#valaena would be as beautiful as her mother

[sarcasticsweetlara]

Unlike a certain putrid and rotten bunch of people belonging to this House whose line thanks to the Goddess Syrax has died out, these girls are the best combination of two worlds.

And they would be more like HighGaryens due to their mom being a Targaryen who through her gorgeous daughters completely targified House Hightower as they were wed to the sons of Lyonel and Samantha, the sons of Martin and other Hightower cousins, thus taking over the entire House.

For me it would be like this:

- Jeyne HighGaryen who is Rhaena's rainbow baby after the loss of her first baby conceived from her first marriage to Corwyn Corbray, Jeyne was named for Rhaena's second mentor (the first one was Rhaenyra) who taught her about the importance of soft power.

- Valaena HighGaryen in honor of the mother of the Conquerors and for Rhaena's own mother Laena, honoring both the Velaryon and Targaryen sides of her family.

- Lianna Hightower I guess Rhaena would like to give her daughter a name that was both an ode to her Targaryen/Velaryon side and a new start.

- Jocelyn HighGaryen in honor of Rhaena's great-grandmother who was fiercely loyal and defensive of her family, who fought for the rights of Rhaena's grandmother.

- Daenaera HighGaryen because I think Rhaena will honor her sister-in-law just like she was honored as well, Daenaera loved her as an older sister and Rhaena saw in Daenaera a figure of a younger sister.

- Maegelle HighGaryen for Rhaena's great-aunt (the closest sister to Rhaena's paternal grandmother) Maegelle Targaryen, who played an important role in being a conciliator for her family and cared for the Smallfolk.

They would wear grey, because if you don't know it, grey is the actual color of House Hightower, search it.

They would bring back the study of alchemy and necromancy into this House.

Daemon would be so proud seeing his granddaughters took over the Hightowers and have turned them into beta-targaryens.

Garmund + Rhaena =

Possible Targtower names:

Valaena mother of the conqueror and of course mother Laena

Jeyne for Jeyne Arryn who fostered Rhaena

Rosamund flower name for the reach and Garmund’s name

Daenaera kind of a stretch but she loved Queen Daenaera. I also like Daenys

Orea after Orys Baratheon and half Baratheon grandmother and Garmund’s father Ormund

Baeryssa pretty combo for Targtower common names for Baela

Rhaeys bringing back the Rhae- because Targaryens will never get rid of that

[imaginarianisms]

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

After a confrontation with Daemon, Valaena reveals details of her past with Aemond.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Confrontation, Reminicising, Memories, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Lactation Kink, Fingering, Oral Sex, Smut, P in V, Semi Public, Caught Having Sex.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4300 (Bit of short one).

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena sat beneath the shade of a blossoming tree, the gentle sounds of her children’s laughter filling the garden as Rhaegar and Elaena chased one another in wide, happy circles.

Daenys sat beside Lirri, babbling loudly as she clapped her little hands, her laughter and copious amounts of drool bubbled up as Arro watched over them, a protective shadow nearby.

The hatchlings, Sapphyre, Hūra and Valerion, stretched out in the sun, their wings unfurled to catch the warm rays, with Sapphyre’s watchful eye never leaving Rhaegar.

Above, Valaena caught sight of a large shadow sweeping over the garden—the unmistakable form of Vhagar, gliding through the sky.

Behind her followed Sunfyre, Tessarion, and Dreamfyre, their scaled bodies glinting in the sunlight.

Valaena couldn’t help but smile, thinking of Aemond and his siblings soaring together through the sky, reconnecting in a way that only dragon riders could.

“You have mothers glow my lady” said Lirri softly.

“I-I do?” asked Valaena smiling as she gently rubbed her swollen stomach.

“Yes, I can see why my lord likes to plant seed”

“Lirri-” gasped Valaena blushing.

Rhaegar then trotted up to her, proudly holding out his hand. “Look, Mama. Look!” he exclaimed, a tiny red-and-black insect resting on his palm.

“Oh, how beautiful. Do you know what it is?” Valaena said, leaning towards her son.

���No mama. What is it?” said Rhaegar shaking his head.

“Its called a lady bird”

Rhaegar scrunched his face in confusion. “But birds have feathers,” he said, studying the little bug.

Valaena chuckled softly. “I know, sweetling. But this one isn’t a bird it’s a type of beetle, it’s just named a ladybird,” she explained.

Elaena skipped over; her violet eyes bright as she looked down at her brother’s discovery. “It’s pretty,” she said in awe, reaching out a small finger.

The ladybird crawled delicately over Rhaegar’s hand, and he giggled, his eyes shining. “It tickles, Mama!”

“Did you know that there are some people who say that if a ladybird lands on you, flies off and then lands on another, then that person will be your true love,” Valaena said, smiling as Rhaegar’s eyes grew round with wonder.

“Really?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Valaena nodded, watching the gentle creature as it crawled. “And you see those little spots on her back?” she continued. “People say that’s how old they are. Would you like to count them?”

Rhaegar and Elaena leaned in together, counting in hushed tones as Valaena pointed. “I count five,” she said.

Rhaegar’s face lit up with a delighted grin. “She’s the same age as me!”

“She is,” Valaena agreed.

Rhaegar looked down at the beetle with fondness. “I want to keep her,” he whispered.

Valaena smoothed a hand over his silver hair. “She’s a living creature, my darling, and she needs to be free. She might even have a family somewhere, waiting for her. You wouldn’t want to keep her from them, would you?”

Rhaegar shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No, Mama.”

Valaena placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “That’s my good boy.”

Together, they watched as the ladybird spread her wings and fluttered into the air, a small red-and-black dot vanishing into the blue.

Rhaegar and Elaena both waved after her, calling out little goodbyes.

But then Valaena felt a presence and looked up to find Daemon standing nearby, watching her.

His expression was unreadable as his gaze shifted from her to her children, lingering on each in turn before settling back on her.

After a few minutes of silent observation, Daemon approached, his gait slow and steady, but Sapphyre alerted by the presence of a stranger snarled loudly, his eyes narrowing with warning.

Rhaegar stepped in, his small voice calm but firm as he commanded, "Lykirī, Sapphyre." Sapphyre’s tail lashed the ground hard, and his teeth were bared but he quickly obeyed, moving to shield his rider. (Be Calm).

Hūra, too, positioned herself protectively in front of Elaena, who clutched her blankey, watching Daemon warily.

Valaena rose, brushing the grass from her skirts, her expression sharp as she turned to Lirri.

"Would you please take the children back to their chambers?"

"Yes, my lady," Lirri replied, scooping Daenys up and offering a hand to Elaena.

With a final scathing glare at Daemon, Rhaegar called, "Māzīs, Sapphyre-" (Come).

As the dragons followed the children, Sapphyre’s gaze locked onto Daemon, viciously snapping at him as he passed.

Only when they were gone did Valaena face Daemon fully, her arms crossing over her chest.

Daemon broke the silence first, his tone stiff. "That boy of yours has a strong bond with his dragon."

Valaena’s eyes were hard. "What do you want, Daemon?"

Daemon shifted, letting out a slow sigh. "I came to apologize for last night. I didn’t mean—"

"-Drunk words are sober thoughts," Valaena cut him off coldly. "You meant every fucking word."

Daemon’s jaw tightened. "Of all the men you could’ve fallen for, why did it have to be him?" he asked, his voice betraying an edge of frustration.

She scoffed. "Does your hatred of Otto Hightower run so deep that you would scorn Aemond without even giving him a chance?”

Daemon’s gaze darkened. “Otto Hightower was a fucking cunt,” he spat, the venom evident in his tone.

"And, I suppose, you believe Aemond to be the same," Valaena shot back.

“That one eyed cunt lured you away from your family” snapped Daemon.

“When are you going to get it through your head that we did what we did because there was no other way for us to be together, you made that perfectly clear when you opened your big mouth last night”

“You allowed yourself to be manipulated-”

“When will you realise that I’m not some weakling maiden who is so easily seduced by sweetened words whispered in my ear” said Valaena.

“He is a slithering green snake who saw an opportunity and he took it” exclaimed Daemon.

“-Why can’t you accept that I’m capable of making my own fucking choices?" snapped Valaena

Daemon sighed, his voice strained. "Valaena, I—"

But she raised a hand, silencing him.

“Arro” said Valaena firmly.

Arro appeared almost instantly, quickly stepping into the garden from the terrace. “Yes, Princess”

"Will you remove this loathsome cur from my sight."

Arro nodded. “Of course, my lady.” He turned to Daemon, his stance firm and unyielding. “This way, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon’s lips thinned, but he turned on his heel and began to walk away.

He had almost reached the edge of the garden when Valaena called, "-Oh and Daemon." He stopped, looking back with an unreadable expression.

"Stay away from my children." Her voice was unyielding, and her gaze unwavering.

Daemon held her gaze for a long, tense moment before he turned and disappeared from the garden without another word.

Valaena sat beside her mother, her fingers tracing absent patterns along her dress, a small ache in her chest as she spoke.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Mother," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the wall "But I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the only man I’ll ever love."

Rhaenyra took her daughter’s hand, her touch warm and gentle. "I know," she whispered, giving Valaena’s hand a small squeeze. Her eyes softened with grief held close. "But thinking I’d lost another daughter-it was a pain beyond anything I’ve ever known. Even when I was young, when I lost my own mother-it never hurt like that-"

Valaena’s gaze softened. "Mother-"

Rhaenyra’s voice wavered, just slightly. "For ten days, I searched for you. I needed to know-to see with my own eyes if you were truly gone, to see of any trace lingered-"

Valaena’s eyes softened. “My cloak-”

Rhaenyra nodded. “It washed up on the shore,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She reached into her sleeve and produced the broken silver dragon chain, placing it in Valaena’s palm. “I found this, too.”

Valaena’s fingers closed around it, the cool metal familiar in her hand. “You kept it.”

“I couldn’t part with it,” Rhaenyra admitted.

“Mother-”

“-I remember when I first gave it to you—right after you claimed Silverwing.” Her lips curved in a bittersweet smile. “You cried because it was too large for you, but you grew into it soon enough.”

Valaena laughed softly, the memory easing the ache in her chest.

Rhaenyra reached forward, tucking a loose strand of Valaena’s dark hair behind her ear with a tenderness that only a mother could have.

“I know Daemon’s words were harsh,” she continued. “But please, try to forgive him.”

Valaena shook her head. “But he—”

Rhaenyra interrupted, a sadness in her gaze. “In truth, your death hit Daemon harder than he’s ever let on. Having a favourite among one’s children isn’t something one should admit out loud, but you were his. He loved you fiercely, Valaena.”

Valaena’s face softened, though confusion lingered in her eyes. “Then why didn’t he just say that?”

Rhaenyra sighed. “You know how Daemon is. It’s easier for him to show anger than love, especially when he’s hurting.”

Valaena stared at the broken chain, brushing her fingers over the tarnished silver links.

“But why all the anger at Aemond?” Valaena asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together as she thought. “He needs someone to blame. And unfortunately, Aemond is his target.”

“But it’s not Aemond’s fault,” Valaena insisted, exasperated.

Rhaenyra squeezed her hand. “I know that, and so do you. But Daemon has convinced himself that Aemond manipulated you into faking your death.” She scoffed, giving her daughter a knowing smile. “But I know my girl, and there’s no way you would have fallen for such a thing. You are more dragon than most.”

Valaena smiled wryly. “It’s a pity Daemon doesn’t share that same sentiment.”

“I think he still sees you as that little girl who once begged him to teach her how to wield a sword or how to sneak extra helpings of pudding at dinner-"

Valaena smiles at the memory “But it still doesn’t absolve him of the horrible things he said about Aemond”

Rhaenyra shook her head, a bemused smile on her lips. "Oh, don’t you worry my girl there are many ways I can punish him for his slanders,

Valaena wrinkled her nose. "I’m not sure I want to know what that entails."

Rhaenyra laughed, giving her daughter a knowing look. "Oh, don’t be so coy, Valaena. You’re a mother now; you know the workings between a man and wife."

Valaena blushed, smiling in spite of herself. "In all fairness, Mother, I was doing those things with Aemond long before we became husband and wife."

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, glancing around to make sure they were alone before she leaned in closer. "And how is it, between the two of you? Is he a giving lover?"

A deep blush crept over Valaena’s cheeks. "Are we really having this conversation?"

"Why not?" Rhaenyra grinned. "You’re my daughter; we can talk about anything. So, is he?"

A soft, shy smile played on Valaena’s lips. "Yes. Aemond is very giving."

Rhaenyra laughed, delighted. "It feels good to be desired does it not?”

Valaena nods “Yes, its certainly does”

Rhaenyra reached for a cup of wine and offered one to Valaena who politely declined, she then took a deep breath “So tell me about you and Aemond-”

Valaena’s eyes sparkled as she watched her mother lean in, her curiosity piqued. "What do you want to know, Mother?" she asked with a soft laugh.

Rhaenyra took a moment to consider. "When was your first kiss?"

Valaena’s gaze grew distant, a gentle smile appearing on her lips as she recalled the memory. “It was just before you took us to Dragonstone. We went to the weirwood tree, and he promised me that when we were grown, we’d get married” She paused, a light blush colouring her cheeks. “-And then we kissed. It was only a quick peck on the lips, but it was the first.”

Rhaenyra smiled, both tender and amused. "You were so young then.”

Valaena’s blush deepened. “Yes, but it meant everything at the time.”

Rhaenyra seemed to study her daughter’s face, taking in the depth of her emotions. “And after Driftmark?” she asked carefully. “How did your friendship survive?”

“Aemond knew I wasn’t to blame for what happened,” Valaena replied softly. “He knew I tried to help him. For a while, it was just letters—our way of staying close. I’d write to him, and he’d write back-”

“How did you manage to keep that quiet, surely I would have noticed your regular correspondence?”

“Oh, well I would send them under the guise of writing to Helaena, and it was Maester Gerardys who would send them for me, until I got a little older anyway and then I sent them myself and I may or may not have said if anyone found out then I’d feed them to Silverwing-”

“Maester Gerardys?” asked Rhaenyra her eyebrows raised.

“Yes. He’s a good man mother” replied Valaena.

“I know he is. So how did the relationship between you and Aemond progress?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

“When I was old enough to ride Silverwing on my own, we would arrange to meet in secret,” Valaena said, a wistful smile playing at her lips.

“So that’s where you would disappear too” said Rhaenyra wistfully.

“In the beginning we just spent time with each other, he struggled a lot after he lost his eye. Small things were harder for him, and there were times where I would just read to him, or he’d lie with his head in my lap while I stroked his hair.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened. “I never knew the extent of his suffering-”

Valaena met her mother’s eyes with a gentle but pointed look. “Because you didn’t want to.”

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, a faint regret shadowing her gaze. “And then?”

“One night, he came to me crying,” Valaena said, her voice a whisper. “Aegon had taken him to a brothel and paid the madame to lay with him.”

Rhaenyra gasped, covering her mouth. “He was only a boy-”

“Yes,” Valaena replied, her tone tinged with sadness. “He was so disgusted with himself, and he told me that he didn’t want to see me anymore. He was afraid that he’d taint me, that he was no longer worthy. But I refused to let him go”.

Rhaenyra reached out and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Oh, my sweet girl.”

“All I wanted was for him to trust me and he did”

“You must have meant a great deal to him,” said Rhaenyra.

“I’d like to think so”

“When did things change between the two of you?” asked Rhaenyra.

“It started off with little things at first, like holding hands as we sat together or he would put his arm around me when I read to him, we would even spar with one another from time to time-wooden swords of course but the fact that he didn’t just see me as a girl, but a worthy opponent meant the world-”

“-Carry on” urged Rhaenyra, her chin resting upon her hand as she listened.

 “One day we were sparring and he tripped me, but I was determined that I wasn’t going to go down alone, so I grabbed him and pulled him down with me, we landed in a heap in the sand, we started laughing and then he kissed me” said Valaena fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

“And the first time between the two of you?”

“We first laid together just after I turned five and ten-”

Rhaenyra’s brows lifted slightly, concern mingling with curiosity. “And you were alright?”

“Yes. He was gentle, patient and nervous, but it was something that we both wanted”

“That’s good” whispered Rhaenyra.

“Yes, Mother-he took care of me” Valaena’s expression softened with the memory. “After that we learned about each other together, but we soon realized that we needed somewhere private to be-just us, and that’s how we found our place”

“Our place?” Rhaenyra repeated with a curious soft smile.

Valaena chuckled. “There was an old cabin near Wendwater. It wasn’t in the best shape, but we spent time fixing it up, making it something liveable” She paused. “-But It became our sanctuary—a place where we could just be ourselves, without the fear of discovery.”

Rhaenyra looked at her daughter, her smile tinged with admiration and sadness. “And when did you first know that you loved him?”

Valaena’s face softened. “I think I’ve always loved him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, a half-smile on her lips. “And what does he feel for you?”

Valaena smiled mischievously. “You’d have to ask him.”

“Oh, believe me,” Rhaenyra said with a wry grin. “I will.”

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over King’s Landing as Valaena stood on the balcony of her chambers, watching the evening bustle below.

She felt a familiar presence before she heard him, the soft creak of the door, the purposeful sound of boots across the stone floor, and then a pair of strong arms wrapping around her waist.

Aemond’s lips found her neck, leaving a trail of warm, tender kisses.

“Did you enjoy spending time with your brothers and sister?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips as she leaned back against him.

Aemond nuzzled into her neck, sighing with satisfaction. “Yes. It felt good, all of us flying together. It made me realize how much I missed them.”

She laughed softly. “Even Aegon?”

Aemond gave a small, reluctant chuckle. “Yes, even him. But don’t you dare tell him.”

“I won’t,” she promised, grinning.

He tilted his head, looking at her curiously. “And what did you do today, my love?”

“I spent time with the children in the garden, had a bit of a disagreement with Daemon, and then a long talk with my mother.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “You argued with Daemon?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said, brushing it off lightly.

Aemond slid his hands over her rounded belly, resting them there as he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. “Gods, you smell divine.”

“I recently bathed,” she replied, smiling.

Gently, he turned her around to face him, cupping her face as he leaned in to kiss her, slow and tender.

Resting his forehead against hers, his gaze was intense and filled with a reverence that made her heart race.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” Aemond murmured, his voice rough. “Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha jorrāelagon.” (My wife, my love).

Valaena smiled, her fingers grazing his cheek. “Ñuha valzȳrys, ñuha zaldrīzes.” (My husband, my dragon).

With a quiet growl, he pulled her closer, his lips capturing hers with a passionate intensity. His hands travelled up her sides as he began to trail kisses along her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.

“I want you” he whispered, his voice a low murmur against her ear.

Valaena’s hands slid into his long silver hair, tangling in the strands as she pulled him close. “Pār emagon nyke” (Than have me).

Aemond guided Valaena backward toward their bed, his hands deftly slipping her nightdress from her shoulders, letting the fabric glide over her skin and pool softly around her feet.

Her gaze remained fixed on him as she sat down on the bed, watching as he unfastened his riding leathers, the dark material sliding off to reveal his lean, yet muscled frame.

Finally, he reached up, fingers lingering for a moment, and slipped off his eyepatch, leaving himself entirely bare before her.

Valaena reached forward, her hands settling on his hips, pulling him close. Her lips brushed softly against his stomach, trailing tender kisses along his skin.

She nuzzled into the faint line of hair that traced down from his navel, feeling him shiver at her touch.

Aemond’s hands gently cradled Valaena’s face, his gaze warm and intent as he guided her down onto the bed.

He settled her against the soft linens, his touch reverent as he brushed his fingers along her jawline, tracing a path down her shoulder and along her arm.

His eye never left hers, conveying a quiet depth of feeling that words couldn’t capture.

He leaned over her, supporting his weight on one arm, and lowered his face to cover her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond then moved down to lick her nipples, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he went back and forth between her wonderful, enlarged breasts that nourished their daughter.

“Oh” muttered Valaena as she flung her arms over her face, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

Aemond eagerly ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hmmm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suckle at her breasts, gorging himself on her milk, his hard cock pressed against her thigh.

His tongue swirling around her stiffened peaks, his teeth scraping against her skin, the sounds of him swallowing.

“Ohhh-A-Aemond” gasped Valaena.

“What is it my love?”.

“Don’t stop-please, oh gods-don’t stop” exclaimed Valaena as she arched her back, her cunny clenching around nothing as she unexpectedly climaxed.

“Did you just-peak?” asked Aemond smirking as he released her nipple with a soft pop.

“Yes” replied Valaena, her cheeks tinged pink.

“Well, that’s never happened before-” muttered Aemond he moved forward and kissed her passionately, his tongue invading her mouth.

“I-I don’t know what come over me-” replied Valaena softly.

“Don’t be embarrassed-I liked it” said Aemond as he began to move down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her swollen stomach and placed a series of gentle kisses upon the stretched skin, marvelling at the wonder that was his wife who had already birthed three of his children and was now expecting their fourth.

“That feels nice” whispered Valaena as she closed her eyes.

“Does this feel nice?" asked Aemond, spitting on her cunny before he ran the flat of his tongue up her soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Valaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Valaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Valaena. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, peak for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs.

Valaena arched  her back and screamed as her climax washed over her.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at her centre as she squirted all over his face.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you-” begged Valaena.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth.

Aemond moved up Valaena’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Valaena, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

Aemond then manoeuvred her body on top of his.

“I want you to ride me-” exclaimed Aemond as he lined up his cock with her entrance and sheathed himself inside her with one hard thrust.

Valaena moaned as Aemond dug his fingers into her hips and helped her move on his cock.

"Please don't stop," cried out Valaena.

"I have no intention of stopping" growled Aemond, his feet planted firmly on the bed to allow him to increase the pace of his thrusts.

Valaena braced her hands on his chest as she rolled her hips against his, oblivious to the sound of the door slowly opening.

A satisfied smile spread across Aemond’s face as he looked towards the door.

He quickly sat up, wrapping his mouth around one of Valaena’s rosy nipples. His teeth and tongue teasing the stiffened peak, before he moved to the lavishing it with the same attention.

“Gods-yes Aemond” shrieked Valaena as she moved on his cock, her hands coiled in is long silver hair.

“That’s it-take all of me” growled Aemond laying back down as he moved Valaena’s hips in time with his own thrusts.

“Oh gods-” wailed Valaena.

“-FUCK Valaena” groaned Aemond, his gaze flickering to the door.

“P-Please Aemond. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“ whimpered Valaena.

“Come for me-” growled Aemond as he felt her clenching around him.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena as she exploded, her nails digging into his chest.

With a final hard thrust, Aemond’s eye rolled into the back of his head as he exploded spilling rope after rope of his seed.

But then-

“S-Sister?”

Valaena’s head whipped to the side, her heart plummeting as she caught sight of Jacaerys and Luke frozen in the doorway, mouths agape and their faces reddening.

Horror gripped her, and a loud, panicked shriek escaped her as she fumbled to cover herself, her hands flying to shield her exposed skin.

She stayed seated upon Aemond, who, unfazed, simply leaned back against the headboard, his expression calm, one arm folded behind his head.

“Nephews,” Aemond drawled, a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth.

TBC

[atopvisenyashill]

Okay first of all, the template for your asks is hilarious. Also I wanna submit my theory that Aenys is or might be a bastard.

1. We know Rhaenys surrounded herself of comely young men. Which, granted, pretty people isn’t a crime. But the fact that ALL those bards, mummers, pipettes were all noted to be handsome is very wild. Ugly people are talented too. If a man had an entourage of beautiful ladies around him, you’d ask questions.

2. Rhaenys is described as more of a free spirit. She is linked to infidelity and such multiple time.

A)She is the one who make the law of 6 which allow a women to not beat to death for adultery. Granted there’s a mention of that gods made woman and man to be faithful to one and mother but this was likely public image decree/council words because Rhaenys was the second wife and in a polygamous marriage. + we know the Targaryens during conquest aren’t real Sept (GRRM said Aegon converted for politics)

B) Rhaenys’s Hill overlook the Street of Silk, silk of pleasures.

C) Visenya & her are supposed to be polar opposite. Visenya was undoubtedly faithful to Aegon, if her and Rhaenys contrast In all aspects, Rhaenys could be unfaithful.

3) Aenys is said to be an excellent singer and patrons of the art. Now granted Rhaenys liked signing BUT there’s no mention that she was a good singer.

4) Aenys has little to no similarity to Aegon. All similarities can be pointed to the fact that Aegon is his uncle than father. A) “As tall as Aegon” Aegon is his uncle, genetics. B) “Bonded with a dragon” his mother was a dragon rider.

And Aenys’s flaws don’t match his dad or his mom. He was eager to please, undecided.

