a matching set that the two women shared. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth set in a line. The heir apparent sat down in the chair beside her daughter and glanced at the book in Daenys lap. 
“The hour is late, yet you are out of bed?” 
Daenys’ arms rested on the book, “Sleep could not come.” 
“Or have you run from sleep? Increasingly so, as of late.” Her mother’s observation cut deep. It was true, for Daenys had become antsy. More and more nights were spent reading, and even more days training with the sword. Exhaustion had become her friend and respite her enemy. She felt behind, as her training had only started a few years prior - after years of requesting to learn. Any day a war could break, yet she sat about for most of her life doing nothing but sewing and other pointless tasks to be a good wife.
“Don’t you feel it, mother? That sinking feeling of... something clawing at your feet for that damned throne.” Daenys’ gaze rose to meet Rhaenyra. As her mother's only daughter by birth, they held a certain bond. The ability to understand what one another wished to say without so much as a word. A twitch of the brow, a quiver of the lip, or the tilt of their head was worth more than what any uttered words could convey. Mother and daughter, one unable to live without the other. Like bees and flowers or the moon and sun. A push and pull of exchange. Rhaenyra knew her daughter wanted to help, and it crushed her. She wanted Daenys to live without that fear - to relish in her days as a princess. 
“The burden is not yours to bear alone,” Daenys spoke after a minute of silence. Rhaenyra sported a fleeting smile at her daughter's words. 
“I know, but it does not pain me any less,” Rhaenyra adjusted in her seat, “Is there anything you wish to discuss about it?” 
“We need the Riverlands.” There was not a moment of pause between her mother's question and the answer. “There is loyalty secured in many regions, especially the North, but the Riverlands are important. We do not have a strong enough hold there.” 
Rhaenyra resisted smiling at Daenys eagerness in politics. Had she been born minutes before Jacaerys instead of afterwards, Rhaenyra would have been confident in claiming her as heir. Jacaerys, as dutiful as he could be, was still lagging in comparison to his twin regarding diplomacy. 
“And how do you propose to remedy this?” 
Daenys paused, reluctance flashed across her face for a moment but she pushed it down. “I have to marry.” Rhaenyra tilted her head in a questioning manner but Danys continued, “I know I have been against it, but you need a strong foothold in those lands. Many major battles in history are fought there and if our house is to remain strong, we must command as much of it as possible.” 
“The Tully’s have no available members to marry.” 
“We needn't rely on House Tully. There are other houses there that are sure to have available sons. House Frey, Mooton, Bracken, Mudd, Blackwood, Lothston, and many more. One that is as close to the Tully’s as possible and stocked with a good amount of soldiers.” Daenys’ gaze swept along the darkened room, the bookshelves being illuminated by a small number of candles and the raging storm outside. 
“I want you to be happy-” 
“My happiness is seeing you on that throne. Mother, you deserve it more than any other fat and drunk lord who lives on the continent.” The women giggled, and for a brief moment the storm outside - political and natural - ceased to exist. 
“This is what you want?” Rhaenyra held her breath after she asked. Daenys nodded gently. They once again settled into a silence, their eyes focused on the flames inside the hearth. More thunderous roars from outside continued to assail Dragonstone. “I have some news, of which only a few know.” 
Daenys sat up straighter, intrigued with what her mother had brought up. She marked her spot in the book and placed it on the small table beside her chair. Her body turned to see her mother more clearly. 
“I am with child.” Rhaenyra’s words echoed in the room, “It was just confirmed this morning with the maester.” 
“That’s good news, mother, truly.” Daenys reached out to hold Rhaenyra’s hand. They both smiled, content to last in their bubble.
“I think it's a girl. There is something about this pregnancy that feels different than all the rest.” The heir to the Iron Throne spoke softly, but loud enough to be heard above the raging storm. 
“Good. We’ve been dreadfully lacking women in the family. We are outnumbered.” Daenys looked back at her book, the title of the First Dornish War embossed into the leather binding, “Visenya.” 
Rhaenyra looked at her quizzically, and Daenys continued, “You should name her Visenya.” 
Her mother smiled gently and nodded, “I shall take that to heart. Now,” She got out of her seat, “Get to bed, ñuha prūmia.” Rhaenyra gave Daenys a gentle kiss on her forehead before walking away and out of the library. 
Daenys stayed in her seat, gazing mindlessly into the fireplace. Her heart was heavy. The prospect of marriage never worried her much. Any suitor that wished to court her quickly ran upon seeing her stepfather Daemon, who always seemed to grip Dark Sister tightly when they approached - a signal of warning. She never had to worry about ending up with a foul lord, or even end up marrying any time soon. Yet, her allegiance to her mother was stronger than any distaste for being wed. She got up and blew out some of the candles around her. 
She made her way across the library, down the many winding halls of Dragonstone, and into her bedchamber. Once settled at her vanity, she put her hair in a simple braid to protect it while she slept. Turning towards her bed, she spotted her sword resting against the chest placed at its foot. She walked over and unsheathed the steel. It was not Valyrian steel, unfortunately. But, the piece was expertly crafted at the behest of Daemon. Her hand gripped the hilt and the other gently traced the centre of the blade. 
Daenys swore that she would not make the task of gaining her hand easy for the Riverland lords. If her mother were to gain an ally, he would need to prove his worth. She had built up a reputation over the years. A beauty, that much is true, and the ability to charm members of the court easily, despite what some gossip about her parentage may say. However, upon being taught to fight by Daemon, she had managed to also build up a reputation for sharp wit and even sharper fighting skills. 
Exhaustion had finally caught up to her, so she moved to put the sword away and crawl into bed. Once settled, Daenys fell into a world of dreams. 
───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────
Daenys wished, with all her heart, that she could go back in time and club herself over the head for even suggesting a search for a husband in the Riverlands. The conversation with her mother two weeks ago quickly led to plans being laid. Daenys, on the back of her dragon Suneater, and her brother Jacaerys on the back of Vermax, had arrived at Riverrun to be greeted by Lord Elmo Tully. A kind old man, with dark red hair, streaked with the white of age. Daenys did not wish for her brother to accompany her, but Rhaenyra was adamant that she have a member of the family there to make sure she was not completely alone. Rhaenyra also added that it would help Jace’s claim to the throne more if he met and treated the lords of the Riverlands. 
However, the trip to the Riverlands quickly became sour. On the third day there after settling in, the petitions began. She was only a few hours in, and Daenys had already grown frightfully bored by the endless men - young and very much old - that made their case. Lord of this castle or that holdfast, it did not matter. All the men started to blend into one, with a few that managed to stand out. She sat on a raised dias in the grand hall of Riverrun, with Lord Tully to her right and Jace to her left. Occasionally, after a particularly awkward or gross petition, Jace and Daenys would glance at one another in complete awe. Daenys had underestimated the audacity of some men and now she finally understood why Rhaenyra had so many wild stories of overzealous lords making their petitions to her. At first, her stories seemed too odd to be fully real, but now in Daenys’ own few hours of experience, there was no doubt left in her. 
She leaned back and stifled a yawn as the old man in front of her droned on about his experience in some battle long ago. Lord Tully saw the princess's mood and leaned forward, “Thank you, Lord Ryger, for your attendance. It appears we shall end the petitions for the day and continue on the morrow.” 
Daenys resisted letting out a sigh of relief, though the look on Jace’s face showed he was just as relieved as her. Many men in the hall said their proper goodbyes, bowing to them before exiting. 
“Thank you, Lord Tully. It seems that I have many people to consider.” Daenys gave him a flattering smile, hoping that it could mask her previous displays of indifference. 
“That is good,” Lord Tully stood up and bowed to both her and Jace, “I shall you both at the feast tonight.” 
Once gone, Daenys sat up straighter in her seat and turned her torso towards her brother, “There’s to be a feast?” 
“Of course there is.” Jace smiled at the exasperated look on his sister's face. Truly, the whole time he had been rather entertained. A little bored, but ultimately found humour in his sister's expressions throughout the morning of lords' petitions. 
She leaned back in her seat and slid down slightly, sighing loudly. “A whole bloody feast.” Jace began to laugh, but Daenys would have none of it. “Don’t be too quick to humour, brother. All the lords who are already married are bound to have daughters, and as the future heir to the throne, I do believe they will flock to you like flies to shit.” 
“Are you saying I am the shit in your comparison?” The smile on Jace’s face faded. 
“You said it, Jace, not I.” She bounced to her feet and made her way towards the exit. 
Jace called out as she left, “And where are you off to?” 
“To Suneater,” Daenys responded while looking over her shoulder, “Lords cannot follow me into the sky.” She walked away to the sound of her brother's light chuckles. The dress she was wearing had begun to feel heavy on her, the weight of her mission to gain a good husband to aid in any possible future challenges to her mother seemed impossible. From the men she met so far… the outcome was looking bleak. There was one man who was closer to her age, yet every detail about him escaped her. Was it Aken… perhaps Barken… Breaker? The only detail worth noting about him was the garish yellow shade he wore, the rest was all exactly like every other man before. 
Daenys had changed into her riding leathers and gleefully made her way through the halls and to the courtyard. Upon exiting the castle, she glanced around the yard full of many men who were talking and sparring. The bustling laughter continued, with some lords near her choosing to greet her. Daenys pushed off many wishing to start a conversation with the excuse of going to visit her dragon. At the mere mention of her companion, the lords backed off. They are too fearful at the thought of a dragon, why do they think they are fit to marry one?
Glancing around at the fighting people while proceeding through the courtyard, she looked at a group. They were sporting red and black, and a feeling of homesickness washed over her. House Targaryen colours were familiar to her, mixed with Velaryon colours of course - for her father. The hushed voices of her uncles echoed in her mind; Bastard. 
Brushing that thought away, she decided to watch the group. The men dressed in those colours were sparring. A blond struggled against the blows from a dark-haired man, his lean and built form assailing with strength. 
It seemed that whenever the blond one got the upper hand, it only lasted for a short time. Daenys slowed her walking as she passed. While she was many metres away, she could still hear the words of encouragement and jest by the other men around them - dressed in the same colours of black and red. The blond man was facing her, and upon seeing the Princess, got momentarily distracted. The dark-haired man moved quickly, knocking his opponent to the ground in one fell swoop of his legs. The blond crashed to the ground and let out a string of curses, his clothes muddied. 
“Is the ground comfortable, Rickard?” The dark-haired man joked. The men around would have laughed, but their eyes moved to where the blond, Rickard, had his eyes. They all seemed frightened. Daenys could tell they were all around her age and most likely had never seen a member of the Royal family, given the fact that they were frozen on the spot. Rickard got up, albeit in a clumsy manner, and tilted his head down in a subtle bow with the rest of the men following. 
The dark-haired man turned and his eyes met hers. She could not gauge their colour, as she was standing a good few feet away. The grip on his sword slacked. He seemed stunned and a faint red coated his face. Daenys could not tell if it was from his training or her presence. He nodded to her and she hummed gently before nodding back to him and the other men. 
While Daenys was intrigued by those men, all she wanted was a reprieve from the men around her. She turned her body and continued on her previous course, oblivious to the stares that followed. On the other side of a hill - a fair distance from the gates of Riverrun - lay Suneater and Vermax. The two were beside one another, as their personalities blended. Occasionally, the two would clash much like her and Jace, but truly acted as siblings. Daenys felt the weight on her chest that accumulated throughout the day disappear. Finally, she could be free, even just for a while. 
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The hours had passed in mere moments. Daenys had begun her flight midday and had landed as the sun began to set, giving her just enough time to get to her chambers and have the maids prepare her for the feast. She was delighted that the courtyard was relatively empty, save for a few servants mulling about. No pesky conversations to derail her. 
However, Daenys heard the sound of grunting and the beating of a sword. She turned to a corner of the yard to see the same dark-haired man still training. The others had left, but he lingered on. His back was to her, but she doubted he would even notice her if he was facing in her direction. He seemed completely enraptured in the swings of his sword, as if the world had disappeared and here he remained. 
Daenys recognized this focus. She too felt that, albeit when riding her dragon. It was a feeling of belonging like there was nothing else meant for her to do. No more masking and pretending to feel like the people around her, just free to get lost in something she loved. The process of becoming a different person and getting lost in the way it makes you feel. She believed it must be a similar thing to the way he was fighting. She paused for a moment to study his form. Strong, but sly. With each stroke of the sword, images of the royal painters appeared in her mind. The art of their brush strokes mirrored that of the steel he swung. Calculated and precise, but free. Each time the steel met the straw dummy, it looked like paint hitting a canvas. 
Daenys did not wish to disturb his focus, but the burning intrigue of who this man was had overpowered that wish, “I do believe he is dead.” The man stopped with a jump and swung his body around in quick succession, his eyes alert. It was only upon seeing Daenys and assessing her as no immediate threat that he let his guard down. 
“Yes, princess, um… indeed.” His response made Daenys almost wish she did not disturb him. It was clear that he appeared slightly shy when not engrossed in combat. A part of her related to it. 
“I apologize for my earlier interruption. It was not my intention to have distracted your friend.” Daenys stepped close and leaned against a fence that connected to the large stables. She was within just a metre or two of the man and could now finally see him more clearly. He was a pleasant sight, exceedingly so compared to the dozens of men she met that morning. 
“You need not apologize, princess. It was his fault, he should have been focusing on the fight.” 
“Well, I hope he is alright from the fall, Lord…” Daenys trailed off, hoping to know his name. She thought back to her morning in the hall and meeting all the lords who contended for her hand. She could not remember him. That could not be right, she would remember a man who looked like that. It seemed that he was not there in the morning, most likely to see her in the days to come. 
“Benjicot Blackwood, your grace.” He nodded at her, his dark hair moved gently in the subtle breeze. 
“It is nice meeting you, Lord Blackwood.” Daenys smiled at him. She felt unusual, to be taken by charm so quickly and with so few words. She searched within her brain for any knowledge regarding the family. It was an old house, with roots deep within Westeros spanning back to the first men. Kings during the Age of Heroes. She remembered reading about their ability to field an army larger than that of House Tully, yet still bent the knee to them. 
“You flatter me, princess, but I am not Lord Blackwood yet. My father still presides over Raventree Hall.” Benjicot’s voice was calm, despite his appearance coming off as slightly nervous. 
“I am sorry, Lord Benjicot, for the misunderstanding.”
Ben broke eye contact and gazed around the courtyard for a moment before returning to her, “We seem to be apologizing repeatedly to one another, your grace.” 
“Yes, let us end that,” Daenys situated herself to sit on the fence, a rather unladylike action. She found that she could get away with that type of behaviour the further she was from the court of Kings Landing and Dragonstone. “What brings a member of House Blackwood to Riverrun at this time?” 
“Well, the crown princess happens to be visiting,” Ben answered. 
“I heard she is spoilt and vain.” Daenys joked.
Ben seemed to loosen up just slightly at her friendliness, “She is not so bad. Rather pleasant if you ask me.” The two stare at one another for a few moments, wondering which one would break the jest first. In a display of synchrony, they both smiled and let out a short burst of laughter. 
Daenys spoke after calming down, “So I am just pleasant, my lord?” 
“Yes, your grace, incredibly so.” Ben’s words sounded more sincere than expected and it caught Daenys slightly off guard. 
“You are not so bad, as well, Lord Benjicot. Incredibly so.” Daenys jumped down from the fence and brushed off her hands that were resting along the wood. “I hope you are not absent from the feast tonight as you were this morning. I should like to speak to you more, my lord.”
“I will be there princess.” 
The two both nodded to one another before Daenys began to walk away. As she retreated, she could not help but feel a little less stressed about the feast. Maybe the idea of being surrounded by boisterous lords, many eager to dance with her, would not be so bad if Benjicot Blackwood was there. 
───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────
The band was in full swing. The echoes of their instruments, playing a quick jig, bounced off the vaulted walls of the great hall. People sat at multiple long tables and ate from the vast amounts of plated food. There were others out of their seats, conversing with groups or dancing in the centre of the room. Lord Tully was at the centre of a table position in front of all the others. The Velaryon twins sat on either side of him. Jacaerys and Lord Tully were engaged in deep conversation on a topic Daenys had little care for. She stared at her plate of food. No matter how hard she tried, Daenys could not will herself to eat. The nerves of this night and having countless men stare at her made her stomach ache and turn. 
A figure stood up at the table, bowing to all three of them. He was adorned in brown and a muted yellow colour, with the sigil of a red stallion on his chest. While Daenys did think it ugly, she could not say the same for his appearance. He had a slender figure, and his facial structure was pretty for a man. His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, most of it pulled into a tie at the back with some loose strands. 
“Lord Tully, Prince Jacaerys, Princess Daenys,” He started, “It would be an honour to ask the princess if she should like to dance.” 
“I believe my sister would love to join you,” Jace answered. 
Daenys kept her head facing the man while her eyes turned to the side. Jacaerys was looking at her, an amused smile on his face. She focused back on the man and put on a pleasant smile, “It would be my pleasure.” She slowly got out of her chair, hoping for some miracle to prevent their dance. A fire set in the hall, or perhaps the gods could shake the earth and swallow her whole. 
When the man took hold of her arm to escort her, Daenys turned around and mouthed to her brother: traitor. Jace just waved slightly and picked up a mug of ale. The two made their way to the dance floor and joined many others. Her hands clasped hers as they faced one another and began moving. Daenys had to concentrate on her footwork, as her dancing skills were never the greatest.
