#the dragon hatchery series

[xyeh2o]

(Pyrrhia) - Prologue: Odd One Out, Page 1

Written and Drawn by XyeH2O

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Ao3

Original Character I don't own:

Parakeet by u/Unicat-

Hoop pine by u/Xxhuskypancakex

WARNING: this fanfic is full of spoilers from the original Wings of Fire series, and may be subject to change when arc 4 comes out

Page 1

          Pyrrhia sat silently beneath the night sky, only illuminated by three moons. Within the heart of the Skywing Kingdom, Queen Crimson's palace was shrouded in the shadows of the surrounding mountains.

         Due to the abundant moonlight, many SkyWing soldiers chose to patrol throughout the mountainous terrain, observing even the slightest movements from the ground below

          The Brightest Night, a rare event seen only once a century, featured the three full moons aligned in the starry sky. The horizon glowed as if dawn were about to break, casting a warm light over the scene. Yet, despite the added warmth from the moons, the cool breeze and restless waves kept the night refreshing.

          While the majority of SkyWings prepared for the coming days of celebration, a few dragonets gazed up at the sky in wonder at the rare sight. While some slept peacefully, comforted by the divine moons that brightened the night.

          The kingdom, now vastly populated and developed, thrived in the year five thousand nine hundred twenty-one after the Scorching,

nine hundred nine years into the future.

          Inside the royal hatchery, the air was filled with the crackle of torches and the low murmur of dragons awaiting the hatching. Cacti, the SandWing advisor to Queen Nebula, turned to the IceWing and SkyWing guards. “Call the Hybrid Queen. The clutch is about to hatch,” she commanded, gesturing elegantly with her talons to emphasize her words.

          The guards glanced at each other, then back at her, and nodded. Clutching their spears, they left the hatchery as instructed. Cacti felt a surge of relief and surprise at their compliance; she hadn't been sure if they would follow orders to a sandwing like her, especially with most of the Sandwings in the room being too occupied in their duty or conversation.

          She scanned the nearby dragons, searching for any skeptical looks. The Seawing and Rainwing continued their conversation ignoring their surroundings as they drank their drink, while the Nightwing and Icewing guard were too busy gossiping to notice her.

[whumpster-fire]

Comin' in hot with some Wings Of Fire takes. Have only read the first arc so far so might be getting some things wrong because of stuff in later arcs but whatever.

I saw a YouTube video of Would You Rather memes for the series and one of them was something like "Would you rather be a Firescales or a red egg Mudwing" and the results weren't unanimously the latter so I have to point this out: Peril is legitimately disabled. Like, her condition is good in two specific situations: a fight to the death or if you need something melted, but otherwise her powers are actively detrimental to her quality of life because she can't turn them down enough to safely touch any flammable materials or other dragons. She can't sleep on a soft bed. She can't read from a scroll. Presumably she'd have to be very careful around grass or trees. She is clingy with Clay because he's literally the only person who can touch her without getting third degree burns. Even without Scarlett's abuse her condition would be incredibly isolating and traumatic to grow up with. It's basically the equivalent of if a rainwing had a disorder that caused them to constantly sweat venom out of their scales.

Speaking of Scarlett's abuse, uhh... not that putting any dragon in a gladiatorial arena isn't gambling with their life, but there's something extra cruel and evil about putting a Firescales in a gladiatorial arena because, like. There was no way for Peril to safely spar or playfight with other dragonets. Did she even have any training other than watching other dragons fight and maybe getting whacked with a long stick before she was thrown into a death match for the first time? And the only things she's actually immune to are breath weapons, and possibly Sandwing/Rainwing venom if her body heat just cooks it into uselessness. For claws / teeth / seawing tails / sandwing tail barbs her only defense is that nobody can hit her without getting hurt themselves and her opponents all know it because she's almost exclusively fighting dragons who've already watched her burn someone to death. But a dragon lashing out in panic or trying to escape being grabbed could still have easily killed or maimed her even if they only got one hit in before their brain registered the pain. Like, the injury Flame got from Viper. I have to wonder if Peril being Scarlett's unstoppable champion was really the plan from the beginning or if she originally put her in against a prisoner she really hated with the expectation that her opponent would probably kill her but then either die of their injuries slowly and painfully afterward or be guaranteed to lose their next fight?

Also if Peril was ever injured to the point of needing medical attention, did anyone even have a plan for how to safely move her? Let alone bandage or dress a wound or splint a fracture or stitch a torn wing membrane?

Other topic: Coral is not a good queen or a good parent, I'm sorry. Trauma over having her daughters repeatedly killed aside she had most of the dragons around her walking on eggshells because they could be murdered or imprisoned for failing, disobeying, or displeasing her. That is not a mark of a good leader. Maybe she was better before all the trauma but not at the time of Arc 1. Also Orca challenging her literally as soon as she was old enough and setting that statue trap going "You're going to rule forever, aren't you, Mother? You should thank me. No one can stop you now." is... giving me really, really bad vibes that something drove that child past the breaking point and even if she thought she could win the challenge she was ready to die rather than live under Coral's rule / parenting any longer. Also I'm convinced that the statue was not meant to kill Orca's own eggs assuming she won her fight, because if she wanted to do that she could have easily put it in the hatchery while she was queen under the pretext of "I want to make sure the first thing my children see is my face even if I'm unable to be there for their hatching." That thing was a Dead Dragon's Switch that I bet she either planned to deactivate if she won or programmed to have a different function if she won, like actually guarding the hatchery.

I really don't want to go here with speculation but given that Coral was canonically planning to marry Anemone off to a much older creep of a dragon... are we sure that this is the only time Coral did this? Because I'm just saying, I'm struggling to think of things that would make a 7 year old dragonet feel like she has to overthrow her mother or die trying RIGHT NOW and also create a machine programmed to murder any future sisters if she fails, and this fits horribly, skin-crawlingly well. Having a deadline to escape an arranged marriage that's set to happen very soon after her seventh birthday would give Orca a reason she absolutely could not wait another few years to challenge her mother, and believing that her mother who didn't believe her and refused to listen was dumb enough to make the same mistakes again with a future daughter would be a motive to turn from "protective of her siblings" to wanting her future sisters dead.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

28 - The Clash of Three Kings

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.9k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions of past character death, descriptions of gore and violence, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, slight exhibitionism kink

Notes: No crazy revelations occured right at the end of the last chapter right? Nah, I'm sure everything is fine and dandy as always. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The sun was shining so abnormally bright it verged on painful to look at, but through the harsh squinting you persisted through the brush. A strange overcoming of determination within your veins the closer you got washed over you, the memory of what came before having you go faster as you traversed the terrain towards the mouth of the mine. 

Hardly what would normally be called a mine, it was more a series of tunnels which as soon as were accessed deep enough, housed a shining variety of a kind of rock little spoken of by any except for you on this very island. Surrounded by life of the once Targaryean dynasty it was impossible to avoid their impacts left on Dragonstone. Their mark left on the castles with fire, dragons, and three hundred years of using this place as a second spot to rule over away from the capitol. 

You scarcely ever had a reason to use such aspects of that childhood home. To you, it was not a terrifying island that one homed the infamous dragon riders and conquerors. But an isolating home that left you with no real friends to speak of, a big and vast castle home that made hiding away too easy. The terrain of jagged cliffs and curtain hangs that lead from impenetrable shore rocks as a shield from the outside world leading deep into the woods that homed the volcano of Dragonmont. Yet to you, it wasn’t that which you spent time in. 

It was the curiosity of tunnels underground and in caves and mines which sparked your attention. You had no friends nor siblings, and little lived near the castle that were not other adults or children just too old to want to play with a five year old. So you explored, and that was how you found the tunnels, and in those tunnels, you learned the trickier the climb down, the more you found. One day, you had tossed a torch far down the middle of a shaft to see how far it went, and as it thudded against the bottom you saw shining rocks that looked like crystals that had you learn to climb all alone to find out what they were. 

You liked exploring the mines as a girl with no friends and nothing to do, but now as you approached one of those very tunnels, it was not the adventure you sought.

It was the very shining crystal like rocks that were spoken to be an answer to a freezing horror far beyond the North. 

The four of you were deep into the woods surrounding the outer borders of Dragonmont, coming close enough that looking high in the sky your neck would crane up with a squint to see the increasingly warm air was also thick and heavy in your lungs due to the smoke smoothly simmering from the very top. It had done so since you were born, you hardly noticed it despite Theon, Ryk and Tormund glancing at the other with questioning gazes at how little it winded you. 

Many of the entrances were not easily accessible. Dragonglass had never once been mentioned in the books of Westerosi history to be of any importance, so it all sat underground as a natural deposit the realm cared not to trade. The only times it was whispered such tunnels were used was in the very beginning of it’s existence which mattered. The Doom of Valyria had survived none but the family named Targaryean, and with them as they fled brought with them both dragons and dragon eggs. 

Deep underground found by none were rumoured to be hatcheries that sat so hot under the volcano that it was the only place they could be born, their dragons. The volcano ran deep under the depths of the water and so it couldn’t be as simply as that, but also no such thing had been found. Once they took over the lands by force and death, their dragons were instead bred from which they could use them the most, and the Dragonpit of King’s Landing was created. The space of the island and how little could be grown or harvested there, it made no sense to you to think raising such terrors of the sky could be sustainable. 

Most of Dragonstone’s biggest import were harvested crops, grain, vegetables and freshly kept livestock to feed with. It was a place built to terrify, but it seemed the Targaryeans had begun their dynasty of unsustainabiity so early that a lifeless rock of heat and brimstone was seen as a place to raise such creatures. If their eggs hatched under the grounds of Dragonmont, you could only think how foolish it was to do so. Whatever tunnels which existed once, were no more then crawling spaces that would terrify the untrained, and certainly not to drag eggs in to hatch and hope they survive. 

Coming up to a jagged formation of stones sat against a rolling cliff side, you had been the first to get off your horse. Tying it to a tree without a word to your three companions as you begun to walk around the area with narrowed, squinting eyes to seek out signs that this was one of the spots you left behind. 

“What are we looking for exactly?” 

Tormund had called out to you, but you scarcely heard. It had to be here somewhere, you thought. A set of feet all walked over to where you looked at the stones, as they looked with a raised eyebrow and confused expressions. Only it took not much longer for it to come to your vision, a small carving at the very edge of a stone had you crouch down by it, and without a second word begun to pull the heavy rock out. Tossing it with heave down to the side, and there one sat. 

All three men came to your side glancing into the darkness as you somewhat tried to see in, only to lean back out, gesturing to Theon to grab you the bag by your horse. Tossing some of it to he and Tormund from what was inside, “Should be something in there to make a torch of.” 

As you somewhat climbed partially into the smaller entrance, body half inside with one gloved hand braced at the top as you looked around the sight. It was too dark for any to see properly once deep enough, but you knew these tunnels so much it was like it had been lit up already. 

Turning back, you reached out as Theon handed you the lit torch and finally all watched you lean back under and half inside to see, and then the faintest of a grin fell over your lips. Moving the rest of the way in, you had not waited for the three to follow as you walked along the top surface, torch high as you continued along, lighting up small loose torches that had sat untouched the years between this visit and the last in here, having left them yourself when still exploring. 

“Not exactly what I imagined when you said there was a shit ton of it.” 

Looking back partially towards Theon with a raised eyebrow before your face fell flat. Picking up one of the torches you handed it to him while adding to its fire, as Tormund kept the area lit with another.

Walking up to the edge you leaned close and tossed the lit flame down, gesturing for them with a nod to peak themselves. As the flames landed down far at the bottom of the cavern, there was a twinkling glow around it that flashed up to your eyes in some spots. Tormund’s eyes were wide and a tinge of impressed as his voice muttered out, “Better start climbing then.” 

There were rings dug deep into the stone along the drop down, places as it to slide a torch within to see as multiple climbing digs were embedded along as well. “Some of these I put in when I was still a girl, be sure to check they are stable before stepping down onto any.” 

Tormund himself eyed Ryk climbing next to him with a condescending grin plastered, “Hear that, Longspear? We got no way of carrying you back up, means if you fall, best try and die when you do it.” 

Rolling your eyes with a tinge of playful, you and Theon flickered your glances with amusement as you all made your way down. This one, was far easier. The rocks more forgiving of any tools, there was light and no need to keep so quiet as your time could be taken all of your own choosing. Each descend far enough, you and Ryk at each end would stay back to move your only two sources of fire down to each new metal hold you both would stake into the cave wall, intending later that very day to fill them all with proper lighting along with the rest of your work.

You had intended to do this first part alone, simply getting here and making any sources of light to see a path but you had been seen awake far too early for any soul by Tormund. He had noticed the distance in your eyes that spoke of something he realized had no clues given to him over it, and your only admission that there was just much to think about that made you struggle to sleep was begged to be dropped. 

So he woke Ryk, or moreso, dragged him out of sleep with force and rumbled to him about not sitting around on his ass. Theon didn’t sleep well either, but he never did anymore. So when he had found you by where one of the guards guided him to the kitchens in the confusing halls, he had come across you gathering water. “You’re up way too early.” He had jested.

You rose an eyebrow at him, before nodding at his own person with a flat, “So what are you doing here then?” Unlike Tormund, you knew Theon could see something had not just woken you up, but something had kept you up and for how alert your eyes were, you were awake since before the sun dawned over the sea. You had mentioned getting an early start on the tunnels, and that sorted that out. 

Telling you to not leave before he could grab what he, himself needed. Not asking if he could help or join and you didn’t even think about it. A strange little trio of climbers was this group turning out to become. And luckily for you, two of them were dynamic enough to speak most of the silence, and Theon had found it easier over time to converse more like a normal person and spoke for you on the climb down the cave wall. 

But there was something in your eyes that Theon didn’t know, and it was odd to him at this point between the pair of you that he found something he had no clue how to read between your stoic expressions. 

He also, were he to be honest much later on, wished he knew before hand that when he would wake up some hours after you all took off, Jon would have not a single clue where you had gone all day. He would’ve at least requested a guard inform him rather then let the King in the North be blindsided by it, but once you were focused heavily on something, you tended to forget many details of the world around you. 

But as all four reached the bottom of the cavern, Theon and Tormund stood by the other and only when the torch light beside both of them from Ryk and yourself came to light up more of the sight, did the visions around come into view of the reality. The walls grew darker as the lower it had become and around the four of you was a shine. 

The walls were high and paths off shooting from high up and low down, but everywhere were darker spots of stone that weren’t quite fitting with the rest. In large chunks deeply framing the cave walls with twists and turns and edges that spiked out with jagged amounts it all sat around looking far more dark and otherworldly then even the black stone made of the castle above. Looking all around each of you walked the bottom, you handing up the torch in your hand and snatching up the one laying at the bottom still flaming away. Stabbing another metal loop into a chunk of normal rock you hung it up on another wall, each man around you with a quiet in their eyes.

Your head turned high, and the reflective glass like rock stared back as if hiding another world in it’s depths below the dark and heavy air of the lands. None heard your breathless whisper and none needed to, you could feel the necklace sitting against your chest and that was all you needed. “I told you I’d take you down here one day.” Her bright eyes were clear as day as you could almost smile imagining Shireen by your side with wonder as she looked around the ethereal cavern. 

“So, what now?” 

Your body turning back to the three men as Tormund glanced to you. Chest rising and falling heavy with a deep inhale and subsequent exhale, you pulled out a bag attached close to your side and tossed it to him while your other hand pulled out rope hiding along under the back of your cloak. “We start digging paths around the tunnels.” 

Ryk glanced up curiously, “How many tunnels lead into here?” 

Shrugging you knew of many but lost count of many others. “More then I’ve ever explored. This isn’t the only one either, there are caches all around the island that don’t even lead into the other. But this was the biggest one to start with that I know my way around well enough.” 

There was no more reason to stand around in awe, you all had a long day ahead of you. 

The fact that few seemed to even question where you were didn’t sit well with him. Those all working in the castle of Dragonstone seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary that you had not appeared anywhere within the walls or the grounds. 

It didn’t quite feel good, waking up that morning to find not only were you not still laying in bed with him, but then Jon couldn’t seem to find you anywhere and once more he was keeping down a panic of something he was trying very hard to keep to himself. It was in his eyes though, and as he finally came across Stannis he was fairly certain he did a poor job of hiding it. His rough, low tones did not make the matter any less subtle to the keen eyed Baratheon. 

Both stood near the other by the giant table, what seemed to be the room used most from the Baratheons as the meeting hall, the very top room of the main Stone Drum tower. Carved and painted to look just like Westeros from Dorne to the Wall, Jon had been there first. A guard escorting him to where he was told Stannis would like to meet with him having not a clue yet where things in this confusing mess of a castle were. Running his hand along the surface with narrowed eyes before coming to the end of the table. 

Some feet behind him was the splashes of the sea and morning sun shining onto the surface, lighting up where Dorne had been placed by the edge. Only moments before, his curiosity had him picking up a wooden figurine that had been dropped close to the Prince’s Pass. A wooden dragon figure had been cracked and split down the middle as the other lay alone whereas everything else on the board was placed with careful precision.

“I don’t need them to believe me, but as long as we’re here I’d rather give them the chance to help instead of sitting in the dungeons as prisoners.” 

He and Stannis disagreed on bringing Aegon and Jon Connington up from their cells to discuss any terms of peace. “You are optimistic, too much so. You asked of them for cooperation and they forced your men to the shores to fight, why would they change their attitudes now?” 

Jon however, felt not the grudge or anger many expected of his enemies but instead an understanding in his eyes were bright as he willed the man across from him to listen. “If Aegon wants to leave, fight other battles for the Iron Throne then he can leave. But they won’t stop at coming for us, they’ll come for them as well too. At least give me the chance to explain that.” Stannis looked doubtful, and Jon’s tone was a bit lighter if quieter as he leaned forward. “He could be a useful ally.” 

The rigidness that responded however was unconvinced. “If he’s his father’s son the only use he would be is rotting in a dungeon as far from any crown as possible.” Jon only challenging him on if he wasn’t, and Stannis looked almost through him for a moment to think. “I would very much doubt he is any different, but you are right. We can give he and Lord Connington that chance.” 

