#re. laenor velaryon.

[preytale]

@wcrriorhearts ♡'d. / he's not blind nor deaf to the reception received to another son. a son that looks unlike him, times thrice. one had been enough to receive side glances. two had been questionable. joffrey is undeniable, if only one would be so brave as to speak treason into the air. but no one would dare such a thing. and yet the laenor cannot help but feel as though they've tried their luck for too long, passing on lies for truth. (would they day that light would shed upon the truth be soon? he should hope not.) as he holds the new babe swaddled within his arms, laenor paces, treading delicately around the room. the thoughts unspoken clearly read within his features despite the way he smiles down at the sleeping child. without looking up, ❝ we should leave this place sooner than later. we'd be safer on driftmark or dragonstone. ❞

[pumpkinfyre]

Prisoner of Vows

Chapter One: Union

Summary: Naelys Velaryon is the beloved daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. After the Dance begins, she is trapped in Kings Landing and forced to choose between her blood.

Warnings: angst, religion, naelys is pious

Having not been in Kings Landing for several years, Naelys could not say she was particularly excited about their visit. Alas, her marriage to Aegon Targaryen was fundamental to both sides of the family. Her father would not have forced her into such a situation, but he was dead, both of them were. Harwin Strong lost to fire, as Laenor Velaryon had been. 

She particularly disliked having to sit in a carriage with her stepfather and mother, when she could have just flown her dragon to the Keep. 

"I mislike all of this, Sweetling," Rhaenyra says, breaking the silence in the carriage. Her hand was rubbing at her swollen belly, wincing slightly as the carriage rocked. "You must understand this. Your grandsire is adamant about keeping his promises, and as his heir, I must do the same." 

Naelys nods her head, her lips frowning. 

"It is easy enough to marry him, mother. You will return to Dragonstone, and I will be left to stitch our broken family together by myself." 

Daemon dares to comment. 

"You may have whoever you want once you are married," he says, a smirk on his thin lips. "Aegon is known to take in whores, you may as well do the same." Naelys grimaces, scoffing suddenly. She was a woman of faith, the suggestion that she would take a mistress was offensive. "I'd rather not, Daemon," she says, sparing a look towards her heavily pregnant mother. 

Rhaenyra was pregnant with her second child with Daemon, and Naelys could see that the carriage ride was bothering her mother. The bumps of the rocks and gravel left her looking sick and uncomfortable. She hoped the ride was almost over for her mother's sake. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Kings Landing had changed drastically since her last time there. Naelys climbs out of the stuffy carriage, only to be met with the thick air of the Keep. Dragonstone was open and the smell of salt and dragons was all there was. The Keep smelled... unclean. Before she can think of her old home, a pair of tiny arms wrapped around her waist. Joffrey had stuffed his face into her skirts, his little legs wobbly. The boy was only four and had become extremely attached to his older sister, much like how Luke clung to their mother. She picks him up, little Joff being balanced on her hip as she waits for the rest of the family to leave their respective carriages. 

Rhaenyra stands nearby, cradling her baby bump as she watches over her children. Jace and Luke come to their sister's side, Luke hiding behind her as the family is approached by the Queen Consort, her children standing behind her. Naelys tries to avoid eye contact with Aegon or Aemond as she waits for her mother to talk. It had never been her strong suit, not that she would want to talk to anyone. The nasal moan of Silverwing can be heard above, the large she-dragon flying past the gates.  Naelys smiles the sound of her dragon bringing her comfort. 

At some point, Naelys finds herself in her old bedroom. The introductions had been short, and everyone had been sent away to explore their old home. Instead of Targaryen memorabilia everywhere, there were signs of the Seven, and she found it comforting. Unlike many in her family, Naelys had become a devout worshipper of the Seven, she found happiness in her faith. 

"Not a thing has changed," The gentle voice of her mother resonates in the air, and Naelys turns to see Rhaenyra standing at the door. She stalks towards the bed, her pale fingers tracing the embroidery of Naelys' old bed covers. They were a deep blue, with shells and pearls embroidered. "When you were born, your father would only dress you in blue, to show that you were his little Velaryon princess..." Rhaenyra muses, holding her belly as she sat down on the covers. "Gods forbid I try to dress you in red or black, he'd have a fit!" She laughs, smiling as Naelys takes a seat next to her. "I regret that he cannot see you now..." 

Naelys, despite sharing the same father as her younger brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joff, had white hair much like her Valyrian ancestors. 

Most days she thought it was the only reason her legitimacy wasn't argued whilst her brothers were. There were whispers, of course, but no one openly called her a bastard. 

"You were his little pearl... that's what he called you," Rhaenyra grasps her daughter's hand in her own, running her thumb over the smooth skin of her palm. "By the end of this, I'm sure you will find your own happiness, Lys." "What if I don't? What if they kill me once you leave for Dragonstone?" It was rare for Naelys to voice her worries, her only confidant was Silverwing, her dragon. She had difficulty communicating with her mother, especially after the death of her father all those years ago. "They know what I am." Rhaenyra snaps her head to the left, looking at her daughter with a worried expression. "Your grandsire would never allow it, you know this!" 

Their conversation is cut short when Daemon enters the room, looking around at the interior with an interested expression. 

"Dinner is ready." 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Naelys sat in her seat, sipping at the cider in her goblet as everyone around her chatted. She was seated inbetween her future husband and her stepfather. 

Quite uncomfortable. 

"Your necklace is very beautiful, Princess," Alicent starts up a conversation, as she sat across from Naelys. "I did not know you were pious." Rhaenyra looks to her right, smiling encouragingly towards her daughter. The necklace in question was a small pendant of the seven-pointed star, the chain had pearls embedded in, and the star itself was silver. "Thank you, Your Grace," Naelys says, giving a curt smile. "I find much comfort in the Faith, though there isn't much of a Sept on Dragonstone." "What she means is that she locks herself in her chambers and prays for hours." Daemon cuts in, looking at Naelys as she places her goblet down. "I do not find that shameful in the slightest, My Prince," says Alicent. "I'd be delighted if she accompanied me to the Sept on the morrow." 

Naelys smiles gently, not noticing the stare that her betrothed was giving her. Aegon sulks at the table, taking a heavy swig of his wine. He hadn't been expecting this in the slightest. Naelys had been a mature girl for her age when they were all children, and it seemed to Aegon that she hadn't changed. Polite smiles and chatter with his mother, but not once has she looked his way. He had even combed his hair before dinner, much to his mother's surprise. 

Perhaps that awkward disposition had stuck with Naelys even after all these years. 

The awkward staring coming from her betrothed had not escaped Naelys. She could feel Aegon's eyes burning her skin, like a hot flame. She had not seen Aegon since the incident on Driftmark, where Aemond had lost his eye. She had just claimed Silverwing before the funeral was to be held, so she had snuck out from her room to be with her dragon. 

Needless to say she had gotten caught in the crossfire of the dispute between her brothers and Aemond. Rocks were thrown, eyes were removed, but at the end of the night Naelys and Aegon had been betrothed to each other. A feeble attempt at peace by her beloved grandsire. The dispute had left Naelys with fear for what the future held. 

Being married to her own uncle once she was of age wasn't exactly something she found herself looking forward to. 

The distance away from Daemon was welcome, though. 

Dinner had come to a finish without much fuss, and Naelys could feel the exhaustion move over her body in waves. Her dark brown eyes drooped slightly as she sat in her seat, barely registering the sound of people getting up to retire. Her mother and younger brothers had already left, as had the queen and Naelys' grandfather. Daemon still resided at her side, per her mother's request. He was to be her chaperone until she was married to Aegon. 

Naelys sighs, taking one last sip of the crisp cider in her goblet. The aroma of apples and cinnamon blessing her consciousness as she savored the flavor. It was the taste of her childhood.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Rhaenyra had taken it upon herself to get her daughter ready for her trip to the Sept with the queen. Whilst Naelys usually wore soft blue gowns to represent her father, she chose a sweet velvet dress, black and deep maroon. Rhaenyra takes her time pulling her daughter's snowy hair into a braid, fastening the braid to the back of Naelys' head, as the princess preferred her hair to be pulled back. Whilst Rhaenyra herself had golden-white hair, Naelys' hair had always been paler, white as snow. It was thick, though, and it was a hassle to deal with. 

"I'll light a candle for father while I'm there," Naelys says, looking at herself in the mirror as Rhaenyra finishes up the hairdo. Rhaenyra fishes out some strands of the white hair, bringing out fringe to frame Naelys' round face. Rubbing her thumb over the pale cheeks of her daughter, the princess sighs. "My beautiful girl..." Rhaenyra coos, a certain sadness in her voice. She had objected the union between Aegon and her daughter for years, unwilling to marry off her heir and only daughter. Naelys was willing to do her duty if it meant some semblance of peace could be found, but it pained Rhaenyra to give her child away. 

Naelys grabs a small mahogany box off of her large dresser, smiling encouragingly at her mother. 

"I had this made for the queen, well wishes should do us well," says Naelys, handing the small box to her mother. Rhaenyra opens the small hatch, peering into the box with curiosity. Small gifts were no surprise coming from the young princess, she often made things for those she loved. Her love was usually only for her brothers and mother, but Rhaenyra supposed this was a special occasion. 

Inside the box was a golden ring, embedded with a large emerald.

"Queen Alicent always seems to wear gold, and it looks very regal on her, so..." Naelys awkwardly shifts as she watches her mother observe the ring. 

"I am sure Alicent will love this, Sweet Girl," Rhaenyra says, finally closing the box before setting it back down on the white mahogany dresser. 

...

The trip to the Sept had come early, Naelys listening to the flickering of candles as she kneeled beside Alicent. The queen lights a candle with a burning wick before folding her hands in front of her. Naelys light her own candle, murmuring the name of her father before readying herself to pray. The Sept was quiet, as it was meant to be, a stark difference from the rest of Kings Landing and the Keep. The silence held a certain comfort to it, something Naelys was not used to. She doesn't notice Alicent’s gaze until the queen decides to speak. 

"Do you pray often?" She questions, looking towards the princess as she opens her soft brown eyes. Naelys folds her hands into her lap, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Yes... I pray to the Gods very often, Your Grace." She said quietly, her eyes focused on the candle she had lit for her father, the smaller one beside it represented Ser Harwin, though she could not say that out loud. "I can only see my father in my dreams, so I pray to dream when I sleep." 

As a child, Naelys clung to her father. Laenor doted on her like she was the only thing that mattered to him, so while many gave her odd stares and made her feel unwanted in the Keep, her father would sneak her extra cake after dinner, and he even taught her how to spar. His death had devastated Naelys, and the union between her mother and Prince Daemon had put an extreme strain on their relationship. She had a hard time connecting with her youngest brother, Aegon, due to how she felt about Daemon. 

It was difficult. 

"My stepfather teases me, but I find comfort in my faith." 

Alicent is quiet, and she looks away, her eyes narrowed slightly. 

Faith was a strong ally, Alicent Hightower knew this better than most. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Naelys sits at her dresser, undoing her braids as she looked at herself in the mirror. The snowy-white tresses of hair fall down her back, and she can hear the distinct sound of her music box. Her grandmother would be arriving soon, Rhaenys had just sent word of their departure from Dragonstone. Rhaena had brought Joffrey to her quarters, as he was getting fussy and their mother was already abed. 

