#rhaenyra grieved harwin's death

[ppeuppeuppeu]

😭😭😭

[ride-thedragon]

A critical analysis of Rhaenyra's motherhood.

Now I'm really happy that the show gave a critical lens to this with episode 7, but it's been established since S1. It was just that her fans and people who don't like Alicent made it extremely hard to give this criticism other and compared her to Alicent even though they aren't in the same circumstances. This is going to be a critical look at Rhaenyra’s motherhood, so if that will make you upset, move on.

Her relationship to mothers.

Rhaenyra doesn't have a real mother figure throughout her life. We see that she feels the need to take care of her mother at 14, probably because she saw Aemma go through it before. When her father kills her she's scared by it and it changes her.

We then see her lean into Alicent, but by the time she's trying to gain a sense of normalcy, her friend is going to marry her father. I know a lot of people hold out hope for that deleted scene, but I like the way they keep it in the show. Rhaenyra doesn't empathise with Alicent because of what happened with Aemma. She becomes a mother, and without much thought, Rhaenyra sees her as the king's wife and baby maker.

With Rhaenys (we will return to it) she doesn't seem to see her in that light. Rhaenys is a caution for who she isn't and wouldn't be. She's too young to realise the freedom Rhaenys has from her position.

There are no other prominent mother figures around her either, and Rhaenyra continues to see motherhood as a trap or slow death in a sense, a way to lock a woman up and bring her down.

How she becomes a mother

Rhaenyra does like sex. She's grown, and even though Daemon will burn in hell for risking her life like that for his own gain with her first sexual experience, Rhaenyra clearly likes sex, she likes the enjoyment and connection, the desire and want.

But she is a woman in feudalism, so she is looked down on because of it. When she has to get married after not finding that in any partner she was presented with, she specifically made the arrangement with Laenor that their sex was out of duty and obligations to make heirs while they could both seek out pleasure.

Rhaenyra and Laenor do not have a healthy or good relationship. Joffrey is murdered by Criston without punishment, and Laenor does his duty, but Rhaenyra finds no joy in it. People like to act as though Rhaenyra would've had to sa Laenor to have his kids but that's not what she says.

Rhaenyra is young and likes sex. She wants to have sex and feel desired. Laenor is gay and traumatised but still doing his duty like they discussed. Rhaenyra seeks out Harwin because she wants to enjoy sex and because sex with him is more enjoyable and what she wanted she gets pregnant.

By this point, she has the risk of the child being Harwin's, but why would she care? The child could be Laenor’s, and if not, he should provenly still look Valyrian.

The child does not look Valyrian, but she is now the mother of that child. She can't say he's a bastard because that's treason, so she passes it off as Laenor’s. This trend will continue and worsen with time.

All of her kids.

Jace.

This ine shocked people recently but I wasn't shocked. Rhaenyra has harmed Jace arguably the moat in all of this. He's her heir while she's fighting this war. Anything they do and any harm she puts herself in that could cost her her life, the Lord of the Realm will be asked to bow to a bastard. He's fully aware of this.

Jace is in constant question of himself, and Rhaenyra can never answer him. The first time he asks if he's a bastard she kisses him and doesn't answer, when he says he should be grieving Ser Harwin, she tells him it wouldn't be appropriate after her non answer and sends him to comfort Baela. She marries Daemon and has true boen Valyrian children by him, risking his life because his biggest protection outside of Rhaenyra was 'kilked' in a way that facilitated that union.

She tries and fails to betrothe him to Helaena, and after she engages him to Baela when she should be looking to allies to support her claim because she can't risk him marrying a non Valyrian.

Now, she keeps putting herself at risk in order to satiate her desires for peace and reunion while he is terrified not just to lose his power but to lose his position. Then she coddles him so he can't prove himself because Luke died. She dismisses and avoids his concerns six years later, just as she did when he was 10, something we see him do to Luke.

Now she again chooses herself before him when it comes to the Dragonseeds, calling into question his biggest legitimacy outside of her. Her right is her priority, and she chooses it over the potential harm it will cause to him. I also don't think she would've done it without that scene with Viserys in episode 8.

Luke.

Rhaenyra is really reckless with this one. She doesn't stop with Harwin. She doubles down because she believes it grants Jace viability if he and all his brothers look alike.

So when the heir to house Velayron doesn't look Velayron, people are rightfully upset. But again, thanks to Rhaenyra and Laenor protecting them, Luke doesn't realise he is a bastard until he's fully confronted with it. Then Rhaneyra, on two separate occasions, chooses to add fuel to the fire. With the boys and Aemond, Luke goes unpunished and protected because of Rhaenyra and her appeal to Viserys. This is something that festers in Aemond.

With the Velayrons who all suspect foul play with Rhaenyra and Laenor, when she kills Vaemond without answering him, she gives room for Luke to question why she didn't have an answer and in his mind, he should've just given the seat up. But he is Rhaenyra's son and she has fixed the situation by wedding him to Rhaena so he doesn't have to worry. She will always be there.

She isn't, though. He's sent away on a mission where he confronts the two things she willingly chose to ignore, Aemond and his bastardy. This leads to Luke's death.

Joffrey.

My baby boy hasn't done anything wrong and is fine, but the show willingly chooses to ignore any mention of his engagement to the Manderlys isn't a great sign that she won't choose to simply marry him off as well to fix the bastard problem.

Aegon and Viserys (and legally Visenya)

These kids genuinely harm Jace specifically. If they decide to be the heirs, more men would stand behind them because they are true born. That's a decision Rhaenyra made because, again, she thinks these boys will be raised outside of that conflict because of her. She is at the center of it.

Again, it's the question of sex and how much she truly thinks she can protect her kids from each other. Especially since Jace treats them like a segregated line, he won't cross.

Baela and Rhaena.

Show Rhaenyra isn't a mother to these girls. She's adultified one while parentifying the other and never offers comfort outside of her own gain. She is not a mother. She hasn't put herself in that position. You can argue she doesn't have too but she should have. Now, she is using them to her benefit in place of herself and what she can't do. Baela is the dragonrider, and Rhaena is the mother despite her protest. These girls aren't daughters to her. She doesn't give them the benefit of loving them enough to hear them.

It's not her responsibility, but she dies understand the position she is in and uses it when it benefits her.

With a focus on Rhaena for a moment as well, they let her claim seasmoke when they thought Laenor was alive in Essos. She risked her life trying to claim a dragon they understood would kill her. I really do hope that they didn't know, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did.

Is she a good mother?

No. She isn't a good mom. It's not a bad thing. She loves her kids because they are hers. She protects them because they are hers. We see a clear contrast with Laena's girls and how she sympathises with them. She, however, doesn't offer them comfort. She sends Jace to do it. Rhaenyra’s kids are an extension of her. She loves them dearly and will not see them questioning who they are. Because she did and hated it. Her kids are legitimate through her. They hatched her dragons egg, and she loves them. It is enough for her, but she has doomed them from the start. They will never be safe, and they are sure to have a sucession crisis amongst themselves. Being loving is important, but she doesn't recognise the responsibility she has to them. Even in episode 7 of seaon 2, we see the same pattern. Ultimately, she comes first. To their detriment, but she loves them. Welcome back, Viserys Targaryen.

Conclusion

I don't think there is a good mom I house of the dragon. And Rhaenyra isn't the place to start to disprove that. Alicent isn't a good mom, Rhaenys isn't a good mom and Laena, even though she is the closest we come to it, isn't a good mom, I'd say she's the best out of the bunch though. Laena is certainly the most normal mom, though. Laena is the best mom. Thank you for coming.

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Six: Salt and Blood

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Alright, everyone. This is the last time you'll see baby Aemond and the reader, so let's cherish it. In the next chapter, we will start where the show did with the characters aged up in Ep. 8. I'm very excited to write for adult MC. I'm not going to lie; I'm a bit worried about writing Aemond's inner dialogue, as I've never written for a male character who isn't obsessed with the reader, but I'm sure I'll do fine. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Alicent being delulu, parentified sibling trauma, and watch me make you feel even worse about Driftmark.

As you journeyed from the gloomy corridors of the Red Keep to the sulfuric atmosphere of Dragonstone and now to the sandy shores and scattered shells of Driftmark, an air of sadness seemed to cling to you wherever you went. You stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing down at the tranquil sea, overlooking the stone coffin that cradled your late Aunt Laena. Two deaths, each carrying its weight of sorrow, yet only one mourned.

You wondered what it would be like to die choked in flames like Ser Harwin and Lyonel Strong did. Would it be the same as suffering dragon fire like your Aunt? Most likely not. Hers was a swift burning of flesh from bones, while theirs was hours of agony and suffocation. 

Despite what your family claimed, the idea of dying to your own dragon’s flames wasn’t an appealing end to you. It didn’t seem noble like how stories explained it to be. It was horrifying to have your skin torched from your body, to feel the power of a thousand suns on your flesh. It would be excruciatingly painful, and you wished it upon no one, not even those you despised most. You would much rather meet the Stranger in your sleep. 

You barely settled into your new home on Dragonstone before your mother received the two ravens. One bringing news of Ser Harwin and the other of Laena, containing death in the ink. You consoled your mother and father as best you could, hugging and kissing and telling them that you loved them and were sorry. It was an impossible task to do, but you couldn’t help yourself. You hated seeing them so distraught and wanted to make them feel better. 

At night, you cried into your pillows in your now isolated bedroom until Jace and Luke entered, watery eyes matching yours. As the eldest, it was your job to hold your family together when your parents couldn’t, and it left you no time to properly grieve the loss of an Aunt and a father figure.

You felt terrible for your cousins Baela and Rhaena. To go to bed one night and wake up the next without a mother was a depth of grief you couldn’t imagine. You didn’t think you could live a life without your mother; you would die with her, and the ability of your cousins to continue without her was admirable as you observed their sullen faces streaked with tears. 

Your Great Uncle Vaemond spoke his sermon in High Valyrian, which was too fast and practiced for you to understand. You could decipher some words here and there, but ultimately, you were lost listening to a man you rarely met. You felt your mother straighten her stance from behind, her arms coming to circle the three of you in a protective embrace.

Vaemond’s eyes were on yours, Luke’s, and Jace’s, but everyone else was focused on him—on the coffin with Lady Laena’s face carved into it.

As your eyes wandered to the other people surrounding the funeral procession, fear struck you as you caught your eldest uncle’s eye. It wasn’t very comforting to see Aegon so soon. You had set it in your mind that you wouldn’t have to see him for many years, and yet, here you were, dressed in an obsidian and red-sleeved gown, pearls adorning the collar and your veiled headpiece. Quickly, you turned away, instinctually taking Jace’s hand in yours.

An air of stiffness surrounded your family that you weren’t blind to. It was always there, but now, more than before, you felt it. You thought it was childish to be so locked into familial drama when someone lay dead inside a casket. Though you didn’t remember much of the times you met your Aunt Laena, she still deserved the respect of putting these grievances aside. You knew you were part of it, but more important things were happening than what you suffered. 

The cries of your father sent waves of sadness into your heart, and with the sudden urge to get him to stop, you left the safety of your brother and clung to your father’s waist. He lifted you into his sea-worn arms and clung to your frail body as if it was the only thing that kept him from sinking into his grief. You rested your temple onto his shoulder, tears of empathy falling from your eyes as he pressed your head closer. 

Afraid of what would become of your father if you let go, you allowed him to crush you in his embrace for as long as he needed it as a scornful laugh broke through the tense atmosphere. You peeked from your position to see Great Uncle Daemon chuckling to himself with a shake of his head at what Vaemond said. You felt annoyance bubble inside you, solidifying your distaste for the man as the Velaryon guards clad in silver armor and blue seahorse sigils lifted the ropes and lowered your Aunt into the roaring sea. 

You didn’t leave your father’s side for the remainder of the day, not even when he slowly lowered himself into the sea with his sister as the cold, salty breeze swept through the evening. You wanted to speak with Aemond, if just for a small moment, but your family came first. They always came before anyone else, a fact that your mother instilled into the very fabric of your being.

Sitting atop one of the rock ledges near your father, you dipped your feet into the saltwater, dragging your toes to watch the water ripple and allow time to pass. It didn’t feel right to leave him alone. The image of him falling into the ocean as your Aunt played repeatedly in your mind’s eye. You were afraid in his grief, he would follow her. Only when your father’s squire, Ser Qarl, took your father from his place with his sister did you leave, joining the rest of the goers for the wake late in the evening.

Searching through the crowd of people for your mother and your brothers, you couldn’t find them. Alone with none of your family for protection, you felt fear pull at your chest. Your hands began to scratch at your arms and scalp, attempting to quell the insatiable itch. The fabric prevented you from doing so, and tears of fright soon began to collect at your lashes. 

From across the balcony, you saw a flash of green, a color that had never offered you comfort until now. Yet as quickly as you saw it, it vanished, leaving only a head of white promptly running down the stairs. You felt your heart drop into your feet as you watched Aemond run across the sandy dunes like he was running from you. 

The call of a dragon you never heard before screeched through the gray skies. It was mournful as if it were calling for a lost pet or child. In this case, it was a rider. As you looked up, you could see the vast shadow of Vhagar’s silhouette soaring through the clouds, flying in the same direction your uncle went. You felt your eyes grow wide with worry at the realization, wanting to chase after Aemond and warn him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” a tender, feminine voice came from behind you as you jolted in surprise. The tall figure of Queen Alicent stood before you, curly auburn hair pinned back into a magnificent updo and clad in her usual green and gold as she put a hand on your back. “Your mother already sent your brothers.” 

“Where is she?” you hastily asked. Aemond was no longer on your mind.

“I’m uncertain. Your father is off drowning his sorrow in his cups with his squire,” she answered in the same velvet voice you remembered her having, bitterness you didn’t understand laced in the undertone.

You felt offended by how the Queen spoke about your father. He was grieving. He was allowed to spend time with whomever he wished, doing what he wanted.

Alicent lifted her arm, wrapping it around your petite frame, and led you inside Hightide. It was not as cold or formidable as Dragonstone; its dark magic melted into the walls, yet it didn’t hold the warmth of the Red Keep. Still, you felt unwelcomed here, either by the place or its people. The pale stone walls were filled with bits and pieces of shells from clams, mollusks, and other long-dead shell creatures mixed into the mortar to make it stand the test of salty air. 

The Hall of the Nine, where you passed as Queen Alicent, led you to the guest chambers, where you held the Driftwood throne where your grandfather Corlys reigned. You recalled when you visited this place many years ago and how he went on about the many treasures from his sieges and conquests that decorated the room in all its glory. He and his wife, Rhaenys, sat in a heated discussion in front of the hearth.

Once you reached the door to your shared bed chambers with your brothers, Alicent turned to you. It was the first time you had seen her since what Aegon had done to you, and you felt tension. It seemed as if she wanted to speak, to say everything that had been bottled up since the revelation of her son’s transgressions, but she was unable to do so as tears choked her. Instead, the only words that came out were those she couldn’t say to her children. 

“I hope you can find the time to visit the Keep. Helaena asked when you would be returning, and it broke my heart to tell her you wouldn’t be,” she confided, stroking the thin black fabric covering your dark hair. “Aemond has turned inwards since you left, and Aegon has become crueler to him. It makes me wonder if he’s always been this way and that my love for him has blinded me from his transgressions.” 

You said nothing. The mention of Aegon’s name still felt like a blow to the stomach. “I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive my son for what he did to you and that we may yet be the family we were always meant to be.” Your tongue felt like lead as your breathing began to race, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as Alicent kneeled before you, a sad smile on her supple lips as she tenderly swiped your tear-stained cheeks with her smooth thumbs. 

“I love you, my shining light, my dream.” 

Leaning in, she took your small frame by your shoulders, kissing your forehead as one would do to their babe. You felt sick, nausea churning in your stomach as you quickly opened the bedroom door, hastily shutting it behind you in fright. 

It was all too much—Lady Laena’s death, Ser Harwin’s, seeing your father in shambles, and Queen Alicent’s steadfast belief that you should become a part of her family no matter what happened to you. The Queen desired to wed you and Aegon despite the horrors he committed. The realization that she genuinely didn’t see what your eldest uncle did to you as something that would permanently bar you from joining the union pierced your heart. You would much rather marry Aemond or Helaena, but having no ties to her seemed better.

Your brothers peered at you curiously from their beds as you clutched your chest, looking as if you ran the entire way here. They didn’t ask any questions, and you didn’t move to speak, loosening the ties of your gown and shrugging it off until you were only in your smock. You didn’t feel like changing into your nightdress in front of your brothers, deciding to climb into bed and shove your face into the pillows, refusing to cry in front of Jace and Luke as you fell into a dreamless sleep.

When Aemond learned of Lady Laena’s death, he knew it was a sign from the Gods that his time had come. The Seven had deemed this the moment to prove himself to everyone who doubted him and thought him useless without a dragon. 

Vhagar. 

The largest, oldest, and strongest dragon in the world was riderless. 

Aemond believed that once he gained the only thing he lacked, life would finally be what it should have been. He would make his father proud, shove all the taunts and jests from Aegon and his nephews back into their faces, and finally become a man you deemed worthy—your Mors Martell. 

As Aemond fled from the wake when the candles had long melted, he thought only of the ichor coursing through his veins. Dusk was upon the island, and the night’s wind blew harshly, strands of his silver-blonde hair covering his face as he climbed over the dunes. Vhagar was further from the castle than he initially thought.

“Fuck.” Aemond released a sigh of exasperation and scrambled across the uneven ground. 

When he came upon the dragon, he was in awe. Vhagar was as frightening as she was enormous—a giant, green-scaled, moving mountain that shook the ground and blew sand with every movement and breath from her powerful lungs. 

Taking advantage of Vhagar’s resting state, Aemond crept along the sparse grass, feeling each gust of air she created with her wide nostrils, blowing the sand into his face and ears. Anxiety was present in his gut, feeling a slight tremble in his limbs as he closed the distance, wrapping his hand around one of the many ropes draped across Vhagar’s scales. Suddenly, he felt the ground underneath him quake, and the head of the dragon lifted with a low rumble.

Vhagar observed Aemond with tired yet calculating amber orbs, double eyelids blinking. She grumbled as she bore her teeth to him. They were the size of a fully grown adult, sending a shiver down his spine. As if it were an act of divine intervention, Vhagar laid her enormous head back down, seeming disinterested in the young boy before her. 

If Lady Laena’s death wasn’t proof enough Aemond was fated by the Gods to claim a dragon, the most powerful beast in the world, laying its head in acquiescence certainly was. Blinded by his small victory, nerves still in his mind, he reached for the rope ladder again, only for Vhagar to raise her head and growl, low and deep. A snarl formed on her great maw as Aemond stumbled back in shock and saw the light of orange flames gather at the back of her throat. 

“Dohaerās!” (Serve!) he shouted instinctively, recalling the many lessons he observed in the Dragonpit as he felt the heat of fire on his countenance. “Dohaerās, Vagus! Lykirī!” (Serve, Vhagar! Be calm!)

With Aemond’s commands, the she-dragon relaxed, recalling her flames and closing her mouth. She purred to him like a cat, a sign that she approved his merit while standing in the face of death. Vhagar would allow the Prince an attempt to claim her, but he must prove himself before the eyes of the Gods, before the eyes of a dragon. 

Aemond took the ropes and climbed atop the mighty Vhagar’s back, positioning himself in the saddle and grabbing the reigns. 

“Sōvēs!” (Fly!) Aemond ordered, and Vhagar rumbled, raising her legs and shaking the sand from her scales. “Sōvēs!”

She obeyed, taking a few giant steps and flapping her great wings, pushing off from the ground and leaving a sandstorm in her wake. Though Aemond told Vhagar to fly, he still had yet to control her as she took to the night sky in a near-vertical position, catching him unaware. The force knocked him from the leather saddle, leaving him dangling in the air with just the reigns for purchase. Aemond screamed with fear, feeling as if his stomach lurched out of his body as he struggled against the whipping wind to regain control. 

She tested him as he grabbed the pommel, sat upright, and pulled the ropes to balance her. He felt like he was on a bucking horse, loosening, tightening, twisting, and turning to the left and right to steer her safely. Vhagar ignored Aemond’s movements and continued to fly like he wasn’t there, diving into the dunes of Driftmark before he reared her upwards, dragging her claws across the sand. He squealed in terror, blocking the debris that scratched his face as she soared over the sea.

Aemond knew he needed to prove himself to her, to show the war-hardened dragon that he deserved to ride her. Her chirps and groans from the day earlier called to him like nothing before, singing to the Prince in her dragon song of forlornness and isolation. Perhaps that was why he felt compelled to claim her. They both shared that feeling of loneliness deep within their souls, that same oddness in their families. The dragoness was too large to be held within any structure, leaving her in forced solitude, her only companions being her rider. Aemond was the only one, despite his Valyrian features, not to have a dragon. 

That would no longer be his story.

Aemond fortified his mind and will, putting his soul into his movements as he lifted Vhagar higher in the sky. He could feel the blood of Old Valyria coursing through his veins as the mighty dragon obeyed, leveling out her vast wings and soaring over Spicetown and back to Driftmark. He screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him in the skies, a bright smile he was sure you could see in Lannisport. 

Aemond had proven himself. He had shown himself and all who doubted and bullied him for not having a dragon that he was capable, that he was worthy. 

Everything was as it should be.

Perhaps you would allow him to kiss you again and spend the night in his embrace. Aemond had no doubt you would be proud of him as he listened to your assurances that he was brave, a dragon knight who you could trust with your secrets and protect you from enemies, and that he deserved your heart. 

Aemond landed Vhagar with a grace he hadn’t possessed before, climbing down the rope ladder on her side with windburnt cheeks. As soon as his feet touched the sand, he ran straight to the underground caverns of High Tide to wake you and explain everything.

“Jace!” 

You faintly heard a voice calling, sounding distant in your dream state. Ignoring it with a groan, you rolled over, trying to return to sleep.

“Jace, wake up! Someone stole Vhagar!”

This woke you from your sleep. You sat up to see Baela and Rhaena hovering over your brother’s bed. 

“We need to stop them!”

Jace and Luke quickly threw the covers off and stuck their feet into their slippers as you observed them curiously. Rubbing the sleep from your face, you yawned, begrudgingly following them. 

“You cannot steal a dragon,” you countered after a long silence in the pale stone halls, your voice laced with sleep. It felt like you had hardly gotten a wink. 

“She is my mother’s dragon! I was supposed to claim her,” Rhaena countered, tears collecting in her dark eyes. 

Yawning again as you followed a few paces behind your siblings and cousins, you rolled your eyes, wanting to bite with the remark, “Why didn’t you?” But you didn’t say it. The reason was apparent why she didn’t, and Rhaena didn’t need any more reason to be distraught.

They led you to the caverns of High Tide, stumbling in your sleepless state. They led to the beaches lit only by dim torchlight, your movements groggy and slightly annoyed. On the other end of the tunnel, Aemond appeared before you with a proud grin and windswept hair. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression, a contagious self-satisfaction that spread to you. 

He needn’t say it aloud. You could tell by how he carried himself, shoulders back, chin high, and a slight lift to his cheeks, that your uncle claimed a dragon—the mightiest one in the world, Vhagar. 

“It’s him!” Rhaena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Aemond.

It didn’t deter him, countering with his head high, violet eyes flicking from you to your cousin. “It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!” she yelled, hurt as if this reasoning would change Vhagar’s fate. As you moved to Aemond, Jace grabbed your hand, stopping you with an anxious yet demanding look on his face. 

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now,” your uncle replied, and you felt your brows raise in shock. You knew better than most of the cruelty he could commit, but after spending time with Aemond and seeing the softer, gentler, and kinder side of him, it took you off guard. 

“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena argued, charging toward him in a challenge. Your skin began to itch, and your breath quickened. 

The hatred felt at the funeral carried over into your brothers and cousins. Tension in the air crackled like a fire in a hearth, watching the yellow and orange flames slowly dwindle into embers until someone threw tinder to spark it.

“Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride,” Aemond sneered. “It would suit you.”

Your lips parted in empathetic offense as you looked from your uncle to Rhaena, tears of guilt and shame pricking at your eyes. You apologized about the pig, and you thought Aemond forgave you, but it seems he couldn’t let go of the hurt no matter how close you were. The feeling of joy for your uncle’s feat was as brief as your friendship.

With a surge of rage, Rhaena charged forward, attempting to push Aemond, but he swiftly countered, and she fell to the ground. You jumped back in shock as you covered your mouth, Luke standing beside you. Baela screamed, protecting her sister as she punched him across his face and Aemond yelped in pain. Without thinking, you went toward your uncle, fearful for his well-being in your heart, but he swiftly stood before you could reach him, returning the same swing to Baela. You gasped in horror and moved to the side, narrowly missing your cousin’s body from colliding with yours. 

“Come at me again, and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” Aemond snarled at the twins, and without warning, Jace ran to him with a shout, shoving your uncle in offended anger and smacking him across the cheek.

You screamed for them to stop as you watched Luke try to join the fray, but you held him back, scared that he would get caught in the crossfire. He was the youngest and the littlest, most likely to get hurt. You needed to protect what family you could. Aemond brought this upon himself with his words of arrogance, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to defend him, too.

The scene before you was violent, a flurry of white, black, and red running atop Aemond as Luke slipped from your grasp, all pummeling, kicking, and screaming at him as you cried for them to stop. He was helpless as he suffered blow after blow, and you felt your heart splinter. This wasn’t a fair fight. Without worrying for yourself, you jumped on top of Jace, pulling him back from your uncle and giving him a chance to defend himself. You felt like a betrayer, turning against your twin to save your uncle. Your brother grunted as you both fell to the ground, his body on top of you as you struggled to keep him from fighting. 

You and your siblings had fought before, but nothing like this. It was so vicious, filled with violence and want for pain, as Jace whipped his head back into yours, causing it to slam against one of the many jagged rocks across the ground, having you see stars. He went back into the brawl with no worry for your safety as you heard the unsheathing of a knife, your eyes blurry as you struggled to see the scene before you. 

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond yelled, suddenly holding Luke by his neck with a rock in his hand.

“My father is alive!” Luke gasped in protest, flinging his arms and blood running down his face.

You needed to get up to protect Luke from physical harm and the threat of discovering your lineage. You didn’t believe Aemond would kill Luke. He was capable of violence, but he wasn’t a murderer. As you tried to move, your skull felt filled with sand, pulling you back down to the ground as you felt the warm trickle of liquid run down your neck. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your sight and mind. 

Aemond spoke again to Jace, seeming to forget your existence and holding a sense of superiority. “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?” 

You forgot how cruel Aemond could be. Your stolen moments of reading and kisses in the night had closed your eyes to it.

“Aemond, don’t,” you mumbled, skull pounding as the excruciating sounds of your brothers and uncle’s shouts pierced your ears like needles. 

You blinked your eyes into focus, seeing Jace wildly swinging a knife at Aemond as you managed to kneel. Your brothers didn’t realize how dangerous what they were doing was, that a knife wasn’t something to use against someone who was armed with only a stone in hand. While Aemond was bigger and had more combat experience, a dagger would kill him. Being upset because someone claimed a dragon wasn’t worth murdering over. 

Reaching your arm out with a soft grunt, you grabbed Jace’s ankle as Aemond pushed him over, holding the same rock above his head as he did for Luke. You thought Aemond knew better than this. You gave him the perfect opportunity to run and get help now that Baela and Rhaena huddled into a scared, crying mess, but he was too far gone into his anger to see reason, blinded by it. 

“Aemond! No!” you shouted hoarsely, trying to stand but failing as your head pounded like a drumbeat.

He turned to you then, lowering the rock to his side as he stared at you with the sudden realization of what he had done. Your uncle was filled with a surge of superiority inside him. He couldn’t think straight, and when he happened upon the five of you, people he was always told that he was above, something inside him that lay dormant finally broke free. He knew he was always capable of violence, but felt remorse when he saw your bruised nose, tear-streaked cheeks, and blood dripping down your throat. 

Did he do that to you? 

Suddenly, Aemond was blinded, sand thrown into his eyes as he stumbled back and heard the yell of Luke, unimaginable pain soon following. You watched in horror as your brother savagely sliced into your uncle’s left eye, blood pouring and splattering across the ground. 

Aemond couldn’t remember if you were amid his attackers. He surveyed the bruised and battered bodies before him and realized what he had done as his stomach fell to his feet.