Aegon never cared to please people, he only cared about consolidating his realm but never once he was so eager to please to not brush people’s feelings (proposed his bastard half brother to Argilac as a suitor) nor was he hesitant (his conquests) or soft (“when the sun sets, your line shall end” burned a whole family alive).

Rhaenys met with Meria Martell and dead ass told her “we will be back with fire and blood”, burned the people of planky town, and burned a whole army when on campaign with Orys. She kept her handsome favourites despite the rumours, she continued to be patrons of the arts depaite Visenya arguing that it was a waste. She stood firm in what she cared for and was not avoiding bloodshed.

5) Aenys stubbornness to marry his children. Now we know that Aegon I (who brought Aenys alongside him to teach him all about politics) was careful to not upset the faith. [visiting the Sept everytime he went to Oldtown, going to service even though he wasn’t pious, having the septon endorse him, removing taxation for its members]

Not because he cared about their feelings but because they were a huge part of recently formed Westeros and it was wise to keep them close. YET Aenys went to bat for the match between Rhaena & Aegon. He didn’t even try to burn the septon or whatever, but he still was adamant.

Why? I think it’s because Aenys knew he wasn’t Aegon’s true born son and was weary that by marrying his children to other houses, that the dragon blood would dilute and heck even the truth exploding.

Rhaenys was 1/4 Velaryon (through Valaena Velaryon) and 3/4 Targaryen. In percentage it’s (25% Velaryon, 75% Targaryen)

Her conceiving with a random would mean that the child would be (1/2 father’s heritage, 3/8th Targaryen, 1/8th Velaryon).

Meaning that Aenys is 1/2 Andal (?), 3/8th Targaryen and 1/8th Velaryon which in percentage is 50% Andal, 37,5% Targaryen, 12.,5% Velaryon.

Aenys & Alyssa who’s 1/2 Velaryon 1/2 Massey had children. Their children would be (5/8th Velaryon, 1/4 Andal, and 1/8th Targaryen) in percentage this would mean:

Aenys & Alyssa’s issue: 62.5% Velaryon, 25% Andal, 12.5% Targaryen.

If Rhaena had married a non Targaryen, the Targaryen blood would have diluted, heck even the Velaryon blood would be a minority.

Targaryens are very careful and proud of their blood, not Valyrian blood, Targaryen blood and the key to dragons of House Targaryen.

Facing the threat of Targaryen lineage almost erased, the potential truth about his own lineage revealed, it’s no wonder why Aenys pushed for the incest marriage to go through instead of trying to match Rhaena & Aegon to Celtigars, Velaryons or Baratheons.

It also explained why Visenya and Maegor finally broke. Not only is he incompetent, but he doesn’t take necessary actions to preserve the kingdom and the line (crushing the faith opposition which was not only dangerous for stability but opposed the way to maintain Targaryen blood).

Also if you look at F&B illustration: Aegon & Maegor, i can believe it’s father and sons, I see Aenys, I see Aegon, besides being tall they don’t look alike.

Yeah I basically completely subscribe to the theory that Aenys was the result of Rhaenys' affair with a singer and not biologically Aegon's. I think it's very likely that either

Aegon was shooting blanks (this happens more than once in this family)

Aegon wasn't attracted to women

Now whether that means he was gay or simply didn't feel sexual attraction/felt significantly less sexual attraction than the average person is anyone's guess. I'm not sure which one i think george is leaning towards - Laenor, Renly, and Loras, all for example, are pretty explicitly gay and known for their male favorites. Stannis and Aerys I, on the other hand, are in a similar murky territory where we know they don't really (or ever) have sex with their wives but there's not a lot of confirmation as to whether they were asexual (I don't know that George would use that word but I do think he's aware of the concept, it's not like it's new) or whether they were attracted to men. I don't know if it's a reveal he's waiting on for later or if it's him just trying to fill thrld out by throwing in these fun lil mysteries.

HOWEVER. You've laid all this out really well and the fact that there's all this evidence (however circumstantial) and F&B brings our attention to these rumors very pointedly makes me believe George might be cooking something here. Especially since that Not A Blog post about how dragons and dragon bonding is going to take some focus in the books, I do think all this fascination with just how "targaryen" the conquerors and their descendants really are is going to be relevant at some point, even if it's just on an emotional level.

[yunaff05]

vultures. (prologue)

fanfic: a retelling of house targaryen and the dance of the dragons.

ever since princess rhaenyra targaryen, was named heir, the realm has never truly rested in peace. lords and ladies that surround the courts always going out of their way to poke the dragon that is house targaryen.

when rhaenyra targaryen and laenor velaryon married, it was meant to strengthen the two remaining houses of old valyria, too strengthen the realm, too show that "house targaryen's best years are ahead, not behind!" - the king viserys' own words.

the marriage had seemed successful when rhaenyra gave birth to her first born child. valaena velaryon. according to maesters' records, the princess' birth was premature. yet she came out perfect. born without any deformities but rather silver hair, lilac eyes, a healthy heartbeat and a beautiful face blessed by the seven.

the ideal valyrian princess.

though, being the first born child of the future heir of the iron throne comes with the heavy weight of the crown and duty placed upon their head. a crown they have to bear before they are even able to open their eyes to understand the world they'll one day have to rule.

sooner than later, the princess rhaenyra gave birth to another child. a son, jacaerys velaryon. healthy, but this child was born with brown hair and eyes. conflict and rumours spreading like wildfire about such a coincidence.

the king himself responding by saying it was "due to the baratheon blood" that is in the family from their grandmother, princess rhaenys. daughter of aemon targaryen and jocelyn baratheon.

then another brown haired babe was born, another son. and brother for valaena and jacaerys. the prince being named lucerys. his birth should've been congratulated by the lords and ladies of the realm, but instead only fueled the rumors that started to fester like weeds around the red keep.

accusations of such saying princess rhaenyra was mothering bastards that were not laenor's own sons. illegitimate and mongrels.

rumours only silencing when king viserys threatened that if he found who'd be spreading or repeating such treasons shall get hung on the walls of the keep.

valaena could often be found at the foot of the lone weir wood tree of kings landing. if people were searching for her, they'd know to search this place first.

she found peace and solace under the red leaves that fell onto the green grass below, littering the green to be covered red.

resting her head against the white trunk, she closes her eyes and tilts her head up. thinking about the events that happened earlier that begin to flash through her mind unwantedly.

this evening was poor. having been forced by her mother to go to the dragon pit and join her two uncles and having to bring jacaerys and lucerys along made it even more annoying of a chore.

she never why she was forced to go to the dragon pit, not having a having a dragon herself made the dragonpit empty in her perspective. aegon did, jacaerys and lucerys did too. maybe that's why aemond and valaena often confided in each other.

complaing about the teasing we received by his brothers and her own. sitting under this exact weir wood tree, wishing for one day that we could fly in the clouds.

an odd bond the two created on the mutual understanding of one another.

watching her uncle and brothers flaunt their dragons and tease aemond and valaena. no matter how many times valaena told her mother rhaenyra, the boys would still eagerly agree to be aegon's playthings just to mess with.

as her hands fist her dress of feelings of anger and injustice being brought to the surface, she is snapped out of her head as the crunchy sounds of footsteps are approaching her.

opening her lilac eyes to first see the red leaves against the blue skies to tilt her head down and look straightforward. being greeted with the familiar face of one of her mothers loyal handmaidens.

before valaena could ask what she wants, the handmaiden bows her head and eagerly speaks in a hurry.

"my princess, your mother has begun her labours."

[valyriians]

I’m not sure if this is how you put requests in, so I’m sorry if this is wrong lol. But i was wondering would u mind writing a Visenya Targaryen x fem reader? Cause I see in most fics it’s a lot of stuff on Aegon and Rhaenys and I feel like our girl Visenya needs some love. I don’t really have a story in mind I’d just love to see her protective and possessive over us while also maintaining a friendship with Aegon and Rhaenys, if makes sense. Like we all get along, but we’re her girl and she’s gonna make it known lol. I hope it makes sense and I hope ur doing well author 🫶

Beauty and the Dragon.

Visenya Targaryen x fem!reader, arryn!reader.

summary: reader is basically sharra arryn but spicier.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: reader is a mom, non canon aegon i, smut, mention of reader being a prize.

You were known as the Flower of the Mountain, Y/n Arryn. You ruled in your son's name as Queen Regent in the Vale and the Mountains

When you received the news of the dragons from the south you had a worried look on your face, the Eyrie was defensible from the ground but in the sky, it was vulnerable. 

You were scared, who would not be? A dragon could bring death and destruction to everything that the sky looms over. You ordered every one of your bannermen and advisors to raise defences and be prepared to defend the Vale. 

You were with your advisors when the whole castle was shaken by a monstrous roar that could be heard from miles away. 

‘’Where is my son?’’ you asked.

‘’WHERE IS HE?!’’ you shouted while running out of the room watching the people get up on their feet after the incident.

When you arrived at the throne room you saw your young son in the lap of a golden-silver-haired woman who was adorned in silver chain mail with a beautiful valyrian steel sword by her side.

She looked breathtaking, ethereal and elegant but also fierce and confident. You looked up at her with a glistening gleam in your eye.

The woman shifted her gaze from the young king to you and the two of you held eye contact which felt like a lifetime, her eyes were those of a beautiful purple which complimented her stern features.

‘’Who are you, release my son at once!’’ you exclaimed.

‘’Forgive me for the entrance I made but surely you must know that I needed to make an impression.’’ The woman said while looking playing with the young boy king.

‘’My name is Visenya Targaryen, eldest child of Lord Aerion Targaryen and Lady Valaena Velaryon of Dragonstone, sister to Ageon the Dragon.’’

‘’Let go of my sons’’ you said.

‘’I have no means to harm your son, come walk with me.’’ Visenya gestured for them to walk into the courtyard.

You walked with them outside where Visenya was holding the young king and babbling some stuff to him.

‘’If you don’t mean to harm us, why are you here?’’ you asked while looking closely at your son.

‘’Well, I will have to inflict some harm if you do not surrender the Vale and Mountains to me and my brother.’’ Visenya said while looking at you. 

‘’As I see it, you are only a force of, one man and with a simple nod of my head I could have my archers let a hundred arrows fly.’’ you said.

‘’Could you now?’’ Visenya said and then the ground rumbled that was followed by a roar and from the sky descended a formidable green dragon that landed by Visenyas side.

The dragon was beautiful.

Some of the archers fled while others laid down their bows and shook in terror.

‘’Mama look at the dagon’’ the young boy king said to his mother, clearly not afraid of the large beast that was beside him.

‘’DRA-gon, little one.’’ Visenya said as she put him down on the ground.

You saw your son's face lit up and crouched down to hug your son. You looked at your son, then the dragon and lastly at Visenya who stroked the dragon's snout. 

‘’I willingly surrender my son's crown, the Vale and the Mountains and all its treasures to you, on the condition that you will let my son live.’’

Visenya looked at you with a sympathetic look.

‘’Of course, your son will live, as will you.’’ Visenya said.

‘’I thank you’’ you bowed to her.

‘’I will be staying here, my brother and sister will be coming soon and we will make our journey North, perhaps you might indulge me with stories of the North, or the Vale and its so-called… treasures.’’ she winked at you, clearly into you but not making it to obvious.

‘’We shall have a feast prepared in your honour’’ you said while she mounted Vhagar with your son because she promised him a flight on Vhagar.

—

Two huge dragons arrived, one black as night and the other silver as the moon, they landed outside the Bloody Gate and arrived at the Eyrie where you were waiting with Visenya.

You saw how majestic the man and his sister, the younger one, were a great beauty. They truly were destined for something great and were going to achieve it.

‘’Brother’’ Visenya said.

‘’Dear sister.’’ he replied.

‘’Lady Arryn.’’ he shifted his gaze toward you and took your hand and kissed it. ‘’The poets did not lie, you are indeed very beautiful.’’

‘’Welcome to the Vale, my Lord, you flatter me’’ you replied, with a certain scared voice.

Rhaenys greeted you and she was very excited about the Eyrie. 

—

The feast began and it was a big one, music was played and people danced to greet their new lord. It was also ideal for the bannermen to meet their new lord.

Rhaenys was chatting with some lords and ladies about her dragon and tales of Dragonstone. 

‘’So, Lady Arryn, how long have you ruled here?’’ Aegon asks.

‘’Well for about seven years, my son ascended the throne when my husband died.’’ you reply.

‘’You have not re-married? I’m sure a score of men would love to have you beside them.’’ He chuckles but Visenya shut him down quickly.

‘’She has no need for a man, from what I have seen Lady Y/n has done an admirable job ruling the Vale.’’ You give Visenya a smile.

—

When the night came closing in, you retired to your chambers after visiting your son and you ran into Visenya, she had just returned from a flight.

Her hair when it was all worn out from the flight made her look amazing, the sweat from her ride, the way she pulled off her gloves and adjusted her clothes. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel something.

‘’I was wondering if you might educate me on the King in the North, Stark is he not?’’ she says to you while panting.

‘’It’s getting late, Lady Visenya.’’ you said but she caressed your face and pulled you in for a kiss.

Her lips tasted like lavender and cherries, she grabbed you by the neck and pulled you in closer.

You were feeling confused but were also so drawn to her, you wanted her, and you needed her badly so you also grabbed her.

You led her to your chambers where you undressed each other while kissing in between. 

She pushed you onto the bed and began leaving wet kisses on your stomach while you were naked and vulnerable beneath her. Her hands were constantly on your body.

She moved down to your core and put your legs over her shoulders, she started licking your folds while moving up her pace as you panted and moaned with the sound of pleasure.

Her hot breath on your naked body sent chills down your spine and you felt like you could see stars. 

The two of you went like this for hours and then you hear a knock on the door, terrified but curious who it might be, it could be your son or just a servant informing you about something.

You started collecting yourselves until Visenya caught your wrist.

‘’Lay here darling, I’ll handle this.’’ she said with dominance in her voice.

‘’No wait-’’ you protested.

‘’Quiet’’

Visenya walked to the door, half naked with only her long hair covering her chest with not a single care in the world. She opened the door and greeted her brother.

‘’Well well, what are you doing here?’’ she asked.

‘’I would ask you the same thing.’’ Aegon replies.

‘’Enjoying the spoils of war, I do enjoy my prize quite well and I do not plan on sharing them.’’ She said, clearly having the upper hand.

‘’I only came to bid the Lady goodnight, I shall see you on the morrow, sister.’’ He replied.

‘’I might be late, for I have much to do this night.’’ She replied.

—

The morning arrived and you woke up next to Visenya staring at you, admiring the numerous love spots she painted on your body. She caressed your hair and admired your naked figure in the messy sheets.

‘’I don’t want you to leave.’’ you say.

‘’I will be back before you know it darling.’’ she says while getting dressed.

You help her with her chainmail and fix up her hair nicely. Always giving her a few kisses in between.

—

When the three siblings were about to depart for the harsh North you were there to bid them farewell and good fortune.

You first spoke with Aegon as he walked up to you while putting on his gloves.

‘’We thank you for your hospitality Lady Arryn, it was an honour meeting one so beautiful as yourself.’’ he tells you.

‘’The honour is mine my King.’’ you bow to him and for the first time address him as King.

Rhaenys then hugged you goodbye and smiled at you and your son.

‘’My Queen.’’ you bowed to her.

‘’My Queen.’’ again to Visenya who looked at you with lustful eyes. 

‘’From this day, the Arryns will hold the position as Wardens of the East and Defenders of the Vale. Starting with the first Warden of the East who is Lady Y/n Arryn.’’ Visenya proclaimed to the audience who came to bid them farewell. She gained loud applause from the crowd.

Aegon walked over to Visenya and grabbed her arm.

‘’What do you think you’re doing?!’’ he asked his sister.

‘’Relax dear brother.’’ she said while shuffling from her brother's grip.

‘’After all, you said that it is an honour to meet one so beautiful, and I would hate to see her talents of ruling go to waste.’’ She said while holding your cheek.

‘’So beautiful indeed.’’ She whispered and then kissed you with passion in front of Aegon and Rhaenys, Aegon looked at her with jealousy while Rhaenys smiled.

‘’I shall be back.’’ she said to you.

‘’I will await for you, my Queen.’’ you said while holding her hand.

—

The dragon Vhagar flew numerous times to the Eyrie after King Aegon Targaryen the first of his name was crowned and it is said that Lady Arryn and Queen Visenya spent more nights than King Aegon did with Rhaenys.

[angrygirlromero]

Can u write more about Maegor Targaryen???

Reader is his second wife, he married her because is ceryse and reader fell pregnant after the wedding. Proving that Ceryse was barren not Maegor so Aenys accept the marriage. Reader and Maegor love each other and Visenya see her as a daughter, Aenys queen don’t like reader. Reader don’t care, the only queen she care about is Visenya.

THE BEST OPTION

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi! I'm so happy to see so many requests honestly, I didn't expect much but I have a lot of writing to do this week, and I don't have my phone so I'm writing from my laptop, but anyways I hope everyone's doing well!

WARNINGS: incest, possible grammar mistakes!

Maegor Targaryen had always been in love with Valaena Velaryon his mother's ward, a true beauty, in Maegor's words everything a woman should be, kind, calm, soft, beautiful, and elegant, he had watched her grow up, always being there for her whenever she needed him.

After many miserable years of being forced to marry Ceryse, Visenya had began to specutale that she wasn't capable of having children, and willing to test her theory as her ward Valaena had grown older more suitors came willing to ask for the had of the queen's ward, and the present queen's sister.

Visenya had turned them all down not yet ready to let of her ward, who she had grown to love as her own, a beauty of Valyria who reminded her of her mother in every aspect. After telling her suspicions to Maegor he had been more than happy to take her on dragons back to Kings Landing to plead his case out of respect for his brother.

Seated before Aenys with his mother at his right and future wife to his left he pleaded his case with his brother who took his time to overthink if it was the right thing to do, his wife being the biggest burden in their situation, jealous of her sister's capability to earn the favor of the once queen Visenya Targaryen and her son.

When Aenys finally agreed believing it would be a fair match and would strengthen the line, Maegor took her back to Dragonstone and married her in the traditions of his house, devoting himself to her and only her for the rest of his life, Ceryse being left forever forgotten.

After several days and nights of fucking and making love to one another, the lady Valaena had been pronounced with child to no one's surprise, making the queen Alysa infuriating and overflowing with jealousy for her husband's praises towards her little sister, and Valaena could truly care less about her sister's jealousy being far too happy with her husband and newborn son who she adored.

Many moons later little Maelor Targaryen was born being the first of many children of his parents to come, a beautiful boy the perfect prince, with silver bright hair and one eye lilac from his father and his other sea blue from his mother, his being his father's heir and successor, soon being known in history as the third Targaryen King to rule Westeros alongside his sister wife.

[allkordelia]

Ten Years Later

My hand rested on the balustrade as I look out at the sunrise coming up from behind the Bay of Pentos, everyone else was still asleep including daemon that I know of he left in the middle of the night to sleep in laena's chamber. I like coming out here, the air is nice not too hot not too cold, I can smell the ocean mix with the smell of flowers that laena and the girls planted around the castle.

The first thing they wanted to do to make this place feel like home, my girls.

I was pull back from my mind and look over to the door of the roof, a servant boy came walking out with a scroll in his hand. I got my cane that rest next to me and use it to limp over to him.

"Morrow, princess." The boy said handing me the scroll.

"Morrow." I said back opening the message and seeing it was from king's landing, "Is anyone awake?" I look up from the message and at the servant making him nod.

"Yes, lady laena and prince daemon are along with the rest of your children, they are waiting for you in the dining hall for breakfast." I nod giving the message back to the young boy to dispose off, and follow behind as back inside.

I still can not believe it been ten years since I married daemon and birth my son, aemon, and during the course of our lives many things have changed. I was no longer queen rhaelle now, but a princess and the king's mother now that Aeron and Valaena sits on the throne that I had for fourteen years. After the war in the serpent islands, I was left cripple and distraughted, so much so that I had to step down as queen and come live with laena and daemon in the palace I brought them after the attempted threat on their and our children's lives.

Now, I have more scars on my body than daemon, my body isn't what it use to and my dark hair is now graying white like my bangs. I look more  valyrian now than i did in my youth. But, daemon to my chagrin still thinks I'm beautiful which is flattering of course but I hate when he says it when it involces comparing my sister, even worse when she's around, as if trying to make her feel bad by lifting me up. I had snided him more times than I do my youngest child about things, but daemon being daemon does not see the problem of comparing one wife to another. He's an idiot. My loving idiot husband but idiot nonetheless.

"Good morrow, my beauties." I limp out into the dinning hall where all my children were sat still in their nightie.

My children all turn away from one another to look at me, the food was no where to be found which mean I made it in time.

"Morrow, muña." They all said in unison, daemon looks up from our baby girl along with laena turning in her chair to look me as I come up to her.

"Morrow, sister." Laena said with a tired smile, I kiss her cheek before leaning down to pat her swelling belly.

"Morrow, little sister. How did you sleep." I ask pulling back from her and making my way towards daemon.

"Horrible. The babe wouldn't stop kicking me, only stopping when he sense his father near." I gave an eye roll at her words, I took my sweet baby girl from daemon holding her in one arm before planting multiple kisses around her chubby cheeks causing her to fuss and me laugh.

"Are you still think it's a boy, are you trying to jinx us with another him." I told my sister motioning to our husband before taking a seat after I kiss daemon on the lips, I had my baby girl in my lap and my other hand rest my cane between me and daemon as I took a seat next him at the head of the table.

"Another boy would be grand," Daemon smirk taking my hand that rest on the table, he threaded his fingers into mines and lift up to kiss my palm, I look at him with a look before rolling my eyes again.

"There are too many boys in this family, corwyn has three boys and no girls, valaena and aeron have five boys and adrielle. We have four boys and six girls, we are being out number here ladies." I said looking at my daughters and sister making them giggle.

"I agree with mother..." Alys, daemon and I fifthborn child, and a mini me, says, "...I say we send one of the boys off to the Wall to even the number, I vote Baelon." She beams looking back at me, she is also a bit like daemon too, like most of his children.

"Why do I have to go, why can't we just send you away instead. Preferable a pillow house seems very fitting for you, little sister." Baelon says with a grin, daemon and I glare at our fourthborn child.

"Baelon." We chided.

"What's a pillow house, mama." A small soft voice ask from beside me, I look at my youngest daughter, "...i want to go, is it a place filled with pillows where you can sleep all day." She smile at me as i  try not to grimace, I look over at daemon who was scowling baelon making me turn back to her.

"It's...it's not for children, my love." Gaela frown.

"Then, who is it for?" I grind my teeth trying to figure out a lie but before I can speak baelon spoke up.

"All you need to know. Is that it's every woman's nightmare and every man's wet dream." He snicker making his older brother, Maekar, chuckle beside him before stopping when he saw me glare at him.

"Baelon. One more comment and your going back to your chamber with an empty stomach." Daemon chided at his son making baelon groel low and sit back with his arms cross, I shook my head at baelon, he acts just like his father.

I look back at Gaela, "Ignore your brother, it's a place you or any of your siblings should never visit. Ever." I empathize the last words looking around the table at other children pointly, "...you understand, my love." I look back at daena who had a look before she nod.

"I understand, mama." I smile pressing a soft kiss onto her dreaded white hair before pulling back as the servants came in with our food.

Between daemon and I, we have six children. The eldest, Aemon, my dark hair beauty who like his namesake is a good and sweet son who looks after all his siblings like Aeron did with his twin brother and sister, then, there is the second eldest, Maekar, his quiet and standoffish but very observatant and smart like daemon's father he spends all his time with Aemon, they are one year apart and they do everything together.

"So, what are all your plans for today?" I ask glancing around the table at my children and spouses, I smile as they all talk over each other about what they got planned.

The next eldest is our first daughter, Alyssa, she is a mixture of daemon's mother and her younger sister, Saera, the young girl bask in the attention that her father and I give her. As well as, a very bright girl but she likes to hide that fact about herself for some reason, and was nickname the "The Flower of Pentos" due to her adorable features. From a young age, she enjoy the finer things in life, and when she realize that power comes from titles, she beg me to marry her off to her eldest nephew, Aegor, so she could become queen and live out her days in luxury. I do not know where she got to be such a connoisseur from but I like to blame it on daemon, and his constant need to please his daughters.

"Papa. Papa, I need a new brush for my hair since someone broke mine..." Alyssa turn her eyes to her younger brother, baelon, who gave a sly smile.

"I didn't break anything, it was Alys who threw it and miss." He smirks.

After Alyssa, I had Baelon, he was the fourthborn and the first most spirited child out of the bunch, who like his father likes to wreck hovac all the time. He was exactly how I expect daemon was as a child, always going out doing his own thing while annoying his brothers and sisters in the process. But, there is one thing we can all agree on about Baelon, one of his most redeemable traits about my son is that he always have his family's back.