Nodding, in agreement, Stannis gestured to his own men to bring Lord Connington up. Seeing Jon’s questioning gaze he simply explained, “He will be the easier starting point. There is something of bad blood between Baratheons and Targaryeans, after all.” 

He hadn’t had as much of a look at Aegon as he had Connington, but Jon still couldn’t help but try and envision the man he came here in claimant of. How similar were father and son, and how much of those similarities would prove to be foreboding once more? His voice barley above a whisper as his fingers dug into the table where he kept himself braced against. “What was he like?” Stannis looked to him with a flat expression save for a raised eyebrow, “Rhaegar Targaryean? Everyone talks about what the Mad King was like, but..” 

He was once more envious of your families ability to remain so steady and unaffected by anything, when Jon could hear his fathers voice telling stories of his Uncle, his Grandfather. The ones he would never meet and how it was their deaths that started the war. Or how he struggled to ever bring up his sister, Jon’s Aunt, the one whose kidnapping was the catalyst for the war to have come. Those pains never really went away for his father, and truthfully, the entire family as well. 

Now the only remaining child of Eddard Stark and not even the one called Stark in name, and yet all that pain fell onto Jon’s shoulders. It felt odd to think. 

“It differs depending on who you ask. Most who served under him would think of him as charming and brave.” Somehow Jon thought to himself, he doubted that. “If you asked my brother Robert, he would have told you he was a monster. An abomination that some twenty four years later still made him just as angry as he did when he was alive.” 

Jon’s eyes were far away, a glazed over distance trying to reconcile such drastic ends. “And you?” A hum of question leaving Stannis’s throat. “What would you say about him?” 

It wasn’t however a casual feeling which sat in Stannis’s eyes even though he tried to portray it in his even tone. “It is as I said. There is bad blood between House Targaryean and Baratheon, and that bad blood did not end with Robert. You seem very willing to cooperate with the boy, and his father has wronged your family more then my own.” 

He could be angry, but he also knew that wasn’t where his anger lay. It wasn’t trapped within vessels of a past he would never know, it was in the present he needed to protect. “If he isn’t anything like Rhaegar, I want to give him a chance to prove it.” 

It was difficult to read, but it seemed as if a bit of pride sat behind Stannis’s eyes. “You are a more forgiving man then most.” 

Jon only felt his knuckles strain against the flexing pressure he leaned against them with. “No, I’m not. But I am patient enough to give him the benefit of the doubt first.” Not to which he would say it out loud, but he was glad he never saw the fight between Aegon and you. He wasn’t so sure he would have that same patience had he seen the dragon against you as such.

He had asked enough people in the castle, he didn’t need to come off as over protective in front of your own father by asking where you were, but it itched inside Jon’s chest not to do so anyways. He couldn’t let himself spiral, not to obsess over the fear that every single dark, and perverse thought which came pouring out of his mouth the night before had chased you away. You had responded more eager then what his heart could handle. He couldn’t stand there and let himself lose control over it, not now. 

Not in front of what was about to be a meeting full of no doubt awkward discussions of the North, as he knew he was the only firm source between he and Stannis to portray the extend to which this issue was not the North’s alone. 

But it still lingered in fear as the two of them waited. Had he said something in such raw honesty that in some way over stepped your marriage to Robb? Had he simply been too vulgar with you? Or worse, too rough? Not a single spec of the world existed that night other then the two of you entangled together in front of the fire, but perhaps in the light of morning it was too much for you to look back on.

Maybe Jon thought, he needed to ease up with you. That perhaps it was his intensity which scares you. 

It was a blessing which none here cared about keeping up proper appearances. Deep underground was boiling enough without the amount of movement you all were doing, coating you in sweat, grime, and occasionally blood if you weren’t careful enough. Most of the day was spent either climbing along the walls, or on your stomach or back pulling through tight tunnels to map out in detail. 

The open spaces only grew to be more vast. A dark glass like stone that shined black as if it were reflecting right off of the night sky, and sat all around in crystal like formations along the walls as if growing on there. You wondered how much it would shine and glow were the sun to open up inside of these walls. 

Not every rock was made of Dragonglass, but it was painted so heavily along the walls you felt utterly surrounded by it, despite the heat however every touch to your skin was cool. 

Currently, you were perched on a small tunnel space, trying to carve out the simple rock against the walls so it was easier for one to crawl though, knowing it opened up from what the flames hinted at was a vast cavern which you suspected led to much more. Not too far from you was Theon, digging supports into the walls making climbing much easier then the free kind you all had to do to get to this point. 

Somewhere off in nearby tunnels you could hear the muffled bickering of Tormund and Ryk as any chuckling or laughter boomed off the walls and echoed all up to the surface. 

“How do you know so much about all of this?” Turning your head down and to the side from where you had been reaching up, you almost coughed as you accidentally let some of the gravel fall too close to your face. Raising your eyebrow with a grimace, Theon gestured around him. “Dragonglass, how’d you know this was all here in the first place?” 

Hands dropping down to the stone below, you glanced up to where you could see the circling of torches finally having lit the cave up to see without issue, the licking flames all fading in brightness the closer to the surface and further the black dragonglass faded into merely dark stone. Dropping your gaze back to him only briefly as you returned to your task. Voice a bit far away even in there. “I used to explore these tunnels often as a girl. There wasn’t much else to do on Dragonstone and I didn’t have any friends, so I started working my way through these tunnels.” 

You had missed something a bit sad behind Theon’s eyes, but it was there in his softer tone. “So you spent your days crawling and climbing through mines hoping to what? Find something special?” 

Huffing a laugh, you winced trying to knock out a more difficult stone in the way which was attached to the edge of dragonglass, a very difficult kind of rock to cut through with the tools at hand. “Those in the villages say that the Targaryeans built rooms in here, places to hatch their dragon eggs near the heat of the volcano, lit by never ending fires and wooden pathways which long rotted to the ground. I only ever found more cave, no dragons, no magical rooms. Just rock and tight spaces.” 

“You believe that? That something special made their dragons hatch here?” 

You huffed another strained laugh, not even looking at him. “Not for a second. Most of them were born in Kings Landing during their dynasty. No great fire, no volcano, just a dragonpit to hatch their eggs in. If Dragonstone was so special, they would have been breeding them here far before Valyria fell.” 

You were beginning to regret keeping your skin of water so close to the ground, squinting down to decide if the path was worth it before ultimately deciding to just endure. Theon had begun working away at the stones and spikes once more, speaking through the hammering. “Would have loved to see one, though.” 

“No, you wouldn’t have.” His head whipped over to you, but you shrugged before turning away again as you elaborated. “Robert destroyed most of what the Targaryeans had left, but under the Red Keep in their own tunnels there is still a massive dragon skull. Must have thought it too big, or it was an artifact and so he hid it away. But it was huge, could stand up in it’s mouth and still not reach top to bottom.” Grimacing as you tore off finally a more difficult piece, you sighed out. Dropping your arms to look at Theon properly. “If you ask me, something that big flying around breathing fire? We’re better off them all being dead.” 

“You really think so?” 

Instead of the amusement he expected, there was nothing but a darker glint behind your eyes as you saw fire. Wildfire exploding before you in bright greens that had men screaming and clawing at their own burning skin, and that was nothing compared to what it was said dragonfire could do. “Dragons don’t plant trees. They don’t create, they don’t build. They destroy. Creatures like that, have no place in the kind of world people like us are trying to fight for.”

Your voice was rough, a gritting that grated against you throat like sand as you begged for water and a soothing honey to warm it down as you continued, finding Theon’s eyes properly. “Dragons only know death and destruction, and as soon as they were gone, Targaryeans had nothing left to trick us into thinking they were special. They aren’t special for being able to ride dragons. Nothing is special about controlling a creature whose only purpose is to destroy.”  

Your mind floating off to a thought you had come down here so early in the morning to avoid. A thud came from one of the higher tunnels, Tormund making his way out and calling your attention over. “How many places do you have shit stashed around this place?” A scattering of old tools now sitting in an ever growing pile.

You almost found it in you to laugh, “I was down here all alone most times. I wanted to make sure I always had tools and ropes in case I ran into issue with what I climbed down with.” 

Tormund shook his head in his own amusement. “If I wasn’t sure Snow would skewer me in my sleep for it, I’d have told these other two to piss off hours ago, pretty crow.” 

If Theon was posed to defend you, it was almost nice for him to see how easily you laughed and how relaxed you responded with no hesitation or fear of any real intent behind the words. “The day is young yet, Tormund.”

The manner in which Jon Connington was looking at him, continued to make him feel a slight bit on edge. Glancing up on multiple occasions with a squinting gaze that bordered on something like curiosity or leaning towards judgment. All three men at least were able to stay calm and steady during the course of their discussions, but it seemed that the Southerners continue to have no reason to believe in the things whispered beyond the wall. 

“I’m not the one who needs convincing. You’ve taken the island for yourselves, I can’t stop you from doing whatever you want here nor have you given me a reason to care. But if Aegon doesn’t agree to it, then that’s where this all ends.” 

Trying to be reasonable was more difficult then Jon initially imagined. Connington and Stannis seemed to be the pair at odds as long as it was the two of them in the room. One firm in his dedication to his King, the other a stubborn King himself motivated by harsh belief. They wanted to make this once more about the Iron Throne as if that was what mattered and Jon could feel the frustration in his veins rising. 

Glancing up at Ser Davos, both men shared a glance with the mutual understanding that they were all getting nowhere. Cutting into Stannis’s response, Jon raised his voice over to overpower the whole room instead. “Lord Connington, I was the one who wrote to him. I asked for peace, to stay here together beacuse what I’m fighting for has nothing to do with the Iron Throne. None of this had to happen this way, we could have all stood here and talked this out yesterday but it was Aegon who forced us to fight.” 

Connington’s eyes narrowed slightly, a strange wonder still behind them that was beginning to make Jon wish Ghost was with him. Commonly whatever intentions were behind someone’s eyes if Jon didn’t catch it, and you weren’t here to catch it, then Ghost would. But as he spoke, he peeled his eyes from Jon to look once more at Stannis. “Yet you failed to mention the ally at your side was also a King fighting for that same throne. Doesn’t sound like the peaceful course of action to me.” 

Not wavering once, Jon had no care for the insinuation. “I don’t speak for Stannis Baratheon. He joined this fight of his own choice, not mine. And this is his home your men invaded.” 

“And I suppose then it has nothing to do with it also being your wife’s girlhood home either.” His tone was doubtful and sharp but it clearly took both Jon, Davos, and Stannis back for a moment. 

Stannis glanced quickly towards him, but Jon had to keep whatever he thought that look meant internalized. “All that meant is that she and Stannis know this castle, this land. We knew whatever fight there was, would be short if we had two of them who knew this castle in more detail then you or I ever could.” If Jon simply didn’t address it then he didn’t have to fight off the echos in his head from coming to consume him in fear of it being a step too far.

“Marry me, let me take you home and marry me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Gods help him, Jon was so deep inside of you when that came clawing out of his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to pressure you into that, didn’t want you to assume he wished to replace Robb. But you had felt so good around him, and he had been pounding into you so roughly at that point he was barley in control of what he was saying. Nearly anything could’ve come out of his mouth.

Jon at least considered himself lucky that the worst, most lewd and unhinged parts of those thoughts still remained locked away in his head like a caged animal. If he scared you from his arms last night, he dared not think what giving into those desires entirely would terrify you of. 

Connington didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t argue back on that point. Taking a moment to think before his eyes remained on the table at first. “This is not an agreement to work together,” eyes flickering back up between the two men. “But should Aegon decide he finds utility in this..cause of yours, then I would be willing to broker an arrangement with my men to be of some assistance. Only, if Aegon agrees though. Otherwise we are going to have a problem on our hands.” 

Nodding to Stannis very subtly, the man himself moved to speak to a pair of his guards as Jon and Connington looked at the other. Your name slipped from the laters mouth, “May I ask why she did not attend this meeting? Seems odd for a Queen not to be present for such a matter.” 

Luck found more on it’s way to Jon’s side as Stannis's tone was flat, smooth and without a hesitation. “She had other duties which needed attending too.” 

Whatever hints of an intensity reminding Conning so heavily of Rhaegar, were no longer shining clear in his eyes. And he felt uncomfortable with the fact that he felt relieved at such a sight. 

Jon Connington could see without any doubt however, that Aegon was in some of the worst of spirits as he accompanied guard to get him. Eyes narrowed and angry that struggled to let up even when one came into sight of the other. Standing up quickly, he approached the iron bars in an instant. “Are you alright?” 

He was taken back. Not the question he was expecting from Aegon, his head jolting back a little bit before shaking his head. “I’m fine, been through far worse then this. Are you alright?” Putting more emphasis towards his own fairing. 

Aegon swallowed harshly, shrugging one shoulder even though his voice was as rough as gravel. “Good as any humiliated prisoner can be. Suppose all the men out there had a good laugh at my loss.” 

Connington’s eyes felt a bit, tinted something washed over with a sorrow as he stepped forward. “Listen to me- Aegon.” His voice growing louder with no room for question. Not a way a man speaks to a King, but rather like a father to a son, and both parties didn’t speak of how they both felt it. “You’ve trained your whole life to be a leader, but you aren’t a soldier. You’ve never fought in a battle before last night, and you were up against an opponent who spent three years fighting in a war. No one, on their side or ours thinks that’s funny.”

For a moment he almost sounded like the child Young Griff used to be, muttering and not quite looking him in the eye as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How am I supposed to convince my people to see me as their King, if I was beaten by a girl the first battle I was in? Would my men follow me now knowing I couldn’t even lead one charge to victory?” 

Stepping towards the bars more, Connington rested one gloved hand on the it, wrapping around the iron and dropping his tone, hoping to catch Aegon’s eye. “And I was the one who surrendered to protect you. Yet they still are listening to me just fine. Every good leader fails before he succeeds, and you have only just started. This does not dictate your future, only right now.” 

Aegon nodded, and the quiet sat between them for a moment before quietly speaking up once more, “May I ask why you are walking free and I’m still locked away?” 

“I’ve spoken to our new hosts.” Aegon raised a half unamused eyebrow, catching back only a glimpse of a smirk on one side of Connington's face. “Jon Snow and Stannis Baratheon have something they would like to propose. A deal of sort, for peace. I want you to hear them out, what they have to say sounds extraordinary but the choice will be up to you.” 

As the guards opened the cell door, he spoke louder and this time there was no mistakening the playful but stern tone which most only heard from that of a parent “Aegon, this time when I tell you to follow your first instinct, make sure it’s actually yours. I’m asking you, I’m not asking Rhaegar.” 

Only seen by the guards down in those dungeons, as the door opened, both men found the other in a hug that felt far too much like father and son for whose actual son Aegon was supposed to go back being. 

If Jon were being entirely honest, this was the ugliest room he had seen by far on Dragonstone. To which judging by the look he shared with Ser Davos beside him, he was not the only one who thought so. The room was wide, tall ceilings above and much of nothing around. Only a large space of grey and black stone as it led up to a small set of stairs and what seemed to be the ruling seat of whoever was lording over the island. 

Many years ago, back when you had come to Winterfell after moving with your father to Kings Landing long term, he had asked you if the Iron Throne was as immense and threatening as the stories all spoke of it. He remembered so vividly the flat expression on your face and how utterly monotone you had said it. “It might be the ugliest chair I have ever seen in my life.” 

It was spoken to be high in the air and full of swords and spikes melted from those won in Aegon the Conquerors invasion. Many steps to reach just the seat as it loomed over all in the Red Keep. You hadn’t described much of what it truly looked like, but you ensured him it was as disappointing as it was ugly. 

The seat at the front of the Great Hall, was the ugly chair Jon always imagined. A window behind it shaped like the face of a dragon and the seat covering much of it was a jagged formation of black stone that had but one flat surface smoothed out into it to sit on. It was almost a bewildered amusement at how different this place was then Winterfell. 

There wasn’t even a singular, elaborate seat for lords like this. In Winterfell, the main hall was just a hall, every table, bench and chair looked all the same and there were seats enough where his father would sit that had many other beside him for council as well. This wasn’t suited for that, only for demand and control. Hard too, imagining either you or Stannis even sitting on that chair to do anything. 

Much of Dragonstone Jon found, felt like it was created by a people who saw themselves as gods and the more he looked the less he liked any of it. But the final judgment seemed to be lurking around the corner waiting to be brought up. 

Stannis coming to join, there was a lack of calm which was the last as they waited before. Ser Davos looked between both men, before glancing to his own attire. “I’m starting to think I’m not wearing nearly enough armour for this. Are we bracing for a fight or a meeting?” 

Jon’s voice almost echoed in the vast space of the room. “If he’s willing to listen to what we have to say, there’ll be no need for another fight.” 

“Not as if the boy would win.” Jon and Davos both turned to look at Stannis, who only held a glint which almost showed a hint of pride in his eyes.

At least someone was proud of you for that, Jon thought. He certainly wasn’t. Once more the thought crossing through his mind of how little he understood how it was Robb handled it. Every new mark or cut you got in combat only made Jon that much more on edge about having you anywhere near a fight. 

He should be proud, and deep inside of him was, how you had gotten yourself this far. But he couldn’t see passed a vision of you soaked in blood. Jon deliberately avoided putting any pressure on your ribs last night, and the sight of the blues and purples Aegon clearly had hammered into you. Aegon was lucky Jon had a far better handle on his temper then he once did. 

In a way, all three King’s seemed to stand as opposites. Aegon with a rich and ornate dark armour painted black with a bold red of a three headed dragon draped across the chest plate dramatically, his hair longer like Jon’s, but flat and dyed a stand out blue. He also reached much closer to Stannis’s taller stature. But he was hesitant, something light in his eyes that shined a bold blue matching his hair. He looked like a King but his eyes more like an unsure boy. 

Jon on the other hand, knew he looked not much like a King. His armour no more extravagant then any Northerner fighting by his side, only his own House shown just by the small sigil of two direwolves facing one another carved to blend into a small middle of his chest plate. In contrast Jons longer black curls were tied all the way back as matched the grey so dark in his eyes it would appear black in the right light. He stood shorter then Aegon, but with the weight of a leader on his shoulders that the others could see radiated something of authority. That, and Aegon had no sword of his own at this point, while the white wolf pommel of Longclaw sat proud at Jon’s side. 