“Aeron Bracken, your grace. I am sure you remember me from this morning.”
“Ah yes, how could I forget such a memorable petition… with ah… great accomplishments.” Daenys gave him a fake smile. She hoped that response would satisfy Aeron, as she truthfully had no memory of what his petition was. The words he had said sounded the same as all the rest, so despite not remembering, she could guess that they revolved around their accomplishments and house. 
“It gladens me that you have been thinking about me, your grace.” 
Daenys almost scoffed. Where did she ever mention thinking about him? Why would she think of him of all men? There was a brief flash of red and black in her vision, accompanied by a blur of dark hair. Swallowing her frustration down, she continued her womanly facade. 
“Yes, House Bracken is wonderful in their abilities and longstanding position in history.” The few things she knew about the house were their origins with the first men, and their proclivity to engage in petty disputes with other houses. She thought it best to not bring up the latter information. However, it did not seem that she would not have to bring it up as Aeron began to rant.
“There are some houses here that are not as fortunate or kind as mine. Some that are no good to be around, your grace.” Aeron’s face darkened slightly as his vision zeroed in on a group across the hall. Daenys turned and strained her eyes, for she was not as tall as him. Upon seeing through the crowd who he was looking at, her brows furrowed. Benjicot Blackwood stood conversing with a group of men at one of the tables. 
Aeron looked away and back at the princess, “I caution you with keeping the company of Blackwoods. They can be savage and cruel.” 
A flood of information swooped over her mind. A week prior to leaving for the Riverlands, she had tirelessly scanned through books on their history. She suddenly realized why both of the Houses sounded familiar. Out of the countless battles she read about, House Blackwood and Bracken were frequently are the forefront and more often than not the ones that started those conflicts. 
Daenys felt an odd urge to defend Benjicot, “You do not think I did my research before coming here, Lord Aeron?” 
“No, princess, that was not my intention,” He seemed to stumble over his words and his face flushed, “I just wish to protect you.” 
“I do not need your protection, my lord. I do believe having a dragon does that for me.” Daenys was thankful that the song was coming to a close. They separated and both bowed to one another like all the other partners on the floor. “Your baseless attempt at character assassination is just that, baseless. Thank you for the dance, Lord Aeron, but I think I will take my company elsewhere.”
Daenys gave him one last nod and walked away. She wanted to get away from Aeron quickly. She walked in the direction of Ben and his company of men, but an old lord stepped out in front of her just as she made it to him. The lord was old and greying, his wrinkled skin sagged against his stern face. Daenys never gagged at the sight of a person before, but she found herself almost doing so. 
“Princess Daenys, would you care for a dance?” His shrewd voice shattered her temporary relief. 
“Oh Lord–” She began, but was swiftly interrupted.
“Lord Mooton,” Benjicot had spotted her approaching and saw the lord moving her way and quickly lept to action, “It is good to see you. I believe it was your great grandson's twentieth nameday celebration that we last saw on another. I have heard that your wife was looking for you.” Ben had his shoulders squared and towered over the old man's form. Daenys and Ben exchanged looks, resisting the urge to laugh in the lord's face at this awkward exchange. 
“Oh, yes, Lord Benjicot. Apologies princess, for I must go.” The man bowed and moved away, his old form moving slowly. 
“I owe you, Lord Benjicot, for saving me.” Daenys smiled at him. Her arms joined behind her back as she swayed side to side. 
“You need not thank me, your grace. Though, I would appreciate it if you would do me the favour of joining me on the floor?” Ben held out his hand. While he seemed confident, Daenys could tell there was still a shy nature being hidden - it was clear in his eyes. The hand that was outstretched shook so slightly it was hard to catch, but she did. Just a few minutes ago she wanted nothing more than to stop dancing, but in this case, she did not mind it. She had just found the right partner. 
Daenys took his hand in hers and the shaking ceased, “I shall.” Ben escorted her to the floor and they began to dance. She was even more nervous, as her lack of talent in dance may embarrass her in front of him. Ben did not seem to mind for he guided her gently before she could make any mistakes. 
“You should have seen the look on your face when Lord Mooton spoke to you. Pure befuddlement, your grace, possible disgust as well.” Ben quickly turned her to the pace of the music. 
“Do not jest of that, my lord. I felt like I would die.” Daenys retorted. 
“You would die? I think it would be Lord Mooton that goes first, considering his age.” 
Daenys let out a short laugh, “I do not know what I would have done if I had to suffer a dance with him.” She almost shivered at the thought of that lord's eyes scanning her body in such a predatory way. 
“Do not worry about it, your grace. All it would take is a stiff breeze to knock him over and it would no longer be your problem. Perhaps I could jump out of nowhere and startle him to death for you?” The dance had Ben pulling her closer with both of their hands connected. 
“I did not take you as a man quick to murder.” 
“Ah, but for you, dear princess, I would not hesitate.” Ben’s words sounded incredibly sincere and he made sure to be looking right at her when he said them. 
“You flatter me, my lord,” Daenys said, “I wanted to mention it earlier, but I must compliment your skills in fighting. Watching you train was engaging.” 
Ben spun them around and kept pace with those around them, “I shall hold those words with me for life, your grace.” 
“I also wished to ask if we could spar together.” Daenys raised her brow at him, hoping that he would like the same as well. 
“I can not even think about attacking you, princess. It would be improper.” 
Daenys knew he would not relent so easily, “I have been learning for a few years now, you need not worry about it.”
One of Ben’s hands reached down to her waist as they had to start walking to the right in a circle with others dancing. “Princess, the moment I even go in to swing at you, regardless of practicing, every lord in the castle would hunt me down.” 
“Then we shall make sure nobody sees. After the morning petitions on the morrow, we can meet up outside the gates and find a clearing somewhere.” Daenys tried to distract herself from the way his hand felt on her waist.  
“After you have been driven to frustration by all the lords? I should be worried you may take that anger out on me.” Ben spun her around again. The two of them released their grip on one another, stepping back a few paces and turning before finally coming back together again.
“With the skills I saw today, I do believe you can handle it,” Daenys said.
“I can handle that and more, princess,” Ben responded and his grip on her hand and waist tightened slightly. Daenys blushed heavily and hoped that it would not be too noticeable. She paused momentarily to figure out how to retort, but no words came to her. They settled into silence for a moment. The music died down and the dance came to a close. Daenys and Ben released their hold on each other and took a step back. 
“Thank you for the dance, Lord Benjicot. You need not worry about attending the petitions tomorrow and putting forth your name. I do not need to hear your case as I already favour your company.” Daenys tried to say what she wanted to say without making it too obvious or breaking any rules of propriety. It would be unseemly for a woman to actively pursue someone, but that would not stop her from voicing her opinion. 
“I favour your company as well, princess,” Ben responded, though he seemed slightly stunned. Daenys smiled at him and went back to the main dining table. 
Lord Tully had left, most likely off speaking to some guests, but Jace still sat at the table. He was nursing a mug of ale in his hand and sent her a large grin. 
“What have you done now, dear brother?” 
“Nothing, sister, however, I must admit I did not take you as one who liked to dance.” 
Daenys sat down in the seat beside him. She reached out for some of the ale and swallowed it down. “I don’t like dancing.” 
“Then why did you spend five dances with the same man?” Jace asked. He gave off a tone of innocence to his question, but she could sense the subtle tease.
She paused for a moment to load some food on a plate. It was five dances? She could have sworn it was only for a minute or two. Deciding not to voice that, she continued. “Why did you care to count?” 
“Because you are my sister and it is my job to watch out for you. Tell me, who is he?” 
Daenys was almost reluctant to answer but knew Jace would continue to pry until he got one. “Benjicot Blackwood.” 
“...So?” Jace placed his ale down and showed her his full attention. 
“Pardon?” 
“What do you think of him? You seem quite taken.” Jace nudged her shoulder gently. 
“We met earlier in the day. He seems nice and is easy to converse with. However, the manner of me being taken by him is none of your concern.” 
Jace leaned back in his seat and laughed, “Ah, okay. So it is not my concern that this whole time we have been talking, Lord Benjicot has not stopped looking at you.” 
Daenys froze. Jace held his gaze to her side, where other people were, and must have been looking at Ben. She knew he was there. Now that she was told, she could practically feel Ben’s gaze on the side of her face. She felt herself getting flushed again. That whole night, she felt like she was on the verge of a meltdown with all of the lords looking at her. Their greedy gazes wished to have her solely to claim her blood for their children. Yet, Daenys could not help but crave the gaze of that dark-haired man. She shook her head gently and stood up abruptly. 
“I have become tired, Jace. I shall retire for the night.” Daenys did not wait for her brother's response before she scrambled to get out of the hall. Her feet carried her swiftly out of the large doors and down the stone hallway. She picked up her pace once away from the prying eyes of people. Her hands gripped the skirt of her dress, the palms clammed up.
Upon reaching her guest chamber, Daenys threw the door open before shutting it quickly. Her chest rose up and down with each breath and the bodice felt tighter than it was just minutes ago. Her actions of the day quickly came flooding back at her. This was not supposed to happen. This was never part of the plan. 
Daenys somehow felt like she had failed her mother. She came to the Riverlands to find a strategic match, not find herself relishing in the company of some man. She was no believer. The princess knew from a young age that any sort of marriage was to be one of convenience, one arranged. She felt better having some bit of freedom in choice, but that choice was still dictated by what would be best for securing her mother’s throne if it were to come to war. 
Now, she found herself waiting with bated breath for her sparring session with Ben. As if counting the minutes would make the time go by faster. Logically, House Blackwood would be a great house to align with. They can handle more soldiers than the Tullys despite the Tullys being liege lords of the Riverlands. There is an extensive history of military triumph and a fair amount of wealth - not just monetarily - connected to Raventree Hall. It would be completely fine to connect their two houses, yet her budding feelings for Ben made her feel as though that decision was biased. 
Mother would know what to do. She always does. 
Daenys sat on the end of her bed, gazing out of the opened shutters of a window and staring into the night. The stars looked beautiful, but she missed the familiar sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores of Dragonstone. Homesickness washed over her. She went to the desk in a corner of the room and retired some parchment. The inkwell was full and a quill lay next to it. If there was one person she could vent to and get advice, it would be her mother. 
 ───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────
The next day, Daenys found herself in the same spot she was in the previous day. In the great hall, with Lord Tully and Jace, watching as dozens of men spoke about themselves. How great their houses are, how great they are, and how extensive their coffers are. Except today felt different than previously. She was more impatient. All she focused on was her meeting with Ben later. The ability to speak to him more freely outside of the prying watch of others. 
To be caught would be scandalous, however, that thought made it more thrilling. 
Once Lord Tully concluded the gathering, Daenys quickly left her chair. She did not run, as it would be unladylike, but she moved as fast as was socially accepted. She went back to her room to dress in the proper attire and retrieve her sword. Once finished, Daenys opened her door and crashed into someone's chest. Jacaerys stood there, barely having been knocked by her slamming into him. 
“And where do you think you’re going?” 
Danys adjusted her clothing, “Out to train.” 
“Alone?” Jace raised his brow. Although he asked the question, it was as if he already knew the answer. 
“Must I even entertain such a question?” Daaenys sighed. 
“Don’t do anything Mother would not approve,” Jace told her. Daenys resisted the urge to laugh. While Rhaenyra did not speak to her sons about her youth, she spoke to Daenys about it. The stories of her sneaking away with Daemon and later her trysts with Sir Harwin were mentioned in hushed voices over tea times. Gossiping together was one of Daenys’ favourite pastimes. 
“Of course, Jace. I will be as pious as Mother.” Daenys answered before moving down the hallway. She was almost skipping with joy at the prospect of spending the rest of the day with Ben. 
Outside the gates of Riverrun, Ben was leaning against a tree as he waited for her. When she came in sight, she sent him a smile and a slight wave. He got off the tree and walked to her as well. Once close, they began moving in the direction of the dense forest. 
“Are you well rested, your grace? You left the feast early last night.” 
She paused before responding. “If I am entirely honest, I miss my home. I left to write a letter to my mother.” She did not feel it necessary to touch on the fact that the very nature of that letter was primarily centred around him. 
“I am sorry to hear that princess. The Riverlands can be overwhelming for those not born here.” Ben paused to step over a high fallen tree trunk. On the other side, he offered his hand to her. 
“I did not mean it as a slight. I’ve found myself to be quite fond of these lands, my lord. It's beautiful here, truly.” Daenys tried not to think about how warm his hand was in hers. How the callouses were strangely comforting despite their roughness. She gently stepped on and over the trunk before coming back down. Her arm went down to her side, but their hands were still joined. She cleared her throat gently and Ben dropped her hand, coming back from wherever his mind wandered. They continued on their way under the canopy of trees. 
“Can I ask you something?” Daenys questioned. 
“Anything, your grace.” 
“Must we exhaust our title in conversation with one another? It would be much better, and easier if I may add, if you just called me Daenys.” 
Ben remained silent for a moment, his vision focused on the ground below him to not trip over a root. “That would not be appropriate, princess.” 
“At the very least, we can do so when we are alone?” Daenys awaited his answer. 
“Then just call me Ben or Benji. Benjicot can be a mouthful.” 
Daenys giggled, “Sounds good, Ben.” 
They both exchanged quick looks and then focused their attention back on where they were going. After walking for a while, they hit a small clearing. The grass was low and there were no objects around that they could trip on. 
“How much do you know of sparring, Daenys?” Hearing her name come from his voice had her dazed for a moment. It sounded good. 
Deciding to deceive him for a moment, she responded. “Only a little bit. Some basic offensive and defensive moves.” 
“Then we shall have a round to see where you are at. We will start with the wooden swords.” 
With his words, they moved into starting positions. Ben lunged first and his strike was blocked. She moved around him, turning quickly and striking him. He too managed to block it, but before he could make another move, Daenys swung again and hit his bicep. It was quick and unexpected, revealing that she may know more than what she stated. He was shocked for a moment and caught off guard. Ben smiled. He was excited by her quick thinking ability. 
“Were you telling the truth?” 
“Not quite, but the look on your face was worth it.” Daenys adjusted her stance, with the wooden sword still in her grip. 
“Who taught you? Many men seem reluctant to teach women these sorts of things.” 
“I begged for years. I was told it was not ladylike and surely not something a potential husband would accept in a wife. But, many months after my mother married my stepfather, I decided to ask one more time. I was ten and three when I did. I marched right up to Daemon and asked him. It felt inevitable that he would deny my request, but he just laughed and told me to be ready on the morrow in the sparring yard. I joined my brothers in their training.”
Daenys remembered that day vividly. She was scared out of her wits. Until then, she never really bonded much with Daemon and was terrified by his reputation. She had clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to hide their shaking. Her small frame, made even smaller in his presence, stood tall. Years later, Daenys would be confident in saying that her relationship with her stepfather was solid. 
“As in Prince Daemon?” Ben was bewildered, “Like the Rogue Prince?” 
“Yes, him.” 
Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I doubt you could learn anything from me then.” 
“Are you the one of those men who are ‘reluctant to teach women these sorts of things’?” Daenys used his words against him. 
“There are many things I could teach you.” Daenys pretended not to catch on to the other meaning of his words. She did not even know if that was intended by him. 
The two resumed their stances before going back to fighting. It was amazing how quickly time flew afterwards. Their bodies moved together in tandem. One moved forward, the other moved back. They bumped into one another multiple times. Daenys struggled to keep her beating heart under control when they would brush. It was occasionally hard to focus, as Ben looked increasingly better when he was in his element. She also pretended to not see the somewhat longing gaze he would send her way occasionally. 
During a moment when he was particularly distracted, she used it to her advantage. She swung forward, moving her wooden sword in a circle and disarming him. The move caused her body to be closer to him, and his reflexive move grabbed onto her wrist holding her sword and pulled her close in a grip hold. 
They were exhausted from the hours of movement. Daenys chest moved up and down at a rapid rate. The fog from their breaths intertwined in the air as their faces got close. Her free hand had somehow landed on his chest. There was no denying the lean muscle under his tunic and vest. 
“I thought you did not like it when people got easily distracted?” Daenys teased him. 
“Well, it is hard not to with you here,” Ben responded. His eyes stared into hers, an intensity hidden in them. 
Daenys could not for the sake of her life find a response. It was bold, his compliment. It would not be considered appropriate had they been anywhere else, but they were alone. The realization of that struck her. They were completely alone. Ben leaned in slightly but stopped. Due to their height difference, his nose brushed the top of her cheek. His breath was haggard. 
“Please tell me if I have misinterpreted any of your advances. Tell me and I swear I will leave you alone. I will go back to Raventree Hall and give you peace.” He voiced in a low whisper.
Ben began to pull away, but Daenys used her free hand resting on his chest to grip the fabric and hold him in place. 
“Don't go,” She began, “You have not misinterpreted me.”
“I will not do anything without your permission, my princess.” Daenys did not wish to correct him on addressing her by her title, for the use of the word ‘my’ before it lit something in her chest. He leaned back to where he previously was, his breath fanning her face. She nodded to him before leaning in and connecting their lips. 
