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k4marina · 20 days ago

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— v. The Spoils of War || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: with highgarden now secure daenerys shifts her attention back to the caves of dragonstone and you finally venture down since your arrival.

warnings: war, executions, death, game of thrones typical themes

a/n: all dialouge in italics is Valyrian

important note at the end, please read.

series masterlist

5.4k wrd count

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

I could hear the screaming from up above. The air smelt like burning flesh and amber as Daenerys had gone around lighting anything and anyone ablaze. My eyes roamed the ground immediately spotting Drogon and Daenerys on the ground. A scorpion's spear was lodged into Drogon’s shoulder and not too far off the side was Jamie wielding a spear, readying himself to attack Daenerys. Thankfully, Drogon noticed and threw fire his way only for Jamie to be saved by someone and thrown into the river.

“Protect them.”

Viserion screeches and fire erupts from his mouth as he lights a ring of fire around Daenerys and Drogon so she could safely remove the spear. I turned Viserion back and aimed him towards the remaining enemy.

“Dracarys.”

Viserion ignites the ground beneath us in flames, destroying any remaining scorpions and Lannister men that were foolish enough to still fight. Through all the screaming and burning I could hear the galloping of horses and war cries. I look back to see a swarm of Dothraki coming from the West. They circle the remaining enemy soldiers, intimidating them.

“Over there,” I say to Viserion. “We’re safe to land over there.”

Carefully, Viserion descents to the open clearing I’d pointed out. Once on the ground again, I jumped off of Viserion and walked over to Daenerys. The fire around her and Drogon had fizzled down and she’d managed to get the spear out of his shoulder. I eyed the wound and then her worried expression.

“He’ll recover.” I glanced back to the Dothraki taking the prisoners. “They got here faster than expected.”

“I had Qhono send his fastest riders.” Daenerys replies. Her eye’s trailed towards the river. “He got away.” She says, referring to Jamie.

“Good.” I turn to look at the river too. “We’ll need him in the future.”

–––

Tyrion walks over the ash covered ground. There are burned bodies and empty cargo strewn about. The Dothraki loot the bodies of any remaining Lannister gold and weapons. He steps up onto the stone boulders where Daenerys stood. Tyrion and I stood on either side of her while Drogon and Viserion were behind her, eyeing the captured soldiers, ready to pounce with one word.

“I know what Cersei has told you,” Daenerys starts off calmly. “That I’ve come to destroy your cities, burn down your homes, murder you and orphan your children. That’s Cersei Lannister, not me. I’m not here to murder. ANd all I want to destroy is the wheel that is rolled over rich and Poor to the benefit of no one but the Cersei Lannisters of the world. I offer you a choice. Bend the knee and join me. Together we will leave the world a better place than we found it, or refuse and die.”

Tension hangs in the air as her words settle into the prisoner's mind. A few Lannisteer men kneel to the ground, while most remain standing. Dragon roars, moving closer to the men and almost all the Lannister men quickly kneel, while a few still remain standing including Randyll and Dickon Tarley, Samwell Tarley’s father and brother.

“Step forward, My Lord.” Daenerys commands. Randyll steps up in front of the kneeling Lannisters, his son not too far off.

“You will not kneel?”

“I already have a queen.” He replies, gruffly.

“My sister, she wasn't your queen until recently though, was she, until she murdered your rightful queen and destroyed House Tyrell for all time. So it appears your allegiances are somewhat flexible.” Tyrion says.

Randyll turns to Tyrion, “there are no easy choices in war. Say what you will about your sister, she was born in Westeros, has lived here all her life. You on the other hand, you murdered your own father and chose to support a foreign invader. One with no ties to this land, an army of savages at her back.”

“If I remember correctly, the Targaryen’s have lived in Westeros for hundreds of years and before Aegon's Conquest they resided on Dragonstone in Blackwater Bay for nearly 500 years.” I turn to him with a pointed look. “Her Grace was born on Dragonstone and forced to flee her home and live in exile in a foreign land thanks to the Usurper. All she’s doing now is coming home and reclaiming what was her families from those who stole it from them.”

Tyrion turns to Daenerys. “Perhaps he can take the black, Your Grace. Whatever else he is, he is a true soldier. He would be invaluable at the wall.”

“You cannot send me to the Wall. You are not my queen.” Randyll grits.

Daenerys doesn’t reply, merely turning to the Dothraki. Two men step forward, grabbing Lord Tarley and pulling him to the side. I watched as Dickon stepped forward.

“You will have to kill me too.”

Randyll pulls away from the Dothraki, turning to face his son. “Step back and shut your mouth.”

“Who are you?” Daenerys asks Dickon.

“A stupid boy.” Randyll replies for his son.

“I’m Dickon Tarley, son of Randyll Tarley.” Dickon answers proudly.

“You are the future of your house,” Tyrion tries to reason. “This war has already wiped one great house from the world. Don’t let it happen again. Bend the knee.”

Randyll nods to his son, wordlessly telling him to save his life. “I will not.” He double downs.

“You’re loyal to your father and family, it’s commendable.” I step forward. “It’s a shame your father doesn’t share the same trait.”

“My father is the most loyal man I know.” Dickon quickly defends.

“Is he?” I say, accusingly. “He fought valiantly for the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion, and now that the last Targaryen is here, he turns his back on her forgetting that 20 years ago he stood by her brother.” I shake my head. “But that shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, if he could turn his back on his eldest son, he can turn on anyone.”

Dickon looks taken aback. “Eldest son? What do you know about my brother?”

“Nothing.” Randyll sharply replies. “That woman knows nothing.”

“Do I?” I pressed further. “He couldn’t stand your brother.” I stepped down the boulder. “He hated the fact that he chose to read books instead of picking up a sword. So much so that he told his own child that if he didn’t take the black willingly, he’d kill him and make it look like a hunting accident. Instead of letting your brother be and naming you heir, he threw him to the Wall.” I stepped closer to Dickon. “Tell me, is this the man you want to die for? The one who’d murder his own child for reading books? Is this where your loyalty lies?”

The apple of Dickon’s throat bobs as he nervously swallows, shaking his head. “No, my father would never.”

“No? Ask him then.”

Slowly, he turned to his father who looked like he was ready to burst with anger. “Father. Tell me that she’s lying… please.”

Randyll clenches his jaw, casting his eyes downwards, answering Dickon’s question. He looked like he was ashamed. Not over the fact that he’d behaved in such a deplorable manner to his son, but the fact that he’d been exposed to his other son. Dickon’s face fell. He brought his hand up to wipe his face and collect his thoughts. He side steps me, standing clearly before Daenerys.

“House Tarley has served House Targaryen for centuries.” He began, his voice steady. “My father fought for your house against Robert's army and now, I will fight for your house, Your Grace. House Tarley is with you.” Dickon kneels, bowing his head.

Daenerys looks at me, impressed before turning to the new Lord Tarley. “Rise.” She commands. “Your loyalty is greatly appreciated. I look forward to fighting beside you as I reclaim my family's throne.”

Dickon stands, bowing his head once again. I lightly pat his arm, “you made a wise decision.” I turn back, stepping back to my place besides Daenerys.

“I’m giving those who are still standing another chance. Bend the knee or suffer the consequences.” Daenerys looks at the rest of the men standing in the eye as she speaks. Half bend the knee, while the rest too dumb for their own good stood their ground. Daenerys looks towards the Dothraki who pull those who are still standing to the side so they could meet their punishment.

“Dickon..” Randyll calls out his son who doesn’t spare him a glance or reply as he’s dragged away.

Drogon moved towards the prisoners, eyeing them like a prize. Daenerys turns towards them, “I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of my name, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons, sentence you to die.”

She pauses, making eye contact with Drogon. “Dracarys.”

Drogon draws in a deep breath and dragonfire spews out of his mouth at the men. They’re instantly engulfed in flames, their bodies completely incinerated. The remaining Lannister men recoil in shock and horror. Drogon huffs, pleased with his work and turns back to his brother.

Daenerys turns back towards Dickon who had tears in his eyes after watching his fathers execution. “I will call for you to raise your banners, Lord Tarley. Until then, rest and prepare for the battle to come.” Daenerys says, sort of reminding Dickon of his new position as Lord, but also as one of her allies before she turns back and walks away with Tyrion not too far behind.

I stood atop the boulder, watching as the men who bent the knee walked away, thankful that they had lived before turning my gaze towards Dickon.

“You made a wise decision.” I say, softly. “It was a hard one, but right. You will be a far better Lord than your father was.”

“That’s not true. I can never be as great as him.” He said, dejected.

“Would you ever threaten your own child for wanting to be in the company of books rather than swords?” I ask.

Dickon shakes his head.

“Then you’re already better than him.”

—–

“Are we ready to leave?” I ask Daenerys and Tyrion.

“Yes,” says Daenerys. “Highgarden is secure. The Dothraki will remain at guard here until a group of Unsullied take over the castle.”

“And I’m assuming you’re going back home to check on the place?” I ask Tyrion.

He nods. “I won’t take too long at Casterly Rock.”

I looked around at the battle-ridden field. The once dead soldiers now buried under ground, stripped of their armor and weapons. I spot a Dothraki carrying one of the Lannisters' swords and get an idea.

I turned back to Tyrion and Daenerys. “Have all the enemy swords gathered and taken back to Dragonstone with us.”

Daenerys frowns. “Our men have plenty of swords, what use are the Lannisters weapons to us?”

“Just humor me.”

Daenerys and Tyrion share a look, but nonetheless, she gives the order to round up the swords. A few Dothraki call out towards us, signaling something to Daenerys.