Stannis however, blended into the room. Greys and Blacks in his wardrobe much like what you dressed in the times of war he know knew you in, and were he to stand still he might have disappeared into the walls, and Jon was fairly certain was intentional. If Jon stood as the opposite of what Aegon presented himself as, Stannis stood apart from the flash of what the Targaryeans showed off with. 

And Jon knew, Stannis was exactly where you got that habit from too. 

The men accompanying them introduced Aegon as he had approached almost as if meant to intimidate with it’s enormity. “I present his grace, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Aegon of the House Targaryean, the sixth of his name.”

It felt like posturing, standing with men of the Golden Company at his back like guard dogs. The only one who stood on the other side of the parties, was Ser Davos. He and Jon shared a look almost speaking silently in a confused question of were they supposed to return the gesture?

Davos, without the decorum of what had just been presented, and if perhaps, just a bit of purposeful simplicity rather then any dramatics. “This is Jon Snow, King in the North. And-”

Aegon interrupted, his voice which sounded more sure and confident then which was spoken of in his eyes directing his attention first to Stannis. “Stannis Baratheon. The King who now stands in my way of the Iron Throne. I have heard much about you, some good, much bad. For someone claiming to be King it seems you are not much known as a popular man.” 

If that was a slight, Stannis budged not even part of an inch in care. His voice stern and cold as it was any time he was commanding the room. “Being well liked alone does not make you a King. It only makes you a fool enough to believe that is all it takes to succeed as one. My brother Renly was popular, stood against me and as soon as he passed, all of his bannerman came to my side and have been as loyal since. I do not need my men to like me, to trust me to lead them.” 

Aegon looked him in the eye, and there was something held back in his tone that did not speak of the same command. “And once the people have seen the rightful heir return to claim his throne, I am certain we will see which one of us holds the true loyalty of the people.” Stannis barley raised an eyebrow and as Aegon turned his attention to Jon, he knew it was possible the steadfast in how unaffected Stannis was had shifted the air in the dragon to something less confident. 

But that confidence did not leave Jon feeling the same. In fact, there was anger in what came out of the dragons mouth. “Now, forgive me, I have not been in Westeros for some years, but I could have sworn that the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark. Who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon, the first of his name.” Oh did Jon ever feel a rising heat in his veins begging to lash out. “In exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Which if I am not mistaken, means forever.” 

The last time he saw Robb was in the courtyards of Winterfell, a small smile on his face as they both stood younger and naive of the pain and blood to follow their separation. 

“The next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.” 

If he focused enough, Jon could still feel the last hug he ever shared with his brother, his closest companion his entire life. And he felt angry. He knew what Aegon was doing. 

Jon’s voice was a deep, angry rasp with eyes flashing to match. “I wasn’t there, I couldn’t tell you what my ancestor did. But you and I both know of the King in the North before me, the one the North chose first was my brother. Robb Stark was the King they declared after three hundred years of your families neglect of my people.” Robb died for the North, and not for a second was Jon going to stand there and let this stranger insult his memory.

Aegon was playing a game though, a game which he knew too many lords and ladies of this country thought was the way to gain power, but Jon only grew more visibly angry this time as he spoke. “An oath is still an oath. You mean to break faith with House Targaryean-”

Jon’s voice this time, did echo through the room. Stepping forward as his own face twisted in an anger as he shut down whatever this was supposed to be. He was not a Stark in name, but his father had four sons, not three. He still had Stark in his blood. “Break faith? Your grandfather burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive. Your own father-” Not many had heard Jon both yell or speak with anger before and clearly Aegon was not prepared for it. 

“Your family has been wronged by mine, I know this. But I am the last of my line.” Connington’s eyes narrowed, as he looked to Aegon but he ignored that look and pushed forward speaking to Jon. 

Stannis however, did catch the look given and when both men caught the others gaze, there was something unsettled as Connington realized it. There was one other Targaryean, and if Stannis knew about her, then likely you did too. And Jon Connington did not feel good realizing how little Lord Varys had shared about these people to him beforehand. 

Aegon continued, and Jon looked no less angry. If Aegon stood taller in height, Jon stood far taller in demeanour and was much more intimidating. “Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were seen with peace and prosperity. A Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am The Last Dragon, Jon Snow. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North, like your father-” 

None noticed, but Ser Davos almost smirked. If purposely leaving Robb from his recounting of history was enough to make Jon this mad, then that final comment was the last of his patience. “I'm not standing here arguing about this. There’s no time for that, I don't time for any of this. I mean no offence, your grace, but I don’t know you.” 

This time, it was Stannis’s turn to find the amusement. Never once in their disagreements did Jon Snow ever use “your grace” in a drawn out, mocking tone. 

But he continued, stepping closer once more to Aegon as his eyes burned darker in black. “As far as I can see, your only claim to the throne rests entirely on your father and grandfather’s name, and my father fought to overthrow the Mad King. No amount of your empty apologies will make right what he did to my family. And certainly not what your father did to my aunt.” 

The room was quiet. No one spoke for a moment after that. If there was room for sorry in Aerys Targaryean burning Jon’s grandfather and uncle alive, there was not a single solitary room for forgiveness for what Rhaegar had done to his aunt Lyanna. 

Connington spoke after some quiet, Aegon and Jon not taking their eyes off the other the entire time as one brewed with a hesitant uncertainty and the other a deep, hardly contained anger. “King Stannis, I find it odd you are at this mans side. You hold to a claim to the Iron Throne through your brothers lineage, and yet how can you be the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms if you stand next to someone who has stolen the largest half of your Kingdom from you?” 

It wasn’t Jon who saw Robb that time, it was Stannis. And the mistake he spent a very long year and a half regretting. 

“I did not come here to fight, I came here to find any way to a truce...we have been dragged through the muck of your southern wars for far too long.”

He was calm though, and firm. “The North has been in open rebellion long before Jon Snow was King in the North. His brother Robb Stark claimed Northern independence first and I was ready to fight against him for it. Yet I am fighting at the side of his brother, the next King after him beacuse he has shown me that the true enemy lies far beyond that of King’s Landing.”

Aegon broke eye contact with Jon, and looked to Connington. So this was what he was to prepare himself to hear it seemed, but there was still enough spite from the past twenty four hours that something less then pleasant came rolling of his tongue instead of tucking it away, despite knowing he was better then petty insults. But it came out anyways. “And what does some bastard falsely calling himself King have any right to tell men like you or I what to do?” 

You had always called him Snow in playful teasing, and always with a true affection. Focus on that, Jon told himself. Focus on how that never mattered to you, and you made it easier to feel like it shouldn’t matter to him. Don’t stoop to Aegon’s level he warned himself. 

Ser Davos it seemed however, was the one who took up the mantle normally taken up by yourself in Jon’s honour. Defending him against leaving his image as nothing more then a bastard boy. 

“I know little of your life, your grace, but allow me to shed some light on his if you are so unfamiliar. Jon Snow is the first to make allies between wildlings and Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of some blood or birthright. He has no birthright, beacuse he is a damn bastard. But all those hard sons of bitches you fought against chose him as their leader because they believe in him. His brother didn’t name him his heir for any rights or honour, he did it beacuse he believed in him as his brother, as just a man who does the right thing.” 

It felt odd to Jon, hearing someone lay out their belief in him so blatantly, without prompt or question and he found little he could say to stop it. What would he say, he spent his entire life hearing people talk about him in the exact opposite manner, he had no idea how to take such praise. 

“All those things we’ve told you about, Lord Connington? He faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked everything, took a knife to the heart, gave his own life-”

Wide eyed and almost panicked did Jon turn to Davos and he stopped in a second. The air along the room suddenly turned strange as it was Jon, Davos, and Stannis all in a silent heavy air of something that seemed more serious then a story or rumour. 

Jon Connington had told Lord Varys if this King really died then he could come to his shores like a man and show him his heart himself, but he didn’t ever actually expect this as a reaction to such a crazy story to come up. 

But Jon took charge and swung the topic as far from what scars lay deep over his heart as possible. “I have seen things you would never imagine, your grace. Winter isn’t coming, it’s already here and if we keep standing here debating whose king of what, everyone we know will die before winter's over, if we don't defeat the enemy to the north.” 

You had told him that day on Bear Island that leadership suited him, that his talk alone of the threats to the North were impressive and he hoped that was not just mere flattery. Aegon looked at him, a squint in his eye of curiosity instead of judgment. “And what is the enemy to the north exactly?” 

Jon was blunt and no one on his side gave any remote hint of joke or a lack of seriousness. “The Others. They’re here. I’ve seen them, I’ve fought them and even killed one. And they are coming for us with an army of the dead and if we let them get passed the wall and we have no way to protect our own, the only thing that’ll be left to sit on the Iron Throne will be a frozen corpse, and all you’ll be ruling over is a graveyard.” 

Aegon's voice was far away as it was breathless in nerves. “The Others have been dead for eight thousand years.”

Stannis was the one to respond, a tone just as heavy as Jon’s beside him. “They have been asleep for eight thousand years. Now they aren’t.” 

His tone even, not quite skeptical but something that wasn’t convinced yet not dismissive either as he looked to Jon. “If your raven is to go by, I presume you think such an answer lays beneath the mines here on Dragonstone? What exactly is hiding under the rocks that has you believing it can beat these things?” 

“We can destroy them by burning them, and we can destroy them with dragonglass. That’s what I came here for, not to challenge you on this claim or that claim.” The roughness in his tone was one which sent shivers down Aegon’s spine and a steadfast anger in Jon to force people to listen for once. “I’m not asking us to get along. I’m giving you the chance to help fight for the living, fight with us. The same thing is coming for every single person in this realm whether you believe me or not. This is an army that won’t leave the dead on the battlefield. They will just raise them back up to fight against us.” 

It was quiet, and one last challenge was left on Aegon’s lips. “And you come to me with this story, and expect me to believe it without a shred of proof. If you want my help, Snow, maybe you shouldn't have come here with an army, and their damned family.” Aegons eyes meeting the dark and unblinking harshness of Stannis's.

Jon’s eyes narrowed. If he was to be so stubborn, he could always drag Aegon beyond the wall and let him look into the eyes of the Others himself. He was tired of this, tired of this nonsense. Of people looking at him and his people like they were crazy, only believing in scary bed side stories. Jon and Tormund lost a lot of good men, women, and children that day in Hardhome, and it had him clenching his jaw painfully that it felt as if these Southerners would have to force such a nightmare to happen to them to finally listen to him. 

Only, just as the three men stared the other down did an echoing sound crackle through the hall. The great doors kept watch by guards on the outside slowly begun to crawl open as the sunlight peeked in properly across the darkness of the stones. But as all men in the room turned to realize who had walked in, only one found intention. After all, it was only the night before the fresh wounds on both their persons were placed there in that very same room.

The Great Hall stood as empty as it was tall save for a small group by the main steps of the Lord’s seat above. The easiest to spot was Aegon, the hair a bold blue as eyes to match looked over with a rough contempt as you begun to walk into the hall, as Aegon himself begun to descend the small set of steps to the same level as yourself. 

Whatever quiet words were shared between the men behind him, it seemed the conclusion they came to was to once more let you and Aegon face off with one another. An anger in his eyes towards you matched yours to him.

You had no real weapon on you and from what you could see neither did he, but the sharp flash over both your eyes were cutting enough. Only the echo of footsteps was heard in the hall as you both met in the middle. Floods of fury and fire brewed between you both as there was nothing else in sight but the eyes of a son trying to seek the same control that tore down the family before him. 

Breaking the silence first his voice was more quiet then you expected, keeping the echo away and fluttering only enough that you could be heard here and no more then whispers elsewhere. “The Queen in the North graces us with her presence. I am relieved you could take the time out of your busy day to discuss such important matters.” 

Your face however, much like Stannis before you, moved none. A cold look shining from your eyes as a stern expression set itself in stone just before a glare. You hardly raised your tone above a slight whisper, dripping in a frustration at his tone. “It is no business of yours what I do with my time, in my home, Targaryean. I do not answer to you.” 

“Who do you answer to, the King in the North? Or considering you were the one to attack me last night, perhaps he’s more merely your guard dog.” If he wanted to rile you up, someone should have informed Aegon that the only thing that could truly have you in such dire straits is the memory of a pale blue eyes attached to a slimy voice that coated your skin in more filth then you knew even now how to wash away. 

Your eyes drifted across his person with only a barley noticeable narrowed of eyes before meeting his, nodding to his chest plate. “Am I the first to carve a dent into that?” 

His jaw twitched in it’s clench, and a condescension rolled from his very aura. “Every great warrior has to start somewhere, doesn’t he?” You could feel the pulsing of the cut along your person he left, as you looked at him, and see once more the rage behind his eyes as he looked to you as nothing more then a monster to abolish from once you came. 

“And yet the only ones the Seven Kingdoms ever speak of are your own kin. Strange how only greatness comes from you and none else ever get the chance to prove their worth.” Robb had spent three years winning a war of so many sides falling all onto his shoulders to burden, and he emerged as a great King and yet all any will speak of him is the tragedy stolen from his life. Aegon’s ancestors were all remembered for their victories, and yet your husband lay scattered across the Riverlands and none will remember what led him there in the first place.

Aegon almost smiled though, and you found yourself hating it. Perhaps you were finally understanding Robert so long after his death. “My family is the blood of Old Valyria. We were the great dragonriders who conquered these lands. We are destined for such fates by birthright, by blood-” 

“Your dragons destroyed these lands.” 

He seethed visibly, and you did in your blood and poured from your eyes that he caught himself. All eyes were on you, but enough feet were apart between that no danger was to intervene from but you felt them all the same and could not quell that feeling rising within your chest. And yet, your voice softened to something that he didn’t expect. Something genuine. 

You knew the story too well, and were he true or not to such a claim, it was his family that were the forgotten ones of the rebellion. “I imagine it's difficult for you, being here. Being so close to Kings Landing. It was cruel, and vile what was done to your mother, and your sister too.” It was so well hidden to most not a soul would have caught a waver in his throat. “They didn’t deserve what happened to them, no one does.”

The breathless vitriol was not to blame, and you wouldn’t. “Yet your uncle did nothing to stop it.” 

Robert Baratheon wept no tears and sung no songs for Elia Martell and Rhaenys Targaryean. He saw Elia as a dead Dornish woman to be forgotten, and Rhaenys as nothing but the offspring of what so many years alter was his mortal enemy, but you knew when to defend him and when not too. “Tywin Lannister did all that. Aerys Targaryean opened the gates and he sacked the city, his men did that to your family. Robert cared not about their remains but it was not his order to brutalize and dishonour them like animals. I know too well, no one deserves such fate.” 

If Aegon saw anything in your eyes, he found no capability to bleed sympathy for it, nor did you expect any too. You wanted it to be not your life as well. “And yet you think my father deserved his. No one cared to provide justice for my mother and sister, but you demean me for wishing to find that very thing for my own father.” 

You stared right through him. The question in your mind finally answered. Had Jon Connington ever admitted to Aegon that his father kidnapped Lyanna Stark? Had he admitted he raped her? No. The answer was no. There was not a world you could imagine someone finding a softness over the long deaths of a mother and sister he never knew, but idolized a father who committed such atrocities had he thought they were truth. 

“That is what you think? That true justice is redeeming the image of Rhaegar Targaryean to the very people whose lives he ruined beyond repair?” He swallowed again, and you felt something choking your throat as your eyes refused to blink despite the sting. “That includes you, Aegon. He left you in that city too, under the control of a father he knew would not let your mother and you both leave.” 

Aegon flushed, something uncomfortable in his own lungs scratching away at his defences. “That boy was not me. That was some tanner’s son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died giving birth. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of ale, and Lord Varys gave that boy to my mother, and took me to safety.” 

You didn’t blink, but you did feel for the sorrow to come. “And Rhaegar left you to die in that city with your mother and Rhaenys all the same. Tanner’s son or not, it was you he thought he was abandoning. And that’s the man you wish to be?” He swallowed and a redness almost poked through the colours behind his eyes as something bordering pity and empathy came into you and your voice. “I pray to the old gods and the new that you find it within yourself to become anyone but him. Dragons died for a reason, and it’s better we let it stay that way.”

Walking passed him, you brushed against his shoulder enough the material of your dark cloak ran across the overtly ornate design of his and Aegon didn’t turn to you in the slightest with any other word. You left early to think, and returned with that very thing shoved in your face to overwhelm the rest of it. All you could focus on to stay composed, was to wash off the grime of such a day, and start your work. 

Maybe the rest would leave you alone until you wouldn’t break the second you were faced with that same wonder that stunned you the night before. There were no similarities when you looked at Aegon, but you found fear asking you of looking over to double check in case it was too obvious to ignore upon looking his way, but resisted such an urge. Not here, not in front of all these people. 

You could feel Jon’s grey eyes following you the entire path as you left the Great Hall.

The path down to the level of the beaches was much faster this way. Many winding stairs were a steep but direct path down to the shores, the black stone leading into the dark rocks surrounding the landscape as only but small caverns and overhangs led to the sand surrounding out to the Narrow Sea. 

The climate was much more forgiving as your back current sat against such large rocks that blocked the path and sights around as your hair blew in the winds along with the flowing skirt of your dress as if asking to carry you up and whisk you across the waters to lands unknown. But instead you sat in the quiet as evening sun had begun to set behind you, leaving the skies ahead in a beautiful golden yellow turning almost light shades of a pink. 

Were you on the other side of the island, you would have held the object in your hand up to the setting sun, the books you had been scouring through spoke of dragonglass as being able to see the brightness in the sky without pain. Should you look up at it through what Maesters called obsidian. Instead it sat less shining or reflective in the shard twisted and turned in your hands. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked over it, trying to find any reason this was the thing which held answers to the realms foreboding danger. 

The ones being in your home once more brought to you felt nothing but like burdens at the rate this past day had brought. Fire, death, bloodshed, memories of painful pasts trying to force their way onto those not responsible in the present and an overlooking thought which threatened to consume you should you let it toxify in your mind too much. 

You only had a dream. You couldn't rely on that as truth. 

It wasn’t until the sounds of footsteps gently approaching hit your ears did you register that you had been cruel. How would it have felt were it you? He had every right to be angry at you for it, but as he chose to settle on the sands with his back against the rock beside you there wasn’t anger which waved off him. 