"Are you worried? About marriage, I mean," Rhaena asks swiftly, her dark eyes focused on the young boy as he rolled around in his sister's bedding. Naelys walks over to the large bed, handing her brother a toy before settling next to Rhaena. They had become close in the years since their parents had gotten married, Naelys acting like an older sister towards Baela and Rhaena. Baela had voiced her displeasure in letters about Naelys' union to Aegon, and they were all sure they would hear more once she arrived in court. "Of course I am, but it's my duty." Naelys responds plainly, huffing slightly as she rakes her fingers through her hair. "Will you watch over Joff once you return to Dragonstone? I'm sure mother will have her hands full with the new babe..." Rhaena frowns, her eyes narrowed sadly. 

"I wish I could stay with you here... perhaps you could take me to ward," Rhaena scoffs, seemingly not liking the idea of her cousin being married. "If you stayed here with me, you wouldn't have the chance to claim a dragon, Rhaena," Naelys rises from the bed, grabbing her cousins hand and leading her towards a brazier stationed by the window. With a steady hand, Naelys uncovers it, revealing a pale pink egg, with onyx sprinkled on the scales. Rhaena's eyes widen, shockingly she looks towards Naelys as the princess smiles softly. 

"Silverwing released a new clutch of eggs," she says, admiring the egg with happy eyes. "When I saw this one, I immediately thought of you, Rhaena." "I want you to bring this egg to Dragonstone with you, and if we're lucky enough, Morning will be yours." 

Rhaena wants to speak. She wants to remind Naelys that isn't how claiming a dragon works, but the egg is so beautiful, and she feels a striking pulse of connection whenever she gets too close to it. 

This may be her dragon.

hello, hello! I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter, and any feedback is absolutely appreciated! 

just an extra note, I'm fully aware that Morning didn't hatch from Silverwing, I just made it that way for plot purposes 🎀

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[caterinawriting]

Broken Promises 1.

A/N : This isn't my gif. Im HOTD fan and didn't watch GOT or read any books. Strictly following the shows canon. Re-telling with character insert, not proof read. Summary : (y/n) Velayron was born soon after her bother Jace to her mothers surprise, she is the only daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor. She is regarded as a naive perfect princess, if only her life was that. Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x reader, Cregan Stark x reader (later), Slight!Lucerys Velaryon x reader.

Words : 1231

Princess Rhaenyra gave birth to her son and heir Jacaerys. She tried to concentrate on her babes cries, the maids cheers and Laenors praises but all the princess could do was scream. "There's another!" The maids rushed her and her husband backed away with the prince. "A princess your grace!"

Kings Landing before Driftmark

Run, faster. (Y/n) thought as she ran through the halls of the red keep, apologizing to every lord she bumped into on her way to the court yard. Finally she found themlughing with their mothers worm shield.

"Princess? Are you alright? You shouldn't be out without your maid." Ser Harwin remarked pulling the girl closer to her two brothers. "Apologizes Ser but my mother-"

"The princess? What's wrong with your mother-is it the babe?" Their knight looked at her fearfully. "Yes but Ser Harwin its okay, my mother- the babe is born! Luke you're not longer the littlest!" She jested, Luke puffed crossing his arms. "Did you see the baby yet? Was it a girl or a boy?" Jace asked his twin, "No mother was called upon by the queen so my maid said we should wait in mothers chambers. But she also told me that the babe was a boy."

Her brothers cheered high-fiving each other as (y/n) simply huffed, another prince, who could do more as a babe than she was ever going to be allowed. Ser Harwin stepped away from her brothers and equated down, "I assume by that frown that you aren't happy about the babe?" (Y/n) looked at the knight and reached for the strand of hair that was hanging in front of his eyes, she tucked it behind his ear.

"I love my the baby and I love Jace and Luke, it's just Im so lonely. You already spend for much time training the boys, my father doesn't acknowledge me unless I speak to him and my mother only gets to spend so much time with me before my grandsire calls her away. I just though that if the babe was a girl I could finally have some one to spend my days with. Helaena is lovely but her her grace hardly lets us speaks outside of our joint studies. I know I sound ungrateful Ser Harwin but-"

"No, look at me (y/n) you are allowed to feel this way. Listen to me, I know your father is just dying to spend time with you, to take you around court and just speak praises about his beautiful princess! I will speak to your mother and we'll find a solution, you don't need a sister to have company. If you and your mother allow me I will come see you an hour everyday and we'll do anything you wish Princess." She smiled before leaping into her mothers knights arms, squeezing him tightly. "Yes! Of course Ser Harwin!"

(Y/n) pulled away before grabbing Lukes hand and leading him with Jace in tow to their mothers quarters to see their new brother. Harwin stood and followed the children, ready to see the babe too.

...

"Not every day an egg leaves the Dragon pit, Princess.I thought it best to escort the lads." Jace revealed the egg, it was breathe taking (y/n) thought, with out a doubt her baby brothers egg would hatch like I had for her, her twin and little Luke. "Luke be careful!" She pulled his hand away from the steam and checked it for burns.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey." Her father agreed handing Joffrey to their sworn shield, little Luke reached out "Father, please may I hold Joffrey?" Everyone rambled no's, her brother was not careful enough to hold a newborn even she knew that.

"Back to the Dragon pit for you two." Her brothers groaned, (y/n) reached out to the distracted knight, tugging on his armor. He looked away from Joffrey and realized what she was implying. "My Prince, the princess (Y/n) hasn't seen her dragon in a while, she would love to accompany you and the princes." Her father looked at her shocked, "Of course, come now (y/n)." She grabbed her fathers hand and turned to Ser Harwin and mouthed him a thank you. "Mother I will come see you and the babe later on!"

"(Y/n) just be careful and listen to the handlers! And please bathe before you come back to see me- my mother was right dragon does stink." Rhaenyra whispered the last part to herself smiling up.

"Before they send out a search party!"

...

"Why is the girl here?" Her uncle Aegon asked staring her up and down, "I have every right to be here Uncle, I too have a dragon!" Aegon laughed turning to his brother Aemond, "Hear that Aemond? The princess doesn't want you here either." (Y/n) turned to her other uncle and immediately apologized, "No-no Aemond I didn't mean-"

"Its okay Princess I know you meant no harm towards me, my brother on the other hand." She looked over at her bothers who were laughing with Aegon, "Aemond you are a targaryen you will have a dragon one day, I know you can do it." She reached down and grabbed Aemond hand giving it a light squeeze, her uncle didn't show a lot of emotion but her gave her a squeeze back. She turned her attention to the dragon keeper who entered with her bothers dragon.

"Call Vermax to heel, Prince Jacaerys." Jace called his dragon who continued to approach the poor sheep. "You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young Princes.As Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre."They turned to Aegon who seemed impressed with himself, (y/n) rolled her eyes, soon she and her brothers would have control over their dragons too.

"Dracarys, Vermax!" (Y/n) was pulled back as Vermaxs fire engulfed the sheep, she looked down at her hand still in Aemonds. "Thank you uncle. "Ser why hasn't my dragon been brought out to me?" She stepped away from the boys as they began to converse with each other.

"Princess maybe it would be safer when your mother is here-" She huffed looking towards Jace to help her but he was laughing with Aegon. "Ser- my brothers dragon is the same age as mine and he was fine. I wish to feed mine NOW." The dragon keepers only shook their heads and walked away from the princess. How rude she thought.

She turned around to join the boys, but her brothers were leaving with their uncle. She approached Aemond and a pig with paper wings attached. "Aemond I'm so sorry, I will tell my mother of this as soon-"

"What will your mother do? Your bothers are menaces and mine hates me!" (Y/n) scoffed "Aemond, obviously Aegon planned this, my brothers wouldn't even know where to find a pig. My brothers are good boys they just do what Aegon tells them to do, so please do not disrespect them."

He looked at her anger ruminating in his eyes "You don't deserve a dragon, I'm surprised yours even hatched." (Y/n) immediately responded anger growing in her as well,"What are you insinuating Aemond?"

"Nothing." He walked away from towards the pit, (Y/n) had heard the malicious remarks about her and her brothers parentage. But her father was Laenor Velaryon she was sure of it.

[goodqueenaly]

Hello! What do you think Ned would do if Jon came out with the Targaryen look? Will he just pretend it's Ashara's (even if she doesn't have the silver hair) since the Daynes have a Valyrian look?

I think the answer would depend to some extent on how much of the typically Targaryen/Valyrian look Jon inherited. It’s not unknown, after all, for children of Targaryens, even those Targaryens with typically Valyrian features, to inherit only some of those features, or none at all. Compare, for example, Rhaenyra’s “Velaryon” sons, who despite their mother’s silver-gold hair and purple eyes (and the similar features of their ostensible father, Laenor) had brown hair and eyes, presumably inherited from their (almost certainly) biological father; or Princess Rhaenys, the daughter of Prince Aemon, who had her father’s lilac eyes but the typical black hair of her Baratheon maternal ancestors; or Aegor Rivers, who similarly followed his Targaryen father only in eye color, while inheriting his Bracken mother’s dark hair. So in a scenario where Jon had, say, only Rhaegar’s purple eyes, or only the aquiline nose or other stereotypically “aristocratic” features which occasionally mark Valyrian descendants, it’s possible that no onlookers would have really noticed any similarities between Jon and his unspoken Targaryen forebears. Purple eyes, especially depending on their shade, might be read as either gray or black, especially (for the latter) if Jon had the typically brown hair of the Starks; indeed, we need only to look to Jon Connington for an example, albeit in the reverse, of someone desperate enough to see a familial resemblance in a purported son to ignore the chromatic distinction between the son’s eyes and his ostensible father’s. Likewise, any Targaryen-style facial features might simply have been taken as evidence that Jon had inherited the typical long Stark face, augmented by whatever aristocratic ancestry his seemingly unknown mother may have had.

However, Jon having the full panoply of Targaryen physical traits might have been more difficult to disguise or treat as a dynastically unremarkable inheritance of Lord Eddard. To be sure, it is remotely possible that onlookers might have still assumed that Ashara could have been Jon’s mother, given that Daynes sometimes have what I might call pseudo-Valyrian features and that Westerosi familial physical features can sometimes skip generations (see, for example, Valarr Targaryen, whose streak of silver-gold in his brown hair seems to have come from his Targaryen paternal grandfather and antecedents, rather than his Martell-looking father, Prince Baelor). That of course would have been quite a tenuous assumption - to conclude that the dark-haired Ashara would have had a silver-haired child with the dark-haired Ned, simply because some Daynes have such hair - and that’s without questioning whether Ned would have wanted to encourage speculation on Ashara’s connection to Jon, where he clearly did not IOTL. I suppose it’s remotely possible someone might have guessed that Jon’s mother was, I don’t know, a random sex worker from Lys (or anywhere else in Essos where Valyrian features still exist in the general populace), but I think it would have been even more unlikely for onlookers to automatically conclude that Jon’s mother was a random Lysene sex worker that Ned simply happened to meet in Westeros, and have a relationship with, during Robert’s Rebellion.

Ultimately, I think in any scenario for baby Jon, Ned would only have had two real options: raise Jon himself, or have Howland raise Jon. Ned’s obvious devotion to Lyanna, and the unspoken promise he had given his sister, may mean that Ned was always going to bring up Jon as his own son, in his own castle (where, of course, Ned could maintain the highest level of personal control over access to, and consequently speculation on, Jon himself). In that case, if Jon had resembled his biological father Rhaegar in looks, Ned may simply have relied on the prevalent social courtesy among Westerosi aristocrats not to pry into the origins of a man’s bastard child or children. If Ned simply asserted forcefully that Jon was his extramarital son, and gave no further information or allowed further musing on the subject, perhaps he would have trusted that most onlookers would have simply taken him at his word, no matter what Jon actually looked like.