It felt feverish, the unbridled heat that surged through her. She had the blood of the dragon, yes, but this was something else entirely. The wooden sword in her other hand, which was held at the wrist by his, dropped to the ground. He moved his hands, one going to her waist to pull her close and the other settling on the small of her back. His lips were chapped but felt soft nonetheless. His nose pressed into her cheek as he deepened the kiss. They both were unskilled in it, and they were slightly out of sink, but the passion was there. Daenys hands moved to his face, cupping it. Her thumbs brushed over his high cheekbones. The kiss gave her more warmth from the mild frigid weather around than any coat she could wear. There was a safety to it, an assurance of protection. 
For a brief moment in this foreign piece of land, Daenys felt at home. 
They pulled away, but only slightly so. Their noses still touched and she was grateful to feel any part of him. His hands squeezed gently, giving her some positive affirmation. 
“You are better at this than your swordsmanship.” Daenys joked. 
“You speak as if you have experience, Dany.” Her heart stopped for a moment at his nickname. 
She breathed in and out slowly, “You’re the first.” Ben nodded at her words, a breathless smile sweeping across his face. 
“For me as well.” They both were stuck in an embrace, eyes staring back at one another. 
“I…” Daenys paused to gain courage, “I would not mind if we could do that again.” She felt terribly shy by her request, and images of her younger self being rejected whenever she asked to learn how to fight flashed in her mind. Ben leaned forward and rested his forehead against her. An amused groan left his lips. 
“You will be the death of me, my princess.” He leaned forward and kissed her again.
───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────
Daenys sat in her bedchamber with a parchment scroll gripped in her hands. It had been a few days since she sent her letter to her mother and she had finally received a response. The petitions only lasted two days, with the rest being spent mingling among the lords during the day and feasts at night. It was the early hours of the morning and she had just finished bathing. She lounged in her room in a robe and ate from a platter of meats and cheeses to break her fast. 
The letter she had sent her mother had been filled with her worries. How she had met many lords of the Riverlands and some that may be of help. Largely, the contents centred around her blooming companionship with Benjicot Blackwood. Daenys revealed her troubles about feeling that she would be failing if she found herself attached unnecessarily. She felt that her judgement had been compromised by her affinity to Benjicot’s company. She may be overlooking another house that may be better for them come the outbreak of war. 
Rhaenyra’s response was just what she needed. Despite her mother not physically being there, her words soothed Daenys. The heir assured her that House Blackwood would be a good fit, not just strategically but for her happiness as well. She kept reading a section of the response over and over. 
I was never fully happy with your plan. Sending my only daughter off to pick an arrangement that would surely make her miserable. I of all people can relate. Let yourself feel, ñuha prūmia. You are allowed happiness, so pursue it. Many women of the realm would give anything to be in your position. Do not waste it for me and my troubles. 
Daenys sighed. It was the confirmation she had been waiting for. Over the last few days, she had slipped away from Riverrun and joined Benjicot in the woods to spar. Though, more often than not, the sparing would be accompanied by fleeting touches and fevered kisses. Despite the dropping of formalities, he still treated her as his princess. Which, if Daenys was honest, was not a bad thing.
All the time spent with him, the voice in the back of her head had filled her with worries about failing her mother. Now, with confirmation that her choice was not wrong, Daenys felt the urge to rise from her chair and keep running until she found him. Jump in his arms perhaps. But that would not be appropriate and she cursed the realm for their stupid rules. 
Daenys got up and changed into her gown for the day. She had dismissed the maids earlier, wishing to have some semblance of peace. When she was situated in her attire and sat at her vanity to style her hair, a knock sounded on the door. 
“Come in!” Daenys called out gently as her fingers moved to meticulously form a braid. 
Jace walked in. His hand rested on the sword at his hip as he sauntered over to her vanity. “Good morrow, sister.” 
“Good morrow to you,” Daenys pinned up the finished braid and moved to work on another, “What brings you to my chambers this morning? Normally you would be out hunting with one of the lords.” 
“While that is true, I did just have to most interesting conversation while I broke fast,” Jace paused, “With Benjicot Blackwood.” 
Her fingers halted their movement and she looked at him through the large mirror positioned in front of her. Jace was smiling, but it was not the usual smirk as a warning of him teasing her. It looked genuine. She tilted her head in curiosity. 
“And, pray tell, what were you two meeting for?” Daenys feigned a casual attitude. She did not want to reveal her nerves.
“He invited me to break fast together. It would be rude of me to deny him.” Jace answered. 
Daenys pinned another braid up, “You did not answer my question, brother.” 
“I believe it is Ben’s right to share.” 
She finished her hair and turned in her seat to face her brother. She narrowed her eyes at him. Why did Jace address him so informally? Her hands rested on the seat and she resisted the urge to grip them tightly. Daenys was confused and she did not like it one bit. She relaxed her shoulders and maintained a pleasant resting face. 
“I did not know you two were so close.” 
Jace was picking up and inspecting the bottles of oils and serums on her table, displaying a sense of casualty. “Oh yes, one may say we could be brothers.” 
“Enough, Jacaerys. Tell me now.” 
Her brother set a glass vial down and backed away. He continued to smile while going to her door. “I will be out riding for the morning. Have a good day, sister.” Jace then opened the door and left Daenys to sit and mull over their conversation. 
“Bloody halfwit.” Daenys huffed. 
───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────
The princess found herself strolling through the halls of Riverrun. There were no particular activities she planned for the day, so her mind was distracted. It was near an alcove that a hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. She was pulled in with another hand covering her mouth. Her shout of surprise was muffled. Daenys found herself in a secluded area with her back against the stone. There was a tiny window giving the area a hint of morning glow. 
 Fear flooded her veins and she cursed herself for leaving any means of a weapon in her room. She brought her leg up to knee the assailant in the crouch. A shout of pain came from the figure, a voice so familiar. When the man crouched over the ease the pain, the streaks of light from the window illuminated his face.
“Ben! Oh, I am so sorry.” 
Daenys moved to hold his shoulders but he just held up his arms while still in visible pain, “No, Dany, this was my doing. Not the wisest decision to sneak up on you like this.” Benjicot was doing everything to show he was not in pain, but failing. He breathed in deeply. 
“Great strength and good form, my princess.” Ben tried to laugh it off, but his chest still heaved. 
“Dearest, what in the seven hells was that?” Daenys crossed her arms. 
“Oh, if I knew what it would take to be called such a sweet nickname by you, Dany, then I would have injured myself sooner.” Ben beamed at her. He managed to get over the pain quickly and stood straight. His arms moved to wrap around her waist and pull her from the wall towards his chest. 
Daenys arms rested on his shoulders. “What if I had my knife on me?” 
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have been stabbed,” Ben responded. 
“It is not funny. I could have seriously hurt you.” Daenys felt his thumbs making circles as he held her hips. 
Ben kissed the crown of her head, “I have no doubt you would have done serious damage, my princess.” 
They stood in their embrace in the dimly lit alcove. It seemed as though the only time they could spend together was during fleeting moments of isolation. Despite the worry of being caught, Daenys would not wish it to be any different. 
“My brother visited me this morning.” She began speaking, “Jace informed me of your shared meal.” 
Ben’s face dropped. Nervousness etched its way across it. “He told you what we spoke about?” 
“No,” Daenys answered. His unease cleared at her confirmation, “It was rather aggravating, what little information he gave. Is it something I should be worried about?” 
“Nothing to worry about, Dany.” One of his hands lifted to cup her face. He moved his thumb up and down her cheek.
“Can I be privy to it? Or is it some man thing?” Her hands, which were resting on his shoulders, moved lower to settle on his chest.
“No. I planned on making a show of this, but truly I cannot wait any further.” 
Daenys tilted her head, “And what can’t you wait for?” 
“Well, I went to ask your brother first, as I am a gentleman who does not wish to compromise you and-” Ben began, but was swiftly cut off by Daenys.
“You? A gentleman? You may not have compromised my maidenhood, but that thing you did with your tong-”
“My love, please, I cannot be distracted by such a memory.” Ben closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to calm down. “I wished to ask your brother for permission to court you.” 
Daenys waited with bated breath. “And my brother?” 
“He is a very agreeable man. He acquiesced but noted that ultimately, the decision remains with you.” Ben tightened his hold on her. 
She smiled widely, “I believe you already know my answer.” 
The two broke into laughter before quickly leaning in to kiss. They pushed against one another. Desperation, earnestness, and care poured out of them. Most of all, pure relief. Daenys shivered at the intimacy of his hold on her. One of Ben’s hands cradled the back of her head as he pushed them back to the wall, cushioning her from the jagged stone. A groan slipped from his mouth as Daenys opened hers. The kiss was possessive, and his grip tightened. The hold on her waist warmed, and his fingers threaded through her hair. 
“You are so beautiful.” Ben voiced between kisses before moving back to devour her again. His lips trailed from her mouth, across her cheek and to her neck. He stopped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Daenys sighed at the contact, heat flaming through her body. 
“Ben, someone may come.” 
“Damn them. I do not care.” He seemed intent on kissing her, with his mouth moving to her collarbone. 
“I would rather not have my honour questioned, my love.” 
He paused and lifted his head to look at her. His eyes held an intensity she had scarcely seen from him before, “Say the word and any man who questions you will be dead.” 
“As much as your words are comforting, I could not put you in such a position,” Daenys gave him a chaste kiss, “I am just happy my brother gave his approval.” 
“If you were only there. He did try his best to be intimidating.” Ben said. 
“Jace was never good at threatening people. Were you scared?” She joked. 
“I feigned some bit of fear,” He began, “I find men to be more pliable when they feel better about themselves.” Ben stood proud of himself. He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his mouth to lay small kisses on her knuckles. 
“So you manipulated my bother?” 
“I would not call it that. Moreso gentle encouragement to achieve the answer I so desired.” Ben skirted her question and began to rock them gently side to side, “But even if he did manage to scare me, no amount of fear would stop me.”
Daenys pulled back from his embrace, “No amount of fear would stop you?” 
Ben paused his movements and looked her in the eyes, “I don’t like that look on your face, my dear. You’re up to something.” 
“Well, since you wish to court me, there is one such condition from me.” Daenys tried to ease his piqued curiosity. Ben awaited her explanation. “Meet Suneater.” 
His face fell immediately. His eyes darkened and the muscles in his body tightened. Daenys saw his reaction and worked to soothe him by grabbing his hands and rubbing them. 
His voice came out strained, “You want me to meet your dragon?” 
───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────
Daenys giggled as she led Ben through the muddy pathway outside of Riverrun. Her dragon and Vermax were perched outside the castle, as it was not a large enough estate to hold the both of them. She held his hand clasped in hers as the two made their way to the sleeping dragon. They came across a clearing that was surrounded by a low stone wall. Jace had taken Vermax for a flight, so Suneater was alone. She lay curled and sleeping peacefully. Her strong breath came out of her nose. 
Suneater had dark grey scales. However, upon closer inspection, there were subtle gold flakes throughout her body, intensifying at the base of the scales before being covered by the black of a next one layered above. Daenys had never known a bond such as the one she held with her dragon. Her closeness to her family was strong- especially Jace since they were twins. But her dragon was entirely something else. 
Now that Benjicot wished to be with her, he must know all of her. Suneater was the other part of her soul. Despite hatching in her cradle and being of the same age, Daenys view her as a daughter. 
Daenys let go of Ben’s hand and walked to her dragon, “Sȳz ñāqes, Suneater.” Good morrow. Suneater’s eyes blinked open and her head lifted to see her rider approaching. Ben had stopped walking and stood by the entrance, unsure of whether or not he should get closer. “Hilago, sagon sȳz. Nyke hae bisa vala.” Please, be good. I like this man.
She reached out to scratch Suneater’s chin. The dragon let out a near purring sound at the contact and closed her eyes. Daenys continued her movements and turned to Ben. 
“Come here. She won’t hurt you.” Upon seeing Ben still standing, Daenys continued. “I swear she will not do anything. You have my word.” 
After that, Ben moved towards her. His steps were slow and calculated as he wadded through the low grass. Once he was about a metre near her, Suneater’s eyes snapped open to stare him down. A puff of air left her nostrils and Ben seized his movements to a halt. 
“Gīda. Rȳbagon.” Calm. Listen. Daenys assured her. Suneater calmed down but kept her eyes on Ben. He was an unknown man who stood too close to her rider. Daenys used her other hand to grab Ben and pull him closer. Once he was beside her, she spoke up, “You can touch her.” 
Ben swerved his head and gave her a look muddled with alarm and uncertainty. He breathed in and out slowly to stay calm next to such an intimidating beast. 
“Touch her?” His voice dripped with fear. 
“Calm down, Ben, its not like I am asking you to fly with me.” He seemed to ease at her words, “Not yet, at least.” 
Ben sputtered but went completely silent when Daenys grabbed his hand and placed it on the dragon's side. Her hand, in its small size, barely covered his. Ben felt the scales and the subtle breathing of the beast. His fear swept away and was replaced with awe. As a boy, he had heard of many older men around him who had seen dragons, but never himself had he ever seen one. The stories in his books growing up were filled with him, the history books even more so when covering events after the Conquest. In all his dreams, never did he think he would be standing so close to one and touching it. 
“See, it is not so bad.” Daenys laughed gently. She grabbed his shoulder and rubbed it gently. 
“Yes. It is not so bad.” Ben was still breathless. 
He removed his hand after a while and, with a surge of confidence, leaned down to kiss Daenys. It was a calm one, not as heated and passionate as the others. His strong arms pulled her against his chest. Daenys melted in his hold and kissed him back. She did not believe she could ever tire from kissing him. Her heart swelled. 
For the first time in many years, Daenys prioritized her own happiness. 
Ben pulled back and looked her in the eyes, “You are a wonder.” Their foreheads connected. The two closed their eyes and relished the sounds of nature around them. The steady breeze brushed the branches of trees and the crows spoke as they flew around. The rumbling of breath from Suneater produced a steady beat to focus on. 
The lovers stood in that field, each far from their homes - one more so than the other - and felt nothing but a sense of belonging. 
A budding love became solidified in their bond that day. Each mirrored the other. Their gentle demeanours were undercut by their cunning in the ways of fighting. Both a ticking bomb of violence, who would gladly follow the other into any battle. 
_______________
✧.* endnote: apologies for any typos or terrible grammar. i did come up with a couple more ideas centred around these two, so if it is wanted i could write (much shorter) pieces about these two. thank you all for the support that has been given. i appreciate it more than you know <3
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youngirlfrom · 1 month ago
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MY ONLY DAUGHTER
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| The true heir to the Iron Throne looked at the newborn baby in her arms with pure love in her eyes, "My only daughter, my sweet little girl. I will not let anyone touch even a hair of your hair. No one will dare to hurt you. I will ensure that their laughter spreads throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Your mother will be with you until her last breath, my beautiful Daena." said.
Although the laughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, Daena, spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, no one heard them as much as her cries of pain.
| the first chapters will be about the childhood of Daena and the others. |
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chapter 1 | Queen's Delight
"I hope it's a girl," little Daena said as she gently caressed her mother's belly. There was a childish innocence in her eyes and a confident smile on her lips. "I don't want any more brothers. Boys are too loud and rude."
Rhaenyra laughed loudly at her daughter's words, her voice filling the warm atmosphere of the room. She reached out and caressed Daena's soft cheek. "If it's a girl, would you like to name her?" she asked.
Daena's eyes suddenly sparkled with excitement. She was practically jumping on the spot, and with her little hands clenched into fists, she let out a little scream of victory. "Yes, yes! I'd love to!" she shouted. "I want her name to be Daenys. It's almost the same as mine! That means she'll be different from me, but she'll also be mine."
Rhaenyra admired her daughter's logical yet childish way of thinking. "You'll be a wonderful big sister, Daena," she said tenderly, her hands running through her daughter's hair. Daena's hair was another subject of admiration for her. While her brothers Lucerys and Jacaerys had completely black hair, Daena's was a masterpiece with silver strands dancing in the black. And that single, bright wisp of Targaryen yellow… to Rhaenyra, it was a symbol of her daughter's unique heritage.
“But,” Daena said, suddenly serious, her brows turning into a thoughtful expression. "If it's a boy, I still want to name him."
"Really?" There was a secret curiosity in Rhaenyra's voice. "So, what do you have in mind, my beautiful girl?"
"Aemon," Daena said confidently. "It's not compatible with my name, but it's still a beautiful name. It seems like a strong and noble name to me. Besides, we'd be honoring my grand-grandfather's name, wouldn't we?"
Rhaenyra was surprised that her daughter made such a mature suggestion beyond her age. A caring smile spread across her lips. "Aemon is truly a beautiful name. Your choice is noble," she said, shaking her head slightly.
Meanwhile, the door slowly opened and one of the maids entered, embarrassed to have to interrupt this special moment between the princess and her daughter. "Princess, your lesson will start soon. We need to go," she said, bowing her head slightly.
Daena's facial expression changed suddenly. Her previous joy had given way to distress. “Mom,” she began, pursing her lips and putting a playful pleading tone into her voice. "I don't want to go. Can I skip classes for today, please?"
Rhaenyra was used to her daughter's dramatic behavior. But she still spoke gently and firmly. "You promised me that you would never neglect your studies, Daena. Do you remember?"