For a moment Jons eyes watched as yours did at the water, but not too long passed between until he gently opened his hand out to it. Silently you gave it to him, only then did the strength to look at him find you. Your eyes following as his brought up up to look closely at and yours continued that path to find his face. 

A few smaller scratches sat across his cheek from what you could see at this angle, but all else as you looked at Jon did you find was the same thing you’d always seen looking at him. Nothing hiding inside but the man you love. And you felt more cruel yet a sighing relief at such a fact. 

“Theon told me what you had been doing all day.” 

You nodded before realizing he wasn’t actually looking to see it. Only leaning a bit closer so that you could feel his arm brush against yours as you spoke quiet by his side. “I have some assembling a number of men now, and come morning they will start on the mine we worked on today. The longer it takes us to start, the longer it takes us to get home.” 

Jon ran his thumb over the flat end of the shard, eyes foggy as his voice was rasping at a distance trying to gently murmur your name, but you beat him to it with a heavier heart then you think he suspected. “I’m so sorry.” 

Finally his eyes met yours, the grey in them washing over with something confused but also upsetting in a way. “Sorry? What would you have to be sorry for?” 

Your own were already with a bit of a red sting, and your cracked throat wavered in speech. “Leaving you like that. After...after the night we had and then you wake up alone and I’m gone all day..it was a horrible thing to do. You would’ve never done it to me, I shouldn’t have done it to you.” 

Jon put the shard of Dragonglass down without a second thought, turning to look at you more and it made you feel so much worse at the ease in which the hurt sat in his bright eyes. One of his hands coming up to run along the side of your face until reaching your cheek. “I only want you to tell me what I said or did that you didn’t like next time instead of avoiding me.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as he ran this thumb back and forth over the gentle skin. “Last night, I clearly did something to scare you off. Was I too rough?” He hesitated before swallowing harsh but he looked back into your much more stinging red eyes. “Was it what I said about marrying you?” 

You hadn’t realized you were shaking your head until the motion was urgent, hand flying up to grasp at his and finding yourself pushing the fabric between his sleeve and glove to run your own thumb along his pulse. The other turning to face him more as you shifted more onto your calves, “No, it wasn’t you. You didn’t do or say anything wrong..I just..I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you and later I just..”

“Got carried away?”

You nodded, letting go of his wrist as your own dropped into your lap. A shy glint hiding behind your eyes that caught Jons attention much more. The truth was not far off, but there was a medium you needed to pull him too. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m so sorry.” 

But Jon didn’t need anything else, he didn’t want an argument or a detailed answer or even for you to grovel. Instead choosing to pull you into his side, your head finding a home resting against his shoulder as you were leaned into him completely. One of your arms wrapping around his instead of letting him keep it across your back as the other rested along his forearm. Another quieter whisper from your lips passed the air against the wind and waves. “You were perfect, I’m sorry I made you worry you had done anything wrong. I promise it is the opposite.” 

For a good moment it was quiet between the two of you, the world never allowing you such quiet moments together it felt like. Not ones you could enjoy so freely. Never would you have imagined sitting on the shores of Dragonstone with Jon, being free to cuddle into his side with no scare of being caught. It was hard to get used too, being allowed to be seen as his. 

Jon was quiet when he finally spoke, “You don’t have too.” Your brows narrowed in question but didn’t move away from him. “Marry me, I mean. I shouldn’t have said it, I’m not trying to pressure you into it or..” His eyes closed for a moment and the weight was felt mutual between both of you. “I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to replace Robb.” 

If his voice had rasped out quietly, your own whisper was breathless and somehow even quieter after a good minute passed in the winds. “I don’t love one of you more then the other. Robb will always be part of me, and there wasn’t a second I was with him where what we shared wasn’t pure. He deserved to be loved and I wanted to be that for him. But you deserve to be loved as well.” 

Pulling his arm through the gentle hold you had, Jon properly wrapped an arm around you and tugged you right up into his side, your hands drifting across his front. One closer to his waist and the other drifting up and down where you both knew the scars sat. His voice a husk in your ear, “You can keep your name.” A hum left your throat as Jon turned to bury part of his face into your hair like a crutch of muffling support. “You took Robb’s name when you married him. You should keep that. There isn’t much honour in going from a Stark to a Snow.” 

This time you pulled from him with something frustrated in your eyes, and a wide insecurity in his that was softer then he had any right being. But as you sat there, your heart begged and pleaded. He did everything for everyone else, and for once you weren’t going to let him deny something that he never thought he’d have. “I became a Stark when I married Robb, but marrying you means I’m marrying you. You’re a Snow, which would make me one. That’s all there is too it-”

He swallowed harshly, a tear in his voice from years of something he tried to bury. “I can’t ask you to do that. Or make you force that onto our children.” Shaking his head slightly, he fought between pulling away from you and burying his face in your neck but chose to stay quite still, looking out to the waving tides rippling gold across the waters. “I used to be so scared of getting you pregnant. Always fighting how much I wanted to know what being with you would be like, and how much I knew any child we accidentally had, would be a Snow. How much everyone would look down on you for it, hate me for ruining your honour. How much everyone would judge whatever son or daughter we had for what I did to you. That’s why I wasn’t ready that day, why I hesitated. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d be ruining my own child’s life just beacuse I wanted to be with his mother.” 

That day was still vivid for both. You had found fear that was normal for woman, whatever gentle and innocent touches and pleasure you had explored together were nothing compared to the act itself of sex. You were too scared of it at the time, and you hated the idea of disappointing Jon beacuse of it.

“I had a lot other boys didn’t, but it didn’t change that being a bastard was lonely, and miserable. I thought, that's no life for a child. Would always think that whatever children you had deserved so much more.” 

You had never really spoken about it, not so directly, but the panic in your veins of that moment and what you begged of Robb in that anxiety and hurt never left you. It never left you how much your desperation had scared him, and how much you both looked to the other with such love and hope when he assured you. 

“Tell me we’ll love him, our son, tell me that we’ll both be here to love him.” 

The way Robb pulled you into his arms, resting your face soothingly in his neck as his hand ran gently across your then smooth, healthy stomach with a son named Ned. 

“We will love him, together. It’s not just you and me now. It’s us. All three of is, now and always. 

Your own voice cracked and it caught Jon’s attention, the sting in his eyes whipping over to yours as you now were the one looking to the sea. “When I finally told Robb I was pregnant-” 

“Finally?” You turned to him slightly and he pushed passed the water in your eyes to as, “You said when you finally told him. You kept it a secret?” 

Nodding, you wiped at the tears. Fruitlessly knowing more would fall in their place. “We were deep in the Westlands, marching onto Harrenhal, Theon had betrayed us..Catelyn had went behind our backs and released Jaime Lannister,” 

You continued on, but that was simply one more tidbit of a story Jon knew not a thing about. A memory that did come to him though, was the only time he’d ever spoken to him. At the time, he thought he was being mocked. Speaking to him like a boy who knew nothing of the world and that he was a fool for taking the black. But he also had mentioned you. 

Telling him he hoped Jon had gotten a “Nice, good pretty eyeful of her while you still have the chance. Beyond the reach of the law once you swear your vows, right? Do one last dishonourable thing with such a pretty girl before you never can again.” 

Turning to look intently at you, he did briefly feel shame thinking how beautiful you looked with tears running down your cheeks. Letting yourself express your heart so painfully when alone with him in ways you so rarely ever let yourself even feel. “I was so scared he was going to be mad. That I was adding one more thing onto his shoulders but then I told him..and for the first time in a very long time..I finally felt like home. I felt like I found something I truly wanted.”

But he knew, you didn’t just look shocked that day these visions collided at the same instance, you almost looked devastated. “All I could think of was, how much I didn’t want our child to ever grow up the way you were forced to. That no matter where we were or what our lives looked like, I wanted our son to have Robb and I there for him, to know he was always loved no matter what.” You inhaled shakily before finally coming to what was caught in your throat. “You never had to be called a Stark for me to love you, and me being a Snow, our children being a Snow doesn’t change that. We’ll love them together, and that’s what matters. Anyone else has a problem with their name, we could always throw them off the top of the wall.” 

Jon actually laughed, a bright charming smile as he laughed deeply. You had been spending too much time with Tormund.

Turning your face by your cheek to look at him, you found one of your hands reaching to run gently along his facial hair at his jaw in return. Running his thumb along your cheek before his voice came out low but full but in a tint of playfulness, “Don’t imagine Stannis and Selyse are going to be very happy having their grandchild be called Snow.” 

Leaning so your breathe would dance along his skin as you spoke, you moved the touch on his jaw to run light as a feather across his bottom lip with a breathy laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve never done anything that’s made them happy before, no reason to start trying now.” 

Jon shook his head, but was the one to pull you into a kiss first anyways. Cupping the back of your head as it almost instantly was more heated then the tears on your cheeks would ask for. Only pulling from your lips long enough to murmur against them with a chuckle, “We are a mess, aren’t we?” You breathily laughed into him back, letting him return right back to kissing you deep enough you had to settle your hands on his shoulders to keep from falling back. 

Wrapping an arm around you, Jon beckoned you to stand up with him. Only giving perhaps half a second for you to keep steady on two feet before that arm moved to your hip, and his other hand slid to hold you partially by your jaw and neck as he pushed you into the rocks behind.  

Crowding you in an instant his kiss deepened, already leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded against him. His lips were always so utterly soft and yet they also were so rough with you, leaving a tingling against them as he bit at your bottom lip before kissing you deep once more. Your hands slid up his chest and wrapped gently behind his neck. His tongue gently running across your lips and yet as you went to grant him permission, Jon pulled back enough to bite your lip to pull a gasp. 

Only sliding his tongue into your mouth as you did so, the hand on your neck tilting you up to surrender to him. Tongue brushing with yours and hand pulling your hip more as he pressed his hips into you. He swallowed the whine with a growl as you felt him harden beneath the layers. Jon pulled more and more whines into his mouth from you, kissing you rougher and deeper every instance after he would grind his covered cock into you harsher. The hand on your neck moving down, reaching to your other hip and almost shifting you both to be at his mercy. 

Slightly now leaning over you against the rocks behind, your hips pressed into the front of his as he pulled back from your lips. Red and swollen as his eyes black scouring the bite marks he left against your own lips. Consuming you with his dark, unmoving eyes as he knew you were growing more wet under the simple layers of your dress. One hand pressed beside your head as he leaned in, his cock twitching against you as he grew harder and harder every rut. 

His voice rasped deep and sultry as his eyes looked sharp and narrowed down at you, “Always loose my mind with I’m with you..” Leaning more so his lips brushed against yours but still stared you down, his strength alone enough you couldn’t move away from him if you tried. If the twitch of his cock spoke anything, he enjoyed that you looked almost on the air of intimidated, only able to breathlessly gaze up at him in a needy awe as you burned the more he grinded his hard, covered cock against you. “I get anywhere near you,” The hand on your hip grasped the skirt of your dress as you whimpered at the force and yanked it up almost exposing you entirely were Jon not right against you, “All I can think of is how I shouldn’t have any duties that aren’t burying my cock deep inside you.” 

You knew Robb said things like that to be vulgar, to tease how weak it made you. But you shivered at the darkness in Jon’s eyes, and how he almost barely seemed to register he said anything. That all this only spilled out of his mouth not to rile you up, but beacuse it was so deep in his brain that it came out on instinct. It didn’t used to be this intense between you, but all your brain told you to do was submit. 

Submit like a good mate and let your White Wolf do whatever he wanted, but there was something else still hiding in your mind. Something that knew he’d never ask for it again. He never asked in the first place, but you desperately wanted to give back. Make Jon feel good beacuse he deserved to. 

So your hands at his chest gently pushed him back. Not enough to move him or to even give you much in the way of room. But enough to press a light kiss to his lips and a tender loving one on his neck as you whispered, letting your hands run down his chest. “I want to make you feel good first.” 

His face twisted slightly as if not realizing what you meant as he rasped, “You always make me feel good, darling.” But that wasn’t what you meant, and Jon only grasped it as he muttered a very light, almost inaudible, “..fuck..” as you so gently and almost with a pure and innocent softness bright in your eyes, let him keep you pressed tight against the rocks as you dropped to your knees.

Jon swallowed harshly, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up to the sky as if pleading for mercy as you ran your hands so gently along his thighs and hips like a massage. Not moving at all to pull him out until he looked back down at you, that same plead silently asking you to get up for him but you stayed kneeled. “Jon,” His hand ran along the sides of your hair, “Please, will you let me make you feel good? Can I suck your cock?” 

Inhaling deeply, Jon’s jaw clenching so tight he ran hand along your hair now cupping the back of your head, he seemed to not risk anything, saying nothing. Only nodding yes, as he raked along your hair as you so carefully moved. Only giving enough room to pull his cock out as it already sat hard, red and leaking cum. Gently, you licked almost like a kitten at the thickness along him, before running your tongue and lips down the length of his cock with as much gentle touch a you did everything else. 

Something burned in your chest, desperate to just show him a pleasure he always deserves but so rarely ever let himself have. Slowly letting your tongue brush the length of his cock before licking his tip once more. Eyes sliding shut as you slowly took him into your mouth, a deep grunt trapped in his chest trying not to lose it. Ever so slowly, you let the saliva build up in your mouth as you took him inch by inch, your hands flexing as you held by his hips. 

You almost had no choice but to take him deep, so little room was behind you including his hand in your hair. Jon was breathing heavily above you to keep collected and feeling like he wasn’t succeeding. A low hum in your throat vibrated against his cock, something that both overwhelmed your senses letting him slide deep into your mouth but truly didn’t want to stop. 

Almost two thirds of the way, you begun to bob your head along him, sucking him as with each slide inside your mouth deep did Jon’s hand on your hair tighten. Not controlling your movements, but almost keeping himself grounded as his muscles tensed. 

He was heavy on your tongue, and your jaw already aching from the stretch but you whined at the feeling of him deep enough that it once more tested your inner panic. Taking the rest of his cock until he reached the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the coarse hair around the base of him you slid almost all the way of his length before smoothly gliding back as deep. Each pull back on his cock you sucked him with your own need making your thighs ache to press together.

There was something about being with you that made Jon feel as if you continued to bring things out in him he never knew would rile him up this much. Being outside, one could come across the two of you, and see their fierce and headstrong Queen so willingly down on her knees before the King in the North. Something perverse in Jon almost found the idea of someone catching you two like this appealing. As if it made him feel ever more turned on, as if he dared anyone to catch you both, fighting the fantasy in his veins if someone did see. 

You wouldn’t even know if someone was watching, not while you were soaking his cock deep in your warm mouth, and he wondered if you two were caught, would Jon even try and pull you off him? 

Or would he let the possessive wolf inside him, force them to watch, knowing that seeing you so eagerly sucking Jon’s thick cock would be the closest any would or could ever get to having you for themselves. Jon knew if he were a worse man, he may have chained and gagged Ramsay and forced him to watch you give everything to Jon that the vile man tried taking violently from you.

Take you apart with every bit of sanity you had left until Jon’s touch was all which would keep you tethered to the earth. And only killing Ramsay once he finished watching Jon take for himself, everything that the man wrongly thought belonged to him. 

If it were possible, the image of getting caught as Jon was slid so deep in your mouth, or just as he came heavily down your sweet, sensitive throat, made him almost throb harder.

He still was trying to stay quiet, couldn’t bury his grunts or growls in your kiss and all he could do was try and not to shove your head right back down to take his entire length. Gritting his teeth as his knuckles turned white gripping your hair, he felt himself clawing closer and closer to the end. 

You felt his cock throbbing in your mouth, and you only felt both the desperate beg inside to give you a moment to breathe but also finding yourself more eager to help coax him to that end. Wanting him to feel good the way he always insisted doing for you instead. 

Murmuring your name, Jon was trying to pull you off his cock and through a rough husking tone he hissed out as your mouth soaked him, “You- gods you really want me like this, you want me to spill down your throat?” Like he couldn’t comprehend why you would actually want to swallow his cum, the thick, warm seed that you had no logical way of explaining in the moment, that you desperately needed. 

Only, just as Jon begun to call out your name, he throbbed inside your mouth and looked down at you with a clenched jaw breathing heavily. “You’re too good to me. So fucking good, my beautiful girl..you don’t have to do this..I just..fuck, I only need your cunt..” 

But as you took him deeply, you felt him pull your head close to his hips, once again pressed right up against the dark hair around the base of his cock, and this time it was your whimper that did him in. A gentle hold on his hips and a tender moan around him had Jon shake. Spilling deep down your throat with a rasping growl of your name, his hand kept you pressed as deep as he could sink in your mouth but he almost massaged your hair, raking through it more gentle then he had any right being as he fed you all of his thick cock’s seed. 

You moaned and the muffled gag of you trying to swallow all of him, feeling almost more worked up at how good it felt and how wet it made you, to feel him spill so deeply down your throat and into your stomach. 

But he wasn’t done once he pulled you off, no, this time Jon yanked you up to your feet. Shoving you against the wall as he hovered over you, pulling the skirt of your dress up only enough to grasp hold of the thin fabric covering you from him. 

In Jon’s mind he couldn’t hear or see the world around him, only you. And the feeling of your covering soaked did Jon hide his face in your neck. Biting and kissing roughly as he tore the fabric off of you, pressing you into the rocks more when you whined against him. 

One hand moved under the flowing fabric to run his cock along your soaking wet entrance while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you into an urgent kiss. Jon sparing not much time before he sunk his cock as deep as he could. Using his hold to shove you more against the rock, keeping one of your legs bent up and wide as he never pulled any more then a few inches out of you. 

Your insides twisted like a coiling metal ready to snap as Jon kissed you, your own hands unable to do anything but grasp at his shoulders. All but forcing your lips to part so he could slide his tongue in your mouth, Jon begun to thrust up into you, but this wasn’t the slow start he took his time with. 

He kept a hand behind your head keeping you against the mercy of his kiss as the other kept you stretched wide for him as Jon pounded into you. Were the tides and waves not mixing with the covers of wind, someone might have heard the desperate sound of Jon moving to kiss down your neck. Not even with bites, just presses of lips as he felt his heart desperate to just have you close.

