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earenwen-leafwhisper · 3 months ago

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The handmaid and the dragons part 2

---Part 1---

Summary: The last Farewell of Alyssa, pain not only one personne. A prince needed to talk.

Pairing: Baelon Targaryen x servant reader, Child Daemon Targaryen x servant reader and Child Viserys Targaryen x servant reader (all platonic)

Trigger warning: death, mourning and funeral, tears

Note from the author: part a little shorter than the first part, but I wanted to focus on an event. Like the first part, the reader is not described physically.

English is not my native tongue, if mistakes have been able to pass my correction, I will correct them soon

---

The fog was falling on the area, heavy clouds covered the sky and darkened the landscape. A veil of sadness covered the castle.

The sisters of silence had walked from the great septuary. The servants, lords, and ladys were all looking sad and mourning. If it were not the sound of the armor of the guards and the wind blowing in the streets of King’s Landing, the castle was nothing but a dead silence.

Queen Alysanne was to stay with the children for two days. On the third day, you looked at Viserys and Daemon, you tried to keep your tears and deep sadness secret, your heart tight, you helped the children getting ready. Viserys had red eyes and ate, having cried since the time when the masters had refused to let the children see their mother. Baelon was so devasted that seeing Viserys in this state, had him so hurted to see him, that he turned back and refused to see the children not wanting to show them how devastated he was, so see them sad. He wanted to show himself strong for them, despite the emptiness he felt in the place of his heart.

Daemon was still too young to understand clearly all that had happened, he asked after his mother, but the servants, nannies and Targaryen only replied that he could not see her.

The evening when you were walking around and Viserys was crying, you tried to stay calm and nice.

"Where is Mom?"

"In a better world, little prince..." Daemon and Viserys looked at you with their child’s eyes, not understanding why their mother had left without them.

That night, you told them a story you had already heard (from family, friends, others), a metaphor about death and life after it, whether for the people who are grieving, or the person who died and his crossing into the afterlife.

After all, it also helped you in some way to mourn your loss, which was quick because of your position as a servant. Even if deep down you where hurt.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual, you had given yourself the task of looking after the children, to get in the easier task for the other servants not to have to look after them. It was the best way for you not to end up breaking down.

The clothes had been taken and organized in order to optimize their change of outfit, a basin of hot water was placed so that they could wash off their night of sleep more or less agitate. Everything was close and yet you did not want to wake them, you wanted to leave them in the realm of dreams. But it was necessary to wake them up, for their final goodbye with their mother.

---

The wind had faded as everyone gathered around the funeral pyre. Baelon was in front of everyone, near the body of Alyssa, his shoulders were shaken by his sobs. The queen took Daemon in her arms to bring him near Alyssa.

"Why is mommy hiding? Why is Dad crying? Why is Vhagar here? Will mommy wake up?"

And so on the questions were. Follows from Viserys, who tried not to cry. You could hear him sniffing, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. With a broken voice, he said goodbye to his mother, he laid down small flowers picked on the way up the hill. wanting something cute to be near his mother.

Viserys and Daemon stood side by side behind their father. Jaehaeris and Alysanne stood a few steps away from them, as did some of the royal family, like prince Aemon and his wife Jocelyne Baratheon. The guards were posted not far from them, and finally a few more steps away, you stood with some servants, some of them were your friends, everyone were in different level sad, some people at the edges of crying. You could hear people sobbing, although everyone tried to keep up a good figure, appearances were not misleading.

Baelon took some time before moving back from the pyr, Aemon having approached him and placed his hands on his shoulders in order to support him in this terrible event. It is with a hoarse and broken voice that he says to fear word in High Valyrian.

"Dracarys..."

Vhaegar looked at Baelon, her gigantic head slowly moving, the dragon watching Baelon, you thought to see a gleam of understanding in the dragon’s eyes, but quickly pulled out this idea from your head when you heard the small voice of Daemon.

"Mommy ?" His voice was filled with misunderstanding and concern.

When Vhaegar moved her head to line up to set the fire, Daemon grabbed Viserys' tunic and shaked him. When the flames touched the woods, Daemon screamed.

"Big brother! Mommy’s is hurted !! "

But Viserys did not move, tears running down his cheeks. Daemon ran to Baelon.

"Daddy! Mommy’s hurt!!!"

He clings to the leg of a Baelon crying in Aemon’s arms, shaking him and screaming at full lung, tears begin to flow down his cheeks. He looked at his grandparents but they kept a steady face, which did not give confidence to Daemon.

When he see you, he runned towards you, you put yourself on his level and took him in your arms.

"Y/nickname! They hurt mommy!! Please!! Help her!!!"

"I’m sorry, Daemon, I can’t do anything..."

"A magic kiss!"

"A magic kiss can’t help your mommy... I’m sorry..." Your last words were between soft sob.

When Daemon saw you crying, he cried even more, punching on your shoulders, sad and angry at you. He did not speak to you for a week. It's hurted him, that people not helped him in the face of the flames of Vhaegar.

---

A few days after the funeral, while you were washing the sheets of the rooms that were assigned to you during the day. You saw prince Baelon walking towards you. You were seated in the lavender’s basin, near other servants. The prince’s presence was not at all customary. He approached with a sure and fast pace. He stopped only once in front of you.

"Leave us." His voice left no choice to the servants present, who with a nod of the head went away. "We must speak."

You looked at the prince, while laying the linen to be taken from you, and let him speak.

"You have always been close to Alyssa..." Her eyes are darkened by the mention of his late wife. "And my children."

"That’s right my prince." This talk with Baelon made you uncomfortable, because you spoke very little to him now even less.

"Alyssa loved you very much, my sons also like you very much..."

Baelon sighed and sat down on the edge of the basin, you could see his purple eyes, circled by purple mark, the features of his face slightly dig in, you worried about him.

"I should not have gone into this war against Dorne... I should have stayed with her..."

"My prince... All hoped that the princess would recover... The maesters took care of her... We were all there... Her loss is a tragedy for all of us and even more so, for you and your sons. At least you were there, she knew you were safe and sound." You didn’t know if your words could help him but you tried anyway.

"What would have happened if I wasn’t here?!"

"Your sons would have been by her side, your mother would have been by her side, we wouldn’t have let her go alone."

Baelon began to weep, tears slowly flowing from his eyes.

"Why her ? What did I do to lose her ?"

"Nothing wrong, my prince..."

"I never cheated on her, never had bastards... And... And..." Baelon’s not going to continue his cries taking the lead.

"I’m sorry my prince..." You don’t look at him anymore, leaving a hesitant hand, to rest on one of his shoulders.

You felt him redeem, at the touch of your hand, but say nothing, leaving completely to his sadness.

"You are not alone, my prince... We are here to support you"

Baelon remained in the basin for several hours, showing his grief completely. It gripped your heart, you could not imagine how much it had to be destroyed within itself. It was in silence that you finished your washing, at the prince’s expense.

"You go to Daemon and Viserys?"

"After changing the sheets of Prince Aegon’s crib."

"How do my children react?"

"They miss you, my prince... It would be good for them to see you." Baelon looked at you with his purple eyes. " They need you my prince, you have lost your wife, but they have lost their mother... Let them not lose their father too. "

"Yes... you’re right... but it’s so hard..."

"Seeing them might do you some good, my prince." Baelon looked at you and you smiled softly.

“Maybe... yes...”

Baelon nodded his head, before moving to your side towards the castle. Your arms carrying baskets of linens. The wind blew gently, letting fly away the few dead leaves that had formed in this early autumn.

"My prince, I hope that one day your heart will find peace..."

“I doubt that will ever happen.”

"We don’t know what the future holds for us, my prince, your sons may give you some peace."

“The void left by Alyssa is so great...”

"But your sons are present, they hold your heart."

Baelon shook his head slightly, think of your words, full of optimism, that optimism which had been torn away from him for several days.

---

Tag list : @avalyaaa

#baelon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #chubby reader #house of the dragon fiction

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all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone · 11 months ago

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Jocelyn looked over at Shennen and softly breathed, "I know, I know." She knew what the woman thought of her brother, Joffrey. She knew she could not say out loud, what she thought of Joffrey, but Jocelyn already knew and knew it was true. Joffrey was a monster, and with more power the more dangerous he got.

"At least it is better than him taking it out on Myrcella, on Tommen." Jocelyn looked in the mirror then looked at Shennen through the mirror, "I suppose the smart move should be to cover it." She looked at the mark on her cheek, "so as not to cause more trouble."

Shennen wants to speak about how cruel the prince is how much she hates him for the way he acts. She holds her tongue as she knows it could mean certain death. If even one person hears it outside these chambers she is gone. Still she conveys the sentiment in her eyes full of sorrow with anger just behind the surface. She takes in a careful breath before making her way over to Jocelyn.

