#she is nothing like Rhaegar's son | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dumbkiri · 3 months ago

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𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚 3

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Please follow part 3 of Helaena!! AI love the character so much and I find almost nothing of her, the reader and Balerion have me ecstatic too!! You make art! Thank you for your attention :(

Yes! Please have Rhaenys and [Name] kill Aemond in the next part! On my hands and knees begging! Save The Queen Who Never Was!!

I apologize for the dragon fighting. I watched S2EP4 like 5 million times to describe dragon fighting, but my brain no work with that. As stated before, I am NOT familiar with GOT or HOTD (watched in once years ago), this is all made on the fly for a dear reader. So I apologize if it's "stupid" or terrible writing. But I will continue to write this for others that enjoy this series. Thank you for following along on this new journey.

There's also a sneak peek to a Targaryen x Stark story in the future....Sansa deserves love too.

The crackling of fire and the ocean waves crashing at the bottom of the cliff filled his ears along with the breeze combing through his hair. And the voice from the fire, which he normally heard on occasion, had been quiet for a long time. Tonight had to be different because of the strong need to light a fire in the night.

Before Rhaegar died, the Lord of Light spoke to [Name] many times. Made the father devoted to his children because one of them was going to have a son powerful enough to defend the North from the long night. [Name] thought Rhaegar would have been the one to have that son.

Obviously, he misinterpreted the Lord of Light. The son could come from Viserys’ line or maybe [Name] would have to have more children with Helaena to secure the prophecy from the god. Still, the voices stopped after Rhaegar. He thought he must have failed the god, disappointed the deity because he did not protect Rhaegar. Or get revenge for his fallen son.

“I heard that you speak to the fire, uncle.”

[Name] lifted his head from the burning fire and saw Jacaerys making his way over to the edge of the cliff where he sat by his lonesome.

A chuckle slipped past [Name]’s lips and he swept his legs over the edge of the cliff. “I speak to the Lord of Light, nephew,” His response was quick and to the point. Some people like his brothers described [Name] and Helaena to be odd; one spoke to the fire and the other spoke in cryptic messages. Aegon would tease and say that they were a special couple. The word special did not come from the heart, but Aegon’s way of saying simple.

“I’m not sure I heard of that god before, it’s not any of the Old gods or even the Seven,” Jace pointed out expertly while taking his seat, the same way his uncle did, the small fire between them.

“You’re right,” [Name] looked out towards the sea, the moonlight casting a blue hue onto the calm water, “I only experienced his existence in Essos when a Red Priest spoke to me with her alluring tongue.”

Jace snapped his head at [Name] and asked daringly, “Alluring? Did she get you in bed with her too?”

“What?” [Name] leaned back in offense then looked over at his family member, “I’m hopelessly obsessed with Helaena, Jace. I’m devoted to her and her body, no one else can satisfy me, not that I would want them too.” The man turned to the fire when a stick broke in half. Lead Jace into the fire, let him see. [Name] felt a strong pull at his chest and his eyes drew over to his nephew when he spoke up.

“So a red woman showed you her god and now you serve him?”

“That’s not how I started serving him,” [Name] admitted quietly, thinking back to the night of his commitment. The vision he saw in the fire, the voices he heard all convinced him to serve the red god. “She found me tending to Balerion’s teeth after a battle with some assassins. I don’t like the smell of burning bodies, especially ones that linger between his molars.”

As [Name] told his story, the fire subtly grew hotter between the males.

…

“Open wide, Balerion,” [Name] walked in front of his grumpy dragon with a bucket of sea water and a shirt from one of the dead men on the beach. Balerion huffed into [Name]’s face and turned away from the human with a disinterested groan.

Reeling back in disgust from the smell, [Name] covered his nose with his forearm and pointed at his dragon with his free hand. Voice muffled, but loud, [Name] shouted, “Where are your manners? I’m doing a nice thing for Dreamfyre and myself! No living thing wants to smell your tarnished breath!”

[Name] set the pale down and approached his dragon with a tired look on his face. He was warned about traveling to Essos for pleasure, but he wanted to get out of the castle. He wanted to stop hearing schemes and breathe for once. The air he caught flying was enough to fill his lungs and cleanse them.

Yet one last stop on the beach almost got him killed.

“Your dragon is very beautiful.” A woman’s voice startled the dragon and the rider, both snapping their heads to see the new person on the beach. She wore a red dress with her long dark hair cascading down the front of her chest. She held no weapon to his knowledge and her hands were placed in front of her.

Balerion’s throat clicked in unease and he lifted his head off the sand, some grains falling onto [Name]’s defensive stance.

“Give me one good reason why I should command my dragon not to burn you like I did the rest?” [Name] asked, his bloody hand gripping onto the handle of his sword. Skeptical of the woman, he didn’t let his guard down. If she was the one that sent the assassins, he would drag her by the hair and drown her in the sea.

The woman in red smirked and answered, “I am not your enemy, Prince [Name]. I came here to help you realize your potential in the upcoming war between your families. You are to be a formidable ally, one that can bring balance.”

[Name] scrutinized her and gently commanded Balerion to stand down. His beast chuffed and set his head down back onto the sand. Then [Name] looked at the bucket of water, dunking the shirt into it.

In his crouched position, [Name] began his interrogation, “Upcoming war between my families? There is no war, my lady. What are you insinuating?”

He noticed she was staring at his sad campfire and she asked quietly, “Your fire has dwindled, might I rekindle it?”

“I asked you a question,” [Name] stood up and wringed the shirt of excess water, “answer it.”

The red woman nodded her head and approached his campfire, she messed with the stick and dry grass, explaining, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, my prince, but your father has passed away. With his dying breath, he told your mother that he wanted Aegon to inherit the throne. She-”

“Aegon?” [Name] scoffed and his face scrunched up in confusion, “That’s not right at all. My father has always wanted my sister to have the throne, for many years he’s always been adamant that Rhaenyra succeed him. Even if he suddenly changed his mind, why would it be Aegon and not me, the oldest, to inherit it?”

The campfire burst into flames and [Name] looked at the woman who conjured up fire with only her hands. She looked into the fire and said, “Your mother believes otherwise, insisting that your father spoke Aegon’s name. The Hightowers have usurped the throne and war will follow in the days to come.”

[Name] rested his hand on the upper lip of Balerion and paused for a second. Aemond was going to be crowned King, taking the throne away from their father’s true successor Rhaenyra. His mother, Alicent, couldn’t be this dull to really believe he said that on his deathbed. Even when he and his brother were born, Viserys never named either of them heir.

“My prince, please join me by the fire, I have something to show you,” The red woman’s voice spoke smoothly and [Name] blinked his eyes to focus back onto the beach. As if he was entranced by the color of the fire and the warmth from Balerion, [Name] removed his hand from the dragon.

He walked over to the woman and Balerion groaned in protest, watching his rider carefully. The beast didn’t trust the red woman yet and it showed when he bared his teeth as the woman reached for his rider. She moved her hands back and smiled at the dragon letting the beast know she won’t lay a finger on his rider.

“Look into the fire and tell me what you see.”

[Name] kneeled down on one knee and did as he was told. He felt completely different from the fire. He saw images of a long winter, a sword of fire, a white dragon that breathed blue fire and a boy from his line in the future. Then he saw people made of ice with blue eyes, a marriage with a Stark girl, and the long night that engulfed the north.

“Do you see now, my prince,” The red woman whispered in his ear, “you must return home and protect your family at all costs. Protect them so that the Dragon in the North can be born. Without him, the Prince That Was Promised will fall.”

…..

“A Prince That Was Promised, huh,” Jace huffed in question and playfully joked, “If a woman like her whispered in my ears like that, I would follow her god too.”

[Name] laughed and patted his sword next to the campfire and finished off with, “Then she blessed my sword with his power too. But I believe he wants you to see something as well. Look into the fire, nephew.”

Jace awkwardly laughed and shifted on the balls of his palms, “I think I’m alright, uncle.”

“Are you afraid?” [Name] furrowed an eyebrow and smirked, “Don’t tell me the heir to the throne is afraid of a vision in the fire. I suspected my nephew to be braver than that.”

“Fine,” Jace grumbled and looked into the fire, seeing small embers fly into the dark sky. The seventeen year old only wanted to amuse his half-uncle by doing what he wanted him to do. He had no real incentive to do it, but he was curious to see if the red god was real or if his uncle really was crazy.

The fire reflected in Jace’s eyes and [Name] saw the twists and snaps in the reflection. Jace’s lips parted open to speak what he saw in the fire, shocked to see the vision come to life in the flames.

“I see the North, there is an alliance to be made and an oath to keep.”

[Name] hummed in thought while Jace blinked his eyes trying to peer more into the flames.

“And I see-”

A huge gust of wind blew the fire out as Balerion roared past the men, Dreamfyre tailing her mate close by with a replying call. Jace ducked down immediately while [Name] laughed at the cowering position of his nephew. He fixed his clothing and his hair from the flyby, still laughing at the glare he received from Jace.

“Apologies,” [Name] cleared his throat and picked himself up from the floor, reaching a hand out to the teenager. “Balerion likes to announce his arrival, I’m sure he didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Jace asked, taking the offered hand and stood up with the help of it.

“From miles away,” [Name] answered, a grin on his face.

Jace wiped his clothes off and sighed, “A warning won’t hurt next time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” [Name] chuckled and followed after his fuming nephew with lighthearted apologies.

Jace was soft of grateful to have his half-uncle at Dragonstone for many reasons. He looked up to [Name] when they were younger and admired Balerion from afar, too scared to ever approach the dragon. But [Name] tried to help Jace get over his fear of the Dread.

[Name] never questioned his or Luke’s legitimacy either, claiming that his twin and younger brother were green monsters. That Aemond envied their claim to the throne.

[Name] was a role model, perfect son of Viserys the Peaceful. The calm and deadly rider of Balerion. Nothing was truly bad about him.

“He’s a cunt.”

“You shouldn’t speak that way about him, our greatest ally,” Rhaenyra scolded Daemon, the council members having a small meeting about their newest arrival to Dragonstone. While the Hightower-Targaryens found sleep, the meeting concluded with the Targaryen family.

“He didn’t even demand my head or retribution for the death of his son,” Daemon growled out.

Rhaenys shook her head and made eye contact with the ill-tempered man, “No, he barely acknowledged your name. He thinks differently of the whole situation.”

“How so?” Corlys was also dumbfounded by [Name]’s sudden alliance with Rhaenyra. He also found it odd that [Name] didn’t want Daemon to suffer any consequences.

“[Name] puts the blame on his mother and her sworn protector Cole for the death of Rhaegar. He sees Daemon’s order as revenge for Aemond killing Lucerys and-” Rhaneys faltered trying to find the right words to describe [Name]’s motive for all of this, “he believes Rhaegar’s death to be collateral. You weren’t after [Name]’s son, were you?”

Daemon looked around the table and shook his head, “No. Not Rhaegar.”

“So you just proved him right,” Rhaenys continued on, “killing you or demanding any punishment from you will not bring him his son back. He’s learned that from you trying to avenge Lucerys. And he knows deep down that Rhaenyra is the rightful queen. He of all people should know that because he supported Rhaenyra’s claim along with Viserys.”

Jace nodded his head and vouched for his half-uncle, “[Name] has no desire for the crown even grandfather knew that. He never snickered behind my back or saw himself above me, never dished out the word ‘bastard’ like his brothers did.”

“He should hate me,” Daemon spat, “I killed his son!”

Everyone looked at Daemon with wide eyes from his outburst and Rhaenyra breathed out of her nose. She knew what ate away at her husband.

“Daemon, we know you feel guilty over the death of Rhaegar. Maybe this is [Name]’s punishment for you, to receive no punishment or consequences. To let you live on with innocent blood on your hands, to let you think of what you’ve done.”

Daemon looked up at his wife and glowered at her, “If I had Balerion, I would have melted this castle down to its bones, burning every person alive in here.”

Rhaneys straightened out her back and calmly replied, “Luckily [Name] knows how to use his authority on his dragon.”

Jace watched the back of [Name]’s head as he slowed down his pace to the castle. He didn’t know why, but Jace wanted to.

“[Name], I’m sorry about your loss. I-I know how it feels to lose someone, not a child, but a brother.”

Jace saw [Name] stop in his path and the young man turned around with a blank expression on his face. Perhaps Jace should have not said anything regarding Rhaegar, but [Name] spoke up with a soft voice.

“Aegon wanted me to burn you all and Otto wanted to put the blame on Rhaenyra having the people dub her as ‘The Cruel’. But I know my sister, your mother, she’s just like our father with a bit more spirit in her soul. I could never burn the true successor to the throne and if I have to make my family bend the knee with the power of Balerion, I will.”

[Name] looked up at the dark blue sky and said, “Rhaegar’s death opened my eyes and I’ve ignored the warnings from the red god. This time I will do anything for my family. Now come on, we can grieve together in the solitude of the castle walls.”

……

The next day, [Name] saw Rhaenyra’s dragon from afar, returning from her sudden trip to who knows where. Balerion noticed the golden dragon in the bright sun and called out in greeting to which Syrax replied with a screech of her own. Smiling softly at the interaction, [Name] commanded Balerion to do one last circle around his area.

Rhaenyra watched in awe as she rode her dragon, seeing the Dread patrolling the skies in all his dark imagery. Larger than any dragon she has ever seen, she was hopeful that Balerion and [Name] were on her side. Especially after the conversation with his mother.

She wanted [Name] to join in on the council meeting to discuss what was spoken too. To see if he had any advice of what his family could plan against her. So she urged Syrax to call for Balerion knowing that [Name] would catch on to the call.

The golden dragon moved her head side to side and let out a high pitched bellow to signal the black dragon to come back.

When [Name] heard Syrax’s call, he sighed and commanded Balerion to land on the beach where the black dragon made his nest. Swiftly, he took his black helmet off and began climbing down the ropes tied to his mount. Balerion grumbled then rested his head on the sand with a huff.

“Get some rest, Balerion,” [Name] took his gloves off next and placed his helmet next to his dragon, “we have tomorrow’s patrol as well.”

As if responding to his rider, Balerion's chest rumbled in agreement, the dragon closing his eyes for that much needed rest. Although, the black dragon did want to go on a hunt with his rider.

[Name] watched Syrax fly into the cave and he started making his long trek up to the castle. One of the cons of having a large dragon, you have to walk everywhere because it cannot sleep in a cave with other dragons. When [Name] was halfway to the castle, he saw a familiar red dragon fly out of the cave.

“Princess Rhaenys?” [Name] mumbled then hurried up the steps to see what was wrong.

When he made his way up to the council meeting, he spotted Rhaenyra looking pale and solemn. Helaena was by her side nodding to the words Rhaenyra spoke to her. Fearing that Rhaenyra was asking Helaena to fly out on Dreamfyre he interrupted the queen.

“Your Grace,” [Name] huffed and briskly made his way over to his wife. He set a hand on Helaena’s shoulder and said, “Send me, you promised me that Helaena wouldn’t have to fly Dreamfyre.”

Rhaenyra moved her eyes to [Name] and shook her head, “I was only giving Helaena some comfort, brother. Rhaenys is flying out to Rook’s Rest to provide backup to Lord Stuanton. There’s a possibility of her encountering Vhagar which is why you need to fly out with her. Now.” No time for goodbyes when Rhaneys was already flying out there.

[Name] looked down at Helaena and her eyes glistened with a teary goodbye.

“At once, Your Grace,” [Name] bowed his head at Rhaenyra and planted a quick kiss at the crown of Helaena’s head. Then he turned around demanding someone to give him a horse so he could ride out to Balerion.

Helaena watched her husband disappear out of sight and she looked up at Rhaenyra, “I know he’ll come back, but…the cost of Rook’s Rest would be far too great. It’s never a good thing to fight amongst blood.”

Rhaenyra looked away from the entrance and sighed. Helaena was right, odd as she may be.

……

[Name] had Balerion glide right above the sea water, knowing that if he had his dragon fly any higher than that, they would be spotted quickly. His heart raced in his chest and [Name] prepared his mind to fight his brother, Aemond. His biggest foe and greatest enemy now.

Aegon would never be on the battlefield just like Rhaenyra cause both parties were too important to be sent to battle. So he willed Balerion to fly faster to help Rhaenys against the green monstrosity that would soon come to Rook Rest.

Upon seeing the cliff Rook’s Rest was planted on, [Name] saw Meleys fighting a very family light pink and golden dragon. Eyes wide in surprise [Name] urged Balerion to fly faster seeing the blood of Sunfyre rain down on the earth.

“Aderī, Balerion,” [Name] shouted and the dragon grumbled in response. Then when they approached the cliff [Name] commanded Balerion to fly upwards parallel to the mountainside. The Lord of Rook’s Rest and his men felt a huge gust of wind blow them forward and turned around to see a giant dark beast rise into the sky with a thunderous roar. (qᵘⁱᶜᵏˡʸ)

High in the sky, [Name] spotted Vhagar flying her way towards the engaged Meleys and Sunfyre. “Naejot, Balerion,” The dragon rider growled in frustration seeing the highly focused gaze on Aemond’s face. (ᶠᵒʳʷᵃʳᵈ)

Meanwhile, Aegon held onto his mount hearing the painful cries leave Sunfyre’s throat. His ears shattered upon the noise that brought him sorrow. His mind racing a mile and his heart about to burst from his chest. That was until he heard the greatest roar in history rumble in the sky. His head snapped to the left and he saw Vhagar flying over to him with a determined Aemond on her back.