Alternately, given the extreme secrecy Ned maintained about Jon’s origins, and the very small group of people who knew the truth about those origins, only Howland, the sole other survivor of the fight at the tower of joy (and the person, outside of the Starks, who may have been personally personally closest to Lyanna), might have been trusted to take on the responsibility of raising Jon without revealing the bombshell of his parentage. In that case, if Jon had already displayed the Targaryen physical features of his biological father, perhaps Ned would have appreciated the isolation of Greywater Watch as a means of hiding Jon from the wider Westerosi world. In the Neck, having little contact with other northerners (much less the rest of Westeros), with no ravens or maester to transmit news, a Valyrian-looking supposed bastard of Ned Stark (or, indeed, supposed bastard of Howland Reed, or the child of virtually anyone else) may have gone more or less unnoticed. (No one, incidentally, better bring the “Jyana Reed is actually Ashara Dayne” nonsense into my house or I’m blocking you.)

Ultimately, I think Ned clearly had an easier time IOTL of raising Jon as (ostensibly) his bastard son because Jon shared those Stark features with Ned (and, of course, Lyanna). No one looking at Jon or hearing about him needed to wonder whether Ned had actually fathered Jon himself, since it so obviously appeared that Jon took after his “father” in looks. By choosing to have Jon look like a Stark, and not a Targaryen, the author shrouded Jon’s biological origins in mystery while also providing one in-universe reason (among others) as to why no one would actually assume Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna (not to mention, of course, the narrative and thematic impact of that choice on Jon and other characters).

[where-theres-smoak-2]

It has been less than 24 hrs since I re-entered the hotd tag after watching 2x01 and I already feel the need to rant. Because I'm sorry but lucerys velaryon was corlys and rhaenys' grandson, irregardless of whether they were related by blood or not. Corlys is allowed to grieve for his grandson, who he just lost. Rhaenys is allowed to grieve for the grandson she just lost. Like, do I really have to explain that it is possible and natural for someone to love a child and see them as their grandchild even if they don't share blood with them. I have nieces who are my nieces through marriage alone, not a drop of blood shared between us and I love them as much and equally as much as I do my nieces and nephews who I do share blood with.

I have seen one too many posts, tweets etc along the lines of well that wasn't even their real grandson anyway, and of course rhaenys isn't sad that luke is dead that wasn't her real grandson and good luke is dead he and corlys tried to steal baela's birthright to driftmark, like not to be rude but stfu, this isn't about the succession of driftmark, it's about a dead child and the grandparents and family who are grieving him.

So basically yes corlys is allowed to be sad and to grieve for lucerys who he saw and loved as is grandson. Of course rhaenys is grieving for luke, just because there wasn't a moment when she explicitly says she's sad, just because she has pointed out during a time when she was grieving her own child that they weren't related by blood, does not mean that she didn't care and love luke as a grandson. She protected him from alicent's attack at driftmark in 1x07, in 1x10 she points out that the boys are in danger as heirs to the throne, luke included, and encourages corlys to side with rhaenyra and help protect them. It just hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that people care more about driftmark and who should inherit it than they do a child dying and the family who are left behind to grieve. You really think anyone gives a crap about who is going to be heir to driftmark when they are grieving for their grandchild, really?

So anyway, I'm getting really tired of those who are trying to argue that because luke didn't have velaryon blood he wasn't a velaryon and seem to think he isn't worthy of being grieved or loved. There's more to being a velaryon than blood, catelyn identified as a stark but there wasn't a drop of actual stark blood in her, laenor claimed luke, he gave him his name, he called him son, so yes luke was a velaryon. Anyway I think I'm done ranting now.

[bohemian-nights]

Rhaenyra being forced at nineteen (when most noble born women are betrothed when they’re children and married sometimes before their sixteen to men twice their age) to marry (after being allowed to tour the seven kingdoms to find a husband of her choosing) isn’t sexist. Heirs both female and male have to have a heir to continue the line. Politically marrying Laenor Velaryon is a smart move but Rhaenyra was only forced to marry Laenor because of her inability to choose one on her tour and the fact that she was seen in wh*re house allegedly having sex with not only her Uncle but with Daemon. I understand Rhaenyra’s reasons for not wanting to marry (i.e her mother) but by wanting to eventually be Queen she has to bite the bullet and do it.

And as for her leaving Kings Landing I’m pretty 50/50. I understand why she left but leaving and not returning for six years was a big no no. This is more of a side note but her and Daemon ragging on the fact that Alicent changed the design of the Red Keep makes me angry. It’s been six years and Alicent is Queen Consort to a sick and dying King (a King who treats both herself and their children horribly) let her decorate how she wants to. And with all the sick sh*t the Targaryens do they need Jesus lol (another thing the way they made it seem as if Alicent is the only person wanting Aegon and Helaena to marry makes me mad. Book!wise Viserys and Viserys alone does that. By having Alicent arrange that the two be married makes her a very main cause of her children’s suffering).

As for Daemon himself he’s a sh*t father and a sh*t husband. He “tries” but he should try 100x harder. So why he thinks he should have an opinion on what goes on in a home he hasn’t laid his head down in for sixteen years is beyond my understanding lol.

Nothing to add. These are all the facts💅🏽

[chasingthedragons]

Events that went down in History during the Reing of Viserys I Targaryen 9/8

War for the Stepstones

In 111 AC. LORD CORLYS VELARYON and PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN, self-proclaimed PRINCE OF DRAGONSTONE, called his bannermen, against the wishes of the CROWN, initiating a war against the TRIARCHY for control of the sea passage of the STEPSTONES, after months of assaults on westerosi ships.

To the call of the "PRINCE OF DRAGONSTONE" responded the HOUSES STAUNTON of ROOK REST, CELTIGAR of CLAW ISLE, BAR EMMON of SHARP POINT and HOUSE SUNGLASS of SWEETPORT SOUND, all houses of the BLACKWATER BAY. And also counting with PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN rider of the dragon CARAXES and SER LAENOR VELARYON rider of SEASMOKE.

After 3 years of intense battles, the VELARYON were on the verge of defeat, with their days numbered, they could only rely on a risky plan, to get the pirates out of the caves, kill their leaders and disperse the remaining forces of the TRIARCHY.

It was then that KING VISERYS I TARGARYEN sent a missive to his brother PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN informing him of a fleet sent by the CROWN to finally put an end to the conflict. In any case, PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN went into action, offering himself as bait to get most of the pirate forces to expose themselves and to be eliminated by the VELARYON army, their ALLIES and SEASMOKE, sealing their victory, at least for now…

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

[horizon-verizon]

I have a feeling that if we win daenaera in hotd, she won't be 100% black, but yes maybe mixed race (?) that's if Ryan doesn't go crazy and make her white like in the canon of the book or use the excuse of "well… she's a Velaryon but has a white mother, don't you know how genetics works?"

Laena, Laenor, Baela, and Rhaena are all already "mixed" race, though. It's simply that that Baela (both her actors) are dark skinned. Two different things that don't necessarily always have a causal relationship.

HotD!Daenaera has little hope to be 100% Black or darkskinned, since, as you mention a "white mother"--canonically her mother was a Harte. If they want Daenaera to have two Black parents--or especially be darkskinned--they need to make the Harte house another Black house in Westeros OR make them like a dark skinned SouthEast/West however Asian House. If they care more about internal consistency. If not, look below.

She definitely shouldn't be white or have two "white" parents, that's true. And I can see Ryan try to use a fandom argument in a situation where it doesn't fit or doesn't backfire on him, like he tried to excuse the choice of using Black actors to show how "obvious" Rhaenyra's "infidelity" was and how their boys were "obviously" not trueborn as if that were ever the thing we needed to emphasize as an enthical consideration in the midst of all we knew about Rhaenyra's limitations. He could have just said that these actors were right for the job and left it at that, bc things were a little weird already considering how dark Baela was (having a "white" dad and "white" grandmother) and ask the audience to do as audiences have done for plays for years for the sake of story: suspend disbelief. Better than re-perpetuating racism and sexism.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

I have seen a post comparing Steven's adoption of Henry II in the anarchy with what the Velaryons did with the Strong boys wanting to justify that their claim is legitimate, but in my humble opinion it is not comparable at all. This situation could be extrapolated to Aegon II having adopted his nephew Aegon (that was the LEGITIMATE son of his political rival) having himself a living son, in addition everyone would know that he is not his son and well in this case it would not be applicable but the adopted heir retains his family name...This is not what happens with the Strong boys, It has nothing to do with the modern concept of adoption that they want to apply. I don't understand why it's so hard for them to accept that these guys had no real claim to the throne. They can continue enjoying their characters accepting that they are bastards in every sense of the word. Do you think they are comparable situations?

I haven't seen this argument myself but clearly those are two completely different situations. Stephen didn't adopt Henry II, he made him his heir as a compromise to end to the civil war. And yes, the clear parallel would Aegon II naming Aegon III his heir over Jaehaerys and Maelor, had they survived. Again, this was part of a peace treaty. Everyone knew who Henry II's parents were, and there was no question of his not being trueborn. Henry II was still Count of Anjou, the title he inherited through his father, and styled himself Henry FitzEmpress in honor of his mother.

To understand why this happened, we need to look at some context. Henry II was only 20 when he decided to re-take his mother's throne, and Stephen was past 60. At that point England had been at war off and on for the better part of 15 years and both the clergy and the lords were unenthusiastic about continuing and forced Henry and Stephen to the peace table after Henry made some early gains in his campaign. Stephen respected Henry, and Stephen's own sons were kind of uninspiring as future kings go. Eustace, the older son and main obstacle, died before Stephen did, and the younger son, William, agreed to renounce his claim. Stephen never really took the throne due to strong personal ambition in the first place, but because he was persuaded by people close to him that Matilda would be a poor choice for queen, both due to her being a woman and due to the influence of her husband, Geoffrey of Anjou, who was pretty well hated in England. Leaving the throne to his children did not seem to be a major consideration for him when all was said and done. Conceding heirship to Henry II meant that the fighting could come to an end, and the country would be in capable hands, but Stephen himself would not face the humiliation and possible consequences of being outright deposed. As it turned out, Stephen died not even a year later, so Henry II took the throne sooner than expected.

Rhaenyra's Strong children are bastards that she's trying to put into the line of succession while claiming they are trueborn. They were not "adopted" by the Velaryons. The medieval world did not have a concept of adoption like we do in the modern world (Rome did, but not medieval Europe). The reason why it is treason to call them bastards is because what Rhaenyra is doing is illegal, and Viserys, Corlys, and Laenor are shielding her from the consequences. I wrote a post here about the whole idea that Rhaenyra's children are not legally bastards, but I have to admit comparing them to Henry II becoming heir after Stephen is a new one!

[scorpionrising]

there's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (pt. 1: the road not taken looks real good now)

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc word count: 8971 content warnings: explicit sexual content, major character death, cheating/infidelity (not really, but also kind of – it'll make sense when you read it), will add to this list as needed read part 2 here

notes: this is also cross-posted to ao3, as that is my primary place for posting, if you would prefer to read there. this author is fully team black, so proceed with caution. background relationships include cregan/jace/baela and luke/rhaena. feel free to read heavily into daena and rhaenyra's interactions too if you so choose

before reading, please be aware that this is an AU of a completed fanfiction i have written called fireplace ashes. you really don't need to have read it though to read this, as it's pretty self contained. all you need to know at the start:

daena velaryon is the youngest daughter of rhaenys targaryen and corlys velaryon; the same age as aegon. she claimed vermithor when she was eight and laenor was her favorite person in the world growing up, so she loves her nephews very much. she is betrothed to jace and neither of them are happy about it. when rhaenyra sent luke to storm's end, daena went with him. when he chased after luke, she stopped him, and this is where we leave off...

edit, 12/18/2023: because i forgot to mention this before posting — re: any references made to sarya. sarya is an oc from the fic i wrote that this is based on. she is daena’s handmaiden with whom daena has had a clandestine relationship that is so doomed by the narrative that they are both entirely aware of it

Daena and Aemond spoke more and more with each passing day. Mariyah was still sick, confined to her bed and face growing paler as the storms raged outside. Aemond had grown surprisingly competent in dealing with the barn animals, so she spent a majority of her days attending to Mariyah.