"Do we want... should we cover this or will you show it?" She asks as she looks to the mark. She knows a thing or two about covering marks so she could help. "I can find the right dress if we add some... jewelry and maybe style your hair right it could disappear." She suggests before moving to stand behind Jocelyn and look at her in the vanity.

@all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone // continued from (x)

#lcveblossomed #tw; violence #the last baratheon {jocelyn}

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potato-frenzy · 2 years ago

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Wow, seeing all the traction on those two posts about my 'Rhaenyra adopts her siblings' AU in the last 24 hours is insane. I think I need to write this fic now. Life is fucking hectic right now but you best bet that once the holidays are over I'll be plugging away at this

In the meantime, have some more headcanons

- Aemond loses his eye in an accident and it's all Ser Criston's fault. The bitch was trying to bully the younger kids in the training yard and like in canon, Harwin was goaded into attacking him. Aemond and Aegon tried to break it up but Aemond was thrown into one of the weapons racks. The scar is much worse because of this. Criston, being the one to have thrown the eight year old prince, is cut down with Blackfyre. By the queen's own hands.

- Aemond asks to be squire to Harwin as recompense for his part in the loss of the prince's eye. It goes over extremely well, Harwin becoming even more entrenched in the family. No Harwin doesn't die.

- Lyonel does still step down as Hand, Daemon is named Hand in his place and he gets to support Rhaenyra in ways he never got to support Viserys. Laena survives the birth of their son, little Viserys.

- Laenor does actually die when he leaves to fight the Triarchy with his father again. Rhaenyra doesn't feel the need to give him the out she does in the show and he doesn't abandon them.

- it still devastates their family but Harwin, Daemon, and Laena are there to help

- Lucerys is in fact Laenor's son, he just looks exactly like Jocelyn Baratheon

- Jace is less concerned with proving himself a proper Targaryen, he's more concerned with making sure his brother's are on his council. He's the most vocal supporter of Aegon's training to become Hand, the oldest boy having a difficult apprenticeship under Daemon. He keeps insisting that Aemond should be Lord Commander of the City Watch someday but Aemond is very vocal that he goes where Lucerys goes. Jace says he'll be Master of Ships so it's not like it matters. Jace suggests Daeron become a maester so he can be Grand Maester someday and the boy just softly goes 'please no'.

- Also Daeron and Jacaerys have often been referred to as 'the twins' given that they are so close in age, are milk brothers, and Rhaenyra often had them sharing a cradle. Ironically, they're not very close.

- Despite how attached Aemond and Lucerys have always been, everyone was shocked when they found out they were in love. Daemon almost died laughing.

#house of the dragon #lucemond #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #daeron targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #joffrey velaryon

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ride-thedragon · 7 months ago

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Restyling House Velayron.

To me, they were done the most dirty in terms of costumes. Older members first because they establish the world the young ones inherited. So they set the fashion of the house.

Corlys Velayron.

For me, the thought is that Corlys is two things, wealthy and beyond the idea of Westeros. He is the sailor of the nine Voyages, the head of the richest House in Westeros. The pleasantries his title should afford are outweighed by his acclaim and place in history. He is a player in the game, but in appearance, he's beyond fairness. Extravagant jewels and patterns from trading and rich materials that scream, we all know the one thing that kept me from that throne.

Rhaenys Targaryen Velayron

Mother is a Baratheon, a Velayron, and a Targaryen. She's also the style icon of her house. She grew up the seeming heir to the iron throne and is the wife of Lord Corlys. Her ability to play the part of reconciled Princess is only counteracted by her love of Targaryen heraldry. Or the red queen Melyes'. If she is the queen who never was, she should remind them as to why. Her house is also huge in trade. We can’t forget that this is the daughter of Jocelyn Baratheon. She doesn't choose sides, she invokes the memory of Jaehaerys' reign itself.

Laenor Velayron

Baby Laenor

So baby Laenor doesn't have much of a place of court, but he is Corlys' heir and expected to be a man of the court. So I think he's dripped out like the heir of house Velayron but dressed for the court by Rhaenys. The combination of the best of both his parents.

Teen Laenor.

Locs grow in 5 years, they grow a lot more than they do in the show and I don't know why Laenor didn't have longer locs. There is this duality that he can't reconcile his sexuality and what is expected of him, but I do think this is when he decides to play the part of an eligible bachelor. Even though he's still a Velayron, he's dressing more like his mom. Big and high hair. Robes and overall Westeros peak fashion. But also pretty boy loc styles. Setting the standard for Lord Consort.

Adult Laenor.

Okay, so this is the last part. We see Laenor in full dress once, maybe and never again. He's disillusioned from court and what is expected of him. He's dresses still like his position and represents his faction, but he longs to be somewhere he's wanted and belongs. He's isolated from his daily life and is trying his best. He's just a hollow placeholder for his former determined self. This is also the introduction of Velayron head scarves because they look cool.

Laena Velayron Targaryen

Baby Laena.

So, like everyone else, she is the set standard like her mother and father. She is the richest lady in Westeros. She does her hair in different styles that seem to reflect the dresses she wears, and the dresses she wears communicate her want to travel like her father. When she is presented to Viserys, it's almost a gaudy expression of the house Velayron and heir wealth. With style cues of both Rhaenys and Corlys, her outfit communicates the potential reach of this alliance and all that is at stake. But her hair is still childish, and the style stifles her.

Teen Laena

Baddest bitch in Westeros is back with her revenge arc. Her hair has evolved but is still ever-changing with both twists that look like locs and hair styles that communicate a maturity from her. Every time you see her because it is at this point you see her with Viserys and at the wedding she is looking like she's in a revenge dress. Her style is more adapted to Westeros with a love of Essos Fabrics and Patterns and corsets that look like the shipwright women of Driftmark. She is also now a dragonrider, so I think that adds to the confidence. She's also the most wanted match to have based on power along. Rider of Vhagar and the only daughter of the house Velayron. We never see her more true to her love of Driftmark. She revels in her wealth and power.

Adult Laena.

Two things. She's pregnant and she wants to go home. She's a traveller with Daemon, so I don't think she's going out of her way to dress in King's Landing fashion. That's not the way she misses home. She misses her mom, so she has high hair, still with twists instead of locs to symbolise her missing the men and blues and robes because she's in Essos, but she's a Velayron. Big jewels like her father and mother. This is her emulating her family because she wants them, wants her children to be familiar, this is Laena missing her old self.

Vaemond Velayron.

Uncle Vaemond is a Velayron man through and through. He'd have the smallest locs we'd see because he's on Driftmark and able to maintain it. He dresses in the colours of his house and in the fashion of Pentoshi traders. He's the most Essos leaning man in Westeros you'd see outside of Dorne. He has the freedom of the second son and shows that off in his styles. He is of House Velayron and does not care to appease house Targaryen in their quests for expanding power.

Next up, we'll follow the style narrative of the young ones

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all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone · 1 year ago

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“This is ridiculous,” Jocelyn hissed as she followed her uncle through the halls of Dragonstone. Guards had broken in Kings Landing and taken Jocelyn from her own bed and fled the Red Keep. When Jocelyn was first taken she had resisted of course, her first thought had been that Joffrey had planned to end her, a thought that had been ever growing in the back of her mind since her little brother took the throne. If the rumors were to believed and Joffrey was illegitimate, Jocelyn was a threat to him. Of course that rumor only seemed more logical when you compared Jocelyn’s looks with the rest of her siblings. They full Lannister, while Jocelyn was very much a Baratheon and her fathers daughter.

“Jocelyn,” Stannis began as he pulled his niece along, his hand on her arm and guiding her.

“It is!” Jocelyn hissed again, cutting off her uncle before he could say more, “you kidnap me from my home in the middle of the night, and now you offer my up to a Targaryen like a prized calf.”

Stannis stopped abruptly and pulled Jocelyn to turn towards him, “that is exactly what you are.” He insisted, his tone was harsh but quiet, “if you remained in Kings Landing how long do you think you would remain safe from bastard brother, hm?”

“So you offer my up to Viserys Targaryen instead?!” Jocelyn exclaimed staring at her uncle in disbelief. She tugged her arm away from her uncles grasp and let out a breath, “there has to be another way! Why did he even agree to this? Surely he hates Baratheons. Who knows, perhaps this is just an excuse to put my head on a spike!”

“If that was what he wanted I would have been long dead,” Stannis said and took in a breath, trying to calm himself. Gods, his niece was as infuriating and as stubborn as her late father, “he needs you by his side for the same reason Joffrey would have seen you dead. You are a challenge. Despite your gender you are a threat to Joffrey. If you tried for the throne the Westerlands would rise up in your defense as Roberts true born child. Sure he has bastards from all over the place, but you have Lannister blood as well. Even Renly cannot dismiss your claim.” He took Jocelyn’s arm again and continued to lead her to the throne room where Viserys was waiting, “Viserys is a Targaryen, his claim goes back to Aegon the Conqueror. There is no one that can dismiss his claim to the throne.” He took in a breath, “you bring support to his side, in a Kingdom where he is not exactly welcomed. The Targaryens have been gone from these lands for a long time, and the last king was mad. We need people to accept him.”