“They say that they’re ready to leave.” Daenerys explains.

Understanding, Tyrion bows. “Then I will be taking my leave, Your Grace.”

Daenerys dismisses him with a nod and the two of us watch as he makes his way over to the Dothraki that would be escorting him to Casterly Rock. Once they were out of sight Daenerys and I began our walk to where our dragons were.

“How did you know that about Randall Tarley?” She asks.

“I read about him,” I replied. “His eldest, Sam, became a Maester and in his old age he wrote about his life. Growing up, his life on the Wall, being the first man ever to kill a White Walker, basically a biography. In the book he alluded that his father would have done anything to get him out of his family, even making things look like an accident.”

“So you did all of that on a hunch?”

I shrug. “It’s not a hunch if it’s true, is it?”

“I guess not.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, but it’s clear Daenerys is in deep thought. “What do you mean we need him?”

“Who?” I ask. “Jamie?”

She nods.

“I mean what I said.” I said. “We don’t need him now, but later. He’ll be a great ally and an important tool to help knock down Cersei.”

“Jamie will help bring down Cersei? The woman he loves?” Daenerys doesn’t sound convinced.

“He loves her now, but not for long. His bond with Cersei is already strained after the death of his children, it won’t be long for him to realize that the woman he once loved has changed for the worse.”

“So once he’s come to his senses he’ll bend the knee to me?”

“What? No?” I shook my head. “He’s not going to waltz onto Dragonstone and bend the knee. You need to remember, he was there when your father had gone mad, he lived through Aneys’ madness. I know you’re nothing like your father, but he doesn't and he’ll be hesitant to shake your hand.”

“You just said he is going to be an ally. How is he an ally if he doesn't bend the knee to me?”

“Because anyone who is against Cersei is an ally.”

She stops walking, staring off at Viserion and Drogon. Her eyes lingered at the wound on Drogon’s shoulder where he’d been pierced with a spear. A spark of anger runs through her at the thought that her son was injured.

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll pay for what she did tenfold, we’ll make sure of it. You just need to keep a cool head and trust me.”

She lets out a long breath through her nose, “okay.”

“Though, I think you and I should hitch a ride on Viserion and let Drogon fly alone.” Daenerys agrees with my suggestion and mounts Viserion after I do. Both dragons take to the sky, Drogon a little shaky, and they fly back to Dragonstone.

–––

When we landed we were greeted by Missandei, Jon, and Ser Davos. Missandei was the first to step forward, eyeing Drogon and then the blood on my armor.

“Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, helping Daenerys off. “It’s not mine. Give Drogon something to eat, he’ll heal on his own, so just let him be.”

She nods, relaying the same information to a Dothraki guard who goes to do as I’ve said. Daenerys walks over to where Jon and Ser Davos are standing back, still wary of the two dragons.

As they talked, Missandei turned to me, “have you heard from Grey Worm?”

I smiled, knowingly. “No, but Tyrion is heading to Casterly Rock and I’m sure he’ll send us a raven soon. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of alone time once he’s back.” I winked, teasingly.

She suppressed a smile, blushing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Daenerys turns back, beckoning us forward. We walk over to her, Jon and Davos glance over at the blood on my armor, but don’t comment.

“Jon Snow and his men have been exploring the caves below.” Daenerys explains. “As they’ve said, it’s filled with Dragonglass.”

Jon nods. “From what we’ve explored so far, we can tell that the entire cave system is filled with Dragonglass.”

“We’ll explore tomorrow in the morning,” Daenerys says, watching as the sun begins to set. “Everyone get some rest.”

Missandei and I bow, watching as she walks towards the castle. Today had been a long day and the last thing I wanted to do was explore some caves. Missandei and I began walking back to the castle with the men behind us. Jon and Davos walked silently together.

“How was Highgarden?,” Missandei asks.

“Beautiful,” I recall. “Minus the Lannister force trying to ransack it.”

“I’m sure Lady Olenna had something to say about that.” Missandei laughs, but I don't, catching her attention.

“What happened? Did she make it out safely?” Missandei asks.

I pause, thinking back to her in that room. “No,” everyone stops walking, shocked. I turn back to their expecting faces. “I got there in time, but she didn’t take the antidote. I tried to convince her, but all she said was that Cersei had taken everyone from her, that her time was over and she was at peace with it.”

“So you just?..”

“I honored her wishes. I held her hand until the poison took effect. I’ve already given the orders to have her buried with the rest of her family. At least Cersei can’t split them apart in the afterlife.”

No one spoke, all of them just taking in my words. The air got colder, and the stars began to peak out of the sky.

I shook my head, “It’s been a long day. I’ll see you all in the morning.” I turned, not waiting for a reply and trekked back into the castle. The halls were dark and barren, but it was still nice. The walk to my room was refreshing, there was a small ache in my legs from riding Viserion all day. How Daenerys was able to fly a top of Drogon with no saddle was beyond me. Maybe I could look into making a saddle. Once in my room, I slipped my armor and clothes off and stepped into the already drawn bath waiting for me.

Tomorrow was going to be another big day. Everything was starting to pick up fast. So much was going to start happening in such little time. I could only hope that it’ll end up in our favor instead of Cersei’s or worse, the White Walkers. Once I had bathed I slipped into my nightgown and settled into bed with a heavy heart.

––

The air smelt like salt, fish and seaweed. A gust of air rushed past me as I walked down the stone steps towards the beach, blowing my hair silver back. I spotted Missandei and Daenerys already there, talking amongst themselves.

I bowed my head towards Dany, “it’s fucking freezing out here.”

“The days are getting colder,” Daenerys says.

“Where’s Jon?” I ask, looking around the beach. Both northern men and our Dothraki were scattered around the shore, carrying boxes and supplies.

“There,” Daenerys juts out her chin, pointing at Jon making his way over to us.

“Your Grace, My Lady,” Jon says. “This way.”

He leads the three of us to the entrance of the cave where he’s handed a torch by Ser Davos. The opening is dimly lit, almost inviting until you look deep into the center of the cave where nothing but the dark pit awaits. I clench my jaw, nervous. I hadn’t been in here since that night.

“Are you okay?” Daenerys asks in hushed Valyrian, just loud enough for me to hear.

I stare into the cave and nod, my hand instinctively coming up to where my necklace sits on my neck.

“It’s just a cave, that’s all.” I can't tell if I’m telling her or myself.

Missandei and Ser Davos wait by the entrance of the cave as the three of us step forward. Jon leads with Daenerys beside him while I follow behind her. The cave looked the same as it did when I woke up. I could feel an unsettling feeling settle on my chest as we went further into the cave and closer to it.

“I wanted you to see it before we start hacking it to bits.” Jon says. He lights a brazier, illuminating the cave and the Dragonglass against the fire.

Daenerys looks around the cave in awe. “Is this what you saw when you first entered?” She asks, looking at me over her shoulder.

I shake my head. “No. They’d hacked away at most of the glass in this cave over the years for weapons or jewelry. When I came here it just looked like a cave.”

Jon lights another brazier, listening to our conversation, despite not knowing what we were saying. “So this is it, all we’ll ever need. There is something else I want to show you.”

He steps further into the cave and Daenerys turns back, asking with her eyes, are you okay? I nodded and beckoned her forwards. She turned, following Jon. I held my breath the closer we got to the carvings. A few nights after my arrival I’d sat down and explained to Daenerys how I’d gotten here, or was brought here, more or less, but decided to leave out the part about the paintings.

The jagged cave walls were now covered in multiple carvings. The carvings reached all the way up to the ceiling of the cave. They varied from swirl patterns to drawings and smooth shapes. Looking at all of it so up close, I couldn’t help but marvel at it all. After so many centuries, the carvings remained the same, undisturbed. When I’d first arrived those carvings had either faded or were hacked away by people who wanted “a piece of history” but seeing them now in its actuality left a shiver down my spine.

“The Children of the Forest made these.” Jon uses the flame of the torch to show the molars painted onto the walls.

“When?” Daenerys asks.

“A very long time ago.” He replies.

“They were right there standing where we’re standing before there were Targaryens or Starks or Lannisters. Maybe even before there were men.” Daenerys says.

“No,” Daenerys turns from the wall to Jon. Jon walks to another wall, bringing the flame close to show a decision of the Children of the Forest and the First Men standing together. “They were here together, the Children and the First Men.”

“Doing what?” Daenerys asks, stepping closer to examine the murals. “Fighting each other?”

Jon takes her by the arm, leading her to the other side of the cave, using the torch to light the way. The mural showed the Night King and the White Walkers.

“They fought together against their common enemy.” She says, putting it all together. “Despite their differences, despite their suspicions, together.” Daenerys stares down the painting, silent. “We need to do the same if we’re going to survive.”

“Because the enemy is real. It’s always been real.” Jon finishes her thought.

Daenerys turns to Jon. “And you say you can’t defeat them without my armies and my dragons?”

“No, I don’t think I can.”

Daenerys steps forward, closer to Jon. “I will fight for you. I will fight for the north…” Jons face softens just slightly, “when you bend the knee.” Only for it to harden again.

“My people won’t accept a southern ruler, not after everything they’ve suffered.” Jon doubles down.

Daenerys steps even closer, “they will if their king does,” she argued. “They chose you to lead them. They chose you to protect them.”

There was a pregnant pause, the Dragon Queen and the King in the North staring at each other, either one not willing to back down.