“Thank the gods!” Aemond cried in relief, but that relief was washed away. The look on Aemond’s face, it wasn’t a look of help, but a demand for blood and death.

“Dracarys!” Aemond shouted, the command Vhagar didn’t hesitate to defy.

Rhaenys and Aegon looked at the impending doom, both bracing themselves for the fire building up in the back of Vhagar’s throat as their dragons fought amongst each other.

Yet a desperate and willful demand shouted above Vhagar’s gurgling throat, “angōs, Balerion!” The black dread opened his mouth wide, snapping hard onto Vhagar’s flappy throat disrupting the line of fire. Vhagar roared out in pain while Aemond held tighter onto his mount, glaring at his brother who commanded Balerion to fly higher into the sky with Vhagar in his clutches.

But they were already too close to the earth for the command to have any merit, so he watched.

[Name] held onto his mount and watched Balerion hold onto Vhagar’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. Both large dragons took the show away from the smaller ones and [Name] couldn’t afford to look at Rhaenys when their biggest threat was in his grasp.

Before Balerion could sustain any injuries from Vhagar’s talons, [Name] ordered his dragon to back away. Not wanting to spoil his attack, Balerion swished his head tearing into Vhagar’s throat a bit more then kicked the green dragon to the earth. Balerion spread his wings wide parallel to the ground and glided over the burning men and fallen dragon with a victory cry, his tail smacking into some men running away.

The Black Dread took to the skies and [Name] turned around to see Sunfyre succumb to his injuries from Meleys. The golden dragon cried out with a high pitched screech before hitting the forest ground in silence and a puff of fire. [Name] cringed and turned away from the tragic scene. This was all happening too fast, Balerion had years of battle experience, but he didn’t. Neither did Aegon or Sunfyre.

Aegon couldn’t have survived that fall, he thought. It wasn’t possible. While distracted, an attack from Vhagar happened upon Balerion who roared out waking up [Name] from his stupor. He looked to his left and saw a small chunk of Balerion’s right shoulder blade in Vhagar’s mouth.

Quickly he held onto his reins with one hand and the other pulled Hellfire from its sheath. [Name] with strong legs, stood on his mount and began slicing at Vhagar’s saggy skin. The flames ate away at her flesh wounds.

“Damn traitor!”

[Name] ignored Aemond’s angered yell at him, for he was too focused trying to get Balerion help.

“I’ll kill you right here! And force Helaena back home, to fight with her true family!”

Hellfire burned brighter and [Name] stabbed Vhagar in her puffy cheek. Then he dragged his sword downwards to his mount forcing Vhagar to release Balerion because this fiery pain in her mouth was too much to bear.

Vhagar bellowed into the ash covered sky and [Name] demanded that Balerion dive down to escape from Vhagar’s talons. With a tactical retreat, Balerion flew away just in time for Rhaenys to strike a critical blow onto Vhagar.

Meleys attacked from behind and tore at Vhagar’s left wing causing the green dragon to breathe out fire into the sky. The Queen Who Never Was ended Aegon and Sunfyre, and now [Name] needed to pull his weight and end Vhagar.

[Name]’s heartbeat echoed in his head and he pulled Balerion back into the fight. If Aemond didn’t bring up Helaena in the fight, he would have left Rhaenys to claim the victory of killing Vhagar.

But Aemond was his now. Brother or not, you do not threaten his wife. Rhaenys saw the Black Dread making his way over with strong beats of his large wings. That look on [Name]’s face said everything she needed to know and she had Meleys release Vhagar, flying high into the sky to see the end of the Green’s Dragons at Rook’s Rest.

“Dracarys!”

His commanding voice sent shivers down Rhaenys’ spine and for the first time, she actually witnessed black fire shooting out of Balerion’s throat. Even at the safe distance she was at, the heat from it was too much.

Vhagar gave out a defeated bellow falling into the sea like a black fireball. A huge splash resounded in their ears and Rhaneys landed Meleys on top of Rook’s Rest looking down at the burning battlefield. Lord Staunton looked up at the princess and carefully asked, “Is it over?”

Rhaenys breathed in and out watching the aftermath of four dragons fighting. She and [Name] just ended the war in one battle. Balerion and Meleys, injured yet fearlessly fighting with their riders, ended the lives of two dragons. Suddenly Balerion landed on the burning field and roared at the usurper’s men.

One by one, men started surrendering with their weapons falling from their hands. Green banners left to be stomped on and she could hear some men whimper at the sight of the victorious dragons.

“Yes, Lord Staunton,” Rhaneys breathed out, “It is over.” Her eyes dragged over and saw a paranoid [Name] on his mount. She unhooked herself from her mount and Meleys moved a wing down to Balerion's back.

Meanwhile [Name] tried to catch his breath, but his chest felt like it could explode. His grip on Hellfire loosened and he pounded at his heart with an ache. His throat closed up and his vision got blurry.

“[Name], relax!”

The adult male blinked the tears away and saw a clear vision of Rhaenys holding onto his shoulders. She must have jumped onto Balerion from Meleys with great expertise.

“You need to calm down, breathe.”

She softly demanded, her face covered in ash morphed into worry as he said, “My own brothers, I killed them. My own blood.”

Rhaenys’ eyes softened at his turmoil. “Aemond, you saw him,” She tried to reason with him, “he would have burned Aegon were it not for you. You stopped Aemond and his tyranny, no one would blame you for doing that. And I killed Aegon, not you. You’d be wise to remember that you fight for Rhaenyra’s claim, you support the rightful heir. No one is going to call you a kinslayer.”

[Name] sucked in a deep breath and his shoulder slug forward in defeat despite winning a great battle for Rhaenyra. This happened all too fast and ended so quickly. Nothing was going to make him feel better right now.

“Princess Rhaenys and Prince [Name]!”

A voice shouted from the castle, it was Lord Staunton.

“The Hightowers have fled with their remaining men and there is no sight of Aegon, but his dragon has succumbed to its wounds. Shouldn’t we chase them down on dragonback and horses?”

Rhaenys looked back at the male adult in her arms and shouted back, “No! For now, we take this win and wait for Queen Rhaenyra’s orders on what to do next. Prepare Prince [Name] a hot bath and a meal. He fought well against his usurper brothers, it’s what you must do for him. And send a raven to Queen Rhaenyra. We have news to tell her.”

News, [Name] thought. She didn't describe it as good news for the Queen. His brothers deaths were definitely good news for the blacks. Although for him, it was just news.

...........................................................

MUSIC THAT INSPIRED THIS CHAPTER

There Will Be No Mercy - Ramin Djawadi

Rook's Rest, Pt 2 - Ramin Djawadi

The Red Woman - Ramin Djawadi

#x reader #hotd x male reader #hotd x reader #hotd season 2 #hotd #helaena x male reader #x male reader #helaena x reader #helaena the dreamer #helaena targaryen

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andthemoonsingswisely · 3 months ago

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my pet peeve is when the asoiaf fandom does mental gymnastics to justify parallels between Lyanna Stark and any of the stark children besides Jon and Arya. Parallels aren't just the color of someone's clothes, or a hobby...they have thematic purposes and are meant to reveal things about the involved characters, conflicts, and motivations. Arya being Lyanna 2.0 in terms of appearance and personality is a parallel because it shows what Lyanna would have been like had she been alive outside of the few sentences said about her. Jon defending Samwell Tarly and Lyanna defending Howland Reed is a parallel because it establishes both of them as people who defend those who don't conform to society's standards, and lays the groundwork for R + L = J. Arya being the ghost in harrenhal and Lyanna being the KotLT in Harrenhal further add to the theme of history repeating and cement these two characters' shared motivation of justice, and their similar speech patterns and appearances which lead Bran to confuse Lyanna for Arya in the vision as well as their "wolf-blood" are parallels because these things are key in Arya reclaiming her identity as a Stark. Throwaway lines like Sansa "pleading" like Lyanna and being "dead before her time" aren't really parallels in the sense that they don't reveal any unique aspect to Sansa's character or how her motivations and conflicts are similar to Lyanna's; one could argue that Jon actually dying is as much of a parallel to Lyanna being "dead before her time" or that Arya, too, having her identity stolen and pretending to be "no one" is also her being "dead before her time" if that was all that was necessary to be a parallel. I'm not going to go through every Sansa-Lyanna "parallel" and explain why they're wrong, as there have been other posts doing the same thing. However, another "parallel" I've seen lately is between Robb and Lyanna: people claim that Robb and Lyanna both haunting the narrative is a parallel to which I have to say...if a character who was important to the plot died OF COURSE they'd haunt the narrative! the situation around them when they died, as well as their social position and personality + motivations are too different to make their deaths an actual parallel. Robb was a firstborn son who was a military leader who died as part of the Freys' revenge to him breaking an oath, Lyanna was a girl who couldn't openly practice sword fighting and who died in a tower after giving birth. Robb went into war after the Lannisters killed Ned, Lyanna didn't go into war, that was started by Robert after she went with Rhaegar. Personality-wise? It's not like they're nothing alike, but there are no significant similarities between them either. It's like taking any two random characters from the novel; if you tried hard enough, I'm sure you could find some similarity between them, but nothing that's enough to create a true parallel.

#asoiaf #arya stark #jon snow #sansa stark #robb stark #lyanna stark

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kckt88 · 3 months ago

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A Dragon's Heart.

Summary:

Viserra Targaryen's marriage to Borros Baratheon was nothing more than a duty, a strategic alliance forged to prevent the dragons from dancing.

Yet the wife did her duty and bore her husband a son.

Borros was ecstatic that he finally had a son, and if he noticed that the boy looked nothing like him then he didn’t comment on it, for how could he when it could be argued that Rhaegar simply favoured his silver haired mother in looks and did not bear an entirely coincidental resemblance to the Lord Commander of the City Watch.

Warning(s): Angst, Arranged/Unwanted Marriage, Swearing, Family Drama, Dragons, Infidelity, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut, Kissing, Fingering, P in V, Breeding Kink, Attempted Blackmail, Conspiracy.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 11K

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Viserra soared high above Blackwater Bay, the wind whipping through her hair as she rode atop Vermithor. Her two-year-old son, Rhaegar, was securely strapped into the saddle in front of her, his delighted squeals mingling with the dragon's powerful roars.

The colossal dragon cut through the clouds with ease, the sun glinting off his bronze scales, creating a dazzling display against the blue sky.

As they approached the Red Keep, Viserra's keen eyes caught sight of a carriage emerging from the Kingswood. The Baratheon banner, with its distinctive crowned stag on a gold background, was proudly displayed.

A groan of frustration escaped her lips; her husband, Borros Baratheon, was arriving earlier than expected. She had hoped for a few more days of freedom before he made his presence known at the Red Keep.

Directing Vermithor with a firm tug on the reins, she guided the dragon to land near Vhagar’s nesting spot. The ancient dragon, let out a huff of annoyance as Vermithor’s landing shook the ground.

Viserra couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the grumpy dragon being disturbed from her slumber.

Detaching herself and Rhaegar from the saddle, she slid down Vermithor's side with practiced ease, landing gracefully on the ground.

Rhaegar, still giggling with excitement from the flight, clung to her as she made her way over to the waiting guards. They bowed respectfully before escorting her and her son back to the Red Keep.

Viserra sank into the warm bath in her chambers, letting the soothing water wash away the smell of dragon. The sounds of Rhaegar's giggles floated through the air, bringing a smile to her face.

Her son was playing with his dragon hatchling, Karnax, who was growing rapidly. Soon, Karnax would need to be moved to the Dragonpit to join the other dragons.

A transition that Rhaegar was vehemently opposed too, as every attempt to move Karnax had so far had been met with stubborn refusals and tantrums from the young prince, and bursts of flame from Karnax who would not be parted from his bonded rider.

As she finished bathing and began to dress, Viserra heard a methodical tapping on the wall. Recognizing the signal, she excused her maids, who curtsied and left the room.

After making sure the door was locked, she went over to the portrait on the wall and gave it a push. The hidden door swung open, revealing Aemond emerging from the secret passageway.

Without hesitation, Viserra flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Rhaegar, noticing Aemond, beamed with excitement. "Kepa!" he shrieked, running towards him with outstretched arms (Father).

Aemond scooped Rhaegar up from the floor, holding him close. "Byka zaldrīzes," he murmured affectionately (Little dragon).

Aemond set Rhaegar down gently and turned to Viserra, his expression serious. "I see Lord Borros will be arriving earlier than anticipated," he said, his voice low and measured.

Viserra nodded sadly, her heart sinking. She had hoped for a few more precious days with Aemond before her husband's unwelcome presence disrupted their world.

Her marriage to Borros was nothing more than a duty, a strategic alliance forged to prevent war, with no love to bind them. She understood why Borros had come; his recent letters had made it clear. He wanted another child. They had one son, but another was needed to secure their lineage.

"He’s been writing to me-" Viserra said quietly, her eyes downcast. "He wants me to give him another child. One son is not enough for him."

Aemond's jaw tightened. "He comes here for that-"

"Yes," she replied, her voice tinged with bitterness. "He often complains about me living in the Red Keep instead of Storm's End. I remind him that as heir to the Iron Throne, I need to learn how to rule. He usually relents, believing he will one day be King Consort. But this visit-he will use it as an opportunity to paw at me at every given chance." The thought made her stomach churn.

Aemond reached out, taking her hands in his. "Issa jorrāelagon-” (My love).

Viserra looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of determination and sorrow. "-Nyke dōrī jeldan syt bisa. Nyke jaelagon ao, mērī ao” (I never wished for this; I want you, only you).

Aemond pulled Viserra into a tight embrace, holding her close as she clenched her hands in the material of his golden cloak.

“Ao jāhor va moriot emagon issa” whispered Aemond (You will always have me).

“Nyke vēdros bisa” muttered Viserra, pressing her cheek against the cold material of Aemonds armour (I hate this).

“So do I” said Aemond softly.

Viserra stood with Rhaegar in her arms, waiting as Borros’ carriage came to a halt. The door swung open, and Borros stepped out, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Wife!" he bellowed, marching forward with heavy strides. He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a rough kiss on her cheek.

"My Lord," she greeted him with a forced smile, her tone cordial yet distant.

Rhaegar looked up at Borros with wide eyes, startled by the man's booming voice. Before he could react, Borros snatched him from Viserra's grasp, lifting him high into the air. Rhaegar cried out in surprise, his small hands flailing.

"Look at my handsome, sturdy son!" Borros declared proudly, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "He will make a fine King one day!"

Rhaegar struggled against Borros's grip, his cries growing more desperate. Viserra's heart ached at the sight, and she glanced around, catching sight of Aemond hovering nearby.

His hand was wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, his eye dark with barely restrained fury as he watched Borros manhandle Rhaegar.

Discreetly, Viserra shook her head at Aemond, signalling him to stand down. She then stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Husband, Rhaegar is not used to such-enthusiasm. Let me take him."

Borros looked at Rhaegar, who continued to struggle, and with a huff of irritation, he handed the boy back to Viserra. "Very well, take him. But he must grow accustomed to it."

Viserra held Rhaegar close, soothing him with gentle words. She met Aemond's gaze one last time, their silent understanding passing between them. Borros, oblivious to the tension, demanded, "You and the boy will accompany me. There is much to discuss."

With a final look at Aemond, Viserra nodded and followed Borros inside the Red Keep, Rhaegar still clinging to her.

Viserra stood in the guest chambers of the Red Keep, her son Rhaegar playing quietly at her feet with his wooden toys. Borros paced before her, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the stone floor.

"Wife, we must discuss the matter of another child," Borros began, his tone brooking no argument. "Rhaegar is a fine boy, but as the first born, he belongs to the throne. We need another son to inherit Storm's End."

Viserra took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Could one of your daughters' sons be named heir instead?"

Borros stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his expression stern. "None of my daughters are currently wed, a matter which I plan to discuss with the Queen. By birthing me a healthy son you have proved that you are fertile. There is no reason why you cannot give me more sons."

She nodded slightly, knowing that he would not be swayed. "Very well, my Lord."

Borros's gaze softened just a fraction "I will call upon you tonight, and I expect you to come."

Viserra's heart sank, but she kept her face impassive. "I will provide you with another son,"

Borros nodded, satisfied with her response. "Good. We must secure the future of House Baratheon and House Targaryen of course-"

As he turned to leave, Viserra glanced down at Rhaegar, who looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

She forced a smile for his sake, though her heart ached, she had begged her mother not to follow through on the betrothal, but her hands were tied.

The support of Storms End had been crucial in squashing the war before it truly began and Viserra had no choice but to marry Borros.

On the morning of her wedding she had shed many tears, praying to the gods that her intended would be struck down with some sudden illness that would mean the wedding would be rearranged or even cancelled, but alas the gods stayed silent, and Borros remained hale and healthy.

Her only semblance of solace was the fact that she had allowed Aemond to fuck her before the ceremony, his cock had felt glorious as he pounded inside her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts, his fingers gently caressing her pearl as she peaked calling his name.