Cock pounding into you fast, and somewhat rough especially keeping you on a gasping, pleading edge of his name as the sensitivity of your walls were dragged along once more. Every time his cock was deep you felt no more breathe in your lungs. Hands urgently pulling his hair loose, Jon shifted you up more so you could bury your face between his hair and in his neck and holding onto him tightly with little more then moans. 

He asked nothing of you, only holding you there as he fucked into your soaked cunt almost coating his cock even more with your own wetness that were he to have you alone in a room would have been a beautiful soaking sound each time his hips slapped into yours. 

It looked like nothing more but a desperate, fast and rough fuck but Jon held you and you held him back burying the other to hide close. Jon holding your head close hiding in your hair as he felt you clench around him and only then did he pull back enough. Making you look at him as you were dangled on his cock asking to let you cum, Jon’s eyes less black and more of a needing grey as he whispered roughly and raspily to you, “It’s alright, darling, you can let go. I want you to cum for me, I promise, please cum for me..I need to feel you, I need you so much..” 

Your head only nodded as something close to tears wanted to fall at how raw his voice mixed lust and a gentle need while his cock sped you towards an orgasm and as soon as you gasped, grasping his hair and pleading his name did he find his own end only seconds after your own orgasm snapped bright and flooding passionately within you. Clenching hard around him whimpering his name meekly.

Spilling deeply inside of you as you clenched and soaked his cock, he kept you on him the entire length sunk so deep inside you as he shook against you. Both burying your faces into the others neck and hair until you felt every last bit of his thick, warm cum spill deeply inside. 

Breathing heavily against one another, Jon kissed you gently when you whimpered as he pulled out of your cunt. Your skirt dropping back down to cover you while you gently pulled away from him enough to cover him back up properly as well. 

Still breathing heavily, your hands fell to his waist as Jon’s ran along your hair before tilting you up for a kiss. Not greedy or pushing, but an intimate kiss that spoke of love you had so long had to pretend never existed. Pulling away to press one against your forehead before resting against yours with his until he knew you were calming back down to earth. 

His voice was strained and rough as he spoke quietly through a gentle laugh. “Seven hells..I don’t know what came over me, I'm sorry..” You laughed back more freely, a charming brightness in his eyes as you both laughed against one another much more innocently for the desperate fuck just seconds earlier. 

You ran your hand through his hair, looking up to his bright grey eyes. “Why do I suspect you aren’t actually that sorry?” 

His grin grew brighter, kissing you once more as he whispered playfully against your lips. “Probably beacuse I’m not.” Leaving another kiss to your lips, and then to your forehead as he tilted you down to leave it there, your hands pressed along his chest before he pulled you into his arms.

If Jon had decided he was sure about one thing, it was what he said after everything was settled the night before. Brewing moontea for you as he had you lay under the sheets to relax, knowing no matter what you claimed of feeling fine, he had gone more rough then he intended. Telling you almost casually, that he wasn’t getting you pregnant for the first time anywhere but his own bed in Winterfell. 

He was however, as the two of you made your way back up to the castle, considering to what degree of uncomfortable a conversation would it be to go back to Maester Pylos so soon. There was no getting around that he was going to know that perhaps Jon had an appetite for you a bit more high and demanding then what the man was expecting on the first request for it.

Jon knew he felt eyes, but had no idea that there had been more then one pair, watching the entire time you had been passionately wrapped up in each other along the isolated shores of Dragonstone. 

One pair of eyes that almost crawled like a spider, but the other was one that none could guess. 

[some-pers0n]

I honestly feel like Coral’s and Gill’s relationship with each other is quite unhealthy. Or at least, it gradually became that way after Orca’s death and Orca’s statue killing off Coral’s daughters, which probably resulted in Coral to become more emotionally unstable.

Because Gill and Coral have very different point of views when it comes to their subjects and sons, in a way that makes me feel like they’re shouldn’t in a relationship with each other.

Gill sincerely cares about and loves his sons, while Coral doesn’t give a crap about them because “they can’t inherit the throne”.

And Gill loves and cares about his subjects and mourns them when they die, while Coral doesn’t care about the majority of them, and brutally murders the guards of the royal hatchery for not being able to protect her eggs, regardless of the context and/or reason why they weren’t able to do so.

And it doesn’t help that Coral believes in Classism and “genetic superiority” too, which probably determines how much Coral “cares” about her subjects as well.

So because of the fact that Gill is in a relationship with a Queen who doesn’t give a crap about the people Gill loves - and even the fact that Coral is a horrible dragon by way she is - honestly makes me feel their relationship is quite unhealthy, and that Gill deserves someone much better than her.

This honestly also makes me think about why Gill stayed with Coral in the first place. Did he stay with her because still loves her, despite the horrible dragon that Coral is? Did he decide to stay with her because if he didn’t, Coral possibly wouldn’t be let Gill go back to the deep sea palace, so he’ll never really be able to see his sons ever again? Did he stay with her because without him being in Coral’s life or because of him breaking up with her, it’ll result in her to act more violent towards other dragons within their Kingdom? And/or does he possibly even decide to stay with her, because if he states that he wants to break up with her, she’d be angry with him and possibly maybe even harm him for attempting to do so?

Although I may of gone a bit too far stating some of the possibilities I mentioned about why Gill would stay with Coral,

The possible unhealthy parts of their relationship honestly makes me very curious about them being together, to the point I may at even want to see Gill’s point of view of their relationship possibly being unhealthy within the series a bit more, despite him appearing within three books in WoF so far.

So anyways, yeah. Because of what I mentioned above, I honestly feel like their relationship at some point of time became unhealthy or possibly even always was unhealthy at the start.

Also, because of the fact that I wrote this opinion down, I honestly want to put in this opinion on Coral and Gill’s relationship in w-o-f-c, so feel free to let me know whether or not that’s ok with you if you want.

Also feel free to take all the time you need to reply to this ask! Since I know it’s pretty long as well. :)

Honestly major props for writing this out! This is one of the best analysis pieces I've seen of their relationship. They're so fascinating to look at. They react to the situations in similar, yet different ways. They're just. yeah. Grgrgrhhh,,,it makes me think so much.

[ave1dragon]

Today in: Wings of Fire headcanons made to work with my oc even though the canon is different:

The Skywing Arena is used for whatever the Queen wishes, not just for fighting. Queen Firestorm used it for art and beauty shows. Queen Scarlet uses it for fighting, and Queen Ruby uses it for a hospital.  

While the Sky kingdom is big, most Skywings live close to the palace. All eggs are hatched in the palace hatchery, and all dragonets are raised in the wingery.   

Skywings kill any dragonets with Fire scales or Animus magic out of fear that said dragon will grow up to kill everyone, although this law is changing with Queen Ruby. The parents of said dragonets would never have anymore dragonets. They did not kill the dragonet with too little fire until Queen Scarlet's time.

Skywings believe in offering their dead to the sky for seven days before being burned, so that the dead dragon reincarnates as a Skywing and not any other kind of dragon.  

Skywings are very religious and have a preists who have a lot of power. There is a priest in each town and a high priest who is second only to the queen. The priests are chosen by the previous priests and receive ten years of training. The priests not only conduct religious rites, but are also judges, healers, scholars and teachers, and mediators between arguing dragons and towns. The priest is always female and unlike Sandwing priestess, can get married.    

In the past, before Queen Firestorm’s time, The Skywings had a ceremony called the Clash of Claws tournament. Every seven years, Skywings across the kingdom appeared from across the kingdom to compete in seven challenges over seven days. The first day is Flame, all qualities are tested, the next is Endurance, a token is left on top of the tallest mountain in the kingdom, and the contestants must race to find it starting from the palace. This tests speed, stamina, and resistance to the cold. The third test is strength, Skywings lift heavy boulders from the Diamond Spray River, fly as high as they can, and throw the boulder as far as they can. The fourth test is cunning, elaborate mazes are constructed with secret rooms filled with treasure, the competitors must find this treasure while avoiding the traps, the winner finds the most treasure. Five is the test of Guile, find a scavenger, the most cunning of prey, and bring it back alive and unharmed. Sixth is the test of Wit, each competitor must correctly answer a series of riddles made by the Queen and her advisors. Seventh is a test of speed, a race to see who is the fastest Skywing.     

Skywings can either choose a partner or go through a program to be matched up by the queen. Skywing marriages were traditionally two dragons saying a few ritual words in the sky, with no other dragon around. After Queen Scarlet took the throne, she made all weddings celebrations and all celebrations with deadly gladiator battles, so Skywings stopped getting married. The Skywings didn’t want Scarlet to partner them, so most Skywings stopped partnering up instead.  

While Noble Skywings don’t put much value into family, the more commoner Skywings do and are often close to each other even after moving out.

Neither common nor noble Skywings are very romantic and marriages are mostly for lineage and dragonets

@wof-reworked had a Skywing headcanon that each Skywing family had a particular naming system, like all being named after different types of birds. The dragonets are named using the mother’s family’s naming system.

Skywings are one of the more religious tribes, so their schools’ teachings include the Skywing religious beliefs and legends.

Skywings mostly marry for dragonets and political reasons in the case of nobility, so they are generally not interested in romance as a tribe. However, they are very close to their friends in a way that more romantic tribes like the Seawings and Sandwings mistake as romance.

Skywings tend to be close to each other, despite the size of the Kingdom, as all Skywings are raised in the Wingery until age 2, and all Skywing dragonets must go to the Sky palace between the ages of 4 and 8 for battle training.  

Since the Sky Kingdom is so big, every town has its own noble family that reports back to the queen. The leader of these noble houses is picked out by the old leader on their death bed, instead of fighting to the death like queens do. The leader is also always female.

[qibilette]

Your voice claims made me realize that you haven't really talked about what you're doing with the RainWing queens, so I'm passing you a "free to ramble about your rewrite" card across the table :3

YAYYYYYYYYYY THANK YOU

firstly: i approach all of the queens as a series of leadership examples that the dragonets of destiny learn from to judge the options for sandwing queen. the rainwings queens are all examples of negligent leaders - they're varying levels of good-to-bad, but none of them go after the missing rainwings and they all put their own desires before the kingdom's best interest.

other than that, theyre kind of my wildcard group to explore different dynamics & ideas! i tried to give all of them a specific Thing theyre passionate about. here they are ->

queen magnificent - has hear rumors of war and prophecy beyond the rainforest, she believes in it but is wary of changing the status quo & endangering her people by getting involved - enjoys being personal with citizens and traveling to visit different villages - most well-known rainwing queen

queen splendor - generally friendly and loving, she's heavily involved in inter-rainforest trade and travels a lot for it - uninterested in outside affairs and tends to micromanage when working on trade routes

queen grandeur - the oldest queen - rather stuck-up and a strong defender of "rainwing ideals", she wants everything to stay exactly as it is and gets cold with those who believe otherwise - she works a lot with wingeries and hatcheries - she gets along well with exquisite

queen fruit bat - kind, public, and casual, she works with gardens and food production and leaves the rest to everyone else - she's also a huge supporter of the arts! her pet project is perfumery and she smells delightful

queen exquisite - she doesn't believe the war exists and is generally obnoxious and xenophobic; she thinks the dod are here to drag the rainwings out of isolation and into danger for no reason - she cares a lot about the rainforest and is known for promoting animal safety and education - she gets along well with grandeur

queen dazzling - confident, charming, and envious, she seeks out pleasure in all things and focuses her life around that - she's easy to bribe and placate and some dragons take advantage of this to get special treatment

i've actually revamped the rainwings (and glory's arc) quite a bit, but i'll save that for another post :] tysm for sending an ask!!! asks are always open if anyone has questions or comments!

[new-kit-on-the-block]

Spoilers for The Dragonet Prophecy

I've decided to get into Wings of Fire, starting with a graphic novel version of the first book that I found at Barnes & Noble.

I just finished reading it, and I've also decided to catalog all of the thoughts I have about each book right after I read them. I'm gonna do it all in this post, one reblog at a time.

Here we go.

The Dragonet Prophecy:

I really like Clay's flat arc. The fact that, in the first book, the first thing we learn about him and the last thing we learn about him is the same piece of information twice, just framed under a different context will drive me insane for the rest of my life.

Seriously, there are 13 fucking books left for me to read, I cannot be getting so hung up over a single detail in book number one(1).

I wanted to see Tsunami beat up more dragons, but alas. From what I can glean, the second book will focus more on her. So maybe I'll get my wish after all.

Welp. Starflight's a double agent now. And I get the feeling that they're going to get a lot of mileage out of that when it comes to internal conflict. It's a pity that I didn't find him too interesting in this one, but I'll just have to assume they're saving all of that for a bit later in the series. We're still only in the world-building phase, after all.

Sunny's cute. Wish she was given more time to shine.

Same with Glory. But at least she got to kill someone.

It really seems like they were banking on the hopes that they would be able to publish a lot of books and would have plenty of time to flesh out the five dragonets later. Fortunately, like I said, there are 13 books left. And that's just the main series.

Hoping to see everyone get plenty of chances to shine. (Please please please tell me that they do. Please don't let this age poorly.)

The only name I knew going into this was Scarlet, who I've heard is just an absolute monster throughout the series. Excited to see how much more they can make me hate her.

Jesus fucking Christ that dude just fucking killed himself by hugging Peril. That shit was brutal.

Anyway, I really like Peril. Once again, wanted to see a lot more of her.

I also like the obvious parallels already being drawn between Peril and Clay. They were both introduced as having killed/tried to kill their sibling when they hatched. And then within the same book, both of those things were proven to be untrue.

It's pretty obvious they're setting up a ship between them, but it's a damn cute ship, so that's fine by me.

I really really like that the four of them keep consistently reminding Glory that they think she's pretty, as well as constantly reassuring her that they don't think she's lazy or stupid. Love me some siblings being collectively supportive of their extremely self-deprecating sister. I think she's shaping up to be my favorite of the five. With Tsunami being a close second. Make no mistake: I love them all.

Also, Tsunami coming from the Seawing Queen's hatchery is the funniest shit ever. She spends the whole book making jokes like "Maybe I'm the lost Seawing Princess or something Xp" and then right at the end Kestrel's just like "Yeah, no, you totally are." AND THEN SHE JUST FUCKING LEAVES

"Definitely our bigwings." Aww~ What a cute way to close off the first book :)

KESTREL'S DEAD?????

Anyway, great book. Can't wait to get my hands on the second one.

[ashes-writing-corner]

So yesterday I brought up the idea of writing a dragon rider/fantasy AU and come up with basic ideas/headcanons for it. I'm here this morning to do just that, starting with Simon and his dragon Brightfire because I'm biased, obviously lol

Simon and Brightfire Headcanons

Simon

1. Was (supposedly) abandoned as a baby on the steps of the Dragon's Keep because of a deformity of his skin.

2. He has patches of scales on various parts of his body, including his face which is why he wears the mask in this AU.

3. Lives in Dragon's Keep, serving as guardian to the hatchery, but is every so often commanded to go out and do work for Nova (the dragon queen who raised him), which he does gladly, as it's mostly spying or the VERY rare occasional assassination.

4. Is known as the Dragon Keeper because of his position, as the only human to live in Dragon's Keep. People have also taken to calling him the Ghost of Dragon's Keep, as some folks believe he's not even really alive because of his quiet and somewhat unnerving nature.

5. Was raised by Nova alongside other hatchlings, so he sees the youngest dragons as his siblings. He respects the older dragons, viewing them as uncles, aunts, and cousins.

6. While most respect Simon for his position, others see him as a sort of pariah, someone who rejected his own humanity to live alongside the scaled, fire breathing beasts.

7. Not so secretly admires Princess Lyra, heir to the throne of Athana, who treats Simon like anyone else, and is his best/only human friend at the beginning of the story.

8. Is the last of the group to get a dragon, as he feels he doesn't deserve one and he doesn't feel like they should be used that way. He doesn't mind that Riders exist, he just thinks there's a few ethical issues surrounding it.

9. As the closest to the dragons, he knows the most about them (how they think, how their culture is structured, etc), and he knows their stories and myths. He's remarkably tight lipped about it, unless given permission from Nova to give this information to his fellow Riders.

10. Is chosen by Brightfire due to his bloodline and the parallels between them...

Brightfire

1. After Nova, he's probably the oldest dragon in existence.

2. Was the first dragon to ever be ridden by a human, and together they started the Riders.

3. According to legend, he and his Rider used the last of their power to imprison a great evil that threatened the kingdom, and potentially the world, so everyone at first thinks he's dead.

4. Bright has lived as mostly a wild dragon since his Rider died, losing most of his "human" side and living/thinking more like an animal for the past two millenia.

5. Was also raised by Nova, though he isn't biologically hers. Like Simon, he still feels a sense of loyalty to her.

6. Hasn't made an appearance in two millenia and most people think he's dead, though he often showed up in Simon's dreams carrying a dire warning.

7. While all dragons have a sort of telepathy, Bright can project his thoughts and feelings into others around him, not just his Rider. In a sort of mirror to this, Simon can understand all dragons, regardless of whether or not their Rider is present, while other Riders can only understand their own individual mount.

8. Has a hard time trusting most humans, but is deadly loyal to Simon and, a little later, princess Lyra. He also grows to care deeply for Price, Gaz, and Soap.

9. His fire is white, with streams of gold and silver in it.

10. He technically should be the biggest dragon in existence, after Nova, due to having unlimited space and food, but because of his fractured mind, Bright's growth is paused until he meets and has his first flight with Simon.

And there we have it! I have the others planned out too, if anyone wants to see anyone else! All dragon pictures I include in this series are drawn by Kenny Kwan Brenes (kennykwanarts on Instagram, seriously go show them some love because their dragon art work is just...immaculate!) I don't own the art, I just own ideas for dragon characters and a few human characters. Thank you ^^

[kristinakyidyl]

The Dragons that Never Were

A little bit ago I did a series of illustrations wherein I speculated how the dragons born from the five described post-extinction eggs might look, along with a short piece about them. Following this, I posted it with the art on AO3, where I expanded and refined each bit of fic. So I'm going to collect them here, including two new pieces of art and arranged in chronological order. As before, there is the art followed by a short piece of fiction written in the style of Fire and Blood.