“The Boltens were northern,” I finally spoke up, eyeing the two. They both look up at me. “Second most powerful House in the North after the Starks. Tell me, were they better than Southern rulers?”

Jon opened his mouth to interject but I cut him off. “Is your pride more important than your people's survival?”

Jon closes his mouth, standing down while Daenerys seems pleased that I was there to deliver the final blow. There’s another moment of silence as Jon mulls over our words.

“The torch.” I say, conusfung Jon and Daenerys. “Hand me the torch.”

Confused, he hands me the torch. Daenerys frowns, “are there more paintings?”

Jon shakes his head. “No, Your Grace.”

“There are.” I step between them, walking deeper into the cave. “Let me show you what I saw that night.”

Silently, they followed me, Jon looking between Daenerys and I. I lit the way for the three of us, my eyes bouncing off of the walls for the markings. I stopped suddenly, staring at the wall on my right. There.

I moved to the torch forwards, revealing the full mural. Daenerys brushed past a bewildered Jon and stood by me. Surprisingly, my necklace didn’t react like it did before, allowing me to fully see the mural.

There, same emblem as my necklace; two dragons entwined around a sword with a ruby at the hilt in the middle of a dragon eating itself, like the drawing of a snake eating itself. There also seemed to be a message written below, although crudely. The symbols mirrored the glyphs used in Valyrian, enough for someone to decipher it, but almost illegible. I moved the torch closer to the nearly faded symbols. When I had gone to see the paintings, before I was brought here, everything was smudged but still legible while the words were completely faded away.

“What does it say?” Daenerys asks.

I carefully read aloud. “ābrar iā morghon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Life or Death.”

–––

The walk back to the entrance of the cave was quiet, each one of us deep in our heads. When we reached the entrance Davos and Missandei were joined by Varys who held two raven scrolls. He glances over the three of us before bowing, handing off the ravens to Daenerys. She opened one, reading the contents and pocketing it. She eyed the other, this one tied in red ribbon, on the side a word was written. Knowingly, Daenerys handed it off to a confused Missandei.

Daenerys and I smiled at each other, like giggling school girls before she turned her attention back to the people around us.

“The Westerlands and the Reach are now fully secured.” Daenerys announced.

“That means Cersei has the Crownlands and, what? The Stormlands?” I hum. “If they haven’t turned on her yet.”

“She’s surrounded.” Daenerys says, elated.

“Don’t be quick to sound so excited. We still have a long ways to go.” I say. “She still has whatever remains of Euron’s fleet, the remaining Lannister army and the city's watch, and, if she can, which I doubt, the Golden Company.”

“How is she to gain the Golden Company's support if we’ve stopped her plan?” Missandei asks.

She wasn’t wrong. Cersei’s grand plan to gain the Myrish sellsword company’s favor was to sack Highgarden and by herself an army and supposedly elephants, but now that Daenerys and I have foiled that plan, while also dealing a heavy blow to her army, she has almost no options. But we still have to be vigilant. Everything was going well for Daenerys originally, until she was dealt blow after blow to the point of madness.

“There’s other ways,” I answer. “The Red Keep is the Targaryens' second home. Every King from Aegon the first to Aenys has walked those halls. It’s littered with Targaryen artifacts, not to mention that there are nineteen known dragon skulls under the Red Keep, and many more that we don’t know.” I shake my head, “she still has a way to gain their favor.”

Daenerys grimaced at the thought of Cersei being in possession of her family's items whether it be a simple pot or the dragon skulls of all the dragons that had remained after the Doom.

“Then what do we do?” She asks me.

“We wait.” I say. “We out number her, no doubt. But we can’t rush or else we’ll make a mistake and create an opening for her to strike on. We must stay vigilant.”

Everyone agrees, understanding the full degree of things. We had one shot, one opportunity to take the throne, and rushing was not an option.

Daenerys turned to Jon. “Tell your men to continue their mining, if you require more hands, tell me and I’ll put my men to good work.”

“Also,” I turned to Jon. “Light as much of the cave as you can. Preferably past those markings. And tell your men not to touch them, they’re already faded as it is, we don’t need them wiped away.”

“I understand.” Jon bows to Daenerys and I before he and Ser Davos walk away to begin their work.

––

Everyone in the castle is asleep except for Daenerys and I, lounging in the Painted Chamber. The hearth is lit and a platter of bread, fruit, and wine is laid out for us. On the table an Unsullied figurine stood on both Highgarden and Casterly Rock. The Martel sigil stood tall on Sunspeer and a Kraken on the Iron Islands while in the North stood a Direwolf. The only Lion remaining on the map was on King’s Landing.

“All these allies, all these soldiers yet I’m still not close enough to my goal.” Daenerys mumbles, a cup of wine in hand.

“You will,” I plucked a grape off the vine, plopping it into my mouth. “There’s still a long ways to go.”

She takes another swig of wine, “how far ahead are we?”

I lean back on the sofa, head tilted up. “We stopped them mid way to Highgarden, which is about a day and a half ride to and from King's Landing. Capturing Casterly Rock only took half a day, thanks to the new armor and weapons that Tyrion’s raven mentioned. If I had to guess, four or five days.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s not much, but at times of war every day counts.”

We settle into silence, Daenerys planning what to do next while I try to fight off sleep.

“They’ll starve.”

“Hm?” I slowly open my eyes.

“The people of King’s Landing, they’ll starve. We’ve cut off their food by taking both the Rock and the Reach.”

I nod. “We have.”

Daenerys pauses. “But you already knew that.”

“Mm-hmm.” I sighed through my nose, sitting up. “Out of everyone in King’s Landing, Cersei has the most food. And if she’s such a benevolent ruler, then she’ll distribute it to the smallfolk.”

“But she wont.”

“Exactly. Civil unrest will ensue and the people's hate for Cersei will get worse.”

Daenerys sighed, placing the glass of wine on the table. “How did Aegon do it?”

I watched her tired expression carefully. “He had his sisters. Visenya mostly focused on the war aspect of the campaign while Rhaenys focused on allies and the smallfolk.”

“There’s only two of us.”

No there aren’t.

“We’ll see.” I finished the cup of wine. “Speaking of, how is your and Jon Snow’s relationship?”

Daenerys turns a light shade of red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.” I say, not convinced. “Have you shown him the dragons?”

She shook her head. “They’d eat him alive.”

“I won’t be so sure.”

She watches me pick off some more grapes.

“ābrar iā morghon. Life or Death.”

I stopped what I was doing, slowly glancing up to meet Daenerys’ gaze.

“What does it mean?” She asks aloud. “What does any of it mean?”

I take a moment, rubbing my face. “Maybe it’s asking us to pick.”

“Between life or death?”

I hummed. “Do you know what a dragon eating itself means?”

She shakes her head.

“It represents the eternal cycle of rebirth and destruction.” I say, absentmindedly swirling my finger in a circle. “It’s supposed to be a snake, but instead this one is a dragon.”

“And this dragon represents you?”

“No, you. Well, rather your house, I guess.” I dropped my hand, folding them on top of my stomach. “For centuries the Targaryens have tethered between destroying itself and thriving. It’s asking you to pick life or death. Do you want to be the reason why the Targaryens finally tip over and destroy itself or the reason it thrives for generations to come.”

She sighs, frowning. “I came here to reclaim my family’s throne, but now that I’m here I’ve been told of the Army of the Dead and now that the fate of my house rests in my hand.”

I stand up, moving to sit next to her. “I know, it’s a lot. But you can do it.”

Her eyes wander over to the map of Westeros, landing on the Lion on King’s Landing and the Dragon on Dragonstone, facing one another. The stone carved lion mocked the dragon. If it could speak it would definitely be saying something along the lines of “I dare you, pussy. Do something,” but more in an old Westerosi fashion.

“One step at a time,” I reached over for her hand. “Everything will fall into place and you’ll have Cersei at her knees and the throne in your hands.”

a/n: another chapter for you lovely people. i was wondering, now that we're getting closer to climax of the story (night king and cersei) how would you guys feel if i also wrote some side stories that would take place after the main one? smt like life after taking back the throne and what not, lmk ur thoughts.

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia

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damn-stark · 2 years ago

Text

How did you guys like this first chapter??

Chapter 1 Heir to the iron throne

Chapter 1 of Sandstorm

A/N- First chapter I hope you guys like it!

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, death and blood, talks of sexual assault, fluff.

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

Episode- 7x02 & only the beginning of 7x03

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*21 YEARS AGO*

“Mother, when is father going to return?”

He has been gone for months now, you can’t seem to recall what he told you last, but you know you miss him.

“Soon,” your mother assures you and tucks you in bed. “I swear.”

It was always the same answer. Vague, “he’s fighting a war.”.

“Now, Little Sunspot,” your mother continues softly and sits at the other end of your bed. “It’s your turn to pick a story for tonight, so what will it be?”

Without a moment of hesitation you beam at her and give her your answer. “Tell me the story of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters.”

“Oh no!” Rhaenys whines from her side of the room. “Not that one again, Visenya, pick a different one!”

You pull your blanket over your mouth and snuggle under your blankets. “That’s mine and fathers favorite,” you mumble and then look at your mother to bat your lashes. “Please mother, tell it!”

Your mother offers you a sweet smile and nods in agreement. “I will, but I must warn you, I am not as good as Rhaegar is at telling it, but I will try my best.”

——

Home.

What a fickle thing. Home is as some say where your own family is. But for the 21 years you lived at Sunspear with your family; with your late uncle Oberyn and his daughters you thought of as sisters, and with your late uncle Doran and his son, both of them brothers to your mother, both beloved uncles, it seems you could never find such belonging amongst them.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t feel peace and happiness at Sunspear. Because you did. Yet it’s that sense of belonging that you’ve always craved and missed.