He hurt people, just like Aegon. You would never entrust your secrets to him. His hands committed violence, but his heart desired to tell a different story—one of a strong and noble prince who went through many trials and tribulations to prove himself worthy of the princess's heart.

All you could hear were screams. Screams from you, screams from Aemond as you crawled towards him, sobbing. 

“Aemond!” you cried as he doubled over, falling into your body as he screeched in pain. 

“It hurts!” he wailed into your chest, his free hand clawing into your back. “It hurts! Help me!” 

You trembled, arms struggling to keep yourself upright against his weight as the flurry of guards rumbled inside your skull like thunder. Unable to make out their words as they moved, it seemed like you were watching the world from outside your body, from the lenses of another, as Ser Harrold pried Aemond from your embrace.

It hurt. Everything hurt—your heart, stomach, muscles, and head. You weren’t sure who led you, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, and Jace to the Hall of the Nine as a flurry of people gathered, pushing and shoving as you clutched your skull. The room was so bright, so loud, as you heard your uncle’s screams. You felt sturdy arms grab you by your shoulders, roughly moving you as if you were nothing more than a doll, as it felt like your eyes were about to burst. Steel blue fabric blocked your eyes as you saw the hazy image of a seahorse stitched into the fabric.

“Father?” You reached out, small digits feeling along the fine silk until the texture of scruff scratched at your skin. Blinking, you saw the aged face of your grandfather, Lord Corlys, as he gathered you and your brothers behind him. 

Where was he, and where was your mother? 

You felt sick as people scattered around you like seagulls when they discovered a bloated whale carcass, all trying to see the injured Prince, who cried until the Maester poured Milk of the Poppy down his throat. It felt like when you accidentally drank the water from Blackwater Bay, like a cold, nauseous sensation that sent beads of sweat rolling down your spine. 

“I don’t feel good,” you whispered to Jace as you leaned into his side, clutching your head and gut. He paid you no mind, peering behind your grandfather to see your other one appear, bearing total weight upon his dragon-head cane. 

“How could you let such a thing happen?” Viserys questioned Ser Harrold, examining Aemond as you heard the sickening squelch of flesh and rattle of metal tools. “I will have answers!”

Despite it undoubtedly being a harrowing sight, you wanted to be by your uncle, to hold his hand through it, to feel his pain with him, but you couldn’t. You needed to be with your brothers. What they saw and experienced would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Luke had taken Aemond’s eye. 

“The princess and princes were supposed to be abed, my king,” the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard explained, shame woven in his words. 

Viserys wouldn’t allow his knights to show such carelessness, surveying each of them with critical eyes. “Who had the watch?”

“The young prince was attacked by his cousins, your grace,” Ser Cristion nonchalantly replied. His words angered you for reasons unknown, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. 

Viserys turned to the room, looking between the two Kingsguards on opposite sides of the family as he hobbled on his cane. “You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!” he boomed in a way you hadn’t seen before. You were afraid he would direct his anger at you, Jace, and Luke, wrapping your arms around them like you were in any state to protect your brothers. 

“I’m very sorry, your grace,” Ser Westerling said, head hung low in unimaginable disgrace. You felt bad for him. There was no way he could have stopped this. He was doing his duty and serving his King. It was Ser Criston who should be blamed.

“The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes before, your grace-”

“That is no answer!” your grandfather yelled at Ser Criston, causing a clap of pain to thunder inside your skull. 

You wanted to go to bed, sleep for eternity, and be awake to everything as it was yesterday. Your brothers and cousins unbloodied and Aemond dragonless and with an eye. 

“Where’s mother?” you noiselessly questioned Jace, leaning into his ear and almost losing your footing. You needed to stay strong for them. 

“It will heal, will it not? Maester?” Queen Alicent asked, velveteen voice quivering with pain for her poor son. Maester Kelvyn finished stitching Aemond’s skin, throwing the needle and thread into a bowl with your uncle’s fleshy, viscous eye. 

“The flesh will heal. The eye is lost, your grace,” his nasal voice replied matter-of-factly.

You were going to be ill. 

Quickly, you ran through the multitude of people, pushing past Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, who tried to stop you before you vomited all the contents of your stomach onto a person’s unsuspecting shoes. The crowd gasped in revolt, those not close to you jumping back and clutching their chests in shock. You found yourself before the fireplace, basking in its comforting warmth as you leaned onto the hearth and looked at the unlucky soul you retched on. 

Perhaps the Gods had a twisted sense of justice as you saw the disgusted face of Aegon before you. You didn’t hide your amused smirk.

“Tend to the Princess!” the King shouted to the Maester, seeming to forget about his injured son and throwing his cane in your direction. 

A flurry of green came before pale gray, tenderly cradling your visage in her palms as if you were her child, inspecting it. You grabbed the Queen’s wrists and attempted to push her away as if her touch burned, but she resisted, struggling against your childish strength until she grabbed your shoulders. Her touch reminded you of Aegon as you burst into tears, muscles going limp and at Queen Alicent’s mercy. She turned your head in her grasp, examining you with the utmost care that made another wave of nausea through you. 

The crowd observed in anxious silence as Aemond turned to watch his mother treat you with the affection he wished to receive. Familiar hatred bloomed inside his heart, swallowing his dry mouth as he thought resentfully. He would still have his eye if he hadn’t been so concerned with you. 

“I want my mother.” you whimpered, lips quivering in fear as the Queen lovingly wiped the blood from your neck. 

The Queen released you from her grip as if you had struck her, chest heaving and wide brown eyes watering as she turned to her eldest son. Your mother was here; you didn’t realize it.

“Where were you?” she interrogated Aegon, smacking him upside down before he could answer. 

“Ow! What was that for?” he questioned, incredulously rubbing at the afflicted area grimly. You held no sympathy for him as you hugged your sides. 

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your siblings suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!” she whispered heatedly so only he could hear, shaking his gangly body in rage. You looked at the Queen with confusion, thinking she had gone mad with grief when she said “siblings.”

As the grand Hall doors creaked open, a shaft of golden light spilled into the room, casting long shadows on the marble floor. With an air of elegance, your mother swept into the room, her silk gown trailing behind her. Following closely was Uncle Daemon, his formidable presence filling the space. Amidst the whispers and murmurs, your name and that of your brothers floated through the air, drawing your attention. Without a second thought, you moved toward her, the sensation of fingertips brushing your bicep as if a ghostly hand had tried to hold you back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Show me, show me!” your mother ordered you and Luke, softly running her digits across your body as you sobbed with relief. “Who did this?”

“They attacked me!” Aemond yelled before you could get a word out, leaning from behind his chair. 

You saw his wound on full display. An ugly crisscrossed row of stitches lined up his eye socket and onto his forehead, the flesh puckered and pink as it fought the infection. Your mother moved your face before you could stare any longer as a chorus of accusations from your brothers and cousins sang. You couldn’t get the image of his gash out of your head. 

“He was going to kill Jace! I didn’t do anything!” Luke loudly shouted as you scrunched your eyes with a painful wince.

“Enough!” you heard your grandfather yell, and you looked at him with helpless, watery eyes, but no one listened. 

“It should be my son telling the tale!” the Queen protested, fist pounding against her chest with conviction over the voices.

You continued to look at your grandfather in anguish, the King of The Seven Kingdoms, whom everyone ignored except you. “Silence!” he yelled, voice rattling inside his hollow chest as flem flew from his decaying mouth. 

The Hall went silent, quieter than the Stranger himself, as everyone looked at one another, stunned at the turn of events. People came here to mourn the loss of a daughter, an aunt, a niece, a wife, and a sister. Viserys looked at you and then at his son, his ivory staff sounding with every movement as you swallowed, the taste of bile strong. 

“He called us bastards.” you silently whispered to your mother, wiping the tears and snot from your face.

“Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened.” The King approached your uncle as he slumped into the armchair, stepping swiftly and with a newfound curiosity. “Now.”

“What else is there to hear?” Alicent questioned, clutching at her neck as tears threatened to spill. “Your son has been maimed, and her son is responsible.”

“Twas a regrettable accident,” your mother countered, moving her body to shadow the three of you from the onlookers.

“Accident?” the Queen repeated, astonished. “The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush! He meant to kill my son!” 

You realized the truth didn’t matter now. All that did was what people perceived it to be. 

“Twas my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!” your mother argued as she placed a comforting hand onto Luke’s shoulders. “Vile insults were levied against them!” 

Your grandfather turned from his son to the four of you as you inhaled a shuddering breath. “What insults?” he questioned, a dangerous lilt to his tone that you had never heard before as the Hall went silent. It raised the hairs on your arms. 

“The legitimacy of my children’s birth was put loudly to question,” your mother replied, her chin high yet holding a nervous waver to her voice. 

As she turned towards you, your mother’s eyes conveyed a silent but insistent demand to verbalize what you previously whispered. She wished everyone to hear these words from you—the compassionate and considerate eldest daughter known as The Gods’ Light among the common folk. With tears streaming down your cheeks and your chest heaving with emotion, you gazed at Aemond with a sense of guilt. You knew the words you were about to utter would carry an extraordinary weight. Both sides sought someone to bear responsibility for the turmoil, but you recognized the unspoken truth. 

At that moment, honesty seemed inconsequential. Aemond had suffered the loss of his eye due to Luke’s actions, and you keenly felt your failure to shield your brothers from harm. You would never fault at your duty again. 

“He called us bastards,” you confessed, lacking the anger and conviction of your siblings as you sniffled, refusing to look at Aemond. 

You watched as the Queen’s auburn tresses bounced with the slight affirming nod of her head, a look of disbelief and recognition crossing her face. At that moment, it became clear that she had informed Aemond about the deception, hardening your heart with betrayal. You had believed that she was different and loved you like family, and it stung to realize that she didn’t hesitate to spread lies that would hurt you.

“My children are to inherit the Iron Throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons,” your mother reasoned, stepping forward to her slouched father as you attempted to reach for her hand to keep you hidden. “Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such awful slanders.”

As you gazed at your mother, her expression eerily mirroring that of Alicent’s, your lips began to quiver with unease. Was your mother implying that he should be subjected to torture? It seemed unfathomable. She couldn’t possibly be serious.

“Over an insult?” the Queen asked, shaking her head in disbelief. You knew she was trying to protect herself as you glared at the woman you once thought held the moon. “My son has lost an eye!”

“Tell me, boy. Where did you hear such lies?” the King seethed, face a hairsbreadth from Aemond as you whimpered.

“The insult was training yard bluster,” Alicent swiftly reasoned, eyes flicking desperately from her son to her husband. “The lot of boys. ‘Twas nothing-”

“Aemond,” your grandfather interrupted, ignoring his wife’s explanation. “I asked you a question.” 

Your uncle sat in solemn silence, his lone violet eye unwaveringly fixed on the ground while his father awaited his reply. Before he could utter a word, the Queen unexpectedly interjected. 

“Where is Ser Laenor, the children’s father? Perhaps he would have something to say on the matter,” she jeered.

Your grandfather turned, sparse brows scrunching together as he turned to Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, your grace. I… could not find sleep and decided to take a walk,” your mother answered for them, smooth palms wiping across her crimson skirt.

The Queen let out a derisive laugh, her disbelief evident as she shook her head at her old friend. It was impossible to ignore the precise timing of Daemon’s arrival into the Hall of the Nine, trailing just moments behind Rhaenyra with her tousled strands of golden hair. Alicent bore the knowledge of her friend’s calculated machinations, even as Rhaenyra’s children stealthily slipped out of their beds to perpetrate the heinous act of maiming her son. She couldn’t dismiss the nagging suspicion that Ser Laenor was likely engaged in equally treacherous activities.

“Entertaining his young squires, I presume,” Queen Alicent sneered like before, making you feel the same deep-seated ire. 

As no one dared to voice their opposition to her words, a glint of silver caught your eye from the corner, revealing Ser Criston Cole’s silent laughter. Like Ser Harwin, you felt the urge to wipe that smug grin off his tanned face, even though you knew it was impossible.

“Aemond, look at me. Your King demands an answer,” your grandfather began, staggering before your uncle. “Who spoke the lies to you?”

Everything went silent; the roaring of the fire and the crashing of the waves in the darkness were all that could be heard in the Hall. You understood that whoever Aemond implicated might not live til the next morn. You felt your throat grow tight and struggled to breathe, clutching at your throat as you swallowed the acrid taste in your mouth. Queen Alicent told him as you recalled the time in Helaena’s room. It confused you at first why she would spread such gossip as she seemed to hold a tenderness for you. Claiming your brothers were bastards went without saying you were, but you realized that whatever contempt she had within her heart weighed far more significant than any affection for you. 

Some of you wished to shout that it was her, but you realized that was something Alicent would do without a second thought if the roles were reversed, and you did not want to be like her. She was wicked and cruel, just like her eldest.

“It was Aegon. He told Aemond to call us that,” you answered as every pair of eyes flocked to you. You didn’t like how close your grandfather was to him, afraid that he might strike him for the consequences of his mother. You felt your heart lurch into your throat as you gained the courage to speak the words aloud of all the bad things he did to you. “And he… he”

Before you could finish, your mother tucked you into her waist, kneeling and pushing your face into her shoulder. You tried to pull away from her when his hand rested on your head, the welt sensitive to touch. 

“Don’t,” she whispered into your hair, disguising it as a kiss. They deserved to know. Everyone needed to know what awful Aegon did to you. You wanted to move against her, but your mind was foggy and muscles weak.

“Me?” Aegon exclaimed with shock, wide amethyst orbs looking at you with a broken expression. 

“And you, boy,” your grandfather crept towards him, the rhythmic tapping of his cane piercing your skull like an ice pick. “Where did you hear such calumnies?” Your uncle refused to answer him as his gaze bore holes into your being. There was no remorse in your heart for him. “Aegon, tell me the truth of it!” Viserys shouted, causing you to flinch and cover your ears. 

“We know, father,” Aegon replied fearlessly, refusing to remove his stare from your quivering form. “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

Feeling the stares from the guests, you admired your uncle for not implicating his mother like a coward, removing your body from your mother, wiping the snot from your lip. Let them look, you thought, inhaling a deep breath as you felt your mother bring you closer. They would stare at you for the rest of your days. It was best if you grew accustomed to it now.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” the King declared, banging his walking stick off the pale stone floor. “All of you! We are family! Now, make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it.” 

You grimaced at his words, and though you loved your grandfather, having been his favorite granddaughter, you disagreed with him. You refused to apologize for your family trying to defend themselves, and the Queen couldn’t help but agree more. 

“That is insufficient,” Alicent said, gesturing to her son. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, my King. Goodwill cannot make him whole.” 

Aemond’s fingers dug into the wooden framing of the armchair, and your chin quivered at the thought of what he might be feeling. 

“I know, Alicent,” Viserys sighed, “but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken,” she sobbed, clutching at her chest, flicking her hair back in a manner that reminded you of Aegon. “There is a debt to be paid. I shall have the hand of her eldest to one of my sons. To mend the rift and unite the House of the Dragon once more.”

“Alicent,” your grandfather breathed in a warning, yet still turned to his daughter, having a hint of hope in his violet eyes.

You looked at your mother, shock overcoming any sadness you felt as she shoved you behind her skirts like a hen would do to her chick, too stunned to speak. “I refuse.” 

The Queen shook her head, a sneer curling her plump lips and wet cheeks. Rhaenyra was a selfish, wicked woman with no inclination of decency. Why couldn’t she see this would be solved if she returned Alicent’s rightful daughter to her? The Queen steeled herself to the belief that she would have to fight for her right to have you. She knew deep in her bones that you would one day be by her side.

“Then I shall have one of her sons’ eyes in return. The Princess is innocent,” the Queen declared with a desperate wave of tears. 

Aemond looked to his mother, face impassive, and senses dulled from Milk of the Poppy. He didn’t recall telling her about what you did for him, though it was very little. It felt like he was becoming a second thought to his mother, who seemed only to be scheming on how to insert his niece into their lives. Aemond realized then that he would always be second in his mother’s heart to you, and he felt hollow at the thought, the love that once filled it for his niece ceasing to exist.

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment,” your grandfather warned Queen Alicent. She said nothing as her chest heaved, brown orbs flicking between her husband and old friend.

Believing the matter finished, the King backed away, but Alicent wouldn’t allow this to be the end. She looked to her sworn protector, an apathetic expression on her visage. 

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Ser Criston looked to the Queen with a startled expression as Luke cried for your mother. “He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.”

“You will do no such thing,” your mother steadfastly declared, ensuring the three of you were behind her.

“Stay your hand,” the King commanded as the Queen shook with rage, desperately looking between her husband and sworn protector. She reminded you of a deer cornered in a vast forest, listening to the distant howls of wolves closing in for the hunt.

“No, you are sworn to me!” she yelled, finger pointing to her chest indignantly. All waited for the knight to respond, the Lord Commander slowly bringing his hand to the hilt of his sword.

“Protect your brother,” your mother whispered, never straying her eyes from the Queen. Without further instruction, you stood before Luke, gradually backing him away from the group of people unnoticed. You understood Alicent would not hurt you, as did your mother. 

“As your protector, my Queen,” Ser Criston replied with a wary head tilt.

“Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?” your grandfather declared, seething, his face centimeters away from his wife before he addressed the room. “And let it be known that if anyone’s tongue dares to question, the birth of Rhaenyra’s children should have it removed.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, you let go of Luke, coming to take your place beside your mother as she thanked the King. The unsheathing of a blade cut through the room as the form of Queen Alicent charged toward your family, startling you, the King’s ancestral dagger in her grasp. Luke screamed as she reached the four of you, but your mother stepped in her path before Alicent could enact her rage. 

Suddenly, a person shoved into you, disregarding your existence as you found yourself on the floor. You noticed how the stone seemed to ebb and wave like the flow of the tide. Lord Corlys appeared beside you, lifting you into his arms, securely bound around your torso as he took you into the circle of your cousins and brothers, your mother struggling against the Queen. 

“You’ve gone too far!” your mother admonished the Queen as tears burned her eyes. She pushed against Alicent, and she jerked against her, trying to get to your brother.

“I?” Queen Alicent exclaimed, voice thick with anguish as you attempted to push out of your grandfather’s arms, kicking your legs into his side. “What have I done, but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, and the law while you flout to do as you please?”

“Alicent, let her go!”

The Queen still poised the dagger to strike, its new path being that of the heir to the Iron Throne as your mother looked helplessly to the onlookers. No one made to separate the two as they all stared in shock, the fire illuminating their faces like wraiths of death. Landing a hard smack to Lord Corlys’s neck, he dropped you as you shoved through the onlookers toward your mother. She put her life for yours and your brothers, but who would put hers before theirs? 

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? My happiness and dreams? It’s templed under your pretty foot again!” the Queen sobbed, her form trembling with hurt and rage, everything that she bottled inside her for years. 

“Release the blade, Alicent,” Lord Otto commanded, a man you hadn’t met until this morn, but she paid him no mind, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she pushed against her old friend. 

“Wasn’t taking her, my only light, enough for you? And now you take my son’s eye, and to that, you feel entitled,” she confessed, tears making the Queen’s mouth thick with wetness as you shouldered your way to the inner circle of people. 

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness,” your mother interrogated, a bitter grimace on her sharp lips. “But now they see you as you are.”

Alicent stared at your mother with an enraged offense that wrinkled her brows as she felt fire surge through her, and with a loud cry, she unthinkingly swung your family’s ancestral dagger. You screamed, running to your mother as you pulled her back, seeing a gash on her inner arm that gushed with blood. 

“Mama,” you wept, tenderly holding her limb as if it would break. 

Dropping the dagger, Alicent took an instinctual step toward you, a blanched, horror-stricken expression across her round face. She longed to go to you, to dry your tears and stroke your head against her bosom like your true mother would, but she could not. The terror and fear in your wide brown eyes that resembled her own sliced through her chest and laid her heart and soul bare as she felt a small hand slide into hers. The Queen hoped to see you standing beside her and thought herself mad before she securely took her son’s fist.

Much like you, Aemond knew his parent needed him. “Do not mourn me, mother. ‘Twas a fair exchange,” he expressed with a maturity beyond his years. He turned to you, a violet gaze once filled with joy now devoid, hollow, and one less eye. “I may have lost an eye but gained a dragon.”

You wished Aemond hadn’t claimed one this way and felt a hiccup wrack your lungs as you cried into your mother, Jace, and Luke coming beside you. You sadly realized this was the end of the fleeting companionship you cultivated with your uncle. All the stolen moments of reading, ideas, philosophies, and aspirations you shared under the cover of privacy were nothing more than air the moment he ran across the dunes. You would have still cared for him without a dragon, as before, but his pride wouldn’t allow it, and now he stared at you with an eye that you knew far too well. 

Aemond hated you. He loathed you and your brothers with a fire that would never cease. This was your fault. He lost an eye because of you—because he cared about his bastard niece and had the foolish dream of becoming the man you loved. You did not deserve it. You were nothing more than a common girl born from sin, undeserving of your station. He would despise you for the rest of his days no matter how his heart screamed to have you by his side when darkness fell and all that was left was the ghost of your touch. 

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Happiness never lasts in ASOIAF. I'm going to miss writing for baby Aemond and reader. They were so cute! From now on it's going to be messed up young adults with severe mommy uses and mental illness. I'm not going to say who has which XD. Thank y'all so much for reading and I hope to see y'all in the next chapter!

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[inknopewetrust]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 [Part One]

Summary: When the longevity of sin is threatened by the factions of a feuding family on the brink of war, a choice must be made to protect the secrets of a heart torn in two. [ser erryk cargyll x targaryen!fem!reader] [wc: 10.7k]

Warnings: minors dni (18+ only), smut, angst, mentions of death/war, themes consistent with show, spoilers for the show (season 3).

quick links: masterlist | this is a love letter, albeit a sad one. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. @zaldritzosrose for banner source.

There is no duty without sacrifice, nor reward without submission. In a world as cruel as this, you often pondered in wilted daydreams of a world at peace.

As golden springs and chilled autumns once brought virtue and good fortune, the hallowed corridors of Dragonstone in the middle of a long, bleak war brought nothing but a faded memory of the past.

The halls whimpered with the martyrs it kept.

And the phantoms snickered at those in wait and the sacrifices one makes for the duty of their house bears scars on those left in their tormented wake.

Night fell with a deep, dark shadow lingering above. A hand gripping the castle as the maids scrubbed the blood from the chamber floor of the Queen.

He was dead.

And you felt a piece of you die with him.

“Sister,” Rhaenyra spoke but her voice was distant.

In an echo chamber of your mind, the noises funneled around you. A heavy weight of air pressed upon you as your hand picked at the wooden edges of the chair beside the fire.

“Leave us,” the Queen spoke to her guard and Elinda quietly.

The door shut behind her and in careful steps, she could see your eyes trained heavily on the spot now covered in a yellow rug. Toys remained from her young boys which struck the shell of her own heart with a fury.

Death lingered in Rhaenyra’s chambers and there was never a moment to mourn. A war roars on the mainland in her name; people perish in acts of heightened emotions and sacrifice puddles even the strongest of soldiers.

“Sister,” she cleared her throat. “To what—“

“When Harwin died,” your voice was hoarse from a weary day, “did you mourn the man you loved?”

Rhaenyra halted behind the settee. Her hands settled to trace its carvings.

“I beg your pardon?” She inquired.

You were lost in a haze of self destruction. Lost within yourself with a haphazard will to move on. Hours had passed, mere hours, and those on the council that sit around a painted table forget the tragedies that have befallen a great house in a matter of weeks.

You mumbled incoherently and Rhaenyra furrowed her brows. She seldom saw you blink in the light of the fire; the waterline of your eyes pooled with tears. One slipped down the cheek closest to her.

She had watched you absent in your own mind as dirt filled the grave in the early morn. It should not have come as a startle that those feelings remained.

“I fear I do not know what to do with myself,” you whispered. “I-I d-do not know what to do.”

“What for, sister?” Rhaenyra approached as she would her smallest child. “You needn’t do anything at this moment.”

She took a seat on the cushion and reached for your hand. It barely brushed your own before something snapped. A arrow shooting from its bow, breaking your stupor and sending you out of your seat.

You removed yourself from the chair and stepped away from her. Your hands shook as your lip trembled.

The death that grieves in isolation swells. Ribbons of torment become suffocating, choking until awoken with a shake.

“I do not wish to be alone,” you all but wailed. “I’ve been alone for so long, so long…”

“Do you speak of sleep? Or, or marriage?” Rhaenyra drew confused. You had been adamant for years, threatening your life and title to remain a spinster the history books would forget.

The Virgin Princess, she imagined the books may speak of.

You let out a weak, strangled laugh at her. Eyes cutting and red, she felt the tremors of Harwin’s pain bubble inside of her. It made her uncomfortable in her skin.

“I loved him, Rhaenyra.”

For the first time, you saw your sister truly look at you.

And she did not see her elder sister.

She did not see the girl, simply two name days older, who was fond of reading and politics.

She could not see the girl who would beckon Rhaenyra to braid her hair while recalling stories of Old Valyria and the conquests of their ancestors.

She did not see a now grown woman who sought independence; someone who tried to subvert the traditions of a name such as the one you shared.

Rhaenyra saw a widow.

She spoke your name softly and you shook your head at her.

“I loved Erryk. I loved him so.”

Rhaenyra let your confession sit.

“I followed you to Dragonstone,” you spat. “I left the only world I’d ever known to remain in your court because you’re my sister, Rhaenyra. But this place,” your eyes trailed along the vaulted ceilings and the wet stones. “This place has done nothing but bring us suffering.”

“Sister,” Rhaenyra sat forward. “We all make sacrifices—“

“No!” Your voice raised as tears fell consistently. “We are weak, Rhaenyra! This would not have happened if we had been prepared!”

“You speak as though his choice was my fault.”

You let silence fall. Diverting your eyes away from Rhaenyra, she felt a grip on her heart go numb. You believed it to be her fault.

“My grief,” you closed your eyes to darkness. “My grief pokes holes in the agony of my life. It heaves within me for a purpose that is not there and I do not know what to do with myself because of it. He is gone. He’s gone, Rhaenyra. I loved him and he’s gone.”

“Is that why you have never agreed to take a lord husband?”

You nodded your head and sank down on her bed.

“Did you truly love Harwin Strong?” You asked, following it with an awkward chuckle. “I find it to be quite amusable that we two daughters loved men in the cloak.”

Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I did.”

“And when he died, did you grieve him as I do Erryk?”

“I did.”

“But you have a memory of him; pieces of him always with you.”

She never spoke aloud the paternity of her sons. Rhaenyra was not daft in knowing people knew, but even to you, her dear sister, she never spoke of it.

Rhaenyra did not shy away from having Harwin keep a long distance between their children. She had seen you and Harwin get along well in the presence of her children and often wondered what the world would be like had she been able to marry him in place of Laenor.

Everyone would have ended up in a much happier place, she believed.

“I do," she whispered against the dead of night. "I do, yes."

"And I will never have that," you stressed. Gaze more frantic than before. You shook your head at the thought. "I never would but I still wanted something to be mine. For me to hold and love and cherish but there is nothing I can do now but sit and ponder the "what ifs." But at war, I am not meant to dwell on them."

"Yet here you are, asking about them anyway."

That dreaded silence fell between you once more. It did not escape her that the lives of innocents were at stake while this war met on the steps of each great house. Her son, Helena's son, good men, and kind women were killed for nothing more than fodder.

It was moot; the tragedy of errors.

“I loved him,” your repeated. “I loved him dearly.”

"Tell me," she tried to offer a tight-lipped smile. "How did it begin?"

"Oh, Rhaenyra," you bemoaned. Sniffing and trying not to focus hard on the spot where he fell on his sword. "I do not-"

"But I would like to hear it," she got up and joined you at your side. Rhaenyra took one of your hands in hers. "I do not wish to hear all the details, however."

You envisioned him in your memory. His eyes, smile. How in the shadows of your chambers he was a different man than he one who served your father, your sister.

He was magnetic and quiet.

Erryk was a lover and a fighter.

You laughed and she smiled. "There was something about men in the cloak..."

"I would have to agree," she said. Her eyes gleamed with a memory of Harwin. She loved him. "Dutiful men indeed."

"It felt so scandalous... but he served me."