Daena thought for a moment and then frowned, "But if I leave, that stupid Aegon and Jace will make fun of me again!" she burst out. In addition to anger, a tear appeared in her eyes. "Only because I don't have a dragon! I don't have a dragon and they're throwing it in my face!"
Rhaenyra's heart sank. She knew how deeply her daughter felt the burden of not having dragons, which was the Targaryen inheritance. But she still spoke in a soft and supportive tone in response to her anger. "The next time Syrax lays an egg, you will be able to choose your own egg. It is your right and no one can interfere with that. I promise you."
However, these words did not satisfy Daena. "I don't want any eggs," she grumbled peevishly. "I want a dragon. Just like Dreamfyre! A big and powerful dragon!"
The little girl jumped up from the chair she was sitting next to her mother and headed towards the door with angry steps. Her small shoulders rose and fell angrily.
Rhaenyra let out a long sigh after her daughter. She knew that Daena's anger wasn't just about not having a dragon. Her siblings' mockery hurt the young girl's pride and damaged her self-confidence. But this stubbornness… this tough personality… Rhaenyra paused for a moment and muttered to herself with a genuine smile, "I don't know whom she got this stubbornness from.."
Then, as she ran her hands over her growing belly, her thoughts turned back to her unborn baby. "I hope you won't be as stubborn as your sister, little thing," she said fondly.
Her fourth pregnancy was more difficult than her previous three. Fatigue took over her body, but despite this, she couldn't wait to hold her little baby in her arms. There was hope in her heart. Just like Daena said, a cute baby girl never hurts. But it didn't matter if he was a boy. The important thing was that they would bring new light to her family.
Rhaenyra fell into daydreaming while caressing her belly. Maybe this could be an opportunity for the baby family to come together. Maybe their children would finally be proud of each other instead of competing with humans. Time would tell.
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First of all, this fiction was created with components from both the book and the series. I am neither green nor black. I prefer to love the characters individually instead of keeping a team. I hope you like my fiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to point out my mistakes and ask anything you want.
Daena Velaryon is the second child and first daughter of Rhaenyra and Leanor. So she's only a year younger than Jace. Of course, just like her siblings, she grew up with questions about her 'true blood' for years. And like Aemond, she had no dragon, so she also became an object of ridicule.
That's it for now and I can assure you that Daena will not be riding Cannibal. You're welcome 😽
I also publish my fiction on Wattpad! You can also reach me there with the same name!
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ladydreamfyyreee · 7 months ago
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𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧?
𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 :
• 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
• 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫
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drgnmnts · 6 months ago
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knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC
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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 5 - A Final Tribute
Word count: 4.6k
The journey to King’s Landing had been pleasant enough regardless of Daenys’ nervousness in the days leading up to their arrival. As the carriage she shared with Jace, Luke, and Joffrey crossed the King’s Gate, the sight of the towering castle made her chest feel tight; despite how much she had missed the place initially all those years ago, the truth was that the Red Keep did not feel like her home anymore. 
And yet, there was a part of her that couldn’t wait to see her mother’s face, to hear her brothers' voices, and hug Helaena and the children. Daenys had been thinking about it the entire journey, imagining different things she could say or do to be the conciliator and make the days they were to spend there as peaceful as possible. 
However, her hopes quickly faltered when the only person to greet them upon their arrival was Lord Casswell. Jace held her hand reassuringly, in an attempt to convince her that perhaps they were simply caught up in preparations. But Daenys knew better. She was no fool, nor a child anymore. Rhaenyra’s family wasn’t welcome in the Red Keep— and neither was she.
As Rhaenyra and Daemon made their way inside to see King Viserys and introduce him to their children, Daenys followed Jace and Luke to the courtyard, a feeling of uneasiness set in her stomach. 
“Ah, see? I told you it would still be here after all these years,” Jace said to Luke, pointing at an indentation in the stone, a story that Daenys knew nothing of but made Luke smile at the memory. 
Before she could even ask what that was all about, the sound of clashing swords made the three of them turn their heads and approach the noise.
The tall, slender man sparring with a member of the Kingsguard Daenys recognized right away. As soon as their eyes met among the crowd surrounding the sword training, Aemond put down his sword.
“Sister,” he said, loud enough for everyone to turn towards Daenys, their stares making her feel scrutinized. She noticed Jace tense up next to her.
“Aemond,” she greeted in kind, an unsure smile on her lips. As the crowd scattered, Aemond took a few steps towards them. Once in front of Daenys, he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles solemnly. 
“It brings me joy to see you again after all these years,” he said, and Daenys believed him.
Before she could say something in return, Aemond dropped her hand and turned towards Jace and Luke.
“Nephews,” he spoke to them then, “have you come to train?”
Jace’s face was anything but a pleased one, however he managed to offer Aemond his politest smile.
“My brother and I are mere spectators, but we appreciate your invitation,” he replied, ever so civil.
“We have only just arrived, brother,” added Daenys in an attempt to ease the tension. “Perhaps a meal and a conversation?”
“Hm, I’m not the kind to dine and converse, I’m afraid,” he replied, eyes lingering a bit too long on Jace, as if silently challenging him, before returning his attention to his sister, “but I do expect to see you tomorrow at court for the petitions—”
From the open doors leading to the inside of the castle, Ser Criston unknowingly interrupted Aemond.
“Princess Daenys,” he called ceremoniously, “His Grace the King wishes to see you. And Prince Jacaerys.”
__________________________
The King’s chamber was dark and lugubrious, and it engulfed them in the sweet scent of incense and something else Daenys couldn’t quite identify. Hand in hand, the couple approached the royal bed, and the sight of her father made Daenys’ breath hitch; King Viserys had lost most of his hair and half his weight, his skin had taken on a pallor that attested his sickly state and, despite being covered by pristine bandages that had been very recently changed, his face resembled the very image of the Stranger. His moans of pain and ragged breaths were the only proof that there was still some life left inside him and, despite everything, it made Daenys want to cry.
“Father?” she called as the pair stood by his bedside, still holding hands, none of them brave enough to touch the man. Her voice came out more like a whisper, and she tried once more, a bit louder. “Father.”
When the man spoke, he sounded tired and in pain.
“Rhaenyra…”
The confusion was nothing new to Daenys, and she was kind in her correction.
“No, Father, it’s Daenys. I’m here with Jace,” she explained, “Ser Criston said you wished to see us.”
“Daenys… Jacaerys…” Viserys said, reaching out to touch them. Jace held his hand. 
“We’re both glad to see you again, Grandsire,” he said, his voice loaded with fondness. If there was someone in the world who had always defended Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, apart from their mother, it was King Viserys.
The man smiled.
“Good children… you’re all grown now…” he said.
“Ten-and-seven, my King,” Daenys said.
“The betrothal… is it a happy one?” he asked then, perhaps in hopes that at least one of his decisions regarding his family had been the right one.
“Very happy, Grandsire,” answered Jace, smiling sweetly at Daenys, “Princess Daenys and I are… very fond of each other.”
King Viserys sighed with contempt.
“Good… good. In that case, I see no reason for the wedding to be postponed any longer.”
After sharing a look with Daenys, Jace spoke again.
“Queen Alicent thinks it’s best to wait until we’ve both turned eighteen,” he informed the king.
“Nonsense,” Viserys declared and, to Daenys’ surprise, his voice sounded steady. “I wish to see my daughter and grandson marry… it shall happen within the fortnight.”
The pair looked at each other again, hearts beating a little bit faster than before.
“Are you sure, Father?” Daenys asked, unsure of how much she could trust the king’s words in his state. Viserys nodded slightly.
“Otto and Alicent are in charge of the matters of the realm… but I am still the head of this family… your betrothal was made to unite us all again… and so it will be…”
As if able to sense that their king was in pain, two maesters Daenys had never seen before entered the room, ready to ease his discomfort and give him as much relief as possible given his circumstances. Feeling like an obstacle in the midst of the maesters’ work, Jace and Daenys decided to leave.
__________________________
Later that day, Daenys was summoned to the small council room by her mother and the Hand. As a child, she hadn’t been allowed in that room, which had led her to imagine it as far more majestic than it actually was: just a long table surrounded by fancy chairs and presided by a small wooden throne. That very head of the table, where Viserys would sit in the past, was now taken by Queen Alicent, ruling in her husband’s stead with the help of her father, the Hand.
After an awkward hug from her mother and a caress to the cheek from her grandsire that felt way too foreign, Daenys took a seat. 
“I hear you’ve been faring well at Dragonstone,” Otto said. Daenys nodded.  “It gladdens me, and the Queen.”
Alicent smiled softly. “I still remember how much you cried when we told you you had to go with them. You made quite a fuss,” she said to Daenys. Regardless of her smile, the queen’s eyes were no mystery to her daughter, and Daenys knew there was something going on.
“Well, yes, because I didn’t want to go. I didn’t know them… I was scared,” Daenys defended herself, because despite how much she loved them all now, she still remembered how abandoned and frightened she had felt back then.
“And yet I take it you’re quite happy now, are you not?” asked Ser Otto.
It bothered Daenys to admit to him that he was right, but she would not deny her happiness.
“Yes, I am.”
“Good,” he said.
“And your betrothed?” asked Alicent. The woman put her arms on the table and Daenys thought her mother was going to reach out for her hand, but instead she laced her own hands in front of her, as if their conversation was just another council meeting and she was not a mother, but a queen. “Is he kind?”
At the mention of Jace, Daenys smiled instantly.
“He is. Jace is gentle, and… loyal. Very intelligent. He will be a fine king one day,” she said.
Something in Ser Otto’s face didn’t sit right with Daenys, but it was such a fleeting gesture that she wasn’t able to fully discern what it could mean.
“I assume you have bled already,” he said, and the change of topic for one so intimate made Daeny’s face heat up in embarrassment. She looked at her mother, who encouraged her to answer the Hand.
“Yes, two years ago. Our maester says I’m perfectly healthy.”
Ser Otto nodded, pleased with the information. Then, he spoke again.
“I know my question will make you uncomfortable, but I must ask, and you must tell me the truth. Has Prince Jacaerys touched you?”
Daenys was left aghast by her grandsire’s question. She crossed her arms over her chest as she snorted indignantly, her cheeks turning cherry red. 
“What kind of question is that?” she inquired. 
“Just answer him, Daenys,” commanded Alicent, and whether she also wanted to hear her answer or not, Daenys didn’t know.
Reluctantly, Daenys did as she was told. “No, Prince Jacaerys has not touched me. He hasn’t done or said anything inappropriate to me, ever. He is honorable, more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Ser Otto held his granddaughter’s gaze, only to nod once more at her answer. Daenys knew he believed her, but that didn’t bring her any solace.
“Let us hope he keeps his honor, until the time is right,” he said. Daenys had to make use of all her willpower to not scoff.
“Speaking of time,” she said then, and the two adults turned their heads towards her. “My Father, the King, has expressed his desire for Jace and I to marry within the fortnight. He says there is no reason for us to wait, and we agree.”
“Of course you do,” muttered Ser Otto.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Daenys questioned, anger making her forget about her manners and the rules of the court, and Alicent was quick to appease her daughter’s outrage by grabbing her arm. 
“What the Hand meant to say,” the woman began, giving her father a pointed look, “is that it is only natural for the two of you to want to rush things, but there is no need—”
“‘Rush things’?” Daenys asked, sounding incredulous. “Mother, we’ve been betrothed for six years. Aegon and Helaena have two children already, and Jacaerys is the crown prince.”
Ser Otto shifted in his seat, but Daenys didn’t notice.
“Yes, he is,” said Alicent, thin-lipped. “And what your sister has, that will come to you as well… when the time is right.”
“But my Father—”
“The King says many things,” intervened Otto. “He barely discerns reality from illusion. One must not take his words to heart, as it is difficult to know whether he means it or not.”
With that, the conversation was finished.
________________________
Daemon had sliced Vaemond Velaryon’s head in half. 
It had been a tumultuous hearing, one that had brought tears to Daenys’ eyes at the way the man spoke about Rhaenyra and her children, but Daemon had put an end to it the only way he knew how to handle things: with violence. 
At least the debate was over: Lucerys Velaryon would inherit the Driftwood Throne, as declared by King Viserys himself with the support of Princess Rhaenys.
Daenys didn’t know whose idea it had been, but the whole family was gathered at the dining hall, ready for supper. She was sitting between Jace and Aegon, who had been drunk all day and had only shown his face to greet his sister a mere couple hours before dinner. Aegon’s attitude saddened Daenys, especially because Helaena didn’t deserve a husband who spent his days in his cups, or asleep, or doing gods know what. 
“You look very beautiful,” Jace whispered in her ear, interrupting her thoughts. Daenys smiled from ear to ear. They hadn’t been able to see each other again after their conversation with the king, at least not alone. After the events with Vaemond Velaryon, Daenys had spent the rest of the afternoon with Helaena and the children, who were just as lovely as Daenys had imagined.
“Likewise,” she replied, briefly stroking his cheek. Unbeknownst to Daenys, Aemond was watching her and Jace very carefully, and so was Ser Otto. 
They all rose when King Viserys made his way into the hall, carried by his most trusted guards. Once he was settled between Alicent and Rhaenyra, everyone sat down again. 
“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems…” he began, out of breath. “As I’ve… recently decided, my daughter Daenys will marry my grandson Jacaerys… before the next moon.”
Daenys and Jace shared a look as they smiled with relief: now that it had been said in public, there was no way someone could try to diminish the King’s words. As Viserys continued speaking, Daenys raised her brows at Ser Otto, as if saying: See? I told you.
“Hear, hear!” cheered Daemon, raising his cup to them.
“Moreover,” the King continued, “as agreed by Princess Rhaenyra and Princess Rhaenys… my grandson Lucerys shall marry his cousin, Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses.”
Daenys smiled with excitement as she reached over Jace to give Rhaena’s hand a squeeze. She was aware that weddings weren’t always joyful, but knowing Luke and Rhaena, Daenys was certain that the pair was as thrilled as her and Jace.
Overcome by the bravery that happiness can bring to a person, Daenys decided to stand, chalice in hand. 
“If it pleases my King, I would like to propose a toast. To Prince Lucerys,” she said, giving her soon-to-be brother by law a complicit look, “I’ve had the privilege to watch you grow into the young man you are today, and you’re as dear to my heart as any of my brothers. I wish you and your betrothed all the best in the world. To the future Lord of the Tides.”
After they all had drank from their cups and Luke had expressed his thankfulness, Daenys sat down again. Jace kissed her cheek as Rhaenyra smiled at her with gratitude for her gesture: Daenys had kept her promise, and the crown princess would not forget it.
 “I see congratulations are in order,” said Aegon, low enough so that the rest could not to hear him, only Daenys. His breath smelled of Dornish strongwine. “I do have to say, sister, I’m afraid you’re about to be terribly disappointed. But I am feeling kind today. So, if you ever need me to demonstrate to your betrothed how to please a woman, other than just put a dark haired babe in you and call it a day, all you have to do is ask.”
Daenys silently prayed to the gods that Aegon was too drunk to notice the red of her cheeks. His comment wasn’t just inappropriate, it was venomous.
“Perhaps you might want to focus your kindness on your wife, dear brother,” she replied, her lips a thin line.
“Is everything alright?” Jace asked in a whisper.
Aegon gave Jace a look and opened his mouth as if to say something to him, but Daenys pressed her fist against her brother’s thigh, her rings digging into his skin through his trousers, and Aegon fell silent.
“Yes,” Daenys said softly, smiling sweetly at her betrothed, her back turned to her brother. “Aegon is an idiot, that’s all.”
Princess Rhaenyra stood up now, raising her cup for Queen Alicent. Her words were sincere, and Daenys could tell her mother was trying hard to keep hold in her emotions.
“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess,” the Queen said. “We’re both mothers. And we love our children. You have raised my daughter admirably, and for that I am thankful. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”
The appreciation for Rhaenyra’s role in raising Daenys did not go unnoticed to her, and Daenys wondered how different she would be if she had spent the last six years at the Red Keep, with her mother.
Daenys didn’t notice Aegon walking behind her and reaching for a decanter near Jace, but she did hear what he said to him.
“You do know how the act is done, right? Where to put your cock and all that.”
“Aegon, stop it—,” she started, but was interrupted by Jace’s fists banging the table in anger. When he stood, Daenys looked at him with pleading eyes. Please, don’t ruin this.
But Jace wasn’t like that. He wasn’t vicious like Aegon, nor violent like Aemond, who was already standing, ready to jump at any sudden movement from his nephew.
“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond,” he started, and Daenys sighed in relief. “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends. I understand your worries, as brothers, about your little sister getting married soon, but I’ve been preparing to be the kind of husband she deserves since I can remember. You have nothing to worry about,” he said, his eyes burning holes through Aegon’s skull in spite of his friendly smile. “To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.”
Daenys put her cup to her lips to hide her grin.
That seemed to be the end of all the bickering, as the dinner progressed without further incidents. They were about to finish their first course when Daenys decided to have a conversation, or at least try, since he had not opened his mouth all evening.
After excusing herself, she stood and walked up to where her brother was, with the excuse of serving herself some more wine. The band was playing a cheerful tune, and the atmosphere in the dining hall was welcoming and warm.