“We?” Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, the judgement clear in her tone.

Stannis let out a breath closing his eyes for a moment, “Jocelyn...” He had stopped them in front of the doors to the throne room, “behave, and mind your tone.” He opened his eyes and threw a warning look to his niece before the guards pushed the doors opened and Stannis walked in with Jocelyn. Stannis stopped a few feet from the throne and bowed, “Viserys Targaryen, may I introduce my niece. Jocelyn Baratheon.” He gestured to her.

Jocelyn looked up at Viserys, and swallowed, she had never seen a Targaryen before and Viserys looked otherworldly. He almost didn’t look real, and despite herself Jocelyn couldn’t help the shaky breath that left her body as she lowered her head and curtsied to him. A graceful curtsey, being a princess she had never been lacking in grace and decorum, but on the inside she felt like she might start shaking.

“Your grace,” Jocelyn spoke gently, not sure what else to call him. She wore her black hair braided away from her face, and still had on her riding garb that Stannis had given her when she had been whisked away from the Red Keep, the garb in traditional Baratheon colors.

@all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone

Finally after all of these years, Viserys is home. He’s taken back Dragonstone, Stannis had surrendered to him as soon as his dragon lands, let alone the Golden Company and the other army of men he’d managed to gather from his time in Essos after his dragon had grown bigger. Viserys listened to Stannis’s council as the man filled him in on the current political landscape of Westeros. “If Jocelyn is Roberts true born daughter, it’s simple then. We kidnap her. I’ll take Rhaellion and get her” Viserys states as Stannis shakes his head

“It’s not that simple, Your Grace. We can’t just steal the Princess, my niece away on a dragon. It’d cause too much of a stir and there is already enough chaos happening in the realm. Let me get her, my men and I can sneak her out. I’ll also send one of my men with a letter for Robb Stark and his mother to see if we can sway them to your side. My brother will be less then willing. But if you marry my niece and join your houses it should make the War for the throne be done and over with. Joffery and his mother and siblings will be forced from the throne. We will have just to focus on the Greyjoys and Renly if we can get the North and Riverlands on our side.”

Viserys nods and sends Stannis off on his way to fetch his niece and bring her back to Dragonstone.

#notenoughmuses #viserys #got au #the last baratheon {Jocelyn}

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ophelias-lamentation · 1 year ago

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Queen Alyssa Velaryon. First married to her husband King Aenys I Targaryen, Alyssa gave birth to six Targaryen children, including the future King Jaehaerys. After the Death of Aenys I Alyssa was married to the Lord of Storms End, Rogar Baratheon, through him she gave to two children, during her last childbirth she was murdered by Rogar in order to give birth to Jocelyn Baratheon. Both the Houses Targaryen and Baratheon are descended from the Queen Alyssa. Also I totally hc that the Velaryons have some of the most interesting fashions, I think that they play around with makeup slot more hence the pearl on her face and that they also show a bit more skin than other regions due to the humidity and heat of their island.

#alyssa velaryon #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoif/got #asoif fanart #asoiaf fanart #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house baratheon

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little-spicy · 2 years ago

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Secret Ties

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Y/N Velaryon was the adopted child of Rhaenerys and Laenir. Taken in as a babe and was the daughter of house Velaryon and treated as one. Even though the blacks and greens have bad blood. Y/N and Aemond have always shared a secret love for one another. As war begins, the two decide to set their own fate and seal a promise made long ago.

WARNING: smut 🔥🔥( minors DNI!)

THE SUN BEGAN TO SET AS Y/N DESCENDED down from her dragon Meela. Her dragon calmed as Y/N came over and held her hand on her dragons cheek. Leaning into her and hugging the dragon closely.

"I thought you'd never come." The man said and caused Y/N to turn quickly and there she saw Aemond. She saw that he changed his appearance since the last time she saw him. His hair was now shorter, his eye patch covered his scarred eye, and the clothes he wore won't green or black, but red.

She looked as he wore a cloak, hiding the clothes underneath him and his identity.

"It's hard trying to get away from my mother, she's already sending my brothers to defend." Y/N said and went over to Aemond and hugged him tightly. "You know once we do this, there's no going back."

"I didn't plan on going back on my word." Aemond said and lifted Y/N chin to make her look at his one eye. "I don't care what happens next only to be there with you."

She felt her eyes tear up and she kissed him gently, feeling the warmth of his lips soothed her and calmed her nerves.

She knew it wasn't going to be easy but she was willing to risk it all for him.

Y/N was an orphaned baby, an old maid of Rhaenrys's had given birth to her and when the news of her death caused Rhaenrys to take action.

She convinced Laenor to take in the baby and they had decided to raise her and bring her up to house Velaryon. Of course, Alicent, Aemond's mother had resentment.

Alicent believed Y/N was a lucky brat, that even though she was treated as a princess of house Velaryon she would always be just a handmaiden like her birth mother.

And of course Aemond never believed it, he would listen to his mother about many things but Y/N was never a hand maiden to him.

She was there for him when his brother and nephews teased him. She would let him go on her dragon whenever he pleased and almost felt that it was their shared dragon.

They were close and though Alicent and Rhaenrys's distaste's for one another always grew, the love between Aemond and Y/N grew stronger.

The day Aemond lost his eye it changed everything, everything that happened that day made Y/N worry even more about the feud.

After everyone had cleared from the room and left Aemond with his blood face and stitches that now covered his lost eye, Y/N stayed and washed the blood with a warm rag.

He promised her and she promised him that they would both be each other's half.

They knew they would be together and no one could part them not even their mothers' hatred.

Once the king had died they knew they had to marry. Her mother was already willing to marry Y/N to the Lannister heir to gain alliance and Alicent was going to have Aemond marry Jocelyn Baratheon.

Y/N sent a letter to Aemond secretly and asked him to meet her across the waters and to their secret place hidden in the mountains.

She secretly grabbed a white gown Aemond bought her and told her mother she was going to see to her dragon.

And now they were standing with each other hand in hand and ready to go where they needed.

They walked for a few miles, feeling the wind through their hair and smelling the faint scent of grass and the hint of sage.

A man was there in a dressed attire, holding a book and waiting for the couple under a tree. Y/N gripped Aemon's hand and as they approached the man, the old man gently smiled.

"Have you brought what you needed?" The man asked and Aemond nodded and under his cloak had a small sack.

In the sack had a chalice and a blade, handing to the older man and he took them gently and looked at them both.

"Let us begin." He said. "May you take hands."

Aemond and Y/N stood in front of each other and held hands, both of them couldn't stop smiling and Y/N began to tear up as she dreamt of this for years.

"Before us we are standing in front of the gods as we bless this union." He said. "Of House Targaryen and House Velaryon, we wed you two to become one and to love each other and honor each other as you both shall live."

The old man took Aemond's hand first and sliced his hand letting his blood poor into the chalice, then doing it again with Y/N. He then added wine to mix it together and held it front of them.

"Drinking this will make you one, blood shared by each other and bringing blood together." He said and Aemond raised the drink to Y/N's lips and she drank it, looking up as Aemond watch intensely and smirking.

Y/N held the chalice up to his lips and did the same and smiled as he drank every drop.

The old man then grabbed a cloth and tying their hands together with their cut hand and sealed it.

"Kiss and you will be complete, the houses United and the black and green flames will desist." The old man told them.

The two of them kissed intensely, Y/N touching Aemond's cheek and Aemond sneaking his free arm around her waist and holding her close.

Once they parted, the man bowed to them in honor.

"Congratulations, Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N Targaryen." He said. "May you live in everlasting bliss."

The man took his leave and Aemond held Y/N close looking at the sea below from the high mountain.

"We are married, truly married." Y/N said happily and held his hand tight.

"There is one more thing we have to do." Aemond smirked and Y/N blushed and giggled as Aemond lifted her up in his arms. "I've waited years to ravish you, you've given me kisses and a harden cock but I'm not stopping tonight until you are completely asleep."

Her core tingled at the thought and kissed him hungrily as Aemond carried her.

"Aren't we going back to our dragons?" Y/N asked as she looked back and Aemond chuckled.

"I actually have a surprise for you my love." He said and walked up a stony path that they had walked a million times before.

He stopped abruptly and placed Y/N down gently. He took her hands and smiled down at her.

"Close your eyes my love." He said and Y/N looked at him suspiciously and caused him to laugh. "I promise it's a good surprise, trust me."

She smiled and closed her eyes and Aemond grabbed her hand and led her closer and closer until he stopped in front of a display and kissed her cheek.

"Open." He said and Y/N did as she was told and she couldn't believe what stood before her.