It gave her a sense of twisted satisfaction that she did not clean herself and as she wed her husband, she could still feel Aemonds seed staining her small clothes.

Even as she spoke the vows, she had positioned herself in such a way that her gaze never left Aemond’s, and she could imagine that it was him she was pledging herself to and not Borros Baratheon.

The celebration after the wedding had been somewhat bearable given the ample supply of wine, which Borros indulged in, and of course discreetly slipping a little something into his cup also helped.

So much so that he found himself unable to perform his husbandly duties and after he had passed out on the bed, Viserra detangled herself from him and spent the night being fucked into the mattress by Aemond.

She had lost count of the amount of times that he had made her come using his mouth, fingers and cock, he was ravenous and unrestrained that night and she was more than happy to indulge him.

After she had returned to her chambers, Borros was snoring and drooling in his sleep, she had cut herself and wiped blood on the sheets, as proof of her lost innocence.

Climbing back into the bed, she laid as far away from Borros as she could, not wanting him to touch her, and in the morning, he had woken groggy but easily convinced that he had done his duty, especially when he saw the blood.

Throughout the day he was clapped on the back and offered wishes of congratulations on his wedding and successful bedding and Viserra was forced to endure the laughing innuendos from the Lords who had lingered after the celebrations.

Luckily, she didn’t have to endure many of Borros’ attempts to bed her as not too long after the wedding she discovered that she was with child, which was no surprise given how many times Aemond would spill his seed inside her.

The realm rejoiced when the news was announced, even more so when she entered the birthing bed eight moons later and delivered a son.

Rhaegar, her sweet little dragon. He was perfect, with his silver hair and amethyst eyes, the very image of his father.

Borros was ecstatic now that he finally had a son, and if he noticed that the boy looked nothing like him then he didn’t comment on it, for how could he when it could be argued that Rhaegar simply favoured his mother and grandmother the Queen in looks.

Nevertheless, the Iron Throne had its future heir in Rhaegar and now Borros was demanding one for Storms End, and Viserra would do her duty as before and provide her husband with another heir.

Aemond paced angrily around his chambers, his movements agitated and relentless. His brother, Aegon, lounged on a chair nearby, watching with a mix of amusement and annoyance.

"Sit down, brother," Aegon said, his voice slurred slightly from the wine. "Your constant pacing is making me sick."

Aemond shot him a withering look. "It's the amount of wine that you've poured down your throat that's making you sick."

Aegon laughed, a deep, carefree sound that echoed in the chamber. "True enough." He lifted a cup and offered it to Aemond. "Join me, then brother. It might do you some good."

Aemond hesitated, his jaw clenched with barely contained fury. But then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he snatched the cup from Aegon's hand and downed the contents in one go.

Aegon raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You’ve never been much of a drinker. What's wrong?"

Aemond's face twisted with anger. "Borros is in the Red Keep. He has demanded that Viserra provide him with another son."

Aegon scoffed. "Not like the first one is his anyway."

Aemond's glare could have melted steel. "Watch your tongue."

Aegon shrugged, unfazed. "Come now, Aemond. We both know Rhaegar is your son, not his."

"Keep your mouth shut," Aemond hissed, stepping closer to his brother, his eye blazing.

Aegon raised his hands in mock surrender. "Calm down. I promise to keep it quiet."

Aemond narrowed his eyes. "How do you know, anyway?"

Aegon chuckled. "I'm not the idiot everyone thinks I am. I see how you look at Viserra, and Rhaegar-he looks nothing like Borros. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out."

Aemond clenched his fists, his mind racing with the implications of his brother's words. They had always been careful, always discreet. But the truth was clear to anyone who looked closely enough.

"She deserves better," Aemond muttered, more to himself than to Aegon as he traced the scar on his palm.

Aegon nodded, surprisingly sober. "She does. But this is the game we play, brother. We all have our roles."

Aemond sank into a chair, his anger momentarily spent. He looked at his brother, seeing the truth in his words. "What do I do, Aegon?"

Aegon poured another cup of wine and handed it to Aemond. "You play your part. You protect Viserra and Rhaegar as best you can, fuck another son into her and pray that Borros has a painful yet rather unfortunate accident in the near future”

“Don’t tempt me-” muttered Aemond.

Suddenly Aemond and Aegon's conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Viserra, who stepped through the secret passageway.

She paused, surprised to see Aegon but quickly recovered, greeting him warmly. "Aegon, I didn't expect to see you here."

Aegon grinned, raising his cup in a mock salute. "Viserra, always a pleasure."

Aemond immediately moved to her side, concern etched on his face. "Are you ok?" he asked, pulling her into a tight embrace.

He pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her familiar scent, a mixture of lavender and something uniquely hers.

Viserra nodded, holding him close. "Yes, I'm fine."

Aegon watched the tender exchange with a slight smile before standing up. "I think that's my cue to leave. I'll see you both later." He winked at Aemond and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Aemond pulled back slightly to look into Viserra's eyes. "Did Borros have his way with you?" His voice was laced with concern and barely restrained anger.

Viserra shook her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "He tried, but he found himself unable to perform. Sleep has claimed him."

Aemond let out a sigh of relief, his tension visibly easing. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing her cheeks. "Thank the gods."

“Hopefully what I slipped into his wine will last the night”.

“Here’s hoping” replied Aemond.

Viserra's expression grew serious, her eyes searching his. "-I refuse to lay with that man, and I will not bear his children. If he’s so insistent on me providing him with another son, then I will do it on my terms, I want you to give me another babe”

“Viserra-” whispered Aemond.

“I want your seed to take root inside me again”

“Hmmm” rasped Aemond.

“Please raqiarzy. I need you” whispered Viserra, as she untied and removed her robe (Beloved).

Aemond's breath hitched as he caught sight of her nipples through the fabric, and he quickly nodded. “Yes”

Viserra held her breath as Aemond took hold of her, his hands traveling up and down her body, slowly, like he was memorising every inch of her.

“If I get between your legs tonight then I am going to make you fucking beg for it, issa dōna and I’ll only fill you up when you’ve been a good girl-” (My sweet).

Viserra shuddered at the way the muscles in his forearms flexed as his hands explored her body, dipping under the cotton shift she wore.

“Aemond, that feels so good-don’t stop” groaned Viserra, as his hand inched higher.

“Fuck, Viserra-” growled Aemond. His lips continued their journey as he took hold of the shift and pulled it over her head, exposing her naked body.

As soon as she was bared too him, Aemond bent his head down and began sucking on one rosy nipple, then the other.

Her hands were now in his long silver hair, pressing his mouth deeper into her chest and her head fell back on a groan.

“Aemond, you need to touch me-” whimpered Viserra.

“Not yet-let me play some more”

Viserra let her hands travel down to lift up his shirt. He broke away from his feast on her breasts for just a second to let her take it off.

The feeling of his skin against hers only added to her want. He continued his assault on her nipples, and it was driving her fucking insane.

His tongue flicked out across her nipple and she mewled at the contact, her core tensing in anticipation of what was to come.

Needing any kind of relief, Viserra pressed herself against him so she could find some sort of friction to help with the ache in her core.

This seemed to snap something inside of him, because Aemond had hauled her off the floor and then carried her to bed, her legs around his waist.

After he placed her on is bed, Aemond pressed a quick kiss to her lips before he paused to untie his breeches and pull them off.

He then crawled back on the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

“So fucking good” mumbled Aemond against her lips as he pulled her hips flush against his.

Slowly, one of his hands started to make its way down her body and she held her breath when she felt his finger start to inch inside of her stretching her out, readying her for more.

“So, fucking wet,” He mumbled against her. “-If you’re good, I’ll let you come like this-” whispered Aemond hotly. “I’ll let you come around my fingers before I give you my cock.”

Then he added a second finger inside of her heat and crooked his fingers in just the way he knew how to.

“Oh shit-“ Viserra panted out, clinging onto his shoulders.

“That’s it-” groaned Aemond as he slowly moved his fingers inside her.

“Fuck, Aemond-” whined Viserra, she was so turned on that she could already feel her peak approaching.

“I know your close-I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Let go-come for me”

“Yes-yes. Right there” moaned Viserra as the heat shot across her abdomen and she exploded.

“I want to play a little game with you” whispered Aemond against her ear, his fingers still stroking her pearl lightly and she bit her lip, only able to nod as her answer came out softly.

“Yes” whispered Viserra against his lips, and before she knew it, Aemond had picked her up around the waist, sat her on top of him and was pressing his cock against her entrance with a feral look in his eye as he watched himself pressed against her folds.

“I fucking love watching myself inch inside of you-” he told her in a low tone, the hand at her back sliding down to grip her arse and then she felt the head of his cock at her entrance.

“Aemond-" Viserra managed to pant out, gripping at his shoulders as he entered her from below.

Out of all the positions they had tried since their relationship began, this was one of his favourites.

Viserra loved it for her own reasons, she loved feeling close to him and loved the look of wonder on his face as he watched her breasts bounce up and down— she knew how much it turned him on, even more so after she had birthed Rhaegar and her tits were swollen with milk.

Aemond loved nothing more than sucking on her nipples, tasting her mothers milk as he sheathed his cock inside her.

Another groan erupted from her when Aemond finally moved his hips, pushing into her.

Viserra felt a fist in her long hair and her face was brought so close to his that their noses were touching.

"Do you feel that?" panted Aemond against her lips and flexed his hips into her again, the tip of his cock reaching that place inside of her that could make her explode if the right pressure was applied.

“Y-Yes”

"I'll give you all of me," whispered Aemond, a small grin on his lips as his forehead rested against hers as he continued to press into her with his cock. "If you can be good girl for me and not move an inch, I’ll let you have it-I’ll put another babe inside of you” He grinned wickedly at her. “But let's see how much self-control you really have, first"

And then without giving any warning, he rocked into her so painstakingly slowly that she felt her legs start to shake involuntarily.

"Don't you dare fucking move" said Aemond against her lips as his grip tightened on her arse cheek and the one in her hair kept her pressed tightly against him. “I’ll let you come when you’ve kept still for me.”

Viserra managed to keep her hips still, but only just. He was turning her on too much for this torture to last long.

He raised a finger and traced her bottom lip, and then the top before pressing his finger inside her mouth. She never broke her gaze as she licked his finger before sucking it deep into the wet heat of her mouth.

“Fuck”

But then Aemond reached out and pinched one of her nipples.

“Oh, Aemond-”

“Shall I keep playing with your nipples, or are you aching for me to touch you somewhere else?” groaned Aemond pinching her other nipple.

Viserra wanted his mouth on her skin, not just on her breasts. She wanted to move.

She needed more.

Putting everything out of her thoughts, instead, she ran one hand down her stomach and rubbed her pearl slowly as she looked him directly in the eye and bit her lip.

“I want you here” whispered Viserra, smiling as she heard the feral sound that was almost like a growl erupt from the back of his throat.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue along her throat, revelling in the musky scent and taste of her.

“You’re fucking unbelievable-” rasped Aemond flexing his hips again into her and making her groan loudly again.

Keeping eye contact and merely tracing down her body with his hand until it met hers, the seam of her slit was then encircled by his fingers and his cock was hard as steel inside of her.

“Don’t look away from me, I want to watch your face when you move on my cock.” He told her as his lips grazed along her jawline.

His hips moved into her again, stretching her out and hitting the place she needed him.

“Oh, shit-“ panted Viserra breathlessly against him.

“Right there, Viserra. That’s where you want it, isn’t it?” His cock kept pushing to the back of her, making her legs quake with the effort to keep her body still.

She wanted to beg him for more and have him moaning her name as he came deep inside of her. She wanted all of that.

But she could only have it if she was his good girl-she had to obey, first.

Aemond’s fingers began to focus on her pearl.

As soon as his digits made contact with her slick, hard nub, Viserra moaned and tightened her thighs around his waist.

“Stay still, or this will only take longer” growled Aemond roughly against her ear and his free hand grabbed at her hip, squeezing her to keep her still for him.

Viserra instinctively tried to raise her hips again, but he held her down and squeezed them to keep her in place.

Then he bit her over her pulse point. Hard. She cried out and Aemond rumbled in approval at how loud she screamed for him.

“Such a good fucking girl.” His tongue licked where he had just bitten down. “You always make the sweetest sounds for me-”

Aemond loved biting her, he always had.

Viserra moaned at the continuous touch of his fingers on her pearl and Aemond moaned with her, feeling her muscles squeeze and release around his cock as she tried to keep herself calm and controlled for him.

Aemond growled as he took her mouth in a rough kiss.

Opening to him, she savoured the feel of his tongue against hers.

“Be the fucking death of me” Aemond panted against her and his hips flexed in and out of hers so slowly that he was shaking himself with the effort to not just fuck her hard.

“Aemond, please” begged Viserra.

“Shhh-can you take a little more for me?” asked Aemond as he grabbed her hair and pulled it.

“I-I’ll try-” was all that she could say as she tried to keep her hips from rocking.

“That’s my good girl-” He rocked his own hips right into her, making them both hiss. “So, fucking tight-all mine”

“I need more” whimpered Viserra

Moving back up to her face, Aemond took her lips against his roughly as he finally thrust his hard, long cock right into her.

“That enough for you, sweetheart?” asked Aemond as he brought her hips back into his again, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head.

“Yes-more-” breathed Viserra, her nails digging into his shoulders as the sensation of him filling her.

Growling, Aemond quickly moved their positions so that Viserra was laid underneath him.

“Need to fuck you like this” mumbled Aemond into her hair before looking down at her as she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his waist.

As his pace picked up, she gripped his shoulders for dear life and moved with him, never taking her eyes from his.

“Keep going,” She panted against him. “Just like that-just like that”

“You like that?”

“Yes-yes Aemond” replied Viserra.

“I fucking love you-I love you so much” moaned Aemond, every thrust of his hips was forcing her further towards the headboard.

“Come for me, Aemond-fill me up-Oh, God!”

“Gonna come right where you need it – Right there – fuck! – Fucking going to love seeing you round with my child-“ He rotated his hips as he spoke, his forehead against hers.

Viserra scrawled her nails down Aemond’s back hard enough to leave marks making him growl in approval and fuck her harder into the mattress.

“Mark me fucking harder” ordered Aemond as Viserra scored her nails down his back again.

“A-Aemond”

“So, fucking good for me-Oh, shit-yes-” moaned Aemond, his hips crashing into hers, babbling to himself and hitting all the right spots for her.

“Aemond I’m close-let me come, please-“ begged Viserra. She was so close, just a little more and she would be there.

“Making me come-give you another babe” said Aemond against her lips as his thrusts started to become erratic.

“Aemond, yes-yes, give me another babe”

“FUCK!” roared Aemond, the heat spreading across his abdomen as he exploded, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

“Oh shit – Aemond!” shouted Viserra as she clutched Aemond’s shoulders to ride the wave of pleasure that coursed through her body.

Aemond collapsed on top of her, and Viserra hugged his body tight.

“You are mine. Do you hear that?” whispered Aemond against her into her ear. “Everything about you.”

“Yours Aemond. Always yours”

Aemond and Viserra lay together in the afterglow, their bodies intertwined. Aemond's hand rested gently on Viserra's stomach, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on her skin.

"I wonder if my seed has already taken root," he mused aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Viserra giggled, the sound light and musical. "It's a bit soon to tell"

He smirked, his hand continuing its tender exploration. "I think I put it a good bit of effort there”

Viserra laughed, a playful glint in her eyes. "Yes-you did"

“I wish we could stay this way forever”

“So do I” replied Viserra quietly.

Soon, Aemond fell asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful. Viserra watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with love, but reality soon re-surfaced and she knew that she had to get back to her husband.

Gently, she pressed a kiss to Aemond's lips, a silent promise of her return. She slipped out of bed, gathering her nightdress and robe, putting them back on.

With one last lingering look at Aemond, she made her way back through the secret passageway and into the chambers Borros was occupying during his stay.

The room was dark, and Borros was still sleeping soundly. She climbed into bed next to him, moving with practiced ease.

As she settled, Borros mumbled in his sleep and draped an arm over her. The weight of it felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the tender embrace she had left behind.

Carefully, she picked up his arm and moved it off her, shuffling to the edge of the bed. She lay there, staring into the darkness, the feeling of Aemonds seed sticky between her thighs.

Aemond stood at the gatehouse of King’s Landing, his imposing figure clad in black armour and a sweeping gold cloak, his hand curled around the hilt of his sword.

The clinking of metal and the soft rustling of his cloak were the only sounds that accompanied him as he observed the comings and goings of people through the city gates.

Carriages rolled by with lords and ladies, their attendants following behind on horseback, while smallfolk ambled along on foot, their faces a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

The distant roar of Vhagar reached his ears. His old dragon’s roar was a reminder of the weight he carried, a silent acknowledgment of his own unrest.

Becoming the Commander of the City Watch had never been something Aemond envisioned for himself, yet here he was, having accepted the post granted to him by Rhaenyra.

The position had been a necessary concession, a way to atone for his part in the attempted repudiation of the Iron Throne.

Four years had passed since Rhaenyra had taken her place as Queen, and while they had made some measure of peace, true unity remained elusive.