It’s a belonging you hope you’ll find here in Dragonstone, your family’s ancestral home, amongst the only living relative you still have from the House of the Dragon, from your fathers side of the family. Amongst your aunt Daenerys Targaryen.

Your great reunion has been a long time coming, years perhaps, but time only seemed fitting now. Especially since it’s not until recently that she herself has arrived back home, at Dragonstone.

A place you were born at and left a long time ago, a place you did not recall in any of your memories.

Coming upon it in the clouds seems so surreal, like a dream maybe, a faded one. It was a lot grayer than you imagined, colder; but that’s maybe due to the fact that you’re several hundred feet in the sky—The ocean's waters are darker as well; a lot more than the ones at Sunspear. It was strange, truly.

Dragonstone seems a lot smaller too—or seemed a lot smaller, but as you began to descend from the sky the castle became larger. Not only that but now that the clouds didn’t hide you anymore something else came to view, three dragons. They all looked dark and small, but the more you began to descend the larger they got, the more you can see their colored scales.

There was a green one like the green fields of grass, but it seems it’s also mixed with bronze. There was a cream and gold one, smaller than the other two. And the third one was larger, a beautiful black dragon with red mixed within it as well. And without fault all three of them screech, sing their song as they catch sight of Eraxis, your beautiful white She-dragon descend to the sand in front of the castle gates.

All three of them circle Eraxis as she lands. And Eraxis just watches them before she sings, a loud echoing and sharp song.

Once you climb down her and hit the sand, you can’t help but smile at her and caress her neck. “It is alright girl. It’s okay, they're family.”

Eraxis turns her head and tilts it before she looks back up to the sky as the dragons keep circling her.

You look up and smile at the three dragons before you drop your eyes to the sand beneath your shoes, and slowly crouch down to scoop up some of the cold sand in your hand and watch each grain drop out between the gaps between your fingers. You proceed to dust off the sand and rise up again until you hear a soft thump on the sand behind you.

“Welcome home,” you break your silence and begin to grin a soft smile. “Rhaenar.” You look back and meet the pair of dark brown eyes of your son.

Said boy lets out a small breath and looks up the castle gates to slowly examine it and watch the guards that stood in front of them. “It’s cold,” he mutters and buttons the top button of his shirt as if that would make any difference

You sigh softly and nod. “Quite is. Come on, let's get inside then.”

Rhaenar drags his hand along Eraxis as he follows you to the gate, but hesitates to depart from her as you reach the guards.

“I’ve come to see the Queen,” you tell them.

The guards eyes shift over your shoulder and land on the white dragon who watches them intently.

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “She won’t do any harm.”

The guard's eyes shift back to you before he shifts to push the doors open, finally letting you see the long and grand stairway that leads up to the castle.

“Come Rhaenar,” you tell the boy who you know has probably only moved an inch from the dragon.

“And if she does not like us?” He asks in a timid voice that let his Dornish accent come out even after he tries to hide it.

You sigh and turn to reach him. “You do not have to worry about that my Sunspot,” you assure him. “Okay? She is family, your grandfather's sister, it will take some time to get used to one another but I am sure she will love you.”

Rhaenar lowers his gaze and nods, letting you smile as you cup his cheek. “And do not hide your accent, what would your uncle say?”

“Targaryens do not talk like me, mother,” he mutters and fists his hands.

You scoff. “Who said that?”

Rhaenar goes quiet, so you grab his face with both hands and press him. “Rhaenar, tell me.”

“Myself, books I have read about our family,” he whispers.

You sigh. “Oh my sweet boy, we talk how we damn want to, no one can tell us otherwise. Not books of old dead ancestors. Be proud you are part Dornish. That only makes you more fierce than any other Targaryen.” You smirk and brush the strands of hair out of his face. “Come. Let’s go.”

You turn back to face the gate and offer him your hand, but he just scoffs and shakes his head.

Now without any more delay and falters, both Rhaenar and you walk up the long stairway, catching Eraxis now flying overhead, keeping her distance from the other dragons flying in the sky. You can see the grand castle getting closer and closer.

Yet, before you can reach the castle gates, an army of unsullied, and tall, dark and muscular men in fur garments walk out and meet you halfway.

“Halt there,” a slender and tall man orders, causing you to do as he said.

“I have come to see the Queen,” you inform him. “I am…family.”

“Doubtful,” you hear a familiar voice interject between the crowd of men. “Who are you…” the moment the men part to the side to let him meet you halfway, the tiny man trails off and looks at you in shock and yet a puzzled look.

You scoff in amusement and smile mischievously as you instantly come to recognize the short man. “I am sorry, Lord Tyrion, it seems the last time we met, my hair was a different color.”

The small man hums and loses the confusion and now looks more serious. “Y/N Sand. Prince Oberyn’s daughter. I thought Dorne was not meant to get here yet.”

You shake your head. “No, but they are on the way, I,” you glance up at Eraxis and smile, “flew here.” You glance down at him. “And my name is not Sand. I am Princess Y/N Targaryen Martell,” you reveal yourself. “If you want to get technical, my true name my father gave me is Visenya, but well…I’ve grown accustomed to my new name.” You sigh. “I am the niece of your Queen. I have come to meet her, to join her.”

Lord Tyrion studies you for a brief moment with doubt lingering in his stare, making you smirk.

“Do you wish for me to prove myself to you, my Lord? Wash my hair? Bleed my veins, or tell my dragon a command?” You retort.

Lord Tyrion sighs and shakes his head. “No. Please none of that. I was just trying to progress the fact that a supposed dead princess is standing right in front of me.” He counters.

You swallow thickly. “I was never presumed dead, was I?” You ask rhetorically. “Nevertheless, I have no reason to lie, nor am I, Eraxis can prove that.”

Tyrion looks up at the white dragon and watches her as she keeps circling the area.

“Well,” Lord Tyrion says and meets your gaze. “Greetings Princess. It is very nice to finally meet you.” He offers you a faint smile. “Now please if you don’t mind please hand your weapons over.”

Usually parting from your weapon is a condition you don’t like to follow, but in this case it’s only fair, besides these large handsome men didn’t seem like they were going to let you pass if you didn’t follow orders.

“Rhaenar,” you say and hold a tall man’s dark gaze as he watches you unsheath your weapons. “Hand over your weapons.”

Without arguing, your son does as he’s told and hands his sword and daggers to the men, leaving you to bend down to unsheath the daggers you have hidden under your dress.

“Dothraki, I assume,” you comment as you keep holding the man’s gaze with a sly smirk.

“Yes,” Lord Tyrion confirms. “The Queens warriors.”

You stand up to your given height and catch the tall, dark man smirking at you as he takes your weapons. You then smirk back at him.

“Follow me,” Lord Tyrion breaks the tension and pulls your gaze back to him. “The Queen is already waiting.”

When you walk inside, the soldiers that had come out to greet you continue to follow you inside. They surround Rhaenar and you, and don't let you take in your surroundings very well.

“I do pardon for such a cold greeting,” Lord Tyrion interjects. “We just don’t know the true intentions of you or your…dragon.”

You scoff. “Do not worry, Lord Tyrion, I understand.”

“Tyrion,” he corrects you. “I am not the Lord of anything now.”

“My apologies.”

“It’s alright,” he assures you and brings his army of men and you to a halt in front of big black doors that lead to only one obvious room, the Throne Room.

Now it’s closer than ever. The moment you have dreamed of since you found out about her being alive. Beside your son Rhaenar, she was the last piece of family you have remaining from your Targaryen bloodline.

Her….

Let’s just say that happiness isn’t the most powerful feeling you feel now. Rhaenar senses that it seems, your nerves, and reaches for your hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

You look down at him and offer him a soft smile before you secure your hold around his hand.

Before the doors can be opened, Tyrion asks for your name and titles. It’s only after you give it to him that the guards begin to push the doors open, letting the gray dimly lit throne come to view.

As you proceed to walk inside, you see her. She’s sitting so poise on that stone throne at the end of the room. You see the color of her silver-white hair that matches yours. You see her fancy black garments and her red cloak elegantly hanging off her chair. You see her pale face, her blue eyes. You see her, your aunt, the Queen. She’s there, she’s real.

“Princess Y/N Targaryen, Princess of Dorne, and Daughter of late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen,” Tyrion announces as you keep slowly walking inside.

Now you notice a bald man, a man you know as Lord Varys. You catch his gaze narrow, and see him take a slow step forward as if fascinated by your presence. You then don’t fail to notice the Queen's face twist to something you can read as disbelief and…anger.

“Prince Rhaenar Targaryen, son of the princess.”

You come to a stop before you can reach the unsullied guards standing in front of the steps that lead to the throne, and let go of Rhaenar’s hand to curtsey; while he bows to the Queen.

“My Queen,” you say and return your gaze back on her as you stand up straight. “It is an honor finally getting to meet you.”

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains.” A woman with brown skin, and dark curly hair announces the mouthful of titles that must be a pain in the ass to see each time.

Nevertheless, Queen Daenerys holds your gaze and retorts. “I am sorry I am not rejoiced by your presence. Until now I had no idea you were alive.” She slightly raises her eyebrows as she seems to pierce her glare in you.

You scoff in amusement. “That’s good, it means my uncles did a good job in hiding me from the world that wanted me dead,” you rebuttal confidently and pass a discreet glance at Tyrion. “But I do swear to you on my fathers memory that I am who I say I am. I mean…if I wasn’t would I have come flying on a dragon?” You smirk. Yet no one else finds it so amusing.