“Perhaps it was a miracle,” Mariyah said in a croaking voice as Daena wrung out a cloth to lay atop her forehead.

“What was?” Daena asked. 

“Stumbling upon you,” Mariyah said, closing her eyes as Daena laid the cloth down. “The gods knew.”

“What did they know?” 

“That I would die, and they ensured I would not die alone.” 

There was a faint smile on her deeply lined face, as though she were at peace. 

“Oh, don’t say that,” Daena said, taking care to smooth down Mariyah’s gray hair. 

“Ever since my Royce passed three years ago, I’ve been waiting for the gods to take me. We never had children, you know.” Mariyah’s muddy green eyes sprung open and she reached out a wrinkled hand to touch Daena’s face. Tears began brimming as she spoke once more. “I’ve been alone for so long. It’s been wonderful, having you and your husband here.” 

Daena partly hated herself for lying to Mariyah, but if it gave the old woman comfort in her last days to think she was providing aid to a happy couple in love, she would continue the charade until the moment the storms broke. 

“I’d like you and Jack to keep the house,” Mariyah whispered. “Let it be your shelter. Go to Essos if you wish, but let the house remain standing, I beg. Let it still be filled with love even once I’m gone.” 

Feeling tears in her own eyes begin to well, Daena nodded. If this was a way to settle her debt with Mariyah, she would declare this house as royal property. It would be a hunting getaway for her ancestors for years to come. It would never crumble as a way to pay thanks to the woman who saved her. 

“Of course,” Daena said finally. “We’ll take care of your home.”

“Make it your home,” Mariyah begged. “Make it yours.” 

“We will,” Daena promised. “We will.” 

Mariyah nodded, contended by Daena’s words, and her eyes fluttered close once more. Her chest stuttered, but then began to rise and fall in time. Pursing her lips, Daena pulled the covers up the Mariyah’s chin and removed the damp cloth from her forehead. She let the water pitcher rest on the bedside table and filled a glass with water in case Mariyah woke up thirsty. 

When she went down the stairs, Aemond was sitting by the fire in the main room of the house reading. The candles were dim, burnt down to the wicks around him. They would have to replace them on the morrow with the new ones. 

“What are you reading?” she asked him.

He glanced up from his book and pressed his lips together. “A book of Lysene poetry. The old woman is more learned than I thought.” 

“Her name is Mariyah,” Daena said, scowling and taking a seat in the chair across from him. She pointed her feet out and let the flames warm her bare ankles. “You ought to have some respect, you know.” 

He scoffed at her but did not look back down at his book. Instead, he met her eyes brazenly. Despite herself, she delighted in the way the flames licked at the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. The question was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she could not find the words in actuality. 

“Our families think us dead,” Daena whispered instead, staring into the flames. 

“And whose fault is that?” he retorted. 

She flexed her fingers and clenched her jaw, wondering what it might be like to fling her fist into his jaw. 

“What if we stay dead?” she asked him.

“If you’d like me to kill you, just give the word,” he said through his teeth. 

“Not like that,” she snapped. “I just— Mariyah told me when she dies she wants us— or Alyse and Jack, rather— to keep the house… and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to stay here and live a simple life.” 

“You wouldn’t like that,” Aemond said. He closed his book and set it aside on the floor by his feet. “It would bore you senseless.”

“You said the same thing about my marriage to Jace,” Daena pointed out. She flexed her feet and tilted her head back to stare at the dark ceiling. “It would seem I am destined for a life of dreadful boredom.” 

She sighed loudly and pushed her braids off her shoulder to fall over the back of the chair. Aemond’s eye was trained directly on her face, seeming to see through her to her very soul. 

“Would it not be better to be bored on my own terms, living my own life rather than forced into a loveless marriage?” 

“That would mean abandoning your family,” he pointed out, “which you would never do.”

She huffed and dropped her hands onto her lap. “You’re right. But it’s nice to pretend, I suppose.”

“What’s the point in pretending?” he asked her. “We are not children.” 

“You’re infuriating,” she snapped. “We’ve been stuck here for days on end with nothing to do, knowing our families are preparing for war! What’s the point of any of it? Why shouldn’t I imagine an easier life?” 

“Because it makes you a coward,” he told her as though it were the simplest thing in the world, voice too placid for her liking. “You cannot run from your destiny, Daena, no matter how hard you might try.”

“I’ve never run from my destiny,” she said defensively, remembering the way Helaena looked at her and whispered ‘Dragonslayer’ all those years ago.  

He hummed and turned to the flames, barring the sapphire in his eye from view. All she could see was the unmarred half of his face, and she could see the strange little boy in his bones. She had quite liked that boy, but she thought he might be long dead by now. 

“I hope they betrothed Jace to Baela in my absence,” she confessed in a small voice. “She could love him in a manner I could never bear to, I think.” 

He slid his feet forward. The house shoes Mariyah had provided for him were neatly placed at one of the chair legs, but he wore thick woolen socks all the same. The heal of one of the socks was fraying and the other was drooping so low that she could see his bony ankle poking out from beneath the pants that were too short for him. It made him look disgustingly human. 

“Which Baratheon girl were you going to marry?” 

“I do not know,” he said. “Whichever one I found the most tolerable, I suppose.”

“How romantic.” She smirked a bit to herself and adjusted her weight in the seat for a more comfortable position. “I envy the smallfolk in this. They are allowed to fall in love before they marry. We must make an attempt at love only after the wedding, if at all.”

“I’d take a castle and not having to cook my own meals and slaughter my own animals over love any day,” Aemond said. 

She frowned, pitying him not for the first time and likely not for the last. 

“That’s terribly sad, Aemond.”

When he did not respond, she sighed and stood up. 

“I will be going to bed now, I think…” She made her way across the room and faltered, turning back to look at him. He was staring into the empty seat. “Goodnight, Aemond.” 

He turned. “Goodnight, Daena.”

With a strange, heavy feeling in her chest, she settled into the bed she made for herself on the floor and laid her head down. Tonight, sleep would not come, no matter how strongly she yearned for it. She tossed and turned, trying to find an acceptable position. Sometime later, Aemond entered and blew out the candles. She listened to him shuffle around and settle down. Once he laid down, he was still. She heard his breaths turn deep as sleep took him over. Irritated by that, she groaned into her pillow and flipped to attempt to sleep on her back. 

“Just come up here.”

Her eyes sprung open despite the total darkness. She had thought him fast asleep by now. 

“What?” she asked. “Don’t be absurd, Aemond. That would be—”

“I do believe we are far past what is and is not proper at this point,” he told her. “The bed is plenty large enough for two.”

She thought of what her mother and father might say, of what Sarya would believe, of what Jace and Luke might think of her. To share a bed with the enemy was bordering on treason, but was Aemond truly an enemy? Not to her, she thought a bit shamefully. 

“You are just saying that to lure me in with false pretenses so that you might sully my name and reputation later on,” she accused, though she knew it was rather halfhearted. 

“Gods be good,” he grunted. “Daena, just come up here and sleep.”

“Fine,” she muttered, hating herself for being so weak. 

It was merely because her back was beginning to ache all through the day from sleeping on the floor for the last two weeks. That was all. Nothing more. 

Pillows in hand, she climbed up and made herself comfortable on the bed. She was deeply conscious of Aemond laying stock still beside her, pale skin exposed. Heat from his body radiated towards her and she was mindful not to curl into it, instead turning her back to him and squeezing her eyes shut. She prayed for the storms to end early and for Vermithor to finish healing soon to take her away from this place.

Forgetting she had not gone to sleep on the floor, she was confused when she woke up to warmth and soft cushions and a weight thrown across her middle. She opened her eyes to find Aemond’s head tucked into her shoulder, hand splayed over her stomach. Instantly, she stiffened. This was an intimacy she had only known with Sarya. A traitorous part of herself was glad for it, having missed the feeling of falling asleep wrapped up in another. She quickly murdered that thought and turned onto her side to attempt to slip out of Aemond’s grip. Thankfully, he was a deep sleeper and did not awaken from her efforts. If it were up to her, he would never learn of this.  

Mariyah passed four days later in her sleep, and Daena found that her heart was broken. Mariyah, who had been so deeply kind and had taken in two strangers without a thought, was dead and the world was worse off for it. 

“We have to bury her,” she insisted. 

“Look outside,” Aemond said, gesturing to the raging rain and wind. “You want to dig a grave?” 

“It’s either that or we let her rot in here,” Daena argued. “Don’t be so cold hearted, Aemond.”

“Fine,” Aemond hissed. “You can dig the grave yourself. I want no part in it.” 

And so she did. Wrapped in the cloak Mariyah wore the night she took them in, Daena marched outside with a shovel and began digging. The grave was shallow, but it would have to do. With all the rain, wind, and mud splattering up onto her face, it was nearly impossible to see what she was doing. Lightning cracked through the sky and a branch snapped off the tree just to her left. 

When she turned to go back to the house, Aemond was already walking out with Mariyah’s body wrapped neatly in one of the blankets from her bed. Clearly, he had changed his mind. She was sure she was crying, but she was thankful to the rain for obscuring it from Aemond. Her throat closed as he gently laid Mariyah into the grave she dug. She had never seen him capable of such gentleness before.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

If he heard her, he offered no response. Instead, he took the shovel from her hands and began to cover Mariyah’s body. He moved quickly and methodically and did not even spare her a glance. With every day they spent together, she realized that she understood very little about the prince. He kept his motivations so close to his chest that she was constantly, utterly befuddled by him. Once he was done covering the grave, he stood at Daena’s side—as though waiting for her to move. 

“I wrote to you,” she heard herself say, voice hushed in confession. “After that day on the rocky island, I wrote to you.”

“Yes,” he said.

Something within her shattered. She had hoped ceaselessly that the raven had been lost, or that someone else had gotten the letter and kept it from him. That day on the rocky island with him had been one of the best she ever had since Laena’s death, and now they would never ride dragons together again. Her eyes burned. 

“Why did you never write back?”

“It seemed pointless,” he said, very pointedly not looking at her. 

“I must confess,” she said, “I do not understand your reasoning.” 

He flexed his hand, splaying his fingers out. He rounded on her, shoulders set back. The cloak’s hood was low on his forehead, but she could see the deep indigo of his eye clear as day. There was confliction written in his iris, and then determination as a muscle in his jaw ticked. 

“Three years ago,” he said, voice hard and cold as sharp steel, “I had intended to ask for your hand.” 

It should not have surprised her, with everyone around her back then telling her that he was attempting to court her, and yet it did. The dragon brooch he had gifted her was proof enough of that, but she still had been so blind to it. She had thought it a friendship, and him no more than a boy with a crush. She had no idea that his feelings had ran so deep. 

“After that day on the island, I went to my mother and told her my plans. She forbade it and told me I was not to see you again, on account of your allegiances.” 

“Oh,” she whispered. “Aemond, I—”

“It matters not,” he said. 

“Of course it matters,” she said.

A great gust of wind hit her directly in the face and blew the hood of her cloak off, but she made no move to fix it or run for shelter. This seemed too important. 

“No,” he snapped, “it does not. Why bother fixating on the past and things that will never be?” 

“Tell me something, then,” she said, pushing her shoulders back. “That stone in your eye. Is it not the sapphire I gave you?” 