His thoughts turned to his family’s current situation. His mother roamed the Red Keep freely, enjoying the gardens and the Sept as she pleased.

Aegon indulged in his vices, drinking and whoring his way through the Streets of Silk, living his life as he wanted.

Helaena found solace in motherhood, embracing her role with quiet grace, collecting her bugs and flying through the skies with Dreamfyre as often as she wanted.

Daeron was currently residing on Driftmark with Jacaerys and Baela, enjoying his freedom, away from the constraints of Oldtown and thriving with Tessarion.

His grandsire Otto and Criston Cole had been amongst those executed for treason and his Uncle Gwayne only visited the Red Keep occasionally.

Aemond caught sight of Lucerys walking arm in arm with Rhaena, as they laughed along with one another, the two of them would soon be married so no doubt this was some courting nonsense.

Aemond felt a surge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, he never imagined he would ever want to take a woman to wife.

He knew as a second son he would have no choice but to marry, but actually having that desire to tie himself to someone for the rest of his life was foreign to him.

Until he saw Viserra again.

Rhaenyra and her mix of strong bastards and true borns had descended upon the Red Keep to defend Jace’s status as heir to Driftmark.

He’d not seen his half-sister’s oldest child since he’d lost his eye after claiming Vhagar, he could still remember her attempts to press a torn shred of her nightgown against his maimed face and her anguished pleas for help.

Ever since he was a child, he always thought her beautiful but when she stepped into the training yard alongside her dark haired brothers, he was sure his heart had stopped.

Her long silver hair flowed like liquid moonlight, cascading down her back with an ethereal grace. Her light amethyst eyes, that seemed to sparkle in the sun made his cock stir.

All through the petition he couldn’t stop himself from imagining all the ways in which he would please her, he wanted to feel her lips against his, he wanted to caress her soft pale skin and he wanted to hear the pretty noises she would make as he sheathed his cock inside her.

He’d been hard as a rock, his cock throbbing with desperate need, and soon as the petition was over, he’d excused himself and returned to his chambers, unlacing his breeches to take himself in hand and sate his desire by fucking his fist.

At the meal, she had chosen to sit next to him, her proximity and the scent of her on the air made the arousal stir within him once again, even more so when she offered him a cup of wine and their fingers briefly touched as he took it from her, throughout the meal they kept exchanging curious looks, her cheeks tinged pink when their gaze connected.

After his final tribute, he had stormed through the corridors of the Red Keep only to find himself standing in front of her chambers, he was about to knock when she opened the door, they exchanged no words as she slowly stepped back and allowed him entry.

As soon as the door was closed, he was on her.

Never had he felt such desire before, he’d been with the madame Sylvi when he was thirteen, he did not enjoy a single second of it and vowed never to return.

It was just after his sixteenth name day that he grew more curious about matters of sex.

He wouldn’t break his vow and return to the brothel, and he didn’t want to mess around with the maids, so he decided on taking a few older widowed noble ladies into his bed, and he was grateful for the experience as they taught him the importance of a woman’s pleasure.

When he took Viserra to bed for the first time, he remembered everything he’d learnt and he took Viserra’s maidenhead that night, and all those pretty noises he imagined her making became a reality.

He spent ample time devouring her cunny as he teased her fold with his fingers, delighting in the way she whimpered his name as she peaked, he placed his cock at her entrance and eased in slowly, not wanting to cause her any pain, but when she squirmed impatiently and moved her hips against his, begging him so sweetly to fuck her harder he lost it.

He knew before he even spilled his seed that he wanted her to be his wife, that previously foreign desire had roared to life inside him and he couldn’t ignore it.

He wanted to ask for her hand in marriage, his mother and grandsire would try to contest it, but his mind was made up, Viserra had returned to Dragonstone the next day and Aemond decided he was going to ask the King.

But before he could even form the words in his mouth, the King was dead, and his drunken wastrel of a brother was crowned instead of Rhaenyra.

The next time he saw Viserra was at Storms End, he was supposed to choose one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters to wed to secure an alliance, and even though the thought turned his stomach he had to lock his true heart’s desire away and do his duty.

But she was angry with him, as she believed the words he whispered to her as he took her maidenhead were false, that he had used her for his own pleasure and she out manoeuvred him and offered herself to Borros who happily accepted.

He had been furious, and when she had been offered a room for the night to wait out the weather, he had demanded the same, then he went to her and they argued fiercely, hurling insults at one another until the passion erupted between them and he spent the night fucking her into the mattress.

With Storms End firmly under Rhaenyra’s yoke, his brother’s reign as King was over, but his own affair with Viserra continued.

He couldn’t let her go, even on the morning of her wedding he fucked her, and it gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that his seed was still dripping from her as she said her vows.

There was the expectation that she would do her duty an provide an heir for Borros, and not too long after the wedding she announced that she was with child.

Willingly siring a child on another man’s wife wasn’t something Aemond ever thought he’d do, but it was what they both wanted, and it would ensure that Borros left her alone.

When she was almost eight moons into her pregnancy, they went to Dragonstone under the cover of night and spoke the words to one another as they used dragon glass to cut their lips, painting each other’s foreheads with the symbols of fire and blood, the identical cuts to their palms, their blood mixing together as one as they pressed their palms together, reciting the ancient words of their forebears.

She might be with wife of Borros Baratheon in the eyes of the seven, but in the traditions of old Valyria she was his.

They day she birthed their son he had wanted so desperately to be by her side, but men were not allowed in the birthing room.

Borros had sequestered himself far away in another part of the Red Keep, drinking wine whilst he waited to hear news of the babe once it was born.

Aemond had remained stationed outside the room with Daemon, who of course knew about Viserra and Aemond’s relationship but chose to say nothing because he would have no harm come to his daughter.

After she had given birth, and the Maester’s had done what they needed to do with regards to things called the after birth and some other stuff Aemond did not need to hear about, there was a moment where he was allowed into the room.

Rhaenyra had commanded that there be no immediate announcement, so there was time for Aemond to meet his child.

She had just birthed their babe and Viserra had never looked more beautiful, Aemond was in awe of her as he approached the bed, in her arms there was a little silver haired babe.

“A son-” muttered Viserra as she held out the tiny bundle.

Aemond sobbed openly as he took his son in his arms. Then Viserra blessed him with the greatest gift in the world when she allowed him to name their son.

“Rhaegar” whispered Aemond as he pressed a gentle kiss to his sons forehead.

Of course, news of Rhaegar’s birth would soon spread, but Aemond was grateful for that moment given to him by Rhaenyra and Daemon, and aside from Viserra he was one of the first that got to hold his son and one of the first to look into those little amethyst eyes.

Deep down he knew that what they were doing was wrong, but he couldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to.

As Lucerys and Rhaena disappeared from sight, the jealousy lingered. Why did those bastard strong boys get to openly marry for love, when he and Viserra were the only ones made to sacrifice their true heart’s desire for the sake of an alliance.

It wasn’t fair.

The thought of Borros, that portly, illiterate swine, being married to his beloved Viserra, filled him with disgust.

He hoped that his seed would soon take root, as the confirmation of another child would mean that prattling pig would scurry back to Storms End and carry on with whatever took his fancy, which was usually a woman, as his taste for mistresses was no secret.

People would look at Viserra with sympathetic eyes, but she gave no shit for her husband’s indulgences, as they often kept him occupied.

But until there was confirmation of another child, here he was in the Red Keep, boasting to all who would listen about the night he spent with his lady wife which he was certain would result in another child.

Aegon's suggestion about Borros suffering an unfortunate accident flickered through his mind, a dark idea that was becoming more and more tempting as time passed.

“I’ve told you before that what your doing is dangerous” warned Rhaenyra.

“Do you not remember how I begged and pleaded with you not to make me marry Borros? I admitted to my love for Aemond, that surely a marriage between us would have better served our family’s interests-” said Viserra, her voice tight with emotion.

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened, her royal composure slipping just a fraction. “-I do remember. But you must understand, I did not want to be labelled an oath breaker. The marriage to Borros was a strategic move, necessary to prevent the Greens from securing an alliance with Storm’s End.”

Viserra’s eyes narrowed, her frustration boiling over. “A hasty offer made in desperation! There was no binding agreement between me and Borros—. You, as Queen, could have found any number of reasons to avoid the marriage. But no, you forced me into it just as your father did to you”.

Rhaenyra’s face flushed with anger. “That is not fair, Viserra.”

“Isn’t it?” Viserra scoffed. “Wouldn’t things have been much easier if Viserys had allowed you to marry Daemon or even Ser Harwin? But instead, he demanded that you marry Laenor-to make up for him choosing to marry Alicent instead of Laena, and look how that turned out.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with hurt. “You have no right to judge me. I made mistakes, yes, but—”

Viserra cut her off, her voice rising. “And you have no right to judge me for my choices. You had an affair and birthed bastards. That’s different, you say, but it always is when it comes to you.”

“That’s not the same,” Rhaenyra retorted, her voice rising in defence. “Laenor was aware of my involvement with Harwin. He himself had intimacies with others. Borros has no idea of your involvement with Aemond.”

“You yourself have been complicit in covering up my involvement with Aemond, just as my father has-so don’t lecture me” said Viserra.

“I would not see you harmed for it-you’re my daughter. But you need to be careful” replied Rhaenyra.

Viserra’s expression softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. “I’m trapped mother-I’m married to a man I do not want”.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, the weight of her daughter’s words sinking in. “I did what I thought was best for the realm”.

Viserra’s anger surged, her face flushed as she struggled to control her rising emotion. “The realm,” she spat, her voice trembling with fury. “It’s always about what’s best for the realm! Jace got to marry Baela, Luke is soon to marry Rhaena. Why is it that I am the only one who had to sacrifice my own heart’s desire for the sake of the realm? It’s not fair!”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened with a mix of guilt and sympathy. She reached out to her daughter, her own heart aching at the sight of Viserra’s distress. “Viserra, please-I know it’s been hard.”

Viserra wiped at her tears, her voice pleading. “Mother, there must be something you can do. Surely there’s a way to fix this. I can’t bear the thought of being stuck in this marriage when my heart is with Aemond.”

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her face etched with sadness. “I wish I could offer you a solution, but there is no grounds for an annulment. As far as everyone is concerned, the marriage has been consummated and you have borne a son. Rhaegar is officially the son of Borros Baratheon. It doesn’t matter that he is really Aemond’s—what matters is how it appears to the realm.”

Viserra’s shoulders slumped, the weight of her mother’s words hitting her like a physical blow. “So, there’s nothing we can do?”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her own eyes filled with tears. “No, Viserra. The marriage is a matter of public record, and any attempt to dispute it would be disastrous. The realm sees Rhaegar as Borros’ son, and there’s no way to change that without causing further chaos.”

Viserra’s tears fell freely now, her voice a mere whisper. “I just wanted to be with Aemond. To have the life I dreamed of, not this-this cage.”

Rhaenyra embraced her daughter, her own heart breaking at the sight of Viserra’s pain. “I’m so sorry, my love. I wish I could undo everything and give you the happiness you deserve. I truly do.”

Viserra clung to her mother, the tears continuing to flow as she whispered through her sobs. “Then why does it feel like I’m the only one paying the price?”

Rhaenyra stroked Viserra’s hair gently, her own tears mingling with those of her daughter. “Because sometimes, the sacrifices we make for the realm come at the highest personal cost. I never meant for it to be like this for you, but I know that doesn’t make it any easier.”

In the dimly lit chamber of Maester Gerardys, Viserra sat on the edge of a cushioned chair, her expression a mix of apprehension and hope.

The maester, a man of great experience and gentle demeanour, went about his examination with practiced ease.

“Very well, Princess,” Maester Gerardys said, adjusting his spectacles. “Let’s start with some questions to assess your condition. How long has it been since your last monthly bleeding?”

Viserra took a deep breath before answering, “It has been over two moons.”

Gerardys nodded thoughtfully. “Have you experienced any tenderness in your breasts?”

“Yes,” Viserra confirmed.

The Maester’s face broke into a reassuring smile as he finished his examination. “Based on your symptoms and the examination, I can confirm that you are with child again.”

Viserra’s eyes brightened with a mixture of joy and nervousness. She nodded, absorbing the news. “Thank you, Maester Gerardys.”

“As you’ve already given birth before,” Gerardys continued, “you are familiar with what to expect. Nonetheless, I advise you to take things easy. Ensure you maintain a good balance of fruit and meat in your diet. It is important for both your well-being and the health of the child, but you also need to be more mindful of pregnancy related sickness”

Viserra thanked him once more before leaving his chambers, her mind already drifting to the prospect of sharing the news with her family.

As she walked down the corridor towards Helaena’s chambers, her steps were light, her heart buoyant with the news.

When she entered Helaena’s room, a warm scene greeted her: Rhaegar was playing happily with Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor.

The children’s laughter filled the room, creating a pleasant backdrop to the unfolding moment.

Helaena looked up from where she was sitting, a serene smile on her face. “Viserra, is everything alright?”

Viserra’s smile widened as she approached, her eyes sparkling with the joy of her news. “Yes, everything is wonderful. I’m expecting another child.”

Helaena’s face lit up with genuine happiness. “That is wonderful news! Congratulations”

“Thank you” replied Viserra

However, Helaena took Viserra’s hand, her expression grew more serious. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Stags attack if threatened”

Viserra squeezed Helaena’s hand gratefully. “I’ll keep that in mind”

“The dragon grows restless-” muttered Helaena wistfully.

Viserra turned to Rhaegar, who was still engrossed in his play. “It’s time to go, my little one.”

Rhaegar looked up, his face lighting up as he bid farewell to the other children. “Bye-bye, Jaehaerys! Bye-bye, Jaehaera! and Bye-bye, Maelor!”

Viserra lifted him gently into her arms, feeling the familiar weight of him against her chest.

As she carried him out of the room, her heart swelled with affection for her son and the little dragon currently growing inside her.

The grand hall was abuzz with excitement as Borros Baratheon boomed with loud, boisterous cheer.

The announcement of Viserra’s second pregnancy had stirred a flurry of congratulations and celebrations among the lords and ladies.

Borros, unable to contain his delight, put his arm around Viserra’s shoulders, pulling her close in a gesture that bordered on possessive.

“Another child!” Borros declared, his voice carrying over the crowd. “I’m sure this next one will be another boy. My wife is a fertile woman-I shall see you always round with my child-”

Viserra recoiled slightly, her face flushed with discomfort. She reached down to grasp Rhaegar’s hand tightly, her fingers entwining with his.

As the crowd continued to congratulate Borros, the atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by a cutting voice.

“Let’s hope this one actually favours our father more than the last,” came a sharp, disdainful tone.

Viserra turned to see Borros’ daughter’s hovering by the entrance, their expressions twisted with barely concealed disdain.

Cassandra and Floris' lips curled into sneers as they took in Viserra’s presence. She greeted them politely, though their unspoken contempt was not lost on her.

As Borros enthusiastically accepted congratulations from passing lords and ladies, he reached for Rhaegar, who had been standing shyly by his mother’s side. “Come here, Rhaegar. Greet your sisters.”

Rhaegar squirmed in Borros’s grasp; his small face flushed with unease.

As Borros tried to force the boy into a more social posture, Rhaegar began to cry. The sight of his distress only seemed to provoke Borros’s irritation further.

“ENOUGH-” bellowed Borros.

“No-No-Nooooo” wailed Rhaegar.

“Husband-please, he doesn’t want to” urged Viserra as she tried to intervene, ignoring the looks of disdain from Cassandra and Floris.

“Nonsense, the boy will do as he is-”

“-What’s going on here?” asked Aemond as he appeared in the doorway, his eye narrowing as he watched Borros’ rough handling of Rhaegar.

“I’m merely celebrating the good news that my wife is with child again-but as usual my son is being a spoilt brat-” said Borros, with an air of annoyance.

He put Rhaegar down, who immediately ran to Aemond, wrapping his tiny arms around his father’s legs.

Aemond looked down at his son, his heart aching with a protective instinct.

Though he wished he could offer more comfort in public, he settled for gently stroking Rhaegar’s hair, trying to soothe him.

Floris, her cheeks tinged pink, greeted Aemond shyly. “My Prince,” she murmured, her tone softer than her earlier disdain.

Aemond responded with a brief, polite nod, his attention returning to Rhaegar’s tear-streaked face.

“Remarkable isn’t it-how much Rhaegar looks like Prince Aemond,” said Cassandra, ignoring Floris who shook her head slightly.

“Most Targaryen’s favour each other in looks” replied Viserra.

“Remind me again where your brother got their dark hair from?”

“Princess Rhaenys’ mother was a Baratheon, no doubt they inherited it from her” said Viserra.

“Yeah right” muttered Cassandra lowly as she folded her arms over her chest.

Sensing the tension in the air, Aemond quickly lifted Rhaegar into his arms “-Perhaps I should escort Princess Viserra and the young Prince to their chambers,” Aemond suggested, his voice firm but considerate.

Borros waved his hand dismissively. “Very well-I shall you at dinner wife”

“Yes, husband” replied Viserra as she followed Aemond out of the hall, her gaze lingering on Cassandra who was now talking to her father.