"In more ways than one," Rhaenyra blushed and you knocked her shoulder with the back of your hand. She had given birth to five children and still remained a form of pious when broaching the subject.

Your tears still fell but Rhaenyra felt the joy of love bloom.

“I was simply jesting,” she started but you gave her a cutting, mischievous glacé.

"Did you not say you wished not to hear of it? Do you want me to tell you all the details? He was quite good, you know? A very fine fuck indeed."

"Oh Gods!" Rhaenyra laughed loudly and for once, you forgot the pain. "Please, spare me of it!"

“He was b-“

“Please!” She spoke your name in a shriek. “I do not wish to think of you in that way!”

"You truly did not know of it?" You questioned her in a striking bewilderment. You never thought yourself to be shroud in secrecy but surely someone had to have noticed your folly in his presence.

He was your father's, then her own, sworn sword.

"I had my suspicions on occasion," Rhaenyra admitted. "It was Harwin who first spoke of it. I did what I could to protect you. It was not long after the wedding. Harwin said he had crossed paths with him," she smiled sheepishly, "though he was not sure of which twin at the time."

Rhaenyra heard a small intake of breath from you. You squeezed her hand.

"But it happened more than once. The happenstance was too peculiar to not think of it in that way, sister. But Harwin was the one to believe it was Erryk. After a while it became easier to tell them apart and he appeared sure."

"I truly did not think it that hard."

Rhaenyra gave you glance of disbelief yet you had been serious.

"Laenor favored him, as did Harwin. That is why I knew he could be trusted. Not only as a fine Kingsguard but with my sister's heart as well."

"Rhaenyra," you sighed in kindness. A tear from your eyes dropped onto your intertwined hands.

"Harwin spoke of his candor. How devoted he was. Yet he broke an oath for the sake of his honor."

"As we all do."

Rhaenyra hummed and thought of her own indiscretions for the sake of love. How Daemon had taken her to the Silk Streets at the same time you were discovering womanhood with one of the Kingsguards. A peculiar life; one caged and riddled with power.

"I would have married him... had he wished to break his oath," you admitted to her and the sheen in your eyes returned. Kingsguard were only released from their duty in death. "But the Gods had other plans it appears."

"I do not doubt it," she replied in turn. "Do you think father knew of it?"

You shrugged your shoulders in indifference. "I fear the Hightower's may have. Even more so now. It takes much to strike a Dragon so deeply. Surely their motives were amplified when he deserted their cause."

Rhaenyra nodded, looking at the children's toys on the rug. She wanted to find the good in the gloom.

"Tell me of him. Tell me of the Ser Erryk I did not know."

“Rhaenyra…”

“Please,” she nearly begged. “Let us find a happiness. As you spoke there had been nothing but pain. There is a part of you that I do not know of and I wish to know now.”

You were not sure when to begin.

The first time you met? The first time you spoke? Those times were trivial and basic. She did not want to hear of your scandals in detail but you could start at the night where it changed. Where womanhood came to you in a way you were not expecting and the wine settled too deep in your bones.

You should have known it was doomed to fail because on that same night, a man died at Rhaenyra’s wedding feast.

But you were too wrapped up in Erryk’s arms to notice that evil lurked in the Red Keep.

The wedding of Rhaenyra and Laenor was no small affair.

It was said that an entire week was to be planned full of tourney's, feasting, and ending in the penultimate betrothal of your sister to your cousin, Laenor, who had all but been absent for the entirety of both your childhoods.

He knew nothing of her but appeared kind.

As the drums beat and the violins soared in the great hall, the two-to-be-wed danced a traditional Targaryen dance that entranced the scope of the room before the guests who dreamed of dancing on the same floor as the heir to the throne joined them.

You sat at the table as Alicent conversed with her uncle in the corner and Daemon squandered his late wife's relative with the pad of his thumb. You downed your goblet of wine as Gerold Royce backed away in embarrassment and Daemon smirked in victory.

“Do you not feel sorrow for your late lady wife?” You asked Daemon who’s look always reminded you of being hunted.

“We were not fond of each other. So, no, I do not.”

"You are a cunt, Daemon," you cut. Your father made a noise of objection and Lord Hand Lyonel Strong choked on his wine.

Daemon laughed. He spared you a glance before turning it back to where Rhaenyra was dancing.

You knew of her infatuation with your uncle. Her eyes kept darting to the table as if no one would see.

Viserys muttered your name in dissatisfaction.

"Brother," Daemon snickered, "it is fine. The Princess was just expressing her admiration for me."

You scoffed as a squire refilled the goblet to the brim. The wine spilled over and the young man went to make apologies but you brushed him off with the wave of your hand.

The wine was gone faster than it had taken to refill it.

"The ire may lay elsewhere I inquire," Daemon gave a smoldering squint of his eyes. "Tell me, good niece, how it feels to be second in a tourney where you have always been first? Seeing the heir of the throne marry before you?"

"You overstep, Uncle," you cut.

"But I am a cunt, remember?"

You sat back in your seat as the air around you became uncomfortable and suffocating. Alicent returned with a strained greeting to which she received nothing in return from you.

It perturbed you that a girl, years your junior, had become your stepmother.

The squire returned to fill your cup but nearly spilled it over your hand as it covered the top of the goblet.

"Squire," Daemon's playful voice was etched with a sinful glee. "I do not believe the Princess needs any. She needs something a bit more sturdy to lift her spirits." He motioned with his pointer finger up to the sky lewdly. “A good fuck would do you well.”

"Daemon," your father spoke and Alicent looked away in a rose-colored blush.

"All in good fun, Brother," Daemon defended as he said your name in a question. The squire escaped quickly from the table; the music changed in the room and the dancers from noble houses joined at a more jubilant pace.

Lord Lyonel eyed the floor as his son, Harwin, danced with Rhaenyra.

Daemon leaned into Lyonel's personal space with a quiet voice.

"Have you been to the Silk Streets, Princess?"

"Daemon!" Viserys ordered loudly. His voice caught the attention of the Velaryon's at the end of the table. "I will not have such talk at this table on this day! It is my daughter's wedding!"

"Of co–"

"It's alright, Father," you turned to him as the weakened look on his worn face became more present. "I believe the eve has gotten the best of me."

Rising from your seat, Viserys objected and Alicent latched herself to your hand.

You felt an evil burn your skin.

"You mustn't go," she pleaded on your father's behalf. "It has only just begun."

"I assure you tomorrow will be a much better day," you told her and wiggled your arm out of her grasp.

Viserys sighed in defeat. He scoured the room for Ser Criston to escort you to your chambers but you had not allowed him the chance to speak. You turned away and stepped down from the risen floor and towards the exit to the left of the Iron Throne. In his sight, Ser Erryk caught his attention.

He could only tell the difference because his helmet had been removed.

"Ser Erryk!" Viserys barked.

Ser Erryk had been a Kingsguard for near three years with his brother, Ser Arryk, alongside him. They had been nothing short of loyal to Viserys in the time since their joining.

"Your Grace," Erryk stopped before the King as he turned around and pointed to his eldest daughter's escape from the Throne Room.

"The Princess wishes to retire," Erryk turned his head to watch you disappear beyond the archway. "Please escort and stand watch until Ser Thorne can return to his station outside of the quarters.”

"Yes, Your Grace."

Erryk did his duty and followed obediently after you. Daemon remained laughing quietly as the reminders of you were left. Wine on the table, a plate untouched of food grew cold as the night wore thin.

You traced your hand along the stones of the hallways of the Red Keep. Ancient and sturdy, the ancestors who crafted these corridors knew not of the stories they would tell; how much each turn of the stone would witness as the years passed and the shadows became ingrained in its pattern.

The wine you had been drinking began to catch up with you.

It had been not more than three cups and you felt flushed and warm. Still with your senses, you felt angry and jolly at the same time.

Yet the frustrations of your family still lingered heavier. You felt the steam roll from your shoulders, loosening itself into tendrils of anger as the sounds of jubilance became faint and the halls became darker and filled with the candlelight of night.

You continued to walk in slow steps as the weight of tiredness fell upon you.

Sounds of armor approaching caught your ears, nonetheless.

You breached the foyer of the grand staircase and turned to rest against the stones. Hands grasping the corners behind your back, you looked down the golden hallway to the armored guard approaching.

"Ser Erryk," you acknowledged as the light illuminated his features before you.

You felt the danger dissipate from your body.

"Princess," he spoke. His accent was notable among those who rallied between common-folk and high-born in the Crownlands.

In the years he and his brother Arryk had served the crown, your paths have crossed. They both presented a fine and reputable record of loyalty and devotion to the cause.

They were good men. A rarity, in the world as you lived it.

But Erryk had always captured your attention more than his brother had. Taller and more attentive to your sister and yourself, he had always caught your eye. You wasted countless minutes of your life simply looking at the knight in hopes that he would look back.

You had memorized his face in a matter of seconds.

"May I ask why you are following after me in such a haste?"

"Your Grace has asked me to escort you, Princess," he continued his approach without explicit permission.

As he came into a closer view, you took stock of the man. A strong face with determined eyes; lips plump and shoulders square yet fitted by the silver of his armor. He had a mole on the left side of his cheek above his lip.

He was beautiful. You were not sure you had ever seen a man with such refined beauty before he had joined the Kingsguard some three years ago. In the times his eyes caught yours in the midst of the chaos of your house, your opinion did not change.

You felt your heartbeat pulse faster.

There was something alluring about his eyes. So focused and intent on the subject upon whom he was speaking to, the unwavering devotion of his trade ever present beyond the armor he wore.

"I see," you muttered. "And what of Ser Thorne? He sees to be my escort often."

"Occupied, Princess. It is a busy evening for the family."

Erryk used your title in a way the others did not. He held it in such high regard, you felt.

You hummed and turned back toward the direction in which you were headed originally. The stairs loomed in the darkness like a warship approaching its moor. The wine that had settled let a small chuckle escape your lips.

"I do wish there were magic in these walls, Ser Erryk. Then I may simply float into bed and there would be no need to leave the nice party."

Erryk was not sure how to respond. He knew you not to be a silly woman. The eldest of Viserys' daughters had always appeared to him to be attentive and near motherly in the wake of Queen Aemma's death.

In the times he had spoken to you, you never feigned such girlish impulse before. It was new. And it surprised him.

Therefore, Erryk took his own leap of difference.

"Princess," he caught your attention and in the light, he wished he had never taken the oath.

Your eyes gleamed with such delight; pupils blown wide from what he deduced to be the wine of the evening and lips plush and slightly parted. The bodice of your gown fit every curve and plush part of your skin in an entrancing way that sent his mind to the places he neglected to attend to.

He knew of what the men in the Kingsguard did. He listened to the conquests of his brothers, both blood and by sword, while he refined himself to his oath.

But his heart nearly stopped at the sight of you. It had never happened before.

He felt ashamed for feeling such a way. For him to imagine what it would be to feel your skin above and below your skirts, listening to the soft sounds of content as he let his lips draw new patterns on your collarbones.

You were a Princess. He should not have such thoughts.

"If I may speak plainly?" Erryk asked you and you nodded for him to continue. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet.

"Dragons exist in this world. I do not see why magic could not exist as well. There are whispers of such people amongst the townsfolk. Though, I cannot say their rumors are true.”

The sides of your lips began to quirk up into a smile. "Yes. I suppose you are right about that."

You smiled at him and he could not look away. The sides of your eyes creased in delight in regard to the silliest of items: a childish want to be lifted into bed because your feet were too tired.

It was not often that a naive nature still remained in adults.

"Do you not wish to return to the celebration?" You queried. “I saw even Ser Harold tap his feet at the music.”

"I have a duty to you, Princess. The celebration will not miss me."

Erryk did not miss nor question the way your eyes flicked between his lips and his own eyes. He could not resist the urge to do the same to you.

You wet your lips with your tongue in a small jut. Your top teeth tug the bottom lip in before releasing it gently. Attention falling to the chest of his armor before you blinked in a rapid succession and he felt your body radiate a warm sensation.

You pulled the back of your hand to your cheeks to sense the heat.

“My,” you said breathlessly. “I seem to have let the wine get the best of me.” Sheepishly looking down, your gaze returned to him with doe-like admiration.

He felt the blood rushing. Erryk swallowed his nerves.

“It does happen, Princess.”

Your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage—you felt as though it were going to explode.

His eyes were piercing you. Dim in the light of the hall, you could barely decipher where he was truly looking but you felt the stare. You could have felt it a million miles away.

“Ser Erryk—“

Gustily, he cut you off. “Erryk, Princess. You may call me Erryk in confidence.”

It was your turn to swallow the nerves that built up in your throat. You observed him again and in the way he stood. An arm limp on his side while the other held onto his sword tightly.

There was no fear, nothing helpless within you.

Your curiosity painted what his hands looked like under the white gloves. How strong and handsome they must be to match the face of the man. You wondered how they’d feel pressed against you; holding you in ways no woman should wonder.

The feel of them on your breasts, the way they’d play differently than your own in the dead of night.

You released a staggered breath from your nose and he caught the shake that emitted from your chest.

“Erryk,” you clarified your previous mistake. "Please use my title sparingly, then. I wish to be informal when able."

"Of course," and he tried your name on his lips for the first time.

For the first time, you felt at ease.

"I've never asked, but do you enjoy the Kingsguard? After all that is asked of you, your brother, and those in the cloak?"

"It is a honor," he stopped himself short of using your title. "I cannot envision a life outside of it."

To be one of the seven to protect the family was the most profound honor. Only the finest of knights were bestowed the honor.

"I suppose you do get to sleep in the most grand of castles," you quipped.

"And you? Do you like being the daughter of a King?"

Erryk observed the way you pondered deeply. Even if he spent every waking minute with a family of high stature and of the utmost importance, he would never truly understand the perils that came with great privilege.

"Would it be silly if I said no?"

"No," he shook his head. "There are many who wish to be you, however."

"I do not envy them," your gaze saddened at the prospect.

"What is not to be envious about?"

"Freedom... or the lack-thereof it."

The wine was making you feel all sorts of ways that evening.

"Freedom," he reiterated. "That may be more rewarding than both of our positions, Princess."

You narrowed your eyes at him to which he returned with a sly, small smirk and his own look was playful. Erryk was subverting your expectations beyond a reasonable doubt.

Your heart leapt at the idea that he was dallying with you.

You were both young and engaging in a fools errand.

Down the corridor from which you originally came, footsteps began to heighten. You could barely make out the silhouettes of more guards making rounds.

"I wish to retire to my room, Ser Erryk," you called out loudly enough for those to hear.

In an instant, a wall had gone up between the two of you and the wine was drained from your body. Erryk offered his arm in the way a Lord would as you conquered the steps one by one.

The guards surpassed you by changing their route and following down another corridor as the two of you made it to the middle landing of the grand steps.

"Oh," you feigned in their absence.

"There was nothing improper of our conversation, Princess," Erryk reassured you.

Everything and the Gods were improper for a high-born lady–even one unmarried and passed over as an option of heir.

"I know," you replied, feeling the cold metal of his armor simmer the heat of your palms.

You continued up the stairs with him and did not let go once the journey was complete.

"Do you see me a spinster, Ser Erryk?" You asked him and once more, he found himself a loss for words in your presence. No other high-born lady would give conversation so willingly. Yet you always had in your short meetings together.

“Spinster?”

“I am a few years beyond my sister. I am unwed and untethered. Not ideal for a husband to seek, no matter if my father is the King.”

"I do not believe it appr–"

"I really do not mind," your face concentrated on the passage of doors and miscellaneous objects littering the living quarter hallways. "You are not a stranger."

"Nor am I a friend," he felt the need to clarify.

"Then what are you?"

You stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to look at him. The skirt of the dress twirled and scuffed his hand. His fingers twitched to grab onto it.

"I am a sworn member of the Kingsguard, Princess. I have a duty to your name, to the crown."

"And such forsakes you from being a friend?"

Lust.

"Do you wish me to be your friend?" He asked boldly.

In the same moment, a rumble of thunder roared through the sky. The open courtyard that found itself in the center of the wing of the keep whirled with a ruinous swirl.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing voiced itself into words.

“I do not believe that would be appropriate.” You completed his previous sentence.

The earthy thunder echoed in the sky.

"What would be appropriate?" Erryk tested the waters.

He sensed the colors of his white cloak becoming sullied by his own greed. He took a step forward as the rain began to spill from the clouds above.

"My young sister is to be married," you cautioned. "Before I am to be and I–"

"I cannot take a wif–"

"No," you shook your head and sighed. "I do not wish to marry."

"Princess."

"I do not want to be the wife of a Lord twice my age. I want to make my own choices."

Erryk saw the determination in your eyes. He and Arryk had the same as they left home and declared themselves to be willing trainees for the Kingsguard. They gave everything to live a life of stewardship.

"The guards spoke of your abstention," Erryk admitted. "How you abdicated your inheritance and now Princess Rhaenyra is heir to the throne."

"I am clear of the understanding that you cannot take a wife, nor bear any children. I do not seek that either."

Erryk breathed in deeply. "What do you ask of me, Princess?"

Your observances were flicks of nervous ticks. The way your gaze was scattered across the hall; shades of gray became wet with rain and the fires that lit the way began to waver.

"I fear I ask something the Gods deny me."

Freedom.

The two of you stared at one another for seconds before you turned away and returned walking in a wade of self-destruction.

As the rain poured heavy, chaos erupted in the Great Hall as it did in the quarters above. Erryk looked to the sky through the pillars of stone to listen for a sign.

The Gods rumbled in fury.

But Gods be damned.

The clang of his armor filled your ears faster than the force of his hand encircling around your bicep and spinning you around without much warning. His other hand grasped the bottom of your jaw, filling the space of your cheek and brought his lips impatiently to your own.

You could not hear the rain when time ceased to move.

Erryk's hand let go of your bicep and wrung an arm around your back to meet the top of your dress' bodice. His fingers gripped the back of it and you could feel the fabric of his gloves itching against your skin.

The giddiness of the anxiety that had formed with you made your hands shake. They found purchase on his chest plate. Erryk's thumb caressed your chin and then exchanged its position to the back of your head.

You broke the kiss in breathlessness before he brought his lips to yours again.

Your body buzzed without thinking.

There was no returning to the therebefore.

Not a year into Rhaenyra's marriage to Laenor did she give birth to her first son, Jacaerys, who appeared more like a common boy than a Targaryen.

In the following years, another boy was born with the same complexion and you questioned it not as she had come to you nine months prior and declared her third pregnancy happily.

It was an unkempt secret.

It was also one that you were fortunate not to share.

Ten years to the date of the wedding, both your and Rhaenyra's lives were inexplicably changed. Your father's condition worsened to where it was a battle to walk from bed to door. Alicent's ascent into her own form of motherhood rivaled Rhaenyra's as you kept your distance the best you could.

Alicent made efforts to get to know you better as an adult but you saw what she was. She was a devil disguised as a saint.

She was younger and tried yet to replace what your mother left vacant inside of you. You ignored her with what snide nature the Gods had granted you as you had gotten older.

It was your solitude that kept you sane as the keep grew louder.

That, and the life you kept in the shadows. Though, your nephews did bring a smile to your face.

"Jace!" You shouted with a laugh as the boy stumbled in the courtyard. His wooden sword went tumbling out of his hands after one strike from his brother, Lucerys.

They were so little and innocent.

"You must hold onto it if you want to be a great knight!"

"I was!" His little voice argued back as he went to pick up the word and Lucerys lifted his fist in victory.

Ser Harwin Strong stood on the sidelines of their small battle circle as you took a seat on the bottom step not far from their escapade. The yard was full of workers and knights, both those of the Kingsguard and City Watch.

"Not strong enough, My Prince," Harwin gave him a stern glare that sent Jace into a rigid stance wanting to prove his worth.

The boy was ten yet he wished to be a knight at that very moment.

"You must listen to your Aunt if you want to be a good knight," Harwin pointed at you to which you shook your head, scoffing at his words. "She has fought many a battle; can swing a sword as furious as an axe!"

Harwin laughed as you rolled your eyes.

You could see why Rhaenyra loved him. Why she would risk her entire being to bear his children in absence of Laenor's.

"You lie!" Lucerys accused him.

Harwin knelt down beside Lucerys. "I jest, My Prince. But you should know," he leaned his face closer to his sons, "your brother has a weakness..."

Harwin's voice went quiet and Jace put his arms up in defeat. You went to stand but as you gathered your skirt in your hand and went to push upwards, a hand was presented to you.

You looked up nearly blinded by the sunlight that peaked through the clouds and was met with Erryk's face.

He too had changed over the years.

His hair long was reminiscent of the Targaryen tradition of not cutting it so long as they remained the winner in battle. A beard now flocked his face in full but his heart remained the same.

"Princess," he mumbled as you took his hand, lifting yourself from the stair.

It had been two days since your last meeting but for both your hearts, the beat had not changed since the first night.

"Ser Erryk," you greeted. Lost in yourself, you neglected to drop his hand. "Thank you."

"I bring news. Princess Rhaenyra has begun her labors," he alerted you. “She has asked for your presence.”

You looked to Harwin and the boys, the prior already staring in your direction, eying Erryk with inspection. You dropped his hand in an instant.

"That is wonderful news," you replied with a kind smile. Erryk scanned your face for a sign of dejection at the admission. You noticed he had been doing that as of late and it irked you.

Harwin approached in heavy, quick steps.

"Ser Erryk," he greeted with a nod. "Are you to train with the boys today? Ser Cris–"

"I would not call this training," you clarified. The boys were but 10 and 6. "Play fighting may be more applicable."

"I came to tell the Princess that Princess Rhaenyra has begun her labors, Ser Harwin."

Erryk watched as Harwin's eyes contorted in a way he knew nothing of. A sliver of hope, joy, he was not sure. But it changed the way he felt inside.

"May the Gods grant the Princess good will," Harwin declared.

"Yes indeed," you added. Harwin glanced between the two of you as Erryk's eye-line focused on Jace and Luke putzing in the dirt.

“The Princes’ are most excited to meet their sibling. They have talked of nothing else for the past few days.”

“Speaking the truth, Ser Harwin,” you chuckled. “I pray it not be another boy for her sake. I do not know if she can handle such behaviors.”

Lucerys began to hit the ground with his stick in hard, deliberate strokes.

"I should distract the Princes then," he spoke lowly. "Thank you, Ser Erryk."

"Lord Commander," Erryk bid Harwin farewell as he walked back to the boys. Jace was occupied hitting the wooden sword on his feet and Lucerys came running towards the two of you.

"Ser Erryk!" The boy called jubilantly. "I took down my brother!"

"Oh?" Erryk responded in kind. "A very fierce battle ensued, I am sure."

"Yes! And I will do it again!" Luke smiled at him and it made your heart grow three sizes. “I wish to be a fine knight as you are, as Ser Harwin is.”

“One day, My Prince.”

"Luke," you looked down at the boy to which he put his small hand in yours. "I think it is time to choose an egg for the babe.”

The small boy's eyes lit up like a holiday. "Do you think so!?"

"I do," you squeezed his tiny fingers. "Go to your brother. Tell Ser Harwin that he must take you and then return you to your chambers once the egg has been collected."

Luke hugged at your leg tightly before running off to his brother with a screech.

"Take me to my sister," you told Erryk. "I must be with her."

"Of course, Princess."

Every corner of the keep was filled with spectators as the news of Rhaenyra's labors filtered through the castle. Erryk walked steadfast on your heels as your pace became more quick with noises of her strain making itself known.

"Gods," you said exasperated by her shouting.

"It will be alright," Erryk reassured quietly.

“I am inclined to say you have never seen a labor.”

“No,” he said quietly as you passed a guard walking in the opposite direction. “I have not had the privilege.”

“Far from a privilege, Erryk. It is gruesome.”

As her labor chambers came closer with your steps, the fewer guards and people were permitted in the hall.

"The Septa's once told us that boys were never easy. I fear this one will be a repeat of before."

"A boy?"

Without thinking, you replied: "the genes are far too strong."

But Erryk knew what you meant because in the corridors behind the walls of the keep, Harwin and Erryk had crossed paths in their escapes on more than one occasion.

He spoke your name and pulled at your arm to come to a stop outside of her chamber door. You could practically feel her pain emitting from the wood.

There were no guards standing watch outside of the door which you knew was the fault of the Queen.

"All will end well. Rhaenyra will see it to be true. Your sister is a hearty woman."

You nodded at him. "I know it to be so."

And you planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"Come find me tonight," you pleaded. "I wish to see you."

"I will do my best, Princess," Erryk glanced down the hall before cupping the back of your head and kissing you tenderly. "I will do my best."

"Oh," you gasped. The breath had been taken from your lungs as your airway cast a shudder. One of your arms around his shoulders, hand snaking itself to cradle the nape of his neck under his hair while the other hand danced along the side of his face and its thumb traced the line of his lower lip as a set of trembling pants melted together to make a seamless one.

Erryk's hands, worn and calloused from a day's work, trailed the sides of your body and traced the curve of your hips to your thighs. His grip wavered between the harshness you had craved for and his gentle mask.

“These days,” he grunted, teeth clenched tightly together as his jaw flexed with concentration, “have been unforgiving, Princess.”

It had taken him five days to find time with you after the birth of Prince Joffrey.

And so much had changed in those five days.

You lifted yourself up in a rhythmic careen as your heart began to pound against your chest. His eyes seldom left your face. Erryk watched for every bated breath and each staggered exhale while his hands helped guide your hips in genteel rolls.

Between your legs, the feel of his cock was slick and hot. Entering in and out, in and out as he helped try to ease the burn of your thighs working toward elation.

Your hand fell from his face down to his arms. A ghostly light dusting to meet his right hand that had been assisting your movements.

Loosely bringing his hand to your mouth, Erryk’s lips parted as you covered all his fingers with your own except the middle, and brought it to your lips. You kissed the pad of his finger gently.

As you kissed his finger, you lifted yourself from his cock to the tip. He waited for the cool air to hit but it never came as you sank back down and opened your mouth with a mewl as he filled you again.

At that moment, you took his middle finger into your mouth and wet it with your tongue.

He could not speak. For his words were lost in the warmth of your cunt and mouth as your tongue swirled around his digit with a wanton pant. Erryk let his head fall to your chest; lips lingering on the skin of your breasts with nipples taught and pert beckoning to him.

Erryk’s other hand loosened from your hip and grasped your left breast. He palmed the skin before squeezing and letting his palm run over the nipple. You sucked on his finger a bit harder at the sensation.

The hairs from his beard scratched your skin in an insatiable pattern. It was familiar in an exact moment where the past was no more and the future was everclear.

You wanted it memorized. You wanted it traced upon your body.

He tilted his head lower to latch onto your nipple before letting go with an audible “pop” against the lewd sounds of the room. It was morning but the whispered breaths of lovers and the sound of their coitus woke with the rising sun.

You released his finger from between your lips and he lifted his head. His eyes met yours and they glimmered with the same refractions of light one gets as the sun peaks between curtains.

His heart was as large as the sea.

“Lay down,” you wet your lips and held his hand no different than before.

Erryk used his free hand to keep you steady as he laid back on the bed. He bent his knees and planted his feet against the duvet to give you leverage.

“As the Princess commands.”

You bit back a smile. The butterflies in your stomach never ceased to exist.

With your hand eclipsed with his own, you guided his now wet finger down to your clit and he needed no further instructions. The pressure of his finger felt like a lightning bolt shooting through thunder. You gasped as your legs quivered in delight.

And then you smiled fully. Erryk smiled in return and Gods, did you feel the world open up before you.

You placed a hand on his chest before leaning down to kiss his lips still quirked upwards in a sheltered grin. The ministrations of your pleasure not stopped at the joy.

Erryk laid back against the ends of the pillows and watched you lift yourself back up, hand grasping his wrist of the hand to your clit, and began to move faster. He could not help but become entranced in the way his cock disappeared in your core. Your tightness aching for him as it became more slick every passing second.

You breathed in deeply. A hitch in your timber sent his eyes back to yours and you rolled your body deeply—feigning coy in the smoked out candlelight. He could not his gaze roaming the way your breasts moved with every bounce.

The sun was rising behind you.

Enchanting or entrancing, he was captivated as always by his royal woman.

With his hand on your hip, he raised it to trace your spine and felt your muscles begin to shake. Bumps on your skin from his touch made him groan.