It was a tree that they had been to before, where they put their initials in. Near the tree had lanterns and fruit for them. A nice fur blanket on the grass and a pillow as well.

She looked in shock and amazement as Aemond waited for her to speak.

"I know this is where we spent-" Aemond was talking until the words were taken from his lips and Y/N kissed him passionately.

She touched his face and pulled away.

"Fuck me my love, ravish me." She said and for the first time Aemond had been left speechless. He's never heard her so bold.

"As you wish my princess." He said and lifted her up and carried her to the fur blanket and laid her down.

He began to take off her dress, ripping the corset to get to her body. He growled as she moaned, kisses he began to deliver across her neck and chest.

He pulled the top of her wedding dress down and looked at her breasts in all its glory. She blushed and tried to move her head but Aemond saw and touched her face.

"Don't close your eyes princess." He said and took one of her breasts in his mouth and began to suck and bite. Teasing her nipple and making her moan loudly and grip his hair.

Her core thumping violently and causing electricity to jolt throughout her entire body.

"Aemond." She cried out as she watched him switch from one to the other every so often.

She looked down at his crotch and could see his hardened member, begging for release.

"Let me help you m-my love." She said as she unzipped his trousers and as she did, her checks blushed as she looked at his large member.

The tip was red and leaking, she never had seen it. She of course had felt it through Aemond's pants. She always fantasized what it looked like and when she finally had seen it, she was scared and aroused.

She gently grabbed it and touched the precum that was leaking, lubing his hardened member as she moved her hand up and down.

"Yes, f-fuck." Aemond grunted as he decided to use his fingers to touch her folds.

They both shuddered in pleasure, both helping one another come undone. Feeling everything and feeling closer than they had ever been.

"Ae-Aemond, please." She whine and Aemond smirked and removed his hands, making her whimper.

Aemond then manhandled her and had her back on the ground, looking up to him with her does eyes filled with lust.

"What would like my wife? Hmm, what shall I do with you." He asked and she reached up to his cheek and placed her hand over his patch.

She could see the hesitation in his eyes, and leaned up to kiss his eyepatch.

"I want to see you, all of you." She said and Aemond, looked nervous, but Y/N placed her hand over his, and once he removed his eye patch, the beautiful sapphire looked down at her.

"I love you." She cried and that's all it took for Aemond to fully snap. To finally break and for his urges to fully take over.

He grabbed her face and at the same moment he kissed her, he decided to push his cock into her. She cried out but Aemond's kiss silenced her.

It felt as if the world stayed still, he stayed there to let her adjust and could already feel the break of her virgin walls.

"Can I move my love?" Aemond asked and she had a few tears building up, and only nodded. She exhaled as she felt him move. "Squeeze my arm love."

Y/N instantly squeezed his arm as he began to move and thrust in and out. He kissed her cheeks and whispered nothing but affections as she adjusted.

As the thrust began to become consistent, the pleasure began to rise and the pain went away. Her quiet cries turned into loud moans.

"Yes, oh gods, Aemond." Y/N moved her hands to his back, and scratched softly.

"That's it, you feel amazing love." Aemond said. "No one is meant to touch you but me, say it."

Aemond growled and used his fingers to rub her clit, that did it for Y/N as she felt her release come closer and closer.

"Only you are meant to touch me. Only you." She cried and Aemond started to lose control and fuck her relentlessly.

The sound of his skin slapping against her, her moans were louder than the crickets and frogs. All she did was beg and claw at his back to cum and he was willing to give his wife anything.

If she had asked to kill Aegon, he would do it. Nothing would stop him from this moment. He'd kill everyone in the world if it meant staying in her velvet walls.

"I-I'm going to-to-" Aemond kissed her and placed his forehead against hers.

"Yes, cum for me, cum for me my love." Aemond said and began to swear in Valayrian.

She cried out and her entire body fell onto the blanket as her legs began to shake, and her walls clamped around Aemond's shaft.

Aemond thrusted in her a few more times until he moaned out and felt his seed fill her. He smiled and thrusted one last time and fell down on top of her.

She squealed as she felt his weight and she laughed.

"You weigh a ton, as much as a dragon." She told him and thrusted in her and caused her to moan.

"What a mean thing to say to your husband." Aemond said and flipped them over so she was on top of him, and his softening dock began to harden again. She felt drowsy and Aemond laid her against his chest and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Sleep, sleep and dream only of us." He said and kissed her sweaty forehead. He grabbed some of the blanket to cover themselves and held her close.

"My princess." He said and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts only be consume of Y/N, his new bride.

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!! Ty for reading and I also wanted to add I'm doing commissions!!!! Just message me and I can show you some of my pieces or go to @ peytonmunson on insta! ✨✨

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #smut

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crownrots · 5 months ago

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🍇 PRINCESS RAENESSA TARGARYEN (75 AC - 133 AC) (template by @kanos)

↳ Raenessa Targaryen was born in 75 AC to Prince Aemon Targaryen and his wife, Jocelyn Baratheon. She is the older twin sister of Princess Rhaela Targaryen, and younger sibling to Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.

Meek and emotional, she was oft called The Weeping Dragon behind her back. Ever compared to her two sisters, she lingered in their shadow for most of her life, trailing behind them and cleaning up their messes or sifting though the scraps they left behind.

Her cradle egg, as green as Wildfire, hatched shortly after her birth and finally in 91 AC at the age of sixteen, the timid Targaryen finally took the beast to mount. The Green Jewel of Dragonstone, Vysera, as she named her, seemed to be just as timid as her rider, but was fiercely protective of the young woman. While barely ridden due to Raenessa's distrustful nature, the dragon and rider shared a bond that was as close and unique as any other.

In 94 AC, at the age of nineteen, she wed Donnal Redwyne. The two struggled for years to have a viable pregnancy, and after many failed attempts, their prayers were finally answered when she gave birth to a girl in 113 AC, whom they named Daenys.

Unfortunately, their new found bliss was cut short as a fever took Donnal Redwyne's life mere weeks after Raenessa had given birth. The now widowed mother was never quite the same after that and as years passed she rarely let her daughter out of her sight. Months following the tragic loss, Queen Alicent extended an invitation towards her and the still young child, offering them a residence in the capitol should they want it. Raenessa graciously accepted and the mother and child lived in relative happiness and great comfort for many years.

When the Targaryen civil war commenced in 132 AC, Raenessa declared her support for King Aegon II Targaryen and The Greens, though, suffers a great loss at many turns.

In the days following the slaying of her older sister and her dragon at the Battle of Rooks Rest, Raenessa used the exodus of small folk from King’s Landing to flee the capitol. Amid orders from the Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen, to seal the city, she managed to slip through undetected. Still reeling in shock and grief, she declared for her cousin, Rhaenyra Targaryen, but subsequently found herself locked in the cells beneath Dragonstone for a time, her untimely and sudden arrival sending ripples of confusion though the Queen’s small council.

Back in King’s Landing, Raenessa was branded a traitor and in retaliation Criston Cole suggests her dragon, Vysera, be slain and her remains fed to King Aegon's mount, Sunfyre, for her treachery.

In 133 AC, after failing to be reunited with her daughter, Daenys, until Queen Rhaenyra takes King's Landing, she suffers another great loss; one that will prove her last. During the riots lead by The Shepherd, Daenys would retreat to the Dragonpit to ensure the safety of her own dragon, Duskwing. Her demise was said to be particularly gruesome, the young woman and her unborn child crushed underfoot by her frightened dragon in its panic as the mob descended upon the chained beasts.

Overcome with grief, Raenessa Targaryen ended her own life just days later, through means of poison, succumbing to the deadly concoction nestled among her daughter's belongings.

tag list (ask to be added or removed 💞): @queennymeria @laiostoudenn @roberthouse69 @wardsables @thedeadthree @statichvm @frankwoods @josephzeppeli @countessrooster @lucky-107 @cptcassian @arborstone

#t: edits #c: raenessa #as always disclaimer on the dates bc idk what hbo doin #RIP GIRLIE!#sad she never really reconciled with either of her siblings before their demise #and by the time she goes to dragonstone post rhaenys elsa is coming back from laying down business in the north ready to bust heads #so there's like NO chance of trying to develop a friendship with her niece #sucks bc raenessa really wasn't all that bad she just didn't know how to stick up for herself and really relied on others to make decisions #for her most of the time #when donnal died she was LOST and living in KL was kinda like...living on autopilot it really wasn't LIVING ya know?#i'm sure these dates will change bc idk if the timeline i'm using is like 400% accurate or not #fire and blood spoilers #i guess for the dragonpit stuff (AHHHHHHH I NEVER WANNA SEE IT.)#also not her leaving her kid and dragon behind like girl 😭#hotd spoilers #i guess for like limited info.#also v SAD that elsa is the only one of aemon and jocelyn’s grandchildren to still be alive 🥲

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all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone · 11 months ago

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❝ don't worry, i'll stay. i'm not going anywhere. ❞ (shennen to jocelyn)

Jocelyn looked over at Shennen and took in a breath, the relief showing on her face.