“You have no reason to believe me,” you continue. “But I do know people who know of me.” You glance over at Lord Varys standing a bit a ways from the Queen, and make her gaze drift to the man.

“Lord Varys, can you attest to her word? Can you prove that who stands before me really is a niece I have thought long dead?” She asks and looks at you.

The Lord slowly steps forward and stops at the top step to study you from closer.

“Yes, I can,” Tyrion speaks up and walks to the top step. “I can attest to her word. I have met her before. However, back then she went by another name.”

You scoff and nod. “Yes. Back then I went by Sand. I was just another bastard daughter to my uncle Oberyn Martell, but it was for my own safety. After all, it is his family who wanted me dead.”

Tyrion nods and accepts your accusation. “Yes. It was my family.”

You clench your jaw and let out a deep sigh.

“Her uncle died for me,” Tyrion continues. “He was a good man. That is why I trust her word.”

The Queen slowly stands up from the chair and begins to head your way, yet she stops at Tyrion’s side. “If it is you. If you do have a dragon, where have you been this entire time?” She asks you.

You clasp your hands in front of you and part your lips to speak, but then Lord Varys speaks up before you could. “She was hiding, by her uncle's demand. Sworn to keep her identity a secret until the right time came. As was I.”

The Queen shifts her head to the side to look at her Lord.

“She is who she says she is. She is Princess Visenya Targaryen, daughter of your brother Rhaegar Targaryen. She is blood of your blood, My Queen.”

You shake your head and correct them. “No. It’s Y/N. Not Visenya. Not anymore.”

The Queen begins to glare at the man for a second before she finally returns her gaze to you and begins to step down the steps to meet you halfway.

She then continues to study you, to check out the gold dragon scale corset over your red dress, the golden rings on your fingers, the golden snake around your bicep. She looks at your silver-white hair probably trying to see if your hair color was actually real and not fake, or if you were actually real or not. Her eyes then shift to Rhaenar for a brief second before returning to look at you again.

You don’t do anything, you let her take her time, and take this time to study her too; to realize how beautiful she is, how tiny she is as well now that she’s not sat on the throne.

“Who might you be?” The Queen breaks her silence and looks back at Rhaenar.

Said boy bows and then tries his best to once again hide his Dornish accent. “I am Prince—”

You clear your throat to correct him, making the Queen glance at you in confusion before returning to look at your boy.

“I am Prince Rhaenar Sand, your Grace,” he shares in his normal voice, and this time you glance at him slightly concerned since he refers to himself as Sand.

The Queen scoffs softly and her lips are just faintly showing a smile. “Sand?” She questions.

Rhaenar nods. “I am a bastard,” he tells her, making you sigh.

“And like I have told him before,” you interject. “That does not matter. That does not change who you are descended from.”

Daenerys nods. “Your mother is correct,” she agrees in your defense. “You are still the blood of the dragon aren't you? You are a Targaryen first and foremost.”

Rhaenar shrugs. “I suppose.”

The Queen offers a soft laugh before she looks at you. “Let’s take a walk.”

You nod, and without a fault when you walk out, the curly headed woman, the Unsullied, and the Dothraki warriors follow you out and walk behind you like lurking shadows. It’s something you have never grown unaccustomed to after your years of being somewhat free in Dorne.

“What’s your dragon's name?” The Queen asks once you’re out of the castle and walking up a stairwell that leads to some place you can’t see yet.

“Her name is Eraxis,” you share with a faint smile.

Queen Daenerys eyes snap to you, and you catch her surprise at your comment.

“Your dragon is a female?” She questions.

You nod. “Yes. She is. Or at least that’s what I like to say, I don’t think we can really place a gender on a dragon.” You smile.

The Queen nods. “Yes, I suppose we can’t.”

A screech sounds from the sky before Eraxis flies down past you. Both the Queen and you look up to watch her, to admire how her white scales glimmer like diamonds against the sun's rays; to watch as she let her large wings soared, and how her horned tail swung to the side as she flew up.

“She’s…quite big,” the Queen points out with an admiring smile. “How old is she?”

Once Eraxis passes, the Queen's black dragon flies past you to follow Eraxis up in the sky.

“She is fifteen,” You answer softly, and catch her swallow thickly before she brings you to a stop so you can watch the both of your dragons as they begin to twirl up to the sky together, like if they’re dancing. Like if they were familiar with one another already.

“It seems Drogon is quite taken by Eraxis already,” the Queen says. “That should be good.”

You rest your hands on the stone before you and nod. “It is. It means Eraxis won’t be alone anymore.” You look down to look at the Queen. “What are the names of your other dragons?”

The Queen drops her gaze and answers, “the green one is Rhaegal, I named him after your father.”

Your smile falters, and your eyes go soft.

“And the gold and cream one is Viserion, named after my brother, Viserys.”

Ah. Him. The youngest brother. The uncle you only have one memory of, and it’s not a pleasant one.

“If I may ask,” the Queen continues. “How was Eraxis born to you?”

The story is something you hardly know how to explain to make it sound sane. Yet it is one people ask for a lot.

“To be honest,” you laugh softly. “It’s going to sound funny, but…” you avert your gaze and begin messing with your rings. “…a dream…”

You hear the Queen's feet shift against the stone ground at the sound of your comment.

“…it was a dream I scarcely remember anymore. But it was of my dragon being born from fire and blood.” You let out a deep breath and slowly look up to once again meet her gaze. Now you notice her look slightly disbelieved.

“It was fate then,” the Queen interjects softly.

You shrug and smile faintly at your rings. “Perhaps.”

You could tell her what you did to have the egg hatch, every detail. You can tell her that even if you don’t recall every detail of the dream, you still have a fragment of it painted so it could keep your mind from clouding at that time.

Yet you don’t.

At least it doesn’t seem so fit yet. Instead you let the conversation drift, you let her continue to lead you up the steps. And it’s now that you can see you’re being walked to some green cliffs where you spot her two other dragons resting.

“I have heard a lot of great things about you, not only because I have made it my job to keep myself informed, but word travels. I am more than in awe, I am fascinated,” you share sweetly, and make her smile a lot more timidly.

Yet when you reach the cliff her smile begins to falter, a serious and almost threatening look paints on her face as she comes to a stop and faces the ocean.

“If you have been alive this whole time why have you not tried to take what’s yours,” she says seriously. “You have the right claim, you, my brother's last living heir.”

You look away from her and face the ocean as well to watch the horizon as you think of what to say. Something that would sound like you’re not lying. “There’s many reasons, one, I am a woman. My claim is not as strong.”

“But you have a son,” she cuts in.

You nod and peer back at Rhaenar, catching him watching the dragons with awe. “A bastard. In Dorne they might not be shamed, but here they are. They would never accept my son, even if he is my fathers grandson.” You sigh and face her. “There is also time,” you reveal carefully. “My uncle had a plan, we couldn’t just risk ourselves by flying down to Kings Landing and burning everything. We needed a lot of time, ally’s, and resources. I actually was meant to marry your brother, but,” you scoff with a playful smile on your face, and catch her stare. “Before the proposal was officially announced, well, we heard the news he passed.”

The Queen scoffs and smirks. “Maybe it was a good thing,” she interjects, making you slightly furrow your brows in confusion. “I loved my brother, but I don’t think he would’ve made a good husband. Especially not to someone who already had a dragon before him.”

You laugh softly. “Is that so?” You query. “Well I for one was quite excited. More so for the promise of seeing the family I thought I had lost.”

The Queen lowers her gaze before she goes serious again, letting you continue.

“Anyway, before much else could be done my uncle…died, and the dream died with him.” You swallow thickly and let out a deep sigh. “Albeit, I can’t say I ever shared his dream, that's another reason I haven’t tried to claim what’s “mine”. I never had a desire to rule. Not after what happened. That’s why I have not taken the throne, that’s why I am here. Why, I sent Dorne to ally with you.” You meet her gaze and raise your head proudly.

“I don’t want the throne for myself. I want to help you take it,” you share confidently. “I want to take back what is ours with fire and blood, I want Cersei to pay for what her family did to mine. I know,” you sigh. “You have no reason to trust me, but know that I am done hiding and tired of doing nothing. I want my son to be proud of me, I don’t want him to hide anymore either. I just want to help you, at your side, united like family. Just like how Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters did, together.”

Daenerys continues to look at you with a threatening and piercing glare, she lets out a deep breath and looks past her shoulder. And without saying anything both her dragons walk over, causing Rhaenar to step back. When her dragons stand behind her you see the same burning, piercing glare that their mother carries.

“If it’s true, bend the knee,” she orders in a menacing tone. “Swear to me that you nor your son will go against me, that you will fight alongside me and help me win this war to take back what belongs to our family. Swear to me, Y/N Targaryen, and you and your son will have a place in my court. You will keep your title as Princess, your son as Prince. If not….” She pauses and her dragons begin growl. Yet you don’t react out of fear, you hold her gaze and stay calm.

“…I would hate to consider my last living relatives as traitors.” She finishes.

You look back at Rhaenar, and he meets your gaze, and together without hesitation you get down on one knee and look up to meet her gaze. “I swear to you,” you assure her. “I swear I will have no ill intentions. I will not fight against you. I will fight at your side.”

Daenerys begins to smirk and continues to walk over to you to offer you her hand. You’re confused at first, but when you take it she helps you up to your feet and keeps you in front of her for a moment, before she pulls you in for an embrace.