You faltered and leant forward. Hands now planted beside his face, your eyes met his own and Erryk gave a small nod. He removed his finger from your clit and ran both hands up your back as you laid your weight on him.

He held you tightly and began to move his hips at an aching pace. Your eyes closed as you hummed in content. Erryk let his face fall beside yours, mouth beside your ear.

"Is this alright, my darling?" he barely whispered and you smiled, he could feel it.

"Yes," you gasped. "Yes."

He laid a kiss on your earlobe in response. With your eyes closed, you could feel bursting colors inside of you. You imagined them swirling behind you eyelids in intertwined wisps of reds and pinks. Yellows of happiness adjoined with the blues of bliss.

In the years you laid together, Erryk was not one to speak loudly nor much during those times. He admired you in its absence. Watching and waiting with bated breath of what pleasure would bring you and he to follow.

It was when he held you close that he felt the oaths he sinned against were foolish.

The touch of a woman, the touch of you, brought him a fantasy he'd never thought of chasing.

You inhaled deeply, legs shaking as he worked you to your orgasm with precision. You turned your head to capture his lips with yours; swallowing his groans when you utilized the last bits of your strength to move your hips at his actions.

Crying out as your body jolts, your right hand snaked itself into the hair that fell on the side of his face.

"Gods," you whimpered. There was little more you could do to hang on.

Erryk's low grunts matched his thrusts the faster they came.

He gripped the back of your thigh and brought your leg upwards, changing his angle. Your shoulders tensed at your growing inability to hold on. A string was snapping inside of you, waiting for it all to be enough.

And at once, it became enough.

You tilted your head upwards with a high-pitched gasp; the sound elongating the second he felt your muscles tighten around his dick and loosen a second later with a fury. He continued to thrust through your tremors. The jerking of your body erupting his own orgasm and with three thrusts, his breath became staggered and wanton.

Against his chin, you rested your forehead uncomfortably to gather yourself. A droplet of sweat beaded from your breasts pressed against his chest and to his skin.

As he recovered his own breathing, a hand of his own rubbed careless lines on your back. Erryk could feel the pulse of blood rushing to your center. He took his hand away from your back and brought it to your face to turn it to him.

Your breath was hot against him as he was certain his own was against yours.

"I apologize," his voice had grown ragged. He spoke softly yet you could hear the hoarseness of his throat. "For not fulfilling your request."

"Come find me tonight," you pleaded. "I wish to see you."

"No," you brushed back hairs from his face. "It warrants no apology."

Erryk sighed deeply. You moved a finger to trace the edges of his beard lightly. He looked at you with a furrowed brow. You pressed a finger to the worrying crease.

"What worries you, my love?"

He appeared hesitant to speak freely in that moment. The comfort of guilt had been eating at him as of late. Act that soiled his cloak in sin, he had forsaken his duty to chase what he had denied himself for so long.

It was the evening chatter amongst the Kingsguard as they sat for supper that churned in his stomach.

"I do not worry," he answered. You did not believe him.

"Your face tells different story, Erryk."

"Do you regret this arrangement, Princess?"

You stopped your movements and locked eyes with him. Just as your heartbeat had started to slow, it picked up again at a rapid pace.

"I– " you paused to find your words. "Where might have gotten that impression?"

"No impression," he clarified. "It was simply Princess Rhaenyra's children–"

At the mention of your sister, you lifted your hips and removed him from you with a shallow shudder before rolling to your side and sitting upright in search of your dressing gown.

"I do not wish to speak of my sister while I lay with you," you informed him. It had never been a subject discussed in the decade of knowing one another. "That is the last person I wish to think of."

"I do not mean it in that way."

"Then in what way do you mean?" You gathered the gown from the floor and put it on in rapid movements.

"It is no secret that the King continues to search for a Lord Husband befitting of your status," Erryk spoke as he sat in the bed you shared. "I never imagined–"

"What?" You drew defensive immediately.

Something deeper lingered inside of you. He knew nothing of the matter.

"When I swore the oath of the Kingsguard I did not imagine being the one who stands in the way of the King's desires."

"He does not know, Erryk. I stand in his way. I refuse the proposals."

"Because you love me."

"Yes!" You exclaimed. "I told you that I wished to carve my own life with what little power I do have of it. This," you stuck both hands outward to him, "is that power."

"And if he were to find out, my fate would be far more severe than being exiled to my homelands."

Ser Harwin left yesterday morning at the instruction of the King.

Rhaenyra would not see anyone in her quarters for hours.

You did not question his comment.

"Have you found someone else to warm your bed?" You asked an impossible question. Erryk let the sigh of disbelief pass his lips.

"I would not inflict such pain on you. Do you truly question my devotion? After what I risk to love you?"

A piece of you constricted with the knowledge you held. How this was likely your last morning together for some time and you were leading it to a deep crevice of spite.

"You question my own devotion for what cause?" You countered. "I do not regret this. I will never so long as I live because we chose to do this, together."

Erryk moved off the bed and slipped on his trousers and linen shirt with the ties undone.

"I do not ask out of a want to be removed from my circumstance."

"Then why ask it?"

"Do you never feel guilt? Of allowing me to besmirch your honor–"

"Please," you begged him and sat on the settee that was littered with books of old. "I do not wish to hear it."

You did feel some guilt. Guilt of a secret that had been eating away at you for a day.

The troubles of life had long settled itself within the walls of your chamber. These conversations had been occurring more often as of late and you knew not the cause but had a rousing suspicion that his honor, duty to the crown levied a darkening cloud over his consciousness.

The culpability of a sin unforgettable to his stature buried him. Now having witnessed the removal of the Lord Commander, and Hand of the King, for the consequences of lust weighed like torture.

A dam of large proportions was meant to break in the keep.

The blood of Rhaenyra's childbirth was still being washed from the halls and with it, the stones cracked under pressure.

Erryk picked up the pieces of his armor from the floor and laid them before himself on the bed. Ingrained in his mind, he assembled each piece to the best of his ability before moving toward you as the birds began to chirp outside of your windows.

The cool breeze of autumn filtered in through the curtains.

It was then he saw the wetness of your cheeks. A silent cry had formed in his wake and he had not seen it. He had given no time for care; he feared your needs were not satisfied.

Before he could stumble out words, you coughed out the admission.

"Rhaenyra is leaving for Dragonstone on the morrow."

Oh.

"She asked for my council... to go with her."

Erryk felt a terrible wall grow in front of him.

"I do not wish to leave you."

"Are you to go with her?" He asked.

A part of him knew the impossible task. He and his brother were inseparable. Being twins, perhaps it was expected of him to be close as thieves but the bonds of a sister had tethered two souls closer than even he could ponder.

He would die for his brother, as you would your sister.

"Yes," you cried. A sob escaped your lips and you let your head fall into your hands.

Erryk tossed his armor back onto the bed, kneeling before you and wrapping his arms around you as his heart stung.

"It is not my place to beg you to stay," he admitted. "You must do as your future Queen commands of you." Spoken like a knight.

"What if my leaving is the last that I will see of you?' You questioned. You lifted your head and cupped his face. "I love you, Erryk. I do not regret my actions."

"And I you," and instead of Princess, he said your name soothingly. "I speak in fear. You speak of what little you have, but with what I do have, my body and soul are yours to keep."

"I do not think I can bear being parted for long. I will not take a husband, I will not take another lover," you declared.

You made your sentiments known. He was not going to question it again.

"Nor I," he agreed. "Nor I."

You pulled your lips to his own.

"I wanted to tell you," you wept, “but I could not find you. I wished not for this to be our parting ways. I do not want to you to remember me this way."

"In what way?" He hummed with a strained, sorrowed smile. "You are as beautiful as the day we met. If this is to be our last moments together, my only regret is not holding you longer."

You let out a wet, sad laugh.

"We will find each other again," he reassured you. His blue eyes shining in the golden glow of morning as the sun blessed the skies in a red and pink dream.

"I swear it, by the old Gods and the new."

You rubbed your thumb across his cheek to catch a tear most of the Kingsguard would never admit to falling in the presence of their lovers. You nodded at him.

"I love you," you whispered.

You wouldn't see him for another six years.

The gates of King's Landing were tall and colored in an ugly terracotta.

You peered out the slim slivers the grated windows of the caravan allowed as it trudged the rocky roads along the shoreline of the city. Glimpses of a cooling fall air, the sun was shielding itself behind clouds with every inching second that wheels churned closer to the keep.

"Surely the city cannot have changed that much since our departure, good sister," Daemon's words were shrouded in a snicker. His eyes are always cutting and looking for a battle.

Eyes tearing themselves away from the outside, you looked at Daemon as he studied you.

"It has changed greatly, Uncle," you retorted. "Perhaps if you had spent more time canvasing it during the light of day you would be able to say the same."

Daemon's lips lifted themselves into a sly, cunning smirk as Rhaenyra shook her head.

"Must we bicker as such? Play civil for only a day and then we shall return home. Might we find some excitement beyond the boor?"

When Daemon became Rhaenyra's husband after Laenor passed, you wished your dragon would swallow you whole.

Rhaenyra said you were being dramatic.

"Vaemond is a peddler," you reassured her, taking her hand in yours and peering back outside of the slits. "Your sons have little to fear."

In the years that have passed over Westeros, every soul had been changed by the tenants of the Red Keep and those who watch over them like vultures at a feast. Rhaenyra's ascendance to Viserys' heir should not have been a catalyst for the pain suffered by those in their watch but yet it could not help itself.

Your fingertips ghosted the wooden edges of the carriage as the latches of the gates began to swing outwards and opening themselves up to you once more.

Rhaenyra understood that her sons had nothing to fret regarding their futures. Viserys had turned a blind eye for years and the sentiment would not change so long as he remained on the throne for the years to come.

She squeezed your tender fingers with her own.

Daemon's eyes wandered from the trusted hands of two sisters to his wife's face.

"I do wonder," Daemon cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat. His sheathed sword knocked the golden accents of the interior. "If there is something of worry for you, good sister."

Rhaenyra's face twitched. A challenge, he imagined.

"I've heard that the Queen has been looking to secure a marriage match for her children."

"Daemon, you forget yourself," Rhaenyra spoke. Your eyes were lost in the courtyard that began to form around you.

"She has evaded such for years," Daemon defended. "I know of no other high-born lady, a princess, who is beyond marrying age and still remains relevant. Alicent is playing chess against an enemy that stays hidden on a cliff."

"Why is the concern so pressing?" Rhaenyra questioned, her eyes narrowing as her hand gripped yours tighter.

"You said it yourself, if Vaemond has the will to bring into question Jace and Luc, then the family will fall into a pit before being able to hoist itself up again. A match may not be out of the question to cease the concerns of other houses who question our ability to rule."

"No." Rhaenyra shook her head. "My father-"

"Knows nothing. The green bitch does his bidding. We all know about it."

The wheels of the carriage struck a bump causing the three of you to lean in one direction before falling back. The sounds of Kingsguard and City Watch members clambering for the arrival of such a caravan began to make themselves known.

"Where do you hear such secrets, Daemon?" You tired of hearing your life being planned without your consent. You narrowed your eyes at the blonde man. "I am near twenty years elder of her children. I am far too old to be the wife of–," there was a part of you that could hardly speak it.

And Daemon chuckled at the prospect.

But then again, he was older than both you and Rhaenyra.

It may have been the proper way of great households, but it was one that you detested. You had seen what marriage had done to your sister, your family, and closest friends. So many lost to what they had known for the sake of alliances and duty.

The memories of your trysts lay present in your mind. He was there.

A piece of Rhaenyra and your mother's stubbornness had harbored itself into you for the last sixteen years when womanhood had finally made sense to you.

There had been a glint in Rhaenyra's eyes at one time and you'd be dammed if you let your family take that from you as well.

"Besides," you diverted. "Father has tried many fine men of great houses to force my hand and yet," you lifted a hand void of jewelry besides a golden dragon that slithered up ornately on your pointer finger.

"Trying times call for trying actions."

You needn't respond to Daemon for him to understand the conversation had ceased. Rhaenyra put pressure on your hand once more before removing it and placing her own back on her belly that grew another child of her and Daemon's.

Outside the caravan of black banners and red sigils, the scattered sounds of court disappeared behind walls rattled with the hooves of the steeds. The carriage came to a rough stop and Rhaenyra gave you a stressed smile.

There was no fond greeting for those who escaped to Dragonstone six years ago.

"I sense the welcome is not as it once was," you whispered to her. Her brows furrowed as she had not paid any mind to the sounds and sights beyond her small party. A sinking feeling landed at the pit of your stomach.

The clatter of tools and wooden planks stopped as the caller announced the members to descend the steps.

And as you thought, the welcome was as the keep had become: vacant of the reverence it once had.

Each member of the Targaryen's who had been nothing short of exiled for their own safety waltzed into the pit of a raging green beast with a poor reception on behalf of the crown the heir expected. It spoke plainly of the disagreeable nature floating between two sides.

With a creak, the doors to the Keep's entrance opened and one soul, Lord Caswell, looked ridden with worry which struck a chord within Daemon, Rhaenyra, and yourself. He approached the heir with a solemn face before bowing.

"Welcome home, Princess."

"Lord Caswell," Rhaenyra responded in kind. His eyes bounced between each of you. He hadn't welcomed any of you to the keep in six years time.

It was as though a century had passed in a second.

"The King is anxious for your return," he continued. "He spoke of nothing but for these past two days. As well as to see his grandchildren, so grown and presentable." Lord Caswell nodded at them.

"Take us to him, if you please, Lord Caswell. It has been a weary journey," Rhaenyra began to walk off as he stuttered.

"Surely you would like to rest first, Princess? I will have your things taken to the visiting quarters."

"Visiting quarters?" Rhaenyra questioned, stopping in her tracks. Daemon was on her heels and her eldest son, Jace, halted with the rest of the children beside you.

Your eyes danced around the courtyard in a silly hope to find a pair.

'Of course he would not be there,' you scolded yourself.

You wondered if you had changed since your last meeting. Would he be able to recognize the woman you had become in the desolate castle?

"The Queen has taken residence in your former quarters, Princess."

Rhaenyra paused before speaking with an understanding that while here on the business of securing her son's legacy, her bygone friend has seized more than just your father.

But as you took in the surroundings you envisioned a world differently than the one that presented itself to you now. One of freedom and without greed; no one playing a long game of power and where lives were not seen as pawns, but as people.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath. She held her hand to her stomach and rubbed a thumb across it gently as the overcoat she wore buried the chill with everything she had lost inside. She glanced at you as your eyes looked everywhere but hers and followed as they met every Kingsguard in the court.

She saw the light dim in the slightest.

"Lord Caswell," She spoke clearly, "take us to my father please." 

Seldom would have prepared you for the state your father was in.

Forced with an eternity of pain, Viserys was a shell of himself in the bed he laid. Each minute he suffered in the stillness of the Milk of the Poppy and it guided him only to lead him astray; every swing of an ax, a sword in the courtyard, would bleed the remnants of happiness that lingered in his dusty room.

He barely recognized you as you held his hand.

It struck your soul when he mistook you for your dead mother.

"Aemma," he croaked as though it took all his strength to talk."

Rhaenyra stilled beside you. You put on a brave face.

"No, father," you reminded him of you. "We are all here now."

He repeated your name brokenly.

"Sister," Rhaenyra approached you with her own son, Viserys by name, on her hip.

You had resigned yourself to inspect the dusty model of King's Landing that had once been a prized possession of the man who could not will himself to stand. The disease had overtaken his body to the point of immobility.

Viserys groaned in pain in his bed.

It was a sound you wished not to hear once more.

"Why don't you find your nephews and reintroduce them to the Keep?" She proposed. Her attitude was emitting more positivity than it should.

"I am sure they have already made their way," you took a finger and swiped it through the dust.

"And they could do well with a guide," she pressed.

You sighed, taking a glimpse behind you and surveying your father as he hid behind the curtains of his bed and cooed at Rhaenrya's other son, Aegon.

"He will be alright, sister."

"I do not share the same confidence, Rhaenyra."

She bounced Viserys on her hip. The boy played innocently with her hair without worry of the world evolving around him.

It was turning sour.

"Go to them," Rhaenyra ordered. "I would start at the training ground... you know how my boys are."

You heard the sound of swords before you saw them.

For once Daemon had been right about the Red Keep: it truly hadn’t changed from your time spent away. The same people found themselves completing the same mundane tasks each and every day until the Father called them home.

At the top of the long steps, you took in the sights you had missed.

It smelled of shit and metal. The people were loud and crowding around a scene of two men sparring along the edges of the yard. In your vision, Jace and Luke were fumbling through the materials they reminisced of as young children.

A chunk taken out of the stone, the wooden swords still available to train with.

You leaned against the barrister of brick. Below, just out of sight, two knights sparred in their time away from the king. Their fierceness caught the eyes of the two Targaryen boys who were in awe of the sights around them.

“Look,” Jace put his arm around his brother and pointed to Erryk and Arryk’s valiant efforts.

The eldest was in awe of such gallantry.

“It is just as we remembered, isn’t it?”

Luke watched as everyone stared at them unabashedly.

“They have always been valiant fighters,” Jace continued. “I remember Ser Erryk helping us adjust our stances. We were all but six and ten.”

"That was not Ser Arryk?"

Jace laughed. "Ser Erryk was the one to help you after I pushed you into that pile of horse shit when you were four. He gave the best advice about watching your opponents."

“And what good did that bring you?” Luke jested and received a slap on the head. He caught you monitoring them from above on the landing of the steps.

“It seems motherly is untrusting of us on our own,” he told Jace who clocked you watching before the sounds of metal swords clanging caught your attention.

“She will not object to us,��� Jace picked at the swords on the cart. “She let us hit each other with these same sticks when I was not yet ten. I do not think our Aunt minds if we explore our old home.”

“I do not think she cares about us at all,” Luke spoke of you as he watched the two brothers push one another backwards.

They let up with a shake of their hands and if he could tell them apart, he would say Arryk looked up at you and paused.

“Brother,” Arryk called to Erryk as the latter went to reestablish his footing.

“What?” Erryk heaved in a tired breath. “Again, Arryk. We do not have much time.”

“Brother,” Arryk now insisted and pointed his sword upwards to the tops of the steps.

When he turned around, it was as though all life paused around him. Two worlds gone completely still because for the first time in six years, you and Erryk had finally converged to one place. 

It took his breath away.

A/N: I lied! I made this into 2 parts because it was getting far too long. Next part will cover the reunion, more smut, and of course the remaining bits of Erryk’s story.

As always, thank you for reading. Comments and reblogs, as well as likes, are greatly appreciated. I loved that this character has captured our hearts so much. There truly are no small roles.

[n-i-m-u-e]

What if Rhaenyra had taken over the raising of her siblings

I'm going to write more detailed posts on each of these heds eventually (and possibly add more heds here)

Maybe I'm looking in the wrong area or missing something... But I'm surprised that there's almost no discussion of what would happen if Rhaenyra took over raising her younger siblings. I found literally ONE (1) fic about this and it`s shame! For example, if Alicent died giving birth to Daeron (yes, I'm willing to sacrifice her for that). And Rhaenyra, who shortly afterwards welcomed her first child and felt that incredible overwhelming rush of oxytocin love for Jace, couldn't stand looking at her dear friend's baby childrens (and to a lesser extent her younger siblings) who were left alone . It was obvious that Viserys was still Viserys and didn't really care for them. So Rhaenyra asked her father for permission to raise Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and the newborn Daeron alongside Jace and her future children. Sorry, but I'm just in love with this idea: Alicent's children receive the same amount of care, unconditional parental love and acceptance from their older sister as Rhaenyra's children (!!!)

Aegon grows quite calmly without greens pressure. He has plenty of attention but also a lot of freedom and, accordingly, doesn't try to drown out his anxiety about unwanted responsibility with alcohol and sex from a young age. But even when his adolescent interest in these things manifested itself, it is hard to imagine that his foster mother, represented by Rhaenyra, would have condemned or tabooed it. Most likely, she simply kept it under control and sent Laenor or even Harwin bc girl can dream to talk him about the birds and the bees

Helaena's prophecies will be heard. Rhaenyra spends quite a lot of time with her little sister. Because as much as she adores all her boys, it's the baby girl (long-cherished dream) who fascinates her the most way. Everyone around says that the child acts strangely for her age, but Rhaenyra doesn't see anything too disturbing in her behavior. Over time, she begins to pay more attention to what Helaena saying, and at some point she remembers Daenys the Dreamer

Aegon can make really funny and inoffensive jokes. One time at dinner, he decided to make a joke about Aemond's dragonless, and Rhaenyra looked at him with suuuuuch disappointment, that he never wanted to be the cause of her look 'like this` again

So yes, the boys never bullied Aemond because he didn't have a dragon. But Rhaenyra, who realised his need very well, supported the desire to get one. Perhaps at some point she told the family that she and Aemond would be away for a while and took him on Cyrax's back to Dragonstone, where they stayed for several weeks. But when they finally returned to the capital, Aemond was riding Vermitor.

Aegon and Helaena were not engaged and didn't get into an unhappy marriage later.

Daeron is definitely staying in King's Landing. Because there is no way Otto would have any leverage! But the main motive for Rhaenyra was the inadmissibility of the little boy being cut off from his home, and heritage. And most importantly, Daeron and Jace grew up practically like twins and could not bear to be separated even for a short time.

Aemond is this one, who is most outraged about the rumors about the ancestry of her older sister's children and takes it as a personal attack. Because… because he has very personal reasons!

At Laena's funeral, Helaena approaches her grieving cousins and hugs them one by one, and then says something to Rhaena something about ‘the morning will fix a lot of things’. No one understood at the time, but the orphaned girls were visibly comforted, and for the first time in her life, Helaena Targaryen had friends.

Aegon was going through a phase of severe pre-pubescent crash in Rhaenyra and for several months in a row he tried to challenge Laenor to a ‘death duel’ to ‘free his sister from the chains of marriage’. A few years later, when Laenor ‘died’, it was Aegon who took it the hardest of all the children.

Aemond has the better (perfect) Valyrian pronunciation and two eyes:)

to be continued...

my apologise for any mistakes, english is not my native language and I typed this in a rush at my office instead of the royalty report

[jacespookiebear]

.ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 4

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as Y/n “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, age gap (reader is 3-4 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, angst, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

Lady Laena Velaryon had passed.

A sadden death to many, especially to House Velaryon. You had heard that she died by the hands of her dragon, Vhagar, rather than by child birth. Your Uncle, Prince Daemon, had to witness it. You frowned at the way he grieved during her funeral but you needed to remember that others have different ways of grieving and how qyou need to be there for your uncle and House Velaryon.

Though, Daemon wasn’t the only one who you needed to be there for. Jace was also grieving as well. Ser Harwin Strong had died in a sudden fire, along with the Hand Lord Lyonel Strong, in Harrenhal, on the same night they had arrived. Ser Harwin was dear to your sister, Rhaenyra, and her sons, and to you as well. He was nothing but ever so kind and made you feel safe around his presence. You did not want to cry but you could not help yourself, feeling Lysanna’s tug on your arms made you feel safe.

Daemon had laughed when they were reciting the eulogy during her farewell. He was a strange man from what you had witnessed. You watched from afar as he overlooked the sea. Without letting a sigh out—you held your breath as you walked towards him, only wanting to bring some sort of comfort to your dear uncle.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, uncle.” You slowly bowed your head, not wanting to look up at him but you did anyways, slowly. His eyes were already on you. The way he stared made you feel small in his presence, the way his eyes looked over to you, noticing your Valyrian features as he did so.

Daemon said nothing.

“It has been rather a long time since I had last saw you,” unable to stop your attempts, you walked closer to him. He continued to not say anything as he finally looked away. “It pains me that we had to reunite under these circumstances.”

With moments of silence, felt like eternity before at last, Daemon finally spoke, “It is true, what they say about you, the Realm’s Beauty.”

You felt yourself become warm at the sudden compliment, looking around to place your sight on—you saw your step-mother, whom looked back with disappointment, you were aware of her dislike of the Prince Daemon.

“Thank you, uncle,” you gave a small smile, “I hope to chat with you more.”

Daemon said nothing else, and nodded before he walked away. Your eyes never left the widowed man as he strode off but moments later, you found yourself near your young brother’s side. Lysanna was there as well, happily chatting with Aemond before Aegon had ruined it.

”We have nothing in common,” Aegon said with disgust, standing beside you, watching Helaena whisper to her long legged creatures she had found. Without much resistance, you gave him a soft punch in the side to force him to straighten up. You were told by Rhaenyra that Alicent had betrothed Aegon and Helaena, it was a way to show she rejected Rhaenyra’s proposal and it only crushed you to know Helaena will now have to suffer.

“You will respect her. She is to be your wife and bear your children!” you whispered and hoped no one could hear. There was no doubt that you had a few on-lookers who were watching you and Aegon. The younger prince sent you an annoyed look and nodded as if he will he listen to you.

“Our sister,” you started and he half-listened, “needs someone who will be able to at least do the minimum of honoring her.” you muttered, looking down at your feet as Aegon only scoffed. You cleared your throat in hopes of the tension to disappear, you decided it was best to move away but before you could, your brother forced you to look up at him by grabbing your jaw, the act made nearby guests look over—mainly your brother, your nephew, and Lysanna.

“Do you think you can manage?” he whispered, stealing a glance at your shocked expression. He watched knowingly as your confidence fades from your face at his comment. Replaced with fury and determination shining in your lilac eyes.

“Dear sister, you should remember,” Aegon continued as he did so, not bothering to care what the others might think of the scene. You quickly placed your hands on top of his, trying to pry him off. “You were once promised to me.”

You saw across the room, your nephew, who looked back at you with worry painted on his face. Jace started making his way towards the both of you, clearly with the intent of helping you until he was stopped by his mother. In mere seconds, you roughly shoved Aegon away, making him stumble. He did not care to look back as he almost tripped on his own feet.

“Wench! Another!” Aegon cried, continued stumbling while other guests watch with displeased looks. As you straighten your dress, you gave a smile to the guests—in hopes, that scene is now forgotten. Aemond shook his head in disappointment, and then his hand lightly held out for you. It’s only then that you realize that your young brother, Aemond, is trying to help you. Lysanna, quickly making you sit on the nearby bench and handing you water to help.

Aemond’s expression was confusing. He snuck a glance over his shoulder to give one last glance towards Aegon before staring at the sea. “I’ll handle Aegon soon,” he doesn’t look at you when he says this. You feel yourself tense at his words and you tried not to look shocked, instead you tried to seem strong for your lady-in-waiting and younger brother but it was much harder than you thought. “I promise, sister.”

You wanted to know his thoughts. Wondering what he is planning to get back at Aegon.

“It is alright, Aemond.” you smiled, confusion and sadness written all over Lysanna’s face. Aemond watched you try to reassure them that you were fine but they truly knew what you were feeling. It drove Aemond mad to the point he was shooting daggers at anyone who was peeking at you.

”I won’t let anyone hurt you.” that was all he whispered, he didn’t want anyone to hear what he had just said—including you and Lysanna.

You held tightly to Lysanna, who only hushed you to relax. She gently tangled her hand into your silver locks until you decided that you were okay and reluctantly, she let go and you made your way to Aemond.

“Listen, my sweet brother,” you softly kissed his forehead, he frowned. “forget what had happened.”

Aemond was still not convinced by your attempts, he honestly wanted to go up to Aegon and punish him for what he had done to you—Aegon publicly humiliated you. Your focus was soon taken off of Aemond and you see Vhagar with Meraxes, roaming the clouds as she wails sadly for her dead rider.

An idea popped in your mind, one that could certainly help your brother put his mind off what just happened, “Vhagar is now riderless,” you whispered, as you traced your fingers on his hands, “you should explore the island to find her and watch from afar.”

With the encouragement, Aemond became a little happy with what you said. Although, he couldn’t forget what had happened, he knew you wanted him to let it go but it was hard to—Aemond decided to drop it for now and nodded at your words. You placed a one final kiss on his forehead and watched him be on his way with Lysanna.

As for you, you decided to sit back down on the bench and look over at the crowd to ease your mind.

“What did Aegon do? I want the truth.”

Your nephew, slightly surprised you when he sat next to you. Jace gave you a stare—you tried so hard to avoid, you didn’t want to answer the young boy. Wanting to not give him any reaction but to no avail, you were tearing up.

“My Prince, it was a simple disagreement..it was nothing-..”

“I saw! He hurt you!”