"Truly?" Jocelyn asked her voice shaking a bit. She didn't want Shennen to leave, she was about the only friend she had in the Capital, or at all.

#answered;ask #the last baratheon {jocelyn}

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horizon-verizon · 1 month ago

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saying you don't like daenaera because she "appeared out of nowhere" is funny because if these people looked further they would find out that daenaera would exist anyway, a velaryon wife would always exist, that was always Martin's line and honestly, I love how she was introduced in the book

Sounds like another excuse in the line of excuses they have. (Post #1 and Post#2).

Daenaera was quite literally meant to be the saving grace for Aegon and his family bc Unwin Peake engineered the Maien Day's Ball specifically so he could use his daughter's hoped-for marriage to Aegon to control him and the crown. (And her sunny disposition served to raise Aegon's spirits, of course.) There is specific diction (syntax and vocabulary) to convey this was a surprise, last minute countermove and that their very entrance was a break in the monotony of the Ball/the direction towards Myrielle where the exahustion and crampedness/discomfot of the event would manipulate Aegon to get it over with and just choose "Myrielle". Baela and Rhaena also "appear out of nowhere" precisely because Unwin didn't expect them there or any interruption to his plans nor did anyone expect Baela (who had run away to avoid marrying an old dodger the regents chose for her and seemingly out of the council's wy) nor Rhaena (who was supposed to be away in the Vale):

("War and Peace and Cattle Shows")

So yeah, when Daenaera enters, it's was meant and explicitly written for her to appear to put a wrench in the direction/path Aegon/the crown and the Ball was on. Duh.

Some people simply don't understand & relied too much on those Blu Ray episodes when A Clash of Kings AND AWoIaF both showed that Daenaera was Aegon's kids' mothers.

Anon is talking about this a clash of Kings, which came out in 1998--

Davos would have given much to know what he was thinking, but one such as Velaryon would never confide in him. The Lord of the Tides was of the blood of ancient Valyria, and his House had thrice provided brides for Targaryen princes.

* this doesn't count* - [I'm just adding this for the record] Vaelaena Velaryon (mother of the Conquerors -- wife of Lord Aerion Targaryen)

Alyssa Velaryon (mother of Rhaena the BB, Alysanne, and Jaehaerys I, plus others who died young -- wife of Aenys I; even mother to Jocelyn Baratheon, the mother of Princess Rhaenys, rider of Meleys and mother of Laena and Laenor Velaryon, grandmother to Baela/Rhaena Targaryen)

Laena Velaryon (mother of Ladies Baela and Rhaena of Pentos - Daemon Targaryen)

Daenaera Velaryon (mother of Daena, Elaena, Rhaena the Septa, Daeron I, Baelor I -- 2nd wife of Aegon III; thus Daenaera is the grandmother of Daemon Blackfyre)

And all these women are also in A World of Ice and Fire as what I described...If Jaehaera were the one to be Aegon's kids' mother and survives, why would Daenaera be in all these books if she never marries Aegon and becomes mother to his kids? It's quite literally her narrative purpose!

By contrast, the Blu Ray animation episode of the Dance where you hear that Aegon and Jaehaera's marriage ended the Dance published in 2016.

#asoiaf asks to me #daenaera velaryon #fandom critical #hotd fandom #asoiaf fandom #greens stans #hotd neutrals #fire and blood writing #daenaera velaryon's characterization #baela of pentos' characterization #rhaena of pentos' characterization #myrielle peake #unwin peake #unwin peake's characterization #asoiaf #fire and blood #fire and blood characters

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sarcasticsweetlara · 2 years ago

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Daenerys would have been a good queen too, I think if Alysanne wanted her to be queen without getting stripped of her power by Jaehaerys, then Alysanne would have had to marry her to someone else, like a Velaryon or someone from one of the Great Houses.

Daenerys, Jocelyn and Rhaenys were the queens the people deserved but didn't get in the end.

Crown Princesses of Westeros part one (part two/part three)

Aerea Targaryen — Heiress to King Maegor I

Daenerys Targaryen — Heiress to King Jaehaerys I

Jocelyn Baratheon — Wife of Prince Aemon

Rhaenys Targaryen — Heiress to Prince Aemon

Laena Velaryon — Heiress to Princess Rhaenys

Baela Targaryen — Heiress to King Aegon III

Rhaena Targaryen — Heiress to King Aegon III

Daena Targaryen — Heiress to King Baelor I

Jena Dondarrion — Wife of Prince Baelor

Kiera of Tyrosh — Wife of Prince Valarr

#Jocelyn Baratheon #Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Aemon and Jocelyn)#rhaenys the queen who never was #aerea targaryen #baela targaryen #daena targaryen #jena dondarrion #kiera of tyrosh #Laena Velaryon (daughter of Corlys and Rhaenys)#rhaena the last dragonrider #rhaena targaryen (daughter of daemon and laena)#rhaena the dragon twin #daenerys the first #Daenerys Targaryen (daughter of Jaehaerys I and Alysanne)

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bohemian-nights · 1 year ago

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What We May Mend (Chapter 1)

Word Count: ~6,908

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Laena Velaryon

Warnings: Difficult Childbirth; Attempted Suicide

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them.

AN: Basically, no one is writing for them(which is a crime if you ask me). I’ve gotten multiple asks about them so here is my attempt at giving Laena the happy ending she deserved😊 Keeping that in mind, this is a multi-chaptered work based on show canon(which means physical descriptions including the lack of violet eyes among others will be left out). I'm planning around 5-7 chapters, but that may change 🐉

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Death was a foreign concept to her. As foreign as the Golden Empire of Yi Ti, whatever lay west of the Iron Isles, or even the wild plains of the barren North. Driftmark was a fortress of life. Neither melancholy nor illness plagued her childhood. Her parents had not been taken away before their time from battle nor sickness. Her brother, cousins, and uncle had been blessed with good health and fortune as well. There was laughter, adventure, and childish mischief to be found in abundance.

Lady Laena Velaryon had known that many girls could not count themselves half as lucky as herself. Not even her cousin Princess Rhaenyra whose mother had died before she had reached her fifteenth nameday, but the silver-haired cooper-skinned Velaryon girl had not given much thought to death. The stranger had rarely visited the isles' rocky shores and all but once entered the white stone walls of High Tide to call home its inhabitants. On that one occasion, Lady Jocelyn Baratheon had been enveloped in the stranger's embrace.

Laena was but five when her grandmother passed on to the realm beyond that of the living. ‘Twas on the eve of her sixth nameday. She could recall the tall once black-haired woman whose hair had turned gray in the final year of her life well enough at that moment when she was closer to the Stranger than death itself.

Age had not withered her regal continence nor rendered her unable to speak fondly of the early days of her elder half-brother's reign, the old king Jaehaerys, Laena’s grandfather though she could not recall, who had passed on a mere year past. True enough the Baratheon lady had never fully forgiven the man for his slight against Laena’s mother, but perhaps it was nostalgia that caused her to look upon those days with longing wistfulness. The world is always brighter when viewed from afar.

It was those early days that were happiest. That seemed as if the Old King's golden reign would stretch on for an age. That the fate of the blood of the dragon, the last dragonriders of old Valyria was assured at long last, but those days had turned sour. Leaving behind only the bitter taste of ruefulness on the tongue.

Jocelyn Baratheon was the last of the old lot. Her brother, Lord Baratheon, who was as fierce a defender of her daughter as she herself, had gone shortly after the Old King. Her beloved husband, the crown prince, the only man she had ever known, her Aemon, was taken before his time at the hands of vipers. She was to be his queen and yet he never wore his crown.

Her half-sister Good Queen Alysanne, her only sister, more a mother than a sister for she was the only mother she had ever known, she had died of woe long ago from all her heartache.

All were gone. She alone was what remained of them. Of a time that had faded away and lived on only in the memories of the few.

The once great Baratheon lady had grown weary at a court she no longer recognized. The faces had changed, but she had not. She had come to Driftmark to be among her family. The house of her mother who had given her life to bring her into this world would be her final resting place. Her refuge.

“You have his eyes.” She had given Laena a half smile as she lay in her bed wheezing. A frail hand the color and shape of bone reached up to touch her cheek. Her lady grandmother had caught a chill that she could not shake. The first time she had struck ill, Laena was told, since she was sick with the shivers as a wee girl an age ago. She had taken to reading to her every night while her mother braided her hair. Easing her mind while she slipped away from her flesh.

It had been peaceful when she finally passed on. Dying in her sleep. A look of contentment upon her pallid face when a serving girl found her the next morning. A natural end to a full life. It was Laenan’s mother's wails reverberating off the walls afterward that made it so sorrowful. She had taken to her own bed for the fortnight that followed. Her sobs drowned out the waves that crashed on the shore.