"Only because you wouldn't leave me alone." She snap back looking at him from across the table, Alyssa roll her eyes.

"I don't care who did it. All i know is that if i don't have a new one by tonight, I'm coming into your rooms when your asleep and cutting off all your hair." She snided making both purse their lips, knowing her threat is always to be taken likely.

"Do not fret, my little princess. Baelon will go into town and get you a new one..." Daemon turn his sharpe gaze to his son and grits, "....right, baelon." The young boy at his father with a look.

"But–I...I didn't break it–"

"You started it and now you will pay for it...literally." Baelon mouth fall open before closing with a annoy look.

"Well, I will need some coins–"

"You can use your own to buy it," Daemon shut down baelon without mercy and went back to eating, baelon huff and look at Alyssa and Alys who were both smiling.

"Ha-ha." Alys says low before sticking her tongue at him making him do the same.

She was the second most spirited child, my Alyaena, or Alys,  she is what daemon like to call  dark sister in the flesh, because of her similar traits to visenya targaryen. She was just like her big brother, baelon, but scarier and more passionate. She hated when baelon pick on their younger siblings and her about not having a dragon, the many times I had to pull her off him after every argument was too many to count or to remember. She reminded me of myself at her age as well as daemon, I always told daemon that we were a deadly mixture and Alys and Baelon was proof of that. She was also very smart like the rest of her siblings and she idolize me, which was a surpise since most of her brothers and sister look up to daemon because of his nickname and his achievement. Alys love her father but she wanted to learn from the best, her words not mine, so she taken to following me around and I taken to teaching everything I know to her.

"Thank you, papa. I also need a new gown." Daemon look over at his daughter with eyes full of adoration.

"Of course, my little milkweed. Aeron and Maekar will accompany you and your brother to the market to have you pick one out." Alyssa smile again at her father, both eldest sons gave each other looks before going back to eating, you could see they weren't happy to be spending their morning with their sister.

Alyssa look to baelon next to her, "And make sure that the brush is nice and pretty, I want one exactly like the one you broken if not nicer." She said making baelon make a face.

"I'll make sure I buy you the ugliest looking one there."

"And I'll make sure I hit you with it until your look as ugly as it is." She threaten before turning back to her breakfast, baelon look at me as I gave him a assuring look.

Our next child is Gaemon, he is a two year younger than Alys, and many things can be said about Gaemon, but two things you'll never forget are that he's earnest and intuitive. Of course he's also sweet, empathetic and humorous, but his far less prominent, especially compared to impulses of being opportunistic as well. He reminds me a little of corwyn when he was a child, and as well as, valaena due to his love for drawing and art.  He is more close to Gaela and Alys since he isn't the fighting type and he spends his time with his sisters and aunt.

"Why don't I buy it, my darling. I know  your taste and I can go to Mys and bring you back a brush and a gown." Alyssa's eyes lighten up at the mention of Mys, she knows we get her best gowns and jewelry from there or Magonsæte.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, mama." She squeal excited making me smile.

Gaela, she's the one next to me, she was consider the baby of the family and she was a month younger than Gaemon, she is different than the rest of her siblings, she, like her older brother Maekar, is a quiet little thing that spends half of her  time in the garden with laena or with me and daemon. She is a bit shy and when she feels overwhelmed she shut herself off from everyone else and spend her time alone in her chamber with her toys and instruments.

"Are you sure, my love. The boys can easily do it." Daemon says making me shake my head.

"No, it's okay.  I have to leave to King's Landing anyway and I'll get it on my way back." I move to look away from him and down at the baby in my lap, she start to fuss making me bounce my knee gently to get her to calm down.

Our youngest baby and hopefully our last child is Daena, she was just one years old and a very cranky baby, she hasn't learn how to talk yet but she already knows who is and is not her favorite. Since daemon be with her most of the day, she is mostly surrounded by boys and Alys in the training ground.

"Why are you leaving to King's Landing? Has something happened. " Laena ask with a small frown and furrow brows, I look at her with reassuring smile.

"It's nothing bad just need to have a talk with our brother again," laena sigh and move to rub her belly.

"What did he do now." She says with a ping of annoyance.

It wasn't until three years into daemon and I marriage when we welcome my sister into the fold, she left home when she turn ten and eight after father tried to marry her off to some lord or prince from essos. Daemon was visiting with aeron and maekar when laena told him of her unbearable betrothal, so daemon took it upon himself to kill her betrothal in a challenge and take her to Magonsæte to live with us, I at first was worried that corlys would sail all the way there to bring her back but after laena told me she never wanted to see father again and wanted to stay. I had no choice but to abide by her choice, I understood how she felt and I didn't want her to feel like she had to do whatever corlys said because he was our father.

"It's nothing." I lie trying to reassure her even through I know she knows that I am lying.

So, while she stayed in Magonsæte, she and corwyn begin to formally start courting no longer keeping it a secret. But, something happen that cause her to leave corwyn and him to marry someone's else, not too long after that daemon and her ran off together and married without my knowing or blessing. Daemon said he did it because he cared about her and knew that I was always worrying about her finding a good husband that would treat her right, so he ran off to dragonstone and married her making her his third wife.

When they came and daemon told me of what he done, of course at first I was angry at him and may have threw some punches his way but after a while I got over it. I kinda had to since two years later, laena was pregnant with my first neices and daemon's daughters, baela and rhaena, they were three months younger than Alys and a year old than gaemon and gaela. Baela and Rhaena were exactly like Daemon and Laena in their own way, baela had daemon's heart for adventure like her brothers and rhaena had laena's compassion like her sisters. We were one big happy family that I always wanted like jaehaerys and alysanne.

"He haven't been doing his duties, havent he." She accuse making me give her a look.

"You and I know that laenor do the best that he can–"

"All he have to do is pretend..." Laena stop herself as she glance at the children before looking back at me, "...pretend to like it there, he is a grown man he is no longer a child. He has responsibilities like you and me, and yet he spends his time with other things more important than...his children." She said angry, It was no secret between us, when rhaenyra gave birth to her first son it was obvious that he wasn't a velaryon, just like the next one wasn't. 

But, laenor claims him and if he calls him his son than he is his son. Laenor loves those boys, if he do we do too. The problem that laena have is that I have to be the one to go to King's Landing for support, the boys have dark brown hair and to anyone that's odd and people start asking questions, and when the first boy was born I along with my family was told months later and by than people were questioning the child's father. But, once I came and held the child in my arms in front of an audience, all of those questions of if laenor was the father went away, I guess my white and black hair made them guess it was the baratheon blood that made him look like that way.

"But, you know how laenor is, sister." I say moving to wipe my mouth, the wetnurse came in like she usually do and took daena from my lap to go feed her, as I did a little wave at my baby, laena spoke up.

"I know but it doesn't mean you have to always drop everything just to put some sense into him, he has a wife for that." I giggle as I turn to look at her, I know laena means well and I know she's right but I also know if I don't go than laenor is going to miss the birth of his child yet again, "He been doing this for ten years, he fly off to whatever island he finds with marrio and you have to leave for weeks to find him and take him back home. As much as I love our brother, I am growing tired of his behavior. "

"Laena–"

"No more, rhaelle. You have a family of your own, a family that needs you here." she said making me give her a small frown before glancing around the table some of the children were listening while the rest were focusing on eating, I look at daemon as he wore the same look as laena.

"You know she is right, my love." I sigh and nod my head before looking back at laena.

" I will talk to laenor–"

"Promise." Laena says firmly making me clear my throat.

"I promise I will talk to laenor, I know I can't always be running off to find him and abandoning my family in the process." Laena gave me a firm nod contented with my words, "Now, that we got that sorted, you need to promise me no more worrying. You should be focus on your baby girl," Laena shook her head with a small smile.

"I'll try." She said scooting her chair back  and getting up, she came to walk up to me and daemon look at us, "Are you pack for our trip tomorrow, sister. I know how you like doing things last minute like our husband." I chuckle looking over at daemon as he roll his eyes.

"I'm only halfway finish," I comment.

"As am I." Daemon spoke up.

"Good." Laena said in a happier tone, "I am so excited to be going home, it been too long." I lift my cup to my lips and share a look with daemon.

It's been five years since we move to Pentos and even through it is our home in every sense of the word, laena has been feeling a bit homesick these pass few days while pass few months. She miss our mother and dare I say corlys as well, when we found out she was pregnant again, she made me promise once the child was born we will move back to Diftmark. I was reluctant at first having to live out my days under the same roof as corlys, but apparently from what laena told me from mother is that corlys had built another castle that was bigger than Diftmark castle.

She told me how mother and corly will be moving into that castle with the rest of our family, and allowing us to have diftmark castle for our own. I was surpise that corlys would allow that and ask my mother, she said corlys was very serious on letting us live there, so I agreed to my sister's wishes. But, Daemon on the otherhand didn't want to leave Pentos, he wasn't ready to return to westeros, more so he didn't want to be near his brother, apparently being separated by the sea wasn't enough. But, of course me being me, made him reconsider out of respect for his pregnant wife and friend, daemon wasn't happy neither was I but it was time to go home.

Anyway, it was high time the children visit the place laena and I grew up and finally meet some of their distant cousins. Which reminds me...

"Yes, yes, so exciting." The back of laena's hand hit my arm at my fake enthusiasm,  "I leave in 10 and I will be back in the late evening, do anyone wish to accompany me." I ask looking around the table.

"I'll go." Aemon says.

"Pass." Maekar says next to his brother before turning to look at him, "...say hi to aemond for me." Aemon nod before he and maekar push back their chairs.

"I'll go with you as well, mama." Alys says making me smile at her as she move to leave the table with Baela and Rhaena.

"Baela. Rhaena." I ask but they shook their heads, they never want to go to King's Landing, I don't blame them the place is cursed.

"Rhaena and I are going to stay." Baela said as Rhaena walk off with her older sister, I nod before looking at Alyssa and Baelon.

"I'll pass too, but due remember my hair brush and gown. I want it to be pink with gemstone." Alyssa says sweetly before getting up, "...see you when you get back, mama." She says over her shoulder as she walk away from the table with Maekar and Aemon.

"I'm going to pass on that as well. I'll be with Vaeraxes." Baelon says as he gets up from his chair with a apple in his hand.

"I'll join you." Baela said following her brother.

"Make sure you take Maekar with you," I said making him hold up a thumb in response as they walk away with their back to me.

"Gaela. Gaemon. How about you, you want to go visit your cousins." I ask turning to the two small children to my right, gaemon waited for gaela to speak before he could decide.

"...I'm going to stay with mama laena, she needs me right now." The small girl says low next to me before moving, gaemon agreed with his younger sister and move to follow her.

"Alright, my loves. Make sure you don't cause your mama too much trouble while I'm gone." They nod as I watch them leave to get ready for the day before looking back at laena and daemon, laena was leaning against daemon's chair as he rubs her belly as he talk to it, "Like I said before I will try to make it back in the late evening," laena turn to me.

"Okay, I will have the servants finish packing the rest of your stuff." I nod getting up, laena hand me my cane making me thank her.

"Try not too move around so much, Laena. You should stay in your room and rest." Laena smile at me before she could say anything daemon spoke up.

"But, Reggio Haratis is coming for dinner, remember laena." Laena suck her teeth making me raise my brow at them, I know who he is but I thought laena told daemon to cancel it.

"And why is he still coming here?" Laena turn towards our husband, daemon shrug his shoulders.

"To talk about the Triarchy." I look between the two, laena look at daemon annoyed as he sits there looking at her with a blank look.

"Laena. Why don't you go look after Gaemon and Gaela..." she looks at me unsure as i move her away from daemon presence, "...please, let me talk to him." Laena huff before nodding.

"Why must he be so–"

"You know how he is, doesn't mean he does it to annoy you." I said to her, she nod before she reach for my hand and squeeze it.

Laena look over at daemon one last time before turning away to go find the children, I turn sharply to my husband as he stood by the table.

"You were suppose to cancel the meeting weeks ago," I said as I limp back over to him, daemon hum with no care as he move his hands to my waist.

"It slip my mind," he stare at me with a faint smile, "...I missed you last night." I hum in response as his hand squeeze my waist.

"Maybe before you leave we can have a little time alone together," His face inch closer to mind before his lips can meet my lips, I turn my face so he can kiss my cheek.

"Stop trying to get out of leaving pentos, and start listening to your wives." Daemon pull back with a annoy look, "We'll leaving daemon. You have to get pass it, I'm not trying to be heartless but what you are doing is childish." He scowl me.

"Childish. I'm the only one thinking about our children and what they want and they want to stay here, why must we leave." He grumble back to me.

"Because laena miss home and our children miss their family, you are the only person in this castle who wishes to stay and bury his face in forgotten books written by dead people." I snap, daemon look away from me with a hurt look, "Daemon. I know your not ready to face your brother but...it been six years since you last seen him, don't you think it's time." Daemon glance back at me before he let out a deep breathe and look around the room.

"We have so much memories here, just right over there gaemon took his first steps." I smile sadly at my husband, I move to caress his cheek making him back at me.

"And those memeories will forever be with us, no matter where we go, " I move my hand to his chest before leaning up to kiss his lips, "and with our new home, we will make new memories with our children." I smile making him return a small one before sighing.

"I know you are right, like always." I giggle moving to fix his collar before rubbing my hands up and down bis chest, "and I hope you know I was being serious about earlier, I had nice dream about you last night and do somethings..." he said low moving his hands to my backside pulling me closer, "...that involve me on my knees in front of you, and before the best part could happen I woke up." I hum with a coy smile.

"And you wish to finish that dream." I ask as I was being backed up into the table, daemon took my cane from my hand before setting it aside.

"...very much so." He whisper leanjng down and capturing my lips, my arm went around his shoulder before he lifted me up on the table.

It still baffle me how daemon and I still carve each other touch, in the years of being married we hit rough patches, and I mean really bad ones but somehow we still come out unscathed. Our marriage wasn't perfect. We both did some things that not only hurted ourselves but others in the process, but yet the love was still there, like daemon always promised. I don't think we can ever fall out of love with one another, there was a period where no matter how hard I tried to stop loving or make him stop loving me, we always somehow are brought back together.

@beggarsnotchoosey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @avidreader73 @green-lxght @spderm4nnnn @supermassiveblackhope @watercolorskyy @stargaryenx

[unicoo]

1.01

"110 AC marked the sixth year since the disappearance of Princess Valaena Targaryen. The realm would continue to move forward and House Targaryen would try to move on, though the past does have the tendency to linger about until put to rest. In the seventh year, the Princess returned. A fortnight before the celebrations for King Viserys and Queen Aemma's son, Valaena Targaryen made her way back to King's Landing."

[110 AC]

"He passed through the Red Keep's gates at first light." The normal drag of Ser Harrold Westerling's loud and confident voice is softer. The member of the King's Guard keeps his voice low as he walks beside the Princess he is charged with protecting. The corridor around them is nearly empty, with only a few stray servants making their way through as they do their jobs. Holding up the skirt of her dark gold dress, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen follows the knight down a set of stairs, before they turn the corner and begin to walk down yet another hallway.

"Does my father know he is here?" Rhaenyra asks, looking up at the tall and stocky knight. Her silky, straight, silver hair sways as she moves, the neat braids at the top of her head are fresh as they were everyday. The girl of ten and three wasted no time rushing from the small council meeting and to the throne room, he was here.

Which made the already excitable girl even happier, a delight indeed.

"No." Ser Westerling spoke with a shake of the head as he opens one of the large doors for the young girl to enter through. Still holding her skirts Rhaenyra crosses the threshold and begins to descend the few stairs into the throne room. The entire space is completely empty and eerily quiet, putting Ser Harrold on his toes.

"Good." She spoke with a wide smirk, making the guard look at her with an unsure expression. He could only hope that the Princess's mischievous behavior did not end up costing him his life. The thought is further reinforced as he catches sight of a figure on the Iron throne from his peripheral vision. There he sits, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother to the King, sitting comfortably perched upon the King's Throne.

"Gods be good." Ser Harrold gapes in shock as his hand goes for the hilt of his sword. Rhaenyra quickly throws her hand out in front of her guard, effectively stopping his movements. A smile tugs at the girls lips as she looks to her uncle in all his glory. 

"It's all right, Ser." Rhaenyra speaks soft, but with authority as she dismisses the knight. The elder man stands in place for a moment, his eyes refusing to leave the Prince and his hand staying near the hilt of his sword. His grey eyes watch as the Princess begins to cross the room slowly, carrying herself with grace. It is only then that he decides to retreat, closing the door behind him when he does.

"Sparo drīvose gaomā?" The mother tongue of Old Valyria rolls off the Targaryen girl's tongue beautifully. Daemon, sat among swords of fallen men from the past, leans forward. A rogue smirk painting his lips as his arms move against the chair, he holds no evident worry about cutting himself on any stray blades. Confident as always, his silver hair tied back, but wind kissed from his flight. He wore his normal black and white fabrics and leathers. Rhaenyra could never quite understand why Daemon did not add some color to his wardrobe, at least a little red. She herself loved vibrant colors and beautiful fabrics. (What do you think you are doing uncle?)

"Ñuhoso dēman. Kesy ñuhys dēmavosmāzīlariot sinilus." The smirk on his face only grows as his mind begins to shift towards the future where what he speaks is true. Him sat upon this very throne, the crown of the Conqueror sat atop his brow, with the sword to match strapped to his side. The images of this future quickly turns grey as he remembers, she would not be by my side when it happens. And what is a King without his Queen? (Sitting. This could well be my chair one day.)

"Lo hen pāleknot statilūks, daor." The Princess teases as she raises a playful brow. Her hands intertwine behind her back as she shifts from the heel of her foot to the tips of her toes. A low hum leaves her lips after some seconds of silence. Her uncle has gone quiet as he leaned back, sinking into his depressing thoughts, not that she would know. His sudden silence are something she has become so used to, that she rarely notices it anymore. (Not if you're executed for treason.)

"Hen sŷndrāzmā qurdalbri imastōdaor." The niece speaks up again, knowing that if she doesn't carry the conversation on it would die off before it even lived. At first the uncle gives a simple nod in agreement, soon a smile pulls at his lips before settling. A deep hum bounces around the walls of the room. (You have not come to court in an age.)

"Kessa sȳrī, qurdalbar gierī tegenkor issa." Though his words are serious, his tone is playful. The man does indeed hate court, the only thing that gave him any joy in being there was getting under people's skin. Over the years that joy had began to diminish, after all the fun of picking with lords and ladies does little for the loneliness that court only intensifies. (Yes well, court is so dreadfully boring.)

"Sepār vēzo gō skoro syt āmastā?" She once again teases, though she is truly curious and eager to hear his answer. A rather large part of her wishes to believe that he always comes back for her. The familiar smirk of his, that had fallen, rises yet again as he leans all the way forward. The sunlight that pools just before the Iron Throne hits Daemon, framing him like one of the gods their ancestors worshipped. (Then why come back at all?)

"Kepa aōha yno syt kōttion pradilas, ryptan." Silver brows raises and falls in amusement as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. Rhaenyra shakes her head with a small amused smile. Her eyes move away from her uncle, finding the steps between them before she replies. (I heard your father was hosting a tournament in a my honor.)

"Kōttion dāranno syt issa." Looking back to her uncle, she resists the urge to roll her eyes, indifference painting her features. Her tone betrays her façade, not that it was a very good one. Daemon had seen through it like a fish sees through water. A low hum vibrates in his throat as he leans back once again. (The tournament is for his heir.)

"Heksīr ŷdratan." The Targaryen man says, beginning to grow bored of the conversation before him. He could not quite understand why he was so out of it today. Since he had awoken he found himself gripped by the tight fist of melancholy. The flight to King's Landing had done little to help this relentless feeling, only leaving him worse off as his saddle felt two sizes too big, and now the small glimmer of joy his niece and her familiar looking face normally brought him was not working either. A great part of him knew what it was, especially as year six came, yet a he refused to recognize it. He was fearful that once he did the walls he had built would come crumbling down and he was not sure he would be able to pick himself out of the rubble this time. (Just as I said.)

"Dāranno zŷho arlio syt." Rhaenyra says, this time unable to help the roll of her eyes. In the mist of her own self pity and misery, she misses her uncle's pain. It is not a first time occurrence, nor will it be the last. (His new heir.)

"Iā aōha muña trēsi sikos, iā jevoyrgoti zbērion." He mumbles as his finger run along the flat part of a wayward blade. He secretly hope that he may nick himself upon one of the never dulling weapons. Maybe then he would have an excuse to flee for good, a justifiable reason to betray his blood and all they had built. Perhaps then the gods would not have reason to continue to punish him, after all if the chair deemed him unworthy, they would have to as well. (Until your mother brings forth a son, you are all cursed with me.)

"Sepār valonqri jaelinna." The jest is followed by a giggle, that giggle is followed by silence. Rhaenyra realizes he has done it again, sunk into himself and away from all else. She was used to this behavior, yes, but never this much and never when they were alone. She had always been able to pull him away from whatever it was that took him far away and replace it with herself. (Then I shall hope for a brother.)

"It is good to see you uncle." Rhaenyra says after a few more seconds of silence. What was a better way to gain Daemon's attention than himself? Her words earn a small smile, which warms her inside and eases any insecurity, leaving her to forget her uncle's turmoil. He says nothing for a short period of time, his eyes simply focus on his niece before briefly closing and then reopening.

"As it is to see you." His voice is quiet as his mind drifts to a place similar to this one. As similar as it was, it was not the same, no matter how much he tried to trick his mind into thinking it was. There was no amount of time or molding that would heal the gapping hole he had spent six years trying to heal. It did not matter the amount of bloodshed, whores, wine, or chaos he indulged in, there would always be something missing.

Daemon feels the shiver slide down his spine before his ears pick up the sound. The volume of it so loud the ground trembles as the roar vibrates through the whole of the city. He has never heard it before, but there is a pull at his soul upon hearing the roar, it brings him a sense of familiarity. Quickly he pushes himself up and off of the throne. His feet move before his brain catches up. Rhaenyra's eyes squint in confusion, both at the sound and as the look on her uncles face.

"What is-.." The question is blocked out by another, different roar. This one is ear piercing and it breaks through the air of King's Landing. It it so loud, that not even the thick stone of the Red Keep can muffle the shrill sound. Rhaenyra is unable to remain stoic, her body flinches back at the sound, Daemon's sudden movements only startles her further. The Prince moves so suddenly, his strides long and powerful as he makes his way to the door. He skips over two steps at a time, before quickly throwing one of the doors open so hard it slams against the wall. Beyond the threshold, Ser Harrold stands bewildered as he watches Daemon sprint down the corridor.

A look of utter confusion crosses the young girl's face. Still processing the shock of the events that happened only seconds ago. Rhaenyra stands still, her eyes focused on a group of swords near the bottom of the throne. She cannot help but wonder, what dragons were those? It is the sound of hurried footsteps, and lots of them, that pulls her from her mind.

Her feet carry her towards the door and then up the stairs. See Harrold stands against one of the doors, propping it open with his body. The Princess walks straight past the knight without a word. The sight of lords, ladies, and servants rushing about the corridor greets Rhaenyra upon entering. A shocked gasp leaves her lips as a Dragonkeeper rushes passed Rhaenyra, his robes fluttering behind him as he runs down the hallway going in the opposite direction.

"Which way did my uncle go?" She asks her sworn shield, Ser Westerling raises his hand and points towards the corridor that lead to the main entrance of the castle. Rhaenyra begins to weigh her options as she looks side to side, she could follow the keeper, or she can follow Daemon. Making her decision the Realm's Delight sets off down the hallway and toward another set of doors.

"Rhaenyra!" The voice is familiar enough to cause the girl to look up. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in powder blue and white, is her best friend. The Lady Alicent Hightower, daughter of the Hand of the King Ser Otto Hightower. By the look on the older girl's face it is easy to tell she is scared. Her green eyes are wide as she carefully makes her way down the stairs and into her friends awaiting arms.

"What is happening?" The Lady looks between the Princess and the Knight. The former of the two seems more intrigued than anything, but the latter wears an uneasy expression. It seems everyone else around was feeling that same exact way, scared. And if the screams outside are anything to go by, the people outside of the keep are more terrified than they are.

"I do not know." The Princess answers as her eyes look to one of the windows along the staircase. A large shadow overtakes the keep, and most of the city, though those inside do not yet know that. The loud roar that accompanies the shadow is unlike anything anyone has ever heard. It sounds hoarse and scratchy, but it is loud and powerful, it becomes much more menacing when the roar picks up base and pitch.

"Come on." The Princess tells her friends as she begins to maneuver them passed the staircase. Alicent tries to ground herself where she stands, her eyes flickering over to the King's Guard before going back to the younger girl. Thankfully, Alicent is able to pull Rhaenyra to a stop right in the middle of the hall.