“Don’t be foolish, Jacaerys. He was only whispering into my ear.”

Jace immediately grabbed onto your arm, squeezed it, he knew you were lying. He always knew whether you would tell the truth or not. “You don’t have to keep lying to me. I will always know.”

His tone sound determined but the look on his face told another story—he looked worried for you. You slightly shook your head and began picking at your skin to distract yourself, your skin became irritated by the minutes.

“I am fine, Jace.” you strongly assured, finally turning your head to face him, and gave him a sweet smile. “It is I, who should be worried for you.”

He did not answer back. You both sat there in silence, you didn’t know what else to say to help the atmosphere become better. It was dreary—like always.

”I saw you were with your cousins,” You slowly spoke up, watching the waves fall and rise with Jace looking at the same direction. As much as you tried to bring the mood up, Jace did not react.

“Mother only wanted for me to comfort them,” Jace claimed, you heard some annoyance in his voice as he said that. “I did not want to.”

The twins were continued to be comforted by their grandmother, Rhaenys—who mainly kept her focus on the girls during the whole funeral. It made you held sorrows for the girls—having to lose their mother at such a young age. It made you remember how you lost your own mother, and brother.

No…you did not lose them. You killed them.

“You should not be so cruel,” you answered as you took your attention off the girls. “It is likely that you will soon be betrothed to Princess Baela.”

Jace snapped his head to look at you, “What?!”

You only laughed at his reaction, “Yes! And then you both will marry and she’ll give you heirs to the Iron Throne.”

“I do not want to marry her!”

“But you must! My sister—your mother, would be a fool to not propose the idea.”

“If I marry her, it would be out of duty! Not out of love and never will be!”

Shocked—That was not the reaction you had expected. Jace did have a temper but it was rare when he would lash out on you. He let go of your arm with much force and stomp off as you called out for him to come back, wanting to just explain what you had meant and apologize. Though, you gave up.

Walking through the crowd, going unnoticed was particularly hard when guests would bow their heads to you or would try to talk. You were rather tired and wish to head inside the castle to rest. You were able to chat with your father before he decided to join you as well to head back inside the castle to also rest.

The cold air in your room nipped at your skin, but you were soothed by it.

Your handmaidens had started attending to you in your guest chambers that you share with Lysanna. They unlaced your black dress and helped you out of your corset while undoing your braided hair that was kept in a updo, naturally, your hair curled from the braids and it had looked very gorgeous on you. As they took off your underdress, you placed your precious rings by the bedside for safekeeping. The handmaidens put you in a silver nightgown that reached your knees and had extremely long silts on the sides of the gown, the chest area was lined with golden lace and a tied ribbon. As you thanked your handmaidens before watching them excuse themselves from your chambers, you were now underneath the covers of your bed that was facing the opposite direction to Lysanna’s bed.

The starry night sky outside the window had stolen your attention—you began to count each of the stars until you had the ability to fall asleep. You caught glimpse of a dragon roaming the skies once again, with your eyes squinted to see if you weren’t imagining it but you were right. The dragon was too big to be Sunfyre or Caraxes but too dark to be Meraxes or Dreamfyre.

It must be Vhagar having a nightly stroll, you thought. With a yawn, you began drifting into slumber. It felt like a quick nap until you were roughly shoved to wake up. From the sudden shove, you quickly opened your eyes to see your handmaiden, who looked rather scared. You had no time to react before she pointed to the hall for you to follow in pursuit.

Shoeless and robeless, you ran down the halls with your handmaiden leading the way before you stood in front of the great throne room of Driftmark castle, everyone was up, including the King.

“There she is—the Princess! I am sure she knows what had happened.”

“You dare accuse my daughter? She certainly had no part in this!”

Under the eyes of the people in the room, you felt naked in front of them. Wearing nothing but your nightgown.

Queen Alicent stared over to you, a frown upon her face “My dearest,” you were unaware of what was happening before Rhaenyra held onto your shoulder, protectively, as she glared at the Queen.

You look to see your nephews, holding onto each other—bloodied and frightened. The sight almost put tears in your eyes while your mind was racing with so many worries before you had turn to see Aemond, who was seated on a chair, with a wound that was stitched on his left eye. At the mere sight, you feel eyes widened and you immediately cried out,

“Aemond!” you yelled in shock and quickly ran to your brother’s side. Panicked, certainly, you looked at his stitches while your brother refused to face you. There was shame across his features as he said nothing to you. “What has happened to my brother?! Tell me who done this to the Prince?!”

“Ask your nephews, sweetheart.” Alicent had said, her voice full of sorrow as she glared at them from across the room. Looking across the room, you saw your nephews continuing to cling to each other. Their injuries were nothing compared to your brother’s but still, you couldn’t help but give them a sadden look, you were still worried for them. “They were the ones who permanently damaged your brother.”

“Surely…there’s must be a misunderstanding, my Queen..”

You did not have time to defend your nephews before Alicent grasped your shoulders. The gasps of the audience falling on deaf ears. You were forced to look inside the Queen’s desperate eyes.

“Have you encouraged Aemond to mount that creature? Speak the truth! The whole of it!” she shouted, pleadingly. You winced from the tight grip she had on you.

“I have no idea what you’re implying!” you said with confusion. Rhaenyra wanting to come to your rescue but quickly, Lord Corlys stopped her.

”Alicent! Let go of my daughter at once!” The King ordered, the Queen held her eyes upon you before she had finally let go of you. She began realizing what she had done to you, and softened her gaze before trying to soothe you by holding you into her arms. Whispering in your ears that she did not mean to hurt you and how she only wanted your piece of the truth.

“The Princess had nothing to do with it, cousin.” Lysanna quickly came to your defense. She absolutely looked petrified but tried staying strong—only for you. Her expression filled with emotions that it broke you into pieces.

“It is the truth.” Aemond added, he lied. For you.

As questions were asked, the children only started to shout many things:

“They attacked me!”

“He attacked Baela!”

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“He was gonna kill Jace!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I only wanted to see Liz!”

“SILENCE!” your father yelled, it echoed through the halls and it immediately shut everyone up. You all stood there—not knowing what to do or say. Your father turned to order Lysanna to speak of what happened.

With a nod, you let go of Lysanna as she was forced to be the center of attention, Alicent had kept herself nearby, wanting the truth so desperately.

“Aemond and I had came across Vhagar as we explored the island,” Lysanna explained, she clinged onto her fur coat as she spoke, “Aemond was successful on bonding with the large dragon, he wanted me to come along on dragonback. When we came back, the children were there, waiting for us…it was unfortunate, many harsh words were said..but it happened so quickly..I couldn’t do anything except watch.”

Once Lysanna had told what she had witness (though, you believed she left out very important details in hopes to protect the boys.) She stayed by your side, clasping her hand into yours, you felt her palm laced in sweat. She was nervous.

“Aemond called us…bastards.”

You froze. You turned to look at your nephew. He separated himself from Luke while staring in your eyes. You didn’t know what to say.

“Jace..” Rhaenyra cautioned and gently pulled him by his shoulder and brought him close.

Stunned silence filled the crowded room and you feel yourself struggle to process what Jace had said. You analyzed your nephews—Luke had blood covering his face, dried tears had stained his cheeks. Your poor nephew clouding your mind, the sweet child is the youngest out of everyone and yet had to hear those words from your brother.

Aemond flinched at the way your father spoke to him. He stared back at you, but he didn’t say anything, he knew you were disappointed in him. The expression on him was filled with shame when you turned away.

“You tell me, Boy. Where did you hear this lie?” Viserys demanded, Aemond only continued to sit in silence, “I asked you a question. Aemond, Look at me.” you winced at the way your father tried to pry the answer out of your brother, “Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

He was hesitant to answer, looking over to his mother for help but quickly Viserys followed his gaze. Not only seconds later, Aemond finally answered,

“It was Aegon,” Aemond responded, “Right after he had put his hands on the Princess Y/n, as a fit of rage.”

Even if you were enraged with Aemond right now, he still kept his promise.

He was going to protect you. No matter what.

“What? Me?”

Aegon was baffled by the way Aemond quickly lied and threw him under the bus.

King Viserys limped his way towards Aegon—absolutely disgusted by what he was told. You had not expected the many eyes that were placed on you once again. But after hearing about the Prince assaulting you, it was to be expected. They had witness the developing bruise that was on your jaw and neck.

“And you, Boy?” Viserys seethed, his words filled with venom. You felt your hands tightly clinged to Lysanna’s. “You dare lay your filthy hands on my daughter? Your elder sister?” Viserys fumed, Aegon had avoided his fury gaze, avoiding to answer the King for what he had done to you. “And where did you hear such calumnies?…Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

In mere seconds after Viserys had yelled once again, Aegon was forced into spilling, but it was clear that he was nervous from the way he flinched,

“We know, father,” Aegon responded, “we all know..just look at them.” he turned to give your nephews a look of disgust, one that you would not forget.

Rhaenyra sighed as she comforted her young boys from the embarrassment that was laid upon them. You stared at your feet and felt someone hold your hand. Looking to your side, it was your nephew, your instinct had you quickly burying him in your embrace. A desperate sigh left your lips. Jace laid his head on your chest and held onto your waist, protectively. Even if the tension in the room became thicker because of what Aegon said, he tried his best to seem strong. His eyes filled of rage while they wondered on Aegon and Aemond.

Everything had come to a simmer when Viserys announced, desperately:

”This interminable infighting must cease, all of you! We are a family! Now make your apologies and show good will to another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!”

Alicent tiredly scoffed and began pushing even more, “That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. “Good will” cannot make him whole.”

Viserys turned around and looked at her, “I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it had been taken.”

”What would you have me do?” Viserys asked, exhausted.

“There is a debt to be paid.”

You watched eagerly as Alicent argue with the King. If you had not known what Aemond had spurred out then you would’ve understood the Queen and her frustrations. But your brother had accused your sister’s family. Serious accusations that could have them all killed.

A silence overtook the room once again and your eyes trained over to Alicent. She looked over at Rhaenyra.

“I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.”

The crowd all collectively gasped.

Aemond looked towards your nephew. Jace’s heart pounded against his chest. Instinctively, wrapping your arms around your nephew, you held him close as you moved to stand in front of your other nephew, Luke.

“My dear wife,” Viserys’ eyes widened at her suggestion.

”He is your son, Viserys. Your blood!” Alicent sobbed.

Viserys walked towards her, “Do not… allow your temper to guide your judgement.” He warned, but it could not reach Alicent.

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will.” She insisted, “Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” She ordered, mercilessly.

Luke panicked. You could see the fear in your sister’s eyes as she threw her sons, Lysanna and yourself behind her, as a way to protect all of you. You gave Lysanna a look of pure shock as she returned with the same look on her face as well. You both were still under the confusion of what is happening right now. Lysanna never knew this side of her cousin, Alicent.

“He can choose which eye to keep,” Alicent decided, “a privilege he did not grant my son.”

Rhaenyra sharply maintained her composer, “You will do no such thing.”

”Stay your hand.”

”No! You are sworn to me!” Alicent commanded.

Ser Criston muttered, with the intent of following orders from his Queen, “As your protector, my Queen.”

“Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?” Viserys asked, firmly. Alicent returned the look back to him, figuring. “And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the brith of the Princess Rhaenyra’s children shall have it removed.”

“Thank you, Father.” your sister gratefully expressed , nudged the four of you to head to your chambers. Suddenly you heard screams of your youngest nephew. Frantic voices, terrified eyes, witnessing Alicent making her way towards you and your family. You came into view, trying to protect your family from the Queen until you were roughly shoved,

“Hold your approach—!”

”Do not, Ser Criston!”

You were now being shielded by Lysanna who faithfully moved her arm before you from Ser Criston who had tried to come after you, it seems, but your uncle caught on what the sworn knight was trying to do and immediately protected you by holding off Ser Criston. You panicked as Rhaenyra forcefully pushed Alicent back. The Queen had a blade in her hand. The same blade that your father had shown you many times since you were just a babe. A blade passed down from the Conqueror himself.

“You have gone too far.” Rhaenyra urged.

Alicent fought back, she looked exhausted, like she had finally snapped, ”I? Have I done? But what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law…as you flout all to do as you please.”

“Alicent! Let her go!” your father’s demands fell on deaf ears.

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again. You have poisoned my sweet cousin’s mind, took off with my daughter, and now you take my son’s eye, and to even that, you feel entitled.” Alicent continued.

Rhaenyra felt twisted at those words and only showed more authority.

”Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness.” your sister had whispered something that you cannot hear nor the people in the room. Once the two finally separated, the slice of the sword echoed in the room, you and Lord Corlys had immediately caught your sister before she could stumble, everyone all watched in fright as blood dripped from Rhaenyra’s arm.

The blood was as red as the color of your gowns, the gowns you wore of pride and honor to show loyalty to your house.

Once the weapon fell to the ground, Alicent had realized, she had hurt the Princess.

Your brother got up from his seat and made his way towards his mother, “Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye but I gained a dragon.”

The words were now forever embedded into your head. Your face broke at the fact that this whole thing was mainly your fault.

If you had not encouraged your brother to the point that he took the liberty of even approaching the huge beast,

then his eye wouldn’t be gone, the question of your nephews’ parentage wouldn’t have finally been answered,

and the last essences of what bond the Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent had, was gone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the day after, you had spoken only a few words. You were mute. Lysanna tried desperately to help you out of your mood, but you continued keep your head down and your lips were shut while in front of the vanity as she did your hair. Even when she let your nephews in the chambers, instead of quickly embracing them and giving them a bright smile, like always, you did not turn your head to greet them.

Luke turned to look at you with worry, tissues shoved up his nostrils. Jace’s forehead stained with dry blood while having bruises scattered around his face. You could not face them. You knew you caused it all. Your guilt was eating you up from the inside. You wanted to just curl up in a ball and sink in the tub.

“Please don’t be sad, auntie,” Luke frowned, as he placed his head on your lap, worriedly. “It hurts me to know I am the cause of your misery.”

With your eyes watery, you bit your lip in shame. You pet his head, gently, while you still kept your head from looking anyone in your chambers. You desperately hushed your nephew to not cry, you wish to be strong for Luke so you continued to keep your composer.

Lysanna startled once seeing her cousin, the Queen, enter the chambers, unannounced. She looked panicked and nervous from what you could see in the vanity mirror. Lysanna, protectively, stayed by Jace’s side as you strengthen your grip on Luke.

The Queen cleared her throat as she played with her fingers, refusing to make any eye contact with the young Velaryon princes who were staring over at her, “I wish to speak with the Princess,” she quietly explained herself, “if that is alright..”

“Liz, please escort the princes to their mother,” you ordered, with a gentle tone and Lysanna only nodded and took Luke’s hand before leading the boys out of your chambers.

“What is it that you wish to speak of, my Queen?”

“Please…my dearest, I only wish to see if you’re well-“

“I am feeling well,” you spoke over her, without turning your head to acknowledge her. “if that is all then you may go.”

You saw her from the mirror that her frown only appeared sadder, she eagerly scratched her hands from anxiousness while not making a move to leave. It irritated you to the point you wanted to yell at her to leave.

“Rhae-“ Alicent stopped herself quickly from finishing what she was about to say, she looked disappointed. You wanted to know what she was gonna say though, she looked like she regretted it.

You gotten up from your seat and made your way towards her, she took a step back from how close you were.

“Do you understand what you had committed last night?!” you frustratedly shouted, “You had hurt the heir to the Iron Throne and even attempted to take my nephew’s eye! You have gone mad!”

As she stood still, she muttered under her breath, “Nothing I could say would fix what had happened but I do feel guilt, I really do. I was exhausted and shouldn’t have hurt the Princess.”

You continued to look at her with disgust and anger. Alicent wanted to win your favor back, it was clear by the way she wished to have you in her arms, she wished to relive the memories where you were a child and begged for her warmth, where you would sleep in her bed many times, where you would always sit by her side after feeling lonely.

“My eldest daughter…” Alicent pleaded, you could not describe what emotions you wanted to show and what emotions you wanted to hide.

“But I am not your daughter,” you started, she looked shocked at your words, you ignored her, “why do you try to convince yourself—everyone around us, that I am?!” You asked, bitterly.

Tears ran down her cheeks, she looked so scared, “You are my miracle,” she promised, “once you were born, I made a promise, to you, to your mother, to the King, that I would see you only as my own.” Alicent sniffled, you looked so heartbroken from once she mentioned your late mother. “You are nothing but my eldest daughter and I will continue to see you as that.”

“You were something close I had to a mother…” you muttered, your voice was betraying you. It was cracked and your step-mother had only tried to reach out for you but gently, you shrugged off her touch and she quickly retrieved her hands. “Even if I see you as a mother, it does not take away what you had done last night. You and your father made sure that our house is forever split into two!”

“We could savor the bond! It is not too late, my dearest-“

“And what bond of there is left?!” you angrily shouted, “you had shattered the last remaining of it.”

“I am sure I can savor it,” she assured, panicked, “once I have, then, you can come back to King’s Landing!” she gave you a reassured smile, more like she wanted to reassure herself than you.

You scoffed at her words.

She kept pushing, “You could pick whom to take to wed. Or I could annul the betrothal of Helaena and Aegon, you could marry Aegon and be his Qu-“

You audibly gasped at her words and cut her off before she could finish, “My Queen, have you not heard?! Have you not remembered what he had done to me? To Liz? To Helaena? To the handmaidens? How could you love me and yet want to see me suffer!?”

She seemed to search desperately for a response, “You and Aegon are a far better match! You are among the only ones who could help him become stronger,” she defended, missing your point entirely.

“I am already betrothed.” you spit out. You spurred out anything that has come to mind, a lie. A lie that could have you punished heavily for it.

It was Alicent’s turn to gasp, she look shocked. Shocked from how she did not know this.

“This…”, she turned away from you as she spoke quietly, “..this cannot be…”

“To whom?”

You weren’t prepared for that question. You did not know who to say. It was too late. You gulped before answering,

“To the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

LORDDDDDDD😭😭 hehehe tysm for over 100 followers I appreciate it sm <3 you guys are so sweet for bringing attention to this fic! I am literally working day and night to upload chapters quicker😩 I have already wrote chapter 5 and 6 (Ik so fast) all I have to do is proof read and send them to my friend to check it first lol!!

taglist (woohoo!): @sigynxlokiwifelover @writer-lee5 @audigay @urmomsgirlfriend1 @cold-v0dka @cookielovesbook-akie @theoriginalwife000 @xoxovenusquinn (would not let me tag u:(

[blakeswritingimagines]

You Marry Someone Else

Aegon: I'd have to say he'd react to it with a mix of emotions. Of course, he'd be happy for you if you found someone who makes you happier then he ever did. But at the same time, he'd definitely feel a sense of regret… and a bit of envy. Seeing the person he loves be with someone else, it doesn't exactly feel good. He would undoubtedly feel insecure and threatened, as he contemplated the future you might've have had together if this fate had not come to pass. He would wonder why you did not choose him. What you saw in this other person that you did not see in him. And he might even question his own worthiness to be loved.

Aemond: He would do what he must to stop whatever you thought was going to happen. He will not be a cuckold, a laughingstock, the man who stood aside and let his love marry another?. No, the love of his life will be his and his alone. With every fiber of his being , he would fight to the death to keep you from marrying anyone but him. No other man is worthy to have you as his for life.

Jacaerys: He would be greatly saddened that the person he has come to care for so deeply has chosen another over himself. However, he would not attempt to prevent the marriage from occurring. Instead, he would attempt to distance himself from the situation, in order to allow himself time to grieve and move on. He would also remind himself that it is possible for multiple people to be deserving of love, and that just because you have fallen in love with another person does not mean you can't also care deeply for him.

Lucerys: His heart is broken. He will not seek another marriage. You will forever remain in his mind and in his heart. Despite all of the political and personal reasons, he will always care for, and love you. He'd be a bit disappointed, but ultimately he wouldn't object if you found someone who you truly cared about. It's your life, not his, and you deserve to make your own decisions about it. He'd never stand in the way of your happiness.

Rhaenyra: To see the love of her life wed to someone else would be, undoubtedly, one of the darkest moments of her life. Her heart would feel as if it were being twisted in her chest, knowing her love was with another. She would be wracked with grief and loss, her mind running over the memories you both have made together, and the many hopes and dreams that have been shared.

Daemon: He would feel both hurt and betrayed by the news. He would be upset to know that you who he had once loved and wished to marry, is now the partner of another. He would also be angry with himself for not having done more to win your hand when he had the chance. It would be a difficult thing to accept, but he would have to move forward and try to put the past behind him. However, the thought that you are now with another would eat away at him for some time, leaving him feeling sad and despondent.

Alicent: If someone she did not choose to marry for herself decided you wanted to marry someone else, she would be enraged beyond all measure. She would not let her betrothed go easily, but if you were adamant that this was what you wanted, she would have no choice but to acquiesce. She would do what she could to prevent the marriage, but if she failed, her resentment and wrath would be the stuff of legend.

Helena: She would be heartbroken if you were to marry someone else. She loves you with all of her heart, and to think of you sharing that love with another person would break the very fabric of her soul. It's impossible to think of you not by her side, not sharing her every joy and sorrow, every triumph and defeat. She would never get over such a loss, and she would do anything in her power to prevent it from happening.

Harwin: He'd be a bit disappointed, but ultimately he wouldn't object if you found someone who you truly cared about. It's your life, not his, and you deserve to make your own decisions about it. He'd never stand in the way of your happiness even if you are what he wants.

Cregan: He would challenge the person to a duel. He would win even if he had to cheat. No person alive can best him in battle. Once they're gone, you will marry him and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it. He would be forced to take drastic measures to prevent you from marrying another. He would not hesitate to kill anyone foolish enough to stand between him and his true love. And if you did not see it his way, he would force you to comply with his wishes. You are his destiny, and he would do whatever it takes to prevent you from marrying anyone but him.

[witchthewriter]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐟 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞?

Inspired by @nightingale2004!

Personally, Rhaenys would've been an absolutely brilliant ruler. One that would rival that of Jaeharys. It was the wrong decision for Jahaerys to choose Viserys, and I'm going to tell you why!

This is all hypothetical but even so, I'm happy for people to say their piece in the comments. I love talking about HoTD -`♡´-

Let's just say she was heir ever since her father (Aemon) died. With her mother, Jocelyn, grieving I think Alysanne would step in and help with her granddaughter.

Alysanne wasn't called 'The Good Queen' for nothing. She brought a lot of change in Westeros; especially for the women. Therefore, I think her mentorship would guide Rhaenys perfectly. This would lead to Rhaenys making Alysanne the Hand of the Queen until age overcame her.

Rhaenys and Corlys would still marry aswell as having Laenor and Laena. Corlys wouldn't be at sea as much, and Vaemond would have more of a say in Driftmark.

The royals/council members etc wouldn't like the idea of a woman on the throne. But Rhaenys would show them how ruling is actually done.

With every decision she has grace. She isn't hot-headed and would only use Meleys when absolutely necessary.

Dragonstone would be both Laenor and Laena's until it was time to marry.

Alicent and Viserys wouldn't be married - Aemma would still be alive as she wouldn't have been pushed to have so many pregnancies. Or maybe she did die in childbirth, but Viserys told the maesters to do whatever they could to help Aemma.

Viserys would remain unmarried for the rest of his life

Alicent and Rhaenyra are still strong friends ;)

Viserys might not even live in the Red Keep? I'm not sure on that one. Possibly he would and Rhaenyra would grow up around Aemma? And Aemma would automatically adopt Alicent as one of her own children.

OR

Rhaenys does push for Viserys to get married again, and if somehow it's Alicent - then she isn't a young girl but a woman now. And as she has been shown love through Aemma, she respects that woman, even in death. So, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond & Dareon exist (however this would bring challenges to the thrown even more. So the marriage to whom Viserys would take as a second wife would be one of great thought.)

Otto would have a terrible time trying to gain power for himself and his family. However, Rhaenys knows Oldtown is very rich and influential, so maybe Alicent and Laenor marry?

Daemon still has skills that are useful to Rhaenys and the Targaryen Dynasty. But Rhaenys would have always known that Daemon wanted Rhaenyra... maybe she didn't involve herself, or MAYBE she wed Rhaenyra & Harwin...

𝐒𝐨, 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝?

Firstly, who thinks the Iron Throne should be there's?

Viserys is the next 'best' claim to the Throne. However, Rhaenys has more children and therefore more heirs. I think Viserys would rather not be the King as well.

Daemon; who made himself think that the seat would be best for him. But over time, with Rhaenys' guidance - his hunger would be used in a different way. She would show Daemon that the Crown and the Throne doesn't make you a god. You have responsibilities beyong comprehension.

However, Laenor would be heir to the Throne, which he would be absolutely petrified about.

[whereisdoriangray]

visenya targaryen (ii.)

warning: mention of weapons, death, profanities. not proofread. the author is not responsible for the content you choose to consume.

note: the character of visenya targaryen is purely fictional. all rights to house of the dragon belong to hbo/fire and blood to grrm. my fanfiction is based primarily on tv series, but also takes some information from the books. in this version, cregan stark was aged up. if you find any valyrian phrases incorrect, let me know!!

IV. DRIFTMARK

when a raven came announcing the death of harwin strong, visenya was with rhaenyra

"īles vala hen rigle," [he was a man of honour.] she admitted as a consolation to her grieving sister, "se iā sȳz kepa." [and a good father.]

that day, visenya ruminated in her chamber, late at night, at last calling upon one of her trusted servants;

"send this letter to you know who. tell him his princess will be especially generous if he does his job well."

that's how she found herself on driftmark with a small piece of parchment slipped into her hands just before the funeral of her friend laena

visenya excused herself briefly from conversation with a distant relative, finding a vacant spot where she wouldn't be disturbed

"bona orvorta..." [that cunt] she whispered as her eyes traced the two words the message contained;

"larys strong"

during the funeral, visenya stood by her sister's right side, quietly observing the people present

when she heard daemon's laughter, it took everything in her not to throw his way a disgusted look

once the procession was over and everyone gathered on the castle's terrace, visenya noticed her little cousins, baela and rhaena, sitting with their grief, away from everyone

"i am deeply sorry about your mother," she approached them, "she had a kind heart...and held much love for you." the two princesses thanked her with their eyes full of sadness

"when i was around your age, she gave me this," she opened up her palm, revealing a delicate set of penchant and comb, both symbolizing a dragon and a seahorse. "i believe it's time i pass them on to another who can honor them."

from afar, rhaenys noticed the princess gently putting a comb into rhaena's velaryon hair and then turning to baela with a penchant, clasping it around her granddaughter's neck

aside from the gaze of the queen who never was, visenya was stalked by another pair of watchful eyes

when she turned around, taking her leave, visenya met aemond's intense stare as he approached her

no one knows what the two of them spoke about on that day, but one thing they did remember - later that day, aemond claimed a dragon and lost an eye for it

"i shall have one of her son's eyes in return," alicent proclaimed, rising her chin

"over my dead fucking body," visenya spat as she unleashed a sword she had hidden underneath her skirts, tilting it downward and leaning onto it

alicent's reaction was one of horror, but before she could say anything, her husband, the king, intervened

later that night, servants whispered that when the queen demanded criston cole bring her the eye of lucerys velaryon, he looked upon visenya's sword and disobeyed the command.

V. OF HOUSE TARGARYEN

to say that visenya was displeased at her uncle's intention to marry her sister was an understatement

and yet, because of her love for rhaenyra, she gritted her teeth and gave them her blessing

to this day, some people believe that visenya allowed for such a union to happen because she realized that daemon, as the heir's husband, would be a powerful ally if anyone were to challenge her sister's claim, all the while satiating his thirst for power

and they might be right

and so visenya stood on the moors of dragonstone with her nephews and cousins, holding them close, as her sister and uncle exchanged vows

not long after the union, urgent news reached dragonstone

"luke's claim to driftmark is being challenged," visenya told her older nephew. "what are we to do now?" asked jace, anxiety creeping up his spine.