“Have you seen the trees behind Evenfall Hall in Tarth? They’re starting to flower. I flew over the island a moon ago and it’s a beautiful sight—”
“What are you doing?” Aemond asked, eye fixed on Daenys, his brow slightly furrowed.
Daenys was taken aback by his reaction.
“What do you mean? I’m trying to speak with you.”
“So first you switch sides and now you wish to sweet talk to me about flowering trees—”
“Switch sides? They are my family, Aemond, just as they are yours despite how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.”
Aemond smiled, but there was no sign of amusement on his face.
“They’re not my family, they’re b—”
Daenys’ face hardened. She put the decanter back on the table with a loud thud, the impact causing the table to shudder slightly, and everyone turned to look at them.
Aemond quickly grabbed her wrist before she could go back to her seat, and Jace stood up. The music stopped, and the sudden silence made Daenys’ ears ring.
“I will not apologize,” Aemond said, speaking only to Daenys, as if he didn’t care about everyone staring at them. In his one remaining eye, Daenys saw the little boy from their past, the one who had once been the most important person in the world to her. She felt like she could cry.
Aemond’s thumb rubbed softly against the skin of her wrist, right above her pulse.
“Then I’m afraid you’ve lost me forever, brother,” she said, and this time Aemond did let go of his sister.
Daenys walked back to Jace, who put his arms around her in a protective way.
“Can we leave?” she asked him.
Perhaps it had been the way Daenys had searched for refuge in Jace’s arms, or the way he had shot daggers at Aemond with his eyes, or something else entirely, but the One-Eyed Prince stood up then, raising his cup.
“A final tribute before you leave, then,” he said. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” his eye was fixed on Daenys, and he only looked away when he spoke again, “strong.”
“Aemond,” Alicent warned, knowing all too well where the situation was going.
“Come,” he continued, “let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”
“I dare you to say that again,” said Jace, his voice threatening, positioning himself in front of Daenys.
“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. My sister speaks wonders of you boys, and yet when I try to be polite like she wants me to be, I seem to offend you. Do you not think yourself strong?”
Jace’s fist landed on Aemond’s face with a loud crack, the sound of bone meeting flesh echoing through the room. From that moment on, everything happened too quickly:
Daenys went with Helaena, who was covering her ears, overwhelmed by the situation, and hugged her sister. As Aegon pushed Luke’s face against the table, two guards held Jace away from Aemond. Alicent tried to reprimand him, but Aemond freed himself with ease from his mother’s grasp, and only shut his mouth when Daemon put himself between him and Jace. 
“Go to your quarters. All of you, now,” ordered Rhaenyra. Rhaena and Luke, as well as Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena, left the hall. Daemon was speaking with Jace, trying to calm him down, and Daenys found solace in Rhaenyra’s arms.
“Rhaenyra,” called Alicent as she approached the two, and Daenys could’ve sworn it pained her mother to see that she was looking for consolation in Rhaenyra’s embrace, and not hers. “I apologize for this ugly ending to such a lovely evening.”
Rhaenyra nodded and gave her a closed-mouth smile. “These things happen, I suppose.”
Alicent put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “I was thinking… well, before all of this happened, anyway, that perhaps you would like to stay here until the wedding. It would be good to have everything prepared to your liking, and I’m sure Jahaerys and Jahaera would love to have you around a bit longer. And I as well.”
The idea of tending to her wedding preparations with her mother and sister by her side sounded like a dream come true to Daenys. With a small smile on her lips, she looked at Rhaenyra.
“If Princess Rhaenyra is fine with it, I… I would like that very much,” she said.
Rhaenyra smiled back, and left a motherly kiss on her forehead. “Of course,” she said. 
“But…” Daenys added, “I would also like you to be here, as well.”
Rhaenyra shared a look with Alicent, not knowing exactly what to say to Daenys’ proposal. Alicent smiled kindly.
“The King and I would like that very much,” she said.
“Very well, then,” said Rhaenyra. “Let me see the children home, and I’ll return on dragonback.”
Daenys’ troubles dissipated with the idea of spending such special moments with the most important women in her life, but her smile faded when she turned and saw that Jace wasn’t there anymore. 
Daemon said she would find him in his quarters, where he was indeed already packing up to leave.
Daenys approached him and grabbed his arm with both her hands to make him stop, and he did, but his eyes were still fixed on the trunk that contained his personal belongings. Daenys put her chin on his shoulder and, when she spoke, she did it softly.
“We’ve decided it’ll be good if I stay here until the wedding,” she said.
To this, Jace took a step back, meeting her gaze with eyes wide open.
“No!” he exclaimed, “Absolutely not. There is no way you’re staying here without me.”
“Jace,” she tried, gathering all the patience and good temper she possessed. “I will be fine, your mother will be here. I think I need this last moment with them, to— to put things right and make amends.”
Jace scoffed and turned towards the bay window, which looked out onto Aegon’s Hill. “I truly cannot believe you’re that blind,” he said.
His tone caught Daenys off guard; he had never spoken to her that way. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“Can you not see what he’s doing?” he asked her now, pointing at nowhere in particular. “What happened tonight, do you think he was just trying to irritate me?”
“Who?” Daenys asked, extremely confused.
“Aemond!”
“What about him?”
“He is in love with you!” he yelled, exasperated.
Daenys blinked in confusion. “What— that’s stupid, Jace.”
“Is it?” he asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Shaking her head, Daenys crossed her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t know that. I mean, you don’t know Aemond, you wouldn’t know.”
“Believe me, I know what loving you looks like.”
Daenys’ frown immediately softened, and she bit her lip to hide her smile, but she failed terribly.
“Why are you smiling?” asked Jace, and his previous anger seemed to have disappeared already.
“What you just said… it was very sweet.”
Jace breathed through his nose and, although his face was still a serious one, he closed the distance between them and put his hands on Daenys’ waist, who immediately placed her hands on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said, and the true regret in his voice warmed Daenys’ heart. “And I’m sorry everything got out of hand.”
“It’s already forgotten,” she assured him, her forehead against his. “But I do need you to understand something. You and I are going to be married in less than fifteen days,” she began, and the thought made both of them smile. “And it’s not like things are going to change much between us because the truth is that I’m already yours, Jace. No matter what happens, or who tries to get in between… it’ll be to no avail.”
Jace’s eyes were glued to her lips, and it took all of his willpower not to kiss her right there and then. He knew that, of all places, the Red Keep was the least appropriate to share that kind of intimacy before the wedding.
“What about Aemond?” he asked.
“Aemond is confused. He wants everything that isn’t his, that’s how it’s always been. You mustn’t worry, I promise.”
Jace sighed. “I will anyway, but I trust you.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and gave him a soft peck on the lips.
“Princess Daenys, where is your decorum?” he quipped, and Daenys let out an honest laugh.
“I will see you in a fortnight, then,” she said, hands in his curls as if she was afraid of never touching them again.
“A fortnight,” he confirmed, stealing another innocent kiss.
“Miss me terribly, will you?” she asked, letting go of him and walking backwards towards the door. 
“I will try,” he joked, although both knew they would in fact miss each other terribly and be miserable about it.
Rhaenyra and Daemon’s family left that very evening, with only Daenys and Alicent seeing them off at the King’s Gate. 
Later that night, King Viserys died in his bed.
__________________________________
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damn-stark · 2 months ago
Text
Chapter 31 In that big ol’ room
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Chapter 31 of Moonlight
A/N- we’re close to the end :(
Warning- talks of postpartum depression, ANGST, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.
Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader
Episode/Pages- 535-539
(If you want to be tagged let me know)
————
The memory of her death, even though it was recent and still a raw one in your mind, can’t stop playing in your head over and over again.
Like a veil it obscures your vision, not letting you take a good look at the newborn babies you just gave birth to, and here's the thing, as bad as it sounds you don’t care to look at them. Even if you cradle them both in your arms you can’t find that joy or relief to look at their red little faces and wait for their eyes to open to tell you who their father might be.
You keep the veil over your face like a badge of honor to remind yourself why you wear it. You don’t want to forget even if it's impossible to do so. Does it make you a terrible mother?
All you wanted to be as a mother was to be the mother yours was to you. You want to nuzzle with all three of your babies now that you’re together. You want to love them and let go of your pain, but…then Daenys begins to cry a shrieking cry and it takes you back to that moment where your mother shrieked before she burnt, and you’re bombarded with frustration.
“Take them,” you demand and turn to the edge of the bed to let a handmaiden take them from your arms so they can shush the shrieking babe.
However, she only cries louder and your frustration starts to torture you by bringing rage along.
You try to shake it off, but as you close your eyes the memory of your mother burning plays vividly so you quickly snap your eyes open and simply sit there ruminating in your anger and frustration, hoping it’ll fade into something you can manage, but alas, that veil only gets thicker to the point you can’t see what’s in front of you. All that exists is your anger and…a desire—no, an obligation to kill Aegon for what he did. It doesn’t matter if they end up killing you in the process.
You don’t care as long as he’s dead too.
He has to die…
Thus in a blinded rage, you swipe the scissors that the handmaidens used to cut the twin’s umbilical cord and then drag yourself off the bed, catching the immediate attention of all the handmaidens.
“Princess what are you doing?! You should not be moving!” Vanessa warns you and rushes to your side to attempt and move you back to bed, but you put your hand up to stop her.
“Leave me,” you snap without meeting her gaze. “I am going to try and call to my dragon,” you lie and push yourself off the bed, causing your bloody and soaked gown to fall over your body, and feeling sharp pains shooting throughout your body, threatening to keep you down, but you just clutch onto your belly and swallow back your pained groan before you start to drag your feet without bothering to put anything on your feet.
You just start walking, making the poor handmaidens' hearts hurt with pity and concern.
“Don’t dare and follow me,” you warn them as you keep the scissors hidden in your sleeve so they won’t stop you.
“But—”
“No,” you cut them off and leave out the door where guards are there to greet you. “If you follow me I won’t need my dragon to kill you. I’ll do it myself,” you warn them bitterly.
However, unlike the handmaidens, they move to trail after you, making you bring yourself to a stop and peer over your shoulder with a glare. “I said. Stay,” you grimace. “Guard the twins. They are more important. What threat can I be anyway?” You try to deceive them, and after a moment of debate, they step back to their previous position, letting you continue to trudge forward.
However, every step you take is a cruel reminder of what you just went through. And with every step you want to stop and take a break, but you keep moving your bare feet and exhausted body forward because what is your pain compared to the pain your mother went through every single second before she was ripped apart?
Nothing…that’s what. Nothing compares to the suffering she went through. It's why you keep moving forward. It’s why you clench your jaw as you grow angrier, and it’s why you clutch onto the scissors you keep hidden. Even though you have no idea where Aegon is, you keep moving—then again is it really hard to find him as he’s bound to that wooden chair?
Not likely. He can only be in so many places. Is it the throne room? The master quarters? Or the meeting room?
You’ll go search in all of them if you have to. Even if you’re writhing in agony you will find him. After all, what does he know of Dragonstone? He’s never called it home like you have. This is your home! Yours! Your mothers, your brothers, your cousins, and your children’s home! Not his! So you will find Aegon.
Aegon.
Aegon.
Aegon.
Aegon…
After a while of stalking through those corridors like a vengeful ghost terrorizing the castle, you finally catch the sound of his voice coming from the meeting room. He’s not alone either, you can hear Ser Alfred and Lord Larys with him too, but it’s okay you can wait and if they don't leave his side then you’ll still ram your scissors through Aegon’s throat.
You wait first though. Just for a while.
“…killing Lord Corlys Velaryon would not be a wise action. Even if Ser Alfred has a point about having Rhaenyra's allies suffer consequences, he still has the greatest fleet and a bastard boy who will never ally with us.”
Aegon hums before he interjects. “Then…we make him bend the knee and ask for forgiveness. He did turn against Rhaenyra when she imprisoned him, besides…his counsel would be welcome.”
The corner of your lips curl to a scowl and your grip around the scissors only tightens more.
“If he doesn’t comply we have his granddaughters in our grasp. We will just threaten one of their lives until he bends the knee,” he shares without an ounce of hesitation. His words just roll off of his tongue.
“That will surely work, but I’m certain we won’t have to take those measures,” Lord Larys says before Ser Alfred cuts in.
“That is if he doesn’t call to his other granddaughter, Lady Rhaena, and her wild dragon. With Astraea still alive, they could use Lord Stark’s new host and Lady Arryn’s host to turn against us. And we don’t have the numbers to compete.”
Aegon scoffs with displeasure and Ser Alfred continues with a bit of hesitation.
“That is why I suggest we kill Rhaenyra’s son Aegon…”
Your pinched eyebrows falter as the rage contorting your face turns to disbelief for a second.
“…That way they don’t have an heir to use against us. With Prince Aemond’s son you don’t need Aegon as heir, nor will your niece be a threat with her now betrothed to Lord Stark. Killing Aegon will discourage the forces, it will show them that we still have power and that we are not to be trifled with.”
No. No. No…
Aegon can’t die too. Your mother would have fought to the death to keep him alive; her last living son.
Plus, he is your brother. Even if you weren’t raised together and he’s more like a stranger to you, he’s still the last living brother you have so he can’t die. You can’t let him die, and…you…won’t. Even if it means swallowing your anger and your pride you will keep him alive.
Thus after a deep shuddering breath, you drop the scissors meant to kill Aegon, making a loud clattering sound the moment the metal hits the floor. After that, you draw out another trembling breath before you slowly step out of hiding and come across guards on their way to investigate the noise.
“I have come to see the King,” you mutter in defeat and ignore the way they look at you with disgust as you’re still wearing your birthing gown and have not cleaned any of your sweat, tears, or blood.
“This…way,” one guard points to the hall as he steps aside, letting you push your chin up and continue to trudge forward.
Once you’re in the sights of all three men you bring yourself to a halt and force yourself to drag your eyes toward Aegon, even if it brings you more pain than when you were walking where you are.
“Princess,” Ser Alfred gasps.
“Bring—”
“No,” you cut Lord Larys off and hold your belly. “I come to say one thing.”
You draw in a deep breath as you hesitate to form your next words.
You will say what you came here to say, there’s no doubt about it. But even if it hurts to admit it, having to sacrifice your own dreams to save your brother wounds you deeply because it’s Aegon; the man who killed your mother, the man who you always hated, and the man who has always been so perverted and gross. Furthermore, after having immunity by being betrothed to Cregan, Aegon is taking that away too.
“I,” you breathe out and break your silence, but don’t continue right away. First, you fall to your knees with a pained groan and then, continue with your head hanging. “…Will marry you.”
You miss the looks that are shared and fail to look strong and nonchalant. Your voice and your face both expose your weakness as those words pierce your soul.
“Just please,” you beg in a quivering voice. “Don't kill my brother. He-he can go to the wall the moment he turns of age. Just please, please don’t kill him,” you plead in the same desperation you used to plead for your mother's life.
“He’s all I have left of my family,” you whisper. “Please, Aegon. He doesn’t even have to be raised in the Red Keep, you can send him to be someone’s ward. Just please…don’t kill him.”
You can hear shifting and wood creaking before Aegon’s voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and a twinge of anger sparks back where it had been burning before.
“Look at me,” he says smugly because he has control over you like never before. And even if you don’t want to meet his gaze. Even if the thought disgusts and angers you, you slowly pull your head up and meet his gaze with a hardened look.
“I accept your proposal. It’s a relief you came to your senses, my sweet niece. Just tell me you renounce your betrothed Lord Stark and you are mine.”
You swallow back thickly and feel your lips twitch down before you open your mouth and respond with dread. “I do. I renounce my betrothed Lord Cregan Stark.”
——
*SOMETIME LATER*
“Were my letters sent?”
“Yes,” Vanessa gives your question a response before leaving you in your solitude once again.
“<I love you.>”.
Tears slipped past her eyes…small beads of salt and sorrow littered water rolled down her face the same way they involuntarily run down your cheeks right now. You remember.
Having memories is a blessing. The way one's mind can recall things that happened in the past is truly fascinating, but right now, like every other second since your mother died, your mind and your memories are cruel. They bring such a visceral physical aching pain that can’t be tamed, it's so deafening and it makes you grow overwhelmed fast. It doesn't even let you find solace in the sun's touch because you refuse to welcome its cold embrace.
Usually admiring the sea is a quick calming effect too, but even though you’re surrounded by it as you remain in Dragonstone, you refuse to look at it; almost as if it is guilty of causing your pain.
Lastly, being with Aerion is a great way to bring a smile to your face and relax your current aching heart, but you can’t be your children’s mother right now. You tried, you really have tried, but that connection feels like it’s blocked by the entity that is your rage, grief, and sorrow. It feels like you can’t love them until you take care of that which brought you pain and took everything away from you. Is it cruel?
Maybe, but you did make it your task to at least study your twins to know how they look, and you can say that Daenys has the same blond-silver hair and blue eyes Aemond had. It’s too soon to tell but you have a feeling she’s going to look like him too. As for Daenerys, she’s smaller just like she was in the womb; she’s a lot slimmer than her sister too, and her eyes are…grey, but Vanessa says that she’s far too young to really know if that’s the eye color she’ll have forever. They might change colors as she grows older, so the jury is still out on who her father might be, more so because her hair color is white-silver just like yours, which, that in itself is good. It’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.