Not even her father's sweet temptations with little trinkets, a fool, and singers from all the seven kingdoms and across the Narrow Sea bring back light to her eyes. Not even his boisterous laughter or that of her uncle, the gossip of her aunt, or the gaggles of her cousins filled their halls, and soon enough the sea called with the waxing oh the moon for her father and he went with it. She and Laenor did their best to cheer their dear mother up in their father’s absence, but the stranger was a cruel foe. Their home became as quiet as a tomb for that short time.

Her mother only dared to venture out from chambers when Laenor had received a gash and sprained his ankle when he had done what all growing boys were prone to do. Sought for action where there was none in a castle that had fallen victim to the Stranger. “Get down from there, Laenor.” She had said running to a tree at the mouth of the cove. She had flown out of the castle like a bat fresh out of the seven hells. Her long silvery-gray hair once had been black trailing after her. Hazel irises widened with panic. A mother's fright, one Laena would know well in time.

“Come to me.” She had motioned him to climb down from the ledge where he had fallen to. “That's it, my love.” When Laenors leg had been set to right and her mother's fears abated that night, laughter returned to Hide Tide once more, and death remained an ever-present shadow looming in the background. Waiting for the moment to strike once more.

No matter how foreign the stranger may seem, Laena supposed her life was shaped by death. If her grandsire had not been killed before her grandsire had died her mother would be the queen. She may be heir to the Iron Throne or rather Laenor would and she would be his queen in the tradition of their Targaryen forbearers. Though the thought of that minor detail made her stomach roll even now.

Though she supposed whatever would’ve happened, whatever way the dice had landed if she were she would not be here right now. In a foreign distant land. Among strangers. Bleeding out upon white sheets. Her lifeblood steadily slipped away from her. As sure as the sands empty into the bottom of the hourglass. Grain by grain.

It was a strange experience. Laena could not see the stranger, but she felt him there in these humid chambers. Right there beside her. Over her shoulder. Breathing down the back of her neck. Causing the hairs on her damp neck to stick up and stand on their ends. Death clung like a second skin. Waiting for the pain to run its course and drain what was left of her before he called her back with him.

She had known pain before. A broken arm from falling off a tree. Climbing to see the last of her father's warships head off to the Stepstones. A cut upon her foot from Laenors first sword grazed the skin when she had dropped it, not realizing how heavy it would be to wield it. The cramps radiated out from her abdomen when she got her moon blood and was bedridden for the first night. A bruised rib when she made her maid lace her stays tight enough to show off her figure during the visit of a visiting Sealord and his son from Bravos who later be engaged to for a time. and the hundred times after that for each suitor that came to Driftmarks rocky shore all ending with one.

She had known the pains of the birthing bed well enough. Laena had taken to it twice now. The first time had been long and rather taxing. She labored for a day and a half. She had not thought she would make it lying there upon sweat soaked and the Gods know what else sheets, twisting herself into a ball, but then out came Baela. Her fearless girl. A little red squalling babe with a set of lungs upon her that alerted the whole manse of her arrival.

Rhaena’s labor had been quick. A mere two hours after her pains began did she pop out into the world. A tiny thing she was. Smaller than her sister, quieter too, but just as precious in the eyes of her young mother. Where her birth had been easier than Baela’s, what followed afterward had not.

Laena had bled for a fortnight straight. Apart from short jaunts to take a turn around the gardens she was regulated to the confines of her chambers for a moon. Much to her displeasure, she was too weak to feed her daughter from her own breast. A wet nurse had to be called for while she spent her days in bed.

The recovery had been a slow one, but she had recovered. She had become herself again, her girls blossomed, and the pain of the birthing bed had become a distant memory. This, however, was different.

The Stranger had visited with the night this time. Such pain he brought. Laena could feel him in her bones. Exhaustion seeped through every pore. As if every muscle in her body craved to give in. To give up. To meet the stranger who held his hand for him to join her in his cold embrace.

Never before had she felt so unlike herself. Tired. She was so very tired. She could no longer push. Been instructed not to push even if she could. Her legs were numb. Her silver curls painted to her clammy forehead with her own sweat.

Her eyes desperately wanted to shut. Calling for rest. A moment of respite. Her arms ached from holding herself up hunched over the bed. From the near-death grip of the midwives hand. Even lifting her fingers to inch up the bedpost for a tighter hold was a strain.

Laena burned with something she could not name. A foggy bog that she seeped into overpowering her, but some part of her kept her in a hazy state of half-dream half-wake. A candle flickering in the wind. The past and the present intertwined in its dimming glow.

She could hear the waves crashing back on coming in from the open window that had meant to cool her down. The room frayed. Faces came in and out of view. Switching between her mother's smile and the nurse's worried pallid face as she wiped the beads of sweat off her brow. Voices muffled and low as if they came from the other end of a cavernous tunnel and yet she kept a hold to the last shreds of her wit and strength. A tiny ember. The last snuff before the light went out.

“My brave girl.” She could make that out with startling clarity. It came from her princely husband. They stood huddled up in a half-shadowed corner of the chamber whispering to themselves, the healer having left her side. He was a swarthy man who sweat like a pig. If he did not open his mouth one would think he was Dornish. Laena was not particularly fond of him.

There was something in his person, in his manner of address which, how he always deferred to her husband which made her uneasy. She wished to be back within the safety and care that could be found at her father's house, surrounded by her cousins and aunts who would fuss over her, with her mother by her side who, or at least have a maester who knew her body better and would not act as if mere paranoia was the cause of her woe, but she had little choice in the manner of her present circumstances.

“The magister has healers who will take care of you Laena.” Daemon had replied when she confronted him in the library where he spent his days. Obsessing over their family's history twirling a glass of sweet wine from the magister's cellars in his hand.

It was a final plea, a desperate plea for she had asked him a dozen times before throughout this pregnancy where she felt her body weakening little by little with every passing day, but he dismissed her with his usual care. Placing a kiss on her belly as their babe greeted his father with a little kick before he went back to his reading. There was no room for argument. He was in one of his moods. He was always in a mood.

Her husband had replied to what the healer spoke in that absent-minded way of his. The way that reminded her his mind was a thousand leagues away. Across a narrow sea. To the alleyways, taverns, and well-tread roads that made up King’s Landing to his ailing brother, to the Iron Throne, or perhaps even his beloved niece. Laena could not tell. Not anymore. Mayhaps she never could.

Or mayhaps she had been the occupier of his attentions and affections at one point. Perhaps it had been she who evoked his passion. Before Baela when they had first wed? When he had whisked her away to this place from her home. Winning her hand away from the Braavosi Sealord's son with the plunge of Dark Sister through his skull. The excitement of it. He had always been one for the dramatics in the most spectacularly brutal fashion.

Basking in the glow of his victory. Claiming his prize. A bride of his own choosing. A Valyrian bride to wash the stain off his ill-favored union with Rhea Royce. The vale-bride that had been chosen for him. The bride he never wanted nor favored.

Her father, the great sea snake, was all too keen to give him her hand. To give him his prize for ridding him of an unfavorable match despite his dear wife’s protests. Despite the whispers that swarmed him. He killed my cousin. Blushed her to death. Budgeted her to beyond recognition He’s the devil.

Laena herself ignored their tales and dismissed her own mother's warnings. “He is charming, but charming men seldom make for good husbands, my sweet girl. Let us find you some lord who will make you laugh.”

She did not need some simpleton who would make her laugh. She had someone who made her feel more than that. She had someone who caused her belly to erupt with flutters when he threw a smile her way or his pale green eyes met dark ones.

He was not particularly handsome, his lips were too thin and his brow was hairless and prominent. His face was rather primal, but he was tall, his jaw strong, and there was something magnetic about him. Daemon Targaryen could command a room with a single glance. Why should she not want him? Why should she not have him?

She was Lady Laena Velaryon. She was the blood of old Valyria through and through. She came from not one, but two ancient and proud lines. Even her Baratheon blood was forged in the flames of Valyria. She was the dragonrider of the largest and oldest dragon in the known world. The last living vestige from the time of the conqueror.

The Rogue Prince wanted her. He had wanted her by his side. To be his wife. To bear his children. He saw who she was and he wanted her. They were the blood of old Valyria. Like called to like. They were made for each other. She was his match. She was his wife.

Wife was just a title she learned. She was so very naive then. Young and in love with the idea of him. An ideal was not enough nor was a title. It did not keep one warm at night. Comfort one when their heart aches. Or while they were bedridden with sickness.

No, Daemon Targaryen had not married her for such feelings of adoration and cherishment. He had married her for an empty title. For her name. Still, she liked to think that she had been enough for him. That she had been what he had wanted. That he had wanted her for more. That they had a chance the same as any other.

Mayhaps after Baela they still had hope? When he thought that she might give him the solace he looked for. The peace he craved. what he made no effort to hide.