"jī naejot dāro vilinion." [we are going to king's landing.]

the city's foul smell hit her as soon as she landed. vermithor roared, obviously as much displeased as she. "lykīri," visenya commanded, petting him

as she entered the red keep, visenya couldn't help but notice the seven pointed star installed above the entrance

"what the fuck is that."

before she could ruminate on it any further, visenya heard silent cries somewhere in the distance

it was one of the maids from the red keep, she found out

"what is the meaning of this? why are you crying?" her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of a teary-eyed young girl

"i am... sorry, princess..." she managed to say through the sobs

visenya's quick eyes noticed clumsily hidden bitemarks, scratches and bruises all over her body

"who hurt you?" she whispered, taking the girl's hand in hers

"'tis...nothing...i swear, princess," the maid stuttereed, making visenya sigh in frustration

"what is your name, sweet girl?" she asked, this time more gently than before

"dyana, my princess."

"BY THE OLD GODS OF VALYRIA, i swear i will cut off aegon's cock," she barged into her sister's quarters. whilst rhaenyra looked at her sister with surprise, daemon only laughed at her rage. "and his balls too. that..." she struggled to find the word, "...that dimwit shouldn't procreate."

to cool off, she decided to accompany her nephews to the training yard

"everyone's staring at us," luke murmured with a pained look on his face

"as they should. jace is your mother's future heir, you are the future lord of the tides and i ride the second largest dragon in the world. it would be strange if they didn't," visenya smiled at him, but it didn't seem to soothe him as much as she would like

"no one would question me being heir to driftmark if..." he paused, looked around and then continued in a hushed voice, "if i looked more like ser laenor velaryon than ser harwin strong." her smile quickly dropped. "it doesn't matter what they think. their opinions are of no value," she replied sternly.

suddenly, a thud reverberated throughout the training yard and the two boys, excited, decided to find its source

it was aemond and cole, duelling

visenya wasn't half as enraptured as her nephews at the sight, but decided to let them savor the moment

when aemond won, people clapped and cheered, making visenya sneer at their sycophancy

"well done, my prince," praised cole, "you'll be winning tourneys at no time." visenya wanted to punch his face. hard. she had always disliked dornishmen, but there was something about criston cole that made him especially disagreeable in visenya's eyes

"i don't give a shit about tourneys," aemond spat with a stoic face, not putting his sword down, "nephews..." his gaze shifted to where she and the boys stood, "have you come to train?"

before any one of them could reply, the gates opened and through them passed vaemond velaryon with his men

"gods," she thought to herself, "this place is littered with dickheads."

once the gates had closed and vaemond was nowhere in sight, visenya spoke up

"it is i who came to train..." all the heads turned to her in disbelief as she unsheathed her sword, digging it into ground gently as she leaned on it, "aemond."

visenya couldn't have known that that single movement forced aemond to reminisce about the night he lost his eye - the night she defended luke and jace, threatening to kill anyone who dared touch them, even though they were in the wrong

it was the night when aemond got renounced by everyone, but in a way, her betrayal stung the most in his heart

since early youth, he heard stories of visenya, the paragon of targaryen bloodline - living in their ancestral home, mounting the second largest dragon at the age of barely nine, being fluent in both language and history of her ancestors - in aemond's eyes, she had it all

visenya was the bane of aemond's existence; not a day had passed without him thinking about how he could measure up to his half-sister

the only thing aemond despised more than visenya was his admiration of, and struggle to be more like, her

of course, visenya had no knowledge of any of this - perhaps if she knew, she would detest him a little less

"hm," aemond eyed her from head to toe without an ounce of emotion, and then took his leave, not looking back at the three of them

when the driftmark succession was to be settled the next day, mushroom recounted visenya standing behind rhaenyra as if her shadow, brows furrowed and gaze sharp the moment otto hightower sat upon the iron throne

what he also couldn't help but mention was that whilst the red keep whispered about daemon's execution of vaemond, no one saw rhaenyra's silent command to visenya to not draw her sword

that evening, the whole targaryen family gathered for a supper

visenya's seat was opposite her sister's, flanked by jace and, much to her dismay, aegon

the servants dared not speak about it, but when queen alicent, in her piety, included vaemond in her prayers, daemon and visenya exchanged looks, snickering under their breaths

after the toasts had been proposed and music started to play, visenya watched with a hint of smile on her face her nephew and half-sister dancing joyfully

her smile faltered, however, when she saw aemond's outstreched hand, "may i, princess?" he muttered in a low baritone

visenya looked at her sister, seeking her silent counsel; only after rhaenyra's eyes glinted with a subtle approval did she take aemond's hand

back then, no one knew that the next time the two of them would dance, it would be in the skies

when the king left and music ended, aemond reached towards his cup, proposing a toast

the quarrel that followed was quickly dispelled by daemon; once visenya made sure her nephews were unharmed, she left them to their devices as they sulked

instead, the princess approached her half-sister, haelena

that night, as mysaria's spy told her of the royal supper, she didn't fail to mention visenya holding her half-sister's hands lovingly, telling haelena that there would always be a place for her at dragonstone

visenya was ready to take her leave when one of the maids came to fetch her at the king's command

"my daughter..." viserys breathed out, as if every syllable caused him immense pain

"i am here, father," she said with her eyes blank

"aegon...the conqueror...." he closed his one good eye for a second, "he withstood...because of visenya."

"why are you telling me this?" she asked, confused

"your sister is the heir. once the time comes..." he hissed and took a long moment to continue, unnerving his daughter even more, "she will need… protection,” he pointed his finger at something in the distance

visenya would've dismissed it if it weren't for the slight red glow that captured her attention

in between ragged breaths and incomplete sentences, viserys gave his second daughter the sword that maegor stole from his father's funeral pyre; the sword that rhaena targaryen gave to her son jaehaerys who passed it on to viserys

now, blackfyre —the sword of kings past— belonged to visenya targaryen, whom people would soon come to know as aegon with teats.

[alicentflorent]

One thing we don’t often mention is Rhaena’s attempts to claim Seasmoke—not once, but three times, and nearly getting herself killed the last time. What’s baffling is that both Rhaena and Daemon knew Laenor was still alive, yet they still let her go after Seasmoke.....why thought? why not have her try for Silverwing instead, a dragon that’s much calmer and not nearly as aggressive? Even Jace suggested it, but Rhaenyra shot the idea down. It’s not as if Rhaena was afraid of claiming a dragon—she went to great lengths, wandering in the mountains for days, hungry and thirsty, looking for one. So why not guide her toward the safer option? *da*myra parents of the year*

yeah it's crazy to me that they let Rhaena try to claim a dragon that already has a rider and was probably also distressed about being separated from said rider when she could have easily been killed. I think they mentioned Rhaena had tried claiming other dragon's too so they likely did suggest trying with other dragons but still. They also had Rhaenyra lie to her children about their father dead after they wet already grieving one father and yet the show doesn't frame this as wrong but it's framed as morally grey decision but as Rhaenyra and Daemon helping Laenor escape his miserable life. I would have rather them had Daemon kill him and Rhaenyra just goes ahead and marries him with plausible deniability because instead Laenor became a deadbeat who abandoned his grieving children (a racist stereotype btw) and Rhaenyra lies to her children's faces about Laenor, like Harwin, dying a traumatic death. She probably held them as they cried, pretended to grieve at his funeral and she continues to keep up the lie, She never even considers telling rhaenys, not even when she experiences the murder of her own son. Yet the show just.. never explores it even when we have Jace talking about him fondly and Rhaenys and Corlys still have their suspicions over Daemon. The blacks family drama could be so interesting but instead they make them boring out of fear of showing them as flawed.

[darklinaforever]

And now Harwin and Rhaewin stans are trying to make it seem like GRRM has confirmed that Rhaenyra is in love with Harwin.

In what universe did this supposedly happen ? 😂

Under pretext that GRRM would have said it there' enough material between Harwin and Rhaenyra to write and entire story, and that this statement seemingly speaks for itself that Rhaenyra was in love with Harwin ? (even if in fact I don't see the connection ?) But no, GRRM not said there's enough material between Harwin and Rhaenyra to write an entire story. The truth is that GRRM talk about the story of Rhaenyra, Laenor and Harwin, the situation that all 3 of them were in. Not just Harwin and Rhaenyra.

I remind you that GRRM wrote a Rhaenyra who stops having children with Harwin at exactly the same time as Daemon returning to Westeros, and that she was most likely pregnant by Aegon III before Harwin's death.

Oh yes, she was definitely so in love of Harwin... 🙄

When you write a true romance, you're not going to make your couple suddenly stop having children (after the first 3 they had) when the first guy the girl wanted to marry comes back and gets pregnant by that same guy before that the father of your other 3 children dies, and that you finally marry the guy you originally wanted and are pregnant with, before the basic grieving period is over.

And no, for go back to HOTD, just because Rhaenyra is sad that Harwin died in 1x07 doesn't mean she was necessarily in love with him.

She had the guy for years by her side who brought her a little happiness in a shitty life, who was faithful to her, feel her desire, and became the father of her children, obviously she's going to be sad that he's dead !

And no, even when she tells Daemon that they both lost the people they loved, that doesn't necessarily mean that she was in love with Harwin either.

Do people realize that the word love does not necessarily mean being in love ? We can say we love a friend, a family member, our children, our ex with whom we are no longer in love but still one of the parents of our children and therefore part of the family, etc.

Because well, once again, even if it's not exactly the same as the book, Rhaenyra was quick to jump at the chance to have Daemon as soon as she got him, simply because he was truly the man she wanted and loved. For someone supposedly madly in love with Harwin, she won't have waited very long.

And yes, even if Harwin had been alive, I guarantee that Rhaenyra would have done the same, simply because she already did it in the book.

The truth is that Harwin was literally compensation for not getting the one she really wanted.

I also remind you that Rhaenyra, as an heiress, had to have children and that her husband... well was gay ? Rhaenyra needed a man she could trust and who would give her children. It's not particularly for Harwin himself that she risked the problems (because yes, apparently people think that too), but to have the children she had to have as an heir, and a minimum of happiness in her shitty life as a bonus, show or book. Literally, it wasn't for Harwin himself as a person that she risked the problems. It's not me who's delulu at this point.

Rhaewin fans are truly fascinating. So little material in HOTD, if it's nothing at all in Fire and Blood, but it still allows them to believe in a great love between these two... it will always make me laugh.

Also, I like how this person herself approached the book version by talking about GRRM but then told me, once her arguments had been dismantled, that she was only talking about the show, not the book and that it was two different things. Although technically there is no evidence in the show that Rhaenyra was in love with Harwin. That she loved him, yes. But in love ? Sorry, not for me.

And I don't care what anyone has to say. The simple fact that Rhaenyra took the first opportunity, HOTD or Fire and Blood, to be with Daemon when she was supposed to be grieving Harwin, or Harwin was simply alive, tells me enough about her true romantic feelings.

[the-desilittle-bird]

Hello, I was just wondering if you would ever do a female Lucerys Velaryon fanfic?

AN- I don't know about a fanfic but here are a few headcanons for it...

Being Rhaenyra's Daughter and taking Aemond's eye...

Part 2

Warnings- Forced Marriage

GIF Credits to @veinereastath

Being Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong's first daughter and Jacaerys little sister. Being their first daughter meant that you were loved and cared by them; spoilt rotten by your mother and learning sword from your biological father.

Growing up with the Greens meant that you had a love-hate mostly hate relation with Aemond Targaryen.

You would tease him about not having a dragon, also being a part of 'The Pink Dread' prank. Though you had felt bad later, you were proud enough not to apologize.

You were to inherit Driftmark after Laenor. Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys had decided that your gender won't matter in the inheritance.

You were quite close to Helaena, having shared classes by the Septa with her. But that was until your family shifted to the Dragonstone.

The news of Harwin's death saddened you tremendously, and you and your family had to travel to Driftmark for Laena's funeral.

You had tried to console your father, who grieved the death of your aunt, his sister.

In Driftmark, you met Daemon, the Rogue Prince, and his daughters, Baela and Rhaena.

You striked a strong bond with both of thems in the short time. Cheering them up a bit and helping them come out of grief.

That night, you were with them when you heard Vhagar and went out to investigate with them and Jace.

There you saw Aemond.

A fight broke out and in self defense, you sliced the dagger through Aemond's left eye, damaging it for lifetime.

Alicent wanted your eye as a payment and in the order to do so herself, she injured Rhaenyra, which in return hurt Viserys who yelled at everyone to stop.

As a way of repayment, you were betrothed to Aemond. Viserys said that it would join the two fractions of House Targaryen.

"Prince Aemond is betrothed to marry Princess (Y/N) from this day forward and shall be married when they come of age. This shall unite our House for good. The House of the Dragon should always be united."

And so, you left Driftmark betrothed to the man you hated with your entire life.

Only to know that your father died.

And soon enough your mother married Daemon.

Fast forward to the time when you with your family arrive at King's Landing to discuss your position as the heir of Corlys Velaryon, who would inherit Driftmark when the right time arrives.

And you met your betrothed again.

Only to be slightly awestruck by his beautiful long hair and sharp features.

But you could see he was less than amused, taunting you instead.

"Betrothed! Came here with your dagger, have you?"

The entire trial, you could feel his gaze fleeting over you. He looked at you like he could read you as an open book, running his fingers over the words to learn a secret you could only guess upon.

Your grandsire proclaimed you the heir to Driftmark.

Vaemond called Rhaenyra a whore and you and your siblings a bastard; adding a line about you following your mother's footsteps. That ended with him getting his skull off in a very asymmetrical way, so that his tongue was kept intact.

"He can keep his tongue."

The predatory look in Aemond's eye had you shivering; hiding behind your mother while she squeezed your hand in reassurance.

That evening, you were forced to sit beside him, which made it tense for you; while his eye pierced her soul.

And a toast was made for Jace and Joffrey, which was very offensive.

And then, for you.

"To my betrothed who is a beautiful, young... strong woman."

You stood up and slapped him.

Jace and Rhaena handled Aegon in the meantime.

Aemond did push you back a bit.

And before you could claw his only eye out, Daemon interrupted.

"Go to your bed chambers," Rhaenyra ordered

The betrothed was called off after that night.

And you returned to Dragonstone happy.

Your mother had started coordinating with the North about a betrothal between you and Cregan Stark.

"Cregan Stark shall treat you just and honorably."

But the news of passing of your grandsire came.

And Rhaenys came with the news of Aegon usurping your mother's crown.

You were sent to the Storm's End on your insistence.

And guess who you found there...

Aemond Fucking 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

Lord Borris Baratheon acted like a twat and denied helping your mother's cause.

Aemond stepped forward just in time for your leave.

"Give me your eye or I will take it!"

"NO!"

"Then I will take something far more precious."

Lord Baratheon was kind enough to order you to leave.

But that stormy night, you arrived at Dragonstone

And only a week later, your mother was told that you were forcefully married to Aemond.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Storms (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Part 1 of this story, “Safety”, can be read HERE.᯽

᯽ Part 2 of this story, “Captivated”, can be read HERE.᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, violence, references to a sick parent, death of minor characters.

Word Count: 7,800 ish.

Summary: A royal wedding should be a joyous occasion for the realm- but there’s something ominous in the air. Dark clouds linger over the royal family, and the rest of Westeros. Even you may not be able to make it through what lies ahead unscathed... Fortunately, you’ve found someone who you know you can count on to always be by your side.

A/N: Y’all... I’m still shooketh over here.🥲🖤 I really appreciate all the support so very much. I’ll keep writing for this as long as I have ideas and as long as there’s a want for it. If anyone is interested, I highly recommend listening to The Green Dress score while reading the second half- it’s what I did while writing it. The score is just *chef’s kiss* and sets the tone for the whole feast so well. I hope you all enjoy, and please feel free to let me know what you think!

PS, before you come after me because of the little time jump, I politely ask that you keep reading... I didn’t skip over *the scene*, I promise!😂

The winds of change had come to blow through Westeros.

Princess Rhaenyra’s tour of the Seven Kingdoms in search of a future King Consort had abruptly come to an end. Though the death of one of the suitors during Lord Boremond’s host at Storm’s End would have put a tainted mark on the remainder of her tours to come, the Princess had declared the tour over herself shortly thereafter… Despite the two months of traveling that remained.

Prince Daemon had finally returned from his war in the Stepstones, and presented King Viserys with the crown he had been bestowed upon him following his victory. The two Targaryen brothers reunited in a touching scene witnessed by most of the Court. He was welcomed at Court once more… until one day, he wasn’t.

Following an incident that you did not know the entire truth of, though you wouldn’t have spoken of it if you did know, the King had exiled him again. You could tell Princess Rhaenyra grieved the absence of her uncle once more, but then Ser Criston Cole had been suddenly much more attentive to her…

King Viserys had dismissed Lord Otto Hightower from his duties as Hand of the King, an event that had not only generated a large amount of whispers among the Reach, but among the other kingdoms as well. The King had appointed Lord Lyonel Strong in his stead.

Following Princess Rhaenyra’s denouncement of the tour, King Viserys had arranged the marriage for her with Ser Laenor Velaryon. Like a few others at Court, you had heard rumors of her cousin’s… preferences, and were worried, though it was not your place to offer up your opinion on. Eventually, she noticed your reservations, and had subtly, but full-heartedly, assured you that she and Ser Laenor had reached an arrangement. Besides, King Viserys’ mind was made up, and Princess Rhaenyra did not try to change it. Despite your initial hesitation, you shared the opinion of King Viserys- the match was a good one. Uniting the two branches of the Targaryen House and healing old wounds could only bode well for the dynasty.

From then on, you threw yourself into your work even more, supporting Princess Rhaenyra in any way you could with the royal wedding preparations. It kept you very busy, but you were grateful for something else to focus on.

After many weeks of planning and preparation, the week of the royal wedding celebration had finally arrived.

You and Princess Rhaenyra stood on a balcony amongst the far end of the palace gardens, looking over Blackwater Bay in the distance. Though Ser Criston Cole may have accompanied you previously, he had not chosen to this time. He’d been standoffish lately, and regarded Princess Rhaenyra with much more formality than you were used to seeing him display. Something had happened between them, you deduced… but, much like the circumstances that led to the sudden exile of Prince Daemon, you knew better than to ask unless the Princess spoke of it first.

Both of you watched in comfortable silence as ships, almost all of them bearing the Velaryon coat of arms, sailed toward King’s Landing. The vessels spanned as far back and across the water as your eyes could see. The fleet appeared to be moving slowly- but you knew that to be a fallacy. In what would be no time at all, the Princess’ betrothed, his family, most of their household, and various bannermen and members of the guard would make land.

An odd whistling noise ran out from the sky. You tilted your head upwards, as did Princess Rhaenyra, and three large, majestic beasts broke through the clouds up above. The three dragons and their riders flew downwards, their wings skimming the water between ships before flying up ahead.

Princess Rhaenyra pointed to one, then another, and finally, the third. “There’s Seasmoke… Meleys… and of course, Vhagar.”

More whistling could be heard as the dragons flew over the castle, rustling the trees and shrubbery around you with the wind. They descended from the sky before finally disappearing from view- presumably landing in the periphery of the Dragon Pit.

Dragons were fascinating creatures, but they were still terrifying. Unlike many others throughout the Seven Kingdoms, you were glad not to have been born a Targaryen… No one had ever heard of someone being burned or eaten alive by roses.

You would have been content to stay there and watch the incoming ships sail into the bay with the Princess until the sun set, but you knew you both had duties to attend to elsewhere. You looked over at her with an apologetic look.

“We should return to your chambers soon, Your Grace. The earlier you are dressed and ready, the better.”

It went without saying that Princess Rhaenyra being late to the welcome feast would simply be unacceptable.

“We will, shortly,” she promised distractedly, her focus having returned to the bay.

You felt sympathy for her. You had a feeling that, would it have been possible, Princess Rhaenyra would have had heirs for her line whilst forgoing marriage altogether. Alas, not even the Targaryens were that magical, and a King Consort would be needed for some things.

“Princess Rhaenyra… Lady Y/N.”

The pair of you turned around to face the third party who had joined you.

“Ser Harwin!” Princess Rhaenyra gleamed, before looking at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “To what do we owe the pleasure, My Lord?”

Ser Harwin smiled patiently. “A messenger informed me that you had requested my presence, Your Grace.”

“Did I?” Princess Rhaenyra feigned, looking at you with mock confusion. “Well, I simply cannot recall why I may have done that… My sincerest apologies, Ser Harwin.”

“No apologies needed, Your Grace,” Ser Harwin assured her cordially.

His eyes drifted calmly over to you. In a flash, you caught a wink he sent in your direction, causing your eyes to fall to the dirt path beneath you.

“Well,” Princess Rhaenyra said then, taking a few steps away from the balcony and back into gardens. “You are absolutely correct, Lady Y/N- I should return to my chambers and get ready for the feast at once.”

“Would you like me to go with you, Your Princess?” you asked her, though you already knew her answer.

Princess Rhaenyra came to a stop beside Ser Harwin and vaguely waved you off over her shoulder. “No, no, no. Take your time. The girls will assist me until you arrive.”

Ser Harwin looked amused.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” you called to her, smirking.

“Princess,” Ser Harwin nodded her respectfully as she proceeded to walk away and head back towards the Red Keep.

Such had been a little “game” of hers as of late. The Princess seemed to take far too much amusement out of summoning the knight nicknamed Breakbones, finding a convenient reason to excuse herself, and leaving the two of you alone. Though her game had the potential to create quite the scandal for the pair of you, should you be spotted together in a compromising scene without any escort, you knew without a doubt that Princess Rhaenyra meant no harm. In fact, you were rather grateful for her meddling ways.

Once the Princess was out of earshot, Ser Harwin took a step forward, closing the distance between you. He nodded to you in greeting, but when he spoke this time, his tone was far more tender than it had been just a few moments before.

“My Love.”

You tilted your head upwards to look at him better. The mere sight of him caused you to smile so widely that it felt as though your face might go numb from the joy you were trying to contain. “Dearest.”

Of all the changes that had been occurring in Westeros, none had bore more of an impact on or immersed as much as your newfound courtship with Ser Harwin Strong.

“You look breathtaking today, as usual.”

Your cheeks burned. “Thank you, My Lord.”

You still weren’t used to Ser Harwin’s praises, but part of you hoped you never would be. The fluttering you felt in your stomach upon hearing the sweet words reminded you just how much you cared for the man in front of you.

You attempted to joke, “If you think of me as beautiful now, you should see me in the gown I am to wear to the feast.”

Ser Harwin happily took the bait. “I assure you, I have been counting down the hours until my eyes are blessed with the sight.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling any wider. You took a moment to glance around you, ensuring that the two of you were alone. Once you were confident that you would not be heard, or overseen, you took another step closer towards the man that held your heart, extending your hands outwards to him as you did so.

Ser Harwin took his hands in your own hands with practiced ease. His hands were calloused from years of training and fighting, but you wouldn’t have changed that. The feel of your intertwined hands was grounding… and you needed to be grounded whenever you spoke with him lately, as his words tended to leave you bogged in an enamored daze.

His eyes, which looked upon you with nothing but the utmost care, tended to cloud your mind terribly, too.

“You look particularly happy today,” you noted, an unspoken question lingering in your tone.

“Seeing My Lady does tend to uplift my spirits,” Ser Harwin admitted playfully, his thumbs running lightly over the back of your hands.

You gave him an equally playful stern look. “My Lord,” you chided, laughing once. “You are a charmer, I will grant you that… But you know that is not what I meant.”

Ser Harwin gently raised one of your hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon it. The action would normally have caused you to nearly swoon, but you pushed onwards, desperate for an answer to your question.

“Harwin,” you plead, lowering your voice as you addressed him informally, in the hope that it might cause him to focus. It worked- something shifted within his eyes, and suddenly, he looked more alert, more attentive.

“Please tell me,” you asked of him, “Has there been any news?”

The news which you sought was that of your impending betrothal.

Much had happened in both of your personal lives since Derron Tyrell’s visit to King’s Landing some time ago. Ser Harwin Strong’s letter that he’d written to your father had compelled your brother to travel to discuss the matter with him, and his father, Lord Lyonel, in person. Upon his arrival, your brother’s first inquiry in the matter was as to whether a betrothal to Ser Harwin was something you truly desired.

The Strongs were a noble family, and Harrenhal was the largest castle in all of Westeros, despite the ghastly tales. It was also worth mentioning that Harwin was now son to the newly appointed Hand of the King. But you were the only daughter of Lord Larris Tyrell, Defender of the Marshes, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Warden of the South… and all those other titles. You were from the Great House of the Reach, and Ser Harwin, while the oldest son and heir, was of a smaller noble house from the Riverlands. Not to mention that the Hand of the King was not a position that guaranteed any permanency.

Your father and brother had long since decided that they would choose a suitor for you, but they had also made no promises about denying you a suitor who they deemed as unworthy. They both wanted reassurance that this marriage would bring you true happiness, and not one arranged merely because Ser Harwin Strong had been the first to make an offer. After all, there were more advantageous matches for you that could be made… and there had been a mention of a certain Lannister or two.

You attempted to tell your brother about how your attachment to Ser Harwin, and his to you, had developed. You hoped it might explain why Ser Harwin had been compelled to write such a letter.

“Am I to understand this is a love match, then?” your brother had asked then, hopefully.

It most certainly was.

You could still recall the scene in your mind…

…

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had sent word through a personal messenger, one whom the Princess used frequently for her own devices when subtlety and discretion was of the utmost importance.

Ser Harwin must have gotten your message, as he was already waiting for you out in the castle gardens, in the exact secluded spot where you had requested to meet with him.

“Lady Y/N… I heard the Red Keep welcomed a visitor from the Reach today,” he jested, visibly nervous once more, just as he had been when you had spoken with him last. “Perhaps they are an acquaintance of yours?”

You wordlessly withdrew the letter, which you had clutched tightly in your fist, and presented it to him. “This letter… This letter that you wrote to my father. What does this mean?”

“Have you read it?” he asked, eyeing the parchment with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“Please,” you begged. “I have spent the better part of my memory believing that you were taken with and about to be betrothed to another. My heart simply cannot take any more jests or delays at its expense… Speak plainly, My Lord. What does this letter mean?”

Upon the seriousness of your tone, which was a far cry from your usual playful banter and jovial attitudes the two of you had exchanged, Ser Harwin fell quiet, and his nerves immediately dissipated. You heard his jaw close, and for a moment, as he looked down at you with gravity in his eyes and upon his face, you feared he might not speak at all.

When he did, he spoke in a very calm voice.

“I can make my intentions very plain to you, My Lady,” he vowed. “If you will grant me permission to do so.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you were slightly off put by his choice of phrasing. “Of course, but-”

Ser Harwin silenced you by leaning down and capturing your lips with his own.

You froze, unsure of how to react to the foreign gesture. Before your brain or heart could fight for control of your next move, Ser Harwin withdrew from you, leaving you stunned, and, to your mild embarrassment, gawking up at him.

“You have captivated me, and stolen my heart right out from my chest. I know I have wronged you by not admitting this truth to you first, as I had intended. As punishment, know that my heart is yours to do with as you see fit… Though I would dare to beg you for mercy, Y/N. If you feel the same for me as I do for you, I ask that you grant me an honor which I most likely do not deserve, but will strive everyday for the rest of my life to be worthy of… I ask that you pledge yourself to me, and become my wife.”

…

How could the truth have been right in front of your eyes for so long, and yet you had mistaken it for something else entirely?! It was a folly you would not soon let yourself live down, that much was for certain.

“And, should you not feel the same,” Ser Harwin continued, noting your silence, “and I have now wronged you in more ways than one, you need only say so. I shall leave you at once, and without a word. We shall never speak of this aga-”

With a newfound sense of courage you did not know you possessed, you stood up on your toes, and kissed the man you loved right back.

It was Ser Harwin’s turn to be silenced.

There was no telling how long the pair of you stayed out that night, tucked away from the rest of the Red Keep and all of King’s Landing, just enjoying being in the presence of each other. But there was one more moment you recall definitively.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Also, my answer is yes.”

“I… hoped as much, My Lady.”

 …

You almost let out a wistful sigh. The memory of that night was still clearly visible in your mind’s eye, just as clear as Harwin was now, standing before you.

Had you both been commoners, you would have already been wed. Ser Harwin had admitted as much, and you agreed. But as both of your families were of the nobility, the two of you were forced to wait as your fathers negotiated the finer details of the exchange instead.

After your brother had learned the truth of your feelings, and after having a private conversation with Ser Harwin shortly after, Derron met with Lord Lyonel to begin the discussions. But, as your father was to be made privy to every detail, the negotiations had not been complete by the time your brother was due to return to Highgarden.