"What? Where?" The Lady questions her Princess, her head shakes side to side as a look of confusion takes over her face. The younger of the two sighs loudly, her eyes move to the door at the end of the hallway. All she had to do was get through that door and then she would be free to walk out of the keep and find her uncle.

"To see what the uproar is about." The Targaryen Princess spoke her words in the most obvious of tones. Where else would I be going? She thought to herself as she tried to continue forward, but Alicent would not allow it. The Lady of Oldtown stood firm, unwilling to follow just yet.

"I think it is best if we just, stay here and wait." Alicent tries, she knows Rhaenyra is not likely to let go of her own idea, the Princess is stubborn like that. Rhaenyra shakes her head, her eyes go wide in disbelief. The halls around them were no where near empty, though neither were they as crowded and hectic as before.

"Oh come on, you not a bit curious?" With a pout and a stomp of her foot, Princess Rhaenyra releases Lady Alicent's arm. When she finishes her words she makes sure to huff a loud sigh as she folds her arms over her chest. Her light brown brow lifts in question and her hip juts out, further showcasing her attitude.

"Curiosity killed the cat." Lady Alicent says with a raise of her own brow, a challenge of sorts. Rolling her eyes Rhaenyra groans in annoyance. She looks at her friend with a glare that slowly softens, but before it can do so fully the Princess looks to her knight.

"We shall be safe with Ser Westerling. Right Ser?" She says, motioning to the man with the hand that is not on her hip. The knight stiffens under the Princess's gaze. His eyes sweep between the two young ladies, one looks expectant and the other uneasy.

"Yes your grace." He has no choice, but to respond. He knew going outside the walls of the Keep with an unknown possible threat was overly risky, but he also knew the Princess Rhaenyra. He could say no now, walk the girls to the Princess's apartments, but Rhaenyra Targaryen would find a way. He could not risk losing another charge, he would not risk it, If one must go, then we all go.

Recognizing the small battle has been won, a large smile worms onto the Princess's face as she turns to her friend. The sound of Ser Harold's armor gets quieter as he walks away from them. Alicent's eyes move away from the spot the knight once stood and to her friends face. Big, pouty, lavender eyes meet green irises. It is then, when she sees the look on the younger girl's face, that she gives in.

Letting out a sigh Lady Alicent walks up to the Princess, she intertwines their hands and nods to her friend. A huge triumph smile sits on Rhaenyra's face as they begin to walk through the corridor. The door has been propped opened by Ser Westerling, who stands outside in the front courtyard. When the ladies get further outside they can see the wheelhouse next to him, the door opened and awaiting them.

She kept in mind what she was told by a soldier guarding the gate, her uncle took a horse and set off towards the dragonpit in a hurry. It made perfect sense in retrospect, if they were being attacked their dragons were their greatest strength. Of course she would go there too. People begin to come out of hiding as the sky became clear of wings and roars. The sight of a royal wheelhouse brings them a sense of ease. Their eager eyes try to catch a glimpse of who is inside.

"Dragon!" The first shout causes no worry among the people in the streets. After all, many a dragon had flown over this very city. Everyone was still on edge, that much was clear, but that royal wheelhouse headed for the dragonpit eased them. Their necks tilt back and eyes go to the sky as a bright red shadow passes over them. The sight of a single dragon means little to them, that is until said dragon begins to descend towards the city below at quick speeds.

"Dragons!" This time the shriek is time stopping, everything seems to stand still as everyone comes to terms with the sight above them. Before the blue dragon can make contact with the city, it pulls up sharply, allowing another dragon to fly underneath it. This dragon is felt before it is seen, the heat from its body emits into the city as it drags its feet over rooftops. The long tail sweeps over chimneys, knocking dirt and debris onto the ground below, causing people to jump out of the way and cry in panic.

"Dragons!" A more panicked scream echoes across the streets, a group harmonization of fear. The carriage comes to a sudden stop, the two ladies inside of slightly jostled about. A large shadow hides the sun from the sky, bathing the road and the carriages upon it in darkness, hiding the dragons. Alicent's eyes go wide as she stares up at the underbelly of the largest beast she had ever seen. The door of the carriage opens hurriedly.

"Princess we should return back to the keep." Ser Westerling is clearly worried, his face may be stoic, but his voice betrays his true emotions. He is obviously afraid, is it that bad? Alicent cannot quite tell, but she knows this cannot be good. Ser Westerling had actually seen the beast, unlike the two young ladies within the carriage, and he knew there was only one creature left in this world that big and that color.

"No, we will carry forth to the dragon-pits, I will be safest there. Only a dragon can fight a dragon." The Princess ordered, her voice oozes with authority as she turns her head, refusing to meet the gaze of the knight. Her eyes look to the window and she watches the shadow pass. With a resigned sigh, Ser Harrold nods his head.

"Very well." He says as he shuts the door and goes back to his horse. Continuing the path to the dragonpit, the party of four trekked through the cobble roads. The knight beside the carriage and the man driving it could not help the glances they would shoot to the sky every so often, waiting for the dragons to appear again.

"Rhaenyra, maybe we would do well to heed Ser Westerlings advice." Alicent says after a few moments of silence. The thought had been eating at her since she saw the large scarred beast above her very head, so close, too close. She could not help, but to wonder about the creature, it was quite large, very large, probably old. And those scars, what dragon is big enough to do that, to that?

"No man alive has the power to protect I, or you, from a dragon. We are safer with Syrax." The Princess says shortly, her annoyance is clear in her voice. The blood of the dragon runs hot, that is unarguable. Alicent's gaze stays on Rhaenyra, who has not moved her eyes away from the window since her conversation with her guard.

"Okay." The Lady mumbles softly, giving in after realizing there would be no reason to argue any further. When Rhaenyra is disagreeable she will hear nothing, but her own thoughts and feelings. Alicent had long learned it was better to appease the young Princess, than further provoke the dragon.

~~

"What are they doing?" The gentle and poised voice asks, eyes trained at the sky as she watches the two dragons circle the city. The sight leaves an uneasy feeling in her gut, she cannot help the panic that inches its way through her body. Seeing the men around her being on edge just like she is brings her no comfort, if anything it adds to her anxiety.

"Circling your grace, as they have been since they arrived." One of the Dragonkeepers informs her grace, Queen Aemma Arryn. He and four other keepers stand outside with her, her grace's husband King Viserys Targaryen, and his Hand Ser Otto Hightower. It had been easy to clear the dragonpit and the surrounding area of people, the dragons flying over the city saw to the help.

"Why would they be doing that?" The Queen speaks up again, her first question only leading to more questions. The famous Arryn blue's look away from the sky and towards her husband, his own lavender eyes still survey the sky. The King looks down with a shrug, his head lightly moves side to side.

"I don't know." He tells his wife as he takes ahold of her hands, giving them a tight squeeze before he guides their joined hands to her swollen belly. Leaning back slightly the King looks back at his Hand and Friend, the man seems uncomfortable, rightly so, but he hides it well. Viserys is prepared to say something when a new dragonkeeper steps forward.

"Pōnta umbagon." He says, stopping his King completely. The man looks at the sky, unlike everyone else he seems genuinely calm, a feat Viserys is sure many men have accomplished before. The Targaryen King looked over the man, committing him to memory. His dark black hair is pulled back and tied near his neck, a beard of black and grey compliments his face, as well various scars. He wears the same red and tan robes as the other keepers, but he does not carry a stick, instead there is a whip hanging at his side. (They wait)

"Syt skoros?" Viserys questions the man, his High Valyrian a little rusty from not being used in so long. No reply can be spoken, for the arrival of a wheelhouse interrupts the exchange. The King watches as his daughter's sworn guard brings his horse to a stop before climbing off. The driver of the wheelhouse has also come down, his attention on putting the steps out. The Queen's grip tightens around her husband's hand as they watch the knight open the wheelhouse door. (For what?)

"Rhaenyra, you should not be here." Aemma says as she quickly steps forward. Her features completely drop in worry as she watches her daughter's feet touch the ground. The Princess stands in place, surprised to see her parents are also here. Why would they be here? Why would they not be here? She silently curses herself for forgetting the King and Queen, she forgot about her own parents.

Rookie move.

"Ser Westerling escort the Princess back to the Red Keep." The King is quick to order Ser Harrold and the Lord Commander Ser Ryam Redwyne. He had already found his way to his wife's side again, he had not wanted her to come, when Otto alerted him of the dragons they had been on a walk through the gardens. Viserys had tried to get Aemma to return to Maegor's Holdfast, but she would hear nothing about leaving his side. Rhaenyra is not pleased with her father's quick decision, her feet guide her towards her parents. In doing so she clears a path for her tag along to exit the carriage.

"We are safer here, the Keepers should bring Syrax forward." Rhaenyra argues, her eyes flicker between her parents as she hopes at least one of them will agree with her, she should've known better. Aemma feared the creatures extremely, having been born in the Vale, dragons were scary nightmare inducing beasts. As for Viserys, well he had been without a dragon for so long, he had forgotten the strength and power that comes with a dragon under you being. My parents fires are dim, but it is not their faults, She tells herself

It is while Viserys begins to argue with his daughter that Ser Otto spots his own. The man in green stiffens as his eyes narrow and his face pinches into a glare. The sight of her father is one Lady Alicent will only look at once. Her green eyes swiftly move away from her father and to her friend, who she slowly approaches, making sure to be respectful as the Princess spoke with the King and Queen.

"Maghagon syrax." Rhaenyra orders, ignoring her parents who sigh in disapproval at their stubborn headstrong daughter. The keepers do not move, their sights set on the King awaiting his further instruction. With a sigh Viserys begins to weighs his options. (Bring Syrax)

"Two dragons are better than one father." And that is what does it, the King gives in, as he always does. With a slight nod to the dragonkeepers his Queen sighs before releasing him and stepping towards Alicent. Aemma extends a hand to the girl, Alicent had been a constant figure in their lives since she was a young child. She accompanied her father and mother to King's Landing, she started off helping look after the Old King and then she became Rhaenyra's lady in waiting. In 102 when her mother, Lady Alerie Florent died, Alicent pulled closer to their family. Aemma gladly welcomed it, for she would never turn a child away.

The sound of familiar clicking draws everyone's attention. With a loud shrill shriek, Caraxes alerts the dragons in the sky of his presence. All eyes fall onto the red dragon, the Blood Wyrm, as he exits the cave. His rider walking by his side with his hand on the hilt of the ancient Valyrian Steal sword Dark Sister.

"Daemon." Viserys says with a sigh, his eyes flicker to Otto, whose eyes are already on Daemon. The Rogue Prince's eyes are directed at the sky as his dragon releases another shrill sound into the air. Slowly Daemon turns to face his brother, a small smirk settles at his lips.

"Brother, Aemma." The way he greets them is obviously different, with Aemma it is warm, loving and familial. With Viserys it is cold and indifferent, he does not even have the curtesy or respect to hide it. And that bothers Otto to no ends, Daemon can tell, so he relishes it.

"Daemon, do you know anything about, this?" Viserys questions his brother with a raised brow, the light brown hair curls in a way that makes Daemon think that it would completely disappear. The younger brother hums, his attention turning back to the sky. All eyes go to Daemon as he moves to lean against Caraxes, the dragon's right eyes moves to look at his rider. The two of them against the world, prepared for anything.

"I have a hunch." He says as he nods to his mount, causing the dragon to turn his attention back to the sky. The Queen and Lady flinch back when Caraxes lets out another screech, this one is louder, longer. The King and Hand look to the Prince, wondering if he will continue his words, instead it is a dragons that speak. From the sky, a roar very similar to Caraxes' shrieks back to the Blood Wyrm. The Princess cannot help the laugh that leaves her chest as she watches Caraxes' head jerk up. The red creature looks to his rider, confusion resting on his dragonly features.

"Do you think it is her?" Aemma asks her cousin as she releases Alicent. Her sore feet carry her to Daemon, the older of the two tilts his head to one side and then slowly the other. Nothing is said as another roar vibrates through the sky, it is loud and rough in their ears. The nearby birds fly up into the sky in large groups as the noise startles them into defense.

"It seems we shall be seeing very soon." Daemon mumbles as the three dragons come together. They fly above the dragonpit in a uniform circle, one right behind the other. It reminds Rhaenyra of the circle version of their sigil, which they use mostly for pendants and other jewelry.

Another roar rips through the sky, the third dragon has finally spoken, the roar that comes from the smallest shadow is powerful. It is that same dragon that begins to descend first, fast and swift the dragon moves between the other two. The pink accents of its wings glistening with help from the sun, the underside of the creature is a beautiful midnight blue. None of them recognize the creature that is nearly Caraxes' size and as fast as Meleys.

The roar that sounded so much like Caraxes moves through the air once more. They watch as a shadow of purple takes over the sky above them. The dragon with Caraxes' roar opens its wings wide, showing off their large wingspan. It doesn't take long for the second dragon to come up on the first, there was no doubt that this dragon was as faster than the Red Queen. Daemon had never seen dragons move this way before, so fast and agile as they weave in between each other.

The ground shakes under the weigh of the two dragons, who look bigger now that they are grounded. The pink on the blue dragon is more prominent up close, speckling its tail, crest, horns, and belly. The claws of the beast were as black as its back, the blue faded into the color of nothing, and it's eyes were bright red, nearly pink. That dragon lands closest to the left side of the dragonpit, it is more relaxed than it's companion, who chose the right side of the dragon pit, closest to Caraxes.

The dark purple dragon looks at them with predatory purple eyes. Despite the dragon looking purely purple in the air, it was actually mostly red, from underbelly to chest and crest. This dragon keeps low to the ground, it is very clearly in the defensive. The red membranes along the dragons back stand up, pushing the red quills into the air. The black horns that frame its face and neck are large, they surround the face like a helmet that protects its eyes and neck. The long red and purple tail sweeps through the air as it stares Caraxes, down.

Neither dragon moves, they simply keep their eyes on the group before them, even when the beast of beasts lands between them. Those large and powerful legs send tremors through the ground as it lands before them. No one moves as those piercing green eyes of story does what they do best, induce fear in all close enough to see them. As dark as night, the Cannibal moves more like a snake than a dragon. The dragons large body worms and waves as it walks to settle.

Daemon can feel Caraxes' unease, he tries to comfort his mount, but it is too late. Caraxes moves forward with a power roar directed right at the Cannibal. Aemma can swear she spots a smirk on the black monsters face. Gasps of pain and fear ring out on both sides of Daemon as everyone flinches back. The roar the beast releases back to Caraxes is grating against the ears. It is raspy and causes the dragons neck to shake and its chest to rattle.

"Gīda Caraxes, Gīda." The Prince tries, his hand stroking the old boy's side. Caraxes does not listen to Daemon's words, instead he stands his ground against the eater of dragons. Ever the fearless old boy, loyally fierce and unwaveringly strong. The ear scratching sound continues, as well as the Blood Wyrm's shrieks and screeches. (Calm Caraxes Calm)

"Ziry iksos jāhor daor mirre issa dārilaros, Ziry iksos syt se zaldrīzoti sir." The same dragonkeeper that had briefly spoken to the King says, his eyes wide with awe as he watched a the sight before him. The Cannibal raises its head higher into the air, the sound get higher until the dragon is letting out a screeching shriek of its own. Slowly Caraxes' head begins to lower, the deeper the Cannibal's shriek goes, the lower Caraxes moves. The smaller dragon shakes his head and neck, his jaws snip and snap at the air as he tries to stay strong. The larger dragon bares his teeth as he lifts his head, a clicking sound rings from the back of his throat until both dragons stop their sounds. (It will not work my Prince, is for the dragons now.)

Everything stands still, no one moves, not even the dragons as their eyes lock in a powerful battle of wills. If Daemon did not know any better he would think they were fighting for dominance. Are they? They are. The Cannibal's neck works downward as its back arches upwards. The sight of white hair is what greets them as the dragon leans down and continues towards them, getting closer and closer to Caraxes. The Blood Wyrm moves his eyes away from the Cannibals, unable to keep the contact going, his first mistake. The second would be looking up at the person upon the dragons back. It is then, as his golden eyes meet her familiar ones that he bends his neck to the rider and dragon.

This time the Queen is not the only one to notice the dragonly smirk, if the Cannibal had not been terrifying before, he was now. Sharp and jagged teeth poke from its large mouth, a mouth that could no doubt swallow a wheelhouse whole. Those green orbs move across the row of people, from left to right, then again from right to left. The Cannibal's eyes stay focused towards the left, green meets purple and then a different green. As it focuses on the King and Hand, that same low sound comes from deep within the cannibal's chest. His dark and scarred chest visibly shakes as that low grumbled growl moves through the air and against the ground.

"What is it doing?" Rhaenyra was by no mean a dragon expert, but she was no idiot either. Each dragon was different in many ways, looks, colors, sounds, personalities, but she had never heard or seen any dragon do that. Nor could she remember reading about anything like this. Her lavender eyes move right passed her uncle and to the dragonkeeper, she could feel the vibration in her feet and through her whole body.

"He warns." The one keeper who stayed says, Daemon's eyes flicker to him as he makes a mental note to speak with this man later. No one gets the chance to ask any further questions or say anything else, the sound of Syrax's chirps notifies them of the she-dragons presence. It is the sight of her yellow shining scales that sends the purple dragon into a fit of shrill screeches and high pitched roars. The spoiled she-dragon hesitates in her steps as she looks to her rider, who had already began to approach her mount.

"Shh." Rhaenyra coos to her beloved babe, Syrax moves as close to Rhaenyra as possible. Another chirp leaves Syrax before she belts out a roar, that only serves to rouse the other dragon. Its deeper roar pierces through the air as it shakes its neck and head side to side. A sharp whistles rings into the air causing the blue beast to snap its jaws open and shut. The other dragon raises its head high into the air, releasing a sound that sounds like it is trying whistling back, before it begins to back away.

Slowly the largest creature in the area begins to lower itself onto the ground. The large beast settles, crouching down as low as possible. A few seconds pass by before the sound of feet hitting the dirt hits everyone's ears. Boots crunch against the gravel causing Daemon to take a step forward, his eyes wide and searching as he waits for the figure to come into view.

Disappointment crosses over the Prince's features when, instead of seeing his beloved, it is some random man. He is dressed in black pants, a brown leather shirt, and a black overcoat. The whitecloak that is thrown over his shoulders does nothing to hide the large long sword strapped to his back. The shinning silver steel glistening against the sun as the unknown man moves closer to the Cannibal's head. His eyes move over the group of people before he abruptly turns. The ax that is strapped to his side sways as he walks back to where he came from, disappearing behind the dragons.

Another whistle is heard from somewhere behind the mass of that jet black creature. They watch as one of the dragon's shoulders raises before lowering down carefully as it gets so close to the ground, that it's chest thuds against the surface beneath them. The tremor it sends through the earth leaves the noble party on the other side of the dragonpit unstable in their standing for a moment longer than what would please them. As they find stability, their eyes take in the sight of the figure holding onto one of the spikes that curve off of the dragon's neck.

The Prince continues to watch, even as a few soldiers begin to creep from out of the dragonpit, Daemon watches as the man holds his hand out for the woman to take. He watches as the figure he cannot be sure is her, but so desperately hopes is, accepts the man's hand as she steps off of the dragon and onto the ground. The sound of feet scuffling against gravel causes all three dragons to perk up in defense.

"Tell them to go back." Daemon says as he watches the purple dragon begin to slither and slink about, it too moving more like a snake than a dragon. The dragon begins to shake its head and neck side to side as a high pitched clicking sounds from the back of its throat. The blue dragon has stood up on its back legs, the large claws of the front legs scarp against dirt and pebbles as the dragon pushes itself off of the ground in the front. It too begins to release the clicking sound from deep within its gut.

"What?" Viserys quietly asks his brother as he turns his attention off of the dragons and to Daemon. The Rogue Prince rolls his eyes and scoffs as he watches the blue dragon slams its claws back onto the dirt. The Cannibal's eyes flicker from guard to guard as it continues to let out the warning bells from deep within its being.

"Now! Or we all burn." Daemon orders as the last dragon joins in on making the clicking sound. Anyone who has spent any amount of time around dragons knows that sound is anything, but a good omen. He cannot see the people anymore, their bodies now long hidden by the dragons, which only added to the signs that pointed towards bad things.

"Go, now!" The King orders causing the men to look at each other and then the King's Guard members. They slowly began to back out of the area, their eyes falling away from their King and towards the dragons. The blue one keeps by the beast of nightmares, it's bright pink eyes watch the soldiers with more amusement than the dragon next to it, who stares in disinterest.

A loud gasp is punched from a soldier when the purple dragon's tail drags across the ground, tripping the man immediately. Everyone is helpless as they watch the purple dragon begin to creep towards the fallen soldier. A look of hunger passes over the beasts face as its tongue comes out to lick around its mouth. The man tries to crawl backwards and get away, but the dragon snips at his leg, pulling him back to where he fell. The man cries out in fear more than pain, for the dragon does not sink its teeth into him, nor does it even use its teeth again at all. The purple and red creature nudges the soldier with its nose, pushing him flat onto the ground.

"Baenys, back!" A deep and husky voice speaks out. The dragon, Baenys, moves away from the man, but not before using its nose to push him once more. A puff of smoke is huffed from its nose and it turns before making its way to the blue dragon. The soldiers scurry away once the dragons turn their attention away. Caraxes and Syrax watch as Baenys nips at the other dragon, making it move so Baenys could sit down.

A streak of golden-silver and purple flashes between the dragons, both of which are nearly as big as Caraxes, whom does not take his attention off of them. Syrax is right there with him, though she is more unsure and curious than Caraxes, who will keep his guard up until he deems it unnecessary. Neither of the colorful dragons pay attention to the other ones across the pit, instead their interest is directed elsewhere.

The largest and oldest dragon finally seats itself upon the ground, which shakes under the weight and movement. The view that the large black body once blocked is now clear. The party of six, and the three dragonkeeper that stayed behind, watch as Baenys preens under the attention it is receiving from both the man and silver haired woman. The latter rubs both hands against the side of the purple dragon's neck, right between the horns. The former stands closer to the dragon's chest, which he places heavy and affectionate pats upon.

The only lady keeper present chuckles when the blue dragon nudges the man causing him to bump into Baenys. The slightly larger dragon snaps at the other, clearly displeased with the action. Baenys uses its tail to wack the other dragon on the face, which causes it to step back and shake its head. The purple and red dragon lets out a short shrill sound as it snaps its maw in its companion's direction. The woman, who still had yet to properly show her face, moves away from Baenys and walks over to the other dragon. Everyone watches intently as the lady walks towards the blue beast's belly.

"It is, purring." Lady Alicent says as they all watch the smaller dragon tilt its head up as it lets out purrs of joy. Its blue and pink spiked tail wags about in joy as the woman continues to give the great beast of Old Valyria belly rubs. As Queen Aemma and the others watch the unnamed dragon plop down onto the ground, she cannot help but marvel at the beast, the involuntary bounce of her body bothers her none as she thinks about how that dragon resembles a loyal dog. The dragon plopping down onto his side jostles the woman, sending her stumbling back with a laugh.

That laugh, that laugh is all too familiar. It is her, Prince Daemon cannot fight the smile that has found home upon his lips. The gapping hole in his heart, that grew in size with every year that passed, slowly begins to close. He acts before he thinks, not an uncommon occurrence, his strides are too long and harsh and the sound attracts the attention of the green eyes monster. That same low vibrating hum starts up and like moths to a flame the other two dragons give him their attention as well.

"Daemon." Viserys calls out to his brother in warning as he watches Baenys crouch on the ground. It is Ser Otto who notices how Baenys' gaze quickly moves from Daemon and to Caraxes. The smaller dragon sizes up the larger one, all the while the Blood Wyrm is focused on the Cannibal. The other dragon rolls onto its belly, its fiery eyes landing on Rhaenyra and Syrax, who stand side by side, close to the Queen and Lady.

Rhaenyra watches the mystery woman walk to her mount. The dragon dwarfs her in both height and size. She lays a small hand right against the beast's cheek, she faces the dragon bravely, head on. Her own eyes gaze straight into his, her hand rubbing across the rough scarred skin, there is no fear of the jagged teeth that stick up and out from every which way.

Aemma's eyes go her cousin and good brother, impatience is written clear across his face. His brows frown showing his displeasure, the white hair so light it blends in completely with his pale brow bone. His displeasure continues to grow as he watches that man walk towards her. Otto looks at Daemon with a smirk that only grows as Daemon's scowl deepens. The man places his hand on the arch of her back, his mouth leans in close to her ear, and she leans in even closer. None of them knows what has been said, but they watch as the man backs away with a nod.