So now all that you’re pestered with is that you can’t be the mother that your children so desperately need. With Aerion grown so attached to your mother, he’s missing her terribly. He won’t stop calling out for her, and it hurts because you’re here but you can’t make yourself comfort him, and it’s not because you don’t want to, you do, but…there’s just so much pain that you can't scrape up an ounce of any other emotion besides anger. Loud, throbbing, and agonizing anger that makes you scream out to the ground as you fold over the edge of the bed.
Does that ease everything that torments you? No, but it lets you stand up and walk out of your chambers—at least Aegon lets you have free reign of the castle since you are his betrothed and because he knows you won’t risk your brother's life since he holds it in the palm of his hand.
Alas, when you step out and try to walk to the library or anywhere you can spend your time where Aegon won’t be, you’re reminded of your mother. The memory of her haunts every hall and every corridor, so you can either return to your quarters or go…visit Baela. You haven’t gone to see her or attempted to free her from her imprisonment because once again it’s your emotions that keep you away, they’ve kept you captive and isolated in your lonesome to let you simmer in your rage-born hatred.
However, you have nothing to do now and Baela has no clue what happened—and how can you let her continue with her days thinking of a life that no longer exists? And if you can’t muster an ounce of warmth then she at least deserves to know the truth. Thus after some hesitation, you make your way to the cells at the lowest part of the castle, but linger in the shadows for a moment and debate returning to the isolation of your chambers as you imagine how the interaction could play out.
She could hate you and she could also blame you for your mother's death, but if she doesn’t know she wouldn’t have the ability to do any of those things.
Yet she needs to know, so after a deep breath you slowly walk out of the shadows and make your way to the only occupied cell. Right away Baela spots the shadow that casts on the cell floor and lets her curiosity get answered by looking over and seeing you standing at the other side of those bars.
“Baela,” you greet her with a whisper and she takes a few more hard blinks before she shoves herself to her feet and rushes to the bars, letting you notice that she looks slimmer than the last time you saw her, and she has burn scars on one part of her face. She also has short hair now too so she sports a cute afro.
“The twins,” she says after she uttered your name with a surprised gasp. “They’re born?”
You offer her the ghost of a smile and nod. “Yes, girls, Daenys and Daenerys.”
Baela sighs with relief and offers you a sweet and happy smile that you can’t mirror. She’s quick to notice it; along with your drooped eyes and falling lips. Yet before she can interject you beat her to speaking.
“Aegon told me about what happened. I’m sorry about Moondancer,” you offer her your condolences and linger where you are for a second before you step forward and gently wrap your hands around hers.
“She went out fighting,” her voice quivers, and her eyes water. “And she might have not killed Sunfyre but…”
“He can't fly because of Moondancer, he’s rotting away in the courtyard,” you cut her off to offer her some hope before the dread is revealed.
“Sunfyre is dying?” Baela queries with a twitch of her lips.
“He is.” You nod. “No doubt about it. He should die any day now.”
Baela musters a faint smirk before lifting her chin and slowly looking at you in confusion. “What are you doing here without chains? Is Astraea okay?”
You nod lightly. “She suffered some injuries at the Second Battle at Tumbleton, but she will be fine. She’s just off the Island for now.”
Baela scoffs and passes you an amused look. “Why? Are you two upset with each other?”
You swallow back thickly and let the silence build up as you admire the way she manages to smile in such gloomy times and in such a dark space.
“No,” you mumble after a moment of admiration and drop your head to let out a heavy sigh whilst your grip unknowingly tightens around her hands. “Baela listen to me…I’m here because I was hurt in the battle at Tumbleton. Astraea brought me here and Aegon and his party were able to hold me captive,” you pause and she tries to slip her grasp from under your hold, but you refuse to let go.
“Okay,” Baela whispers.
“In my captivity, I attempted to escape to find my mother, and I did find her, but,” you swallow back the lump that was quick to form in your throat. “She was already here. I couldn’t even sail past the island,” you mutter and find it hard to look up at Baela even though you’re curious about her current reaction.
“I tried to save her. I swam and ran to her to try and save her, but…I-I was too late,” your voice quivers and you feel Baela stiffen under your grasp—“they overwhelmed us and Ser Jason betrayed us, so they were able to take us. That’s…when…Aegon,” you gasp shakily. “He…killed her,” you let out with a growl as your anger overturns the sorrow that was clinging in your throat.
“No,” Baela whispers. “No. No…” she trails off and manages to yank her hands from under your grasp.
You continue to look at the ground beneath your feet, but you hear her back away in the growing silence.
And it’s in the silence that violent memories of that night come forth and you stop feeling sorry for yourself. You push back your grief and sorrow, and let your agony, your loud and throbbing rage come forth to take control of every part of you.
“But it’s okay,” you interject in a voice that finally holds emotion, but not warmth to comfort her, a coldness that only accompanies the bad. “It’s okay, Baela,” you continue and look at her with a gaze bathing in raging flames of malice, giving Baela chills when she finds your eyes.
“<Because I will avenge her. I will avenge our Queen,” you say in Valyrian so the guards nearby won’t understand. “I’m set to marry Aegon, and it’s when I become his Queen and garner some of his trust that I will kill him. We will.>”
Baela watches you with concern as your eyes grow dark and a wicked smirk paints on your lips. Yet she also feels relieved that your mother will be avenged. It’s that fire that will keep the war alive and bring justice.
However, you then continue adding on to your plans.
“<But not before I burn down the part of King’s Landing that killed Joffrey and forced my mother to flee,>” you reveal without remorse or a hint of deceit, only coldness and madness, and that’s when Baela’s concern outgrows her own thirst for revenge because hasn’t she lost enough?
“<But you can’t,>” she protests your plans in Valyrian and makes your face contort with confusion.
“<But I can,” you counter. “I have the means to. I have my dragon. And they deserve it. How can they go unpunished when they rose up against the crown? Besides,” you scoff. “Say what you want about Aegon, but he is still a Targaryen and those were our dragons, he’ll let me take revenge and put those people in their place.>”
Baela makes her way back to the bars and you see her eyes are still gleaming, but now as she speaks you know she doesn’t cry for your mother, she’s tearing up out of a gnawing worry. “<But what will raining fire down on those people cost but your life? Your own humanity?>”
“<Humanity?>” You quip and feel your face twist back with anger. “<Did they have humanity when they killed my son's dragon? Or every other dragon that lived in that pit, at that? Did they have humanity when they rose up against a woman trying to help them?!>” You raise your voice and grip onto those bars with a deadly grip.
“Perhaps not,” Baela counters in the common tongue. “<But that’s when you become the bigger person and show them we can still be a fraction they can trust and believe in. We can have them help us in our fight against the traitors that still remain!>”
You look at her as if she offended you and shake your head. “But don’t you get it? It was because they turned against my mother that she had to flee. It was because of them that she’s dead! There's no point in saving such traitorous and disgusting people. Don’t you see?”
“And don’t you see that raining fire will result in more smallfolk asking for your head?!” She exclaims. “Don't you see that it will turn you into someone unrecognizable that you won’t even comprehend? You will lose yourself!”
You clench your jaw and lower your jaw as your glare turns fierce.
“Let it go,” Baela warns. “Let all that anger and thirst for revenge go because it will kill you and I have already lost enough. We both have. Just do it the right away. It may be a longer path but it won’t get you killed.”
You blink as you take in her words. Not because you’re considering them, but because you don’t know what to answer with. Not at that moment.
“No,” is all you muster, and fall quiet again, letting her draw out a deep breath and linger in the growing silence for a moment before you finally blurt words that just bombard your mind. “What if it had been Jace?”
“Don’t,” Baela warns but you continue and lean your face towards the bar.
“I will,” you rebuttal and keep going. “If it had been Jace who had died in that riot you would not think twice about doing what I want to do even if it cost your life!”
“I said don’t!” Baela exclaims and slams her hands on the bars hoping it will scare you off, but you just stare deep into her eyes and try to press her.
Yet there’s no buttons to push. Anger perhaps reigned over her once, but you don’t see it now through the windows that let you take a peek at her tired soul.
“Do what you want,” she says and follows up with your name as she continues. “Just don’t expect me to have your back because your mother is the last person I will grieve in this war,” she remarks and backs away toward the shadows of her cell. “I won’t hold a candle for you anymore,” she adds with an attempt at sounding angry but she sounds more sad than anything else.
“Okay,” you mutter and blink repeatedly, feeling your eyes sting with tears that build up in your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. You draw in a deep breath and nod stiffly in comprehension before you turn and storm away with your agitation almost rising off your head in the form of steam.
How could she of all people expect you to let your anger go? Why can’t she muster the energy to keep pushing a little longer? Isn’t her grief, rage, and agony loud and chaotic too?
Nevertheless, when you reach the door and try to leave the dungeon, the door opens and guards barge in.
There’s no one else in this dungeon for them to take so even if you're pissed off at Baela, you stop in your tracks and turn on your heels to watch them open her cell.
“What are you doing?” You probe with curiosity and worry that form quickly.
When neither of the men answers, you march over to the man yanking Baela out of her cell, and demand an answer. “Where are you taking Lady Baela? Answer me!”
The guard looks at you from the corner of his eyes and deadpans. “The King wants to see her in the courtyard.”
What? What for?
These men won’t answer you, they hardly wanted to answer your previous question, so you turn swiftly and storm past them to reach the courtyard first. That’s when you come to a stop though and get riddled with disgust when the stench of rotting flesh hits your nose before you’re shocked to see that Sunfyre is no longer struggling to stay alive. He’s dead, and Aegon…when you let yourself take him in you notice that his eyes are red and puffy, but they're also mixed with anger.
“What do you want from Baela?” You demand him and struggle to hold his gaze.
“So you do come out of your chambers?” Aegon remarks and doesn’t hold amusement or any kind of teasing glint, his gaze remains narrowed and locked on you. “You’ll see.”
You huff and stomp toward him to keep pressing him, but his sad attempt at a Kingsguard puts themselves in between him and you, leaving only glares to be passed and challenged until Baela is brought forth.
“Sunfyre is dead,” Aegon blurts but there’s a hint of…sadness in his voice and why wouldn’t there be? No matter what you feel about Aegon, he was still a dragonrider and his bond with his dragon was like yours with Astraea, so it’s easy to tell why he expresses such sadness.
“And it’s because of you and your damned dragon,” Aegon hisses and has the guards move aside to let him pass and drag his wooden chair toward Baela. “So it’s good your dragon paid the price, but now you must pay it too.”
“No,” you interrupt him and take a big step forward to try and get close, but a guard once again steps in between and blocks you away from Aegon with his arm.
“I renounced my betrothed to be yours. I am going to be your willing wife once we return to King’s Landing,” you remind him with distress building in your voice. “Which means that our sins have been pardoned, you cannot kill her. Spare her life.”
Aegon tilts his head and shakes it. “No. I already spared your brother's life. He’s a threat to my claim, but I spared him because you and I will marry. That was the only condition you could be granted. No more. She will die for what she did,” he spats in return and then snaps his gaze to the guards holding Baela so they can drag her to the block.
“Aegon!” You exclaim and look at him with desperation. The same desperation you used when your mother was in a similar position. “Please!”
“<I love you.>”.
You gasp and try to move toward Baela now that you have free range, but the guard that had kept you from Aegon wraps his arms around your waist to hold you back, making those words that just echoed in your head get louder, and making the image of her, your mother start forming in your mind and threaten to paralyze you.
“<I love you.>”.
No. No, no, go away. Go away…
“Aegon, please,” you whisper and look over at him with tears that are quick to form in your eyes. “She’s still your cousin. She…she…” you trail off as the image of your mother appears before you in the same way before she died, so you’re forcefully ripped away from the current moment and return to that night.
You see her as clear as day all over again. You see her in front of Sunfyre.
You want to save her, but you can’t. Once again you’re useless in the situation and you watch as the fire bathes her all over again, ripping her away from you.
“NOO!” You bellow and reach out for her, but the moment you blink you’re brought back to reality and Baela is now taking your mother's place.
“The princess is right about sparing Lady Baela’s life,” the new maester interjects and glances at you with concern. “She is still a Velaryon, daughter to Lady Laena, and granddaughter to Lord Corlys. If you kill her he might turn his fleet against you and trap you here. There has been no word about him declaring war so it’s safe to assume you can negotiate a deal but only if his remaining kin are left alive.”
You keep your eyes on Aegon to wait and watch him ponder the decision laid before him while Baela’s head remains on the chopping block.
“Aegon,” you mumble but don’t gain his attention. He keeps his eyes averted and remains silent until he comes up with his answer.
“Alright then. Send a letter to the Sea Snake’s bastard…the living one,” he snickers and steals a glance at you so you know he’s taunting you. “Tell him if he doesn’t present himself in a fortnight to pay homage to his rightful liege, his niece Lady Baela will die.”
The maester bows and scurries off, whilst the guards pull Baela to her feet and without needing to be told, they start dragging her back where they had brought her from, letting you draw out a deep relieved breath, and part away from the guard still holding you back to get close to Baela.
Albeit it’s when you’re near her that she drags her eyes toward you and mutters. “I did not need your help nor did this change my mind about you.”
You blink in disbelief and draw in a shaky breath of shock before you push your nose up in the air and nod stiffly because this hasn’t changed your mind about what you need to do. “If that’s what you want I won’t beg for your attention.”
You let out a deep breath and watch her get taken away with your jaw clenched, and your eyes cloudy with tears unaware of the fact that that would be the last time you would see her. Not forever, but while you waited for a response you were restricted from going down to the dungeons—so much for free range. So you were left waiting in your quarters for days and days for any response whether it was a direct attack or a letter.
Then again, you did not mind being still and waiting because it let you plan what you wanted to do to get rid of Aegon once and for all. Besides, you weren't desperate to look for some way to talk to Baela either. Perhaps you should’ve snuck your way down to the dungeons and made peace with her—it’s what your mother and Jacaerys would have told you to do, but you heard what she said, and you were being honest in what you said too, so you kept your word while you were waiting in your solitude and just planned and let yourself get lost in your thoughts again and again.
That is until finally word came from Kings Landing that your grandfather Lord Corlys had declared his loyalty to Aegon, and that he was pardoned and accepted back in the Small Council after declaring his allegiance to the Broken King. In turn, Baela was spared from her fate and finally brought out from the dark dungeon, but not spared from chains. She would be kept in chains until you reached Kings Landing, which won’t be long now because at long last, “we’re going home”, left Aegon’s lips.
Thus finally after weeks, you were allowed to leave the grey walls and haunting halls of Dragonstone. Yet what was leaving Dragonstone really worth when every waking hour, with every step you take, and every breath you breathe you’re reminded of her, your mother, and her death.
The memory of her death is like a never-ending loop that the sight of the sea can’t wash away while you’re on your way back to King's Landing. Which is such a shame because you really love the sea...
“You know,” you say to Aegon after you debated long and hard if you wanted to speak to him or not—“it was the Smallfolk who killed all the dragons. They’re the ones to blame for not letting you have access to a new dragon.”
Aegon watches the waves splitting against the ship while you watch the clouds with a hint of a smirk.
“I know,” Aegon mutters.
“We have to respond to their treason and rebellion with fire,” you share as you catch a large, winged shadow form in the clouds. “We have to remind them that there are consequences to their actions and that we are still the crown and that they are sheep. Even if they did defy the opposing side.”
Aegon doesn’t respond right away, he stays quiet and continues to watch the way the waves part.
“What would you have me do?” Aegon almost snaps at you, but he manages to keep his composure and just sounds annoyed.
“Let me rain fire on them,” you share the plan you’ve been brewing for a while. “Not the entire city, just a section of it so they remember we hold the power. That they have to look up at us. We are not their equal.”
Aegon slowly diverts his eyes away from the waves and starts to turn his head to look at you, but before he can take a glance the sound of clicking coming from above steals his attention before a roar that rattles the wooden boards and shakes the water's surface blasts from the clouds.
“Why should I trust you not turning against me when you’re on your dragon?” He asks the right question as claws and a purple-scaled belly break the clouds as Astraea reveals only a part of herself first before she dives down in front of the running ship and quickly yet shakily swoops up to the air with a large fish caught in her claws.
“Because,” you say with a faint smile as you watch your dragon go back to hiding in the clouds. “You have my brother's life in your hands and I will do anything to keep my last remaining brother alive.”
You finally drop your eyes to look down at Aegon and await his response, knowing that he knows that if he doesn’t act, people will view him as weak and he doesn’t want people to keep thinking that about him. Not anymore because after all that’s happened he’s still alive and the King.
“Fine. Do it,” Aegon gives in, causing a wicked smirk to break on your lips.
——
“Who is it that you wanted to be?”
A peaceful tranquility can almost be felt radiating from Shae’s Manse as the brisk wind running over King’s Landing almost seems to carry it in between its gusts that hit you while you sit upon your dragon; causing your long sleeves designed like dragon wings, and the end of your crimson dipped skirt to blow behind you while your shining silver chain head peace that falls over your face like a veil, sings as the wind makes the silver chains hit each other lightly.
“Besides wanting to be a sailor, or an explorer, or a singer, I wanted to be Queen; a kind one like my great, great grandmother Queen Alyssane, and my ancestor Queen Rhaenys.”