Once Aemond had escorted Viserra and Rhaegar back to her chambers, he carefully set Rhaegar down on the soft rug in front of the fire.

The boy, now calm began to play with a se of small wooden dragons.

Aemond turned his attention to Viserra, his heart aching with concern for her.

He crossed the room with purposeful strides and drew her into his arms. The comforting weight of his embrace enveloped her, and he gently stroked her stomach, his touch tender and reassuring.

“Forgive me for not coming sooner,” Aemond murmured, his voice low and earnest. “I was waylaid by news of thieves causing trouble in the city”

Viserra buried her face into Aemond’s gold cloak, drawing solace from the familiar scent of him. “It’s alright,” she whispered, her voice muffled but warm.

Aemond’s brow furrowed slightly as he thought of the earlier encounter. “I did not like seeing Borros’ hands on you or the way he was treating Rhaegar”.

Viserra’s arms tightened around him as she leaned into his embrace. “Now that I’m with child again, he’ll likely return to Storm’s End. He may be less inclined to remain here if he feels secure in the continuation of his line.”

Aemond nodded, holding her closer, his hope mingling with the weariness in his voice. “I hope that is true. I wish for you to be free from his grasp for as long as possible”

“So do I” replied Viserra as she closed her eyes.

Viserra sat at the table, her posture stiff and her fingers barely touching the food on her plate.

The grand dining hall was filled with the sounds of conversation and clinking cutlery as the guests enjoyed their meal.

Borros sat beside her, a heavy hand resting possessively on her arm. Despite the festive atmosphere, Viserra’s mind was clouded with unease.

Rhaenyra, seated across from her, noticed Viserra’s discomfort and leaned in with concern. “Are you alright, Viserra? You seem unwell.”

Viserra forced a faint smile, though her eyes betrayed her discomfort. “The child I carry unsettles my stomach”.

Rhaenyra nodded sympathetically. “I remember that feeling well. When I was pregnant with you, my stomach was very delicate. Only lemon cakes dipped in meat gravy seemed to agree with me.”

“Quite a combination Your Grace” laughed Borros.

“A dragons tastes are known to be capricious my Lord” replied Rhaenyra.

As the meal continued, Viserra’s gaze wandered around the table. She noticed Floris’s eyes firmly fixed on Aemond, who was deeply engaged in conversation with Aegon.

Helaena stared intently at her fork, muttering about how "The beast will devour-"

Lucerys and Rhaena giggled quietly, their mirth a stark contrast to the tension Viserra felt.

Daemon held Rhaenyra’s hand, whispering something into her ear, and Alicent was engrossed in conversation with Cassandra.

Viserra, trying to maintain her composure, leaned towards Borros and spoke discreetly. “Will you be returning to Storm’s End soon?”

Borros’s face lit up with a satisfied smile. “Yes, but I wish for you to accompany me. Now that you’re expecting my second child, it’s only right that the child be raised where he will one day rule.”

Viserra’s eyes widened in surprise. “But surely, I need not come so soon. There’s no immediate need for me to leave the Red Keep.”

Borros’s expression hardened. “You have been away from my side for far too long. It will also do Rhaegar some good to experience life outside of Kings Landing”

Viserra’s gaze shifted to Aemond, who was staring intently at Borros, his hand gripping the fork with visible tension.

“I also have high hopes that the Queen will grant my request for Floris to marry Prince Aemond” said Borros.

“W-What?” asked Viserra, her heart pounding in her chest as looked over at Floris who was smiling.

“As I said my Lord, the decision lies with Aemond” said Rhaenyra, her gaze flickering to Viserra who had gone very pale.

“I do hope you consent to the match Aemond-the Lady Floris is a good choice” said Alicent happily.

“Yes it would be nice to see the Prince with a wife of his own” said Cassandra smirking as she took a sip of wine.

“W-Well I-I-” muttered Aemond awkwardly.

Floris’s expression was hopeful as she took Aemond’s hand and said, “I will be a good wife to you my Prince and provide you with as many children as you desire”

The words were like a blade to Viserra’s heart. Her vision blurred as nausea overwhelmed her.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned over the table and vomited, the contents of her stomach splattering across the fine linens.

Panic and embarrassment surged through her as she looked around, the room now filled with shocked gasps and murmurs.

Ignoring Rhaenyra’s frantic calls and the concerned looks of the others, Viserra stumbled to her feet and fled the dining room.

Viserra fled through the corridors of the Red Keep, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls as her breath came in ragged gasps.

She burst into her chambers; the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind her. Without hesitation, she flung herself onto the bed, the soft fabric doing nothing to cushion the weight of her despair.

Viserra buried her face in the pillows, her sobs wracking her body. The thought of Aemond marrying Floris was a knife twisting in her heart, a cruel mockery of her dreams.

She felt suffocated by the expectations and the secret she could no longer bear to keep.

The idea of being taken to Storm’s End gnawed at her with a relentless ache. The Red Keep was her home.

It was where she had made memories, where Rhaegar had been born where he had learned to walk and talk.

She couldn’t bear the thought of uprooting her life, of moving to a place where she would be miserable.

It would also mean tearing Rhaegar away from Aemond, who had been a steadfast presence in their lives.

Viserra’s tears soaked the pillows as she clutched them tightly. The weight of the lies, the secrecy, and the constant deception felt insurmountable.

Her heart ached with the realization that she had become a mere piece in a game she had never chosen to play. The facade she maintained was crumbling, the strain of it all too much to bear.

The soft click of the secret entrance behind the portrait barely disturbed the silence in Viserra's chamber.

The portrait swung open with a muted creak, and Aemond slipped through the hidden passageway.

Seeing Viserra crumpled on the bed, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her sobs, his heart clenched in response.

Aemond approached the bed and sat down gently on the edge, his movements deliberate and tender.

Without a word, he reached out and enfolded her in his arms. His hand moved soothingly up and down her back, the touch a silent promise of his unwavering support.

“Shh, Viserra,” he whispered softly, his voice a calming balm to her frayed nerves. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

Viserra’s sobs gradually quieted as she leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his presence. She clung to him, her tears slowing as she felt the strength and steadiness of his touch.

“I will not marry Floris,” Aemond murmured, his voice filled with a deep, resolute certainty. “There is no one else who will ever compare to you. You have my heart, Viserra. Always.”

Viserra’s breath hitched, her heart aching with the intensity of his declaration. She tilted her head slightly to look up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears.

“You have mine” whispered Viserra.

“I will never forget the vows we spoke to one another on Dragonstone,” he said softly. “The dragon glass, our blood joined together as one, the cuts on our palms. Our night beneath the stars, making love as husband and wife in the ways of old Valyria.”

Aemond’s fingers traced gentle patterns on her back, his touch conveying the depth of his emotions.

The memories of that night, the sacred promises they had made, the bond they had forged, were all rekindled in his words.

The night had been a testament to their love, a moment of unity and passion that had forever intertwined their fates.

Viserra felt the weight of his words and the sincerity behind them. Her tears had slowed to a soft, steady stream as she absorbed the reassurance in his voice.

In his embrace, Viserra found a moment of peace, a respite from the chaos that had threatened to overwhelm her.

The gentle rhythm of Aemond’s breathing, the steady beat of his heart against her cheek, provided a soothing counterpoint to the storm of emotions that had consumed her.

Aemond returned to his chambers with a heavy heart, the weight of his earlier conversation with Viserra still pressing upon him.

He was eager for solitude, for a moment to collect his thoughts away from the pressures and expectations of the court.

But as he opened the door to his chamber, he was met with an unexpected sight.

Floris was lounging in his bed, her form draped casually beneath the sheets.

“What are you doing here?” Aemond demanded, his voice sharp and commanding.

Floris stretched languorously, her expression a mix of amusement and defiance. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she purred, her voice smooth and inviting.

Aemond’s irritation flared. “Get out,” he ordered.

Unperturbed, Floris slowly rose from the bed, revealing her naked body. Aemond quickly averted his gaze, his jaw tightening.

“I’ve wanted you ever since you came to Storm’s End seeking a marriage, when you had us all line up-I knew you were going to choose me” Floris said, her voice a sultry whisper as she moved closer to him.

Aemond’s face hardened. “That was then. This is now. Things have changed” he said with a steely resolve.

Floris’ eyes glinted with a mixture of challenge and seduction. “Are you not tempted by me?”

“No,” Aemond replied, his tone clipped.

Floris stepped closer; her gaze fixed on his. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not tempted.”

Aemond turned to meet her gaze, but before he could respond, Floris closed the distance between them and kissed him.

The touch of her lips was insistent, but Aemond’s reaction was immediate. He pushed her away, his expression a mix of frustration and anger.

“I said get out,” he repeated, his voice firm and unyielding.

Floris stumbled slightly, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and indignation.

Aemond grabbed her gown from where it lay discarded on the floor and threw it at her, the fabric landing with a soft thud at her feet.

“Get dressed and leave my chambers,” he ordered with steely determination.

Floris, visibly shaken but maintaining her composure, quickly dressed.

As she was about to leave, she shot Aemond a venomous look. “I know about your involvement with Viserra,” she said, her voice dripping with malice. “Perhaps you should consider that while you’re turning me away.”

“How?” asked Aemond.

“Oh please-I’m not blind. You can’t keep your eye off her, and your always hovering around one another” replied Floris as she came closer.

“That doesn’t mean anything” snapped Aemond.

“Of course it does, not to mention Rhaegar is identical to you, he has your sharp features-” said Floris as she reached out and ran her fingers along his chin.

“What do you want in return for your silence?” Aemond demanded, his voice low and tense as he moved away.

Floris, her demeanour cool and calculated, met his gaze with a hint of amusement. “What makes you think I intend to keep it quiet?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “If you were going to tell your father, you would have done so already. You clearly have some intention of using this information to get something you want.”

Floris smiled, a sly, predatory smile. “You’re correct.”

“So, what do you want?” asked Aemond.

“I want you” replied Floris.

Aemond scoffed, clearly irritated. “I’m not interested.”

Floris’ eyes narrowed, but her tone remained steady. “In exchange for my silence, you will agree to the marriage.”

Aemond’s face hardened. “I refuse.”

Floris raised an eyebrow. “Then let me warn you. If my father finds out about Viserra’s affair and the fact that Rhaegar isn’t his son but yours, what do you think will happen to them? Not even the Queen could save her whore of a daughter and her bastard grandson.”

Aemond’s rage erupted. He seized Floris by the throat and slammed her against the wall, his grip vice-like. “You dare threaten my wife and son?”

Floris’s eyes widened in shock. “Wife?” she managed to croak out, her voice strained.

“Yes,” Aemond said, his eyes burning with intensity. “Viserra is my wife in the ways of old Valyria.”

Floris laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “And yet my point still stands. You either agree to marry me or I will tell my father everything.”

“Why would you want to marry a man who’s heart belongs to another” snarled Aemond.

“I’m not interested in your heart-” muttered Floris her gaze shamelessly moving over Aemond’s form.

“I wouldn’t touch you, not even for all the gold in the Iron Bank” said Aemond.

“If you want me to keep my mouth shut you will” replied Floris.

"I'm not interested and I never will be, why would you bind yourself to me-"

"You are a Prince, by our marriage I would be a Princess-" said Floris.

"Seven give me strength-this isn't some dreamy fantasy straight from the pages of a novel, where you think that if we get married then I'll some how fall in love with you and everything will all be sunshine and rainbows" snapped Aemond.

"That's not-"

"-Of course it is. Get it through your head. I don't want you and I never will. I don't know how many more times I have to say it before you listen" retorted Aemond.

"I-I w-will-t-tell" stammered Floris.

Aemond’s expression twisted into a dark smile as he leaned in close, his cheek brushing against hers.

“If you breathe a word of my involvement with Viserra to anyone-” he whispered, his voice a deadly promise, “-I will kill you and I will have Vhagar burn Storms End to the ground,”

Floris shivered under his threat, her eyes wide with fear and realization. She nodded quickly, her bravado faltering under the weight of his ominous vow.

Aemond released her, stepping back and letting her stumble away from him. “Leave,” he commanded coldly. “And remember what I’ve said.”

Floris, her composure shattered, turned and fled the room, leaving Aemond alone with the echoes of his promise and the grim determination to protect his family at any cost.

The next morning, Aemond found himself pacing in the shadows of a secluded corridor in the Red Keep, waiting for the one man he could confide in.

Daemon eventually strode into view, his usual swagger tempered with a slight tilt of curiosity.

"Out with it, nephew. You didn’t ask me to meet you here for pleasantries."

Aemond took a deep breath before he began. "Floris knows about Viserra and me. She knows Rhaegar is my son and she tried to blackmail me into marrying her in exchange for her silence."

Daemon’s eyes darkened slightly, his hand twitching toward the hilt of Dark Sister. "Go on."

"I refused and I did threaten her. But I don’t trust her to keep her silence. If Floris tells her father-" Aemond’s voice wavered, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Daemon was silent for a moment, thinking, his expression hard and unreadable. "-We can’t risk that," he said, his tone decisive. "I will not have Viserra’s name tarnished, or Rhaegar being declared illegitimate. And I won’t stand by and watch my daughter suffer any longer."

Aemond’s eye flashed with surprise at Daemon’s words. It was rare for his uncle to speak so openly about his affections.

"I regret ever letting her marry Borros," Daemon continued, a note of bitterness in his voice. "I knew she didn’t want it. I knew she loved you, not him. I allowed it for the sake of alliances, but no more. I want my daughter to be happy, and that won’t happen as long as she’s shackled to that fat oaf." He paused, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps it’s time Viserra’s marriage to Borros Baratheon comes to an end."

Aemond frowned, his gaze sharp as he considered the implications. "I thought there was no way to annul the marriage."

Daemon let out a low chuckle, his eyes gleaming. "Annulled? Perhaps not. But there are other ways to rid oneself of an unwanted spouse."

The meaning behind Daemon’s words sank in quickly. Aemond’s lips parted in realization. "You’re not suggesting—"

Daemon held up a hand, silencing him. "I’m not going to soil my own hands with it. But rest assured, Borros won’t trouble Viserra for much longer." His voice was calm, almost casual, as though discussing the weather. "Leave it to me. I’ll handle it."

Aemond, though still conflicted, nodded slowly. "And what am I to do in the meantime?"

"Make sure you’re seen," Daemon replied smoothly. "Tend to your duties. Be where you’re supposed to be and let no one have reason to suspect anything unusual”.

Aemond hesitated, his concern for Viserra momentarily overtaking his thirst for vengeance. "Are you sure this is the only way?"

Daemon’s smile was all teeth, a glint of menace in his eyes. "I told you, nephew. I won’t watch my daughter waste away in misery any longer. Borros Baratheon has outlived his usefulness."

With that, Daemon turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him as he made his way down the corridor, leaving Aemond standing in quiet contemplation.

Aemond clenched his jaw. For the first time, he felt both hope and unease twisting in his gut. Borros’ days were numbered.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

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syndrossi · 12 days ago

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Restoration AU: Ned I

Previous part, Bran I, here.

NED 1

Ned was embroiled in discussions with Vayon regarding the additional food stores that would need to be procured to feast the king’s party in accordance with his expectations—and Robert’s expectations certainly tended toward the lavish—when Jory burst into his solar, looking so rattled that Ned rose in alarm, convinced that something had happened to one of the children.

“My lord,” he said. “There are—that is, your son, Bran—”

Before Ned could fear the worst, he caught motion beyond the door frame, and his gaze fell upon the auburn hair of his second-youngest as he poked his head in the door. Robb and Jon had also accompanied Jory, trailing just behind, and they looked as perturbed as his captain of the guard. Robb’s mouth was a hard, harsh line that recalled Cat when she was in full fury, and Jon looked as pale as the direwolf pup he’d named Ghost.

His nerves settled on mild apprehension. “What is it, Jory?”

Jory cast a hesitant look at Vayon. “It is a matter that my lord may wish to discuss in private.”

Ned frowned. Jory and Vayon had known one another for several years now. Enough for his captain and steward to know that he held both of them in high esteem. He was unsure what it meant that Jory should be wary of the man now, but it could be nothing good.

“We can finish attending to the feast preparations later, Vayon,” Ned said. “It seems my sons have found themselves a spot of mischief.”

Robb’s eyes narrowed, further mystifying Ned. His steward inclined his head, then took his leave, and the children crowded into his solar. But rather than just the three he had expected, two more entered behind Robb and Jon, furs wrapped around either of them, and Jory’s own cloak atop that.

Ned’s mouth, which had opened to demand answers of his captain and his son, snapped shut as his gaze fell upon the two strange children, his wits abandoning him for several blank seconds. One, with hair but a shade or two lighter than his own, returned his stare with a wariness that wavered as it went on, taking on the faint sheen of tears. His face was as familiar as his own, as alike to Jon’s as a brother’s would be.

It cannot be.

It was the other child’s appearance, however, that lanced through his shock, turning it icy with dread. Rhaegar Targaryen was fourteen years dead, but Ned had known the prince’s face well, for it had haunted more than a few nightmares since, he and Lyanna both. This child could be the prince’s son—a comparison driven home as Ned glanced from one to the other, finding as many similarities between them as they shared with Jon.