The Youngest dancer: Laena and Hurax

During the dance, the green-and-silver egg of Maelor Targaryen made its way to the Hightower, where it was given over to the maesters for study. However, after the war ended House Hightower reclaimed the egg and returned it to House Targaryen on the event of the marriage of Rhaena Targaryen and Gamund Hightower. The marriage was widely seen by the smallfolk as a reconciliation of the two great houses following their hostilities, and the return of the egg to its proper caretakers only reinforced this perception. It was not expected to hatch, owing to the long time it spent away from the warmth and fires of the hatcheries, but the Lady Rhaena felt that it still had a chance. To prove her faith in its viability, she gifted the egg to her niece, the lady Laena Velaryon, after the unfortunate hatching of the child's first egg into a blind, wingless monstrosity that was hacked to pieces after it tore a chunk from the babe's arm. Her father, Alyn Velaryon, was loathe to allow it, but the Lady Baela would not be gainsaid. Laena was a few years old, and Baela insisted that she be allowed to attempt to hatch her own egg. The hatcheries had yet to recover from the war, and the purple beast that made its home on Dragonstone would no fit mount for a young child. Stating that the egg wouldn't hatch anyway, Lord Velaryon finally relented and allowed Laena to have the egg.

In a mere few weeks the lady Baela was proven right when the egg quickened and hatched into a small, but healthy, green and silver dragon, who bonded with Lady Laena immediately. Lady Baela triumphantly declared that the little green beast was Moondancer come again; a statement that prompted her daughter to name the creature Hurax after the old Valyrian goddess of the moon. It is certain that Hurax did strongly resemble Moondancer both in color and build, but it proved to be far healthier than Moondancer had been, growing to a ridable size in a mere five years rather than the fourteen it had taken Moondancer. At the age of two-and-ten the Laena Velaryon rose into the sky on the back of the pale green dragon, becoming the first new dragon rider since her aunt and Morning. Hurax proved to be a fast, nimble flyer, just as Moondancer had been. It was said by some that she was even faster than Meleys had been, although this fact is hotly disputed by maesters, owing to the known speed and prowess of the Red Queen.

What is not in question is the fact that in the time following Hurax's birth and bonding with Laena, eggs began to hatch more frequently within the Targaryen hatcheries. Given that the only two dragonriders bore the names Velaryon and Hightower, this was a fortuitous thing for the Targaryens. Viserys II was, by this time, a young man of four-and-twenty, and he bonded the first new hatchling to come forth, a fierce, healthy blood-red dragon he named Balraxes. This hatchling grew even more quickly than Hurax had, and within a few years was large enough for Viserys to ride, although he was careful to keep the creature from his brother's sight. Following this new crop of dragons and dragon riders, the crown issued a new decree: the dragons must stay with house Targaryen, and would not be passed down to the children of dragonriders who married outside their house, unless they married into house Targaryen. This meant that lady Rhaena's daughters would not be allowed to claim her dragon after her death, nor would they be given eggs or hatchlings. Furious, Rhaena flew morning to the Red Keep, where she she stormed into court and demanded that her half-brother come out and explain himself. They argued heatedly about it, with accusations thrown on both sides, but in the end the king held firm saying, "I will not allow the family that killed my mother and usurped her throne have more of the very weapons they used to do so!" The wounds opened that day, and although Rhaena and Morning both long outlived her brother, but her nephews Aegon IV and Baelor I refused to change their father's edict.  Laena, Aegon III said, would be allowed to pass her dragons on to her children and gift them with eggs only if she should marry into house Targaryen.  The law thus established, it was henceforth not changed by any subsequent monarch, and within a generation the Targaryens were once again the only dragonriders.  

To Dare: Daena and Vaeksion

In a stroke if irony, one of Aegon II's eggs hatched the day after his death.  The usurper had been right about one thing: the dragon that hatched was exceedingly lovely, with golden wings and deep purple scales that flashed gold in the sun.  Alas, despite its birth, there were no dragon riders left alive to claim her, save the lady Baela.  If she tried, she must have failed, because the purple dragon remained unclaimed and languished in the pit.  With only lady Rhaena's Morning to share the ruined pit and the attention of the dragon keepers with, both dragons grew quickly.  As the only Targaryen still in possession of a dragon, and king Aegon III deeply fearful of them, the lady Rhaena took both dragons with her when she quit the city for the relative peace of Dragonstone.  There, the two dragons thrived, making their lairs on the slopes of Dragonstone.  It is said that they got along well, sleeping coiled together at night.  

However, eventually Rhaena married and left Dragonstone with Morning.  The purple dragon, still unnamed owing to its lack of a rider, had become far too large in just a few short years to be moved without a rider to command it to do so, and so it remained on Dragonstone and grew wilder by the day.  There, it proved itself to be a she-dragon by laying the first of several clutches of eggs.  And although some - including Aemon the Dragonknight and the future Aegon IV - attempted to claim her, none were successful.  Aegon IV nearly lost a hand in the attempt.  

In 157 AC, the purple dragon that might have been Aegon II's met her rider in the person of Daena Targaryen.  Bold, willful, and Targaryen to the bone, Daena's cradle egg had still failed to hatch.  This didn't seem to deter the princess, who talked non-stop about bonding a dragon of her own.  Several had hatched in the intervening years, but the only dragon the princess wanted was the beast that had been nicknamed the Purple Singer of the Dragonmont, for the mournful cries that were often heard coming from the mountain during the early hours of the day.  Now 26, she'd grown huge and fierce, by far the largest dragon Daena could attempt to claim (While it was true that Cannibal, Sheepstealer, and Silverwing had also survived the Dance, one was far too wild, one was lost, and the other was too far from King's Landing.).  Her father, however, had other ideas, and patently refused to even allow her to set foot on Dragonstone.  Although he claimed it was due to her young age, it was widely rumored to have more to do with his own fear of the creatures and less to do with Daena's willingness or ability.  And so, while he was alive, Daena did not claim the purple dragon.  

When her father died of consumption that year, the funeral was held on Dragonstone.  In the middle of the day, the child slipped free of her guards and made her way up the mountain and to the cave where the Singer made her home.  Purple flame was seen lighting the clouds, and those below felt certain the princess must have died in the attempt.  The were all wrong, and Daena the Defiant - a mere two-and-twelve - earned her sobriquet when she came bursting out of the clouds on her dragon's back.  Without even a saddle, the young princess had claimed and ridden the largest dragon she could get her hands on, and the sound of her laughter carried down to the shore through the clouds.  She landed the beast in the yard of the keep and named her Vaeksion, a portmanteau of the Valyrian words for gold and singer.  There she was heard to say to her brother Daeron, "I have done it.  I have brought dragons back to our house."  

The Golden Noodle: Elaena and Sunspark

In 150AC, House Targaryen's dour king welcomed a fifth - and last - child. A bright, happy baby girl with soft lavender eyes, and hair the color of platinum with a streak of gold. Her sister Daena chose the egg gifted to her, and placed it in her sister's cradle, delighting in how it matched the newborn's hair. It quickened and hatched, and a platinum-and-gold dragon spilled forth. This dragon was born thin, with an overly long neck, and an overly long tail. He was strange in other ways, too, having a split tail and small wings on his back legs. These, with the strange, whistling roar, made it obvious which dragon had sired this beast. Although Elaena named her dragon Sunspark, it was often referred to as "Noodle", owing to an off-handed joke Daena made about the animal resembling a "flopping noodle" when it was learning to walk.

Elaena, herself not considered a great beauty until much later in her life, was not at all bothered by her dragon's unusual shape nor her sister's japes. She slept with her dragon every night, hugging it like a toy, until it became too large to sleep in her bed and began sleeping on the floor of her chambers. Despite Elaena's very young age, she proved to be something of a prodigy when it came to her dragon.  As soon as she could walk she spent her days outside in the sun teaching her dragon to fly and return when summoned, how to eat from her hand, how to bow and follow all manner of commands. It was said that there had never been a closer bond between a dragon and its rider, and Sunspark almost seemed to understand every word Elaena said to him, sometimes better than the adults in her life understood her words.  

When the princess was five, Sunspark became too large to be indoors at all, and was moved to the dragonpit. It is said that on the first night of this neither the dragonkeepers nor any anyone in the castle got a moment of rest, kept awake by the cries of dragon and child alike. Her mother, who had loved dragons since her first meeting with the lady Rhaena's dragon Morning, thought that Sunspark should be kept in the castle yard and the princess's rooms moved to a lower floor where they could be closer, but her father would not hear a word of it. Some say it was because he disliked dragons in general, and others say that it was because Sunspark's golden wings and horns too closely resembled the dragon that had eaten Aegon III's mother, but whatever the reason neither the queen nor the young princess were able to convince the king to allow the dragon to return to the keep. Eventually though, both settled and were able to sleep apart from each other. However, Elaena spent all of her time in the dragonpit, Especially after the repairs to the structure were finished in late 156AC. But despite all of her training finesse and the strength of their bond, she had yet to take her first flight, wanting to allow her dragon to grow larger than strictly necessary before trying to carry her weight.

Her father would never live to see Elaena's first flight, as he passed in 157AC of consumption. They all visited Dragonstone for the funeral, and it was the longest Elaena had ever been away from Sunspark. After watching her sister claim Vaeksion, the young princess vowed that the first thing she'd do on returning to the city was finally ride her dragon so they would never need to be parted again. This turned out to be true, and on her return to the city the young girl accomplished the same feat her grandmother had, becoming a dragonrider at the young age of seven. Shortly thereafter, their brother Daeron the Daring also bonded a juvenile dragon who'd been born a few years previous.  (This young dragon was never ridden, as Daeron died in Dorne before it was large enough.).  As they were both still young, their first flight was around the city, but she flew every day thereafter, often with her sister beside her. Soon they would be racing each other back and forth to Dragonstone, a skill that proved to be valuable in 161 AC when their brother - King Baelor the Zealot - attempted to keep them locked in Maegor's holdfast. They escaped after one week and made their way to the dragonpit, saddling and flying their dragons to Dragonstone in the dark of the night. There, Elaena was free to fly as often as she pleased, and her sister was free to continue her affair with their cousin Aegon. Baelor, having no dragon of his own, was forced to accept their escape, although their sister Rhaena chose to stay in the Red Keep rather than risk a flight on Vaeksion's back. She had inherited her father's distaste for dragons, and never had the desire to ride one. She was far less afraid of their brother and King's Landing, and so she stayed in her prison until the death of Baelor I and Aegon IV's ascension. 

The Forgotten Ones: Morning, Silverwing, Daeron, and Daemon.

Aegon the IV was given the sobriquet of "the Unworthy", and it was well earned, but he had another. He also was notably dragonless, despite many efforts to claim a living dragon or hatch an egg. This, combined with the success of his cousins and his brother in claiming their dragons, caused some in the court to whisper that he was not fit for the throne, and that perhaps it should be passed to another.  These whispers did not improve when, at the age of twelve, and freshly knighted, Daemon Waters - later Daemon Blackfyre - decided it was time to claim a dragon and outshone his father. The only dragon he deemed worthy of him was the oldest and most powerful dragon remaining in the world. Silverwing, the mount of Good Queen Alysanne, had made her home on the shores of the Red Lake since the end of the Dance, and she was who Daemon had resolved to claim. Neither of his indulgent parents were of a mind to stop him, and so his mother, the princess Daena, flew him to Silverwing's lair atop her own mount Vaeksion.

It was 182 AC, and by this time Silverwing was 145 years old, making her the third oldest dragon in House Targaryen's long history. She was only surpassed by Vhagar and Balerion, who were 181 and 208 respectively when they left this world. Well fed and left to live in the wild, she had grown into a massive beast, big enough that a man mounted on a warhorse could comfortably have ridden down her gullet, possibly even larger than Vhagar had been at the same age. According to the smallfolk, she slept often and only flew to hunt, but when Vaeksion appeared in the air over Silverwing's home, her roar near shook the earth. Hearing it, princess Daena began to have second thoughts and tried to talk her son out of it, but he would have none of it. He was a knight, he said, and bore the ancestral blade of house Targaryen besides. Owing to her own young age when she claimed her mount, the princess relented, and landed close to Silverwing's lair to let her son make his way into it.

It must have been a tense hour sitting on the lakeshore for the princess, but she did not enter the lair looking for her son. She knew him well enough to know that he would leave that cave on Silverwing's back, or not at all. She need not have worried, for at the end of the hour, the ancient dragon burst from her home and into the sky, Daemon Rivers clinging to the barest remnants of Ulf the White's saddle. She urged Vaeksion into the sky to follow Silverwing, and although the dragon was far too young and far too small to challenge Silverwing, perhaps she thought could catch her son if he was tossed from the dragon's back.

Despite her worries, he was not tossed from her back, and eventually Silverwing settled, accepting Daemon Waters as her first rider since the end of the dance. The four of them flew back to King's landing triumphantly, and the cry of joy from the smallfolk on seeing Alysanne's dragon returned to the family after so long an absence could be heard even from the air. The only person not to cheer was said to be the King, and although he did congratulate his son when he landed, his jealousy was poorly hidden. He'd tried, and failed, to claim this same dragon, and still had the scars to show.

Prince Daeron - Aegon's IV's only legitimate son and his heir - was, by this time, already married with four children of his own, one of whom had also bonded a dragon and taken his first few flights. He'd never shown any real interest in attempting to claim a dragon, and possibly even assumed he couldn't owing to neither of his parents being dragon riders. But when his half-brother landed the ancient dame in the courtyard of the Red Keep, something changed in him. He turned to his studies, looking for any accounts of Valyrians bonding a dragon at so advanced an age. It is unknown if he found any, but it is known that by the end of the year he'd resolved to bond a dragon. A great beast to match his brother's, or defend against her if the need arose; although his maester recorded that the prince's words were "to join my brother in the skies so we might find common ground and be closer for it".

Prince Daeron seem to believe he should have a mount to rival his brother's, or near enough as he could. Tales of Sheepstealer had long come from the mountains around the Vale, but no definitive sightings could be confirmed, nor could the dragon's location or the status of his rider. Nettles had been a mere 16 years of age when she'd bonded the beast, and would now be nearing seventy, and so could yet live. Cannibal, by far the largest dragon left in the world, still made his lair on Dragonstone, but even Daemon hadn't been fool enough to attempt to claim him, and neither would Daeron. With Silverwing in Daemon's hands, the next largest dragon was Morning.

The previous year the lady Rhaena had passed away, leaving Morning without a rider. At five-and-three she was a respectable size, although a bit under half the size of Silverwing. She made her nest on the slopes of the Dragonmont, as Lady Rhaena's children had been expressly forbidden by the crown from attempting to bond any dragon at all, even their mother's. The edict had come from Aegon III, who'd said "the children are Hightowers, not Targaryens, and I've not yet forgotten what Hightowers did to my mother and my family." Three times Rhaena had petitioned to have the edict reversed, and all three kings had refused to do it. Even Aegon the Dragonless saw the folly in allowing other houses to have dragons, and Viserys II had gone so far as to include all of the other Targaryens who married outside of House Targaryen and House Velaryon. Sunspark and Hurion would be returned to the crown when their riders died, and the lady Laena Velaryon's children would only be allowed to claim a dragon if they married a Targaryen. This meant that the formidable pink dragon was free to be bonded.

When Daeron told his father he intended to bond Morning, a greedy smile crept across the fat king's face, "Good," he was heard to say, "then we all shall know for true if you are my son." Aemon the Dragonknight, the King's late brother and Daeron's rumored sire, had also been a dragon rider. Daeron, however, had seen portraits of his father in his youth, and knew that he resembled that young man far more closely than he resembled his uncle.

"I do not seek to ride Morning to validate your claims of my bastardy," he'd replied, "I do it to increase the strength of our house and bind myself even more closely to my beloved half-brother."

He had no mother to fly him to Dragonstone, and so he took a ship. He dressed in riding leathers, and made his way to Morning's lair. The claiming of one's dragon is a private affair for nearly all Targaryen riders, and Daeron was no different. It was said, though, that he was not long gone in the caves, and soon the warm afternoon light bathed Morning's pink scales, her rider secure in his seat upon her back. Daeron, it seemed, was more than capable of bonding a dragon and was a natural rider besides. Flying made him happy in ways that nothing previously had.

It also proved to be a prudent choice, for when the king died later that year he legitimized his bastard children, and twelve years later the house of the dragon once again found itself divided. It was nigh on seventy years since the dance had ended, and the advent of the Blackfyre rebellions meant that fire would rain from the sky once more.

The Second Dance, or the First Blackfyre Rebellion

Despite all Daeron had done to try and keep the great bastards close, conflict still came to House Targaryen once again. Unfortunately, King Aegon IV had been right when it came to the rumors that circulated after Daeron claimed Morning. Aemon the Dragonknight had, after all, ridden a dragon whilst Aegon and Naerys had not. It has to be said, though, that Naerys never tried to claim one, and Aegon was the only one of the pair that had been unsuccessful. Daeron knew this, and pointed it out on several occasions. Not even every child of Jaehaerys and Alysanne rode dragons, despite the fact that it is well known that Jaehaerys took six dragons with him to Winterfell, and therefore there were obviously some they could have claimed. Daeron was Targaryen, regardless of his parentage, and that meant dragon riding was in his blood. Indeed, once he bonded Morning he had proved to be an eager and adept flyer, and was heard on several occasions saying that Morning had been well worth the wait. This did not stop the rumors, as Aegon IV had both disliked his heir and given the symbol of kingship to his bastard son Daemon. And so despite the threat of dragons, Daemon broke into open rebellion in 196 AC, splitting the realm in two once again.

If there is one lesson that was learned by the Targaryens in the Dance, it was to use their dragons sparingly. The Dance had nearly destroyed their house, and none were eager to repeat that event, especially not the cautious king Daeron II. The fact that Daemon flew Silverwing was also enough to give the reds pause. Bittersteel's claiming of Aemon the Dragonknight's mount a few years prior did nothing to reassure the reds of their victory. Whilst the king rode the second-largest dragon, she was only half the size of Silverwing, and had no battle experience. Daeron needed more dragon riders, and so he prevailed upon all of his kin to declare their allegiance. Two of his sons, Baelor and Maekar, were dragon riders and they needed no incentive to join their strength to their father's. Baelor's dragon, hatched from his cradle egg shortly after his birth, was young, inexperienced, and much smaller than Silverwing. However, Maekar had claimed the fierce blood-red dragon Balraxes, who had been last ridden by Viserys II, and his dragon was nearly as large as Morning. Aerys, the King's second son, had no interest in dragons nor in bonding them, and Rhaegel, though he had bonded with a dragon as child, was not to be relied upon in battle.  So the king called upon the rest of his family, and the next to join the side of the reds was the princess Elaena, although she refused to risk Sunspark's life without one very important concession from the king: her children would be allowed to attempt to claim dragons. This was no small thing, but it was well known that even in her middle years the princess was still the strongest rider in the whole of the seven kingdoms, and her dragon had grown strong and fierce under her care, and so the king made the concession. Laena Velaryon, at two-and-sixty years old, declared herself to be too old for battle and refused to join either side, instead preferring to stay in her keep with Hurax.