You’ve had time to think about what you wanted to do and yes there were moments in time when you hesitated and wanted to back off from your plan for the sake of the innocent lives that had to do with running your mother out of town. However, just as your plans fire is going to die out, the sparks of anger, revenge, and agony keep it alive because that same mother returns to haunt your thoughts, and then you can’t stand the thought of the people’s betrayal going unpunished.
Besides, they had their chance and they wasted it. They chose fear, so you will give them something to fear.
“<Forward.>” You command Astraea in Valyrian and nudge the handles down regardless of your verbal command. All without changing a single expression on your face. Even if you're full of rage, your exhaustion, grief, and agony keep their claim on your face, exposing someone who looks empty and tired of everything life has thrown at them, even something as small as expressing emotion.
Then again you are tired. You’re tired of it all. You just want silence and a moment of stillness and where else can you find it but here? In this current moment as Astraea flies past the wall and brings the Smallfolk a moment of darkness as her shadow casts over the streets, homes, and busybodies.
However, the darkness doesn’t scare them right away because when they look up they see The Adventurous Astraea, a dragon known as tolerant to people, protective and kind to those you love, and obedient to her rider. So they look away from the purple beast. Some welcome the dragon as they start to feel immediately safer due to all the criminal activity that has ravished the city. However, they should have known. They should have expected consequences for their crimes.
No bad deed goes unpunished and you are here now for justice. You are your mother and Joffrey’s revenge.
You are their terror.
“Dracarys,” you sneer and lift your chin slightly to look down at the people with a change in your gaze, going from an exhausted and empty look to a pierced glare reflecting the roaring fire as it falls from Astraea’s mouth and rains down on the people.
There’s no hesitation, no pause, or a small taste of justice. The cries and screams don’t reach your heart because now it’s impenetrable. Like a nasty and quick plague, the fire keeps unfolding over the streets of Shae’s Manse, causing that beautiful tranquility that once traveled past the city walls to erupt into an uproar of chaos.
Some people that were lucky to escape the flames that ate away at everything and everyone in its way, found salvation in Flea Bottom. However, the same can’t be said for the people who try to escape toward Rhaeny’s Hill because you and Astraea turn your terror toward it.
If only the Dragonpit had been intact because people could be safe and untouched by the fire in there, but alas, it was the Smallfolk who caused the Dragonpit to fall when they killed those dragons. It was their own stupidity that destroyed their biggest means of salvation because Astraea doesn’t put it up in flames, you make sure to leave it untouched by any flames.
When you fly past what was once the city’s greatest wonder, you continue to spread your terror with more vigor. With more rage and pure visceral hate because if it wasn’t for them your mother would have never fled King’s Landing! She wouldn’t have fallen in Aegon’s clutches! And she would still be alive!
But no, they ran her out of her home. They killed your brother Joffrey and took the person you loved the most. Them! They did it! Every single filthy person below was the cause of your mother's death. They robbed you of your hope, joy, and light and left you in the dark void where all you have is your pain that throbs in the same way your heart beats. And with every single ba-dum, there's a reminder of what you lost and the pain it brings. And with every other beat the pain and the hate that was already so overwhelming spreads.
How much more of it can you handle? You don’t want to hurt, but you can’t forget. The pain is constant and the memory is haunting and loud! You just want it to stop!
“Please, please, please,” you beg in your mind and close your eyes, but Sunfyre ripping your mother apart flashes in your mind. You see her dying over and over again and it all grows louder.
The cries and pleas coming from below grow tenfold, adding the volume in your head. The fire's constant roar heightens too and it all starts to swirl in your head until you let out a blood-curdling scream that finally brings silence.
The fire that you rain doesn’t come to a stop, you continue to spread it as you fly down the Street of Seeds, but everything is quiet. There’s a peace in the chaos that you alone relish in until finally you hit Cobble Square and have Astraea finally stop, letting you tune into the noise once again.
However, rather than turning your dragon around and flying toward the Red Keep, you descend your dragon and land on Cobble Square to watch the beauty of the flames as they rise toward the sky, and the thick smoke pollutes the air. Furthermore in that moment as you stand there taking it all in, a swarm of people who were unscathed, and people who were caught on fire run toward you, but not to seek your attention nor is it because they’re full of wonder by your appearance. The people ran past you in terror. They don’t try to touch you or ask for a simple greeting, they shove past you because they’re terrified.
And that's all you wanted, but not all you see. You also see your mother standing in the middle of the chaos that runs at you; she glows in the chaos and outshines the bright flames, but doesn’t carry any notable emotion. She just watches you and you watch her as if telling her that this is all for her.
After a lingering minute of the world just being about her illusion and you, you decide to turn away and mount your dragon to fly to the Red Keep. This time when you land, people don’t run, nor do they look at you with fear. You find horror in the eyes of the survivors like Alicent, Lord Borros, Lord Larys, and your grandfather Lord Corlys as they stand in the courtyard after having greeted their King.
Your grandfather tries to find the answer in your eyes, but when he finds your gaze past your veil of chains he sees a glossy yet narrowed and burning gaze. That girl he was looking for is gone; he sees that when you stop by him, but that's not all because he’s the only one who looks deeper than the surface. Everyone else sees a mad woman who couldn’t be stopped because it was the King himself who allowed the terror to happen.
“Welcome home, Princess. It’s good to see you again.” Your grandfather breaks his stunned silence, making you slowly find his gaze and neither smile nor frown. Your gaze remains glossy and hardened and keeps holding that fiery behind them that tells him without a need for words that there’s nothing good about being back.
“Did they find the guilty party for the uprising?” You ask bluntly without returning his warmth despite the fire you hold. “I want to see them”
Your grandfather sighs and hesitates before he nods. “Yes, but,” he pauses. “The King wants to wait until after the wedding to pass judgment on the guilty. He is eager…” he trails off and you avert your gaze and nod stiffly before you walk without bothering to greet anyone else even though Lord Borros had restored peace to the city, and Alicent couldn’t keep her eyes off you, almost like she wanted to talk to you but also couldn’t bring herself to do it, so instead she just stands there watching you until you completely disappear inside and aren't seen again. Not like before.
Before you were spotted in the halls of the Red Keep frequently. When you were young it always varied whether you were alone or accompanied, but you truly lived up to the name they had given you, “The Golden Girl.” It was always such a delight for so many to see you. And when you got older, when you returned from the North, people often sought out a mere glimpse of your appearance as you had grown more glorious, and it’s not like you didn’t give them a reason not to seek you out, because oh, you did. You intrigued them more with the warmth that flowed from you and embraced their presence like the sun embraced everyone it saw.
Now no one sought you out, you were not a glorious presence riddled with warmth. You would be like a dark cloud bringing in a storm that everyone wants gone and wants to avoid; if you would get out of your quarters that is, but you didn’t. You stayed inside your quarters as if locked inside, making everyone believe you felt safer and more comfortable within your four walls, but that was far from the truth. You’re miserable. You can hardly sleep or stand being awake. You hardly eat and don’t do anything you used to like. You hardly see your children. You’re just there wallowing in everything that torments you.
When the day of the wedding rolls around (which was only two days after you returned) you did manage to get in a few winks of sleep and when you woke up there he was, your husband, your Aemond. He’s still asleep with his long blond-silver hair in a braid, and his calm breaths making his chest and nostrils rise and fall ever so gently.
He honestly looks like a beautiful piece of artwork that you can admire for hours, but alas, you want to be that much closer to him so you raise your hand right from under you and reach out for his cheek to stroke it.
Yet, when your hand is about to make contact with his flesh you're abruptly reminded that no one is lying beside you, and Aemond is in fact dead. You wake up alone in a cold room looking at an empty space, remembering, like a slap to the face, that today is your wedding to the man you hate.
You could jump out of your balcony and avoid the entire thing, but they’re all now depending on you, aren’t they? Everyone that died? They depend on you to try and get your mother's own blood on her rightful throne. You can feel the pressure of their haunting hands holding you up, pushing you to keep fighting another day and walk down that aisle to play your part in this war still kept alive by sparks and people fanning the flames.
Thus you let the army of women get you ready. You drape on your heavy ivory wedding gown dipped in crimson red, and hide your grieving and hardened face behind a crystal-littered veil before you finally drag your feet out of your quarters.
This time around your wedding isn’t private nor is it done under Valyrian traditions like when Aemond and you married on that hill with no one but your dragons, Helaena, his mother, and Aegon. The sun isn’t out, and the sea isn’t accompanying you either, snow graces Kings Landing as it gently falls from the sky, and hundreds pairs of eyes are forced to be your witness to show the people that at long last the Targaryen family had mended their differences and rejoined their forces as one.
War will surely end now, and peace will finally return to the realm!
That’s all they want, that’s all they care about. They don’t care about Aegon marrying you, they stopped caring about you the moment you turned your dragon against them, so they don’t care if you look miserable. Not even the highborn Lords that stand nearby care that you never lift your head off the ground throughout the ceremony done under the eyes of the Seven. They just care about finally reeling you in and locking you away to bring an end to the war (they started).
The only people who care are Cregan who is too far to do anything to stop the wedding, and you, but they can’t hear you screaming and crying because you suffer quietly and act like the cooperating princess. That’s what you let Aegon see when he drapes his cloak on your back to signify that you’re at last his, cooperation and emptiness, and that’s what you continue to show him when he lifts the veil off your face. However, he ignores that as he's eager to finally know the taste of your lips.
“You truly are radiant today,” he says with a faint smirk, making you offer him a soft scoff as a response before you stand to your given height after having to crouch to his level, causing the veil to slip over on your face as you turn away from him to let the ceremony continue to the second portion; your coronation.
However, as much as you dreamt and as excited as you once were to hear those glorious words directed at you. Now you simply tune them out and don’t even think about smiling or mustering any ounce of pride when the time comes for the crown to be placed upon your veiled-covered head.
Albeit you also don’t look like there’s no soul inside your body. When you turn to face the crowd of people, your eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the corner of your lips droop with your faint scowl, and the crystal fragments on your veil cascade down so perfectly that it looks like there’s tears rolling down your cheeks, leading the audience to see you as some ethereal beauty; like those tapestries and statues of beautiful weeping gods. However, it’s all a trick of the bright white light reflecting through the windows of the Great Sept, because the mist in your eyes reflects the flames of ferocity still very much alive inside.
——
*LATER THAT NIGHT*
It’s a good thing Aegon can’t get his cock up anymore or else the night would be unpleasant and traumatizing. And it was almost traumatizing, but when it came to the bedding ceremony he couldn’t make it work, no matter the hunger in his eyes, so he began to drink and sent you off after he told you to swear that you wouldn’t tell a soul what happened.
But who could you tell? Baela? She doesn’t talk to you even though she’s not living in a cell anymore.
Vanessa? Sure, but the conversation will get a couple of laughs before it’s over and done with.
Rhaena? She’s still in the Eyrie and by the time she responds your amusement would have died down, so no there’s no one you could have actually told, he’s made sure of that…
Nevertheless, it’s a good thing the bedding ceremony didn’t last—or start to begin with because now you can put all your focus on the significant matter at hand.
“Ser Cane!” You greet excitedly as you watch him taking his hood off as he’s climbing up the steps of the Red Keep.
“Your Grace,” he responds with a hint of warmth in his otherwise nonchalant voice. “Look at you,” he muses and when he finally reaches you on top of the staircase he bows before he puts his arms out. “I hope it was a safe delivery.”
You avert your gaze and respond quietly. “It was a rather stressful one but the three of us are alive so it was safe.”
Your sworn protector sighs and drops one arm back to his side while he lets the other one hover over your shoulder for a second before he lets it fall gently. “My deepest condolences about your loss, my Queen.”
You blink repeatedly and feel your eyes sting at the weight of his words because you can hear that he actually means what he says, but you refuse to cry so you just take a deep breath and look up at him with a thankful smile. “Thank you Ser…was your trip here pleasant?”
Ser Cane drops his hand and shrugs. “As good as it gets.”
You scoff softly in response before you point your head inside. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”
Without any protest or attempt to add anything right there on the staircase where you have prying eyes, Ser Cane follows you inside to a secluded corner barely touched by nearby candlelight.
“How was the wedding?” Ser Cane asks with a hint of amusement.
“Pft,” you blow out and turn around on your heels with a smirk. “I got to wear beautiful gowns, and I now own beautiful crowns so I’ll say it was pleasant.”
Ser Cane scoffs and when you’re facing each other under the faint candlelight you begin to fiddle with your rings and probe. “Is Cregan okay? Safe?”
“He was worried,” Ser Cane admits as he watches your downcasted gaze. “He almost went mad with worry, but when we heard word of your wellbeing he calmed down. I’m sure he would be here in a heartbeat given the chance, but he’s keeping his head up and doing his job. He’s waiting on his army, they should reach him soon.”
Your lips fall as you nod gently in comprehension and take it all in without letting the news ache your heart too much. You feel it get tugged at as you imagine what Cregan might be feeling and thinking after you had finally gotten your chance to start your long-awaited story together, but he can’t take up all your thoughts nor can you let him torment you too harshly because there’s still a sliver of hope. If he gives you one more chance then there will be no more obstacles after this.
“How did he take the news about me being engaged to Aegon?” You have to ask as that specific thought has been killing you since he couldn’t respond back with a letter of his thoughts on the matter.
“I don’t know,” Ser Cane admits with a sigh. “I’m sorry, your Grace. He read the letter in his private quarters and when he came out, well…you know how he is. Cool as ice.”
The corner of your lips twitch up and you nod in agreement before you ask one more thing. “You didn’t tell him why you left, did you?”
Ser Cane scoffs. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”
You smile and tilt your head to the side. “I am not doubting you Ser, I just know that if he had asked, you wouldn’t have denied him an answer. You’re respectful that way.”
Ser Cane pulls something out of his satchel that’s hidden behind his cloak and then shakes his head. “Not with your personal matters, My Queen,” he says with a small proud smile that stays on his face as he hands you a small flask wrapped with parchment paper.
Before you pull the paper off the flask though, you offer him a flustered smile and then proceed to take the paper off to read the words it holds.
“You are going down the right path.
I will see you soon enough. Until then.
-Alys”
You smile softly and with admiration, before you hand the letter to Ser Cane so he can put it away while you lift your hand to look at the slow-acting poison you asked Alys to concoct for you.
“Great. Now I hope you’re able to stand on your feet for a while longer, Ser because we have work to do,” you let him know with a smug hint in your tone of voice as you hand him the flask so he can keep it hidden for you in his satchel for now.
“Of course, I can,” he assures you, making you flash him a smirk before you depart from your dimly lit corner and return to your quarters, but not to stay there. You take the hidden passage hidden within the walls of your quarters and guide Ser Cane down corridors festered with rats and only lit by the torch that you both hold in your hands.
There are many times when your sworn protector wants to question where you’re leading him, but he trusts you so follows you blindly until finally, you hit a stone wall that holds a doorknob.
“Here,” you point your chin to the doorknob on the wall.
“Are you sure?” Ser Cane asks for your safety.
You hum in agreement and take his torch before you step aside to let him open the door.
Once the light from inside the room casts outside you hang the torches on the wall, and let Ser Cane take the lead to the mysterious room.
“Who goes there?” A voice from inside carries out, but doesn’t get answered as Ser Cane stomps in, nor when you strut behind him and get surrounded by the brighter room. You let the sight of your presence answer the question your grandfather, Baela, and Lord Larys ask themselves.
“Granddaughter,” your grandfather gasps as he watches you quietly stride toward the chair at the end of the table.
“Queen,” Ser Cane corrects him as he closes the secret door. “She’s your Queen.”
“Your Grace,” your grandfather corrects himself whilst Lord Larys immediately greets you with the right title and Baela stays quiet.
Albeit you ignore the greetings so it doesn’t matter. You just take a seat on the chair that steals all of the attention of the room, and sit up straight with your nose in the air and a smirk dancing on your lips.
“Sit my Lords and Lady, we have a coup to plan.”
.
.
.
.
.
A/N- Ser Cane the father that stepped up
Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa
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cherryheairt · 6 months ago
Text
Dragon Dreamer pt. III
tags: @beebeechaos
Daenys avoiding her problems per usual
all feedback appreciated <3, I'm unsure how I want to write this longterm, bc the two will have to separate after the wall scene and idk if people would want chapters with just Daenys and no cregan lol
also appearently cregan's actor tom taylor has heterochromia and i think green/blue eyes but for the life of my i cannot find a clear pic of it </3
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Daenys woke from her distant dreams only after the sun had risen. While still snowing and freezing outside, Morningstar had done well to warm the pair under her protective wing.
Cregan sat vigil all throughout the night, no complaints coming from the young lord as he did. Protecting the princess was simply a part of his many duties, he mused to himself sometime in the night while she whispered.
She blinked a few times, eyes heavy and body nearly numb. Though warm, she was still only clothed in house slippers and her night dress. A weight around her caught her attention, knowing that Morningstar couldn't wrap herself around Daenys like that.
"You awake, Princess?" A soft voice asked beside her.
Tilting her head up and squinting, "Cregan?" She whispered, voice horse from speaking all night.
"Good morrow, my lady," was all he said, that secret smile of his plastered on his face. She didn't know how to feel. A million things rushed to her mind; shame, humilation, frustration-
He interrupted her thoughts, shuffling to a crouch from his sitting position. Cregan offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. Leading them both out from under Morningstar, Cregan bowed his head respectfully to the she-dragon.