"Oh fuck this." Daemon grumbles as he begins to walk forward again, this time he makes sure his steps are light and unhurried. His eyes move over to the blue dragon first, it is closer to her and the cannibal, it's bright eyes follow Daemon curiously as it slightly tilts its head to the side. He watches the blue beast slump down further before his eyes move to Baenys, whose purple eyes stare right into Daemon's almost immediately. Caraxes slinks after his rider, taking advantage of the Cannibal's attention being elsewhere, but he is not as slick at he thinks.

Purple meets gold as Baenys lunges at Caraxes, its maw snaps open and shut before it begins to screech at Caraxes. The older dragon swings his head side to side as he shrieks at the other dragon. Daemon stops walking as he turns to watch Caraxes whip his tail at Baenys, who swipes as him with her wing as she lets out a quick series of short shrieks back. With a tilt of his head and a raise of his brow, the Prince watches his mount move back in shock before settling on the ground and looking at the dragon.

"I like think they will get along." A voice calls out, it is soft like velvet and airier than the winds near the highest cloud. She too watches as Baenys settles on the ground, her gaze stays on Caraxes as she does. He doesn't seem to be bother by it, if anything he's enjoying the attention. A smile sits on her face as her eyes meet his, Caraxes shrills in delight as he moves passed Daemon and Baenys.

Her laughs rings through the air again as Caraxes eagerly moves towards her. She walks forward, meeting him in the middle with her hand out and ready. The fiery red scales are just as rough and warm to the touch as she remembered. A relationship formed years ago is shown before all as the Blood Wyrm begins putting against her touch. He had been the second dragon she ever met, her uncle had taken her out upon his companion many times.

When Prince Aemon died the two were pulled apart for some time, until 94 AC to be exact. Her brother Daemon claimed the dragon that year, the same year the Velaryon twins were born. It was inevitable that they would meet again, especially since she and Daemon were attached by the hip. It had been easy for Caraxes to accept her upon his back again, sometimes his rider would joke that Caraxes only let him claim him to get closer to her. Six years ago when Daemon had been sent away without Caraxes, she was the one to take care of the dragon, but then she too left.

Daemon did not return until nearly seven moons later, he quickly realized his sister was gone and set out on Caraxes to find her. The two searched for moons, never truly giving up even as the years continued to pass. The two of them mourned her disappearance together, the grief they both felt separately was intensified through their bond. It is that same bond that Caraxes begins to feel Daemon's impatience through. The red dragon rubs against her hand one last time before backing away and when he does he leaves the two feet apart from each other, so close they could reach out and feel the other.

"Lēkia, ziry emagon issare-.." She begins as her hands fall to her sides, her thumbs roughly rub and scratch at her index fingers. She cannot even finish her sentence, for Daemon runs forward, closing the gap, and pulling her into his arms. Silence takes over the air as everyone, including the dragons, watch as Daemon pulls her as close as he can. (Brother, it has been..)

There are a few awkward moments, where she is not sure what to do. She stands stiffly, her arms still by her side as her eyes stare into space. She had expected him to be angry, to curse her in High Valyrian before climbing atop of Caraxes and flying away. When it fully registers that he had not done either of those things, that he is glad to see her, she relaxes into his arms. Her own loosen enough for her to raise them and wrap them tightly around his broad back.

A deep sigh leaves his chest, it is full of relief and contentment, it is followed by a series of quick and erratic breaths that soon turn into laughter. Loud giggles erupt into the air when Daemon picks her up off of the ground and begins to spin them around, one of his arms secures around her waist and the other holds her upper back. One of her hands moves to wrap around his shoulders and the other moves to the back of his head. From the corners of his eyes, Ser Otto looks to the King with a look of uncertainty on his features as he watches the man wrap his arm around his wife's waist.

"Who is it?" Lady Alicent asks Rhaenyra, who's head is leaning against Syrax'. The girl in blue looks to the girl in gold, who shrugs her shoulders as her eyes squint in attempt to see who it is her uncle is facing. The woman must be Targaryen, that is all Rhaenyra knows for certain. Alicent's green eyes widen as she watches Daemon wrap the unknown woman in his arms and spin her around. She immediately looks to her lady beside her, Rhaenyra's face drops and her posture turns ridged. Her chest begins to rage like an inferno as she listens to the woman's beautiful giggles fill the air and watches the way Daemon holds her.

"I am not sure." The Princess says as she lifts her head away from Syrax, the dragoness letting out shrills at the broken connection. The other dragon that had yet to be named lets out a small roar in return. Syrax starts to take a step forward, but the sight of her rider stepping ahead of her with folded arms stops her. Aemma looks to her daughter, worry crossing her features as she realizes that her daughter is about to experience a pain unlike any other.

Daemon put her on the ground again, though the two of them do not pull apart just yet. They continue to hug, Daemon's hand gives her waist soothing squeezes as she softly rubs the back of his neck. Otto watches the interaction with growing apprehension, there were so many things that could go wrong because of the currently unfolding events. The Queen tries to step forward, but the King stops her. He still does not fully trust the situation, but he definitely doesn't trust those dragons.

The Princess begins to walk over to her parents, her friend and lady walks behind her, keeping close as she keeps a cautious eye on all of the dragons around. Alicent does not get far before Otto's hand wraps around her wrist. He tugs his daughter to a stop by his left side, but he does not look at her right away. Instead he keeps his eyes on Daemon and who he can only guess to be her. The Hightower man allows his daughter to fidget in her anxiousness for a few seconds before he finally turns to look down at her. His expressions is far from a pleased one, disappointment oozes out of him and into the air around them.

"We will speak later." He says releasing her as he watches the two Targaryen's in front of them finally pull away. Neither of them say anything as they take each other in. She notes that his hair has gotten longer as he notes that her own has been cut a few inches shorter. She had grown taller for the last time he had seen her, she stopped just at his chest and

now she fit under his chin perfectly, like two puzzle pieces meant to be together.

Her face has thinned out and matured into more womanly features. Her jaw is sharper now compared to her once soft and youthful face. Her alabaster skin looks soft and smooth, its not as pale as it once was, now slightly tanned and glowing. She too notices that Daemon's face has matured, gone was his youthful boyish looks, now replaced by a matured man who has lived a live full of experience despite his young age.

"You have changed Valaena." Daemon says a with a proud smirk as he takes her hands in his. A smirk, that matches his almost perfectly, rises onto her lips as she takes two steps back. It is then Daemon remembers the man who accompanied his sister. He stands in front of the dragons, just behind Valaena, but a little off to the side. One of his hands rests near his hip and the other rests over his chest.

"Six year does that to a person I suppose." She jests with a small smile before she follows her brother's gaze. Amusement bubbles in her chest as she looks back to Daemon to see his brows frowned and his lips curled up in the left corner. She rolls her eyes before allowing the bright orbs to pass over the people who stand behind him.

"Three dragons." It is no question, Daemon's statement is clear and coated with awe and curiosity. He looks between the three dragon, only one is paying them any attention, Vaerax. That is was what she had named him, after her two favorite dragons she had explained after revealing the name years ago. The other two dragons do not seem to care about what is going on around them anymore. Baenys is laid upon the ground near Caraxes, the purple dragon's eyes are closed and the red watches it closely. The other dragon, that still had yet to be named, is using its claws to roll around the helm that had fallen from the careless soldier earlier.

"My sweet girl Baenys and my special boy Daegon." She says as she looks over her shoulder to each of her beloveds. Daemon too looks to them, Baenys being a she-dragon made complete sense now. The other, Daegon, has stopped playing with the helm at the sound of his name. He scoots closer to Valaena who smile brightly at him.

"They are impressive, nearly as big as Caraxes, they must have hatched some time ago." Her brother says as he studies the dragons. Baenys was bigger than Daegon and clearly the one in charge, if her attitude was anything to go by. How she managed to go from none to one to three dragon, Daemon did not know, but he was amazed.

"Almost six years ago actually." Valaena replies as she looks between her dragons and her brother's. She always knew they were on the bigger side, but seeing Baenys laid next to Caraxes made their size even more apparent. Daemon doesn't get to reply, the sound of a whistle stops him and makes his sister look away. She looks back to the unknown man, who spins his finger in a circle once before titling his head slightly. All three dragons perk up at the sound, Valaena looks to Vaerax first and all it takes it a single nod between the two. The Cannibal releases one last quick roar before taking to the air with a strong push of his legs and a wide flap of his wings.

Baenys looks at Valaena and then the man before letting out a sound that was an attempt to mimic a whistle. Daemon watches his sister nod to the dragon with a soft smile, the dragon then turns to the man, who nods as well. It is then Baenys pushes off the ground and follows after Vaerax. Daegon is the last to leave and he doesn't do so until he's gotten a proper goodbye.

The blue dragon nudges Valaena and in doing so nudges Daemon, who is still standing next to her. His arm instinctively reach out to grab his sister's waist and steady her. With another giggle Valaena starts to reach out, but stops and goes to grab one of Daemon's hand. She guides their hands towards Daegon, the two of them rub the dragons cheek. With a sweet purr, Daegon looks at the two with happiness in his eyes before pushing off the ground and following after the other dragons.

The two of them watch as the three dragons fly high into the sky. They do not go far, instead opting to circle the dragonpit and Rhaenys' High Hill. Again the Princess looks to the mouth of the dragonpit. There they stand, with him. It makes Valaena's stomach twist, to know she is cared for so little by them that they would keep him around. She supposes it doesn't matter, not truly, not when compared to every other issue before them. Priorities, she reminded herself.

Daemon looks over his shoulder and follows Valaena's gaze. He does not blame her for looking at the group with distaste, for he is sure she is having many of the same thoughts he has. His hand reaches for hers again, when he takes ahold of it he uses his grip to pull her closer to him. Behind them Rhaenyra watches with an increasing feeling of jealousy that is slowly turning into annoyance and she no longer wants to be here.

It is sound of horse hooves filling the courtyard that moves everyone's attention elsewhere, something Rhaenyra is very grateful for. Valaena backs away from her brother, who watches in confusion. She brought more people with? Daemon begins to wonder how many more surprises she had up her sleeves. Those present watch as a silver wheelhouse with red trim, black wheels, and dragon designs that match Valaena's three, pulls into the courtyard of the dragonpit.

The man that accompanied the Princess, pulls a string causing four steps to slide out from under the wheelhouse. One by one, five ladies step from the wheelhouse, each different than the previous. The Princess practically jogs towards said wheelhouse with a sense of joy she didn't have until then. She approaches them and there is a moment where she quietly speaks to them before looking over to the wheelhouse. The steps have been pushed back up and the man who guided it to the dragonpit it now standing with the other man.

Valaena says something else, the far distance that makes her voice inaudible begins to irritate the King. He does not know what she had been saying this whole time and knowing her the possibilities are endless. The dragons were gone and as is his unease. The Hightower Hand notices this switch in emotion, perhaps he would have less to worry about than he thought.

The Princess looks over her shoulder, to Daemon first and then the group of five further ahead. When she turns back one of the lady smiles at her as she reaches forward and takes ahold of her hand. With a deep breath Valaena nods before linking their arms together and turning around. The two of them lead the group forward, with a man on either side of them as they approach Daemon. He watches as his sister nods to him as she uses her available hand to gesture for him to lead the way.

Daemon smirked as he nodded back to his sister. This will be interesting, he thought as he turned around. A laugh bubbles out of his chest as his eyes move from Viserys to Otto, oh this will be amazing. The Prince receives a strange look from everyone as he comes closer, his laughter clearly heard by both parties. He comes to a stop in front of Aemma, Daemon would rather stand closer to her than the man she calls her husband, especially for what is about to happen.

The Princess comes to a stop in front of Viserys, with her lady still on her arm and the man who arrived with her right behind her. The rest of her party comes to a stop next to the man behind her, with the other man standing on the opposite end. Now face to face, neither Viserys or Valaena speak for a moment, a long moment. Just as their brother had, Viserys takes their little sister in, not sure what to do or how she will react. She has grown more comely with time, her beauty never lacked, even as a child. As annoying as she was, Viserys could not deny that she was pleasant to look at.

The silence continues, to the point that it becomes awkward. The lavender eyes of the King track side to side as he looks to see the reactions around him, he wonders if they feel as awkward as he does, they must. Viserys looks back to his sister and begins to wonder if she expects him to go first, should he? He is not sure and there is no way to ask anyone for advice. It is then Viserys remembers he is King, he need not say anything first, the proper and respectful thing is for her to greet him. Especially after the hell she put him and countless others through.

The Queen releases a shaky sigh as she looks between the brother and sister, her eyes then move to Daemon, who is poorly hiding a small smirk. Her gaze then falls to her daughter, who is busy studying the beautiful woman before her. Seeing the woman closer doesn't help the Realm's Delight identity her and that further fuels her annoyance. Alicent and Otto are the next people that Aemma looks to. The latter stands next to Viserys, his head held high and confidence all over his face. The daughter stands behind her father and the King, as close to the Queen and Princess as she can manage without adding to her upcoming scolding.

"One might greet the King they stand before, tis only proper manners." Slowly, a smile tugs at Valaena's lips, her eyes twinkle with excitement as she unlinks her arm for the woman's beside her. Those bright amethyst orbs looks to said King, before looking over to the King's ass wiper. She interlaces her hands before folding them in front of her as she tilts her head back, effectively raising her chin higher. Her back straightens as her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth a few times.

"I thought that after six years everything would have changed, that I would recognize nothing when I returned, but it seems I was wrong." She begins, her eyes moving from right to left. First landing on Rhaenyra, who immediately turns her sights away from the woman as to avoid eye contact. Valaena chuckles softly under her breath at that as she moves on to Aemma. She raises a brow at the Queen, who gives a stiff nod and a stiffer smile. Next is the King, who turns his head just a bit, as if telling her that she has captured his attention and to go on.

"Because that stick is definitely still, very much stuck far up your arse." Taking a step forward, Valaena finishes her thought with no hesitation and a smirk on her lips. Gasps leave the Queen and Lady, the King and Hand are taken aback with big eyes and gapped mouths. A loud laugh sounds right from Daemon's chest as he throws his head back, his hand going to his chest. From beside her mother, the Princess hides her giggles behind her hand. Her eyes are wide, but not in horror like her mother or friend, instead they are wide in admiration.

"I have been told there is a spot in, there, that can help you achieve relief-..." She proves she is far from done very quickly as she continues. Using her fingers she draws a circle in the air and then uses that same finger to somewhat demonstrate what she is saying. The man behind Valaena chortles as he shakes his head lightly. The woman next to the Princess swats her hand, making it fall from the air, as she lowers her head and softly shakes it. The man being spoken about has gone red in the face, his lips curled in irritation as he glares at the woman.

"Valaena!" The sound of her brother's authoritative voice, or at least his attempt at one, amuses and annoys her. Her eyes roll and she laughs, there is no regret for her words and no care of the trouble she is causing. She looks to Viserys again, truly taking him in this time. He has gotten plump, his belly now the biggest part of him, beating out his incompetence by leagues it would seem. He had also visibly aged, the responsibilities and burdens of the crown he never deserved were obviously weighing down on him. Good, she thinks, live with the consequences of your injustices.

"Brother." Finally she has spoken to him, only for it to be condescending. Those old enough to remember Valaena, remember the relationship she had with her brother, or the lack thereof. For Daemon these little fights had been something he missed, seeing Viserys get so flustered as their younger sister owned him time and time again never got old. The Rogue Prince grinned as he subconsciously moves closer to his sister. Otto always despised Valaena's blatant disrespect for her brother, especially after she became his ward. He continues to glare at the woman, praying the gods may strike her in that very moment.

"It is good to see you again." Aemma says as she steps forward, hoping to stop any possible fights before they start. She always hated it when her cousins went at it, long before she married Viserys, and even more after. A part of her could not believe they had just been reunited and were already about to argue, but another part of her is not surprised, for this is how they are. Not today, she thinks, she will not allow them to hold her back from seeing the joy in this moment. After six years they were all finally reunited, right where they all belonged.

The Queen in quick to walk forward and pull her good-sister into the best hug she can, her swollen belly brushes against her cousin as she does. Rhaenyra watches as the Princess, she now knows to be her long lost aunt, reluctantly hugs her mother back. The man behind Valaena watches her carefully, quickly noticing the stuttering in her breathing. Something her brother Prince Daemon may have caught if he wasn't looking at the man behind his sister. Princess Rhaenyra's eyes move to look at Daemon, who now stands in front of her and for the first time she could ever remember, he paid her no mind.

"Your grace." Valaena says as the two women pull away, one quicker than the other, a thing that does not go unnoticed by said other. She looks to her brother again and lower into a curtsy. The sight causes Otto Hightower to smile smugly, a smile that quickly leaves when Valaena rises abruptly.

"Kinghood has changed you, your grace." She playful states as her eyes flicker down to her brother's gut. If she didn't know any better she would think he too was with child. Viserys lightly chuckles with a nod as he pats the side of his belly. The sight causes Daemon's face to drop and his lips to thin as he sighs.

"Allow me to make introductions." She quickly says, not even giving Viserys the chance to verbally respond, she simply just did not care. Turning on her feet, she approaches the woman she left behind not too long ago. She and the woman move to stand on the side of the other women, causing the man that was there to slowly backup, just a bit.

"These are my ladies, Ellya of Volantis," The First woman she introduces is the one she seems closest with, the one who held her arms and slapped her hand. Her skin is olive, which makes sense for a woman of Volantis. Her black hair is braided around her head and when she turns a certain way, the white streaks in the back are visible. Her eyes are a deep purple color, she is of Valyria descent, that much is clear. Her dress is also purple and made from quality material, that is obvious from just once glance. Wrapped around her shoulders is a grey fur. The woman curtsy's lightly and lightly speaking a greeting, knowing it is proper to show respect to the royals before her, but she does not wish to give them more respect than she thinks they deserve.

"Myria Rayven," The next woman she introduces has light brown skin and curly ginger hair. She wears a thick red shawl that is so long, it is wrapped around her twice and still hangs passed her knees, it also hide her outfit underneath. She lowers into a bow, her head lowering just a pinch as she speaks her greetings. When she raises a genuine smile resides upon her face. Her brown eyes glow beautifully as the sunlight hits her just right.

"Ysilla Sand." The last name of the next woman leaves them with no questions on if she is Dornish or not. If not for the last name, her light brown skin, dark brown hair, and honey eyes may have given her away. She wears her brown hair messily at the base of her neck, with a golden clamp keeping it in place. An orange dress with long flowing fabric coming from the shoulders decorates her body. She holds those sleeves in her hands, which are resting on her arms that are folded against her chest.

They all watch the Dornish woman, those who just arrived watch her knowingly, those who didn't watch on edge. It is no secret that the Dornish do not particularly favor the Targaryens, and that favor was returned tenfold. The Dornish Wars were still fresh in the minds, what they had done to House Targaryen, what House Targaryen had done to them. Otto, ever the smug bastard, cannot wait to see how this Dornish bastard will ruin this for Valaena.

"Your grace, it is an honor." Ysilla says with a deep curtsy, the smile on her face is fake and mocking, but only those who know her know it. Her words surprise the other side, Viserys and Aemma look at her with wide eyes and pleased smiles, Otto looks absolutely gobsmacked. Rhaenyra and Alicent are simply amazed at the beauty of the Dornish woman, neither of them had seen many Dornish people, but they did not seem anything like what people describe. Daemon watched the woman and then looks to Valaena with a raised brow, his sister shrugs with a smile. Ysilla raises, her arms go back to her chest as she takes three tiny steps back. Her actions seem of good intent, backing away to open the other girls to view, but she is really doing it because the stench of entitlement is too strong.

"Elena of Essos," A dazzling smile meets them as they look to the next girl. She is very attractive, her features are soft and youthful, yet beautifully hypnotic and pleasing. Her dark hair falls in loose deep waves down her shoulders and over her chest. Her eyes are so dark they almost look black, only adding to her hypnotic aura. The bright sky blue dress she wears blows in the wind, forcing the sheer fabric to bring her figure out even more. Over her shoulder is an animal pelt, a fox, or perhaps a coyote.

"Your majesties." Elena says with a deep curtsy that leaves her cleavage exposed more than before. Ever the dutiful wife, Aemma says nothing as she watches her husband watch the seductress. Even Otto doesn't find himself immune to her siren eyes, pouty lips, and perky body. Valaena's lip curls in disgust as she watches the King and his Hand fawn like little boys. For some reason, her amethyst eyes move over to Daemon, wanting to see his reaction.

The outcome she receives is not what she expected, for Daemon is already looking at her. His brows scrunched inward as his eyes dart to the two men and then back to his sister. She smiles at her brother, happy to know they are still as connected as they had been years ago. The secret conversations the Prince and Princess would have with only their eyes and expressions was something many would never quite understand.

"And this sweet little thing is Ariel Hozier, my ward." Valaena says, her voice getting airy and soft again as she wraps her arms around the girls shoulders. Her brown hair is braided back into one large braid. She wears a brown and blue dress, with a fur lined cloak tied around her shoulders. Her bright grey eyes look at the two new dragons, new to her at least, she had not stopped looking at them since they arrived. They were so different from Vaerax, Baenys, and Daegon.

Princess Valaena's elder familial members look at her in shock, their eyes wide or mouths parted slight. Otto is not surprised that Valaena has taken in a stray, by the looks of it many strays. The little girl's hands take ahold of Valaena's arms, she pulls them closer to her body and face, trying to hide her from the many watchful eyes. Aemma gives a small wave, her fingers wiggle, and she smiles brightly. Ariel does smile back, small and shy, before turning to hide her face in Valaena's stomach.

"Over there is Ser Ryllo Oshi." The elder Princess continues her introductions by pointing to the man who drove the wheelhouse. He stands behind the group of women, off to the right side of them. The man only had a stripe of hair a few inches wide, the rest of his head is shaved completely bald. The black stripe is tied back and tucked away under the hood. The black trousers he wears are baggy and had several pockets and holsters around them. Unlike the rest of his group, who currently wears boots, this man wears flat shoes that cover his whole foot and tie at the ankle.

He looks rough to the pampered nobles. Scars and imperfections litter his face and the sides of his head. His hands have dents and missing skin where deep gashes healed, but the flesh never grew back. His fingers are dirty and bent from breaking and never healing right. No weapons can be seen on the man, but that does not mean he has none. He lowers his hood and bows his head respectfully before raising his hood again. He steps back, his eyes moving all over, looking and observing.

"And what does, Ryllo do?" The King asks with an uneasy smile. His eyes look to the man that had somehow found his way into Valaena's company. Viserys would never admit it aloud, but knowing his sister had gotten mixed in with the likes of someone like Ryllo worried him. It was as if his sister could immediately pick up on his judgement. She releases Ariel and guides her over to Ellya before she begins walking towards her brother.

"Whatever is needed of him, after all he is a man of many talents." The Princess says, her hands folded in front of her stomach and a smirk on her face. She raises her brow suggestively as she tilts her head before looking over her shoulder at Ryllo. She winks at him and he smile, only a bit, as he winks back. Otto watches the exchange questioningly, his head turns a few degrees and his eyes move to the side as he looks them up and down.

Something tells Valaena to look towards Daemon and she is glad she does. Her amethyst eyes sparkle with amusement as she watches Daemon stare at Arthur, looking him up and down. She smirks as she looks to Arthur, who is staring right back at Daemon. As she watches them she realizes they both stand very similar, hands on or near their weapons. Their bodies lean back on the weight of one leg, their stances are so nonchalant, that it is easy to never even register the fact that they are prepared for anything.

She begins to makes her way towards Daemon and his new friend. The smirk on her face only widening as she sees her knight looking at her from the sides of his bright multicolored eyes. She comes to a stop in between the two men who completely tower over her. They quite literally look over her head and at each other. Daemon takes in how bright the man's eyes are, as blue as the ocean on a sunny day. As well as his hair that is a mix of blonde and brown, the two colors are peppered together causing them to blend making it look golden and bronzed. Though, the hair of his thick goatee is pure icy blonde and in some area's the hair is so light that it blends in with his porcelain skin.

"And this, is my sworn sword, Ser Arthur Snow." The Princess introduces the man in leather, seemingly saving the best for last. Her attention turns to the newly named man just like everyone else does. One of her hands moves to rest against his arm as she looks up at him. A small smile sits on her lips as she watches Arthur bow his head dramatically.

"A bastard." Otto say with a hearty laugh. His head shakes side to side in pure amusement as he realizes Valaena's little group is way too laughable. All eyes watch as Ser Arthur turns to look at Ser Otto. The northern man tilts his head and squints his eyes as he takes a step forward. His chest brushes against Valaena's arm causing her to drop her hand from his arm. Daemon watches their fingers brush against each other and Rhaenyra watches his chest puff out.