The last member of the king's family to join his side also proved the greatest boon to their cause: his sister Daenerys. Daemon's mother, the princess Daena, had died a few short years after Daemon claimed Silverwing, which left Vaeksion without a rider. The princess Daenerys, whose cradle egg had failed to hatch, instead claimed the purple-and-gold dragon for her own and resided with the she-dragon in Dorne. She, however, did not extract the same promise her aunt had from the king. She merely arrived in the yard of the Red Keep on her dragon, who was of a size with Morning and twice as fierce, and greeted her brother by kissing him on each cheek and saying, "He is mine to kill, brother, do not forget that." The cause for her enmity is unknown, but the singers and rumors will say that it is to do with the love affair she carried on with her half brother.  Whatever the cause, she readily joined her brother, as did the whole of Dorne.  

There were many battles during the rebellion, but the most notable ones occurred in the Vale, the Weserlands, the Riverlands, and the Reach.  It is this last that is considered to be the turning point in the war prior to the final battle at the Redgrass field.  For all the damage that could have been done by the dragons, the conservative use of them by the Targaryens and Blackfyres during the rebellion meant that in truth they only clashed twice. The first time was in the reach, where Aegor Rivers was burning fields and food to try and force the king to concede. The king, never martial, commanded Elaena to fly out to meet him. She did so eagerly, launching into the air with a cry of laughter, and winging towards the precious bread basket of the kingdom.  Her character was such that when she committed to a course she gave her all, and she'd been begging the king for a chance to battle-test Sunspark.  

She met him outside of High Garden, where he burned the fields below, creeping ever closer to its walls. The old mount that had once belonged to Aemon Targaryen was a heavy, well-muscled beast of a dragon named Firestryke. He was a pinkish-orange color, with accents the color of house Velaryon's banners, and flames of seashell-pink shot through with teal. He was larger than Sunspark, but only by perhaps a third. And, more importantly, he was ridden by Bittersteel and not Elaena Targaryen. Nothing had ever come easy to Aegor Rivers, and dragon riding was no different. His dragon was his hammer, and every problem was a nail. Sunspark, guided by Elaena, would never be caught by Firestryke and his rider. That day, Elaena fell upon them from the sky, using the bright afternoon sun's reflection on Sunsspark's golden wings to blind Bittersteel and strike the first blow, raking her claws down the older dragons side.  

In battles past, the dragons seemed to fight most often by locking together mid-air and damaging each other with claws and teeth, but Elaena was a student of these battles and knew that to do so would almost certainly mean Sunspark's death.  Firestryke was far too heavy and strong to be torn apart by the younger, notably thin Sunspark in close combat.  Instead, Elaena had learned from Moondancer's battle with Sunfyre and used her dragon's swiftness and dexterity to inflict smaller wounds before twisting away and out of the larger animal's reach.  She twisted this way and that, using her golden wings to throw the bright sunlight into Aegor's eyes.  While she did take several small wounds, she inflicted far more than she received.  Black blood dripped and fell, hissing, to the ground far below.  Balls of golden and pink flames lit the afternoon sky, and from afar it almost looked as if the dancing dragons were showing off for the onlookers in Highgarden.  

Soon Bittersteel realized that his dragon was taking too many wounds in the air, and the smaller dragon had the advantage there, so he dove towards the earth, hoping to draw his aunt into a battle on the ground.  But Elaena Targaryen was far to canny to engage with him there.  It could be that Bittersteel, used to his own dragon's flying abilities and not knowing the capabilities of a dragon that relied more on speed and dexterity than strength, thought the ground would be safer for him, that Elaena could not fly so low as to hurt him or Firestryke.  If so, he drastically underestimated both the capabilities and the bond between Elaena and Sunspark. She flew low, nearly to the ground, and found her target.  Sunspark's night-black teeth clamped around Firestryke's neck and held fast, using her speed to gain the necessary force to cleave through sinew and scales, and tear Firestryke's head clean from his body.  Witnesses to the event say she dropped the head not far from where the smoking body lay, prone in the fires he'd started in the fields before the battle, before landing a short distance from where Bittersteel stood.  It is not known what words they exchanged, as none were in the fields to hear them, but what is known is that Bittersteel was carried back to the Red Keep in Sunspark's claws, where he was imprisoned for the length of the war.  Later he would escape, stealing a hatchling and an egg from the hatcheries before fleeing back to his brother.  

In late 196 AC the last battle of the war took place on an unnamed field near King's Landing that would later become known as the Redgrass Field.  At first, Daemon was not going to take to the air on Silverwing, as Daeron's largest forces - led by Leo Tyrell - had not arrived in time to join the battle.  It was going well, and he'd managed to even injure one of the Kingsguard in a duel.  But then, as it seemed Daemon would win, the screams of dragons split the air.  The king and his dragon riders had arrived.  He and his sister flew in front on Morning and Vaeksion, with Elaena and Maekar behind them on Sunspark and Balraxes.  Baelor flew high above them, his dragon appearing to be a mere hatchling from the ground.  The arrival of the king and his dragons distracted all, even the loyalist forces, for a moment and caused Daemon to leave the field and make his way to Silverwing.  Mere moments after he left the field, a rain of arrows from Bloodraven and the Raven's Teeth took Daemon's son Aegon.  

Silverwing was close at hand, and it was not long before the army was swallows up in the shadow of her wings as she rose to meet the five smaller dragons.  Only four joined the battle against Silverwing, while Baelor came down from the sky to strafe the battlefield below, finding the places where the two armies were not so entangled that he could not safely use his dragon to his advantage.  Above, bursts of flame roiled, filling the sky with color.  Elaena had taught the others well how to use speed against a larger dragon, and at first it seemed as if the second dragon battle of the war would be as quick as the first.  

But Silverwing was not Firestryke, and Daemon was not Aegor.  His dragon was battle-tested and he was a far more skilled rider, their bond having grown strong over the years since he'd claimed her.  The fire of the other dragons did nothing but anger her and cause her to spit huge silver fireballs in return, nearly setting both Daeron and Maekar alight more than once.  They switched tactics, abandoning fire, realizing the necessity of risking close combat.  Elaena was the first to strike a blow, taking a chunk from Silverwing's tail before dancing away from her dangerous jaws.  Daenerys followed her aunt's lead, moving in to strafe and injure silverwing.  

But Vaeksion was not Sunspark and Daenerys was not Elaena.  Vaeksion, always a huge, heavy beast had not grown smaller over the years, and did not have nearly the dexterity of Sunspark.  Silverwing caught her in her jaws, sinking her teeth in deep.  Vaeksion screamed, clawing at the older dragon's face and gouging Silverwing's eye.  The pain shocked the older dragon, but dragons turn towards pain and not away from it.  She clenched her mighty jaws harder, bones cracking  and hot blood spurting from Vaeksion's body.  There, on that unnamed field in the Crownlands, the dragon of Daemon Blackfyre slew the great purple beast that had carried him to Silverwing's lair, and she released the body, letting it plummet to the ground.  

Daenerys had always chafed at confinement, and had always hated wearing the chains that most Targaryens used to bind them to their saddles.  This day was no different from the others, and she was not chained into her seat.  When her dragon died beneath her and she began to plummet downwards, she jumped free of the saddle.  Daeron, still harassing the army below the dragon battle, saw this happen and flew up to meet them, dodging Vaeksion's body and catching his aunt on the pale blue back of his she-dragon Jezirion.  While she was more than large enough to fight in the battle, she had never carried a second rider before, and she struggled under the added weight, forcing Daeron to fly behind friendly lines to deliver Daenerys to safety before rejoining the battle.  On the battlefield, Vaeksion had landed among the armies, crushing friend and foe alike.  In the skies, the screams of dragons were near deafening.  

The three smaller dragons had inflicted half a hundred wounds on Silverwing, but she did not seem to notice.  It was not until Maekar managed to lock Balraxes's jaws around her throat and distract her long enough for Morning to tear a gaping wound in her belly.  Morning threw herself free of Silverwing, having delivered what was sure to be a fatal blow, but Balraxes was slower to act.  He tore a mouthful from Silverwing's throat, but was not as fast as he ought to have been.  The dying dragon tore a gash in his leg, but it was a mere distraction.  With a cry, Daemon Blackfyre did what his namesake had done so many years before, and leapt from the back of his dying dragon onto Balraxes.  Old and strong, Balraxes did not struggle under the weight, flying free of Silverwing as she fell, and holding steady for his rider.  Silverwing hit the ground with a crash, and there on the Redgrass Field the dragon of good queen Alysanne breathed her last and died, the last of the pre-Dance Targaryen dragons to leave this world.  Maekar, though, was presented with a new problem in the person of Daemon Blackfyre and his Valyrian steel blade.  Daemon raised Blackfyre to kill Maekar, but a burst of pink flame erupted at his back, setting his hair alight and heating his armor until he screamed.  He slumped forward across the front of Maekar's saddle, and Maekar flew his wounded dragon back behind friendly lines.  Daeron landed moments later, and they both dismounted.  

Although these events were well-witnessed, history is not always recorded accurately.  What is known is that Daemon was still conscious when taken from Balraxes's back, and Blackfyre had to be pried from his hand.  His hair was burned off, his skin showing horrible burns.  The king and his son called for a maester, but Daenerys with him.  It is because of this maester that we know of Daenerys's actions and the words that were spoken although, much to my dismay, he was not as good of a record keeper as might be desired.  

The princess arrived as a storm crashes into the shore, screaming at Daemon.  Daeron caught hold of her and tried to bring peace to her, saying, "Please, sister, do not become a kinslayer."  

Although he did not typically wield it, that day the king had chosen to arm himself with Dark Sister.  Daenerys's words could not be heard, but she grabbed the sword from the king's belt and turned, plunging the blade through Daemon's eye before anyone could stop her.  She whispered something unintelligible to the maester, and then tore the sword from his eye.  She dropped it on the grass and left, finding the Dornish camp and seeking her husband.  Her dragon was dead, and it was said that the princess mourned the loss for the rest of her life.  With the usurper dead at her hand, the rest of the battle was a mere formality.  The rebellion was over, quashed, and the army routed.  Of course, both Bittersteel and Daemon's son Aemon still lived, but that is a tale that were come further on in this record.  

The Fire in the Blood: Aerion and Brightflame

Shortly after the birth of Aerion Targaryen, his cradle egg quickened and hatched, and was bonded by its owner.  Once the prince was old enough to speak, he named it Brightflame, for the creature had wings and a belly the color of flame.  The prince and the dragon both grew quickly, and by the time Aerion was ready to fly his dragon it was more than large enough for the task.  With silver scales, a crown of golden horns, and wings the color of flame, Brightflame was widely considered the most comely dragon to ever be hatched by the Targaryens.  While many would have considered this a compliment, Aerion was bitter about being gifted a cradle egg that had hatched.  "I did not choose that thing," he was heard to say, loudly and often.  Aerion was vain and greedy and openly coveted his grandsire's mount Morning, who was by this time was nearly 80 years old and in her prime, of a monstrous size, battle-tested during the first Blackfyre rebellion, and the largest dragon in the Targaryen family (Cannibal was still alive, but had grown old enough that he was rarely spotted around Dragonstone, and his lair was unknown.). 

This all changed when, at the age of six-and-ten, Aerion finally conceded that he would never be able to claim Morning and instead took his first flight on Brightflame.  The prince had not realized how large his mount had grown nor how fierce she was.  Nor did he know, until his first flight, that near as fast as Hurion and near as dexterous as Sunspark.  Brightflame, for her part, seemed to be happy to finally have her rider and danced eagerly in the sun above the city.  Instead of the traditional flight around the city, the prince flew the eager young dragon to Dragonstone and back.  On his return he landed in the yard of Maegor's Keep rather than at the Dragonpit and declared that Brightflame would be living in the keep closer to him rather than at the pit and allowed to make her lair where she chose.  For their part, the Dragonkeepers seemed happy to see their young charge go as her unpredictability and foul temper had plagued them for years.  

Aerion's increased interest in his mount and their new-found proximity to each other did nothing to improve the temperament of neither rider nor dragon.  King Daeron I made it a mere six months before yet another injured servant caused him to send Aerion to Essos in search of Bittersteel.  The king reasoned that the hatchling Aegor Rivers had stolen must have died and the egg could not have hatched, but he needed to be certain.  If it had survived, it would be of an age with Brightflame, and likely half as fierce.  The bored prince went happily.  However, when he returned two months later he would not speak of what occurred on the trip except to say, "Bittersteel lives, the hatchling has grown, and the egg hatched."  The king was at a loss as to what to do, but Bloodraven began making plans to retrieve the dragons from their wayward kin.  Despite all of Bloodraven's efforts though, none of them were sighted until years later during the third Blackfyre rebellion.  Aerion, having returned, was not allowed to linger in the city.  He was instead told to remove himself and his dragon to his father's estate of Summerhall, "so that he might live in greater comfort".  That it removed Aerion and Brightflame from the vulnerable city was of secondary importance.  

Scrambled Egg: Aegon V and Vaeksion

Unlike the hatching of most cradle eggs, the egg of Aegon Targaryen, son of Maekar I, hatched not when he was a baby but when he was four years of age.  The young prince was delighted to finally have his own dragon, and he named the beast Zokerion after the Valyrian god of the deep forests, for that was the creatures coloring: the deep, lush green of the summer forests with bright white accents.  

Although Aegon - also called Egg by family and friends - was a small child who would have been no great burden for a dragon, Zokerion was four years his junior and slow to grow.  It was not until long after the prince left the palace and began his time squiring for Ser Duncan that Zokerion became large enough to be ridden.  However, when Aegon returned as a young man and found his dragon had grown much, he eagerly took his first first.  Having been away from his dragon for so long meant their bond was not as strong and his control was not as skillful as it might have otherwise been.  Their flight was rocky, with Zokerion twisting and spitting dark green fireballs into the air.  But the young prince did manage to get his mount to obey, and they flew a few times above the city before landing back in the dragonpit.  Aegon, stubborn as he was, stayed in the city and flew his dragon every day, practicing until his control was as strong as any other rider.  Following this, Zokerion grew more quickly, doubling his size within the next two years.  It was said that when prince Aegon met his future bride in 219 AC, he earned her love by taking her for rides on his dragon.  Whether or not this is true, none can know, but it is true that the dragon was oft observed flying with two riders upon his back.  

In 233 AC, with Aegon's father on the Iron Throne, the Peakes rose up against the crown.  They'd lost their lord in the second Blackfyre rebellion, thwarted by Ser Duncan and Aegon themselves, and their discontent drove them to rebellion.  Aegon and his father flew to Dorne on their mounts to suppress the rebellion, giving Zokerion his first experience with battle.  During the penultimate battle, Aegon's mount took a severe wound to his wing membrane, and was unable to fly.  The dragon keepers repaired Zokerion's wing, but Aegon refused to leave his dragon alone in Dorne and lingered there far long that he'd have liked.  He was forced to leave when the minor wound his father had take festered, and the king became ill.  It took too long for Aegon to return home, and by the time he did his father had died of the infection.  This touched off a succession crisis.  All of King Maekar's brothers, nephews, and eldest son had predeceased him, but Aerion Targaryen was older than Aegon and he still lived.  By rights, the throne would have passed to Aerion but he was well known for his madness and cruelty and few lords desired to see him ascend the Iron Throne.  Whispers, so loud as to barely be whispers, were heard to say that prince Aemon should be released from his commitment to the citadel and allowed to take the throne instead of Aerion.  These whispers were silenced by Aemon himself, as he refused to allow himself to be released from his vows.  The next obvious choice was Aegon, and when Aemon refused, the lords began to speak of crowning Aegon instead of Aerion.  

Aerion was not ignorant of these claims, and he held his coronation with a haste that was unbecoming, and was crowned a mere fortnight after his father's death.  His first action was to command his brother's arrest and imprisonment in the black cells.  It was not to be, as the prince and his family were spirited from the city by his supporters and fled into the countryside, where they hid.  King Aerion was incensed, placing a large bounty on his brother's head.  When rumors came that Aegon had been sighted somewhere between King's Landing and Dorne, it was all the evidence King Aerion needed to confirm that Aegon was making his way to where Zokerion was convalescing.  He took to the skies on Brightflame, flying for Starpike and burning every town that could possibly have sheltered Aegon on the way.  

It is now known that Aegon's eldest son Duncan flew Aegon to Starpike high above the clouds and the rumors of his movements during this time were the work of people attempting to claim the bounty, but King Aerion did not know this, and thus when he arrived to find Starpike empty of both Zokerion and his rider he was wroth.  He set about burning the keep, not caring whether those inside were Aegon's loyalists or not.  

He'd barely set a single roof to flame when Zokerion and Duncan's mount, Dariys, came screaming from the skies above Starpike.  Brightflame was fiercer and stronger than Zokerion or Dariys, but in a contest against the two of them she stood no chance.  Brightflame's wing was torn from her body and she crashed to earth.  On that day in 233 AC, the most comely dragon ever hatched by house Targaryen perished on the red sands of Dorn, taking her mad rider with her.  A just nine days, Aerion I Targaryen lays claim to the shortest reign of any Targaryen.  Judging by the destruction he caused in his search for his brother, the realm was better for its brevity.  The claim of his son, a babe in arms at the time, was dismissed out of hand on account of his age and fears that he may have inherited his father's madness.  And although there would be further trouble involving the Blackfyre's and Bloodraven, ultimately it was decided that Aegon would ascend the throne and become Aegon Targaryen, fifth of his name.  