She had given him a girl to be sure, but there would be more babes to follow. Her own mother had given her father a girl first then her brother came. Why should it not be the same for her?

She was still young and healthy. Had just celebrated her seventeenth name day. Daemon himself was in the prime of his life at six and thirty. There would be babes a plenty. “The next one shall be a boy husband.” He did not say anything. In fact, he seemed rather in awe of the tiny red-faced babe in his arms. Taking her little hand broken free from her swaddle to wrap around his pointer finger. Bringing the small fist up to his lips to place upon as he stared down at her, utterly entranced, but she knew.

When a letter from Kings Landing arrived announcing the birth of Jacaerys Velaryons she knew. She saw the light gone in his eyes. In how he did not let the wine in his cup go empty. She knew what she must do. What she must give him. It was a son he wanted. Just a son. A son and he would be happy. A son and they would be happy. She would give Daemon Targaryen his sons.

After she had almost given him his long-desired heir, but had only delivered another girl? Did she dare hope then? This one was more of a disappointment than the last for she was not even a dragonrider. Her egg withered in her cradle. Turned to stone. There was no use for the girl. For their sweet Rhaena.

What was one to do with two girls and no son in sight? No heir. Two girls. Ten years gone by and all she had given him was two girls. Every raven arrived from home a bitter reminder. Son after son. Year after year. A full life lived across the Narrow Sea. A life he was no party to. A son was not all he wanted.

How he burned those letters and stiffened at the mere mention of her name. At the suggestion that they return. Your brother would surely find you a position at court. Dismissing her words with a smile that did not reach his eyes and a swig of Pentos wine. Pouring over text and drinking himself to bed. Baela only managed to win his attention with her Valyrian or their rides. The better part of him. Rhaena was lucky if she got so much as a good night kiss from her dear kepa. Her failure.

Yes, wife was only a title. For there were some days he would not even come to her bed. Those days were better despite their loneliness. He was drunk when he climbed on top of her and put this babe in her. Pushing her into the bed. Pushing into her. One thrust. Two Three. In and out. She lost count. Merely trying to distract herself from the dull ache of the stretch.

“Forgive me.” He left her lying there as his seed slipped from her heat. Hastily throwing on his clothes as he scrambled out of the chamber. She did not see him until the next night at dinner. Having to sit through it with a smile that pulled at her mouth from its strain as he and the Magister discussed his son's return from Braavos. A handsome boy with a head of brown curls who was a mere two years Baela’s senior. He was apt to introduce them. Her husband could not seem more delighted by the prospect.

She did not make him content. She was not the wife he wished for. Her failures in the birthing bed proved that. Her failings to bring him his desires prove that. Laena Velaryon was a disappointment.

He could not even look at her. She lay in her deathbed, soiled, blood pouring from her at an alarming rate and he could only spare her half a glance before he moved it back to whatever it was that captured his attention on the stone floor underneath him. He did not notice her. Not even now.

Mayhaps he never had. Not really. Why turn his attention, his affections to her? She had never been what he wanted, only a thing he had settled for. She was always a thing that he was burdened with. What he had settled for. A prize, indeed. A consolation prize.

A Valyrian wife, but the wrong Valyrian wife. Children that were just Targaryen enough, but just as Velaryon in truth as they were Targaryen. A life of comfort and ease, but no action. Close, but not quite. Not what he truly wanted. Second choice. She was his second choice.

The Stranger mocked her with his silence. She could feel him and yet he said nothing. Just waiting. Waiting for her own body to give now the rest was gone. Now that she could not avoid it. Could he laugh? Mayhaps? Mayhaps not.

“We could pry open the womb.” He stuttered ever so slightly. Ringing that cloth covered in her blood and tears in his hand. She felt a chill run up her spine. The Stranger reached to hold out his hand. Waiting.” Try to remove the infant by way of the blade.”

“Would the mother survive it?” Her husband had turned his body away from her. He would never notice her. The healer shook his bowed head. A quiet no confirmation fell from his lips. It was he who looked as if he saw a ghost. Her life for her babes. If that. She knew how this tale would end.

No, she had never been what he wanted. She could not give him what he wanted. Second choice. She who had burdened him with her failings. With her inadequacies. She who could perhaps serve him better in death than she ever could in life. The cold reached her shoulder.

Would he notice if she slipped from the room? Into the night air? Just beyond the castle's walls? Made her way to Vhagar? Grabbed his hand? Ran into the Strangers embrace?

A dragonriders death. Or at least death at the hands of something which she loved. Something which did care for her. Something that did not which to only take from her.

Yes, that was preferable to this. Preferable to being carved like a stuffed pig. Served up for a grand feast. A feast worthy of a prince.

He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed when she pushed the maids away who tried to hold. She pulled herself up on shaky legs to make her way to the door of the chamber. He hadn’t noticed. A wide-eyed mousy girl shrieked a my lady when she slipped through the doorway. The others gawked with open mouths like a fish gasping for breath on land with horror. Not speaking a word at her retreating feverish figure hunched over, but he hadn’t noticed.

“Mother,” Laena thought she had heard. Thought she’d seen a little brown worried face peeking out of the nursery that she shared with her sister. Baela for she was too tall to be her sister. Their host had been gracious enough to offer them chambers of their own, but the girls were as thick as thieves. They could not be separated nor should they be.

She ignored that small voice. The call of a mother. She did not want to know if it was real or a figment of her clouded mind. A trick of her imagination conjured up by the Stranger. Prayed it was only a mirage.

Baela was asleep, warm in her bed. Dreaming of the trip her father had promised he would take her on the morrow. Riding on the back of Caraxes. Her dragon was too small to mount, but she already had a taste for the skies. “Faster kepa. Faster.” She’d say as she would cry with glee. The wind would whip around their faces as they dove and gilded through open blue causing her eyes to water with happy tears.

“Eglikta, nyke jaelagon naejot jikagon eglikta.” Higher, I want to go higher. Her Valyrian would be clunky, but she improving. Soon she’d be better than her mother. Would be better than her.

Laena hoped Daemon would keep to that promise. Perhaps he’d bring Rhaena along with them. The girls would need a distraction. Surely no one would fault him for providing them with one. He’d want to do it. He’d be relieved to be out. He was never one to be idle and she doubted that would change on account of her absence. He’d be free.

Of course, he’d have to mourn her propriety’s sake. For six moons, a year, a very long year, but any bit of freedom he’d have during this mourning he’d welcome. Relish in it. Yes, he’d take her riding tomorrow and the next day after.

That little voice did not follow her on her hobble down the corridor. Nor were her ears met with the little patter of bare feet other than her on stone. It seems the mother was kind enough to grant her one. Her babies were asleep safe in their beds. With not a care in the world.

With a shaky hand upon the banister, Laena turned the corner leaving the guest quarters towards the backstairs that the magister's servants use. It was safer that way. If anyone should come looking for her they’d think she’d use the ones. They’d look for her there. Not creeping around like a beggar woman.

No one followed her. No one looked for her. Not a single soul. There was some relief in that. If they had happened across her they would surely force her back. Back to that chamber. Back into that soiled bed. A lamb for slaughter.

She felt the chill upon leaving the warmth of the manse. It had not been a particularly cool day, but the nights in Pentos were cooled by a western breeze from the bay that bordered its shores. Cool enough to need a cloak of one we’re to venture out for a night stroll, but not Laena felt as if she had stumbled into winter.

Goosebumps erupting over her sticky bronze skin. Every step felt like she walked in water. Her legs felt like lead. She knew if she were to look down at her feet she’d be met with the sight of her lifeblood. If she were to stop she would collapse into the dirt and never get. Mayhaps she was not as careful as she thought for anyone could find her, but it would soon matter not.

She was close. So very close. Home. She was almost home. Away from here. Away from the cold. Away from the pain. Nothing could touch her. She would feel nothing. Not the sharp edge of the healer's blade that would pierce her belly. Not Daemon’s disappointment. Not her own longing for what she could never give. A life that would never be hers. With a kiss from her dragon's flame, it would all end.

It was only by the Stranger's hand that she made it to Vhagar. Stumbling over the pieces of gravel beneath her feet. The pain made her double over. Dropping to her knees. Bowing her head. Pleading. Begging her for release.To be free.

“Vhagar Dracarys. Dracarys. Dracarys. Dracarys. Dracarys.” She had croaked it out half a dozen times to the old dragon, but she would not move. Her voice grew weaker with every plea Threatened to give out. Already sore from screaming, she continued on. She saw no other way. Descending into tears, but tears did little to endear Vhagar to help her. Remaining as unmoved as ever.

Her mouth opened and closed over and over, but she made no move to bring forth fire. To end her riders' suffering. “Dracarys.” She would not move. Only fanning Laena’s damp face with hot dry air. Not a flame to be seen. No orange glow cast.