“It serves as a reminder.” 

“What could it possibly remind you of?”

He stepped closer to her. “The things I will never have.” 

“Why would you want constant reminders of that?” she asked him. 

“Because so long as I am reminded of what I cannot have, I will not be so foolish as to think of what could have been.” 

Again, she found him terribly sad. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his arm. 

“You must allow yourself to want things,” she insisted. “Constant restraint is no way to live. Take what you want, Aemond, and let yourself feel.”

Unable to bear it any longer, she backed away from him and reentered the house. She ripped the cloak off and left it to rot on the floor. She was covered in mud and soaked to the bone. It was terrible, disgusting, infuriating. She was not entirely sure what it was, but it was just as likely to be the muddy clothes as it was Aemond’s attitude. She could not fathom how he could possibly be so cold about matters that deserved only warmth. He was sharp, cutting and slicing with his words, as he spoke about wanting to marry her. In this moment, she would have liked nothing more than to skewer him. 

Pulling at the strings on her dress, she began the process of disrobing for a bath. She wanted to be rid of him. She wanted to be clean. 

She relaxed in the tub until her fingers shriveled and the water turned cold. She dunked her head one last time and stood to leave, but then realized the flaw in her plan. In her haste to take a bath, she had neglected to collect a towel to dry off with or fresh clothes. 

“Shit,” she muttered, knowing she would have no choice but to call for Aemond’s aid. 

Surely, he would never let her forget this. Especially not after what he just admitted to her. Would he think she was trying to seduce him? Grimacing to herself, she drew her knees to her chest and called his name until she heard his footsteps approach the door. 

“What is it?” he asked, sounding just as irritated as she had expected. 

“I—” It was already humiliating. “Could you please bring me a towel and chemise? I forgot.” 

He made a noise that could have been mistaken for a snort behind the door. Without voicing his assent or denial, he walked away. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek and absentmindedly scratching at her clavicle, Daena debated her options. She glanced a bit disparagingly at her discarded gown from before. She could put that back on, but the thought of it was entirely unappealing. 

Then, without warning, the door flew open. Jolting in surprise, Daena quickly drew her knees even closer to her chest to attempt to save her from even more indignity. 

“Here.” He held out a bundle of fabrics. “Where do you want them?” 

“Um, just… The floor is fine. Thank you.”

He nodded and she watched as his eye flickered from her face to the harsh scar on her shoulder, visible no doubt from the manner in which she was hunched over to prevent him from seeing her more intimate areas. Having let him see the scar, now, she perhaps would have rathered him see the other parts of her. Somehow, the scar felt leagues more intimate than her breasts. 

“It happened in the Stepstones,” she said, unsure why she kept him in here. 

She really ought to have sent him away, and perhaps in every other life she did. But, in this one, she did not. 

Aemond’s cheeks darkened in a flush. 

“How?” he asked. 

His eye was trained so singularly on her face that she knew he was making a concerted effort not to look elsewhere. 

“I was fighting on the ground,” Daena explained. “Turned my back on an opponent I thought was dead.” 

Could he hear the undercutting questions in her words? Can I turn my back to you, Aemond? Can I trust you? Once, she might have said yes easily.  

“I hope you gave the craven the death he deserved,” Aemond said, nodding sharply. “There is no honor in that.”

She looked at him, and he her. Slowly, she felt the barest of smiles tug at her lips. Each and every day, he surprised her. Whether it was good or bad, she did not know, and she suspected she would not know until it was far too late. 

Without another word, he left the room. Left alone, she dressed herself slowly. 

Three years ago, I intended to ask for your hand. If he had done it, she would not have wanted it—and yet, she could not help but think about how different things would be if he had. Would things be better? Perhaps so; she could have bridged the gap between Luke and Aemond. That alone would have certainly changed a great many things.  

Perhaps the time on the island had driven her mad, but she felt her bare feet pad along the floor until she found Aemond in the bedroom. Again, he looked achingly human. His bony ankles were visible beneath of cuff of his breeches, and his soft tunic was bunched up at the elbows. She stood in the doorway, merely watching. If he was aware of her presence, he gave no indication, and even if he was; he was surely unaware of how entranced she was by the way his hair fell in silken sheets around his shoulders. He was as severe as he was beautiful.

“Answer me this,” she said, breaking the silence.

His shoulders drew taut as he slowly turned to face her. 

“What makes you believe you could never have me?” 

He scoffed. “Our families are at war. Even before, it would have never been possible.” 

She would have agreed to it, had the matter been raised. Seeing him in such mundanity, tending to animals and reading under the low light of the candles, made it impossible to hate him. He was no enemy. He was merely a man led astray, but his heart was good and his soul nowhere near as black as he would like her to believe. 

“Do not think of our families,” Daena said. “Think only of yourself and how you feel. That is how you take care of yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.” 

Fingers curling into the material of the chemise at her thighs, Daena pushed past him and began to pull at the bed covers. Whatever she had been thinking before, it was a spark of delusion and madness. Clearly he could not see past his inflated sense of self, and he never would. And she was merely entertaining it because she was bored. Grimacing, she fluffed violently at her pillow. 

His long and slender fingers wrapped around the crook of her elbow, and he pulled her towards him without any sense of warning. She was not proud of the gasp she let out in response; sharp and high-pitched. The sapphire embedded in his eye socket—the sapphire she had given him—glinted in the candlelight. He was so close. 

“Could I have had you?” he asked, voice low and rushed. 

“I would not have minded if you asked,” she answered. 

Aemond’s grip on her tightened, and if he clenched any harder she was sure bruises would begin to take form. She considered, briefly, smacking him away, but she did not mind the weight of his grip in all truth. She and Sarya often gripped one another in far greater passions. Besides, she liked seeing Aemond unfurled. 

“I have always known what you are, Aemond,” Daena whispered. 

“And what am I, my lady?” 

“A strange boy with a crush,” she said, tilting her head back. “But I have always been more than fond of strange things.” 

She really ought to have expected it after goading him, but his kiss shocked her all the same. His lips landed on the corner of her mouth, sideways down her chin, as though he were unused to the act. Adjusting, she tilted her head to the side to turn the kiss into a proper one. His hands, clutching her hips in a vice, burned at her skin through her chemise. Enthralled by the feeling, she curled her fingers around the sides of his neck, bringing one hand up into the roots of his hair. 

However inexperienced he was, he made up for it in enthusiasm. Aemond grasped at her, trailing all across her body as though he were attempting to create a map of her bones. She pushed up onto her toes, tightening her grip on his hair, and gnashed her teeth into his mouth. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down just beyond gently. When his mouth fell open, she slipped her tongue against the roof of his mouth. His hips jolted against hers as a sharp gasp tumbled from his lips. 

“Are you going to take me or not?” she mumbled against his neck.

“Please,” he gasped out as she scraped her teeth against his skin. 

“Do you want me, Aemond?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” she whispered, tugging on his hair. “How do you want me?” 

He groaned, low and guttural; rigid against her. His grip only tightened. 

“I want—” His head fell forward, atop hers. “I want to taste you.”

Daena pulled away from Aemond, a wicked grin spreading across her full and swollen lips. Holding eye contact, she stepped backwards until she was sat upon the edge of the bed. Then, with Aemond’s attention captured entirely, she spread her legs and pulled the hem of her chemise up slowly, tantalizingly. 

“Get on your knees, then,” she said.

Aemond fell without a blink. His fingertips traced along her ankles and then slowly crept up her leg, flexing his entire palm against her skin once he reached her thighs. She could feel his breath against her, his mouth open but still so terribly far from latching onto her as she wanted him to. 

“My prince,” she groaned, reaching for the top of his head. “Please.” 

He complied, pressing his tongue flat to her. There was no hesitation in his actions; he licked with confidence and precision, shocking her because she struggled to imagine him experienced. He groaned against her, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and pulling her as close to his face as possible. She was unable to keep the shrill moan from escaping her throat. 

“Aemond,” she gasped. It was a breathy sort of thing, pulled in a wisp from her lungs. “Use… fingers!” 

Ever the apt listener, he dipped a single finger into her. The moan she let out then was a pitched and trilling squeal. His single finger was the size of two of Sarya’s and reached to far deeper places than Sarya’s petite hands had been able to reach. He pumped the finger in and out, slowly and surely, and grinned against her. Two more fingers then, shoved inside her at once. She collapsed backwards onto the bed with a loud moan. He was relentless in his ministrations, going at a rapid pace until she was writhing and squirming and gasping for air. Swiping her arm over her forehead, she pushed herself up to look down at him. 

His face was covered in her, glistening in the flickering, dying light. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. She grabbed a fistful of his tunic and yanked at it to get it off him. Catching on, he moved to help her. There was a heavy silence between them, but he moved onto the bed—hovering over her—without her even needing to tell him what she wanted. 

She stared up at him, lips parted ever so slightly. His hair hung down in a silky curtain, framing his face. Palms shaking, she reached up and pressed her hand to his face. She arched her neck up and brushed her lips softly, gently, tenderly over his scarred forehead. The sapphire buried within his eye socket seemed to glow, keeping her attention rapt. Her thumb trailed along the underside of his eye, brushing against his long lower lashes. He was silent in her arms, stoic above her. 

Afraid to speak, lest she say something too intimate, too weak, too revealing, she pulled his face down and licked herself from his lips. His teeth gnashed against her lip as though he wanted to swallow her whole. Briefly, as she fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, she thought she might let him. They did not speak, not even as she pushed him up against the headboard and sat herself on his lap. He was hard against her inner thigh, but she ignored it for the time being. Instead, she tugged his mouth down to her neck. He licked, bit, and sucked at the flesh, drawing heavy gasps for air from her lungs. 

Chemise sticking to her with sweat, Daena pushed him back to begin ripping at the strings to get it off her. Aemond picked up on it and yanked the shift roughly over her head. His eye flickered down to her heaving breasts and a spike of confidence shot through her when she noticed how his cheeks flushed a darker shade at the sight. 

“Daena,” he gasped out, voice heady and broken. “I… want—” 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she promised, moving her hands to cradle his face. 

Pulling him in for another angry kiss, she shifted her hips so that she could sink herself down onto him. It was a sensation she had never felt before, reaching places she had never known existed. Tears she did not quite understand burned in her eyes, but she continued to sink down until there was nowhere else for her to go. A groan that sounded more animal than human burst from her as she collapsed against his chest. His hands were hot as coals against her thighs, fingers sure to leave burnt impressions. 

Delirious, she dropped her forehead against his and began to move her hips in slow, rocking circles. He swore quietly, tightening his grip on her legs. 

“Seven… hells,” he grunted.  

She continued until she found a pace that cut her breath off at the base of her throat, where the tip of him hit a place deep within her that caused her vision to go black and her jaw to go slack. 

“Aemond.” She exhaled his name, unable to think of anything else but the man beneath her. She wanted to burrow herself within him and find a home within his bones, tucked into his ribs. Every bit of him had invaded her, and she was loath to let it end. This bubble they had created; she wanted it to exist for as long as she could sustain it. Here, they were leagues away from the people they had been and the circumstances that brought them to this island. Here, they were just Alyse and Jack. Here, they were free. 

She let him spill within her after she reached her peak, and then collapsed once more against him. It was easy to fall asleep, exhausted and spent, within his arms. 

Daena awoke with the first light of morning, as she always did. Naked and sticky with the dried sweat of the night before, she and Aemond were still tangled together; his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She was flooded with a wretched sort of feeling, unable to bear being within his grasp. As gently as she could, she removed herself from his arms and reached down to the floor for her chemise. She dressed quickly and sprinted away from the room. 