"A pretty damn decent one old man." Lady Alicent watches as her father's face goes red and his chest shakes with the angry breath he releases. The Hand's anger only grows when the bastard smiles smug and proud. Once again Valaena tilts her head up, her eyes blink slowly as she folds her arms and leans against the knight, with her gaze on the Hightower man. Aemma looks to her daughter again, seeing that the young girl's lavender eyes are yet again trained on her uncle.

Rhaenyra soon follows her uncle's gaze and looks at the man he glares at. He is pretty, but not as pretty as Daemon. He is also shorter than her uncle, only by a little. His smile is nice though, his confidence is strong, and he is obviously brave, likely an accomplished warrior. Rhaenyra begins to wonder if this man is her aunt's lover. Their close proximity and Daemon's heated glare leads Rhaenyra to believe that there might be something between the Princess and her Knight.

Her mother and friend are sharing her same thoughts. Though the Queen begins to believe it, because she knows, a woman has her needs. And Valaena is not married, so if she wished to seek a lover there was no betrayals or crimes being committed. The Hightower girl believes the shared thought, because she has heard all about the kind of lady Valaena is and the things she gets in too. Daemon too believed this same thought and even though he is anger at the thought of this man being with his Valaena, the Prince is impressed with her taste.

The King does not think much of the man, he simply wonders where and how these two met, how any of them met. Otto Hightower feels many emotions all at once. Annoyance simply with Valaena, disgust at the man's attitude, anxious about where else this can go and how much worse it may get, curious as to why she came back and what her purpose is. The ladies who came with Valaena cannot help the giggles they let out as they look to Arthur, who has his brows raised and his amused gaze on the King's Hand.

"Rhaenyra, come and meet your aunt." The Queen's voice cut through the air as she wraps her arm around her daughter's shoulder. Ever the peace keeper, the Princess thinks as she looks to her good sister. As Arthur looks to the Queen and Princess, he sees a face that bares a striking resemblance to another young Princess he's met. Valaena lifts herself off of her knight as Aemma guides Rhaenyra over to her aunt.

"Se mōrī nyke ūndan hen ao istan nykeā hāedar clinging naejot zȳhon muña kris." Their mother tongue sounds like the most beautiful melody as it passes her aunt's lips. Rhaenyra is stunned for a moment, being this close to her made it impossible to hate her. She was beautiful, like one of those divine spirits that decorate the holy tapestries from Essos. Her eyes were the color of an amethyst crystal, but they shined brighter than any gem ever could or would. (The last I saw of you was a girl clinging to her mother leg.)

"Nyke līs admit nyke gaomagon daor emagon olvie hen ao naejot pendagon arlī naejot." Rhaenyra has to actively keep her voice steady as she replies back in the language of their ancestors. Rhaenyra had been trying to find any memories she could of her aunt since she realized that's who she was, but so far she cannot think of anything. Well she does remember the time her and her aunt stole sweets from the kitchens before hiding away in the gardens. Valaena had read passages from Septon Barth's forbidden book Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. They had stayed out well into the night, at some point the book laid forgotten, and instead Valaena told Rhaenyra all the stories Daemon had once told her. The next day would be the last Valaena spent in the Red Keep for years. (I must admit I do not have much of you to think back to.)

"īlon līs arlinnon bona." It was a vow more than anything, something they can both agree on wanting. The two of them were never truly given the opportunity to explore a relationship. When Rhaenyra was born Valaena was still fairly young, at only eight summers old, her attention was mostly on chasing after sixteen year old Daemon. As Valaena aged, she found Rhaenyra to be too young to do anything fun or interesting with. By the time Rhaenyra was old enough to hangout around her aunt, Valaena had been sent to Driftmark as the Velaryon ward and then she'd run away. (We must change that.)

"Let us head inside, we may catch up there." Viserys says with a tight smile. He is not sure how he feels about this budding relationship. His sister would be an absolute horrible influence upon his little girl. His wife seemed to have no worries about such things, possibly because she knew Rhaenyra was headstrong and would pick up what she wanted from who she wanted. If anything Rhaenyra would be lucky to have another lady companion close to her age.

"Our cousins were not far behind me." Valaena says after a few seconds of quiet. Her eyes slowly move off of her niece and to her eldest brother. The smile on her face drops as she looks him up and down before looking over her shoulder. Her eyes land on Ryllo, who nods in confirmation that the Velaryon's were close by. From the corners of her eyes she looks to see Daemon, who is looking at her with intensity.

"Rhaenys and the Velaryons, we came in with them, you will have to greet them." Valaena's light brown eyebrows raise as she clarifies what she means for Viserys, who seems annoyingly confused. Such a waste of perfect genetics, she thinks as she sighs and rolls her eyes. She does not attempt to hide the fact that she does not favor this man, the King. Which once again irritates Otto beyond belief.

"Well then fantastic, a wondrous reunion!" Viserys says with a wide smile and a loud clap. That was perfect, he thought, let Laena keep Valaena company. The trouble she would teach that girl could be Rhaenys' problem. After all she loved Valaena so much, let her be their responsibility once more. Viserys' excitement annoys Valaena enough to make her scoff loudly as her arms fold behind her back.

"It will not be much of a reunion." Valaena says as she straightens her back, her eyes move from Viserys' face to Daemon's. She knows which of her brothers will figure it out first, it is a no brainer. The moment understanding registers, there is an immediate switch in Daemon's mood.

"How long? How long were you in Driftmark?" The Rogue Prince pushes passed both Rhaenyra and Ser Snow as he makes his way towards his sister. The Princess of Dragons looks at Arthur, who has one hand on the blade of his ax, bone crusher. He raises a brow and angles his head to the side slightly, asking Valaena a silent question. She shakes her head lightly, the gesture barely seen as she turns to look at the brother she likes.

"Not long." She says shortly as she watches her brother scoff and shake his head in frustration. She knew this side of him was bound to show. Daemon was of short patience and an ill temper, he was quick to blow up in fits of emotions that often resulted in tantrums. If her having ran away wasn't enough to set him off, knowing she had been back within reach with no word, was. Viserys looks between his brother and sister confused before looking at Aemma who gave him a soft and sympathetic look.

"And they did not send word?" The elder of the three asks, his tone is full of disbelief and the confusion on his face has gone nowhere. His younger two siblings do not look away from each other for some time. Behind her back Valaena's hands rest, her thumbs are back to rubbing, and now scratching, at her index fingers. Her gazes stays put on Daemon, it is unwavering and unlike her fingers that stress against each other, her eyes convey a fierce and unyielding strength. She does not take her eyes off of Daemon, only hardening them as she tilts her head back.

"I told them not to, I wished to come on my own terms." She says, slowly dragging her irises off of Daemon, who stands with flared nostrils and eyes that burn with irritation. He takes a step forward as he releases a loud scoff. His sister is quick to throw her hand out, she pushes against his chest with a fraction of her truth strength as she turns to face Viserys. She moves her hand away from Daemon and places it on the back of her hip. Viserys shakes his head slightly as he wonders why they would do that. Why would they not tell anyone, simply because she asked them too? He has no time to question anything the way he wish too, for his sister cuts him off to save them the waste of time.

"If your grace does not mind I would love to settle my things and my household. I'd like to bathe. I have gifts as well, but I must find them." Princess Valaena looks over her shoulder and points towards the way her ship came in. Her brother perks up at the sound of gifts, his mind immediately forgetting everything else. His daughter, who is more like him than it seems, also perks up at the sound of gifts. Daemon continues to look at Valaena unimpressed and irately. Aemma smiles, happy to know that Valaena plans to stay, with them and right where she belongs. The sound of her request leaves an extreme feeling of dread inside Otto's entire being.

A/N: I mess with the timeline a lot in this story so be prepared. I kept a lot of birth years true to canon, but I did change a few. As well as deaths, I definitely played with those dates lol. Like in canon Alyssa dies in 84 AC, for this story she lives 5 more years, meaning Rhaenys doesn't claim Meleys until 90 AC. Laena & Laenor were born in 94 AC, making them 16 at the start of this. Alicent was born in 92 AC instead of 88, making her 18 when this story starts, she is also Rhaenyra's lady in waiting. Gwayne will be the one born in 88 AC, making him a year older than Valaena. Now the kids they all have....yeah that's an explanation for another day lol.

I also want to say I'm a visual thinker so I have a lot of visuals, be prepared lol.

When I described Valaena these are the features I'm thinking of! ^

Vaerax, the cannibal

Baenys, the blood bringer

Daegon, the formidable fire

(All credit goes to the artist, siosin_ on instagram!!

I did mess with the coloring, so you should check out the original works!)

Arthur's long sword ^

I need a name for her, I'm thinking blood singer or widows kiss...

Let me know what you think!

Arthur's ax bone crusher ^

I fear that name is unchangeable....

This chapter is 24k words long.... I am so sorry 😭

~xoxo

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Free to Feel Pain

pairing: Fanon!Daemon Targaryen x Female OC

summary: No one will understand the pain Valaena Targaryen is feeling, except one person, her husband and uncle Daemon Targaryen, the father of her children one whom they lost and mourn.

Word count: 3,0K

Warnings: Loss of a child, curse words, crying, Angst, mentions of boobies, incest

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Valaena did not mind that she was her father's second daughter, she did not mind that her father loved her elder sister more because she had someone else to love her, her uncle Daemon. Every since she was a small child he was there by her side comforting her and teaching her.

Valaena found herself falling for her uncle as time flew by and she grew older and more beautiful. Valaena will never forget the day her uncle found her hiding under her bad when she was merely five name days old, she was crying in pain after some court lady mocked her for not having a dragon. Rhaenyra tried to comfort her sister as much as she could but she was the heir after all and she was needed elsewhere. Daemon noticed the lack of his niece that day when she failed to show to their Valyrian lesson and he set off in search of her. Ever since that day Daemon made sure to make it clear that whoever mentions the fact that Valaena had no dragon anywhere in front of her will be beheaded even against the will of their king and Valaena's father, Viserys.

As Valaena grew it was almost impossible for Daemon to hide his attraction towards his niece. Valaena cried the day his marriage to Lady Rhae was announced fearing his departure however now that was a mere memory after almost ten years of marriage. Valaena was over the moon when her father allowed them to marry in the ways of old Valyria. She designed her dress herself and wore it wit pride and she barely flinched at the touch of the blade.

Daemon adored his niece and that everyone knew so when Valaena fell pregnant merely five moons after their marriage no one was shocked. Daemon's attraction only grew with their child in her belly. Valaena used to sit in the room prepared for their child and read books of old Valyria to her belly. More than once Daemon would catch her in that position. Daemon was there with her when her labours started, he sat behind her supporting her weight when she could not anymore, he was the first person to hold their baby boy after the maester.

Aelor was the name the couple chose for their son. Daemon sat with Valaena for hours in their bed staring at the bundle in her arms created from love. That was when Daemon uttered that word for the first time, he expressed his love for his niece/wife and their son. Valaena cried in relief that her feeling were mutual. The couple cuddled with their son and spent days in that position.

Daemon was so proud of his small family that by the second week of Aelor's birth he sat atop Caraxes with Valaena chained in front of him and Aelor strapped protectively against her body as they flew to king's landing for their son to meet Viserys his grandfather/uncle.

Ever since Valaena has given birth to three more children, Jaenara their second born and first daughter, only two years younger than Aelor. The came their third child Naerys, their second daughter with mismatching eyes like Daemon's mother, she was three years younger than Jaenera. Lastly came Valarr, their second son who was only three moons old.

Valaena was content with her life and enjoyed every second she spent with her family. Daemon enjoyed sitting in front of the fire in their chamber with their children around them as he told them stories of the wars he fought and sometimes stories of his and their mother's youthful days. Jaenera and Naerys enjoyed the latter more while Aelor preferred the war stories.

Much to Valaena's relief Aelor's egg hatched when he was still a babe at four moons old, his dragon was as dark as the night sky yet he was not black, if you look close enough you would see the dark blue in his scales and when he flew under the sun his scales showed the colour proudly, Aelor chose the nam Lyrax for his dragon when he was five years of age and hearing about his cousin, Rhaenyra's dragon.

Jaenera's egg hatched when she was only days old and her dragon was of white colour, it was a beautiful dragon that many envied. He was not only beautiful but rapidly growing, he was bigger than a six years old dragon should look. Jaenera was able to ride him when she reached her fifth name day much to Valaena's horror, that night she cuddled her daughter in her sleep begging her as she slept to never do that ever again until she mastered the art of dragon riding, much to Daemon's amusement and that night he also whispered reassurances in his wife's ear that nothing will happen to their baby girl as long as he lived. Only recently did Jaenera name him Suvion, which meant ice in Valyrian.

Naerys's dragon took her time to hatch when Naerys was two name days old, now she was nowhere near Suvion or Lyrax being only a year old but her beautiful purple scales attracted much attention when she flew alongside Lyrax, Suvion and Caraxes, the four dragons were mostly seen with each other feeling their riders emotions and love for one another. One time Jaenera was mad at Aelor when he accidentally ripped her favourite dress, Suvioin refused to be anywhere near Lyrax for a whole week after that just like Jaenera refused to be anywhere near Aelor for a week.

Valaena and Daemon regret now visiting king's landing after Valarr's birth. Unfortunately during their visit a plague spread throughout the capital, it was called the red plague because it would make it's victims vomit blood the first week of their infection then coughing would follow, the symptoms would become worse each passing day that by the tenth day the victim would not be able to keep a singular bite food in their belly and would die from both starvation and pain.

"Help him, please" Valaena begged the maester watching as her baby boy of only three moons moaned in pain as he wiggled in his cot. He was as pale as a sheet of paper. Daemon wrapped his arm around her waist keeping her close fearing her going anywhere near their infected son, he could not handle losing both of them at the same time.

"We are doing our best princess" The old maester bowed his grey haired head. Valaena wanted to scream and shout with each pained cry her son let from his small body. She wished it was her who has been infected, the plague was merciless and killed young children along adults but it would be less painful if it were her dying not her son. Valarr had so much to live for, his egg still hasn't hatched in his crib and Daemon feared now that it never will.

"Your best is not enough" Valaena surprised even herself for her harsh words, she was never one for such harshness.

Daemon tightened his grip on his wife as she tried to step over to their son. She wanted to comfort him as his little mouth opened as he coughed and a little drop of blood dripped down his chin, he had lost so much weight, the rolls Valaena loved so much were slowly disappearing.

"Come my love" Daemon whispered in her ear as he tried pulling her out of the room. Valaena tried to fight but soon her body betrayed her and she slumped against Daemon's chest with tears streaming down her face. Daemon made her stop feeding their son from her own breast in fear of her catching the plague, neither of them knew where their son had caught the plague from.

"Shhh, my silver haired princess, I've got you" Daemon whispered in her ear holding her weight up for her. Valaena sobbed against his chest feeling weak, she was unable to help her own child, her blood.

"I feel so useless" Daemon confessed to Viserys one day as they sat together in the gardens watching as Jacaerys and Lucaerys tried lighting Jaenera and Naerys's mood while Aelor was letting his frustration out duelling some knight and he was showing talent even at eight name days.

"You are not useless, Daemon. You are no god to prevent plagues" Viserys reassured patting Daemon's shoulder. His words did nothing to comfort the distressed father. A scream broke out from the open window in one of the palace rooms, Daemon will recognise this scream anywhere and anytime, it was Valaena. Daemon wasted no time running back to the castle trusting Viserys and Rhaenyra to care for the rest of his children.

Daemon paused at the doors of Valarr's room where Valaena sat in the middle on her knees hugging a tiny blanket. Valarr was no longer in his cot and there were no maesters in the room anymore, there was only Valaena and her handmaiden, Emilia. Emilia was standing in the corner with a hand covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

No one needed to say what had happened for Daemon to understand what was happening. He shook his head not accepting the reality, he had hoped and prayed for the first time in his life for his son. He kneeled down beside Valaena who had her face buried in the blanket. He touched her back as lightly as he possibly could but her head still snapped up so their eyes could meet.

"H-he was not b-breathing" Valaena whispered. Daemon closed his eyes trying to stop the images of his son's body from flashing in his mind, he had not witnessed it but he mind was cruel enough to plaster an image of his baby boy's body in his cot unmoving wide eyes with blood dripping down his tiny mouth as his eyes starred emotionlessly at the ceiling.

Daemon had no words so he only wrapped an arm around Valaena letting her collapse against his chest screaming for her youngest son. Daemon and Valaena stayed in the room for hours holding each other. For the first time in many many years Daemon shed tears but his them in the croak of Valaena's neck. Eventually he had enough strength to pull her out of the room and into their own and laid her in their bed. He held her throughout the night, neither knew when they fell asleep holding onto each other still crying not wanting to face anyone and the reality of their son's death.

Valaena was the firs tone to wake up with her back to Daemon while he held her close to his chest. She got out of the bed and walked over to the window cursing the baring sun as it shined bright in the sky. Valaena changed her clothes into a black dress feeling like all the colours meant nothing now, there symbols of happiness and she was no longer happy. She wanted to get away from this wretched place. She braided her hair to get it out of her face and left the room leaving Daemon asleep with blood shed eyes.

She sneaked through the secret passaged Daemon once showed her in her teenage years. She stepped out into the forest where she was completely alone. She took a deep breath of the fresh air when the reality crashed down on her for the first time that day and tears streamed down her face again, she hiked up her dress and ran, she wanted to run away from the capital. She ran as if there was a great bear running after her, like The Stranger himself was after her after he had taken her baby boy from her.

Daemon woke up feeling annoyed with the sun shinning on him. He reached over to Valaena's side to find it empty. His heart dropped to his stomach and he sat up wide eyed searching for her in the room but there was no evidence of her anywhere. Daemon pushed the blanket off his body, his bare feet padded down on the stone floor as he ran out of the room. His guard followed after him without question. Daemon ran into Valarr's room and found on maids cleaning it, then he ran to his other children's room and found all three in their beds asleep still.

"Where is the princess?" Daemon asked finally. His guard had no answer and looked down in shame. Daemon felt fear creep into him, what if she has done something to herself? What if she was hurt? What ifs ran through his mind as the whole castle woke up to his screams demanding them find his wife. He could not lose her too, Valarr was more than enough.

Valaena stopped running when she reached a clearing in the middle of the forest, she had no idea where she was or how far from the castle she was. Her chest heaved as she fell to her knees. her hands hurst as they fell on stones on the floor. Her head was hung low as sobs left her lips. She felt like her heart was being ripped out of her, she blamed herself for not protecting her baby. she blamed herself for suggesting they visit her father. She blamed herself for the pain she was causing Daemon and her children.

The sound of flapping wings did not disturb her nor the sound of a large body landing a couple of yards away from her. She was too deep into her screams and pain to realise. Something nudged her head making her look up and through her blurry vision she saw the huge head of a dragon she recognised form images in the books. She gasped in shock and fear falling back onto her back and looked up at the dragon, Vermithor did not back away from her and kept staring down at her, he let out a huff nudging her knee. Valaena felt compelled as she raised her hand slowly not even thinking of the consequences if the dragon decided to make her a meal. She let out a small gasp at the feeling for Vermithor's scales under her hand. The big dragon pushed against her hand lightly.

Daemon watched as Aelor held Jaenera and Naerys as they cried wanting their mother. He was going crazy and his only comfort right now was Rhaenyra as she took lead in ordering the guards around to her sister's favourite locations around the keep. Daemon looked out at the sky watching as Caraxes flew around anxiously feeling his rider's emotions however Viserys forbade Daemon from leaving the castle in fear of the plague which made Daemon want to rip his brother in half and right now he was thinking of a way to escape and search for his love on his own.

"Shhh, we will find her soon" Rhaenyra picked up Naerys who was only three name days old and held her as she cried. She herself was very worried and was trying to remember anything about her sister that could help with the search.

Valaena picked herself up and moved around the dragon, he pushed his shoulder down giving her leverage to climb up and onto his back. Valaena whispered lightly in Valyrion for him to obey and her answer was only a huff of air. She leaned forward and held his scales having to saddle or chains to hold her to him. She whispered one singular word, fly. Vermithor obeyed and pushed off the ground making it shake and some trees fell over from the force as he took to the sky.

Valaena would trade having a dragon of her own for her son's life but it seems the gods were cruel to do the opposite and gave her her desire of a dragon only after her son's death.

Daemon's jaw slacked as he watched Vermithor land on a hill not far away, it was where the funeral of his son was to take place in a couple of hours. His eyes did not leave the figure atop the beast, her silver hair in a braid behind her back. He walked carefully over to the hill eyes not leaving the huge beast as he leaned his head down. Daemon kneeled down beside the beast showing his respect. The rest of the family joined the couple wide eyed and shocked, Aemond Targaryen however watched in hope that one day he himself would get a dragon of his own just like his older sister.

Valaena descended down from the great beast and over to her husband. She was not ashamed as tears ran down her eyes whens he caught a glimpse of her son's tiny corpse ready to be burned to ashes. She placed a hand on Daemon's cheek which he closed his eyes to enjoy. He rose up from his position and towered over her which she never was intimidated by and never will be.

"I am proud of you, wife" Daemond whispered for only her ears to hear. she gave him a watery smile. The two walked over to where their children stood beside Rhaenyra, their aunt and cousins. Valaena refused to meet anyone's gaze except those of her dragon.

"Dracarys" She said steadily knowing this has to be done. Vermithor wailed feeling his rider's pain before blowing his fire on the small corpse. Daemon held Valaena to his chest as they watched the fire eat their child away. Valaena will never forgive herself and neither will Daemon, as they stood their they each blamed themselves for the death of their baby boy. Neither wanted to admit it just yet but they both would blame themselves for the rest of eternity.

Valaena took Naerys from Rhaenyra and held her close feeling fear consume her for the rest of her children. Aelor and Jaenera hugged their parents around the waist as the family said their final goodbyes to their son/brother in silence.

[motherodysseus]

Ptolemaea - Chapter 1

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Original Stark Female Character (Alysanne Stark)

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual innuendo, length of text (lol)

Summary: Lady Alys remains behind as her brother rallies support from the lords of the North. On her nameday, a tourney for her hand ensues, one she intends to win. But danger is around every corner. Will she survive long enough to unite with her Velaryon cousins?

Author's note: Sorry this took so long. Turns out, editing your own work is liable to engender insanity!!! This one is a bit of doozy in length (I swear, I cut plenty), but hey, there was a lot to set up! Could I have split it into two chapters? Maybe. But where's the fun in that!? Besides, we have a Rogue Prince to meet. I hope you enjoy, and, as always, your comments, thoughts and feedback are most welcome!

“My lady, we must hurry. Your Uncle will be cross if he finds you’ve been away too long. We were only supposed to take a ride, after all.”

Alys rolls her eyes. Mikken Reed is a kind boy, if not a bit irksome. House Stark’s newest ward, the future heir of Greywater Watch is young, only having nine summers on him, and tiny yet; he does not even clear her chest. This has not deterred the boy from latching onto her skirts, thinking himself her gallant knight and protector. Alys is quite capable of protecting herself, but she is happy to indulge him. Usually. Here in her meadow, however, the real world and all its accompanying burdens have no place. This makes his reminder most unwelcome. 

Found in the heart of the Wolfswood, the glade is dotted with wildflowers and the occasional oak and rowan tree. A brook cuts through like a vein, water trickling over the stones and strewn branches from trees long since fallen and rotted away. The sweet perfume of honeysuckles and primroses, and the dew that coats them each morn, are Alys’s favorite scent, second only to the winter rose.

Alys was but eight summers when she discovered this place, after running away from her lessons with Muña. At the time, she had no interest in learning to sew, or to dance, or to play the harp, or to manage a household. She’d much prefer to be in the training yard with her brother – a place she was barred from, on the unfortunate account of her being a girl. 

Alys was never one to care for rules, especially ones that made little sense. While the boys would practice at swordplay with Vayon Cassel, master-at-arms, she would sneak into the armory to fetch a bow, and teach herself how to shoot. Each time she was caught, she would be brought before her father. She’d beg and plead with him, but the yard was no place for a lady, he said, sending her from his solar back along to her mother, with red knuckles and a sore heart.

Indignant and embittered, Alys decided to prove herself.  She stole a bow and quiver full of arrows, had Nan the cook make her a picnic, saddled her pony Wynafryd – a beautiful black courser gifted to her by her Uncle Corlys – and galloped straight out of the safety of the Keep’s walls. 

Once she found this place, she built a shelter from fallen branches she found along the forest line, weaved a crown of wildflowers and named herself Queen of the Wolfswood. She held a coronation feast for one, gorging herself on the treats Nan provided. 

It took her parents a night and day to find her. When the Lord and Lady Stark finally laid eyes upon their wayward daughter, they were shocked to find the little kingdom she had created. 