“Dracarys.” Another wave of pain came over her. It was hard to breathe through it. To force air through her lungs so that she may speak.

“Dracarys.” A whisper. A final plea. Yet she did nothing. Unbowing her head so that brown met golden red. She pleaded with her eyes for Laena had no voice left in her. Her gaze went soft. A lamb begging for the Shepherd to guide her. To save her from the wolves.

Pity was there. Reluctance too. A resistance to do as she was bid. Like a dog commanded to leave his wounded master on a hunt. but that pity had one out. Understanding. Just for a moment. She understood what she wanted.

Vhagar opened her ancient mouth to reveal an orange glow. A glow that burned her skin, feeling the heat making her sweater soon blister and peel if she were to keep at this distance, but that would be the last pain she would feel. For the glow would burn bright and engulf her in its fiery bite. Laena raised her head. Closing her eyes to meet the fire. Let me be free.

“Laena.” She heard his voice. In what would be her final moments left on this mortal plane it was his voice she heard. Carried across the dirt in the windless night. How cruel the Stranger was. He brought her here on her knees with pain shooting through her only to prolong her suffering. How he laughed at her expense. Stinging heat fading bit by bit. As if it had never been. The Stranger laughed indeed.

“No Vhagar.” The glow dimmed. It must have dimmed at the sound of her husband's panicked roar for Laena no longer felt its searing burn. She no longer could feel the brightness of light on her eyelids.

Her dragon had been released from her obligation. Given a choice. Vhagar came to with shame. Did a dragon have shame? Realization that what she was about to do was too rash? Too final? Too desperate. Nothing good ever came from desperation. Not even now while the Stranger made a joke of a dying woman.

The flap of wings reached her ears. With a gust of wind bringing back a chill to her bones. Vhagar deserted her. She was left alone with him.

Laena refused to open her eyes. Refused to see what had become of her. What was going to become of her. Mayhaps she could have tried to run, but she would not get very far. She did not think she could even pull herself to her feet much less hobble her way to wherever Vhagar had flown off to. It would be a crawl. A slow crawl. If that. Her lifeblood that left a steady trail from her womanhood painting her thighs crimson told her otherwise.

“You’re freezing Laena.” He wasted no time enveloping her in his arms. Tucking her carefully into his person. Placing an arm under her legs, the other bore the weight of her back while her head rested underneath his chin. Like a bride. Like how he had so very long ago. Her gown had been a lovely embroidered thing of white Myrish silk rather than the soiled nightgown she wore now. Not a single curl was out of place. Her silver mane shone in the candlelight. Her head had been crowned with a golden diadem. A single ruby placed at its center. She was a vision.

Daemon had refused the bedding ceremony that her uncle called for to carry her back to their chambers himself. Halfway along he had begun whispering something rather naughty into her virgin ears which caused her to burst into a fit of giggles as she was thrown over her groom's shoulder. There would be none of that now.

He must have been closer than she realized she decided. It’s the only way he reached her with such speed. He had no blanket nor cloak with him, but the heat coming off his person warmed her. He felt like a fire. Why was he so warm? Had he always been this warm? This solid?

She clung to him. Burying herself into his chest. Resting her silver curls into the pocket-marked skin of his neck that told the story of the man she loathed and loved. That he cradled their own babes into when they had been little things.

She did not wish to, but he was the only thing keeping her here. The only thing that was here. She longer felt the Stranger's ominous presence. His laughter in her head had left and had been replaced with a pounding in her head. There was only him now.

“What were you thinking?”I would've been free. I would have freed us both and then you would not have had to pretend as you do now. He was doing a good act of it.

“If you had left me. I would not be freezing.” Her voice was so very small. A murmur. A croak really. Hardly recognizable to her own ears. Did she really sound like that? Like an old woman? So very weak. If he had not placed her head near his ear would not have heard her.

“My darling.” He hadn’t called her that in a while. A long while. The last she had was on her twenty-fifth nameday. The night of her twenty-fifth name day. The last time they had truly made love. He had been sober. Gentle. Present.

He spoke her name with such reverence, whispered things into her ear which made her cheeks flush in heat with such tenderness. In the afterglow of their peaks, he had not pulled from her. They had simply laid their breathing each other in as he petted her. He made love with his words where his body had been spent and she savored every morsel of it, but she wouldn’t give too much thought to it now. Desperation caused one to speak falsities laced with honey.

Still, there was something, something in his voice, something thick and unsaid that caused her to open her eyes the slightest to meet his. Pulling herself from where she buried her head to find that they were glassy. Filled with unused tears. Threatening to spill from those green depths.

Laena had never seen him cry. Not once. Not even when she presented Baela to him. Her mother had said that her father could not stop crying when she had placed her in his outstretched arms, but not the Rogue Prince. Never Daemon Targaryen. It was shock , she decided. He was just in shock. She had shocked him.

“You’d be free of me. No healer’s blade required.” He’d be rid of her without another stain on his name. Without it weighing on his conscience. If he was even capable of feeling remorse through that dark haze of his.

“I won’t let them cut you Laena.” She laughed. Did she really mean so little to him? So little that he would not even give her the truth? Did he truly believe she was so naive? After being with him these ten years as his wife, that she knew nothing of him? Of how little his word meant when he gave it out so freely. When he spoke lies so freely from those pale lips. With his airs. His smirks. Mayhaps he believed his own versions of the truth. He had told so many of them. It must be hard to keep up with them, but she remembered.

“You will if it will give you the son you want.” It was men like him did. Proud men. Lords, princes, and kings alike. The need for an heir was too great to pass for men like them. ‘Twas what his brother had done. His wife’s life for a son, a babe who had only survived a night. His wife who he butchered for an heir that lived but a day.

Aemma Arryn had been no more with the swipe of a blade at the command of her husband. A command that left him plagued with guilt and regret and no proper heir to show for it. He had loved his wife, claimed to love her, and yet he murdered her all the same. All for a son. Such as men like him do.

A sharp pain ran through Laena’s abdomen. It had begun to dull before then. Distracted by her abandonment and the cold she felt in it, but that mind-numbing ache was a reminder that the worst was not over yet. That this fight was pointless. That him trying to save her, to make amends after ten years of misery was pointless. Daemon pulled her closer to his warmth, the lines upon his brow made all the more prominent with his worry, but it was no good.

She would still be dead by the end of it. Laena had found dying to be a rather exhausting business. There was no point in wasting any more breath on the matter. Her fate was inevitable.

“Take care of our girls or I shall haunt you.” Her last attempt at humor. Daemon did smile at it and Laena herself could find little amusement in it.

Her one regret. Leaving her girls alone in this world. It was selfish. To take her life so violently when she’d leave them behind. Without saying so much as a goodbye to them. It was heartless. To leave Daemon to pick up the pieces.

To explain to them what she had done. How does one explain that to a child? Why their mother would no longer be able to tuck them into bed at night. Why when they turned to find her smile they’d only find thin air. Why everything had changed in the blink of an eye.

Laena herself did not know what it was like to live without a mother. If RhaenysTargaryen had any faults it certainly did not lie with her mothering for she had always been there for her children. No septa, wetnurse, nor nanny could replace the comfort of a mother.

It was she who fretted over them when they were sick—staying up with them through the night wiping sweat from their brows, singing them lullabies, recounting stories of old to lull them to sleep. She who would kiss their bruises away. She who would listen to their woes without complaint. She who Laena could always depend upon. Only a raven need be sent and she would journey from the ends of the earth to her.

Her girls would be without that comfort, but they'd have her mother. That much she knew. Her mother would care for them as she had her and Laenor when they were little. That much Laena could take comfort in. They would not truly be alone. Just without her.

“You will take care of them yourself.” He must have lifted from the ground because the throbbing increased tenfold. With each step he took she could feel it moving through her. Shooting through her wave after wave. Her back, her belly, and her head were all burning. A stab here. A pinch there. She had thought she had known pain, known weakness, but this was all-consuming agony. She went limp in her husband’s hold.

He was with her, she knew he was holding her but he began to sound distant. The blood pounding in her head muffled his speech. It sounded as if they had journeyed into a dark cavern. She on one end of it, he on the other. His voice was a faint echo yet he would not cut that shallow cord of communication. “You will see them grow and have children of their own. You will not leave me. I will not let you leave me.”

At his last words, his voice broke with a choking sob. A hitch in his breath shook her. Something wet landed on the apple of her cheek. Making its way to her chapped lips. The taste of salt left a kiss upon them.

Mayhaps she had thought too cruelly of him. It was not every day that one witnessed their wife attempting to light herself on fire to escape them. Mayhaps there was sincerity. Something. Yes, something other than the darkness that resided in him.

“You’ll die old in your bed Laena. I promise you—” If he had made any other promises Laena did not know. The pain became too much for her to keep awake. Her eyes fluttered shut before they reached the manse.

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