Unsure if it was more shame or guilt that was flooding through her, she tucked herself into one of the armchairs by the unlit fire and stared into the blackened hearth. If she ever got away from here—if they ever got away from here—how could she possibly hope to look her family in the eye? How could she face Luke, knowing she had sworn to give the uncle who tormented him anything he wanted whilst in the thralls of passion. 

A mistake, she decided. That is all it was. A mistake driven from flaring tempers and boredom. That was all it could be; nothing more. 

Even so, she could not help but wish in the deepest and darkest depths of her soul for the opportunity to make the mistake again. 

A noise from the bedroom informed her that Aemond had woken up. When he came into the main room of the house, their eyes met. After perhaps a moment too long, he tore his gaze away from hers and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and stalked back into the bedroom with that infuriating slow strut of his. 

They did not speak that day, nor the next. Daena resigned herself to sleeping curled up in the armchair, drawing idly on loose slips of parchment she found around the house until she fell asleep. She mourned the tenuous friendship they had begun to restore in the days past as she did her best to ignore the growing knot in her neck from sleeping in the chair. It truly felt as though they were destined to be on opposing sides, never to truly know each other. She wished he never told her he wanted to marry her. Now, her mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have been and what could still be. It was also how she knew him a liar; if he did not dwell on the past, then he would have forgotten the matter entirely. But he had not, and so she knew he did care. 

She would have agreed, she thought to herself as she drew Vermithor’s scales. If he had asked her, she would have married him. It was a terrifying, fleeting thought— and perhaps it was a betrayal of Luke, of Sarya, and, now, of Jace. Still, she could not deny that she liked Aemond well enough. She had been fond of him even when they were children and he smashed her head with a rock. She enjoyed his presence, despite his generally unpleasant demeanor. He was a friend, and she would have liked to marry a friend. She could have been happy in a marriage of friendship. If he had been allowed, she would have accepted. 

But perhaps he was correct, and there was no use on dwelling on these things. What did it lead to but unhappiness?

She was curled up in a chair by the fire while Aemond tended to the barn animals, proving once more that he cared far more deeply for things than he liked to pretend. She flipped the page of the parchment back to the portrait she had drawn of Aemond while he slept. In the sketched plains of his face, she could see the strange and innocent boy beneath the cruel man. Pursing her lips, she tore the page and crumpled it. Just as he said, no use in dwelling on things she could not change. 

He entered in with a wet gust of wind behind him. He made a grumbling noise as he kicked off his boots and undid the cloak, which really only served to make her laugh. He glared in her direction and stalked off, likely to wash up from being in the barn. Heaving a great sigh, Daena got out of the chair to scrounge together a meal for them. They ate like the smallfolk in Flea Bottom, and Daena was miserable for it. Their lack of communication made the bland food all the worse. 

She brought the pot of stew to the hearth and let it come to a boil. Mariyah, in all her elderly wisdom, had planned on a long hurricane season and had gathered enough produce to last them the entirety of it. Aemond emerged from the washroom just as she was removing the pot from the fire. She offered him a tight smile and averted her eyes to began spooning stew into bowls for them to eat. 

They sat silently on opposite sides of the table, pointedly not looking at each other. It made her want to scream and cry and rip her hair from its roots and throw the bowl at him. It was suffocating, and she just wanted to be done with it.

It was he, who broke their days-long silence, pushing his bowl away from him and leaning back against the chair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly, “for taking advantage the other night. It was… unworthy of me.”

Daena stared at him blankly, astounded. Then, a laugh that could be classified as nothing other than a cackle burst from her lips. His lips pursed at the sound, clearly displeased by her reaction. 

“That is what you apologize for?” she asked, gasping for breath between words. “Oh, Aemond… I am hardly a blushing maiden.”

At that, a flush crept up his cheeks. 

“The other night might have been a moment of weakness that can and will never happen again, but you did not take advantage.” 

“Well, I apologize nonetheless.” His cheeks were flushed with blood. “And, yes. Never again.” 

She bit the inside of her cheeks as her mind cycled through all the motions of their mistake. As far as mistakes go, it had been her most enjoyable one. 

“You ought to sleep in the bed again,” Aemond said after another long silence as they cleaned up the kitchen. “I can tell your neck is bothering you.” 

Her hand flew to the crook of her neck on instinct. She ripped it away just as quickly. 

“I’m quite fine.”

“Then allow me to take the chair or floor.”

“No, that is not necessary,” she insisted, turning away from him to stare out the window. The rain beat mercilessly on the glass. Like it was trying to bring not just the home, but the entire island down. “You sustained more injuries than I did in the fall, and the fault for that lies in my hands.” 

She chose to leave out the fact that it was his actions that forced her hand, because at this point that was neither here nor there. 

“Then perhaps I sleep in the other room—”

“Mariyah just died on that bed!” Daena exclaimed, half scandalized. She was tired of this conversation. “We will continue as we have.” 

“Daena, you cannot—”

“And yet, I will!” she shrieked. Instantly embarrassed, she sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back around to face him. “It is different for me.” 

He said nothing, merely staring at her. Gods, how he infuriated her, how he wiggled beneath her skin and stuck there, how he could see right through her. 

“If anyone were to discover we were here alone, you would be perfectly fine. I would be…” She thought back to what he hissed at her when he woke. “Ruined.” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pushed on. 

“Our mistake, for you, is a story to tell someday. For me, it is nothing less than betrayal.” 

“Betrayal.” He scoffed, a sudden glint of venom in his iris. “And what do you call my part, then? Do I not betray my family every moment you remain breathing?” 

“Kill me, then, and be done with it!” Daena threw her hands up. “Please, I beg you. Do it, because I will never be able to kill you as I know I ought to.” 

He blinked at her, stunned into silence by her manic plea. Frustrated tears brimming in her eyes, Daena stomped away from him and into the washroom. She sank to her knees and remained there until she heard no sounds of movement. Praying that it meant Aemond was asleep, Daena crept out and back into the main room. 

She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the sight of Aemond fast asleep on the very armchair she had made her bed the last few nights. One leg was propped up on the cushioned footrest while the other was sprawled onto the floor. Even in her hatred of him— if she could call it that— she was touched by the display. There was hope for him yet, goodness that bubbled beneath the surface. In an effort to repay the kindness, she grabbed a quilt from the chest by the fireplace and laid it over his lap. 

They had perhaps left things worse than they ever were before between them, but Daena would deal with those consequences once morning came. Now, she was bone weary and just wanted to sleep. She slept like the dead once her head hit the pillows, though in her dreams Aemond’s face taunted her. In the morning, she woke with a deep, aching need between her legs. Disgusted with herself, Daena kept herself confined within the walls of the bedchamber until she thought she might collapse from hunger. When she pulled the door open, however, she found herself face-to-face with Aemond—a plate of food and mug of mead in hand. His mouth fell open just a bit as she tripped herself to avoid walking right into him. 

“You have not eaten,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It is getting late… I thought you might like some food.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to do much anything else than focus on his lavender iris boring into her. “How very thoughtful, my prince.” 

“Aemond,” he said suddenly. “Just— Call me Aemond.”

Oh. 

“Very well,” she said. “Aemond.” 

“I wanted to thank you… for the blanket last night.” He shuffled closer infinitesimally. The mug was shaking ever so slightly in his clenched fist. “And, I was thinking… here, we can just be…” 

She pulled the plate and mug from his hands and dropped them onto the small table in the room, discarded to be forgotten. Sighing, she pushed her braids over her shoulder and turned back to him. Did she haunt his dreams as he did hers? 

“We can just be… what, Aemond?” 

“I—” He opened his mouth and closed it thrice. “You said to take what I want.” 

A whirling thrill spiked in her blood, the ache inside of her leading her straight to him.  

“A mistake it might be, but what does it matter?” he asked. “We are alone.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she admitted. 

Taking him to her bed once, twice, or however many times mattered not so long as it ceased once they returned to where they belonged. She just liked to see him finally breaking free of that hardened shell he encased himself in. He kissed her, then, and she forgot all about her hunger for food. All she hungered for was him. His fingers yanked at the curls at the base of her skull, forcing her head back so that he could kiss down her jaw and neck. 

There were no words shared between them. Perhaps that would be too personal, too indicative of their wrongdoing. Neither took the time to undress, merely hiking up her chemise and shoving down his breeches.  They fell backwards onto the bed just as he pushed himself inside her. She gasped into his mouth, digging her nails into his cheekbones and looping her legs around his waist to pull him close. 

They continued at that pace until they were fully spent; collapsed upon one another. Daena yawned loudly, reaching her hand out to grab hold of the apple Aemond put on the plate for her. The generosity of it did not escape her; those apples seemed to be the only thing that made him even a shade of content. She took several bites of it before offering it out to Aemond. As though it were a natural sort of thing to do. And he took a bite from her hand, half convincing her this were a dream. When the apple was nothing but a discarded core and the bread nothing but crumbs, it was Daena who pounced on Aemond. Now that she had been given a taste, she was insatiable. And it seemed, so was he. 

But, it was more languid this time. He did not hurry himself as he mouthed at her neck and began to pull at the strings on her chemise. She wanted to touch him, but quickly lost all means to do so when he pulled her chemise off and began to kiss down her torso. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat and delirium flooded her veins as she became enthralled in the pleasure she wrought from him. 

“Seven Hells,” she groaned out, tossing her head back against the pillows. 

She could feel Aemond’s lips curl upwards into a smile as he traced his tongue along her hip bone in response. 

Much later, when they had tired themselves out entirely, he laid himself down beside her, resting his head on her bare chest. It was strange, how easy it was to simply be with him— and it terrified her as much as it befuddled her. But, then, it had always been easy with Aemond. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, pressed closer than close. Daena had never slept better in her life. 

“I would never ruin you,” he spoke quietly against her collarbone one night some weeks later. She had long since stopped keeping track of the days as they passed, dreary and thunderous as they were. 

Daena stilled beneath him. “What?” 

“Your reputation,” he said, “I would never allow it to fall to ruin.” 

For some reason, she believed him and kissed him hard on the mouth for the first time outside the thralls of passion. He returned the kiss with vigor and they fell asleep in the middle of it, which she had also never done before. 

When morning came, she awoke to a thunderous roar outside her window. Gasping, she shot up and looked around, scrambling to pull her chemise over her head. She knew that roar. Barefoot and without any protection from the weather, she sprinted outside, past Aemond who was slowly blinking his eyes and sitting up from the commotion she caused. Toes digging into the mud, Daena ran from the house to Vermithor. 

His bronze scales were like the rays of the sun amidst all the rain. Grinning, she flung herself forward. 

“My brave boy,” she wept, pressing her forehead to his snout. 

He snuffed and knocked his snout against her head. Laughing, she kissed one of his horns and stepped back to examine him. 

“How is your wing, hm?” she asked, walking around to take in his form.

He flared his wings out as though to prove he was in perfect condition. She reached her hand out to stroke the wing that had been injured when they took down Vhagar. She could see the scar tissue, but the tendons were healed and strong. She could go home. As though sensing her realization, he tilted his head back, opened his jaws wide, and screeched so loud that the trees shook. His hind legs stomped the ground, as though he were preparing for takeoff. It was everything she wanted to hear. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond shouted, standing in the threshold of the doorway.

Vermithor’s neck snaked around and he positioned himself firmly between Daena and Aemond. He remembered Aemond from the attack, and he did not trust the prince. Laughing at her dragon’s protection, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the underside of Vermithor’s jaw. He grumbled quietly and settled. 

“Umbagon,” she ordered before walking back to the house.

Aemond was staring at her like he found her mad. At least that had not changed. She pushed her wet braids from her face. 