Brothers. They must be, of nearly identical height and build. Twins, perhaps, except that one could be his son, while the other—

How? The children looked to be of an age with his daughters, meaning Rhaegar would have been four or five years dead by the time they were born. Ned himself had seen the mangled skull of his infant son, Aegon, and had the boy lived, he would have been Jon’s age.

And yet that is what they look like. Rhaegar’s sons, four years too young. The son whose death Robert celebrated, and the son whose death he would seek, if he only knew.

As he studied the dark-haired child more closely, subtle differences presented themselves between him and Jon. His eyes were a lighter grey that took on a tinge of purple the longer Ned stared into them, recalling the terror of the first few months of Jon’s life, before his own had darkened to a deep grey. His hair was a shade lighter, its dark brown slightly warmer.

And yet none of that mattered. The Valyrian coloring that House Targaryen had been known for was not uncommon in the Free Cities, but anyone who had ever seen the mad king or his wife and son would recognize their blood in these children. The other child’s coloring would all but invite such comparisons, and there was no greater danger. They could easily be siblings, the three of them.

It cannot be Aerys, nor can it be Rhaegar. Could Rhaella have lived after all to follow her children into hiding? Her remains had been cremated in accordance with Targaryen tradition by the time Dragonstone had been taken. Died in childbed, they had been told. Any whispers of the exiled queen’s survival surely would have made it to their shores.

Yet it was the only possible explanation. Any child of Rhaella’s would look like her slain son. But why would they be here? Why now, as Robert openly travels to Winterfell?

“We found them on the outskirts of the wolfswood, half frozen,” Jory said, breaking the tense silence. “Young Bran spotted them.”

The children were both shivering, Ned realized at last. He managed a smile at his youngest. “Bran, lad, go see if Gage has any soup on—something hot for our guests.”

Disappointment flashed across his son’s face, his curiosity readily apparent, but he cast the two boys a sympathetic look and swallowed his protest. “Yes, Father. I shall bring it myself!”

Once he had gone, Ned turned back to the children. “I am Lord Stark,” he said, keeping his voice low and gentle. “And you are in Castle Winterfell. Who might you be?”

“Is it not plain, Father?” Robb snapped, tensed as though for a fight. “There is no need to make a farce of it, now that you’ve sent Bran away.”

Ned sucked in a breath, feeling a fool as comprehension struck. Jory’s obvious discomfort, Robb’s fury, Jon’s quiet shock—

They think that I…?

Ned stared into his son’s eyes, finding shock and betrayal beneath the anger. A mirthless chuckle rose in his chest and he forced it down. Why should they not, after all? He had soiled his honor once in claiming Jon as his son. The appearance of two children on the outskirts of Winterfell who looked to be his bastard son’s younger brothers offered one obvious explanation.

Denial followed his stalled laughter, smothered just as quickly in the wake of another realization. Deny their relation, and Jon’s apparent kinship to two children of Targaryen features would invite all the questions Ned had feared in the first few years of his son’s life. Why would a boy with no relation to House Targaryen look like one of their long-dead scions?

Suspicious minds would turn to his sister and the man who had kidnapped her. The timing of Jon’s appearance, the fact that Ned had been the one to find her in the Tower of Joy, it would all point to a deadly truth—a treason that Robert would never forgive.

Unless there was another explanation. One that Jory and both of his sons had clearly seized upon, one that would all but guarantee Jon’s safety.

If they were my own bastard sons, Jon’s brothers…

Then there was no possible relation between Jon and Rhaegar Targaryen. How could there be? His brothers would have been born years after the prince’s death, their mother some woman from Lys, perhaps, with the silver-blond hair and purple eyes of Valyria that were so prized in that city. No one would look for House Targaryen in them, if House Stark offered an excuse for their shared resemblance.

To protect Jon, his only option might be to stain his honor beyond recognition. To flaunt these children, as though he had nothing to hide.

“Leave us,” Ned said. “I would speak to these children alone.”

Robb’s face reddened, his son’s outrage whipped to a frenzy. “I will not—”

“That is your lord’s command,” Ned said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. “Go. I will speak to you later.”

His son’s fists clenched, the hurt swimming beneath his anger plain, but he gave a stiff nod. “Come, Snow,” he said to his brother.

Stark, Snow. Names that his sons had taken to calling one another in the past year as they neared manhood, the growing understanding of their differing circumstances wedging itself between them. The names were not spoken unkindly, but Ned caught the barest flinch on Jon’s face this time.

Jory was the last to leave, pausing by the door. “We returned through the Hunter’s Gate, my lord, but we ran across Theon on our way to the keep.”

Ned nodded tersely in understanding. His ward was loud of mouth and held no fondness for Jon. If he too had concluded that the boys were Jon’s bastard brothers, then word would spread quickly through Winterfell. It would reach Cat soon enough, if Robb had not gone to tell her himself, and Ned’s heart clenched. As keen as Robb’s pain and betrayal had been, his wife’s suffering would be far worse.

But the children in the room with him now were a more immediate concern. Ned approached them slowly, testing their reaction. Jon’s young twin had lost none of his earlier wariness, though he did not appear to be frightened of him. And the other child regarded him with a quiet curiosity that was entirely Jon’s.

They are so like him.

“I am Lord Eddard Stark,” he said again. “What are your names?”

“I am Jon,” said the dark-haired one, and it was all Ned could do not to react. “And this is my twin brother, Raymar.”

Jon and Raymar. Vale names, both, which was no less puzzling than anything else about them. Ned doubted that Rhaella Targaryen had been hiding herself or her sons in the Vale, which had practically served as the heart of the rebellion against her family’s rule.

“We thank you for your house’s kindness, Lord Stark,” Raymar said with a bow of his head.

Neither seemed uncomfortable in the presence of a lord, let alone the Warden of the North. Their composure spoke to an upbringing a highborn child would have.

“And to which house do you belong?” Ned asked, curious if they would answer plainly.

Young Jon shifted slightly to put himself between his brother and Ned, and the twins exchanged an uneasy look that as good as answered his question.

“I would know your true names,” Ned said, keeping his voice gentle. “No harm will come to you.”

Even the way this Jon bit at the inside of his lip was so reminiscent of his own Jon that Ned felt freshly unnerved. “I am Baelon,” he said finally. “And he is Aemon.”

It took him a moment to place the names. Sons of Jaehaerys I. Perhaps Rhaella had wanted to cling to a time in her family’s history when they had been at the height of their power, though these names in particular bore an ill omen. Two heirs to the Iron Throne, both of whom had died before they could claim it—not unlike her firstborn.

Good men, though. That had been their legacy, the princes who should have ruled, rather than the king whose reign had ultimately led to the Targaryens turning on one another, dooming their dragons.

“Why have you come here?”

That was the question upon which everything hinged. Were they a message to Ned? A threat? Had Rhaella learned of her grandson’s fate? But he could not imagine what madness could have taken her to send two young children here to deliver such a message, especially when it could so easily be interpreted as a threat.

“We did not come here by choice, my lord,” Aemon said. “We were taken from our father.”

Ned had been so focused upon their Targaryen heritage that he had not even considered who their father might be. “What is your father’s name?”

The children exchanged another glance, and it was Baelon who spoke. “Daemon.”

Ned could not hide his reaction this time. With Maelys the Monstrous’s death, the Blackfyre line had been thought to be ended at last. The male line, at least. Could there have been a descendent willing to tie himself to the exiled House Targaryen? The benefit for Rhaella Targaryen was plain: the Golden Company was said to be ten-thousand strong and of impeccable discipline—the closest to an army one could hope to hire, as sellswords went.

Rhaella Targaryen gives them the legitimacy they desire, and they offer her the start of an army. And yet—could such an alliance have been formed without whispers eventually reaching Robert’s ears?

And if someone had kidnapped her two sons, the joining of House Blackfyre and Targaryen, then that spoke to yet another plot. Someone who opposed their ambitions?

Someone who also knew, or had guessed, the true circumstances of Jon’s birth?

I am as much a pawn in this game as these children are, Ned thought grimly. As Jon now was.

“What can you tell me about your captors?” he asked.

“We were bound and blinded at first,” Aemon said. “And later made to drink a concoction that ushered us to sleep.”

Dreamwine, mostly like. Or even milk of the poppy. “You remember nothing at all?”

The child shook his head, distress creeping into his voice. “We were with our father and then we were here, alone in the cold and snow.”

“And your mother?” Ned asked, because he had to be sure.

Sorrow settled over them, keenest in Aemon, whose brother answered for them. “Dead.”

Ned watched them carefully. “Rhaella?”

Aemon’s gaze snapped to his, widening in surprise before the child could compose himself. His brother squeezed his hand and gave a silent nod.

Dead. That both simplified and complicated matters, though Ned was not certain precisely how. It made their kidnapping all the more mysterious in its purpose. A power struggle between the queen’s surviving children, perhaps? If her eldest, Viserys, feared that the Golden Company would support their claim over his, due to whatever Blackfyre blood might flow in their veins, then sending them away might have been his answer.

Sending them here could yet be a threat against Jon, or simple coincidence.

A rap at the door startled all three of them, and Ned gestured at them to remain still as he answered it. It was Jory once more, bearing a tray of stew and bread. Apparently Bran had insisted on bringing it himself, but the captain had intercepted the heavy load, judging it best that he take it up instead. Ned nodded his thanks, and brought the tray back into his solar.

“Here,” Ned said, setting it down on the table and beckoning the children over. “You must be hungry.”

Baelon broke off a piece of the bread, handing it to his brother first, then taking a bite of his own. He seemed to relax then. They have been raised to know our customs, at least, Ned thought. Though it pained him that the child had feared they might have been harmed.

Stolen away from their family and abandoned in the snow-covered fields outside the wolfswood, in the heart of a kingdom loyal to the man who had killed their kin, and would gladly see their house erased, down to the last child. That they had remained this composed in his presence was a sign of either great bravery or misunderstanding of the danger they were in.

And given how wary Baelon had been since their arrival, Ned suspected they both knew precisely how much danger they were in—to the point of fabricating names for themselves.

The stew put some color in their cheeks, and the fire had warmed them enough that they were no longer shivering. Ned, who had taken a seat opposite them, fought the urge to sag back against his chair as the throbbing pressure of a headache formed at his temples.

“You seem to understand that you cannot be Baelon and Aemon here,” Ned said once they’d finished their stew and sopped up the remnants with the last of the bread. Both children nodded. “I can protect you until I have found a way to return you home, but until then, I shall require your cooperation.”

They looked to one another once more, but seemed in agreement. “What do you require of us?” Aemon asked.

“You are Raymar,” Ned said. He glanced at Baelon, unnerved yet again at how like his son he looked as he studied Ned back. “You cannot be Jon, as I already have a son named Jon.”

The children blinked in twin surprise, seeming to immediately grasp his intention. “Willam,” Baelon said. “I can be Willam, my lord.”

Another name favored in the Vale, though not uncommon elsewhere. “That is acceptable,” Ned said. Then he took a deep breath. “And you must call me Father.”

x~x~x

Okay but my favorite thing is that Ned giving two more of his bastards Vale names is so very recognizably him, even though he didn't suggest either name to them!

Which POV to write next? Decisions, decisions...

#resonant 'verse restoration au #ned embracing the chaos because what other choice does he have #sometimes the best defense is a good offense #and what an offense...

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aelenavelaryon · 7 months ago

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THE GREENS NIGHTMARE

IN WHICH AERA TARGARYEN IN THE KARMA OF TEAM GREEN

Daemon Targaryen x Aera Targaryen

Aera Targaryen was a woman to fear. She was Visenya and Maegor come again. When the war between Rhaenyra and Aegon began, the realm divided into two. The Blacks for Rhaenyra and the Greens for Aegon. Aera Targaryen was a distant relative yet she had been close to Rhaenyra growing up. Once, long ago Aera had been Daemon'a love and once the love of his life. Some would even argue that she was still the love of his life, even when the two were still married.

Aera Targaryen gave Daemon Targaryen four children in their first few years of marriage. Maegor, Baelon, Aemon, and Rhaegar Targaryen. Otto Hightower deemed them bastards because Aera was daughter of Saera Targaryen and Maegor Targaryen, son of Maegor and Rhaena Targaryen. Aera didn't want to return to King's Landing where she was not welcomed. Viserys always allowed Otto to fill his head with lies about her and what she was capable of. Daemon, whilst being married to Rhaenyra, which was a favor that Area had granted her. Daemon did not see her as more than another family member. Daemon and Aera still had their own late night adventures when she would come visit, seeing as she spent most of her time in Pentos with her mother's family.

But, from time to time she visited Rhaenyra and Daemon in Dragonstone. Daemon's sons were men grown. Some in their twenties. Not married but with bastard children of their own. Daemon and Aera shared three other children together who were born over the years. He had taken not only Aera as his wife but Rhaenyra too. Area who he had been married to since she was ten and five and he twenty and five. Daemon Targaryen loved his wife, despite what many believed. Aera much to anyone's dismay was a free spirit, bringing not only men into her bed but women too. Alexander Rivers was a bastard son she had with Harwin Strong alongside him, his twin, Alys Rivers who many believed was the daughter of Lyonel but everyone at court knew who were the parents. Alys Rivers would be a important peace for Rhaenyra during the dance.

The Hightowers thought them gone, thinking they would never step a foot in Westeros. But, as soon as Rhaenyra sent a raven to inform her cousin of the news, Aera flew on dragon back to support her girl. The news of Lucerys' death reached her before she made it to Dragonstone, and soon after, the news of Aegon's celebration for his death reached her as well and that was truly what started the fire.

Instead of keeping route to Dragonstone like she promised, Aera flew to Old Town and set the Hightower's home ablaze for Lucerys's death and celebration of his death. She then, rode to King's Landing where the usurper thought he was coming to bend the knee. Otto nor his spies knew she knew, until from the skies she dropped the heads of every Hightower she killed, Gwayne Hightower being one of the dead. It was said that Alicent Hightower cried, screams were heard all over the Keep as the doweger queen wept over her dead family. They knew then that Aera Targaryen was the blood of the dragon. She was coming for Rhaenyra*s stolen throne.

'she loves Rhaenyra. Did you truly think she was coming to bend the knew?' Alicent asked Aegon. Otto sat in silence saying nothing. Daeron Targaryen had return to King's Landing the same day he received the letter of his father's death. Daeron was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He knew, Aera was the real threat, not Rhaenyra, not Daemon but Aera Targaryen was a wild dragon. He knew she was not scared to be known as a kinslayer, specially when it came to him and his siblings. But, he didn't know how far she was willing to go.

Her arrival at Dragonstone was expected, her children had arrived the day before expecting to see their mother back with their father. Aera Targaryen arrived and everyone gathered out to greet her. She was covered in blood, they thought she had been attack or something of that mattered. "Mother!" her eldest son ran to her. "I am fine" she told. "I did something bad" she began. Rhaenyra cared very little for what she had to say at that moment. They retuned back inside the castle, everyone who sided with Rhaenyra was there, well, most of them.

"I burned those Hightower's to the ground" she said loud enough for everyone to hear. The room went quiet right after that. The war had just begun. Which side will prevail?

#daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #Rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #house targaryen #team black #rhaenys targaryen #baela targaryen #corlys velaryon #rhaena targaryen #daemon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #harwin strong x reader #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #alicent hightower x reader

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daenerystargaryen06 · 11 months ago

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"How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly..." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

"I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb." -A Storm of Swords -Jon XII

Daenerys wanting Daario to carry her off at sword point, and Jon thinking of stealing Val for her love. Two parallels of one girl wanting to be stolen, and one boy wanting to steal someone. Both for love.

"None of them had ever seen a direwolf before, he realized, and Ghost was twice as large as the common wolves that prowled their southron greenwoods. As he walked toward the armory, Jon chanced to look up and saw Val standing in her tower window. I'm sorry, he thought. I'm not the man to steal you out of there." -A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

"Even if her captain was mad enough to attempt it, the Brazen Beasts would cut him down before he got within a hundred yards of her." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

Jon is sorry he can't steal away Val, and Daenerys reflects on the fact that even if Daario did attempt to carry her off at sword point, he'd be cut down.

Both Jon and Daenerys have a sense of romanticism in their POV's. Both are hopeless romantics (perhaps Daenerys more so than Jon in a sense). Both want love, despite denying it deep down. Jon because he's a man of the Night's Watch and a bastard. Daenerys because she is a Queen over her people and accepts duty over giving in to "girlish" thoughts.

Both had found love within confinement. Jon having fallen for Ygritte while pretending to be on the Freefolk's side. Daenerys having found a twisted love in Drogo after being sold to him as a bridal slave. Both were coerced into sexual relations with Ygritte and Drogo. Both had to watch Ygritte and Drogo die (and Dany killed Drogo out of mercy).

"He found Ygritte sprawled across a patch of old snow beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, with an arrow between her breasts. The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask [...] "Oh." Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she sighed, dying. -A Storm of Swords - Jon VII

"And when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.” Never, the darkness cried, never never never. Inside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream. She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

Both Jon and Daenerys have also found interest again after the deaths of Ygritte and Drogo. Jon wants Val, and Daenerys sleeps with Daario and may perhaps love him, but doubts over her relations with Daario. Both focus on their duties over giving in to what they really want. Daenerys even marries again for peace over giving in to what she really wants.