“There is no denying it, my lord husband,” Valaena said, dropping down from her horse and scooping Alys into her arms, hugging her close as she brushed brambles from her dress. “Your daughter has the wolf’s blood in her. Or perhaps this is not our daughter at all; rather, some little fae creature we have on her hands. Tell me, riñitsos, are you a changeling or mine own daughter?”

“I’m no changeling, Muña. I am your daughter, the Queen of the Wolfswood! See?” Alys asked, pointing to her crown, slightly wilted and askew, tangled in her mass of dark curls from a night spent abed the soft grass. Valaena laughed again, peppering her face with kisses.

Rickon dismounted so that he could join his wife and daughter in a much-needed embrace; the search having frayed his nerves. “Aye, that you are, Your Grace. But a Queen cannot simply disappear without informing her loyal subjects.” Alys scrunched her face, turning from her father to hide in the crook of her mother’s neck.

Rickon brushed the back of her head softly, reaching in between mother and daughter to cup her cheeks and bring her eyes back to his. “You had your mother and I worried sick, Alysanne. You must swear to me never to run off like this again.” 

Alys’s lips quivered, but she did not back down. “I will swear it, but only if you swear you will allow me to train, Papa. Else, I shall be forced to make my home out here, and you shan’t look upon me again.”

Rickon locked eyes with Valaena over Alys’s head. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You drive a hard bargain, little wolf. After you serve your punishment, I’ll see what I can do.”

Alys, true to her word, served her punishment without complaint. She swore a full commitment to her lessons with both mother and Maester, and suffered through two moon turns without riding or sweets, nor playing with Holly, her closest companion. Not that Holly was interested, for she was quite cross that Alys would dare to run off without bringing her along. Nothing could mend the rift until Alys agreed to make a blood oath, swearing to never again adventure without her. The scar is still visible on her palm, and it is one she cherishes. By sharing blood, they were made sisters. Alys, though she loved her brothers dearly, had always wanted a sister.  

Her father, true to his own word, allowed her to train – though she never was welcome in the training yard. He would make time each week to take Alys and Holly out to the meadow. He taught them how to carve their own bows and string them, and trained the two how to shoot himself. When their skills surpassed his own knowledge, he sent for an archery instructor from across the Narrow Sea, swearing him to secrecy so the girls could continue to learn.

Shaking herself from her reveries, she looks back to the boy. “Oh, a pox on my uncle, Mikken! And what have I told you? You need not call me ‘my lady’ or ‘Lady Alys’ outside the Keep. Here, I am simply Alys.” She turns to face her fiery-haired friend. “Now, Holly, what say you? One more round of roving marks?”

“I say the little lord makes a point. No time left for all that – let’s aim once more for the target and then make our way back to the Keep.”

“Fine,” Alys huffs. “First one to hit the center gets their pick of dessert from the kitchens?”

“Challenge accepted, your Ladyship,” she says, leaning in with an exaggerated bow.

Holly herself never much cared for the pageantry of lords and titles, preferring to poke fun whenever she could. They are not her way, for she was born North-of-the-Wall to a wildling mother. When Holly’s mother was put to the sword, the Lady Valaena protected the girl, insisting she join her daughter’s household. Holly never forgot the kindness, even if she often forgot herself in the face of nobility and their “silly Southern customs.” 

Bennard thought Holly a bad influence, attempting to separate them when he took over the regency of Winterfell. But the Lady Valaena stood firm. “Woe be to any man who would tear apart sisters,” she said, “whether they be borne or made.”  

Bastard, thinks Alys, Should he ever try to take her from me, I’ll show him what a Lady is truly made of.

The girls nock their arrows, aiming for the mounds. “Mikken, count us down,” Alys insists.

“But, my lady, we will get in trouble if– ”

“‘Tis not an invitation to argue, Mikken! And what did I say about titles? Now, if you would please count us down.” 

“Yes, my lady – I mean, Lady Alys. I mean, Alys!” Mikken squeaks, as his hands twist the reins of their horses. Poor lad. I am too harsh. It is not fair to unleash my nerves upon him. 

“Loose your arrows on one! Three, two…”

Alys takes a breath, and eye falling shut as she narrows on the target. 

“One!” Mikken shouts. Alys has already released her quiver, as has Holly; neither girl is above a bit of treachery when they compete against the other. Their arrows whistle through the air. Alys squints, holding a hand over her brow to shield herself from the sun’s glare, attempting to follow their trajectory. She loses sight for but a moment, until she hears the telltale thwap-thwap. 

“I cannot tell from here, it’s too far to see clear, and the arrows too close to call a winner,” Holly says. “Should we send your little squire to check?”

Alys considers it, but the sun is nearing its midpoint; they are cutting it close. “Nay, I think he has suffered enough this morn. Let us make our way back. You may choose the dessert; I care not.”

“You care not because you know Nan is already preparing all your favorite sweets,” Holly says, bumping her shoulder. “Oh to be a Stark girl on her name day!” She declares, twirling about in some mockery of a dance, pulling Alys along with her. 

“Almost name day!” Alys says, giggling as she joins in. She turns and twirls with head upturned to the sun, following the tune of the brook behind her and the magpies overhead. There is a bite in the air, despite the fact that it is the twentieth day of the sixth moon of the year. Under the warmth of the sun, however, she can close her eyes and pretend that summer will last forever. Or, for a little while longer, at least. 

As she steadies, reality finally forces itself upon this once inviolable space. Her stomach twists, mood blackening instantly. If all does not go to plan, this could be my final name day as the ‘Stark girl.’ Steeling herself, Alys puts on a smile, giving Holly a little shove as she makes her way back to the tree line. 

She approaches Mikken. Up close, she can mark the strain her words put upon him in his creased brow and his slim shoulders that now rest firmly next to his ears.

She bends down to meet him. “Mikken, I owe you an apology for the way I spoke. It was unbecoming and cruel; I’m sorry for it. I know that you were only trying to look out for me.” 

His bottom lip juts out, eyes fixed firmly on his boots. Alys places a hand to his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “You know, it takes a brave man to stand up to those in power when he knows they are in the wrong. You will make a fine knight one day, and an even better Lord. It is an honor I do not take lightly, to watch you grow into both.”

“Do you truly mean it?” he whispers.

“I am not in the habit of saying things I do not mean, Mikken,” Alys whispers back conspiratorially. At this, he cracks a smile. “There he is,” Alys says, knocking his chin so that she can see his eyes. “Now, what say you to a little race back to Hunter’s Gate? Whoever makes it through first, can have the first bite of sweets. I heard a rumor that there will be apple tarts and stewed plums.”

Mikken brightens at this, and rushes to untie the horses. 

“You are good with him, Alys. Your mother would be proud,” says Holly, who has snuck up to her side. Gods, she’s silent as a wraith when she wants to be.

“Thank you for saying so. Though, I wonder if she would be proud of the spectacle I shall be forced to make of myself tomorrow,” she muses, turning back toward the clearing. 

Holly grabs her hand, the scars upon their palms brought together. It is a gesture of comfort, and she relishes in it. She knows me better than I know myself, as all sisters do.  “Aye Alys, she would be proud, and you know it. These are nerves talking, not reason.” 

“Perhaps,” is all Alys could muster. 

Holly studies her closely, but decides not to push. A first. She takes Alys’s bow from her, and goes to hide it in the brush alongside her own. Task complete, she turns back to her friend. “Come, if you think I shall let you win this race because you’ve decided to mope, you’re sorely mistaken.”

This jab is enough to make Alys smile. “Pray tell, Holly – when have you ever let me win?”

Holly ponders for a moment. “I’m certain there was a time or two, but I can’t recall them just now. Now, will you mount or will you give me a head start?” she asks, as she takes her palfrey’s reins from Mikken. 

“Take it, Holly, for you shall need it anyhow!” Alys crows. Holly laughs as she mounts her horse, whom she named – Gods, of all things –  Squirrel. Alys did attempt to reason with her, pointing out the absurdity of such a name, but Holly would not be moved. “'Tis is a funny name for him, but it fits. Squirrels are quick and agile. Is he not those things, too?”

Alys takes one last look upon her meadow. She cannot help but feel that today is an ending of sorts. She sighs, turning to Mikken. He hands her riding gloves over. Newly made for her, they are black as night, as is the rest of her new wardrobe. It may be her name day tomorrow, but she is still deep in mourning. 

Mikken is bursting with energy. He bounces on the balls of his feet, anxious to join the race. It is his eagerness that deals a final blow to Alys’s melancholy. “Come, I’ll help you mount.” 

She approaches Wynafryd, now as tall as any Lord’s war horse. Folding her hands together, she bends down to give him a boost. He scrambles into the saddle as Alys places a foot in the stirrup, launching herself behind him. She bundles Mikken tightly to her front, reaching around him for the reins. 

“Are you settled, Mikken? We have ground to make up, it seems.”

“Aye, Lady Alys! Make haste!”

She chuckles. My, is he not an imperious little lordling when competition is afoot. She gives Wynafryd a gentle kick, and clucks at her. “Onward, girl!” They race through the wood, Mikken whooping all the way. 

As soon as Hunter’s Gate comes into view, Alys spots Holly. That hair could be seen miles away, kissed by fire as it is. She leans in, forcing Mikken to do the same. “Come on, girl!” she shouts as she nudges the horse into a gallop, pushing her full tilt towards the gate. 

It is not long before they overtake her, barreling through the gate a few yards before she does. Really, it is not fair, even with the extra weight. Squirrel may be quick but he is no match for Wynafryd, in size or speed. Mikken’s cheer is contagious. Alys’s cheeks hurt from grinning, flushed as they are from activity. She slows Wynafryd to a trot, making her way past the kennels and kitchen, around the Library Tower, and toward the stables. 

She leads her horse into the paddock, as the stable boys rush in to aid her dismount. She passes Mikken down first, before swinging her leg over and leaping to the ground. Holly and Squirrel enter the paddock soon after.

“It was a close race, Alys. One of these days, Squirrel will overtake Wynafryd, I’m certain of it.”

“Aye, and the pigs will sprout wings and take off in flight,” Alys snorts.

Mikken interrupts them. “May we go to the kitchens now, Lady Alys?” 

Alys rolls her eyes, but her smile does not abate. “Aye, Mikken, we may. Run along ahead, and tell Nan I’ve sent you. You were first through the gate, which means the first sweet is yours.” The boy does not need to be told twice; quick as a rabbit, he runs back toward the kitchens. 

“It seems you’ve had an eventful morning, my lady.” Alys turns to see Maester Lymon leaning against the paddock fence, green eyes twinkling. A genial old man, Lymon is like another father to her. He is a grounding presence in her life, always encouraging her learning and supporting her throughout any trial. The Citadel may not allow women into their ranks, but her Maester does not share their qualms about the fairer sex. 

“That I have, Maester. How did you know I was gone?”

His tone is firm, but his eyes remain warm. “I didn’t, that is until I saw you flying through the gate from my solar; like a bat from the seven hells, no less.” 

Alys pulls her gloves from her hands, and makes her way to him. “I had no choice – Mikken would have been aggrieved if we had not won the race. Apple tarts were on the line, so he cannot be blamed for it.” 

Lymon laughs. “No, I suppose he can’t. You, however, can. We still have much to discuss ahead of our guests’ arrival. I’ve come to escort you to the Library so that we may talk logistics. Perhaps the boy will be kind enough to save you some sweets for when we are finished?”

“I think it unlikely,” she grumbles. My respite is at its end, it seems. “Holly, go on ahead to the kitchens without me. And do try to ensure Mikken does not take advantage of Nan’s good nature to eat his weight in sweets – Vayon will be cross with me if I’ve slowed down his newest recruit.”

“Aye, I can try, but I’ll make no promise of it,” Holly says, handing Squirrel’s reins to the stable boy and making a quick escape. She doesn't mind the Maester, but she was never one for lessons. “I’ll learn by doing, not by reading,” she said once, never returning to be taught thereafter. 

Alys and Lymon walk in an amiable silence as she takes in the din of the grounds. Nearing noon, Winterfell is alive with activity, its inhabitants bustling about in preparation for their incoming guests. The stable boys are bucking hay, and burly men roll barrels of ale toward the Great Hall. Maids flitter about, bringing fresh linens and candles to the Guest House, gossiping all the way.

It is Lymon who breaks their silence. “I’ll not ask where you were, my lady, but may I make the rather safe assumption that you were preparing for tomorrow’s contest?” 

“Aye, you may,” she concedes.

“And did you consider the risks, should you have been caught?”

“Aye, I did.” She pauses, before continuing in a hushed tone. “I found the necessity outweighed the risks. Besides, Bennard has been quite occupied these last few days, preparing to welcome my future husband, ‘whomever he may be,” she scoffs. “As if we are all unaware of his preference.”

Lymon hums in agreement. “We shall speak more on it in the Library.” Alys nods– it would not do to have one of Bennard’s lickspittles overhear. He banned her several summers ago from training, after all. If he were to be made aware of my rebellion, especially before the contest; well, it simply would not do. 

The pair climb the steps outside the tower. She allows Lymon to go first so that she may keep an eye on him. Now reaching an age where stairs become a struggle, he takes them slowly, grumbling as his bones creak. I worry for him. If I manage to succeed tomorrow, it would be best to take our lessons in the Maester’s Turret, or mayhaps the Glass Gardens; the warmth would be better on his joints. 

They arrive at the top, entering into the cavernous space which holds a thousand and one tomes, covering every inch of the rounded walls. She runs her fingers over the weathered spines, inhaling deep. The smell of leather, old parchment and dust soothes her. 

The Maester also shares her love of this place, if not for the sheer delight in the library’s collection, then for the privacy it provides. No one enters this tower but the two of them. Bennard and his degenerate sons are far from learned, having preferred the training yard as most Northern second sons – and sons of second sons –  seem to. It is one of the only places within Winterfell in which they may speak freely.

Lymon does not beat around the brush. “‘Tis a dangerous game you play, my lady. I worry for you. With your brother not yet returned from Last Hearth, there is no one here who may protect you, should you fail.”

“Come now, Maester – have you such little faith in your favorite pupil?” she asks, attempting a jape. It falls flat. Lymon grunts as he sits at the table, chains clinking. He motions her to join him before unfurling a parchment that holds a map of the North. He reaches into the wide sleeves of his robe, pulling out game pieces. Nay, not game pieces – they are direwolves. 

“Let us review again, Lady Alys. We’ve secured allegiances for your brother’s cause from Houses Reed, Karstark, Manderly, Mormont, the Flint’s of Widow’s Watch, Hornwood, Cerwyn and Forrester,” he states, positioning a direwolf piece over each of the respective holdfasts. “I think we can assume he will succeed with House Umber, for they have always answered the call.” He places a direwolf over Last Hearth before moving back to his sleeve, this time pulling from them not direwolves, but sheep.

“But that leaves several houses in Bennard’s camp,” he says as he scatters the sheep across the map, “the strongest and most dangerous being House Bolton. Should Lord Bolton’s son Mervyn succeed in the tournament tomorrow, it would not be a shock if your Uncle were to force you to marry him that very night, to ensure their allegiance to his cause.”

Alys huffs. “First – it is simply inconceivable that I would marry a man named Mervyn. Besides, Mervyn will not succeed. I am sure he is fine with a bow, but I am better. Second – the other houses attending who are sworn to us would not stand for it.” Her voice is confident, but the direction of this conversation is beginning to unnerve her.

“‘The houses will not have a choice in the matter,” Lymon hisses. “Your brother took his most loyal men with him to ‘settle disputes amongst the great houses.’ Bennard is not stupid, he knows that Cregan is rallying support. Without the men, or your brother to lead them, they will not interfere. You also risk insulting those who have sworn fealty, should you beat their sons in this contest. The lords are loyal, but they are also prideful. If they take offense, Bennard will fan the flames.”

Alys rubs her hands down her face, groaning. “That is unfair! It is not as if I asked for any of this!” She regrets the childish words, for they incense the Maester instantly. 

“You did ask for this, Alys! You did!” His palm slams against the table, several pieces tumbling.

“Maester –”

“No, do not deny it! I know your hand was forced, Alys. To attempt to announce an unagreed-upon betrothal at your lady mother’s funeral was, is, a travesty. But you stood up in front of Gods and men at that feast, and offered your hand to whichever lord could best you on the archery field. Rather than practice logic, as I have taught, or patience, as your lady mother taught, you reacted with your emotions. You asked for this.”

Tears prick her eyes. How is it that a proper scolding can make me feel as if I am not but a tall child? Lymon is not one to raise his voice, and it pains her to have aggrieved him so. It also pains her that he is right. 

“I apologize, my lady,” he mutters. “I did not mean to shout.”

Alys waves him off. “‘Twas not undeserved.” 

She twists her mother’s signet ring, staring at the carving of her entwined sigils. I cannot tell if this grounds me, or if it upsets me. I wish she were here with me, she would know what to do. “So what you are telling me is in either scenario – win or lose – we still lose. Do I have that correct?”

“Yes, that’s the long and short of it,” Lymon sighs. 

Alys swallows. “Well, fuck.” 

The curse shocks them both, for Alys seldom uses profanity. Lymon snorts, and the sound alone is enough to send her into a fit of giggles. They tumble together headlong into hysterics. As soon as one wrests control back over their senses, they make eye contact and the fit begins anew. It only ends when they are firmly out of breath, sides pinching and tears streaming. 

“Is there not a chance that they might be impressed by me?” Alys asks, wiping her eyes and righting herself. “For winning back mine own hand, which was already supposed to be mine by rights?” In truth, she knows the answer, but is desperate enough to ask.

“I suppose a small one,” Lymon considers. “Several houses have, or have had, ladies lead them. And most still recognize your father’s word as, if not law, then bond. But – whether we agree with them or not – most still see a lady’s place as in the home. Wedded, producing heirs,  keeping house; not besting boys in the art of war. Or, one of the arts, at least. We will have to count ourselves lucky if they perceive it as a rebellion against your uncle –”

“Which it is,” she counters.

“Yes, but it is as likely, if not more so, that they will take offense. We can’t presume that they will see it for what it truly is: a disavowal of Bennard’s unlawful hold on Winterfell,” he concludes.

Frustrated, Alys drops her head into her hands, fingers tugging at her hair. She wishes to growl, to scream, to rip at her hair or slam her fists on the table. To do anything to act upon her feelings. Instead, she takes a deep breath, then another, working to calm the tumult of her emotions. Perhaps one more breath would do. 

She sets her hands back on the table, folding them together to keep from fidgeting. “Is there any other option?” she asks. “Any possibility of getting through this unscathed?” And unwed?

“There is one. You will not like it,” says the Maester, lips drawn thin. 

“Tell me.”

“You run. No, do not interrupt,” he insists before Alys can speak. “I know you have been in near constant contact with the Lady Laena and your Aunt, the Princess Rhaenys, since your mother’s passing. I am the one who sends your letters, after all. I took it upon myself to send my own raven to your Uncle, Lord Corlys, making him aware of your plight – something you neglected to share with him, or any of them, it would seem.” 

Aye, because until this moment, I assumed that I had this in hand. Arrogant, mayhaps, but it is the truth. Lymon must find her silence encouraging, for he pushes on.

“He and the Princess Rhaenys have agreed to take you in as their ward. It is not customary, I know, but they are one of the most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms; soon to be made more so with the wedding of Laenor to the Princess of Dragonstone. They will have the security of the Crown behind them, and they can protect you until Cregan secures his seat. You would also be in a position to advocate for aid, if not from the Crown, then from your uncles. Docking the Velaryon fleet at White Harbor would be a show of force, and discourage the lords that back Bennard against a coup.”

Alys takes in Lymon’s counsel. My Maester has been hard at work, it seems. It is a clever, nay, brilliant plan. But it is an unacceptable one.

Alys sighs. “If I abandon my house, and my brother, what message does that send? And, should I run, what is to stop Bennard from closing the gates to us? A few hundred men can hold Winterfell, even if ten thousand set upon its gates. Winter is Coming; all he’ll need to do is wait us out.” 

She looks upon the signet once more, brushing a finger over the seahorse. “As tempting as it is to call upon the Velaryons, to ask for interference from a Southern house – kin or no – feels tantamount to admitting Creg cannot hold the North. This would bolster Bennard’s claim that he is unfit, unready. My brother would not allow it, nor can I.”

“All fair rebuttals, my lady,” Lymon shifts forward in his seat, looking Alys straight on. “But, so caught up in his efforts to seize power, Bennard has not properly prepared this Keep for Winter – no stocking of grain, nor movement made to repair Winter Town for the inevitable influx of smallfolk. And the Night’s Watch continues to send disturbing reports that your Uncle has all but ignored. Wildlings are attempting to cross The Wall in droves. Those that succeed have been raiding villages in their push southward. They’re desperate, enough so to claim to have seen the Others, not that those wives' tales stop them from losing their heads.” 

A chill courses down Alys’s spine. The Others are ghost stories meant to scare little children; a mere allegory for the coming of Winter itself. In any event, they have been gone for thousands of years, if they existed at all. ‘Tis a monstrous excuse to use to rape and pillage defenseless villages. But what if there is more to it? There may be no White Walkers, but it is possible the wildlings are running from, not toward, something. I shall have to ask Holly. 

Lymon’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. “There is a chance, a high one I should think, that the vassals and smallfolk would turn on him. But to allow yourself to remain here is to risk not only your future, but your very life. If Bennard grows reckless, he will use you as a weapon against your brother. He has always seen you as a tool. And what is a weapon but a tool used to maim; to kill?”

Alys sucks in a breath – this cannot be happening. This is my home. This is my family’s home. And am I to leave as it is torn asunder? Am I to abandon my brother, my kin, my people when they need me most?  Her mind is made up. 

“And what if I am a weapon, Maester? After all, a knife cuts both ways.”

“Alys, I beseech you–”

Alys holds her hand up, halting his speech. “Maester, I am grateful for your counsel; even more so for the care you have shown me. But I will not leave my home and people to be picked over by carrions who call themselves wolves. I have made my bed, and I mean to lie in it. I will write to my Aunt and Uncle to thank them for their hospitality, but to inform them that it is unnecessary. For I am a Stark; I belong to the North.”

Lymon slumps in his seat. “As you say. But I urge you, do not hasten to send that raven. Wait until the tourney ends, at least.” 

Alys nods as she rises from her seat. “I should go. I must prepare for the welcome feast, and Bennard expects me to greet my suitors.” 

“Tread carefully, my lady,” says Lymon as she reaches the door. The double meaning is not lost on Alys. She quickly exits, turning the conversation over in her mind as she picks her way down the stone steps. Unsettled and disquieted as she is, she allows herself to be led by instinct. Rather than turn toward the Great Keep as she ought, her feet move forward, straight into the Godswood. 

Alys sighs; it is as if a stone has been shed from her shoulders. In the forest, she is as free as a snow shrike, alive and unfettered; but it is here in the Godswood where she finds true peace. 

The three acre grove is as old as the land itself. It smells of damp earth and pine, with only the sound of crunching needles underfoot and the caw of ravens for company. She walks deeper, trees rising and tangling around her as she makes her way through.

Her feet stop as they alight upon their chosen destination – the Heart Tree. The world quietens here, for this is where the Old Gods keep house. Its weeping eyes are ever watchful. Carved into the snow white bark by the Children of the Forest eons ago, many have sworn to feel them follow. This never unsettled Alys – those eyes make her feel seen, held, safe. 

Alys keeps the Old Gods, just as every Stark has. Nameless and faceless, they are found in the twisting of roots, the bends of streams and sturdiness of stones; in the eyes of the Heart Tree, too. 

Still in her riding leathers, the chill of the afternoon cuts through easily, but she scarcely feels it. Dropping to the grove’s floor, she makes her home where she always does — curling in between the roots of the tree, hand gripping the root. She closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the tree as she listens to the wind moving through its branches, blood-red leaves rustling as they reach for the heavens. 

Time suspends itself as she begins to pray. She prays for her brother’s swift and safe journey home. For Holly and Mikken, for her Maester. For her Mother, Father, and brother since passed. For the health and safety of the Northern folk. For an easy Winter. For herself.

Once her prayers are complete, her mind drifts. She is so tired – tired of fighting, tired of fearing, tired of feeling too big to be small and too small to be big. She is simply tired. Her body seems to agree, for her eyes droop, and consciousness slips away. 

She dreams, though it feels as real as breathing. In her dreams, she is a wolf. She runs through the forest on unsteady legs, as if she were but a pup. She dashes about, sniffing and climbing and bounding through to a clearing. It is her meadow; she recognizes it instantly. She turns just as another pup tackles her, nipping and wrestling and rolling in the grass. They frolic and play until a howl cuts through the Wolfswood.

Alys awakens with a jolt, disoriented. Something has hit her shin. No, not something, someone. Her cousin Benjen stares down upon her, eyes beady and black. His hair is greased back with animal fat, and he is dressed in such finery, it is as if he were a Lord’s heir himself. I suppose he and Bennard like to think so.