“Vermithor is healed,” she said. 

“I can see that,” he said. He held out a large blanket for her. “Come inside.” 

Feeling the chill suddenly, she stepped in and allowed him to pull the blanket over her shoulders. His hands stayed on her shoulders, rubbing over her upper arms to help warm her. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. His face was pulled taut and there was concern evident, his lips pursed as he took care to help her dry off.  

“What?” he asked, seeing that she was staring.

She cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “It’s nothing.” She smiled to herself and tilted her head to the side. “Well, it is nice to see you care.” 

He frowned. “When have I ever given you the impression I do not care for you?” 

That response took her by surprise. It was shockingly earnest, coming from him— but that had been a running theme with him in the last few days. 

“Aemond,” she whispered, lifting a hand to his scarred cheek. 

It was absurd and utterly mad of her, but a sudden shot struck her like lightning. It would be so very easy to love him. Her love for Sarya had not lessened in her time on the island, but there was merely more space in her heart than she once thought. She would never be able to pursue it, of course. She was betrothed and he… Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer. And all that to say, she still wanted him. Something sinister had overtaken her in the last three moons, sunken its claws into her skin and dripped its poison onto her tongue. 

She was fond of him, desired him, enjoyed him, but she had a duty now that Vermithor was in flying condition. Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer, and she needed to bring him to justice. 

“I will come quietly,” he said softly, reaching out and gingerly curling the loose end of one of her braids around his finger. She had a keen memory of her own fingers wrapped in his hair. “I will surrender and bend the knee if that is what you wish.” 

“What I wish?” she echoed. “And what of your wishes?” 

It was as though the island emboldened him, pulled apart his strong defenses and left him bare but more confident than she had ever seen him. 

“I wish for whatever will keep me in your life, my lady.” 

“You can’t mean that,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

She was not immune to the effects of dashing confessions made, easily swept up in the romance of it all. It was her most foolish trait, but being aware of it did not subdue it. It only made her aware of the breadth of stupidity she was capable of. 

“You took my eye. You took my dragon. Take my heart as well; it is yours.” 

Her cheeks burned under the weight of his gaze and words. Mouth dry, she crafted the most intelligent response she could muster. 

“I did not take your eye.”

He shrugged, as though his reasoning were the only sort that made sense. Perhaps he would have preferred it to have been her. Their injuries were settled like scores, canceling the other out— even if he had gotten off far worse than she had. In his mind, it should have been her, and so it was it seemed. Or that he held her in just as much blame as he did Luke. 

“And as for Vhagar—” Her own voice betrayed her, choking off in an unbecoming squeal. “I wish I could have stopped you without killing her.” 

Aemond looked away from her then, finally pulling his face from her palm. She tucked her hand back under the blanket he provided her as quickly as she could so as though it were never there in the first place. Then, he surprised her yet again. 

“I know.” It was a simple thing. “I forgave you a long time ago.” 

She furrowed her brow, a million and one questions racing about her mind, but she kept them to herself. 

“You will come without fight or argument?” she asked slowly.

“I will,” he confirmed. 

Bewildered and pleased alike, Daena observed him for a moment before ultimately deciding he seemed honest.

“Then we must dress. It is at least a half day’s flight from here to Dragonstone.” 

They did not speak again as they readied themselves for departure. What was there to say, really? They had, for better or worse, betrayed their families and themselves by falling into bed with one another, and now fate had come knocking. They both knew that on Dragonstone he would likely face imprisonment at best. There was always the threat of execution, but Daena was not sure Rhaenyra, even at her most bloodthirsty and vicious, had it in her to be a kinslayer. No, Rhaenyra would not take her brother’s head, but she might strip him of all titles and inheritance and send him to the Wall where he could never be a threat to her again. And rather stupidly, Daena did not wish for that. Perhaps this was what Aemond wanted all along; for her to trust him, to vouch for him, to be more than fond of him. 

That decided it for her. Upon arriving to Dragonstone, what happened here on the island would fade into the past. She would dedicate herself to whatever war effort there was and accept her fate as Queen after Rhaenyra. “Whatever claim to the throne I have left, you are it’s heir now. Both of you.” Daena would never be able to forget the sheen of sweat covering the older woman’s body, the way her face was scrunched up in pain and her voice quivered as she laid out commands for her oldest son and Daena. 

There was a truth about Daena Velaryon that Sarya had always seen: For her family, Daena would sacrifice anyone and anything, including herself, and let the entire world burn to ashes. And as Aemond perched himself behind her on Vermithor’s saddle without complaint, she wondered if he saw it too. An unstoppable force meets and immovable object, and whatever happens in the aftermath is only nature. And yet, Daena did not think she would go so quietly if the roles were reversed. 

“Sōves, Vermithor!” Daena yelled as loud as she could over the violent winds and rain, already soaked through to the bone. 

Without complaint or hesitance, Vermithor roared and took to the skies. 

Aemond and her did not speak for entire flight, and Daena was glad for the silence as the black sand beaches of Dragonstone grew ever nearer. It had been a year’s quarter since she left Dragonstone for Storm’s End, and war had been brewing when she did. There was no telling what they would find when they landed.

[presidenthades]

Lets thing a crazy what if ???

What if Daemon had been born as Daemon Velaryon the son and heir of Corlys and Rhaenys he still is the rider of Caraxes and lets reimagine him a bit like Rene Jean but with Corlys hairstyle how would that change things ??? Or how do you see things changing imagine him and Rhaenyra are crazily in love with each other

If Rhaenys were Daemon’s mother, she would never let him get away with even 1% of his canonical shenanigans. 💀🩴

Daemon would take Laenor’s place as Rhaenyra’s suitor/husband. Rhaenyra would be very happy with this arrangement. Yay!

On the Targaryen side, we have Viserys as an only child, and for many years Rhaenyra is his only child. Like in canon, he would keep trying for a son until Aemma dies. Unlike in canon, there is no Rogue Prince acting up, and Viserys never names Rhaenyra as his heir over his nonexistent brother.

Rhaenyra would be his heir presumptive. But without the formal investiture ceremony, she wouldn’t remain the heir once her younger brother Aegon is born. Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne would be extremely flimsy, because she’s never explicitly named as the king’s choice of heir.

Daemon would be more satisfied with his lot in life in this AU. He’s the heir to a wealthy house, he has his grandpa’s dragon, and he’s married to a Targaryen princess. He doesn’t have his canonical chip on his shoulder re: proving himself. He would be disappointed his wife isn’t going to be on the Iron Throne, but I think he’d be content with the Driftwood Throne for himself.

But now the Velaryons have Meleys, Caraxes, Syrax, Seasmoke, and Vhagar, and who knows how many eggs. Otto (who isn’t as hostile toward Daemon, because the heir to Driftmark isn’t as embroiled in the Small Council as his prince version) would urge Viserys to return some of those dragons to the Targaryen family via marriages and betrothals.

Daemon might feel resentment toward Otto because of Viserys marrying Alicent instead of Laena, who would be Daemon’s sister in this AU. But Daemon doesn’t have an abiding hatred of Otto in this AU, so he could be persuaded to see the merits of having his daughter married to Aegon, which would make her the future queen.

[allyriadayne]

I like the idea that Jace might have a real grudge against Addam and his brother. Not only are they being legitimized, while he’s still seen as “illegitimate,” but they’re also set to inherit Driftmark, being "true Velaryons" and all, which is a stark contrast to what Luke represented. And it’s not like much time has passed since Luke’s death, so the sting is still fresh. On top of that, Addam’s now got Laenor’s dragon. So he’s not just getting legitimized; he also got his father’s dragon. This could be a bit like a rerun of the Rhaena vs. Aemond drama. Jace had suggested Rhaena claim a dragon, but Rhaenyra shot him down, so he’s bound to be upset seeing someone else get the chance that Rhaena was denied. Maybe he would even be upset that Seasmoke chose Addam as its rider.

yesss i really like how their different but yet too similar positions could set up a really interesting dynamic, at least from jace's part where he resents what addam is and what addam so easily gets. of course, this from jace's very princely upbringing where he can't even begin to imagine what it is to leave as a common born person like addam and alyn. they didn't get it easy, jace! to me it's that jace is too wrapped up in how he feels and how he's made to feel that when addam ALSO gets some of these same beats re bastardy and dragons and inheritance, it'd rub jace wrong. he who has proved himself again and again vs addam whose own dragon claimed him! who no one ever doubted had valyrian blood.

[farity]

Enemies, part 5

Pairing:  Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary:  Reader is Rhaenyra’s second child and her father is Laenor Velaryon (the only child they had together, the boys are still Harwin Strong’s)

Warning:  Parental death aftermath

You’d sent ravens to both Dragonstone and Driftmark, received a message from Rhaenys that was half jubilant, half consoling.  As you stood before your mother’s body, you felt a numbness that you knew would not last.  

Bellerax waited, perched on the rocks.  Helaena, dearest Helaena, had held your hand as you’d walked to the site, but then Alicent had pulled her back to let you stand in front.  Aemond stood next to you quietly.

You took a step forward and gave the order.

“Dracarys!”

The thought of staying seemed abhorrent to you, so you turned, began walking back with Aemond following you.  As you headed towards your rooms you felt your composure slipping, and your steps quickened. You kept your head down, grateful you knew the way by memory because your eyes were growing blurrier with every step.  

You pushed the door open just in time before the sobs began, and heard Aemond give instructions to the guards before he closed the door.  

He caught you before you collapsed to the floor, brushing your hair off your face as he held you tightly.  He said nothing, simply wrapped his arms around you while you wept.

* * * * * 

She cried desperately, wailing at times, began punching her legs, the grief and anger and desolation mixing in her tears.  Aemond didn’t try to stop her, simply kept her from hurting herself too much and held her.

When she was finally exhausted, her head on his shoulder, he lifted her up and carried her to their bed.  He grabbed a cloth, wiped her face, and began unlacing her gown.  She did not move, did not speak, just let him undress her down to her shift and pull the covers over her.  He removed his boots, got in beside her, and pulled her against him.

To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him, tucked her head beneath his, and a few minutes later, was sleeping soundly.

He had told the guards to not bother them, and that if anyone - especially his grandfather - wanted to speak to either of them, that they would have to wait.  Whatever her relationship with Rhaenyra had been, he wouldn’t let his wife be prodded and questioned any time soon.

She trusted him, which both delighted and frightened him, because he knew there hadn’t been a point yet in which he’d have to make a final choice between her and his family.  He had told himself he would choose her, had told her the same, but part of him wondered if he would doubt, when that moment came and come it would.  She is my family, he told himself, and it felt like the right thing.

She turned in her sleep, onto her own pillow, and he sat up in their bed, watching over her.

* * * * * 

You woke up to find Aemond reading next to you.

“Have you been here all this time?”

“It has only been a few hours.  But yes.”

You rubbed your face, swung your legs over the side of the bed so your back was to him.  “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t come up with an easy answer, and shook your head, shrugging.  “it changes with every moment.”

“It is almost time for dinner.  I can have it brought here if you wish.”

“No, I will go to the dining hall.”  You stepped off the bed, began re-braiding your hair.  When you turned, Aemond had walked over and was just a couple of paces away.  “Aemond,” you smiled, “you’re as silent as the-” you stopped before the last word.  “you’re as silent as the grave.”

He walked up to you, tucked an errant lock behind your ear and kissed you, one hand caressing your jaw.  “We can leave whenever you wish.”  When he made to pull away you reached up, kissed him back before you headed to dinner.

When you and Aemond walked in, Helaena rushed over, hugging you almost as if she was the one in need of comfort.  Perhaps she was.  Perhaps in her way, she felt others’ grief so acutely that she did need it.  You wrapped your arms around her, kissed her cheek.  “Thank you, sister.”