Both Jon and Daenerys think of having children, but push away the ideal. Jon due to being a member of the Night's Watch and a bastard. Daenerys due to thinking she is barren/cursed by Mirri Maz Duur and can never again have a child born from her.

Jon reflects that if he ever had a son, he'd name him Robb after his brother. Daenerys when pregnant with Drogo's child names her son Rhaego after her brother.

Jon is the secret son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Lyanna is associated with blue winter roses:

"He was walking through the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he had walked a thousand times before. The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood." -A Game of Thrones - Eddard XIII

"Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost." -A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

When Daenerys has visions in the House of the Undying, she sees the Wall:

"A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . ." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

Jon is the 'blue flower' she sees growing from the wall of ice, filling the air with 'sweetness'. Jon is Lyanna's son. Both carry blue flower representation.

Jon also wants to know everything there is about his mother; who she was, if she loved him, what sort of person she was. Just alike to how Daenerys wants to learn and know everything she can about Rhaegar, as she also idolizes him in a sense. Both have thoughts about these people. Jon constantly thinks about his mother (Lyanna even if he does not know yet who she is); Daenerys often thinks of Rhaegar (despite never knowing him). Both think of these people despite them already being gone from the world, and both only wish they could have known who they truly were as people and can only guess how Lyanna and Rhaegar would've thought or acted.

Jon thinks of having dragons at the Wall:

"We should have twenty trebuchets, not two, and they should be mounted on sledges and turntables so we could move them. It was a futile thought. He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three." -A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

When Jon dies, Daenerys hears a wolf howling in the distance:

"Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

Both have an association/thought relating to one another's animal sigil/companion. Jon thinks of wishing for three dragons (Daenerys' house sigil and her dragon children). Daenerys hears a wolf howling when Jon dies, making her feel sad and lonely (Jon's house sigil through Lyanna/Ned and his direwolf Ghost).

Both Jon and Daenerys dream of home. Daenerys with the house with the red door and the lemon tree. Jon with Winterfell.

Both are estranged from their families (Jon being at the Wall. Daenerys being in Essos and the last of her family having died).

Both have lost their brothers in different means. Both have had their mothers die from childbirth and never got to meet them. Both of their fathers (Rhaegar and Aerys) died during the Rebellion.

Both had arcs of leadership and rule, and struggle with their decisions and making hard choices. Jon winds up killed due to his choices at the end of ADWD, and Daenerys becomes stranded in the Dothraki Sea due to her choice of saving Drogon (and her people from Drogon) from the fighting pit and escaping on dragonback.

While Daenerys thinks of taking the IT as a duty due to being the last of her family and Viserys' last living heir, Jon admits to wanting to become Lord of Winterfell but turning the opportunity away.

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coeursye · 1 year ago

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The strange union of Lucerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen resulted in the birth of a brood of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.

You can read the fic about them on ao3

Meet them down below ⬇️

Aemion is the dependable, friendly and oblivious eldest child of Lucerys and Aemond. He deeply loves all of his siblings and has a tendency to acts as if he was their mother. Aemion is sweet, always cheerful and rather charming.

Contrary to his eldest twin, Aeryn is shy and melancholic, he seems to always be in the clouds and likes to isolate himself. He’s pretty reserved unless he’s with Aemion, who he adores perhaps just a little bit too much.

Valaena is a rather calm and collected young girl although she is quite cold, judgemental and sardonic. She is fiercely protective of Lucerys and will not tolerate any kind of disrespect toward him. There’s no one who could be more proud to be a Targaryen than Valaena.

Unlike her sisters, Calyx is not known for being a great beauty but rather for her remarkable intelligence and prowess in archery. Adventurous, she loves to explore news horizons with her dragon. She has little regard for her youngest twin, Baelon, and mostly ignores him.

Prideful, fearful, arrogant and short-tempered, his personality doesn’t make Baelon particularly popular among his siblings. Despite his overall unpleasant demeanor, Baelon’s intelligence is undeniable and extremely praised, though it seems to only add to his already inflated ego.

Maegelle is sweet, at least that’s what she wants everyone to think. She is delighted whenever she gets to tease her older brother Baelon and more often than not gets into arguments with him. Maegelle enjoys singing the songs she wrote as Baelon and Valaena play the lute and the harp for her. She admires and is way more than fond of Valaena but unfortunately for her, it doesn’t seems to be reciprocal.

Saelyna is the eldest triplet of Osferth and Rhaegar. She is quite rubbish, clumsy and overall a very funny little girl but she’s unfortunately not the smartest. For there is absolutely nothing going on inside her head.

Calm and docile, Osferth is a sweet kid with a sweet tooth. While he doesn’t have a dragon himself, he loves takings care of the dragons of his siblings. He is very fond of his sickly little brother Maelor and often sneak in his chambers to take care of him and keep him company.

(Will add the portrait later)

Rhaegar was the youngest triplet of Saelyna and Osferth. He was the only child who looked exactly like Lucerys. The babe unfortunately passed away before his first moon, which deeply devastated Aemond and Luke.

Lucerys and Aemond were blessed with Maelor a few years after the loss of their babe, Rhaegar, and after multiple miscarriages. Sadly, he was born weak, tiny and very sickly with dragon scales on different part of his body. Rarely allowed to go outside, he spend most of his time alone in his chambers with his little dragon, Pythios.

Gael is a little girl who despite her very young age is quite energetic. She likes to run around and cause mischief.

And that’s it, for now. I hope you guys will enjoy all the pics, fics and lores about them that I’ll post in the future!!

#aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #lucerys x aemond #lucemond #my ocs #coeursye’s shit #abo #I will come back to this later and update some portraits as they’re quite old and ugly #fanart #hotd #house of the dragon #house velaryon #house Targaryen #asoiaf #got #artists on tumblr

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pixiecactus · 21 days ago

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these are just my thoughts, so you know, nothing to take seriously... but i discovered that it really irks me when people say that lyanna's "romantic" decisions are purely sansa.

and yeah, sure, sansa is an idealist that loves romantic stories, but here comes my hot take. i do see sansa more as being one of those people that are enchanted and obsessed with the concept of love, rather than loving someone herself... and if we look at her part in the narrative looking for romance, it's lacking for sure, other than the stuff going on with the hound (which is clearly somewhat romantic... no, i don't ship it, but i can see what the author was doing, like c'mon this is the man that has a sansan poster hanging in his walls) there's nothing else or no one else that has a little bit of romantic focus. everyone knows what happened with joffrey, littlefinger is grooming her (do i have to explain that this isn't romantic at all?), and i'm one of those people who thinks that harry the heir is her best option, considering what sansa likes, and that is a pretty and chivalrous man of noble birth... i get that people have a problem with him because he looks at her as someone lesser than him, because she's hiding as a bastard, but then again, for me, it's just an example of how much alike sansa and harry are.

maybe i'm just frustrated with the lack of development that sansa has in all five books, but i would like her to be able to discover herself, what she actually likes with a realist focus rather than an idealist one, from a partner. she should know by now that everyone can hurt you no matter how beautiful they are or what position of power they hold in society... and that maybe will take some time... so i like the idea of sansa going through life without a romantic partner with the hope she's able to get some retrospection on herself and her actions.

do i think this is going to happen? not at all, i'm pretty sure that littlefinger will get his way at first and that he will get sansa married to harry... which will make her a bigamist since she's still married to tyrion. so that will make another problem for her to tackle alongside being disinherited in robb's will...

another thing i think it's pretty common when people say that sansa is the one that heredited lyanna's "romantic" side is that these same types of people try to erase completely all the romantic tropes and foreshadowing that arya's story has... because... how can a girl who is gender non-conforming get a romantic plot?

honestly, i don't know why she couldn't get one... but i think that means you have a little problem to check out if you actually think that girls or women that are gender non-conforming deserve less than their gender conforming peers and that the lastest are superior in any way, shape, or form.

what we can't deny is that the author set up a deep connection between arya and the possible son of rhaegar targaryen and lyanna stark, for arya, jon is the only person in the world who will love her no matter what.

what is a little more funny coming from the author is that he made us observe arya stark and the son of robert baratheon get close and become friends that got a little crush on each other before they fell out and became separated.

so the author set up arya stark as the character who has not only love coming from rhaegar targaryen's son but devotion coming from robert baratheon's son as well.

i do think that what people don't want to even consider is that arya stark is a passionate character; she will defend those she loves from all threats possible, fighting tooth and nail.

and lyanna was the very same (and that's why i fully believe that lyanna and rhaegar were in love with each other... lyanna was intelligent, just as arya is, and arya had no problem recognizing that joffrey baratheon was a pretty prince, but at the same time she could appreciate that he was a horrible person with ease, his beauty and his titles be dammed, but i digress)

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #house stark #lyanna stark #arya stark #sansa stark #gendrya #jonrya #anti sansa stans #anti asoiaf fandom

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queen-helaenas-pet-spider · 8 months ago

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Satin Flowers Theories That Spark Joy:

1. He is a highborn!!!!

DEFINITELY POSSIBLE!!!!!! Satin having skills that mainly a highborn would have {reading, writing, etc}, him being bad at keeping fires in Jon's fireplace going {which is something a servant would do, and not a highborn}, etc.

2. He is the real Prince Aegon Targaryen {son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Elia Martell *who was "killed" when Tywin Lannister and his army sacked King's Landing*} and not Young Griff!!!!

A little out there, I know, but it's a fun theory!!!!!!!! If Satin is Rhaegar and Elia's Aegon, and Jon is Rhaegar and Lyanna's Aegon {or whatever Jon's real name might be, I really hope it's not Aegon}, then that means Jon Snow has been one - sidedly trying to court his half brother for 3 books {knowing the Valyrian's, that's not a bad thing, but they're both men, and one or both of them might not be into it}.

And if they're both Rhaegar's sons, them and Daenerys {Rhaegar's little sister} completes yet another 3 headed dragon {Dany as Aegon The Conqueror, Satin/Potential Aegon #? as Rhaenys, and Jon/Potential Aegon #? as Visenya. Walk with me. W A L K W I T H M E ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! }

More cons: 1. Satin being Rhaegar and Elia's Aegon would mean that another heir to the Iron Throne has thrown his life away to serve at a place that will kill you if you try to quit. And 2. As far as we know, Jon and their friends are the only support he has, and that wouldn't be enough to help him reclaim the throne {that Daenerys is also fighting for}.

3. He is one of Robert Baratheon's bastards!!!

Robert {a Baratheon man with Targaryen blood} was in love with a Stark man {Ned Stark, and not Ned's sister Lyanna *who went to war for, but couldn't even remember what she looked like*} and now Jon {A Stark man with Targaryen blood} in love with another potential Baratheon man with Targaryen blood?!?!?!?! {They'd still be related, but not as close as they'd be if he was Rhaegar and Elia's Aegon!!!!!!!!}

---

Satin Flowers Theories That DO NOT Spark Joy:

1. He is one of Littlefinger's MANY spies!!!!

WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT?!?!?! I mean, if it somehow ties into Littlefinger's whole climb up the Ladder plan, sure. But other than that, he would just wasting his time, money, and a very pretty boy that can make him even richer.

2. HE IS ONE OF JON SNOW'S KILLERS!!!!

No matter Satin's possible station in the world, he literally has NOTHING to gain from killing Jon!!!! Jon comforted him when he was scared, stayed by his side while fighting, elevated his status {which includes living with Jon in his chambers instead of barracks full of men that hate him}, verbally tore apart all who talked shit about him, etc!!!!

The only thing Satin gains from killing one of his very few supporters, would be getting hurt and killed by enemies. Saying that Satin Flowers is one of the men that killed Jon Snow is about as believable as Sansa Stark causing the Doom Of Valyria {which happened centuries before she was born, but knowing Sansa antis, I'm sure they've found a way to blame her for that, too 🙄🙄💀💀}.

---

Or, Satin Flowers could be just as GRRM introduced him as: A former sex worker turned into a man of the Night’s Watch, nothing more, nothing less. But I have a feeling that GRRM has plans for Satin, and I PRAY those don't include hurting or killing him right after the mutiny, or him being a traitor. Either of those would kill Jon....again....💀💀💔💔

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rise-my-angel · 6 months ago

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Some stans actually believe that once Jon learns of his true parentage he will be happy. Jon literally just wants to be acknowledged as a Stark, he wants nothing with that shitty prince or his fire loving family. He might get some closure knowing about Lyanna but Ned Stark will always be his daddy.

I was thinking about this, and really, it doesn't change much of Jon's understanding of Ned. He knows his father isn't telling him the truth, or at least by not saying a word to him about his mother, he is keeping information from him on purpose. He knows Ned was hiding something about his birth, because Jon spent his entire life wondering what couldve happened between his mother and his father to cause him to shut down about it, even to him, even to Catelyn.

Jon already is aware that Ned is hiding something. He just does not know the degree of the secret.

But also, I am sick of people dismissing Neds role in his life. Ned is not Jon's uncle. Sure by blood he is, but Jon was raised thinking that he is his father. He was treated just like a father treats his son, he was loved and given the same education that Robb got, he was raised in the family home getting to grow up with his brothers and sisters.

Jon didn't suddenly lose all those days or evenings he wouldve gotten to spend with his father alone. Didn't suddenly lose all of the times they acted just like a loving father and son with no hangups. He didn't suddenly lose the fact that to Ned Stark, Jon is not his nephew, he is his son.

Jon does not suddenly lose that Ned never even gave him a reason to feel like he wasn't a good enough son. He interacted with his father his whole life in a way that made him feel loved to the point that even now that hes dead, Jon routinely feels frustration that multiple older men in his life have tried to place themselves into the position of a father figure to Jon.

He was given a personalized version of the Mormonts ancestral sword, that was once belonging to Jeors son. Jon's honoured but he is not lost on the implication that Jeor looks at Jon like a pseudo son and it bothers Jon even then. Men can give Jon a thousand swords but it will never change that his father alone is Ned Stark. And keep in mind, this occurs during the period of time early at Castle Black where Jon is resentful and thinks Ned let him come here because this life was all he deserved. And he STILL refused to let someone sway him into seeing a man as a father figure other then Ned Stark.

Jon through all the insecurities and anger, loves Ned Stark as much as a son possibly could. More then once Jon thinks in situations that could lead to his death, about Ned. He always circles back to what would his father think or do. Jon dictates his independent, adult life based around learning to be the honourable man his father wanted him to be and does so without resentment.

My negative opinions of Rhaegar aside, Jon has no attachment to the thought of him as any kind of man. He grew up his whole life knowing the story that Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark. He grew up likely hearing the rumours that she was raped. He knew that kidnapping led to her dying tragically at the age of 16 in a way that clearly traumatized his father.

Jon has never been missing a father figure. He has always been missing his mother. Not missing a mother figure, only his mother. The only person he cares to learn about is her because shes the one person in Jon's blood he has never truly known. Then he learns hes heard about his mother his whole life, and realizes the bloodshed caused both for his conception and that she died without having a chance to be with her son at all.

Learning the truth is about realizing WHY Ned did the things he did. Why telling him about his mother was both too painful and too risky. Jon can be angry he was lied too, but does not change that Jon is smart and will understand that Ned did it all to protect Jon.

Jon will realize Ned did not need to raise him as his own son, in his home and family and give him love, to keep him safe. Jon knows Ned did all of that because he loves him the way Ned loved Robb or Bran. Jon will ultimately realize he never actually lost the father he grew up with, because Ned always considered Jon to be his son.

Learning the truth for Jon is about Lyanna, it's about learning that his mother died with her last words begging Ned to protect him because she loved him. It's about Jon realizing he is an echo of the dark shadows of Lyannas final months of life and that he needs to stand up and fight because she couldn't. That he needs to protect the ones he loves the way he wishes he could go back in time and protect her.

It's about realizing hes always had a father, because to Ned, Jon was always his son through and through. And it's about Jon realizing that he needs to live and fight because without him, Lyannas memory will fade away forever and he will not allow that to happen to her again.

Whatever people want to say about how Jon will feel about learning his blood is partly Targaryean, they will always downplay Jon also coming to terms with himself as a Stark.

However Jon will feel about the Targaryean side, none of that will take away that Jon will realize how incredibly important his Stark side is and always was. Their speculations about how Jon will feel about a man hes barley thought about his whole life, should never overpower that the truth leads Jon to the thing that matters.

That Jon Snow has always been loved, and he's always been a Stark. Because he was the son his mother died begging to protect, and he was the son that Ned Stark chose.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow #ned stark #eddard stark #lyanna stark #anti targ stans #anti targaryen #anti targ restoration #anti rhaegar targaryen #anti rhaegar stans #anti rhaegar x lyanna #anti rhaelya #me having to add all these tags because rhaegar stans get so mad #when someone says jon probably wouldnt suddenly hate the man who loved and raised him his whole life

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omnipotent-scient · 8 months ago

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(BOOK ONLY) Since some stupid people have come into this fandom, everything you hear makes you think whether they are just stupid or pretending to be stupid.

"Alicent did everything for 20 years while Rhaenyra was vacationing on Dragonstone"

The princess of Dragonstone living in dragonstone!??? Oh the misery😱😮 Are you hearing yourself? Like be serious right now.