You’re caught off guard for a brief second, but once you feel her grip tighten you return the embrace and clutch onto her with relief, and joy.

Finally after years, here she is. You’re finally together.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Nights were already hard to sleep. Returning to Dragonstone sounded like it could be a solution to your restless nights, to the nightmares that plague your mind, but the bitter night air made it harder. There was some reassurance in the morning when you woke up and saw that meeting Daenerys wasn’t some fever dream. She was real.

As slow as things are between her and you currently considering you only just met, she was a comfort, that instant familiarity. Plus, you shared the restless night and got to speaking about everything you were missing about her current progress of the war, you spoke of other mindless things until the sun broke the sky. After the sun started to rise from the earth, you shared a mutual craving and spent no time finding your dragons.

“What’s on Eraxis back?” Daenerys points to the saddle on your dragon's back as she lowers her neck down to the ground.

“A saddle,” you say slowly and find it surprising she had to ask. “I can’t ride her bareback, not anymore at least, I have the scars on my thighs to prove that,” you laugh softly and approach Eraxis to grab one of her many horns that align her neck. “It helps me steer her too. And since Rhaenar rides her with me, I had it made so he wouldn’t fall off.”

Daenerys approaches Eraxis and then glances at you. “May I?” She asks and points to your dragon's body.

You nod, and watch Daenerys turn and begin to smile at your dragon as she carefully begins to stroke a part of her neck.

“I find it quite easy to ride Drogon with no saddle,” she shows off, making you scoff in amusement. “Then again it’s not like I have had much of an education besides what feels natural, and the few books I did have.”

You hum and smile at her. “Well don’t worry, I am here now. I can teach you all I’ve learned about our family.”

Daenerys eyes drift to you and her gaze softens as a softer smile appears on her lips.

“Now,” you say playfully and begin to climb onto Eraxis. “Let’s fly, yes?” You smirk down at her, and Daenerys begins to grin before she rushes over to Drogon to climb on him.

Since this won’t be a long flight, you don’t bother restraining yourself on her, you just climb on your saddle and grab your handles before you speak to Eraxis in High Valyrian. “<Fly, girl.>”

Without hesitation Eraxis begins to run off the hill, and Drogon follows, creating thunderous stomps on the green hill until both dragons flap their wings and take flight.

At first Daenerys and you are riding side to side, glancing once at one another with playful looks as both dragons gain more momentum and fly higher. However, it’s once Eraxis reaches the clouds that you turn her to her side, exposing her belly to Drogon, before you then drift to the left to hide within the clouds.

Drogon calls out for Eraxis, most likely to know her whereabouts, but Eraxis stays quiet and flaps her wings, blowing air and clouds behind her before she twirls upward rapidly and shoots out above Drogon. Once again the black dragon calls out, and this time Eraxis responds. You then lift your body off the saddle to peek down, catching Daenerys urge Drogon forward so she could lead, instead of being right under you.

You grin at the action and push the handle forward, causing Eraxis to flap her wings harder and get ahead of Drogon with ease. Daenerys looks up and sees, and then as if they have been mentally communicating, Drogon flies up.

Before they both could lose them, you motion Eraxis to fly up as well. Now both dragons have their bellies exposed to one another as you all fly up.

The dragons screech, and you snicker before you lean forward and exclaim happily, “<Dracarys!>”

Eraxis blows out a cloud of fire, and as Drogon was going to approach it, you make Eraxis drift to the side so you both could then begin diving down.

Daenerys doesn’t notice you flying in front of her anymore until she’s past the fire cloud. And when she sees you and Eraxis diving down, she beams and makes Drogon do the same.

Since gravity is what is pulling you down, Daenerys and Drogon don’t take long to catch up, but Eraxis and you do end up beating her to the surface of the ocean water. Albeit before Eraxis could splash in, she instead flies up and only lets her body barely skim above the water, creating ripples on the surface as she flies past.

Drogon and Daenerys on the other hand drift to the side and he skims the tip of his wing in the water as he flies at his side. When he fixes himself he then flies at your side, letting Daenerys and you turn your heads to smile at one another.

Now as little as you have known one another, there was a sense of a connection no one else can understand. For the first time you both could share the joys of flying with another soul, for the first time it wasn’t just the two of you alone in the skies with your dragons. It was now you and her. Her and you. Together.

However, as you flew, as you got closer to the castle, you could now spot Dorne, Greyjoy, and Tyrell ships sailing to Dragonstone. Daenerys sees them too, but instead of flying above them like you, she flies ahead without you. Yet you don’t stay just above them for long, you instead fly to the first Dorne ship leading the way and stay flying by it.

And since only the people you were truly closest to, and a few trusted guards knew of Eraxis, those who didn’t gawked as they saw you on a dragon, and as they literally saw a dragon. Those who did know about Eraxis however, like Tyene, looked excited and happy to see her again. Your other sisters climbed out to deck to watch Eraxis too, but unlike Tyene, they watched with more calm and collected demeanors.

Once you landed on the sand to wait for them to get to shore, Tyene shares that same excitement for your dragon when she arrives. She didn’t even bother to greet you.

“Eraxis!” She exclaims and rushes past you to reach Eraxis. And since Tyene, Nymaria, Tyrstane, and Obara helped you raise her, Eraxis was comfortable around their presence and didn't fail to let herself get caressed.

“This is where you wanted to come to so badly?” Nymeria asks in a teasing manner as she and Obara approach you after they climb off the boat.

You look back at the castle gates and nod. “This is where I was born…albeit I do prefer Dornes heat, and the Water Gardens.”

“It’s very bland,” Obara doesn't hold back from saying.

You hum as you can’t help but agree since you are used to more color because of where you were raised.

“How is it going?” You hear your late uncle's paramour, Ellaria, ask as she approaches all of you.

You glance at her and swallow thickly before you speak. “Good. I’ve made peace with my aunt, we were just bonding.” You meet her gaze briefly, but can’t stand looking at her for too long because all you see when you look at her is her with a knife in your uncle's stomach; all you can see is his death, you remember him dying in your arms after you were too late to save him.

You remember pain and grief, and feel it all over again. Ellaria is only alive now because of the love your uncle Oberyn had for her, you only tolerate her because she's Tyene’s mother. Otherwise she would no longer be here.

“Rhaenar is inside,” you say and look back at your sisters. “He’s excited to see you all again. It’s as if he hasn’t seen you in months.”

Obara smirks at the mention, and before you could spend more time out in the chilly air they follow you inside.

——

*LATER*

“If you want the Iron Throne, take it,” Yara Greyjoy tells Daenerys, making her turn to face the table you're all gathered around. “We have an army, a fleet, and four dragons now. We should hit Kings Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

You scoff to yourself and drop your gaze to the table.

“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorm,” Tyrion protests.

“It’s called war,” Ellaria interjects. “You don’t have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

You roll your eyes and proceed to lift your leg over the other.

“I know how you wage war,” Tyrion snaps. “We don’t poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent.”

“She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannister’s,” Ellaria says, and to some degree you can agree with her. But not about what she did, not about Myrcella; like Tyrion said she was innocent, she was also never cruel, not to you, not to Rhaenar. You can understand Tyrion’s anger. Yet you can’t accept their bickering, not if you’re meant to be ally’s now.

“My great regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you,” Ellaria continues to spat, finally causing you to cut in.

“Ellaria, that's enough. Please. Tyrion is the hand of the Queen, you will treat him with respect.” Without bothering to look back you glance over at Tyrion and sigh. “More so because we both know my uncle died fairly. Tyrion is no one to blame for my uncle's carelessness. Besides…” you peer back to side eye her. “You would find it wise to try and forgive him just as I have forgiven you for what you have done.”

There is a bit of silence for a lingering second before Ellaria talks back. “Yes, Princess.”

You hum and let the meeting continue.

“I am not here to be Queen of the ashes,” Daenerys finally inputs.

“That’s very nice to hear,” Lady Olenna of House Tyrell interjects. “Of course, I can’t remember a Queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her. The nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they’re all just children, really. They won’t obey you unless they fear you.”

You glance down, clasp your hands over your knee and let out a small sigh. “May I add something?” You interject and gain everyone’s attention.

“Go on,” Daenerys encourages you.

You sit back and share what comes to mind. “A century back, when our ancestors were fighting amongst each other in the Dance of Dragons…it’s those same commoners that raided the Dragonpit and killed our dragons.” You glance at Daenerys, and then at Lady Olenna. “And I know for damn sure that dragons were feared back then as they are now. Burning Kingslanding down will turn everyone against us. We have to be smarter. We have to make them fear us without killing the people.”

Daenerys nods in comprehension and pulls her gaze away from you to look at Lady Olenna. “I’m grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your counsel,” Daenerys says. “I’m grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me, I will not attack King's Landing. We,” she makes her word clear. “Will not attack King's Landing.”

You nod in agreement, but Lady Olenna on the other hand doesn’t seem so convinced.

“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne?” She questions. “By asking nicely?”

“We will lay siege to the capital surrounding the city on all sides,” Daenerys shares. “Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people.”

“But we won’t use Dothraki and Unsullied,” Tyrion adds after your aunt. “Cersei will try to rally the Lord of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty.” He begins to walk around the table as he continues to speak. “Their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.”

“And I suppose we’re providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria questions,

Tyrion nods. “You are,” he agrees. “Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear.”

You slowly begin to put your leg back and lean in as your interest is piqued.

“And her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army,” Tyrion continues, “back up to King's Landing. The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms United against Cersei.”