Lord Lyonel Strong had presented your brother with the details of his most recent offer, and shortly after, you returned to Highgarden with your brother to see your father. You were glad to visit him, and to learn that his health had improved from what you had last heard and feared. Your father was happy to see you too- not only as a faithful and dutiful servant to Princess Rhaenyra, but also as a woman who was soon to be wed to her love, an honorable knight who was more than capable of providing for and protecting her.

Your father reviewed the offer made by Lord Lyonel, and wrote his own counteroffer. You presented it to Lord Lyonel upon your return to King’s Landing, and the waiting began. Since then, for a long few weeks, ravens flew from King’s Landing to Highgarden and back, many, many times, as the negotiations continued.

The issue of your dowry proved to be a significant hurdle. At first, Your father couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the Strongs’ motives with the proposed alliance. Throughout all the Seven Kingdoms, the Tyrells were second in wealth only to the Lannisters. You knew that acquiring wealth was the last thing on Ser Harwin’s mind when confessed his feelings to you, and he’d said as much several times since. But eventually, a dowry amount was settled upon that was found to be acceptable for both families. There was an additional stipulation- all of the funds were to go towards repairs to Harrenhal and its surrounding grounds. The hope was that doing so would make the castle safer for you and your husband… and eventually, your children.

Since then, the negotiation points had been of little concern to either of you: where the wedding would take place, who would pay for what parts of the celebration, where you would spend parts of the year, and what surname your children would have. It was all trifling. Both you and Ser Harwin just wanted the negotiations to conclude, and the sooner, the better.

“Unfortunately, I have no news for you today, My Lady,” he informed you, his thumbs still tracing lightly over the backs of your hands. His gaze lifted from your intertwined hands, and he looked deeply into your eyes. “But my father assures me that they are close to reaching a final agreement.”

You didn’t have the heart to point out to him that he had already been telling you that for quite some time. “Let us hope.”

Ser Harwin looked about your surroundings briefly, confirming that you were still alone. In consolation to your disappointment, he leant downwards, and placed a soft kiss upon your forehead.

Despite your frustrations, and his own, it could always be said that Harwin never hesitated to do whatever he could to reassure you that the match between you was one worth waiting for.

“You look beautiful, Your Grace.”

Princess Rhaenyra turned her head over her shoulder and smiled at you as you entered her chambers. Two ladies- who happened to be none other than Ser Harwin’s younger sisters- attended to her. One smoothed out the skirts of her dress while the other was putting some adornments in her silver hair.

After their father had been appointed Hand of the King, the two girls had only recently been chosen by the Princess to serve as her junior ladies in waiting. They were a few years younger than you and the Princess, but old enough to have some scrutiny and tact about them, and they were eager to please. Both were already dressed and prepared for the welcome feast.

You looked over the Princess’ appearance with mock scrutiny, but ultimately smiled. “The two of you did such an excellent job… I fear I shall no longer be of service soon.”

Princess Rhaenyra rolled her eyes playfully. “Come now, Lady Y/N- how ever would I get on without you?” One of the girls presented her with a hand mirror. The Princess looked over her appearance for a moment before giving a small nod. “This will do. Thank you very much, My Ladies.”

The girls smiled, giddy with her praise.

“You two should head on over to the throne room,” Princess Rhaenyra dismissed them. “I’ll have Lady Y/N attend to whatever is left.”

The girls nodded in understanding, curtsied, and promptly left the Princess’ chambers.

Princess Rhaenyra picked up the small mirror again, and apprised her appearance once more. You caught a glimpse of her face in the reflection from your place a few feet away, and it was with a twinge of sadness that you realized how downtrodden she looked.

“Are you well, Your Grace?” you asked her quietly, subtly offering her an opportunity to speak about whatever was on her mind.

Unfortunately, the Princess did not wish to speak of whatever was troubling her. She put the mirror down and turned to face you. “Yes, all is well,” she answered, though her tone still left you questioning the sincerity of her words. She smiled at you teasingly, and inquired, “Is everything alright with you, Lady Y/N?”

You pursed your lips, fighting off a smile.

“Has there been any news?” the Princess asked, eargerly and expectantly.

Though you still were in her service, Princess Rhaenyra had become a true friend and confidant of yours. She was knowledgeable of the negotiations stalling your marriage to Ser Harwin, and was sympathetic for you.

“Not yet,” you answered, unable to disguise the disappointment in your voice.

“I am sorry to hear that… But the night is still young,” Princess Rhaenyra noted optimistically. “I bet that by the end of the week, another betrothal announcement shall be made.”

You certainly hoped so, but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“You should get ready for the feast,” she said then, giving you something else to focus on. “The seamstress put the finishing touches I asked for upon your dress, and left it over there.”

You walked over to the bed, where Princess Rhaenyra had gestured to. Your eyes immediately spotted the gown in question. The Princess had requested that all her ladies wore similar gowns, all of the same color, for the welcome feast. Your gown was a little bit more… revealing, than what the Strong ladies had been given, but it was more suitable for each of your ages that way.

“The color matches the jewels in your hair,” you observed with a smile.

Princess Rhaenyra returned the smile, pleased that you found the gown as gorgeous as she did.

The welcome feast had begun.

The esteemed guests from all across Westeros who had traveled to King’s Landing for the festivities were announced one by one, before paying their respects to the King and Princess.

The Queen had yet to arrive.

You were the only representative of House Tyrell to attend, and conveyed your apologies to King Viserys on your family’s behalf. Your father had taken ill once more- another factor that had played a role in the pace at which the marriage negotiations were taking place- and your brother Derron had no choice but to stay in Highgarden to help him manage affairs.

Since you were alone, you had no one immediately obvious with which to sit for the meal. Your betrothal to Ser Harwin was not yet official, so you had been assigned a seat beside the Hightowers and other noble families of other houses from the Reach. You knew most of them well enough to be able to carry out polite conversation, to accept well wishes for your father, and to inquire as to the state of their own houses and health.

But you couldn’t help it as your eyes drifted forlornly down towards the opposite end of the table, where Ser Harwin was seated with the majority of his family. You caught his eye every now and then, and when you did, the two of you played an unspoken game to see which would be the first to break and look away.

House Velaryon was the last to enter the throne room, and the attention of everyone else in the room was commanded by the sight. As House Velaryon strode over to the high table, which was positioned just in front of the Iron Throne, thunderous applause rang out. Though Lord Coryls had been no stranger to the Court during King Viserys’ reign, his wife, the Princess Rhaenys, and their children were not so often seen. Everyone was eager to lay eyes upon the future King Consort, Ser Laenor, and his sister, Lady Laena.

The princess rose from her seat to greet her betrothed, and shortly thereafter, the Velaryons and the rest of their household were seated. Everyone else in the room followed suit, save the King, who looked over the crowd. You looked over towards King Viserys and waited for his speech to begin.

But suddenly, the King’s cheerful face fell, and muffled whisperings around you filled your ears. You followed the King’s appalled look over to the entryway, where none other than Prince Daemon was making his way into the throne room. Ser Harrold did not bother to announce him- he was probably as shocked as most everyone else in the room.

The whispers did not cease as Daemon approached the high table calmly, acting as though he had not been exiled by the King, again, not too long ago.

You looked over at Rhaenyra and tried to gauge her reaction to the uninvited guest. If she had known about her uncle’s impending return for the wedding, she had not told you of it- though you honestly could not say whether she would have. The pair of you had a special bond, but the bond between her and Prince Daemon would always be stronger.

Thankfully, the Princess looked just as surprised to see her uncle as everyone else, though she was much better at concealing her facial reaction than the King. Once Daemon was before the high table, you thought King Viserys might call for his head right then and there. But instead, after a moment of thought, he beckoned for a chair to be brought out for him. Prince Daemon was seated beside the Hand, Lord Lyonel, and the room began to settle from the interruption.

King Viserys smiled once more, though it was more strained than genuine, and began his welcoming speech. Unfortunately, he was not able to get very far into it, before it was disrupted once more.

All eyes in the room once again turned towards the entryway. Unlike with the previous tardy guest, no whispers erupted this time. Instead, the room was overcome with a bone-chilling silence.

Queen Alicent had finally arrived. But what was more shocking than her blatant disrespect of King Viserys was the outfit she had chosen instead.

She wore a bright, emerald green gown.

Those seated rose respectfully as she made her way over to the high table. Despite those who you were seated with- other members of House Hightower being seated just a few seats down from you- your eyes involuntarily narrowed as the Queen passed you. Just what point was she trying to get across with her choice of garment?

You’d never seen the sight with your own eyes before, only having read about it in books and having heard it in tales from your father. But you knew, very well, what color the beacon in Oldtown glowed when the Hightowers called their banners to war.

Green.

Once the Queen was seated, the King was finally able to finish his speech, and dinner was served. You still snuck glances at Ser Harwin as often as you dared, though the looks you gave him now were probably laced with little else but concern.

Once the meal was over, you were grateful for the dancing to begin, for it gave you a perfect excuse to stand and socialize with other guests whom you were not immediately seated by. Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor were the first to take the floor, as was the tradition, but once the dance was complete, the other guests slowly but surely joined in the fun.

You rose from your seat and walked over towards the end of the table, joining the group of nobles who had gathered there to observe those already on the dancefloor.

“Lady Y/N.”

You turned, and were pleasantly surprised to find Lord Lyonel Strong standing beside you.

“My Lord,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Are you enjoying the feast so far, My Lady?” he inquired then.

The question was innocent enough, but difficult to answer truthfully. Your eyes darted over to Queen Alicent, and then Prince Daemon, who were both still seated. Well aware of the fact that you could be overheard, you simply answered, “This feast will be remembered for quite some time to come, I am sure.”

“I do not disagree,” Lord Lyonel said knowingly, having noted whom you had glanced at. Lord Lyonel, on the surface, gave the air of an uncomplicated man. But you were beginning to suspect that there was more to him than one might assume. A lord from a small noble house in the Riverlands didn’t become appointed Hand of the King by mere chance.

“Lady Y/N,” he said then, in a much quieter tone that grabbed your attention immediately, as was its purpose. “I do want to thank you for your patience as this business with Highgarden is negotiated.”

Lord Lyonel’s statement was decently vague, but you knew immediately what he was referring to. “Thank you, My Lord. I understand that such matters are necessary, though I would deny that it has not begun to feel tedious at times.”

Lord Lyonel gave you a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps you are right. Even so, I will be glad once everything has been settled. I must admit, I was, and still am, pleased by the proposition. I think all parties involved stand to benefit greatly… specifically, my son. I am grateful that House Tyrell has considered him to be a worthy business partner.”

He approved of the match; that the subtext of his cordial words. But even more so, Lord Lyonel was pleased that the match contributed greatly to the happiness of his son.

“There is more to Ser Harwin than his nickname,” you said decisively. “I believe Lord Tyrell and my brother simply needed some guidance in order to see that.”

Lord Lyonel nodded courteously.

As if he had known he was the topic of your very conversation, Ser Harwin made his way through the onlookers. He came to a stop before the two of you, and nodded to Lord Lyonel in greeting. “Father.”

Then he turned to you. He looked remarkable, dressed in finer clothes than what he typically donned, and a significant section of his hair had been pulled up and tied back, revealing the handsome features of his face. You were so lost in the sight of him, you almost didn’t register that he had spoken to you.

“Lady Y/N,” he greeted, giving you a charming smile. Said smile was offered to many, but it never was accompanied with the twinkle in his eyes that shone now. That had become exclusively reserved for you, a thought that both made you feel humble and filled you with pride. “I think it to be an insult that you have not been asked to dance thus far. Could you find it in your heart to grant me the honor?”

You looked towards his outstretched hand, and attempted to minimize the love-sick expression you undoubtedly wore. “It would be my pleasure, Ser Harwin.”

With one last glance at Lord Lyonel, you took Ser Harwin’s hand and allowed him to escort you to the dance floor.

You seldom had the opportunity to spend such time with Ser Harwin in public, and you reveled in every minute of it. The incredible ease you felt with him, whether it was while dancing, talking, or simply being in the presence of each other, was one that had yet to be matched.

As the pair of you went on about the dance, turning and spinning and stepping about as the song dictated, you conversed quietly.

“You truly are a vision tonight,” Ser Harwin complemented, causing your cheeks to burn both with mild embarrassment and in pain from your amused smile. “Better than I even dared to dream of.”

“Thank you, My Lord. … But now, I wonder- do you dream of me often, Ser Harwin?” you jested, taking his hand and twirling once.

Once you had turned around, you nearly came face to face with his broad chest; the two of you were suddenly much closer than before.

“Since you asked,” Ser Harwin said, leaning down so as to speak directly into your ear, “There are few nights that you do not haunt my dreams, My Lady.”

Before anyone could notice the inappropriate distance between yourselves, you each took a step back, and continued the dance smoothly.

You were taken aback, but pleasantly so. “Haunt?” you echoed. “Am I a ghost, plaguing you with nightmares?”

“I assure you,” he said, suavely stepping beside and turning to you in time with the music, “Not all ghosts are bad. Nor could any sight of you gracing my mind whilst I am asleep ever be considered a nightmare.”

Before you could think of something charming or witty to respond with, you noticed someone making their way onto the dance floor. It was with dread that they were headed directly towards you.

“I fear our time together is about to be cut short,” Ser Harwin announced, also making note of it.

You forced a smile as you greeted the interrupter of your lovely moment. “Lord Loreon.”

Loreon Lannister merely nodded cooly to Ser Harwin in his own way of greeting. The gesture made you want to give him a verbal lashing for his impoliteness, but since you were surrounded by others, and it was not yet socially acceptable for you and Ser Harwin to show any sort of attachment to the other, you were limited.

Ser Harwin knew just as much, too. He politely refused to acknowledge the disrespect, and greeted the other man anyways. “My Lord.”

“Might I cut in?”

Ser Harwin had no choice but to allow Lord Loreon to do so, and he knew that. The little weasel.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of the feast, Lady Y/N,” Ser Harwin said to you.

“And I you, My Lord.”

You watched with mild sadness as your love wandered off the dance floor before disappearing amongst the crowd of nobles watching on the outskirts.

A new song began, and you forced your feet to move, engaging in a dance once more.

Lord Loeron, though a few years your junior, had grown into a man since you had last seen him. However, he was still a young one at that, and you had your suspicions that the passing years made him no more wise. The boy- young man- had always lacked some tact. You’d hoped his father, Lord Jason Lannister, had instilled some sense in him, as Loreon was his only son and heir. But from what Princess Rhaenyra had shared with you regarding Lord Lannister’s own behavior and choice comments as of late, you severely doubted it.

“You’ve grown since I last saw you, My Lord.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Loreon granted. “Though I am afraid that I am nowhere near the size of Breakbones.”

You frowned in displeasure at his insinuating comment.

Your courtship with Ser Harwin while your fathers worked out the details of your marriage was not exactly a secret. But, other than Lord Jason on the occasion, Lannisters had been sparse at Court as of late… You concluded that the walls must have had ears. You only hoped that they did not have eyes as well.

“I am surprised by your choice of gown, Lady Y/N- I thought you might wear green, as it is a color of your House.”

And also the color with which Queen Alicent had chosen to draw a metaphorical line in the struggle for power.

You answered, “Princess Rhaenyra deemed it fit that all her ladies should wear gowns of Targaryen red tonight.”

“A wise decision by the Princess,” Lord Loreon declared. “I’m sure you look just as lovely in gold, as it is the other of your House’s colors... Though, perhaps a gown of red and gold would suit you best?”

You paused briefly, before forcing yourself to continue the steps. You feigned, “I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean, My Lord.”

“No, I suppose you do not. Perhaps my father shall arrange to meet with yours, and they can sort it out for the two of us. We would not dare spend any longer than necessary on negotiations. We know how much a marriage to the daughter of Lord Tyrell is worth, just as I am sure you know how valuable the marriage to the son of Lord Lannister is.”

You let out a small sigh, your patience for pleasantries completely diminished by his goading words. “If that is your way of proposing marriage, My Lord, it seems there is still vast room for improvement to be had in ways of your eloquence and common sense.”

Lord Loreon narrowed his eyes at you, but did not cease his dancing. In a threateningly low tone, he demanded, “You dare insult me?”

As suspected, time had not made him more wise. Lord Loreon’s pride was wounded just as easily as it always had been.

“It is I that has been insulted, My Lord. Asking for my hand so crudely, and during the wedding feast for the future Queen, no less?” you countered swiftly. “I think my father would be most displeased with House Lannister if he heard of this, not to mention the King.”

Lord Loreon finally stopped partaking in the dance. He looked very cross. He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by several loud, piercing screams.

Immediately, the dance floor descended into a state of chaos. Initially, you were shoved backwards, as some sort of altercation took place in the middle of the dance floor. You could not see the individuals throwing fists, but you heard the sickening thuds of their punches landing mercilessly upon the other, despite the commotion of the crowd.

You looked back over towards Lord Loreon, only to discover that he had taken the moment of distraction to abandon you. However, you had expected no less of him.

Suddenly, the tune of the crowd changed. Encouraging shouts as the brawlers went after one another turned into horrified screaming. Guards flooded the room and attempted to make their way towards the middle of the crowd.

As the crowd shifted with the movement, you were unceremoniously shoved backwards and down onto the ground. The legs of others nearby as they shuffled backwards and out of the way were encroaching upon you rapidly.

Despite your position, you heard Princess Rhaenyra cry out, “Laenor!”

A horrible thought struck you. The Princess had been on the dance floor as well- you had seen her not but a few moments before. Was she still entangled somewhere in all of this mess? You had to help her.

You tucked your chin, and used the chair you had fallen up against as leverage to hoist yourself up and off the ground. Your eyes searched the crowd, and you felt dismayed when the Princess was not immediately in sight. “Princess?!”

Before you could decide on your next move of action, someone promptly picked you up, and threw you over their shoulder.

In the midst of everything going on, you were unable to get a good look at your sudden captor. You shouted protests and fought back, kicking and punching the man who had decided to take advantage of the situation as he proceeded to push his way through the crowd and away from the dance floor.

“Y/N,” a very familiar voice huffed, before gently placing you back on your own two feet.

It was Ser Harwin.

He hadn’t been your captor, no- but rather, your savior.

You watched in a stunned silence as Ser Harwin quickly looked you over with concern, putting his hands on your shoulders to get your attention. “Are you alright?” he demanded, gently but urgently. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” you replied quickly. “I’m fine.”

He’d placed you near the high table, where his father, and the rest of the royal family, even Queen Alicent, looked onwards towards the fight that the guards were still attempting to break up.

“Where’s Rhaenyra?” you heard the King ask, his increasing worry audibly evident.

“The Princess!” you said, suddenly recalling what you had set out to do before Ser Harwin had whisked you away- find Princess Rhaenyra, and make sure she was alright. You looked up at him pleadingly, before gesturing over from whence you both had just come. The Princess was still nowhere to be seen. “I heard her, right over there!”

Ser Harwin looked from where you had gestured and up towards his father. Lord Lyonel, also looking concerned, nodded over to the chaos as a silent go-ahead.

Ser Harwin fought his way back into and through the crowd, and you watched with bated breath as he did so. As much as you were concerned for the Princess’ safety as the seconds passed, so were you worried for him, as he quite literally punched and pushed his way through the half rioting and half panicking crowd.

Some ways away, he bent down and disappeared beneath your line of sight. Just as quickly, he stood once more, with Princess Rhaenyra over the top of his shoulder, as he had done to you. He couldn’t make his way back through the crowd quick enough.

Ser Harwin deposited Princess Rhaenyra down on the ground beside you, and you fussed over her immediately.

“Your Grace!” you exclaimed worriedly. “Are you hurt?”

Thankfully, Princess Rhaenyra looked more upset than physically injured. “I’m fine, I’m fine… What in Seven Hells is going on?!”

“Rhaenyra!” Her father beckoned her over to him, and she did not hesitate to heed him. With one last glance at you, she thanked Ser Harwin before joining the King.

The shouting silenced abruptly, drawing your attention back to the fight.

The crowd parted down the middle, revealing a gruesome scene. Ser Criston Cole was laying fatal blows upon another man, who laid practically motionless beneath him. You could not recognize the man from here, but you recognized the colors he wore as someone who was likely to have attended the feast with House Velaryon. The crowd stepped back further still, forced to do so by the guards who had finally managed to intervene. Then, the room went still.

Ser Criston, bloodied, and with a look upon his face that had been numbed with pure rage, halted his blows.

The man beneath him was dead.

Like wildfire, the crowd dispersed, fleeing the throne room. Nothing good would come of this- at the very least, the feast would not be able to continue. A member of the Kingsguard had just punched a man to death!

“Go, you two,” you heard the light but commanding voice of Lord Lyonel from behind you. To Harwin, he added, “See to it that Larys and your sisters make haste as well.”

You looked over at Rhaenyra, who was watching the results of the madness unfold with a sombered look on her face. But you had no time to decide whether or not to try and console her, for Ser Harwin had already begun to guide you out of the throne room. As instructed, he corralled his brother and sisters and made certain that they headed towards the exit too.

“Don’t,” he told you quietly as you passed the dead man’s body, evidently having read your mind. “I wouldn’t look.”

You were thankful that Ser Harwin had strategically placed himself between you and the body as you walked by, for it had been your gut reaction to do just that. You gripped his arm as he escorted you that much tighter, thankful to have been spared from seeing such a ghastly sight.

As you passed under the threshold, the anguished sobs of Ser Laenor echoed off the walls behind you.

That evening, in a private ceremony witnessed by only the families of those involved, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen and Ser Laenor of House Velaryon were wed. The remaining festivities that had been planned for the rest of the week were canceled. King Viserys decided that, given the events of the welcome feast, the sooner the two were wed, the better.

Despite the sense of gloominess that hung over the Red Keeps in the days to follow, personal good news had presented itself to you the very next morning. A raven had arrived, from Highgarden, no less. Negotiations were complete.

Your betrothal to Ser Harwin Strong was, finally, to be official.

At the end of the week, Princess Rhaenyra and her new husband Prince Consort left King’s Landing for a small post-wedding sailing trip.

Your betrothal was officially announced the following day. You were ecstatic- for now, you no longer had to hide or deny your attachment to the strongest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, you could celebrate it. And you would, too- with any luck, the two of you would be wed in less than a few fortnights, a few moons at the most.

The day after the announcement brought another raven from Highgarden. But this time, the news was not the cause of any celebration.

Your father, Lord Tyrell, had succumbed to sickness. 

Perhaps the Maesters had been wrong in their diagnosis of the ailment and ineffective with their treatment… Perhaps your father knew what was inevitable, but had held on just long enough to see to it that you would be looked after once he was gone.

…

The winds of change had come to blow through Westeros. With the winds, came storms.

But with Harwin by your side, you knew that you would be able to weather them all.

᯽ Part 4 of this story, From This Day, Part 1/2, can be read HERE. ᯽

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!🖤 I have (at least) one more part tentatively planned for this, but after started writing this, I came up with another idea... So, how do we feel about seeing the wedding?👀 Cuz I was gonna do another little time jump to the next part, but now I’m not so sure... Let me know what you think!

ALSO... does anyone else wanna talk about last night’s episode?! Because I have so many thoughts... ugh. It was so great. I cannot.

***The masterlist for this story can be found HERE.***

***Information about the taglist for this fic can be found HERE.***

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[agentmilayawithshield]

Jacaerys is going to be the one pushing for vengeance against the Greens instead of his mother

So S2 Rhaenyra has been taking the peaceful approach to the upcoming war, going as far as to speak to Alicent in King's Landing in the last episode. Jace has diligently followed her instructions so far, even when he disagreed with them, but soon enough there might be more reasons for Jace to push against his mother's wishes and it all has to do with Daemon's eventual return.

Jace at this point has lost his brothers to the Greens, with one dead and three sent away, and if what we heard from Simon in the last episode plays a bigger part in this episode, he'll also soon learn they were also the ones that killed his father.

Jace is left being the last of Harwin's children who remember him, or who even know he was their father, and he was never allowed to publicly grieve his death. Rhaenyra got over it soon enough, but he stays the one character that still talks about him, even acknowledging him to Baela, and it's clear that he had a bond with him.

So if Daemon says, "Look, the castellan in Harrenhall believe the Greens started the fire that killed Lord Strong and his son", Jace is the only one who might properly pursue some kind of justice for their murders. And if he does, and Rhaenyra snubs his emotions once again?

Will he idly sit by and let things happen, or will he say "I'm done coddling a woman who has given me nothing but grief since I was born, only because she was once my mother's friend?"

He doesn't know the sweet Alicent that Rhaenyra knew, he knows the Alicent that went after his baby brother with a knife so she could take "an eye for an eye". What good do Alicent and her kids represent to him? "Fuck those guys, my family is falling apart for the second time, I don't care to upkeep theirs."

It might be his driving force and his ultimate doom, making his already tragic fate that much worse.

[bumblesimagines]

A not so brief summary on my thoughts on House of The Dragon S2:

This finale makes me want to go outside and reconnect with nature 'cause why the hell did they make us wait so long just for a bunch of filler episodes and what was basically a trailer for season 3?

Spoilers for the show AND book which includes the deaths of characters and the arcs they had in the book.

Right off the bat, I'm just going to say that this post, this post, and this post sum up some of my thoughts. It truly feels like Ryan Condal (as well as others in production) had someone else give him a rundown of what happened in the book and just went off on that alone. I admit, I like some changes made from the book specifically with Alicent being Rhaenyra's childhood friend but at some point it just diverged from an adaptation to a fanfiction.

I know people whine and complain that it's 'nOt GoNnA bE eXaCtLy LiKe ThE bOoK' but if that's the case, stop calling it an adaptation and start saying it's based off the book. Of course, people are going to be annoyed when changes are made when they step in with the expectation/hope it'll be like the first few seasons of GoT.

Season 1 was good but rushed and had far too many timeskips that skipped needed character development. We never got to see Rhaenyra shift away from 'I don't want children' to learning of her first pregnancy. We never got to see Alicent fully turn away from Rhaenyra and stew in her resentment over being stuck in a marriage she never wanted while watching Rhaenyra be free enough to have multiple sons with a man who wasn't her husband. Laena, Laenor, and Harwin had little impact because we saw so little of them. We never got to see if Rhaenyra loved Harwin or if she saw him as a fwb.

It was rushed but the characters felt alright.

And then in comes season 2 and we can see that they were too afraid of being called out to write proper female characters. I've said this before when answering an ask but HOTD only has two types of women: rebellious, headstrong, stubborn, warrior girls and sensitive, withdrawn, submissive, rule followers. This is Arya vs Sansa all over again. Women can be multiple things at once. Not every Team Black girl has to be a fighter, not every Team Green girl has to be quiet and faithful.

Why wasn't Rhaenyra angry about Luke's death? She left S1 looking enraged and started S2 off strong in her grief but then Luke was never mentioned by name ever again. I understand burying down the grief and anger to rule but we should've seen her continue to break down in private throughout the season. Her SON was MURDERED and you're telling me she's not going to continue grieving him when she didn't even do anything for half the season? All she did was run off leaving Jace and the Council scrambling to stay together or get consistently spoken over again and again and again. And now suddenly Ryan wants her to be this calculated meticulous cult leader? Rhaenyra's downfall is descending into paranoia and letting her emotions and worries get the best of her (WHICH NETTLES WAS A BIG PART OF). She loses and flees King's Landing because of it.

Why was Alicent's plot mostly revolving around Cole? Why did they choose to have her sleeping with him while B&C happened? In the book, Alicent is essentially taken hostage because B&C knew Helaena took her children to visit their grandmother and say goodnight. She watches her daughter be forced to choose between her two sons only for the son she chose to save be killed. Instead of feeling grief for her grandson's death, she feels guilty for... having slept with Cole. No real thoughts or feelings over her GRANDCHILD being MURDERED. Look, I love the Rhaenyra x Alicent ship but it was doomed from the start. Instead of trying to make it seem like there's a chance, complicate it more! The complexities is what makes the ship good! But no, let's have Alicent, mother of the king and a big part of what started the war, mope around and fuck this dude. Hello?? Are they also setting her up to poison Aegon at the end when she spent half of season 1 saying she needed to protect her children from Rhaenyra???