“I will be, always,” she whispered.  “They think not, but I know.  I will be your sister forever.”

You nodded at her and she squeezed your hands one last time before taking her seat.  Aemond had told her of her strange words, how he thought she could foresee things but that sometimes it was difficult to interpret.  This had been pretty clear, however, and you took some safety in her meaning.

You made no eye contact with anyone as you sat and Aemond adjusted your chair before sitting next to you.  You wanted to show them, especially Otto, that you were not broken, that he would not think of you as so destroyed by grief that he could do as he pleased.

When the meat was placed in front of you, you held your breath, turned to your cup of wine instead.  

Forcing yourself to eat, you chewed and swallowed your food without tasting any of it.  The carrots slid like coins down your throat, the turnips sat heavy in your belly.

“We are sorry for your loss, princess,” Ser Otto said later, as you watched the wine swirl in your cup.  You were sitting at the corner, and he stood to take the chair across the bend.  You did not look up at him, but instead looked at Alicent, who was looking uncertain.  

Did she ever look any other way?  Oh, you thought, sometimes she looked very self-righteous, you remembered now.  Especially when she spoke of the Seven, the mantle of religion one she held close to her.

“Despite the disagreements between our families,” he continued, and you heard Aemond push his chair back.  

Was this man ever going to leave you alone?  

“be assured that the royal family embraces you at this most trying-”

I am part of the royal family.  Two of them, in fact.  You stood, anger and something else roiling in your belly, and looked down at him.

Too late you realized what that something else was, and when you opened your mouth, you ended up vomiting all over the floor between you and Ser Otto, who flinched.

You covered your mouth, horrified, and were dragged away by Aemond, who did not stop until you reached your rooms, telling the guard to fetch a maester.

You wiped at your mouth, rushing to the bathing chamber to rinse out the taste of dinner and to wash your face.  When you went back into the bedroom, Aemond was sitting on the edge of the bed, long legs out in front of him.

“Are you with child?”

“What?” you looked at him, frowning.  “No.”

Then you began to think.  How long since you had married him?  How long since you had started laying with him, with no thought to what could happen?

“I called for the maester.”

“Well, you can send him away, Aemond.  I won’t let anyone near me.”

He stood.  “If you are with child, we need to know.”

He was right, of course.  

“I can tell that you are not sure,” he added  

You placed a hand over your stomach, wondering if it could be.  A child, conceived amidst all this turmoil and death?  

Aemond’s child.  Your mind immediately began to race.  Aemond holding a silver-haired babe, Aemond teaching your child to hold a sword.  Your child and his.

“Your Highness, you called for me.”

You turned, taking a step back, as Aemond walked over to the maester.  

* * * * * 

When Daemon arrived on Caraxes days later, the entire keep went on alert.  You had sent him a raven, as well as your brothers, and you had only heard back from Jace.

“I hear Aegon is a cripple now,” Daemon said, and looked at Aemond.  “Looks like a family tradition.”

“We are terribly sorry for your loss, Prince Daemon,” Ser Otto said.  

“Are you?”  Daemon looked at his nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.  “Last I knew, you wanted her dead to protect the usurper’s reign.  How is he doing, anyway?”

“King Aegon shall recover as expected.”

Daemon laughed.  “A King who can’t walk?  A King without a dragon?”

Tired of this useless exchange, you stepped forward.  “Daemon.  Took you long enough.”

“Ah.  There she is.  I thought they might have tossed you into one of the dungeons.”

“Sadly for you, they have not.”

Daemon’s nose twitched, “So I see.”  He glanced around, taking in the various family members and guards standing about.  “What I do not see on your pinched little face, is a single tear for her.”

“I sent word of her death days ago, Daemon.”

“Do you even mourn her?”

“Do you?”

“I loved her!” he roared.  “I have loved her since-” his voice broke, nose red with anger.

You looked at him, wondering how much longer your mother would have cleaved to him had she not died.  “Since she was a child,” you said calmly, hands still clasped in front of you.  “Did you love her when you took her to that brothel and dumped her there?”

His eyes widened and you heard Alicent gasp behind you.  

“Did you love her since you’ve been fucking that girl?"

Daemon smirked at your words.  “You’ve been listening to gossip again.”

“What is her name?” you touched a finger to your mouth and looked around, pretending to think, then smiled, “oh yeah.  Nettles, is it?  Were you deep in her cunt while my mother died?”

The smirk vanished and his eyes narrowed.  “I told her you would be her downfall.  I always did.  She indulged you too much.”

“Looks like a family tradition.  Grandfather indulged her, she indulged Luke, we are all quite indulging.”  You felt Aemond release a sharp breath at the mention of Luke.  “And leave others to pay for our sins.”

“You ungrateful little bitch.  Look at you, standing with the side that killed her.”

You tilted your head at him. “You must be under the impression that your words mean something to me, but let me assure you, they do not.”

“I am glad she is dead rather than seeing what you have become.”

You yawned, covering your mouth delicately.  “Leave, Daemon, you might want to go look after your daughters.  Unless you’re on your way to marry your whore, now that my mother is dead.  Will a fourth wife survive you?”

Daemon jumped on the table and glared down at you.  Behind you, Aemond unsheathed his sword, and Ser Criston stepped forward.

Daemon laughed.  “So brave, when surrounded by men willing to defend you.  Will you step closer?  Just you and me.”

You felt Aemond fidgeting behind you.  “So you can choke me like you did her?”

He froze and you nodded.

“I know what you are, Daemon.  And I know what you never were, because grandfather never wanted you-”

He growled then, face twisted in anger, and jumped off the table, dagger in hand, aiming for you.

You were about to grab your own dagger, but Aemond gripped your arm and shoved you back, shielding you with his own body.  You saw him raise his sword, and then he, Daemon, and Ser Criston all collided and fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs and metal.

* * * * * 

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My Ko-fi

[atopvisenyashill]

i know this is a crazy au but what do you think otto would have done/how would have the dance gone if the velaryon boys were gwayne's bastards instead of harwin's? like say gwayne comes with otto and alicent to kl and somehow gets assigned as rhaenyra's sworn shield and they fall in love etc., and let's say he dies around the same time as canon harwin so rhae still ends up marrying daemon

i don’t know that rhaenyra would marry daemon in this au to be completely real with you. if she’s spent 8-10 years (depending on show vs book canon) in love with Gwayne, I think Otto & Alicent are taking great pains to get rhaenyra on their side somehow. Otto is covertly murdering everyone who says shit about those kids. the hightowers get ahold of the capital way earlier than in canon. alicent is actively poisoning the well re: daemon and probably laena. i think it’s incredibly likely one of them suggests and encourages a match between jace & helaena. almost certain in my eyes that corlys is the one who assassinates gwayne and he’ll have to get creative bc imo otto isn’t sending gwayne away the way viserys/lyonel do, he’s telling gwayne to be more discreet, don’t botch this for us buddy.

like, to be honest, if laenor still dies (no guarantee bc we have no idea why he died!) i think otto suggests a marriage with aegon and after eight years of being so close to the hightowers, she might agree. or like, idk, go for aemond if she’s particularly touchy about the idea of combining her claim with aegon. but yeah, i think if rhaenyra started up an affair with gwayne, it would be because otto dangled him in her face, and otto & alicent arr working overtime to turn her against daemon (and as a byproduct, against laena). even if you factor in some sort of poisoning of gwayne at the same time, laenor is the one who has to get merced, and she has a wildly different relationship with both her siblings and daemon, and i can’t see her marrying daemon if she’s thrown in her lot with the hightowers. i think she’s in a better position to take the capital and gain her siblings as allies here, but i also think she would lose daemon (not the end of the world), and it would put her in jeopardy w the velaryons (definitely an issue) depending on how she handles the bastard babies of it all.

[bbygirl-aemond]

What % Velaryon are the HotD characters?

Hi all I was curious about Driftmark inheritance (re: how much Velaryon blood Luke actually has even without being Laenor's son) and also wanted to point out that it doesn't make a lot of sense to make House Velaryon black but not any of the people from the main Targaryen family. I think most people understand that Jaehaerys (shown briefly in Episode 1) shouldn't have been a pasty lil white man since his mom was meant to be Velaryon, but because of Targaryen inbreeding he is far from the only one.

Plus, I'd already made a handy dandy table for the bloodline history of House Targaryen, and it was easy to make a few changes since Velaryons have only married into that family twice and also Excel did all the math for me. See the results below:

(A few notes on math I didn't show here: Valaena Velaryon is described as half Targaryen, which is why she's listed as 50%. Alyssa's mother is a Massey, so she's also listed as 50%.Jocelyn Baratheon is the daughter of Alyssa Velaryon, which is why she's listed as 25%.)

Anyways it's just funny to think that characters like Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Viserys are all technically around 1/3 Black. Like ahh yes these are my biracial kings/queens:

And listen, I understand that biracial kids can look white, okay. My dad is from India and I am a pasty lil motherfucker. But all of them??? And not Baela, Rhaena, Laena, Laenor, etc.???

Oh also re the Driftmark stuff: Luke is about 14% Velaryon through his mother. If he'd been Laenor's son, he'd have been about 47% Velaryon through both of his parents. But fun fact, as you can see, all of Alicent's children actually have more Velaryon blood than Rhaenyra's eldest three do.

I couldn't fully determine how closely Luke's related to Laenor, because we aren't given information about how closely either Valaena or Alyssa were related to the main Driftmark line that eventually gave rise to Corlys and then Laenor. Through Rhaenys, we do know that Luke and Laenor share the common ancestor of Alyssa, who is Luke's great-great-great grandmother and Laenor's great-grandmother.

[mneiai]

Don't forget that Viserys forced Rhaenyra to marry Laenor, to have an alliance with the Velaryon, which he initially denied when he decided not to marry Laena because he preferred Alicent as his wife. (Viserys in the book married Alicent out of love and not out of duty as it is in the show.)

Yeah, I was kinda implying that in the "Viserys fucking her over" line. I really can't stand him in the show. Some people say he was worse in the books, but I honestly don't think that was the case at all, since we don't actually have a lot of details.

Just when it comes to the marriage/heir stuff, Viserys could have:

Not pressed his claim to begin with (and therefore Rhaenys and/or Laenor would have been Jaehaerys' heir as was expected under Andal succession)

betrothed Rhaenyra and Laenor when they were younger to combine their claims (and therefore not needed to push Aemma for a male heir up until the very end of her life)

not remarried/not had more children after declaring Rhaenyra heir (and therefore not put her claim at risk)

focused on Rhaenyra getting betrothed after Aemma's death and having her marry and have children before he'd remarry

married Laena after Aemma's death and told Rhaenyra from the start any boy they had would be heir so she didn't get settled into it/feel resentful (therefore combining his and Rhaenys' claim)

not allowed an unmarried girl/woman who wasn't Rhaenyra into his rooms alone at all to prevent court gossip

told Rhaenyra he was going to marry her bff specifically instead of being vague about remarrying

declared Aegon his heir as soon as he was born (as even Rhaenyra was expecting him to do)

called the lords back to KL at any time after Aegon was born to re-swear to Rhaenyra (including after Jace was born so that they were swearing to Rhaenyra's line in general)

been more realistic about the sorts of men/boys who would approach Rhaenyra during her tour and instead had someone screen out offers until she only had to meet the most likely ones

not forced Rhaenyra to marry someone who was known to be gay and therefore expected not to have children of his own

provided alternative inheritances for his other children, including marrying them off the way Daemon had been to Rhea, so they wouldn't be left at the mercy of their older sister when he died

etc etc