"She allowed you to come near us?" Daenys asked, in awe.
"Aye, I don't know why, exactly. I'm grateful for it, so I will not question a blessing." He told Daenys, reaching down to grab his sword that had been sitting on the snowbank for hours and shouldering it.
"Shall we break our fast, or would you like to sleep?" He turned to her, attentive grey eyes finding her violet ones.
Biting her cheek, she waited for the other shoe to drop. When would he demand answers from their night? Banish her from his house forever and ridding himself of the Velaryon girl.
"You should sleep, Lord Stark. I have kept you from it all night." She decided, looking at the tired expression pulling at his handsome face.
"Sleep often evades me with my duties, this is only another one. I would never sleep again if my Princess asked it of me." He told her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "The day is new. Will you break fast with me?"
Daenys followed the lord into the dining hall. It was more active than the previous night, bustling with the activity of the Keep's servants. It only took a minute of sitting before their breakfast was in front of them, some light bread and oatmeal. Daenys greedily drank the cold water provided for her, the relief for her throat that had been burning the whole way to the Keep.
Cregan watched the display for a moment, smiling to himself before politely focusing on his food, not watching her pick at her breakfast like the previous night. "Do you want anything else? If you don't like the food, just tell me. No one will take offense, as long as you're fed."
"This is good." Daenys answered shortly. She took small bites of the oatmeal, pulling parts of the bread to slowly chew. She felt like her body was going through the motions completely on its own, her brain firing in a million different directions yet going nowhere at all.
"..Princess?" Cregan asked again, stirring her.
He had been talking for a while, she thought. Daenys hummed, gesturing for him to continue. His meal was done already, how much time had passed?
"I said I would like to take you to Castle Black, if you would allow me."
"The Wall?" Daenys furrowed her brow, placing her spoon into the half-full bowl.
"It would be a two week trip on horseback, and you can see what your predecessors witnessed all those years ago. A reminder of what the North protects the realm from."
In simple terms, he wanted to convince her to take the least amount of men to arms as possible. She was not dull. Perhaps he thought she was, just like the court men. He was talking like a Southerner, now. All hidden meanings and pretty half-truths. Disappointing, truly, Daenys liked the straightforward Stark better.
"I would not oppose a trip to see the Wall. It would be much faster on Morningstar, but I'm sure your council would oppose their lord doing such a thing." She said wryly. Daenys didn't want to become curt with the kind lord, but her displeasure with his words made itself clear in her tone
He grimaced slightly before straightening up, bowing his head politely. "I have some matters to attend to before we depart. I will have some things packed for you. For now, get some rest, we'll leave in the afternoon." He left quickly, and it was then that she noticed his fur coat was missing. She could make out his body shape now, no longer hidden and cloaked by the massive fur. When had he left them?
The weight on her own shoulders as she stood solved that question for her. The familiar brown furs surrounded her like a blanket, warm yet drowning. Was it bear? Or even wolf? Daenys wasn't sure, but her heart beated harder knowing that he had sat with her all night, keeping her safe and warm despite knowing her dragon was perfectly capable.
Daenys settled into her chambers, forgoing slipping under the furs already on her bed in exchange for the fur Cregan had provided her. It smelled like him, a deep wood and iron scent that might have been too strong and unfitting on anyone but the Warden himself. The comfort soothed her to sleep quicker than she had in many moons.
🗡
Strong hands guided Daenys through the courtyard of the Red Keep. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother's sworn protector, had become more of a protector for herself these past few moons.
When the nightmares started, the Red Keep was put ill at ease with the little girl, avoiding her like the plague. While most took after Queen Alicent, avoiding her and gossiping about how the girl must be a witch, condemning people to horrible fates with her predictions, the bolder ones like her uncle Aegon had done the opposite.
Harassments, taunts, planting some of Helena's bugs into her bed, even getting physical when no one was looking. Who would believe the mad girl besides her own mother? The prince, of course, never received any reprimanding or punishment. He always got away with everything, per usual. He had the Queen herself in his corner, who defended his vile behavior even when multiple servant girls came sobbing to the Queen's chambers.
Rhaenyra couldn't bare to watch her only daughter be so tormented, especially by her own family. She instructed Harwin to keep a close eye on her, as her escort and guardian around the keep. He had no qualms with this, of course. The girl was beloved by him and Rhaenyra deeply, though this coddling did not go unnoticed by the royal family.
Daenys' one credit as a child was her silver hair and purple hues, an image of her mother. Her brothers after her were not so lucky, born brown-eyed and brown-haired. Ser Harwin was said to be the sire of Rhaenyra's army of dragon-riding bastards, to the obliviousness of Daenys.
When she grew older, she realized that Alicent was right in that one thing. Harwin Strong undoubtedly fathered the boys. She was unclear about her own father, but Harwin's affections for her never differed from her brothers.
She found herself not minding. Ser Laenor claimed the children as his own and loved her mother as a dear companion. But Harwin's love for Rhaenyra was different than Laenor's. She saw the look in his eyes as he gazed upon the heir, filled with devotion and love unmatched by any other wed couple in the keep. Daenys had only seen such a love displayed by them. Even long after Harwin's death, when Rhaenyra remarried her uncle Daemon, Daenys never saw that look in another man's eyes.
Daemon's love was passionate but possessive. It scared Daenys slightly, but she was happy so long as her mother was safe.
This day, Daenys wished to watch her uncles and brothers training in the yard. Ser Criston Cole usually overlooked the boys' training, leaving much to be desired in terms of favoritism. Much like his Queen, Criston despised the bastard boys. Though the four trained together, Rhaenyra's sons usually only watched as Aegon and Aemond practiced with their wooden swords.
Harwin left Daenys at the steps after a gentle ruffle of her loose hair, where she quietly sat and observed. Glancing at a bench overseeing the yard, Daenys spotted King Viserys also overlooking the morning training.
Harwin spoke a few words to Ser Criston for a moment, inaudible to Daenys but clearly pissing the Dornish knight off. Cole intructed that the eldest boys be placed against each other, though it was unfair.
Harwin's protests were thus ignored by the kingsguard, Daenys perking in her seat to watch Aegon and Jace spar. Quite a poor match, seeing their age and skill difference.
Aegon easily beat Jace, knocking the sword from his hand but not giving his opponent any mercy, still stepping forward to attack the young boy.
Harwin grabbed Aegon in a firm hold, tossing him away from Jacaerys. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Aegon screeched like a banshee, never being put in his place like that before. Spoiled brat.
Harwin scolded Cole, ignoring the eldest prince intentionally. After lifting Jace from the floor, Harwin glanced over the boy.
"Are you alright?"
Embarrassed, Jace only nodded with flushed cheeks and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Ser." He mumbled.
But Cole did not leave the matter, baiting the older knight. "You forget yourself, that is the prince." He said, a smirk on his tanned face.
"Is that what you teach, Cole? Cruelty." Harwin spat back, picking up the wooden swords from the dirt.
"Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin. Or a brother." He smiled brighter, "or a son."
Without skipping a beat, Harwin strong turned and swung at Cole's smug face. Again, and again until the man was on the floor and not fighting back.
Daenys stood and gasped, calling out towards her protector. "Ser Harwin!" she rushed forward, being stopped only by Jace and Luke, who could also only watch.
Harwin was dragged off of Cole, still spitting insults at the younger whilst the blood-covered man laughed as if he had won.
Aegon laughed loudly, now the loudest sound in the yard as both knights were escorted inside.
"Seems like the Strong bastards won't be so protected anymore." He snickered with Aemond at his side, loud enough for only the three to hear. Viserys took his leave, too, most likely to go settle the fight.
"We're not bastards!" Jacaerys yelled at him. Daenys and Lucerys were quiet behind him. Jace, though a year younger than Daenys, had taken the mantle of the protective one of the siblinge ever since Daenys had started getting shunned.
She was grateful for it, despite the nagging guilt she had for never defending herself or her little brothers.
"Just look at yourself, Lord Strong. Brown hair...pale skin..brown eyes. Perhaps Rhaenyra isn't your mother, either." Aegon said, earning a half-hearted laugh from Aemond beside him.
Ever the quiet of the two, Aemond faced his own bullying from Aegon and Daenys' brothers for being the only one of them to not claim a dragon. Typically, this made him stay out of any spats between Rhaenyra's children and Aegon, out of fear that he would be the next target.
Surprisingly, he even left Daenys alone. He spent much time with Helena, just as she did. They happened to spend a lot of time together in their youth because of their mutual bond, but they never gained a bond between themselves.
"You take that back!" Jace demanded, stepping foward and shoving at Aegon's chest. Being so much taller than Jacaerys, Aegon barely stepped back, only growing more amused.
"Jace.." Daenys urged behind him, tugging at his armor. "Let's go inside, I want to check on Ser Harwin."
Aegon turned to her now, "Its a mystery who your father might be. Ser Strong, Prince Daemon, Ser Laenor. I've even heard rumor of Rhaenyra having a tryst with Criston Cole at one time. Perhaps the cunt herself doesn't even know who your-" Aegon was abruptly cut off with a punch to his face so hard that he was sent to the floor. Shocked, he looked up expecting Jacaerys to have been the offender, but instead met the furious face of Daenys Velaryon. She didn't give him time to get up, punching and scratching at his pink face.
The other three stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if they wanted to let her continue or pry her off. Even Aemond stifled a laugh with a hand, turning away so Aegon couldn't notice.
Eventually Aegon grew out of his shock, easily throwing the younger girl off of him by her shoulders. Wiping his face, he stood and snarled down at Daenys, lifting a foot to kick at her while she was down, but was stopped and tackled by her two brothers. Now, Aemond choose to defend his older brother against the boys, albeit slightly reluctantly. The Pink Dread prank still heavily weighed on his mind every day.
Guards noticed at this point that the squabble of princes and the princess was no mere play fight, punches and kicks being thrown this way and that. The four of them seperated by forceful hands, given no time to walk themselves as they were dragged inside.
"Keep my mothers name out of your dirty mouth, līve!" She screamed behind her shoulder at the boy, who seemed shocked at the insult coming from her mouth. Jace and Luke, not versed in High Valyrion yet, didn't react, although she heard a snicker from Aemond as he was taken to Viserys with Aegon.
The other three were taken directly to Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra, quietly resting on her settee with little Joffrey coddled up in her arms, was surprised to see all three of her eldest children in such a state. She stood immediately, "what happened?" She asked the guards, handing Joff to the wet nurse and gingerly cradling her children's bruised faces.
"The princess and princes got into an altercation in the yard. Ser Harwin and Cole have also been sent to the King for their actions." One said, before being dismissed by Rhaenyra.
"I want the truth of it, now." She sternly told them, stress furrowing her brows.
"Ser Harwin beat up Cole." Luke said first, giving no context.
"Because Cole called us bastards." Jace continued, clearing it.
Rhaenyra sighed, putting a hand over her stomach, which Daenys noticed became a habit during her pregnancies as a way to calm herself.
"If Harwin is the one who fought Cole, why are you three all bruised up?"
Daenys avoided her eyes, earning a lifted brow from her mother. Jace stepped in to help, "Aegon started it! He called you.." He seemed to pause now too, not wanting to shame his mother with Aegon's vileness.
The three shared glanced between themselves, not guilty for fighting Aegon but guilty for not defending their mother's honor better. "He called you a cunt. And implied dishonorable actions." Daenys told her, biting her cheek hard after. Her face hurt.
Rhaenyra only sighed, bringing her children to her side to embrace them all. She breathed in to start a surely long speech, but Harwin entering the room disrupted that plan. Daenys was grateful for it.
He closed the chamber doors behind himself, gold Lord Commander's cloak was no longer wrapped over his shoulders. His armor was also off, as if he was taking a leisure day.
"Harwin?" Rhaenyra spoke, confused as to why he was visiting in such a state.
"I am being assigned back to Harrenhall with my father. The King has let me go from my time as Lord Commander." Was his answer. Pretty words for 'fired' from his duty. Just for defending the princes and their mother.
Rhaenyra gasped, hand bringing itself once again to hover over her stomach. "For what offence?" She demanded. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she could not let herself cry. Princesses do not cry over losing their guards.
Daenys knew then, that they were not merely protector and princess. They were husband and wife, in all but name. Harwin looked down at Rhaenyra with all the softness in the realm. "It is my own fault, I lost my temper." The two stood to the side for a minute, whispering amonst themselves. Daenys respectfully looked away, finding Jace staring them down intensely.
Harwin held Rhaenyra's face for only a moment, tender and bittersweet as they couldn't do anything more to say their goodbyes.
He turned to the children, "Luke, Jace. Keep up with your training, do not let Cole or the princes bully you out from improving. You will be fine knights." He smiled at them proudly, petting each of their heads and turning to Daenys.
Tears welled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks freely. She was not as strong as her mother, unable to control her feelings. "Ser.." She sobbed, barreling into his chest and burying her face into the tunic's material. Gently he held her, soothing her hair down from the mess it had became in the yard. "Don't fret, my dear girl. I will not be gone forever."
The smell of fire invaded her senses as he said that, a suffocating feeling enveloping her as she continued to cry. "I don't want you to leave at all." She told him.
"He must, we cannot change the will of the king." Rhaenyra said from behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Harwin and Rhaenyra shared another heavy look, both knowing how much Daenys relied on Harwin.
Harwin had to break the princess off of him eventually, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as he did. "I will be a stranger when we meet again.' He told Rhaenyra, who only nodded and smiled solemnly at him.
Harwin Strong took his leave from the Red Keep that day, and never returned to his family.
Jace watched the man walk away, down the hall. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked Rhaenyra stiffly. "Are we bastards?"
Rhaenyra swiftly looked around for any onlookers, relieved to find none. "You are Targaryens. That's what matters," she whispered firmly.
Daenys only stared at the space Harwin had once been, wishing things could stay the same forever.
"I am going to bed," she told her mother.
She wished she had not.
🗡
"My Lady?" The maid from yesterday evening woke Daenys from her deep sleep. Groggily she sat up, stretching out her stiff muscles. The cold affected her more than she thought. "Lord Stark is ready to depart. We have packed all the things you will need for the trip, I just need to get you ready."
Daenys was too tired to talk, only nodding along and allowing the older maid to dress her and do her hair. Pulled in a simple half-up braid, Daenys groaned at the thought of having to do her own braids while in the wilderness. The dress she was put in was a light blue, lined with white fur, softer than any she had felt before.
"All done, princess. He's waiting in the hall for you." She patted Daenys' shoulder in a motherly way, sending the girl off to the dining hall.
Daenys grabbed his fur coat before leaving, finding him standing in front of the hearth silently. He perked up when he spotted her, smiling almost instinctively. "Princess," he nodded. "Ready to leave?"
It was only then that she noticed a giant wolf at his feet, staring at her with bright blue eyes, contasting its brown fur. A direwolf, it must be. Tamed by the Stark? Their sigil seemed to ring true, just like the Targaryen's.
"As I'll ever be." She answered evenly, slightly looking forward to the trip. She'd never been on such a journey, only ever riding horseback for short distances and never once staying outside for more than a night. It would be interesting. "And who's this?"
"Dusk. He mostly stays outside, but I figured we could use his protection on our travels." Cregan gestured to the wolf. He seemed wild in most ways, Daenys would guess that he was when he was on his own, but Cregan being bonded to him and accustoming the animal to human domestication. Quite like the Targaryens and their dragons.
"I'm happy to have him, as long as he can get along with Morningstar." She smiled.
Hopefully she can find common ground with Lord Stark, gaining more men for the Queen.
Cregan offers Daenys his arm, which she takes as he guides her to their readied horses. "I picked out this one for you. He's a young stud, but he reminded me of Morningstar." Daenys felt her heart skip a beat when he said that, the thoughtfulness of the aftion making her smile brightly. She released his arm to pet the horse's snow-white face, greeting it.
"Thank you, my lord. He's beautiful." She said.
"Of course, princess." He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, before offering his hand again to help her mount. After adjusting herself on the saddle, Cregan mounted his own horse, a pretty chestnut mare.
Winterfell gave the two a cheerful goodbye parting, Daenys had to resist rolling her eyes. The same commonfolk who had gossiped about her yesterday were eagerly waving hankerchiefs at her and wishing their beloved princess well.
Cregan seemed amused by her stiff jaw as they walked past the gates. "Do you know what the folk call you?" He asked.
"I could think of a hundred names I've been called. None of them pleasent." She replied, eyeing him.
Above them, Morningstar glided gleefully, happy to be traveling again although she didn't know the destination.
Chuckling, he shook his head. "The Dragon Dreamer."
Stunned, she turns to look straight at him, finding his attention fully on her still.
"I..don't see why." She blushed. Never before had her visions been painted in a positive light of any kind.
"Northerners aren't so out of tune with the magic of this realm, as other kingdoms are. Have you ever heard of wargs?"
"A few times, in fairytales." She sniffed.
He nodded, "do you not believe in them?"
"Anything could be true. In a world where I ride a dragon, who am I to deny other types of magic?" She offered.
"Aye. My ancestors have dealt with magic since the first men. Stuff you wouldn't believe, out beyond the wall."
"What's beyond the wall?"
"Death."
🗡
alicent hightower you ARE the father
Līve - whore
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