Why did Helaena mourn her son for an episode and then move on? Are ya'll seeing this pattern or am I crazy? Helaena is supposed to descend into madness over her grief and guilt. She can't look her remaining son in the face because she'd chosen him to die. She's so consumed by this that she ends up impaling herself in spikes after throwing herself from a window. Are they setting her up to be murdered? To do it just because? And what do you mean 'Helaena doesn't ride. She has no taste for it'? Helaena LOVED to ride. Her love for her dragon is the reason Dreamfyre breaks free from her chains in the Dragonpit when she senses Helaena has died. But of course, Helaena is a Team Green girl and only warrior girls ride dragons, right Ryan? And she's Team Green so obviously unlike in the books, the smallfolk despise her as much as the others? They took the devastating choice of B&C and gave it to Alicent in the last episode which makes the death of Helaena's son's absolutely meaningless and unneeded as well as her own death. And also? all of a sudden Helaena can now understand her prophecies and speak them clearly? So why didn't she tell anyone of B&C? Surely a mother would try to break away from fate to save her children?

Aemond, Aegon, Cole, and even Daemon were given more complexities and plotlines than the main women, Alicent and Rhaenyra, were lmao. While the faces of the war were cast aside to be one stereotype or the other, we got to see the men be messy and chaotic and full of emotions. Aegon got to be angry and defensive over his son's death but not Rhaenyra. Cole got to be conflicted over his doings but Alicent was just meh about it. Daemon had so much unnecessary hallucinations lmao. Was it even character development if after every hallucination he still beat his chest and called himself king? He learned nothing but suddenly he sees a horribly CGI put together vision of GoT and he's fine putting away what he's been saying all season long? Come on now.

Jace, Baela, and Rhaena were massively underused. In the posts I linked, it explains my issue with Rhaena taking over Nettles. It's stupid and unneeded. We get to sympathize with Hugh and watch Daemon bang his mom but there's no need for the ONLY WOC IN THE BOOK to be seen? Not even his clear bias for Team Black will allow him to bring in Nettles and let Rhaena be one of the few Team Black girls who isn't a fighter and a Strong Female Lead? Okay.

Jace and Baela were. there. I guess. We could've cut back a lot more of Daemon to show Jace in the North winning over Cregan or even having him return mid-season. He did nothing but serve face and have a few lines of being annoyed. And, it was his idea for the dragonseeds, both highborn and lowborn. And Baela was just there to be his voice of reason. The rational girlfriend who pulls her boyfriend out of his head. She had one good scene where she wasn't just Daemon's daughter or Jace's love interest (they never even did or say anything remotely romantic. They feel like friends over two people in love) and then she just. existed to be there for Jace.

The dragons were great and I loved their designs. I loved that their dancing is based on the birds of prey death drop(?) and I clocked it instantly when I watched Rook's Nest. However, I really hope Aegon belives Sunfyre is dead because of a weakened bond and not that he's actually dead considering Sunfyre burns and eats Rhaenyra alive?? That's his whole thing??

I did not care for Tyland and the pirate chick. We had a full fledged BATTLE be offscreen but we had to see Tyland get tossed around in mud? Okay. Sure. Uh huh.

Like... what was this? It was like hours long filler episode. 'It's setting up for season three!! that's why it sucked!!' but we still had needed action and characters that were brushed over? We could've had the battle between the Blackwoods and the other idiots, we could've had Nettles taming Sheepstealer, we could've had the women feel like real people instead of being one dimensional characters, we COULD'VE HAD RHAENYS HAVE EMOTIONAL SCENES WITH HER BELOVED GRANDDAUGHTER(S) BEFORE FLYING OFF TO BATTLE.

Anyways, honestly, 4 or 5 out of 10 for this season. I was bored for most of it and it was massively underwhelming. I expected this season to end with the Gullet and Jace's death being the straw that finally broke the camals back in Rhaenyra which would've had her take King's Landing in a fit of rage and grief. I also expected Daeron to at least have some sort of appearance? He gets mentioned twice and we see Tessarion briefly but no sign of the missing TargTower son and no Maelor? Okay. Sure. Let's just call this House of The Dragon: The Poorly Written Fix It Fic Brought To Life Instead Of Being Left On AO3. No wonder GRRM isn't going to be involved anymore.

This doesn't read like an adaptation brought to life by a passionate fan. It reads like an adaptation created purely to reach Game of Thrones level of fame and popularity. GoT earned it's popularity in the first few seasons. HOTD is merely piggybacking off it's success and failing at being anything other than a boring high budget show that happens to have dragons.

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 14 - Total Eclipse of the Heart

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: Daena is not doing well, she gets jelaous, like really jealous/ Minor mentions of blood, death, fainting spell, overall chaos, and angst

A/N - it's a long one guys, so buckle up and get some snacks lol

Corresponding episode: HOTD 1x05

HOTD masterlist

"In the waning months of the year 115, a Royal wedding was held - Crown Princess Rhaenyra was married to Ser Laenor Velaryon, heir to Driftmark and the future Lord of the Tides. He was said to have arrived at King's Landing on the back of his dragon, Seasmoke, the same way his mother, Princess Rhaenys, arrived at her own wedding on her dragon, Meleys. 

The wedding was not without scandal. To everyone's surprise, the grieving Princess Daena showed up. She recently lost her lady mother, Rhea Royce, and was not expected to attend. Many said that her somber behavior was an ill omen that contributed to the violent event at the end of the wedding - the murder of Ser Joffrey Lonmouth."  

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

115 AC, Runestone 

The cold wind howled through the night. Lady Rowena stood at the foot of the table as four Silent Sisters took care of her late daughter's body. Never in her wildest dreams, did she think she would bear witness to this - her only child, cold and dead in front of her.

"My lady, you may wish to leave the Silent Sisters to their work. It is ill luck to look upon the face of death." Maester Cirion said to her. 

"The Stranger has taken many people away from me: My parents, my lord husband, my brother, and now my daughter. I assure you Maester, he cares little whether I watch or not." Rowena replied quietly. 

"If not for yourself, then you should leave for your granddaughter. I'm worried her mind will spiral. The Princess had always been quite attached to her mother. I'm afraid Lady Rhea's passing has unstabilized her state of being." Measter Cirion suggested. 

"A raven must be sent to the Eyrie. Lady Jeyne must know of my daughter's passing. And to King's Landing, of course. I can trust you will deal with those messages?"

Maester Cirion bowed slightly. "Of course, my lady. At once."

~

"Ser Harwin."

He turned at the sound of his name. It was Lady Rowena. Her hair, usually neatly held by a hair net, was now loose. Her eyes were bloodshot and there was a crease in her brows. There was a large wooden box in her hands. 

"My lady?" 

"Ser Harwin, forgive me for seeking you out in the middle of the night but I'm afraid you're the only person I could think of for what I need," Rowena said as she handed him the box. 

It wasn't too heavy but something was definitely inside it. "Give this to Daena. Let her talk about it. Distract her mind. And if you can, encourage her to get some sleep before the...before the funeral." 

"What is it?" Harwin asked. 

"Her old dragon egg. The one that never hatched. Daemon never bothered to return it to the Dragonpit and it has stayed here ever since Daena was born." 

Harwin remembered Daena talking about this egg and how angry she was it never hatched. 

"I hear she refuses to sleep." Rowena comments. 

"My sisters tried everything but she is...restless," Harwin answered somberly.

Rowena cast her gaze down and shook her head. 

"She needs you, Harwin. Now more than ever. Be there for her, please." Lady Rowena pleaded. 

"Of course, my lady."

~

Gently opening the door, he found her sitting on the room floor, next to the fireplace. Her back turned to him, he couldn't see her face, only the back of her head. Her silver curls were now loose, reaching down to her waist.

She was crouched, her knees close to her chest as she stared into the fire. She didn't seem to notice him, or at least, she failed to react. He slowly approached her, setting the box next to her. 

"Princess..." He called for her as he crouched next to her. 

No reaction. 

Sighing, he took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "Daena." 

This seemed to break her stupor. She slowly turned her head toward him. Her lilac eyes were red and puffy, her face tear-stricken, her silver curls messy. It broke Harwin's heart into a million pieces seeing her like this. Gently, careful of her bruises, he took hold of her face. He wiped away the tears. 

"My love...please. Talk to me." He cooed. This was the first time he addressed her in such a manner, yet she didn't seem to notice it. 

"There's nothing to talk about! My mother-" She yelled but as soon as the words left her mouth, her mother's death became so much more obvious and real. 

For the 100th time that night, she broke into tears. This time, Harwin was there to hold her. She sobbed and sobbed, drenching his shirt with her tears. After what felt like hours, she stopped. With her head on his chest, she could feel the beat of his heart; it calmed her down. 

Her eyes fell upon the box Harwin brought with him. Removing herself from his arms, she pulled the box closer. With her fingers, she traced the intricate carvings in the wood.

"I know this box." She whispered, sniffling. 

She opened it and her eyes fell upon the dragon egg inside it. The last time she saw it, she was a little girl, dragonless and fearful. She picked it up - it was dark in color, almost black with a violet tint to it and the scales glimmered purple in the fire. 

It was as magnificent as the day it was first laid in her crib. It was as heavy as she remembered. Laying it in her lap, she sighed. It had her mind racing - so many things would've been different had this egg hatched. 

She would've bonded to this dragon from birth, yes, but then she would've never claimed Vermithor. She didn't like that thought. Vermithor was her everything, she couldn't imagine her life without him. Speaking of her dragon...

"Vermithor. I want to see him." She said as she caressed the egg in her lap. 

"...It's the middle of the night, my love."

"So?"

Harwin sighed. "You need to get some rest before the-"

"I don't want to. I want Vermithor!" She repeated. She hasn't seen her dragon in over a fortnight. Both dragon and rider were getting restless without each other. 

"On the morrow, then." Harwin offered. 

Daena thought about it. She was tired from all the crying. She caressed the egg some more before putting it back onto the velvet cushion inside of the box. 

"I could do with some sleep." She commented quietly. 

Harwin sighed again, this time from relief. 

~

The rising sun was covered by the clouds; grey and heavy they were. Just like Daena's heart. Outside the walls of the castle, the funeral burial of Lady Rhea Royce was being held. All of the castle staff was there; stable boys, cooks, cleaning maids, guards, everyone. 

The older members of the staff wept, for they knew their lady well and they too were shocked by her sudden passing. But no one felt more pained by Rhea's death than the two women standing at the very front - Lady Rowena, her mother, and Princess Daena, her child. 

Grandmother and granddaughter held each other tightly, as if letting go of one another meant losing each other forever. Both were clad in black, from head to toe. Lady Rowena wore a long, black hood that covered her hair but not her face. Even in her darkest hour, she stood tall, a somber expression on her face.

Daena was a completely different story. Not expecting to attend a funeral, she had no appropriate black gown, so she borrowed one from Amanda. It was made of cotton with puffy sleeves and a high collar. 

On her head, she wore a veil made of black Myrish lace that covered her tear-stricken face. Her hair was pulled in a bun and she wore no earrings, bracelets, or necklaces. Only the simple garnet ring her mother gifted her years ago. 

Even the heavily pregnant Amanda was there; she refused to lie and bed while her aunt was getting buried. She stood next to her husband, Ser Jasper, and clutched her belly. She too was in a black gown with a black veil on her head. 

Harwin and his sisters were slightly off to the side, seeing as they weren't residents of Runestone, only guests. Both of the twins had their hair up. Hanna had a black velvet headband on her head while Joy wore a short black veil. Harwin too was in black. 

As the funeral went on, Daena felt her patience disappearing by the second; on one hand, she wanted to give respect to her mother one last time. On the other hand, she hated bearing witness to this. She wanted to run away from the darkness and the pain.

Finally, it was over. It was customary that after the funeral, the bereaved would go inside, raising cups and eating in honor of the deceased. But Daena had other things in mind. Detaching herself from her grandmother, she started walking toward the hill.

~

Ignoring all calls, she continued without turning back. From the other side of the hill, Vermithor appeared, hissing and clicking. She walked up the hill, determined to get away from any man or woman. Once she reached the top, Daena fell to her knees. Vermithor lowered his head, wanting to be closer to his rider. 

Feeling his need for contact, she lifted her veil, showing her face to her dragon. Vermithor's great amber eyes looked over Daena and he could see and feel her pain. He's been feeling her pain ever since she was assaulted weeks ago at her name-day party. With trembling hands, she touched his snout and leaned her head onto his. 

A deep rumble left his mouth as he nudged her body with his snout; it was his way of comforting her. Usually, she would play into it and pretend to fall. But not today. Today she stayed seated, her eyes glued to the wet grass. She could feel his hot breath as he opened his mouth and growled. 

A great wave of emotion washed over her - anguish, pain, a sense of injustice, a desire to just disappear, and anger. Anger at her father not being there for her. Anger at herself for not being able to stop her mother's passing. Anger at the gods for taking her mother away from her. 

Perhaps being next to her dragon amplified her feelings or perhaps she was just fed up with everything. Either way, the fire in her blood ran hot and rage flowed through her veins. Hot tears ran down her face as she beat her fists against the cold earth. Gripping the grass tightly, she screamed. Feeling her immense sorrow, Vermithor roared, his voice echoing through the valley. 

Pulling the grass harshly from the ground, she keeled over, sobs wrecking her body. Feeling the distress of his rider, Vermithor swished his tail against the ground, making the earth below him shake. 

~

Upon hearing the news of his wife's passing, Daemon knew he had to return to the Vale. Not because he cared for Rhea, but because of Daena. He knew how attached she was to her mother. 

Looking down from atop Caraxes he could see the castle of Runestone getting bigger and bigger. But something else caught his eye - on a nearby hill, Vermithor stood, furious and wailing from what Daemon could see and hear. Caraxes let out small clicks and whistles of acknowledgment as he descended and landed at the base of the hill.

As he dismounted Caraxes he could see someone approaching him. At first, it just looked like a big ball of black running down the hill, but he quickly realized who it was. 

"Kepa! Kepa!" (Father!) 

The frantic voice of his daughter rang loudly in his ears. Before he could register what was happening, Daena was in his arms. He stumbled a bit from the force of her hug. She was a sobbing, coughing mess, clinging desperately to him.

 "It hurts! It-it hurts. Daddy, please! Make it s-stop!" Daena babbled. 

"What hurts?" He asked as he guided both of them down to sit on the grass. 

"M-my heart! It hurts so b-bad. Daddy please!" 

Daemon didn't know what to say. He was never the best when it came to comforting people, but for her, he would try. He pulled her into his lap and played with her hair, just like when she was a toddler. 

"Mother is - she's...she's g-gone." Daena sobbed.  "Please don't leave me. Please. I need you. Stay." 

"I'm not going anywhere," Daemon promised. And this time, he meant it. 

Two months later

The royal wedding of Princess Rhaenyra to Ser Laenor Velaryon was to be held at the Red Keep in King's Landing. Lords and ladies from throughout the realm were descending upon the capital to attend this once-in-a-lifetime event that would unite the two most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms. 

Seeing as Daena was a member of the royal family, she knew she had to go. Perhaps, she could've used the excuse of being in mourning as an explanation as to why she would not attend. But once her father told her he would go, she knew she also had to go.

And now here she was, back in King's Landing, after almost a year in the Vale. Her grandmother decided to stay at Runestone, seeing as Amanda gave birth just one day after Lady Rhea's funeral. Harwin, Joy, and Hanna would join Daena in King's Landing. 

She, alongside her father, decided to arrive at the wedding on dragon back. The two stayed behind at Runestone and only started their journey south one day before the wedding. Her gown and accessories for the wedding were with the twins who had traveled down from the Vale over two weeks ago. 

Arriving at King's Landing in the early morning hours, long before sunrise, Daena made her way to the Red Keep. Immediately upon arrival, Daena was greeted by the twins who ushered her to her old room where she was to rest before the start of the wedding feast.

~

The great Throne Room of the Red Keep was transformed into a banquet hall fit for a royal wedding. The banners of House Targaryen and House Velaryon hung on opposite sides of the Iron Throne. A long table was set before the throne where the royal family sat.

With trepidation, Daena made her way to the Throne Room. This would be her first public appearance since the death of her mother. She was still in mourning and wanted nothing more than to seclude herself and ignore the rest of the world, but what choice did she have?

"Princess Daena Targaryen!" The voice of Ser Harrold Westerling rang across the Hall as he announced her presence. 

The Princess strode into the Great Hall, tall and gaunt. The black silk of her dress only accentuated her pale complexion and the emptiness in her eyes. Her dark gown flowed behind her, making her look like an unworldly wraith.

Murmurs and whispers could be heard all across the room but Daena paid them no mind. With her head high, she made her way up the stairs to the royal table. She curtseyed to her uncle and Rhaenyra.

"Your Grace. Cousin." She greeted politely. A look of pity formed on the King's face.

"My dear, I must say, I was most distressed to hear of  Lady Rhea's tragic passing. I know how close you were with her. I'm very sorry for your loss." 

Daena gave an awkward smile. "Thank you, Uncle."  

"Iksan sīr vaoreznuni, hāedar. Iksis konīr mirros kostan gaomagon?" (I am so sorry, little sister. Is there anything I can do?) Rhaenyra asked. 

"....Are you happy, cousin?" Daena asked. 

Rhaenyra seemed confused by the question. "I am." 

Daena nodded. "Good. At least one of us is." 

And with that, she sat at the edge of the table, somber and quiet. Lord Lyonel, who was sitting to her left, offered his condolences. As did every lord and lady who approached the royal table. She was getting sick of it and wasn't sure if she could handle it for another couple of hours. 

To her immense pleasure, Alicent was nowhere in sight as she was "still readying herself for the celebration" as His Grace explained to Jason Lannister. 

~

"Lord Corlys of House Velaryon; Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark. His lady wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, and their son and heir, Ser Laenor Velaryon - the future king consort!" 

Dressed in rich fabrics embroidered with gold, House Velaryon made their entrance. Everyone in the Hall stood up and clapped. Once they reached the foot of the table, Rhaenyra walked around it and greeted Laenor and he kissed her hand. Daena noticed Uncle Viserys glancing at Alicent's empty seat. 

Once the Velaryons were seated, an unexpected visitor arrived - Prince Daemon. Strutting confidently down the Hall in his red and black clothes with a smirk on his face, he silently approached the table and gave his brother a mischievous smile. 

King Viserys wordlessly gestured for another chair to be added to the table. Daena watched as her father sat down next to her. He made himself comfortable in the chair and once he did, he turned his head toward her. No smile was present on her face, yet her eyes gave away how glad she was of his arrival.

He grabbed her right hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. They continued holding hands, which warmed her broken heart just a little bit. 

Uncle Viserys then gave a speech about uniting House Targaryen and Velaryon and how much of an important ally they were to the crown. Yet, he stopped, looking at something down the hall. Everyone, including Daena, followed his line of vision. 

At the top of the stairs, on the other side of the Hall, stood Queen Alicent. Dressed in a dark green gown, she stood out amongst the crowd. She walked with a look of determination on her face and a certain fierceness was in her eyes, never before seen on the young queen. House Hightower immediately stood up, and everyone else followed suit. Except for Daemon and Daena, who remained firmly seated. 

Daemon completely ignored her, looking down at his nails, while Daena stared Alicent down with a look of pure disgust and vitriol on her face, not caring for what others might say in the slightest. Alicent walked past them, walking up to Rhaenyra. 

"Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you." Alicent said connivingly to Rhaenyra and proceeded to kiss His Grace on the cheek. 

Daena caught sight of Rhaenyra's face - a look of surprise and worry was on her cousin's face. She also shared a look with her father; his pale eyebrows were raised and he was hiding his face behind his cup, almost like he was trying his hardest not to laugh. He obviously found Alicent's stunt ridiculous.  

~

Laenor and Rhaenyra proceeded to perform an Old Valyrian dance that imitated dragon flight. It was a sight to see as the two spread their arms like dragons do their wings and circled each other. Daena noticed how intensely her father was watching Rhaenyra and she couldn't help but wonder if Rhaenyra had something to do with Daemon's banishment. 

Rhaenyra in her stunning, pure white gown looked like the Maiden herself. Her silver hair was pulled up in an intricate hairdo with a bunch of rubies sewn into her hair. Daena could not say if she liked it or not. In the end, everyone clapped, Daemon more enthusiastically than others. 

Other people proceeded to stand up and join the soon-to-be-wed couple on the dance floor. Among them, Daena easily spotted Joy in her bright violet gown as she practically hopped her way to the dance floor. She somehow managed to drag Hanna along, which brought a small smile to Daena's face. 

Alicent then stood up and walked down toward the Hightowers and conversed with her uncle Hobert. Daena's eyes then fell upon her secret lover. Harwin was sitting next to his brother, Larys, and the two were having a conversation. 

She couldn't help but admire his rugged beauty; his dark blue suit sat perfectly on his broad shoulders, and his dark curls were pulled back into a bun, freeing his handsome face. Almost like he sensed she was watching him, he locked eyes with her. She instantly looked away, her heart skipping a beat. 

Her happiness was short-lived because the next time her eyes found Harwin he was on the dance floor, dancing with Rhaenyra! She did say to him before the feast she wouldn't be dancing as she was in no mood to do such things, but she didn't expect him to go and dance with her cousin of all people. 

She watched as Rhaenyra giggled at something he said and how happy he seemed around her. Why wouldn't he? She was the Realm's Delight. She was the crown Princess. She was the future Queen. Of course, he was enamored with her. 

Bitter jealousy nested itself into Daena's heart. Jealousy and envy. Jealousy, for she had no desire to share her lover with Rhaenyra. Envy, because Rhaenyra seemed to be the most desired woman in the Seven Kingdoms and had so many things Daena wanted.

Over the course of the night, Daena also noticed Ser Criston staring intensely at Rhaenyra. It seemed every man in Westeros desired Rhaenyra. Daena knew all of these feelings were irrational and knew Rhaenyra would never hurt her in such a way but, jealousy was a mad viper and its venom spread through Daena's heart. 

She was so deep into her head that she failed to notice Lady Laena sharing glances with her father from across the table. The food that was in front of her went cold for she had no appetite to begin with, now, even less. She also failed to see Joy dancing and smiling with Ser Elmo Tully. 

~

Her body was turned to the right, that way she wouldn't have to look at Alicent. The one time she did glance at Alicent, she appeared to be just as miserable as Daena was. At least that brought her some satisfaction. 

Her father proceeded to get up from the table and go into the dancing crowd. First, he conversed with Laena. After that, he went up to Rhaenyra who was still dancing with Harwin. Father said something to Harwin who stepped away. 

Harwin caught sight of Daena's face - it was twisted in anger. Her lilac eyes fell upon him and even from across the Hall, he could feel a rageful fire exuding from them. He wondered why that was. 

"Your dear Princess seems less than happy with you," Larys commented as Harwin sat down. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Look at her. She is fuming. I wouldn't be surprised if she started spitting actual fire upon you." 

"And why would she do such a thing?" Harwin inquired. 

"Something tells me she wasn't overly pleased seeing you dance with Princess Rhaenyra," Larys clarified. 

"...It was all in good faith." Harwin tried explaining. 

"I don't think that's how she sees it," Larys commented before taking a sip of his wine.

~

From her seat at the table, Daena had a clear view of her father grabbing Rhaenyra by the neck and pulling her closer. She furrowed her brows; What in the Seven Hells are they doing? 

Then, a scream echoed through the Throne Room. 

Something was happening at the dance floor, but thanks to the crowd Daena couldn't see a thing. She quickly stood up from her chair and tried peering through the mass of people. 

"Where's Rhaenyra?" Daena asked, those being the first words she uttered after hours of silence. All her negative feelings disappeared once she realized her cousin was in danger. 

"What in the Seven Hells is going on?" Uncle Viserys said as he got up. Quickly, a group of guards appeared.

"RHAENYRA!" Daena yelled trying to locate her. Daena tried looking for Nyra's silver hair but, she was never the tallest, so she was quickly engulfed by the mass. Joy and Hanna were also on the dance floor, so Daena worried for them as well. 

Uncle Viserys walked around the table, trying to locate Rhaenyra as well. It was absolute mayhem. Daena joined her uncle at the front. She locked eyes with Harwin from across the hall. 

"Get Rhaenyra!" She yelled. Harwin proceeded to fight his way through the crowd. 

Next to her, Uncle Viserys bent forward, not feeling well. 

"Uncle! Are you alright?" She asked, worry lacing her voice as she noticed his nose bleeding. He didn't respond.

As she turned her gaze once again to the crowd, in the corner of her eye something caught her attention. A short girl in a light pink gown held onto a chair for dear life; Lady Patricia Beesbury, Daena quickly realized. 

The girl, blind from birth, had no idea what was going on and a look of terror was on her face. Springing to action, Daena jumped from the small platform she was standing on and ran toward Patricia, her black gown billowing behind her. 

She could hear Lord Lyonel yelling her name in the background but she didn't care. She needed to help Patricia. 

"Patricia! It's me, Daena! Come with me, quickly!" Daena said to the girl and tightly grabbed her arm. 

There was no way they could get back to the platform so instead, Daena set her eyes on one of the pillars. With an iron-tight grip, she held onto Patricia and the two tried to escape the crowd. She heard what she thought was Harwin's voice calling for her, but she wasn't sure. 

The two girls were pushed and pulled by the crowd but somehow managed to escape. Daena pulled Patricia and swung her around, pushing her against one of the large pillars. There, they stayed hidden. 

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Daena asked, breathless. 

The poor girl looked horrified and had tears running down her cheeks. Daena looked her over and besides her hair being a mess, she seemed fine.

"I-I-I...Thank you. I'm f-fine."  Patricia spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. Daena let out a sigh of relief. 

Then everything went silent and the cries of Ser Laenor echoed through the Hall. Daena peeked out over the pillar and saw Laenor crawling over to a man's dead body. Daena would later learn this was Ser Joffrey Lonmouth. 

~

"We stand here tonight in thanks and praise to join two souls as one." The dull voice of the Septon continued reciting the wedding prayer. 

"Father. Mother. Warrior..."

Daena stood behind Alicent and Uncle Viserys. Her tight bun was now loose and barely in shape, thanks to her little rescue only minutes ago. Lord Lyonel was to her right. She couldn't have imagined a worse outcome for a wedding; a man dead and the rest of the celebrations canceled. 

"Hear now their vows." 

Rhaenyra approached Laenor, kissed him on the cheek, and said her vows. 

"I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come." 

Laenor did the same, but truth be told, neither of them sounded honest or happy about it. 

"....I proclaim Laenor of House Velaryon and Rhaenyra of House Targaryen to be man and wife...Now and forever." 

Daena's head was pulsating, almost like someone took a hammer and was hitting her repeatedly with it. She gripped the skirt of her gown tightly, taking in small breaths through her nose. Her left wrist, the one sprained months ago, was hurting as well.

All this newfound chaos only worsened her already fragile mental state. Now her cousin's wedding was ruined, her father was gone, again, and she didn't even know where to start with Harwin. It was all too much.

It seemed she was not the only one feeling that way. Uncle Visers keeled over, his crown falling from his head. Rhaenyra, Alicent, Lord Corlys, and Lord Lyonel all rushed to help him. Closing her eyes, she sighed. Her ears were ringing and her vision was becoming fogged. An uncomfortable heat spread through her body. 

I can't take it anymore.

Without even thinking, she started walking away, leaving all that mess behind her. The click of her heels echoed as she practically ran toward the door. She barely missed the puddle of blood still left on the floor. 

Harwin stood in front of the Throne Room, waiting for Daena to come out. Suddenly, the great doors were opened and she came rushing out. Not noticing him, she started walking briskly down the halls of the Red Keep. 

"Daena!" He called for her. She seemingly ignored him and started sprinting toward the grand staircase. 

He started running after her. 

Right when she reached the stairs, she fell to her knees, her hand grabbing onto the railing. 

He caught her just before she toppled over. "Daena! What's happened? Tell me!" 

"The king has fallen...Call the measter..." She whispered, her voice weak and broken. 

"What? What do you mean?" 

He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. He called her name, asking if she could hear him. Her gaze was blank and distant, unfocused. The grip she had on his arm lessened. She leaned her head onto his chest and then she went limp.

"...Daena? My love, please! Get up!" Harwin pleaded, his usually stoic voice now ripe with emotion. 

He picked her up and carried her to her chambers with haste. He hated the feeling of her limp body in his arms. He wanted to scream from the top of his lungs. Once again he failed to protect her and the shame pierced his heart.