It is the seat of the heir, the Prince/Princess of DRAGONSTONE. Dragonstone is her seat, where she rules. Until she becomes Queen where the seat will pass on to her hair and the next after that. As Prince of Dragonstone Rhaegar along with his family lived on Dragonstone.

She ruled on Dragonstone. After being heir and cupbearer before her marriage for years. And no she wasn't simply sitting on her ass and having sex and fun and vacationing as some of you put it. She had duties to be done, holding courts, hosting guests and visitors. It wasn't just some small island with no island either, it was an overlord to, House Velaryon, House Celtigar, House Bar Emmon, and House Sunglass(what a name). And she had to host those who were guests coming to pay respects and hear their problems and what not. And none of these mean that she was simply gone from Kingslanding either, it takes an hour? on dragon back to get there. We do know she was there present in some ways, the rivalry between her sons and Alicent's, her and Maester Gerardys coming to heal Viserys.

"And in these 20 years, Aegon bettered himself to rule."

Girl where? We know nothing of him from ages 6-12?. Afterwards, all we know of this time is he was fondling maids, fucking servantmaids and whore, getting drunk and spending his time in the streets of silk and that he was having bastards even after being married to a princess and having children. They literally found him in a brothel with a whore, while bringing him news of his father's death.

#canon rhaenyra targaryen #canon asoiaf #canon alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon ii #canon aegon ii #Maester Gerardys #the dance of the dragons #the blacks vs the greens

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starogeorgina · 1 year ago

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Violent delights

Warnings: Violence, blood, swearing

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc

1.06

Thick clouds loomed over the keep, but the air was still warm with only the occasional breeze. You had been advised not to go outside alone with a storm brewing, but you weren’t afraid. The moment the first raindrop hit the ground, Jacaerys would be by your side, escorting you inside to the warmth. Smiling, you watch as your newborn's eyes slowly start to close over. You thought the fresh air would help him sleep, which is why you sat beneath the Red Keep's heart tree.

As a familiar flapping sound approaches, your hand raises to shield your son's eyes from any dirt that could be sent flying from the strength of Dreamfyre’s wings. The only person you looked forward to seeing during your brief return was the beautiful she-dragon rider, Helaena.

The crunch of branches catches your attention; you look ahead delighted and wave, “Grandmother!”

“Lyarra,” she frowns, marching towards you. “You only gave birth a few days ago; you should be recovering instead of traveling.”

You try not to sigh at her words; your grandmother, Rhaenys, was a very wise woman but was never one to hold her opinion back. Her gaze softens when she looks down at your newborn baby. She strokes his cheek. “May I?”

You hand him over to her, her eyes lightening up as she cradles him. “He’s perfect, my darling; he looks just like Jacaerys. Where is your husband, anyway? I’m surprised you’re out here on your own.”

Your own smile falters, guilt bubbling inside of you. Walking into your former home, which in time turned into a prison, one that you dreamed of escaping daily freely, didn’t feel right. So far, nothing major has happened, but you were waiting for it. Queen Alicent had it organized so you stayed in your old bedchambers, the same one you gave birth to Aemma and Rhaegar in and the same one you stayed in when Aegon would climb on top of you. The moment the doors closed behind you, the flashbacks started. Tears spill from your eyes merely thinking about returning to it.

“My dear girl, what is wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” You try to hold it together, but all the built-up emotions come pouring out at once.

Your grandmother's face is now serious. “What is wrong?”

“I’m just tired and emotional from giving birth,” you say. You didn’t want to confess that you couldn’t remove the cynical thoughts from your mind and were terrified that something bad was going to happen.

—

𝘜𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘒𝘦𝘱𝘢, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘵, 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘹. 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘵.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘮-𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘣 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯. 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘴 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.

“𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘢.”

𝘛𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

“𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴.” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴.

“𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦! 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘤��𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦.”

“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘹 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴; 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦.”

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴, 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦. “𝘔𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘳 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴.”

“𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯.”

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘴, “𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.”

—

When you returned from your walk the day prior, you were pleasantly surprised to find out Jace had moved you to another bedchamber, one that was large enough to have extra cots brought in so your children could all sleep in the same room as you. With a fairly decent night's rest without stress over your children being apart from you, you had woken up with a more positive attitude.

“Ser Erryk,” you greet the knight with a genuine smile; you’d never forgotten the kindness he’d shown you. “I hope you are well.”

“Thank you, Princess, and congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

You press a kiss to the cheek of your newborn son and continue walking onto the balcony that overlooks the garden. You had not long dismissed Clara, your personal lady-in-waiting, to go and rest, much to her discomfort. She had confessed to feeling uncomfortable within the keep herself and didn’t want to leave you unattended, but the balcony was low enough to the ground that you could still hear your family's voices below; if you needed them, you’d simply call out. Besides, Clara would need to watch the children for a few hours while your family argued for Lucerys to remain heir to Driftmark.

You look down to watch your husband play with your children, blissfully unaware that you yourself are being watched.

“Kepa!” A sweet voice says Aemma holds up a handful of yellow and white flowers for Jace to smell. “Kepa look!”

Aemma grins as Jace picks her up; she holds the brightly coloured flowers closer to his face. He sniffs, “It’s beautiful; did you pick them yourself?”

She nods, “They are for muña and the baby.”

How sweet.

“I hear Dragonstone is living up to its name; the island is practically crawling with dragons now.”

You jump when you hear a voice coming from behind and turn back to see a smug-looking Aemond. He claps his hands behind his back while looking down. He makes eye contact with Jacaerys, who glares up at him. Much to your dismay, Aemond didn’t come alone; Ser Criston and his queen mother were right behind him.

“It’s nice to see you again, princess.” Queen Alicent clears her throat. “How many children resign on Dragonstone now?”

“Ten, soon to be eleven, your Grace.”

“And do all of them have dragons?” Alicent asks with a forced smile.

You don’t answer her. Not only had the years been kind to you and Jace, but your mother and Daemon had three sons together: Gaemon, who was born two moons after Aemma, then Aegon and Viserys, along with another babe on the way, but you didn’t feel the need to share that information. All Alicent wanted to know was if the blacks had more dragons than them.

When you don’t answer, Alicent narrows her eyes slightly but quickly returns to her previous facade. “I presume you have an egg picked for your second babe? It seems the gods were finally kind and gifted you with a healthy boy.”

Aemond looks amused by his mother's comment, while her knight poorly hides a grimace. “Yes, my mother gave me one from Syrax’s clutch.”

Alicent looks down at the multiple children playing in the garden, her face twisting in frustration as she tries to figure out who is who. It was clear that not many details about life on Dragonstone had traveled back to the keep. You hold your baby closer to your chest, trying to shield him from their view. You glance down into the garden and notice Jace and the children are gone.

“I presumed Rhaenyra would have been busy all these years.” Alicent’s voice practically oozes with venom when she says your mother's name. Surly the queen didn’t think your mother had birthed all these children within the time you’d returned to Dragonstone? Alicent steps closer to you, her Hazel eyes appearing to soften. “May I see the child?”

Feeling the blood boil under your skin, you step far enough back from her until your backside hits against the balcony wall. You would sooner be fed to your dragon than hand another child over to her. Alicent seems taken aback by your reaction, which almost caused you to laugh. Almost. Did she really think you’d give her the chance to ridicule your son over his appearance being similar to his father's? Insults burn on the tip of your tongue, but you bite them back.

“I believe my mother asked you a question,” Aemond spat.

He goes to step forward, but Ser. Criston places a hand on your uncle's chest. In an almost joking manner, he says, “Some mothers get rather distressed when separated from their child. It’s best not to intervene.”

It boggles your mind why the knight was stopping him. Perhaps Ser Criston was terrified you’d have him dragged to Viserion if he didn’t put a stop to whatever Aemond was planning on doing.

“Lyarra.” Your eyes meet Jacaerys as he walks towards you, his brows furrowed. He greets the queen, her knight, and your uncle formally, not giving them any reason to find fault in the brief interaction. Jace offers you his arm and says, “Daemon has requested our presence immediately.”

You take his arm and say, “Thank you, my prince.”

When you’re out of earshot, Jace’s features soften slightly. He kisses the back of your free hand before linking his fingers with your own. “Do we tell mother and Daemon about this?”

You shake your head and say, “Maybe later, but we don’t want anything to distract them.”

Jace nods in agreement, but you can tell something else is bothering him. He notices you staring and sighs, “I’ve let you down; I’m sorry.”

“How so?”

“I wasn’t by your side; I gave them the opportunity—”

“I’m a big girl, Jacaerys,” you said softly, causing him to smile in return. “And I guarantee that even with you by my side, Alicent would still try to get under my skin.”

—

“Her children... are bastards! And she is a whore!”

You scrunch up your nose and try not to wretch as the smell of burning human flesh fills the air. After Vaemond Velaryon’s treasonous accusations against your family, your mother ordered Daemon to slay him before having Vaemond’s body fed to Syrax. Syrax hadn’t initially flown to the keep alongside yours and Jacaerys dragons, but she must have sensed your mother needed her because she flew from Dragonstone to the red keep on her own accord, awaiting to be reunited with her rider outside.

Standing at the back of the small crowd gathered, you lean your head against Jace’s shoulder and ask, “Can we please go back? I don’t like leaving the children for this long.”

Jace looks over at Daemon, silently asking him for permission to leave. The last thing you wanted was for your early exit to be seen as a sign of disrespect towards your mother, but the stress of being back was getting to you. You felt as if you’d been punched in the gut when you laid eyes on Aegon for the first time in years within the throne room. Daemon nods, giving you confirmation that it was fine to leave. As you go to leave, you notice Luke shuffling uncomfortably underneath the green’s burning glares.

“Luke?” You kiss your husband on the cheek before letting go of his hand and walking towards your younger brother, gesturing for him to take your arm while smiling brightly. “I’m proud of you; father would be as well.”

“I’ve not done anything to be proud of,” he answers quietly.

“My kind boy, you always do. Holding your head high when slander is being slung your way is never easy.” You make eye contact with Jace, and he gives you a sympathetic smile while seeing you struggling to comfort Luke.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Well…” Lucerys looks over his shoulder to the greens and sees that Queen Alicent is still staring intensely in your direction. “Ever since we came back here, all you’ve done is smile. I thought you hated it here. Are you glad we came back?”

His question causes you to freeze on the spot, and your eyes become teary. “I hated those years I lived here with them, but it was once our home and it will be again one day. Besides,” you brush his curls out of his face. “I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing how scared I am.”

“I find it hard to imagine you’re scared of anything.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re the bravest person I know.”

His words cause a genuine smile to appear on your face, and you pull Luke into your embrace, kissing him on the forehead multiple times. Such a precious boy. “Not any braver than you.”

A look of concern crosses his face; you fear another worrying thought is plaguing his mind. “When our grandsire dies and our mother becomes queen, where will they go? I don’t want to live with our uncles and Alicent again.”

You struggled to answer him; admittedly, it wasn’t something you had thought of, but it was a subject that would need to be addressed another day.

“The only person who could answer that is our mother,” Jace says. He pats Luke on the back gently, “but I imagine it will be a while before it becomes an issue.”

—

Jacaerys holds your hand tightly under the table as you sit side by side in the great hall. His sweet jester helped calm your nerves. Your mother had maintained politeness and respect towards Alicent mainly to please her father, your grandsire, who unfortunately didn’t appear to have much time left. He had grown sicker than the last time you saw him; his face had crumbled at the side, and his breathing had become much worse.

As everyone talked among themselves, tucking into their meals, Alicent’s gaze burned into you. You knew by the way her jaw twitched that she was desperate to say something to you. Finally, she gives into her urge to rock the boat, but instead of talking to you, she turns her attention to your husband. “Jacaerys, Lyarra told us you have an egg picked out for your son.”

Jace shares a look with your mother, who gives him a knowing look. He was fiercely protective of your family but was smart enough not to fall prey to one of Alicent’s games. He puts his cup down, cleaning his throat before answering. “Yes, Lyarra mentioned that you congratulated her on the gods finally gifting her with a healthy son.”

The room falls silent, and all conversations turn stale. Even a drunk Aegon lifts his head to stare at his mother in disbelief. Your grandsire looks at her with disgust; she tries to brush off the stares by bypassing his comment. “Were you hoping for a son or another daughter?”

Jace turns his head slightly to look at you, silently asking for permission, which you give him with a nod. His hand joins yours again as it rests against your soft stomach, the silver velvety fabric brushing against the back of your knuckles. You had done well to maintain privacy while living in Dragonstone, but by not saying anything now, it would seem you were keeping your other children a secret. Jace holds his head high. “I would have been happy with either; we have plenty of both already.”

Daemon lets out a snort.

Alicent looks dumbfounded. “You have other children?”

Jace smiles proudly and says, “Yes, we have twin sons, Avery and Aethan, and another daughter, Rhaenys.”

“Named after her grandmother, I assume.”

The bitterness in her voice was amusing; all Alicent was doing in that moment was making a fool of herself. Your grandsire smacks his hands together. You and Jace had already introduced your grandsire to your other children before settling them for bed. “Wonderful,” he proclaims. “Just wonderful. Do you have any idea what you might call this one?”

You briefly smile at Jace before looking back over to your grandsire. You smile and say, “We have decided to name him Daemon.”

Your mother squeezes your stepfather's arm, looking delighted. Helaena joins Rhaena, and Baela in celebrating the news while your grandsire weakly raises his cup, “a name fit for a prince.”

“A toast!” Daemon says standing, as he beams proudly while holding his cup up. “To Prince Jacaerys, who will one day make a fine king, and his wife, Lyarra, the heart of Dragonstone, Health and happiness to their ever growing family now and always.”

“Now and always,” your mother repeats.

The room is divided as most join in Daemon’s cheers while Alicent, Otto, and Aemond remain sour-faced throughout, while Aegon looks to be struggling to hold his head up.

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and playfulness; you simply ignore the greens aside from your sweet auntie, who had sadly been married to Aegon. You watch happily as Jace dances with Helaena and Luke with his betrothed Rhaena. Your happiness quickly disappears when Aemond uses Jace's not being by your side to his advantage and discreetly moves to sit beside you. You make eye contact with Lucerys, who was the only other person who had seen your uncle's sly movements and looked as if he was about to pounce across the room, which is the type of reaction you assumed Aemond wanted.

Quietly, in your mother's tongue, you say, “I’m sȳz.”

Luke gives you a small nod of understanding as he sits back down, but his glare at your uncle remains.

Across the table, your mother whispers something into Luke’s ear. He looks reluctant but nods in agreement with what she’s just said. Her lilac eyes land on you momentarily before moving to your husband and auntie dancing.

“Jace?” You turn around to face him and ask, “Do you mind escorting me back to the bedchambers? I’m rather exhausted and want to relieve Clara of her duties.”

“Of course, are you feeling—” he trails off when he spots Aemond sitting beside you and realizes why you need to leave; the greens were wanting to escalate nothing into something. He offers you his hand and looks across the table to your younger brother, saying, “I’m sure the children will appreciate a bedtime story from you.”

“I’m just going to say goodnight to mother.”

You walk around the table, which had gone suspiciously quiet as you bypassed Alicent and Otto, before reaching your mother. “We're leaving at the first break of daylight,” she says, kissing your cheek. “Do not let Luke or Jace out of your sight until then.”

As soon as you go to exited the hall Aegon steps in front of you; his eyes were bloodshot red, and greasy hair fell on his face. “The last time I saw you in a silver gown was after you delivered our twins. Does your precious pup remember that?”

“What is it you want from me, Aegon?”

“I never loved you, but I could have loved her.”

A knot twists in your stomach. “I asked you to come to Dragonstone with us; I wanted you two to bond, but you chose not to. You don’t get to play the victim years later because you’ve seen Aemma living a happy life that you’re not involved in.”

“Would you have let me see her? If I’d flown to Dragonstone.”

You made eye contact with Jace, who was waiting for you by the doorway. It broke your heart that he needed to listen and be reminded that he wasn’t Aemma’s biological father. “At one point, yes, but you lost any right to see her when she was made a bastard.”

You go to leave, but Aegon grabs your wrist and asks, “What?”

“Let go of my fucking wrist,” you hiss.

Before Aegon can let go on his own accord, he staggers back when a first is slammed into his face.

“Jace!”

Aemond, jumping to his elder brother's defense, swings a punch at Jacaerys, but you ram into your husband’s side, pushing him out of the way, resulting in you getting punched in the lip. You paid no mind to your mother's scream or the coppery-tang taste in your mouth; your eyes were glued to Luke, who was being pinned to the table with his arm twisted up his back by Aegon.

“Let go of the boy now!” Otto snaps.

You attempt to pry them apart, but Jace pulls you back, stopping you from getting hurt again. He goes to intervene himself but is beaten to it. Daemon steps forward, and Aegon swiftly backs off upon seeing the look on the older man’s face. Luke immediately runs to your mother, while Daemon snarls at Aegon before turning to gently cup your cheek, scanning the damage done to your face.

Crimson splatters cover the floor, but you’re unsure where the blood came from.

Daemon loudly yells, “The Prince and princess have been harmed; why hasn’t the fucking master been called for?”

I’m sȳz - I’m fine

Muña - Mother

Kepa - Father

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