“So,” Lady Olenna quips. “Your master plan is to use our armies. Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?”

Tyrion places down a dragon figurine that represents Daenerys and her people as he begins to explain and walk again. “The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Greyworm—” you have learned that he is one the Queen's most trusted war advisors, and the commander of the Unsullied army, an old friend now to describe it better.

“…will dial for the Rock and take it,” Tyrion continues and knocks down a lion figure to place down the dragon, leaving a silence to linger thereafter as everyone takes in what was explained.

Yet, it’s you who breaks that silence rather quickly to comment on something else. “In regards to the upcoming siege on Kings Landing, I will meet up with them on Eraxis.”

Both Lady Greyjoy, and Ellaria turn their heads to look at you, and agree with their look alone.

Yet...“no, that would not be wise,” Tyrion interjects. “People still believe you’re dead, Princess. We can use that to our advantage.”

You scoff and argue, “what better way to reveal myself than to stand with my people? Cersei’s fleet will be there as well, I will fight with my people.”

Tyrion looks back at Daenerys to share a quick look before they look to Lord Varys, and all come to a speechless agreement.

“Go then,” Daenerys says. “When the day comes you can meet with the army and stand to fight alongside them.”

You offer her a kind smile and nod. “Thank you, my Queen.”

Daenerys offers you a nod herself, and then rather than letting the meeting proceed you share one more question.

“What about the North? Have we heard anything from the King?”

Lord Varys steps forward and responds this time. “No. Not yet.”

You hum and sit back to continue on the matter. “Well, as we well know, the North is made up of proud people. The Starks as well have just taken back their house, what will we do if they want to keep being an independent Kingdom?”

“You have dragons,” Lady Greyjoy interjects.

You scoff. “So did Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters when they wanted Dorne to pledge their allegiance to them. What did we do? We resisted for years.” You remind them.

Daenerys slightly narrows her gaze and questions your comment. “What is it you’re trying to say then?”

You begin to smirk and meet her gaze. “Well if they come on their own accord. Listen to them. I doubt they’ll come just to bend the knee, no, they probably want something. If they resist.” You pause briefly. “Then offer them a marriage proposal. What better way to unite the grand Kingdoms than through marriage of the Queen and King?”

Daenerys quirks her brow in disbelief to your suggestion, and Tyrion speaks for her. “That could work. Winter is among us. They will need food for their people, what better way to sway them than to bargain. It will be hard to decline.

Daenerys swallows thickly and interjects. “I hear you, Princess. I agree, but we will decide what to do when the time comes.”

You hesitate before you nod agreement, causing the silence to return for a moment before Daenerys continues to interject. “Do I have your support?”

Lady Greyjoy steps up first. “You have mine,” she adds.

Without hesitation you follow, “Dorne is with you, Your Grace.”

Lastly Olenna nods agreement, and with that this meeting is settled.

“Thank you all,” Daenerys ends the meeting. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?”

You get out of your seat and walk out of the room alongside Ellaria since you’re both going to the same place.

And it’s a quiet walk at first, you both wait for everyone else to pass by and get out of earshot first. Even then when you were approaching the hall your family was in, neither of you could right away say what you both had to say.

First actually, when you were reaching your chambers, you spoke to the guard bringing in your things. “How are my paintings? Did they make it alright?”

The Dornish guard nods. “Yes, my Lady.”

“Princess,” Ellaria corrects him. “Y/N is a Princess, you shall address her as such.

The guard looks nervously between her and you and immediately bows his head. “My apologies, my Princess.”

You shake your head. “It is quite alright. Go on please.”

The guard nods. “Neither your, nor the…Prince’s items got damaged.”

You offer him a faint smile. “Thank you,” you say and then continue to the hall.

This time Ellaria finds the courage to speak. “How can you not be angry? How can you even look at him after what he’s done to your family?”

You sigh and begin to mess with the rings on one hand. “You know why, Ellaria. He is not mine to make leave, nor is he at fault for my uncle's death. You have accepted the facts of his death. We were there that day, we saw.” You glance over at her, and she meets your gaze. “In regards to…my mother and siblings, it is other Lannisters I set my anger on. I suggest you do the same if you want to keep having a chair at that council, I can't let your anger get in the way.”

Ellaria lets her gaze linger on you as she scowls for a brief moment before she nods. “I will try,” she says.

You nod and offer her a faint smile. “That's all I ask,” you tell her before you open the hall doors and make yourselves known to your sisters and your son.

“Mother!” Rhaenar greets and breaks away from his fighting stance to run over and greet you.

You grin down at him. “Hello, my Sunspot, what have you been doing?”

He points back to Obara. “Aunt Obara and I were just training.”

You smirk and ruffle his dark curly hair. “Did she kick your ass?” You tease him as you make your way to the wine tray.

Obara begins to snicker. “He held his own for a few minutes. It is a much better improvement.”

You grab a cup and serve yourself some Dornish wine before walking over to sit with your back facing the fire so it’s easier to face your family. Whilst Rhaenar returns to Obara to pick up the stuff they had around them.

“Dorne will be part of the siege on King’s Landing,” you share with your sisters.

Tyene stands from her chair and begins to smirk. “Are we?” She questions. “Does that mean we can finally kill Cersei?”

You snicker. “I wish it were that easy. Albeit if all goes well, we will be one step closer.”

“Will you accompany us?” Nymeria asks.

You nod and take a sip of wine before speaking. “I will. Once you reach King’s Landing I will go on Eraxis and help fight the enemy fleet.”

“We will be done in no time then,” Tyene says cockily.

You smirk and nod in agreement. You then proceed to take a longer sip of wine, and when you set your cup down you share a thought you've had since you knew you were coming here.

“I have a proposal for you, sisters.” You sit up and look between the three of them. “After this siege, I want the three of you to join me in the fights to come. I want you to be by my side.”

“Like what? Your ladies in waiting?” Obara asks teasingly.

You scoff and shake your head. “Not quite. More so my protectors. I may have Eraxis, but one can never be so sure now that I am going to reveal myself to Westeros again. Of course only if you want, I won’t force you.”

All three girls look at one another, and Tyene looks at her mother before the three of them look back at you.

“I will join you,” Tyene says first. “Father would have wanted us to stick together. Besides,” she begins to smirk mischievously. “It seems there’s a lot of Dothraki men here I would like to get to know.”

You smile, and then look at Nymeria as she interjects. “I will also join your side.”

Lastly, Obara walks over to be in your pherial view and says her response. “I will also join you too, sister.”

“Yes!” Rhaenar exclaims as he runs over to be a part of the conversation. “Does it mean we won’t have to be apart?”

You glance at him and assure him. “Yes. Exactly.”

Rhaenar grins with excitement, causing Tyene to ruffle his hair whilst he turns to face Ellaria. “What about you aunt Ellaria?” He asks. “Will you stay with us?”

Ellaria draws in a deep breath and shakes her head. “No, little warrior,” she sighs. “I will have to stay with our armies. But I will come see you frequently.”

Rhaenar gets comforted by her response and then takes a seat amongst you all.

In the meanwhile you lift your cup of wine and offer a toast. “Thank you, sisters. And to our bond, may it only get stronger.”

All three of them lift their cups and Tyene is the one that interjects with excitement. “To us! And to our battles to come!”

——

*A YEAR BACK*

The doors locked. The windows are sealed.

Why—

Footsteps are approaching the door.

“Rhaenar?” You call out in hopes it’s your son. “Rhaenar, is that you?”

The footsteps stop and a thud sounds at your door. You run back to your door and try to open them again, but to no avail.

“Rhaenar?” You call again and try to peek through the doors creak. But there’s nothing there. You get on your hands and knees to peek at the creek below and see only boots.

“Hey! Let me out! Guards! Let me out!” You yell and jump back up to your feet. “What’s the meaning of this?!” You pound your fists on the door before you begin to kick it. “Let me out! Let me out! Let me out or I will feed you to my dragon!”

There's a shift at the sound of that threat. Yet the damned door remains closed.

“Do you hear me out there? I will feed you to my dragon,” you curse and step back to look around your room for anything that could knock this door down. “Let me talk to my uncle!” You yell as you search your room until you think of your daggers, and sneak over to snatch them from the chest.

“I will give you one more chance,” you sneer and tiptoe back to the door to pick the lock. “Open…” you pause as you hear the lock click. “The door,” you mutter before you throw the doors open, startling the guards that were for some reason placed outside.

“What's going on?” You demand to know from the guards as you point your daggers at them. “Where is my uncle?”

The guard to the right clenches his jaw and gives you an answer. “Go back to your room, Princess.”

You scoff and then lunge at him to throw him back to the wall and point your blade at his throat. “Tell me now,” you sneer and side-eye the other guard who keeps his hands out to show that he won’t hurt you. “What is going on? It’s only a matter of minutes I assume before my dragon comes to me. Should I throw you to her first? Or you,” you point at the watching guard.

“The prince's chambers, he’s there,” the watching guard spits out.

“See,” you scoff and drop your dagger before letting the guard go and stepping back. “Easy. Next time you disobey, I will make Eraxis eat you.” You offer them a sweet smile before you turn and storm over to your uncle's chambers.

And as you pass halls and step outside, guards begin to look at you weirdly, they pass odd looks between one another and give you second looks as they watch you storm past them. The closer you get to your uncle's chambers, the more suspicious they get. They even try to stop you, but you just ignore them and quicken your pace.

Once you begin to see the pool outside his quarters, the guards try to grab you, but you just swiftly slip past them without hassle.