The Legacy: Duncan the Small and Dariys

Following the second Blackfyre rebellion the black and red egg gifted to Lord Butterwell years previous by Aegon the Unworthy was returned to the possession of the crown under mysterious circumstances.  Some say the young prince Aegon managed to abscond with it from right under Butterwell's nose.  Others say it was a young knight claiming to be a descendant of Fireball's who returned the egg in an attempt to regain his family's honor.  Still others whisper that it was the work of Bloodraven, who did not arrive until after the egg had disappeared from the castle.  However it happened, the egg was returned to the Targaryen hatcheries where it quickened and brought forth a healthy, bright red dragon with black and gold wings and horns.  At the time she was born, there were no Targaryens in want of a dragon, and so she lived in the dragonpit under the care of the dragon keepers.  

When Aegon III rebuilt the dragonpit, his lack of interest meant that the building of the pit was given over to those who were far more familiar with the needs of dragons.  To wit, the design of the original arena and underground structures were kept, but the dome was not rebuilt, turning the pit from a cage to a nest.  The work princess Elaena had done with Sunspark as a hatchling showed that the dragons were far more trainable than originally suspected, even when they were not bonded. So all dragons, bonded or not, were taught to use the Kingswood and adjoining fields to hunt, rather than ranging north of the city where the flocks of sheep used in the service of the city were located. With this change in husbandry, the dragons thrived, and most grew quickly. More eggs hatched, whether in a Targaryen cradle or not. All of which is to say that by the time Prince Duncan the small claimed her, the fifteen year old red dragon was already large and thriving. He named her Dariys, a derivative of the Valyrian word for queen, for the crown-like spray of golden horns around her head. Some whispered that she might be Meleys herself come again.  

If so, then her flying skills took a different form in her new life, as Dariys was a powerful - rather than quick - flyer. She flew further than all of the other dragons, able to make the flight from King's Landing to Pentos without the usual stop for rest on Dragonstone or Massey's hook. The prince boasted once that he was like to take her all the way to the wall, just to show that she could make the trip without stopping. This suited the prince's adventurous personality, and later in life he often said how his first love - his dragon - had carried him straight to is second: Jenny of Oldstones.  But before that, she was more than strong enough to carry the prince and his father to Dorne to retrieve his father's mount Zokerion.  When Aerion and Brightflame arrived at Starpike, it was Dariys that near tore Brightflame's wing from her body in mid-air after Zokerion distracted her with a long gash down her side.  The slaying of his kin, whilst in battle, still disturbed the gentle prince Duncan, and he carried that melancholy with him until he and most of his family perished in the fire at Summerhall.  The cause of that tragedy is, to this day, unknown.  The child born amidst that fire - prince Rhaegar Targaryen - inherited his great-uncle's melancholy.  The singers and smallfolk say that the song of the dragons gathered at Summerhall when their riders died was of such sadness and such beauty that it passed to the newborn prince, gifting him with a talent for song.  

[daisychainsandbowties]

I've been thinking of a Warrior Nun Temeraire AU too!

It would fit easily because we could just give them all Longwings! But! At the same time! I also want them to have different dragons so maybe it's set maybe a few decades or more after the events of the Temeraire series and make it so that women are allowed to bond with other types of dragons too. And the other option is they are all part of a crew of one dragon captained by Shannon. In any case, Mother Superion is Admiral Superion.

And obvs Ava would bond with a hatchling ala Laurence-Temeraire. A very important hatchling that was meant for Lilith. And maybe the hatchling could have been laid by Shannon's dragon?

Now, that's the happier premise. The unhappier premise is Shannon died and her dragon, called Halo, is left so heartbroken and didn't want to bond with anybody else until Ava comes along.

My thoughts on Ava is that she starts working for the OCS as supposedly just part of the ground-based crew. She would really love to fly on a dragon but she can't because she can't walk! She's on a wheelchair. But then the very important dragon chooses her and will not agree to anyone else. And, once the rest have reconciled themselves to the fact that Ava will be the new dragon's captain, they (Jillian) construct mobility aids to make it easier for Ava to ride her dragon.

Oh, Bea would be one of the youngest dragon captains. She will def have a Longwing, I think (WDYT?). She rose through the ranks quickly because she's Bea, and maybe she got the dragon shortly before Ava came into the picture. Although OMG, what if she gets one of the Chinese dragons? Doesn't even have to be a Celestial. Maybe an Imperial?

Maybe they don't even have to be part of a British force as well, they could be like... international agents keeping peace around the world... if this AU is set after Laurence's time. So that way, they could be bonded to different dragons from all over the world. Okay, I am excited about this idea. Shannon could have an American dragon! Mary can be her lieutenant or whatever. Bea has an Imperial, or maybe even one of Temeraire's "kids" (which means she's from Britain with a Chinese-descent dragon) and Temeraire was like, I only want my kid to go to this one, I like her, she reminds me of Laurence (ya know, all rule-following and stiff and all that.)

Anyway, I will stop because I'm getting incoherent.

Interested to hear your ideas! 😁

YES! so thrilled that someone else in the fandom knows these books

i really like the idea of all the girls having different dragons & being in one formation, because having more than two longwings working in close proximity wouldn’t work. either setting it after the events of temeraire or hand-waving the sexism thing due to intense need for dragon riders (or making a weird nun splinter-corps? could there be demon dragons!!!??)

i was thinking that ava would get some kind of firebreather. probably a Kazilik let’s be honest. Iskierka energy would suit ava so well. & i think shannon had one too called Halo for sure!! & they were lost recently - picture mary washing up with shannon’s body cradled in her arms - but left an egg behind, on the cusp of hatching. 

naturally lilith is next-in-line. comes from a long line of dragon-handlers, worked on shannon’s crew but was injured the night that her dragon went down over the channel. my thought is that after ava’s dragon rejects lilith she has a whole semi-granby thing with ava but they foil an attack on one of the hatcheries and she rescues a longwing egg, though it’s damaged, and she almost dies doing it. the dragon hatches & immediately latches onto lilith. just!! lil should have the biggest wings.

bea YES definitely has an imperial (or celestial) and she is extremely young for a dragon-handler, sent as part of a diplomatic exchange (ostensibly, but really her parents don’t want her after she almost destroys their reputation). she’s got this streak of recklessness, but she has a gorgeous silver and black dragon (names are going to be so interesting to come up with!) who is also still very young. probably max a year. there’s little cosmetic difference between celestials and imperials but i really think bea deserves a celestial because she should get to shout stuff to pieces. (omg with the idea of her dragon being tem’s baby. & tem like… that’s a good kid right there i can tell. ofc being mad when bea is sent away but also… go see the world. adore that concept.)

cam either rides a midweight or a courier dragon (or just a tactical lightweight like maybe the spanish Felcha-del-Fuego?) but also her having a little Levi and being actually adorable with him & looking slick as fuck in her high-altitude leathers. would also be cool. think of her flying dispatches out to the blockade where the formation is stationed & idk maybe her & lilith being…. ahem.

onto ava! yes, for sure she’s in a wheelchair, but with carbiners and the dragon harness she’s perfectly capable of being on a dragon-crew. she has mobility in her upper body, & has always loved dragons. because flying and freedom. i think her dream is to get a courier dragon or just to be on a crew fighting, & her parents were both dragon-handlers who died & left her behind, so the corps kind of adopt her. but when shan’s dragon goes down, she goes to watch Halo’s offspring hatch, to see lilith claim her birthright, but the dragon doesn’t want lil & goes to ava instead. 

i really like the idea that they’re international agents. demon dragons have kind of taken over my brain, b/c why not bring in a bit of the wn lore? mary is shan’s lieutenant, but becomes ava’s when she imprints with the baby Kazilik. bea is initially sceptical, & lilith is MAD, & basically nobody thinks that ava will be able to be a dragon-handler, but the Kazilik is so valuable they can’t afford to just… let it go feral, so they have to let ava try. so yes! with the way the harness is set up it’s supposed to be navigable, and rigging up something that benefits ava specifically is doable. 

the potency of a longwing, a celestial, and TWO fire-breathers, plus like the urge to give mary a regal copper, so they have one mega heavyweight in there. & bea being cold and afraid to get close to this literal firebrand of a girl gradually thawing. their dragons hanging out. bea and ava discussing formations and coming up (re: tem) with new way of doing things, clever strategies, espeically since maybe demon dragons are trickier/really big/really dangerous. getting closer and closer like in switzerland but some incredibly dangerous coalition of demons dragons showing up & ava wanting to spare bea and spare her own dragon and the drama! (don’t think of the vibe with ava and bea being kind of like the laurence/granby initial vibe. bea disapproving because ava rides recklessly and with abandon and these dragons are people to her & the brits are Not Great about it but then she sees how much ava cares and has her little ‘oh’ moment)

okay wow thank you for immediately jumping onto this (dragon?) with me. i am bouncing up & down with excitement!!

[honeyfae-fr]

hello flight rising tumblr. i am back with another ettiquite question.

so i have a series of dragons called the mineral collection, and im putting bios for each of them with information on the mineral theyre named off of.

however, one of these dragons is from a hatchery and has a custom bio.

i do not know if it is considered acceptable to replace said bio with my own.

it does not say anywhere on the hatchery posts if that is allowed.

help

[whumpster-fire]

I know I already ranted about Queen Coral but I'm rereading Arc 1 for the hell of it and jesus I forgot how much she is just straight up the villain of this book. Egotistical, paranoid, cruel, incredibly easy to manipulate because literally all Whirlpool and Blister have to do is flatter her. I think she's like 50% of the reason I called WOF A Series Of Unfortunate Events But With Dragons is her because man, throwing two dragons in a dungeon because her friend said them being the murderers fits all the mystery novel tropes and locking her daughter and her friends in said dungeon because said friend said so is Person-Who-Fosters-The-Baudelaire-Siblings levels of competence. Also she's an evil tyrant who tortures and murders other dragons, and she can't figure out "have three guard, in shifts, physically inside the hatchery at all times while an egg is incubating because someone is obviously getting inside somehow." Like unironically this isn't just "I don't like her," Coral is legitimately the primary antagonist of The Lost Heir IMO. Yeah Whirlpool and Blister are there but Whirlpool's mostly a problem because of Coral and at this point in the story so is Blister. Tsunami literally spends like half the book either trying to stop her mother from doing evil things or trying to deal with the consequences of her mother's bad decisions.

Other thoughts on The Lost Heir the second time around:

Tsunami may not ever be queen of the Seawings, but she'll always be Queen Of Spending Half Her POV Book Making Bad Decisions and Being Horribly Biased in my heart. Oh god Tsunami is such an arrogant little disaster in this book. I love her but she needs to learn to respect and trust her adoptive siblings so badly.

Rereading this after having read The Brightest Night is so painful. Sunny is so clearly ready to start biting everyone (justifiably). Actually it's very fitting that this is the Sea Kingdom book because the entire DoD is at maximum salt levels the entire time. Literally everybody except maybe Clay is so close to losing it. Sunny is sick of everyone infantilizing her, Starflight is trying to act like a "natural leader" like Morrowseer lectured him about but it's obvious his only role models for leadership are the Guardians and Tsunami so he's trying to emulate them (badly), and Glory is just pissed off at everyone. And then there's Tsunami trying to defend her murderous, abusive mother.

I forget if this gets touched on in The Hidden Kingdom, but man, Glory must have felt so fucking alone and betrayed in this book. Tsunami is normally the dragon she can count on to share her anger at the guardians and never try to make excuses for their abusive behavior, and then she saw Tsunami's mother dragging small dragonets around on a leash, being a spineless enabler to Blister, locking them up in a dark cave and leaving them to die, and so on. A little bit of wasted potential to not have Glory calling Tsunami out on Coral managing to embody some of the worst aspects of Kestrel, Dune, and Webs but Tsunami suddenly being on the side of "Well, she's a complicated dragon" because she still didn't quite fully abandon the fantasy of a loving family she'd built up. Which isn't fully accurate because Tsunami did call Coral out plenty but I kind of want to see Glory go ballistic when Tsunami brings up some of the stuff she the other dragonets weren't there for, like torturing one of her guards to death for following an order Shark gave her, being ready to let wounded soldiers bleed to death for no reason, literally threatening Tsunami's life.

Reading this again I totally see where people are coming from on lots of Clay's complexity being abandoned after his book and him being reduced to "big dumb guy who only thinks about food." It also doesn't help that in the audiobooks the narrator changes to a very different voice for him after his book. However, I do have to wonder if he's doing this on purpose to try to defuse the other dragonets being at each other's throats because nothing else is working.

After going through Arc 2 every single scene with Anemone in it is heartbreaking. She's so scared of being driven insane by her powers and used as a weapon, and then Whirlpool more or less confirms her fear that she'd be forced to cast spell after spell until she lost her mind and was (presumably) killed because now she was dangerous. Then she accidentally killed him, had to keep it secret from everyone, and spent the next however many months with absolutely no support AND she got to find out that the last Animus in her family, Orca, was massacring her family. Yeah I can see how she internalized "I am already too far gone."

Wait a minute... why couldn't Glory go invisible and try to steal the key to Clay's chains from the guards when the cave started flooding? I guess I'll go with 'Glory was going to try it eventually but she and/or Starflight pointed out that wading through flooded tunnels and rain could result in someone noticing a suspiciously dragon shaped arrangement of water droplets mysteriously floating in midair, so that was the backup plan they hadn't gotten to yet.'

The entire institution of the Royal Challenge is irreparably fucked and every tribe in Pyrrhia that doesn't abolish it is doomed to have terrible queens forever because raising dragons from birth with the knowledge that they'll have to kill their mother, sister, or aunt to assume the throne, and they'll have to start treating their daughters like enemies once they get old enough, is ensuring that any dragon who gets on the throne absolutely does not have the temperament to be a good leader. The Rainwings, Nightwings, and Sandwings are probably okay because I think Glory and Thorn will figure out a peaceful transition of power, I don't know how it even works for Mudwings, and who knows maybe Ruby and Snowfall will manage to un-ruin their kingdoms' cultures, but the Seawing Tribe is kind of screwed and Anemone and Auklet deserve better than growing up with "Heir to the Throne" hanging over their heads.

[xweirdo101x]

I died from cuteness overload!! I have to get this cutie a partner I want lots of cute lil babies!!

[mystery-salad]

I think one thing that's really infectious about Guild Wars 2 lws1 is it really genuinely does feel episodic and fun.

In a way that the other living world seasons have tried to capture, but it just hasn't been the same because the thing is the scope of the others is just so MASSIVE, you're hunting down world-ending dragons at best and getting wailaid in that by single episode smaller enemies at worst. Not to say they aren't good, I love so much of the Living Worlds dearly they have some Good Content. BUT!

Lws1 is still such a small scope, and Scarlet for lack of a better way to put it is just Fun unlike any other content. The way she banters, her silly way of framing things like "yeah I've kidnapped many royals and the entire center of Divinity's Reach, and that's horrifying but also lmao I'm gonna cook Faren in a cauldron like a cartoon :p"

She's constantly bantering with the Commander, using silly terms and theatrics and sending you letters that explode or say "I hope this finds you unwell," she feels like a small series villain despite all the massive horror and tragedy she causes and precedes.

And the way we meet what will be our core team, a hard-core hometown revenge for a norn who lost his small town to enemies, a hatchery rescue where a young charr finds a friend for life in a new pet that followed her home, a noir mystery with a femme fatale for our leading lady detective to bounce off of, a fucking NIGHTMARE POISON TOWER THAT APPEARS OUT OF NOWHERE which they all come together to help us defeat showing their various strengths and having the catchiest little banter moments. "You two certainly stand out in a crowd." "Funny, I was gonna say the same about you."

It just feels fun. It feels kind of silly and really fun and despite the danger and the inherent tragedy, I'm finding myself enjoying it in a way that no other season or expac really does for me. I think it's neat! And after EoD, it's nice to have a little levity in the general atmosphere and among players. Especially with the very fun new group content we just got from this!

Can't wait to meet Scarlet in Lions Arch! 💥

[aaronymous9]

When put in a hatchery, RainWing eggs will be painted with stripes matching the parents’ colors. This is so everybody will know which dragonets are siblings. RainWing dragonets will mainly be taken care of by a few dragons, but the whole village does help out in some way. Siblings will be raised by the same dragons. 

Sorry that this is much shorter than my other headcanons, this one didn’t have many details.

OOOOH I LOVE THIS HEADCANON! It makes the Rainwing sibling friendships in the series already much more fun! Jambu making Glory do little sibling traditions Rainwings have as dragonets and Glory just being like “okay this is nice and all bro but I have two tribes to rule over right now”

[jungle-angel]

Dragon Rider Prompts

Alright guys, I'm back on my bullshit with more writing prompts!!!!! (lol). So I’ve been reading my favorite series by Anne McCaffrey once again and let me tell you, if ever you’re looking for a sci-fi/fantasy series to read, this is it!! Taking any and all requests for the usual fandoms: Top Gun Maverick, Outer Range, Bad Times at the El Royale and Salem’s Lot. 

1. Their first flight

2. A whole new world (songfic)

3. Working in the hatchery/nursery

4. “The little shit just clawed me!!!” 

5. “You sure he/she is a dragon and not some derpy looking bat creature?” 

6. Windsurfing on the back of their dragon

7. The dragons choosing their riders when they hatch

8. “Ok......no worries, we can do this” 

9. Fire breathing

10. Over the mountains and far away

11. “Brace yourselves, it’s mating season” (does lead to smut)

12. “You should’ve named him/her JAWS” 

13. “It’s five in the morning and you wanna go fly?” 

14. Listening to their own personal mixtape while flying

15. “Everyone here’s the best of the best.....and we’re gonna show’em” 

16. Flight Mission

17. Introducing the baby to the dragons for the first time

18. Rock climbing with the dragons

19. The dragon whisperer

20. “Guys, watch what my beast can do!!!” 

21. “This little guy can’t wait to hatch, can he?”

22. Lookout post

23. “You realize he can’t sleep in your room right?” 

24. Having a sleepover in the dragon caves with their beast buddies

25. “It’s like being on a rollercoaster......only you’re actually flying” 

26. Free as a bird

27. I See Fire (songfic)

28. Air games

29. Red sky at morning/Red Sky at night

30. “We’re a team.....and nobody can take that away from us” 

(There will most likely be a part 2 to this guys, so stay tuned)