“Princess wait!” One of them yells before you can turn the corner of the patio to reach your uncle's quarters. “Princess!”

He runs after you, and as guards around his pool see you approaching, they unstiffen from their stance and try to rush over to you. Yet you just run past them until you get to the steps of the deck. That’s when you notice the dead Maester and a pool of blood dripping down the steps. As you slowly look up you see Areo Hotah dead next to where Tyene is standing. Next to her is Ellaria pulling a dagger out of your uncle.

“No!” You immediately cry out and gain the attention of your cousin Tyene. “No!” You try to run over to him as he falls to the ground, but Tyene runs over to hold you back. “No!” You sob.

Your uncle Doran flips over and reaches his hand out to you. You try to pull away from Tyene, but guards then help her keep you away.

“When was the last time you left this palace?” Ellaria snaps at your uncle. “You don’t know your own people. Their disgust for you.”

Your uncle begins to cough out blood, but he keeps trying to drag himself away, making you try to squirm with more force to try and reach him.

“Elia Martell, raped and murdered, and you did nothing,” Ellaria spats out, causing you to hit the guards harder. “Oberyn Martell butchered, and you did nothing. You cloud your niece's head with that same ignorance.”

Your uncle flips over again and begins to pant.

“…You’re not a Dornishman. You’re not our prince.” Ellaria finishes spitting out.

“My son Trystane,” your uncle mutters.

Ellaria turns around and scoffs. “Your son is weak just like you. And weak men will never rule Dorne again,” she says spitefully. And finally the guards let you free so you quickly rush over to your uncle and fall down on your knees next to him.

“Uncle,” you cry and cradle him in your arms. “I’m here. I’m here. I will help.”

Your uncle groans, and slowly pulls his bloody hand away from his wound to cup your cheek. “My sweet y/n, you have the power to change the world, do not let vengeance cloud your judgment.”

You sob and shake your head. “I won’t, I swear to you,” you whisper, knowing deep in your heart that there was no saving him anymore.

He lets out labored breath and offers you a wobbly smile. “You have your mothers smile, you know that?” He whispers. “Smile for me, one last time, will you?”

A sob escapes your lips, but you muster a wobbly smile before he takes his last breath and drops his hand from your cheek.

“No,” you mutter as tears stream down your face, and your heart feels as if someone had just stabbed it. “No, no, no!”

“It was for your own good,” you hear Ellaria say from behind you. “Now you can come out of your uncle's shadow. You can finally fulfill your destiny and take back what is yours!”

You swipe your hands over your uncle's eyes to close them, and then slowly put him down.

“Now you can stop living in fear,” she continues.

You let out a shaky breath and drop your head, choosing to ignore her, choosing not to act out on your desire to stab her through the heart.

“Y/N,” she mutters and grabs your shoulder. “Now…” she trails off as the sound of flapping wings sounds from the sky only seconds before Eraxis reveals herself and lands down on the ground, only barely managing to fit her body in the courtyard.

You keep staring at the ground regardless and only hear her growl at Ellaria as she stands stiffly behind you.

“Sister!” Tyene cries out, but doesn’t move.

Eraxis breath slowly unfurls out of her nose, blowing back Ellaria’s dress.

“I watched my own mother die,” you whisper in a quivering voice. “Every night in my dreams. Of course I didn’t know what it meant then, I was only four,” you feign a laugh. “And well it was only fragments of her death, pieces I couldn’t place together. Not until years later. And now it lives over and over in my mind.” You stand up from the ground and let out a shaky breath.

“Do you want to know how that feels, losing a mother?” You ask Tyene, and turn, seeing Eraxis keep her eyes pierced on Ellaria.

“Please,” Tyene pleads to you.

“Do not hate your sisters,” Ellaria interjects, making your eyes snap to her. “They had no fault in it. It was all my doing.”

You swallow thickly and slowly begin to walk around her. “Yes,” you say. “I figured as much. Only you are capable enough to fill their heads with poison.” As you reach Eraxis side you pierce your glare on Ellaria as well, mirroring your dragon's same burning glare.

Ellaria scoffs and lifts her head with confidence. “Tell me what you would have done if I hadn’t killed your uncle?” She spats. “He was a plague. You would have kept hiding, kept dying your hair pretending you’re someone you're not, you would have kept hiding your dragon. You would have kept living in ignorance here. It’s time to wake up y/n!”

Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps you have lived your entire life in fear. But she still killed him. And you still couldn’t avoid it.

“I am only sparing your life because of Tyene,” you change the subject, and Eraxis begins to lose her scowl and begins to whimper and lean her head against you. “Betray me again and I will burn you alive.”

Eraxis pulls her snout out the deck and then lifts her head as you walk over to begin mounting her.

Once you’re on your saddle you grab your handles, and Eraxis flies off.

——

*NOW*

“Lower,” you tell Rhaenar and walk over to push his arms down a bit lower. “Pull your arms down.”

The boy sighs. “Uncle Oberyn said this way,” he tries to argue.

You nod and move back. “Yes, I understand, but there are many fighting styles, you have come close to mastering his way, now you must use different tactics,” you advise him and slide your foot back to once again stand in your fighting stance. “If you want to become a great warrior you must know much more.”

Rhaenar sighs and mirrors your stance. He then looks at your blade and lunges, but you quickly change your stance and swipe off his feet.

“That’s no—” Rhaenar cuts himself off and instead pushes himself to his feet.

You drop your head and laugh softly to yourself.

“You did better,” Daenerys tries to assure him as she watches him train—out of simple curiosity she said. “Less complaining this time.”

You chuckle before you turn around and watch the boy scratch the back of his head whilst he walks to grab a spear off the rack.

“Perhaps the young prince could spar with me soon,” Greyworm offers from the Queens side, as he too was curious to watch your morning training session.

You glance at the soldier and then at your son. “How does that sound, Rhaenar, hm? Maybe Greyworm will be a much kinder teacher than I am.”

Rhaenar turns with his spear in hand and offers the soldier a grin that goes from ear to ear. “Yes I would love it!” He exclaims happily.

Greyworm smiles faintly and nods. Daenerys smiles at the boy, and you part your lips to tell him something, but the door then opens and Tyrion and Qhono, the Dothraki Lieutenant, walks in behind him.

“My Queen, Princess,” Tyrion says, and gains the attention of everyone in the room. “Your guest ship has been spotted docking at shore.”

Daenerys nods in comprehension, letting The Hand turn to leave. Qhono albeit lingers and meets your gaze, making you smirk at him before you turn to face Rhaenar. Daenerys catches your interaction but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Go change out of your training clothes,” you tell the boy. “When you’re done go to the Throne room.”

Without argument Rhaenar puts away his sparring weapons and does as he’s told.

Before long you also go and change out of your training outfit, deciding to put on a long red dress that perhaps is too revealing for the chilly weather of Dragonstone. The long matching red cloak that attaches under the golden dragon scales on your shoulders provides some warmth, but then again you never much mind being too cold or too hot in something if it means looking good.

And sure, The King of the North wasn’t yours to impress, if it came to it it’s not you he’d marry, but you still do choose to show off your golden chained gloves that connects to your golden rings, and matches with the golden breast plates that was elegantly carved to go over the dress. You still didn’t choose to cover your exposed chest, or a part of your sides, or your arms. Because the truth is, if it were a choice to choose between armor and dresses, you’d choose the expensive and most beautiful dresses, even for dragon riding.

And well there is maybe Qhono that you are trying to impress.

“Come,” you call Rhaenar over once you walk in the Throne room.

Rhaenar sighs and lets you walk to where he was standing already.

“Your pin is all crooked,” you let him know and unpin the dragon pin to correct it. “There. Better. Handsome.” You pat his shoulder.

Rhaenar rolls his eyes out of embarrassment, making you laugh softly before you fix his hair.

“Mother,” he whispers sharply and pulls back to then glance back at the Queen.

Daenerys catches his embarrassed glance and shoots him a teasing smile.

“Fine,” you scoff lightheartedly. “I’ll go.” You then go and stand in your spot to wait patiently.

Once those doors open, the first one to walk in is Qhono, Tyrion, and Daenerys most trusted advisor Missendei of Naath follow, but you watch Qhono, as he watches you while he walks past you. You don’t notice the King of The North right away, not even when Missendei says all of Daenerys titles, you instead then look at your rings when Qhono is out of sight until you hear your name.

“…and the Princess Y/N Targaryen Martell, Princess of Dorne, daughter of late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”

You finally blink and look up, finally taking in the sight of the King of the North, and noticing that his eyes are already on you. They were on you for most the time he’s been in here but you didn’t notice, not until now.

Until now you see that he isn’t as tall as you imagined Northern men to be, he isn’t as musclary built, or as hairy. He’s quite small, more lean. His hair is dark, as dark as perhaps a moonless night. His eyes aren’t rough, they’re soft and a very pretty dark brown you can get lost in. He has soft features, scars on his face that he wears more than well.

The King of the North is handsome and breath-catching. Much to your surprise.

“And Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, son of the princess.” Missendei finishes introducing everyone that she needed to, leaving a very long silence as the King of the North looks at his advisor.

“This is Jon Snow,” the advisor reveals, letting said man glance at the Queen. “He’s King in the North.”

You smile at the introduction and once again catch the softened gaze of Jon Snow, the King of the North. His gaze lingers on yours, as your eyes linger on him. Neither of you dare to look away, it seems in a way you’re both too mesmerized. For that brief moment until Daenerys spoke up all that existed was just the two of you.

It was such a…weird and new feeling. One you never want to lose.

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