He knocks her shin with his boot once more. “Get up. You’re late. Again.” 

She rolls her eyes. “How can I be late to mine own feast, Benjen?” He curses at this. Alys should know better than to bait him, but cannot help herself. “Now cousin, is this how you speak to a lady?”

He kicks her again, harder this time. “I see no lady, just an insolent brat. One who is finally getting what is coming to her. It’ll be a relief to be rid of you,” he sneers.

“So sure of yourself. Fortunately, so am I,” she fibs. He doesn’t need to know I’m out of my wits with nerves. “I’ll succeed, my brother will return, and you will be back to doing whatever it is the first son of a second son does. Shoveling horse dung, I assume.” 

Alys moves to stand — too slowly, for Benjen grabs her by the elbow, squeezing tight as he lifts her. She knows immediately it will bruise, and stifles a whimper. Her cousin has always been a cruel, violent sort. As a child, he would bludgeon animals for sport; kicking cats, strangulating squirrels, beating dogs. Nothing was beneath him. The maester would often chase him from the rookery, for he would try to break a raven’s wings for no discernible reason other than to relish in their agony. Now a man grown, he’s moved from animals to men. And women, it seems. Creg’s absence emboldens him.

“You think so, cousin? You know, Father doesn’t pay close enough attention to you. ‘What time do I have for some halfbreed girl?,’ he says, ‘She is pretty, and she has our name. 'Tis all that matters.’”  

This particular revelation does not surprise Alys. Bennard has never been above othering her or her mother for their Valyrian heritage.

“Father thinks you dotty, yes, but dutiful,” Benjen continues. “A silly little girl whose own father gave her too much freedom. He thinks he curbed that, and that you will go quietly to your marriage bed, even with the stunt you pulled. But I know better, Alys. I watch you running off with your little wildling to the woods, and whispering in corners with your Maester. You are dangerous, as are all girls who do not know their place. But soon, your husband will teach you. ’Tis a shame I am not part Valyrian; perhaps I’d have the honor of breaking you.”

Alys’s stomach drops. She attempts to extricate herself from his grasp, but his grip tightens as he pulls her in. Her nose crinkles as his hot, rancid breath covers her face.

“You know, I’ve spoken to Mervyn of your proclivity for impertinence. He assures me that the Boltons have a particular method for dealing with untamed wives.” He leans closer, whispering into her ear. “Considering the rumors of their continued predilection for flaying men alive, I can imagine it’s quite painful. Do you think he’d let me watch?” 

Alys cannot seem to speak, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. How dare he speak like this in front of the Gods. She remembers the Maester’s scolding. Logic, patience – I must practice them.

“You and Mervyn seem quite confident in his ability with the bow,” she says, forcing her tone into one of casual indifference. “But I hear Lord Manderly’s sons are truly gifted. If the ravens are to be believed, I could be the next Lady of White Castle.” Alys does not know if this is true; it likely isn’t. She doesn’t even know the boys’ names, let alone if they have any skill with the bow. But it’s enough to get what she needs from Benjen.

“Aye, but Mervyn has the distinct advantage of training with the best archery master in the North. You may recall him; he was sent from Winterfell some years ago now, for conspiring to train you in secret.” 

Benjen must see her blanch, for he begins to cackle. “Come along, cousin. You must make yourself pretty for your husband.” He shoves her forward as they make their way to the Great Keep. 

Alys remains in a daze as she prepares for the feast. At once, she is bathed and dressed in a gown of black. It is made of velvet and soft as sin, with trumpet sleeves and a square neck trimmed with ermine and silver brocade. A direwolf belt is swung low around her hip. When she looks upon herself, all she can see is Muña’s lilac eyes boring into her. It is a haunting sight. I look as if I am attending another funeral rite; in a way, I may be. 

Holly attempts to engage her in idle conversation while she plaits her hair, but it is no use. Alys twists her signet and stares off. She thinks more on her dream, wishing it were as real as it felt; how she longs to be as free as that pup. 

So overcome, she does not notice Holly’s look of concern. “You do look lovely, Alys.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles. The girls lock eyes in the mirror, and Holly turns her from the vanity, taking her hands in hers. 

“I wish you would tell me what is troubling you so. Is it the Maester? I’ve told you, too much thinking addles the mind.” Alys lets out a huff, and Holly smiles. “Tell me, what has you all worked up?”

She tells Holly everything — from the Maester’s concern and push to send her to her cousins in the south, to Benjen’s cruel behavior and the information he let slip. Holly listens intently as she unburdens herself. 

“Aye, I can see now why you’re so troubled. This is quite the dung pile we’ve found ourselves in.”

“That I’ve found myself in, Holly.”

She holds up her scarred palm. “Thought you’d learn by now that we’re a package, you and I. Now, let’s talk it through, shall we?” Holly moves to the bed, patting beside her, encouraging Alys to join. “I think the Velaryons are a good fallback. If your mother could sail herself away from the south to Winterfell to marry your father, can we not go the other way? If it comes to that tomorrow, we'll leave.”

“I don’t know if we can, Holly. I’m needed here. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell; certain, Bennard does not count. I just – I don’t see how we can leave our home.” Alys’s lip quivers.

“If Bennard, his shite-for-brains sons — I’ll kill Benjen, by the way, and use his bones to pick my teeth — and his shite-for-brains Bolton cronies have their way, Winterfell won’t be home any longer,” Holly says, grabbing her hand. “You don’t belong at the Dreadfort, Alys. You have to think of yourself for once; what use are you dead or hidden away in some rotten Keep? And speaking on the Boltons, so what if he’s been training? So what if he’s good? You’ll be better.” Holly rubs her thumb over Alys’s knuckle to soothe her, just as Muña used to. It serves its purpose— Alys lets out a watery sign and hugs her friend close. 

“Thank you,” she breathes as Holly rubs her back. 

“Don’t thank me. I’m only telling you what you already know; you just got caught in your nerves again. Now, we should get to the feast,” Holly rises, and Alys moves to join her. 

“Oh!” she exclaims. “ I forgot — Cregan left you a gift for your name day. He told me not to let you open it until the day of, but he’s not here, is he? It’s under your bed. Do with that information what you will.” Holly smiles beatifically, as she always does when causing trouble.

“Will you give me a moment then? I have a present to unwrap,” Alys grins. Holly nods, and closes the door behind her. 

She drops flat to the carpet, with no thought or care for her dress, rummaging under her bed. Not once does she think to wait, for she hates surprises. Creg should never have trusted Holly to keep a secret from me, anyhow. 

Her hand alights upon a box, and she slowly pulls it from its hiding place. It's large, and carved from rowan wood, with her House’s sigil burnt into the grain. 

Alys gets up and places the box upon her bed. There is a note attached; one she is tempted to bypass entirely in her eagerness to open her present. Patience is a virtue, I suppose. She sighs, plucking the note from its ribbon. She cracks her brother’s seal to see his scrawl, short and sweet. 

Father told me I’d know when you were ready. Shoot straight. 

Your brother, 

Creg

She sucks in a breath. Father told me I’d know when you were ready. Hands quaking, she opens the box.

Inside is the most wonderful sight she’s ever seen – a beautiful bow and quiver set, made to size. The bow itself is bone white, carved from weirwood; Alys would recognize it anywhere. The arrows are carved from the same, with its feathers a startling crimson, akin to the leaves of the Heart Tree. But it is the arrowheads that truly dazzle, for they are not of any metal she has encountered. In truth, she only recognizes it from her lessons, for they are dragonbone. So sharp, they would draw blood at just a touch. She picks up the bow, testing the string's tension, the weight of it, how it feels in her hand. It’s perfect, it's perfect, it’s perfect. 

She does not know how her father came into possession of such a treasure. Dragonbone is not an easy material to come by, nor an inexpensive one. And to have a perfectly carved weirwood bow – it is an honor he’d entrusted her with it. He believed in her, as did her brother; her mother, too. They may not be with her, but they are behind her, as they always have been. She does not know whether to laugh or cry. For the first time in an age, she feels hope; not just hope, but a sense of surety. Holding the faith of her family in her hands, Alys knows now what she must do, and how she can win.

She attends the feast, light as air. Nothing can spoil her good humor – not Benjen’s leer, nor her uncle’s very presence, which often serves to put her off her appetite. In truth, she is ravenous, nearly inhaling her roast pheasant and potatoes. 

Soon, the minstrels begin to play. Alys takes care to dance with each Lord’s son. Lord Manderly’s boys, Jonnel and Joseth, prove exceptional dancers, even if they’re impossible to tell apart. She takes Mikken for a spin on the floor, much to the delight of everyone present. She even allows Mervyn a dance; when his hand moves too low to be proper, she steps on his feet with particular verve. Here’s hoping it cripples him, but I would settle for a lost nail.

When she retakes her seat at the head table, dessert is being served. There are apple tarts and stewed plums as promised; even the rare lemon cakes make the rounds. Once full, she sits back and watches the hall. Many of these men are allies and competitors in one; some are outright enemies. It matters not to Alys. She smiles at them all – for she is a wolf, and she does not fear sheep.

“It seems you have made some peace with your lot, niece,” Bennard slurs. A drunkard and a fool, may the Others take him. 

“I was always at peace with my lot, Uncle,” Alys sniffs. “It was ensuring that I marry a man worthy of me that put me on edge over the prospect.” 

“Well, you have a peculiar way of choosing that man. Not that you should be choosing at all, but your father will get his way, as he always does,” Bennard glowers as he sinks deeper into his cups. “Archery, pah! I know you think yourself a savant because Rickon indulged you as a child, but you will learn the truth of it tomorrow. The Boltons are a powerful family, and you will be lucky to join their house when Mervyn proves himself.” 

Alys bites her tongue, once again remembering Lymon’s counsel. “As you say, Uncle.”

“As you say, Uncle,” Bennard mocks. “Do not be impertinent, especially in the face of my generosity. This feast and tourney cost me a pretty copper, as will your dowry. You ought to be grateful.” 

Her blood boils, but she tamps it. Best to let it fester so that I may use it on the field tomorrow. 

“Of course, Uncle. I am ever so grateful,” she says through her teeth.

Bennard hums again, too drunk to notice her ire. “Good. Now, to bed. You must look fresh-faced for your husband tomorrow. Men like their women pretty, after all. They also like them demure. I suppose I shall leave it to your husband to teach you the latter, if it’s not a lost cause already,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Begone from my sight, Alysanne.” 

Alys squeezes her fists, nails cutting into her palms. Yet, she arises gracefully as her mother taught. She bids her Uncle and cousins a good night, though she does not mean it. Benjen runs his tongue over his teeth, like a bloodhound who caught the scent. Ignoring him, she beckons to Holly, and they leave the Great Hall. 

She helps her undress in silence, untying her stays while Alys works at her plaits. With mere hours left until dawn, she knows she will sleep little. Holly offers to stay with her, but, as it might be her last night abed alone, she declines. I should enjoy the space while I am able. They bid one another good night, and Alys buries herself under the covers. 

She tosses and turns for what feels like an age, until sleep finally claims her. Again, she dreams she is the wolf. She is warm, safe, cuddled against fur. She turns her head, to see the same grey pup that had tackled her, now fast asleep. Perhaps the mother is on the hunt. She gets up, stretching her tiny limbs, and makes her way from the den, dirt soft under her paws. She looks up at the moon, and howls. 

As dawn breaks, Alys arises from her bed. Despite the chill, the rooms remain warm. Not for the first time is she thankful for the ingenuity of Bran the Builder. Piping water from the hot springs into the stones for certain has saved me a toe or two. 

She dresses slowly in her leathers, somehow managing the stays herself. She then places her mother’s signet upon her smallest finger, and her archer’s ring upon her thumb. Once finished, she sits at her window, watching the sun rise.

Holly and the maids enter not long after, bringing tea and food to break fast. Alys forces down some bacon and bread, despite her scant appetite. She watches in the mirror as Holly tames her hair into an intricate five strand plait.

“Do you like it?” Holly asks.

“More than like it,” Alys says, marveling at her handiwork. “It almost looks as if it is a chain.” 

“Aye, that was the aim. For you will not break this day, I know it in my heart.” Alys warms at her steadfastness and faith, sending a prayer of thanks to the Gods for bringing Holly into her life.

They sit in silence for a time, and she lets Holly inspect her new bow. “It is impossible to fail with a bow as nice as this. You can feel the love that was poured into its making, and yet there is something deadly in it. It will protect you, I think.” 

“I think the same,” Alys says. Too soon, there is a knock upon the door, and she begins to shake. “You may enter.” 

It is Mikken, and for this kindness she is thankful. Better than my cousin, that is for certain. “Lady Alys, it is time,” he says. 

Alys takes a deep breath, and tries to calm her trembling hands. “So it is. Mikken, will you stay with Holly and me? I could use a lad like you to keep an eye on my back.”

Mikken sputters. “I would be honored, Lady Alys, but perhaps someone bigger would be best?”

“No, sweet boy, you misunderstand. I want someone whom I trust to stand with me, and that’s you. Consider it part of your training if you must, but in truth, I would just appreciate you there as my friend.”

She watches the blush creep up his cheeks. “I’d be honored, my lady!” 

“Good, now, let us make haste. I would not put it past Bennard to start without me in an attempt to void my participation.” She takes her bow from Holly and straps the quiver to her back. Stealing one last look in the mirror, she’s pleased to find she cuts an unearthly and imposing figure. Let these men shiver when they see me. 

Flanked by Holly, Mikken and several guards – sent by Bennard no doubt, to ensure I do not run – they march from the First Keep and through to the North Gate, outside which an archery field is constructed. At least a dozen mounds are set in a line. Alys breaks into a grin. Mere target practice. Not roving marks, nor splitting the wand. Bennard underestimated me. Good. 

The archers check their names upon the roster, and Alys does the same. The Maester was right, many of the most noble houses of the North have sent a son to participate. She sends up another prayer before making her way to her designated marker. Mervyn is to her left, and a Manderly – Jonnel? Or is it Joseth? – to her right. And the line goes down, faces blending. 

She walks the paces, gauging the distance between marker and target. She crouches down, and picks up grass and leaves, crumbling them to see which direction the wind blows. She heads back to her marker as she stretches her arms, ignoring the eyes upon her. Finally, the trumpets sound.

“Esteemed lords, ladies and guests! Thank you for your attendance on this day; the day my beloved niece turns seven and ten!” Bennard shouts from his spot on the dais. He has made himself and his sons little thrones to sit upon, above all the other lords and vassals. Alys rolls her eyes. They look foolish. 

“The Lady Alysanne is now a woman grown, and it is time for her to choose her bridegroom. And so she has; the one who succeeds her in this tourney shall be the lucky man! Not too hard of a task for such strapping Northern men, I should think.” A cheer rises from the crowd, and she can feel the eyes of all the archer’s boring into her. Let them think they have me. “Now, at the crier’s call, let our tourney begin!” 

Alys nocks her arrow, breathing deep as she closes her left eye to aim at the target’s eye. The first arrows loose at the crier’s call. She hits near dead center. It must be the nerves. She sneaks a peek at her competitors – only a few have come as close as she has.

One by one, round after round, the men are eliminated. The crowd, who had once cheered for her future husband, now turn their love to their Lady, becoming more raucous as each arrow is loosed. Alys does not dare to look upon her Uncle. She can feel his ire well enough, and does not need the distraction. 

Finally, the last Manderly boy – Jonnel, if the crier is to be believed –  is eliminated. “You are a worthy opponent, my lady. I am undeserving of the honor of your hand,” he says, placing a kiss upon her knuckle. She smiles and thanks the man before he makes his way back to his brother. 

Only her and Mervyn remain at the butts.

“He may be undeserving of your hand, Lady Alys, but I certainly am more than up to the task,” he scoffs. “I shall even give you my sword as well, as many times as you ask for it and more.” Her rage is set aflame by his words, hotter than dragonfire – so hot, it burns cold. I am going to enjoy this.

The crier calls for them to nock once more. Inhale as you pull, exhale as you release, easy as breathing. She hears him shout loose, so she does. The arrows whistle through the air, and she knows before it  lands it will be dead center. She looks over at Mervyn’s target, and his is centered. But not like mine. They send a judge – Lord Mormont, by the looks of it – out to check. Another – Lord Ryswell  – joins him. The crowd hushes as they deliberate. Coming to an accord, they summon the crier.

“The Lady Alysanne Stark is our winner!” the crier shouts, and the crowd is insensate. They stomp and cheer and cry for Alys, so loud she can scarce hear herself think. She turns to Mervyn, whose mouth is agape.

“It seems your sword is unworthy of my sheath, Bolton,” she quips over the din. “I wish you and your future lady wife luck; Gods know she’ll need it!” She laughs as Holly and Mikken barrel into her, bundling her in an embrace as they jump up and down. 

She looks over their heads – the lords and their sons are shocked, but do not seem angered by the result. Relief begins to set in, until she hears a commotion coming from the dais.

“No, no, no! This is not how this was supposed to go!” Bennard yells as he stomps toward her, mouth foaming. He rips her from Holly and Mikken’s grasp. “You little ingrate! Worthless fucking trollop!” 

Before she can react, she hears a crack as her head whips violently. Blood pools on her tongue, tainting her mouth with the taste of copper. He’s hit me. Gods, he’s truly hit me. 

The crowd is silent as he grabs her plait, twisting painfully. “You disgust me, you halfbreed whore. Your flagrant disrespect is at an end. I command you to marry the Bolton boy this very night. I don’t care if I have to hold you at sword point to see it done!” His spittle flies in her face. 

“Everyone knows that marriage will not be valid in the eyes of Gods and men, as no marriage under threat of the sword is,” she says, voice projecting loud enough for the crowd to hear. “I’ve won, Uncle, fair and true; this contest is at its end. A Lord would take it gracefully, but you are no lord. The real lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North rides from Last Hearth, to take his rightful place on the Winter Throne. I’m certain he will be fair when he metes out the King’s justice.” She smiles menacingly as blood coats her teeth. 

He shrieks as he throws her to the ground, kicking her once, twice, thrice in the gut. She coughs, curling into herself in agony. The crowd, regaining its senses, hisses and jeers. The hair-raising sound is enough to pull Bennard from his rage. He turns back to find the Lords in the North looking upon him with disgust, and a crowd so enraged they are near riot. 

“Guards! Take the Lady Alysanne to her rooms and bar the door. If she is to act a child, she will be treated like one.” The guards hesitate. “Now!” Bennard shouts. The crowd grows restless as the guards grab her under her arms and drag her back to the keep. She’s begun to grow faint, so she does not hear what Bennard says to try to appease them. Whatever it is, she hopes he fails.

Once she is unceremoniously thrown into her rooms, she begins to laugh. It hurts, terribly, but she cannot help it. Her wretch of an uncle proved as foolish as she always thought. Perhaps the Lords would have been upset at her winning, if they had not been made indignant at her ill treatment. Their beloved Lord Rickon's only daughter, beaten by her uncle in front of Gods and men. And the crowd, filled with small folk and all manners of vassals, loathe him. Now, they all see him for what he truly is. A usurper cunt.  

She forces herself up, and gingerly makes her way to her bed. She does not bother with the door, knowing that it will be locked, with guards posted outside it. She does not know what has happened to her bow, and can only pray that Holly or Mikken managed to save it from her Uncle’s wrath. 

Consciousness begins to ebb and flow – like the tide. I should have taken the Maester at his word and fled to High Tide. She swears she hears Lymon attempt to gain access to her, but cannot tell if she is dreaming. If it happened in truth, he is clearly denied. Perhaps Bennard means to starve me, or hopes I bleed out internally.  She goes back under, and comes to when it is long since dark. 

She winces as she attempts to rise. Her ribs and stomach are especially sore, so movement must be made carefully. Once standing, she creeps to her window to look out at the moon. By its placement, she guesses it's the hour of the owl.

Suddenly, she hears a quiet scuffle at her door. She panics, searching for anything in her room that can be used as a weapon. She pockets a letter opener and grabs an iron candlestick for good measure. 

Alys braces herself as she hears the lock click. The door opens; all she discerns are shadows and black cloaks. She raises the candlestick, preparing to fight to the death. Then, a hood drops, revealing long, fire kissed hair. She crumbles in relief, and Holly catches her before she hits the floor. 

“By the gods, Alys! What did you mean to do with this thing, and in your state?” Holly asks, pointing to the candlestick. 

“Hit you with it,” she wheezes, “though I’ll admit, I am not in the best fighting shape. Had hoped I’d get a second wind, but alas.” 

Holly shakes her head, busying herself with cataloging all her injuries. Alys looks over her sister’s shoulder, trying to decipher just how she took down the guards. It seems she did not succeed by herself. Mikken holds open the door as the two Manderly brothers pull the unconscious guards inside. Nan the cook steps gingerly over them, basket in hand, with Vayon Cassel and his son Rodwell taking position at the door, which Mikken quietly closes behind him. 

“What is this? I don’t understand,” she says. “Where is Maester Lymon?”

“They locked him in his turret, but not before he gave us marching orders,” Holly says. “We’re getting you out, tonight. First to White Harbor, then on a ship to High Tide. Your Aunt and Uncle have been informed of your arrival. Seems the Maester had a contingency plan.”

“He tends to have several,” she quips, wincing. Holly rolls her eyes, before turning back to the Manderlys. “Ribs bruised, not broken. Severe bruising on the abdomen, but doesn’t seem fatal. It’ll be painful, but we’ve got to go by horseback.”

“Aye, I’ll go prepare them now,” says – Joseth? – before making a quick exit. 

“Holly, how do we know we can trust them?” she asks. 

The remaining Manderly brother kneels before her on the floor. “My lady, my house is loyal to the one true Lord of Winterfell, your brother Cregan. We owe everything we are, our lives and our very home, to House Stark. Beyond house ties, I am here of my own accord. I would pledge my life and loyalty to you, my lady, if you will have me. Allow me, as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, to swear fealty to you, so you know me to be loyal and true.”

Alys is overwhelmed by the gesture. “Your kindness and loyalty are noted, Ser, but I cannot accept. Your father would be most aggrieved to lose a son and heir in service to a Lady.”

“I am but the second son, my lady. My brother Joseth is the heir, with another brother who can play spare until he takes a wife and begets a son.” 

Flabbergasted, all Alys can think is: Oh, so this is Jonnel. “Are you certain, Ser?”

“More than anything. Will you permit me?” he asks, reaching for her hand. She acquiesces. 

“I, Jonnel of House Manderly, offer my services to the Lady Alysanne of House Stark. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.” 

Alys swallows, overcome by the earnest show of devotion. I shall cherish his loyalty always. For he is my sworn shield, and I protect what’s mine. 

“I, the Lady Alysanne of House Stark, vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise, Ser Jonnnel.” He beams at her for but a moment, before acting upon his vows. 

“We must move quickly, my lady,” Jonnel says. “Your cousins have been locked in their rooms, and your Uncle drugged with milk of the poppy. Enough to put him to sleep for a few hours, but no more.”

“And the lords of the North? What of them?” she asks, watching as Holly quickly packs the necessities.

“The lords have seen all they needed to this day; enough to look the other way at your leaving,” says Jonnel. “The vassals, too, are in an uproar. Your brother can expect their support. Aye, your Uncle will not have an easy time of it once he awakes.”

Alys attempts a smile, bruised cheek smarting. “Good. That’s good. What of the guards?”

“Since tonight’s feast was canceled, the Maester thought it smart to have me send the remaining barrels to them directly," says Nan, speaking up from her place in the corner. "I happened to agree – good autumn ale like that shouldn’t be wasted. Outside of these lads, most are too drunk to stand. Though I suppose they’re not standing, neither.” 

Alys, with help from Jonnel, walks to her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Thank you, sweet Nan. I will not forget this kindness.” 

“You are our Lady. No matter where you go, Winterfell is always with you,” the cook says, wiping a tear from Alys’s eye. “Now, I’ve packed provisions. Should be enough for the journey there. But you all need to move now, there’s not much darkness left.” 

Mikken steps in front of the door, distraught. “I’m coming, too, for I promised to protect you first! I know I failed, but I won’t again, I swear it!”

Alys's eyes water. “You did not fail me, Mikken. You could never,” she says, gentling the boy. “But I have a new task for you. I need you to protect Nan and the Maester until Cregan or I return. They’ll need you more than I will, and I can trust no one else but you.”

The boy begins to cry, and rushes to hug her. She tries not to flinch, not wanting to hurt the boy further. “I don’t want you to leave,” he hiccoughs.

Alys stiffens her lip, hugging him back. “I do not want to leave you either, sweetling, but I must. We’ll be reunited soon, you’ll see. Can you be brave for me until then?” She feels him nod. “Good lad.” 

He wipes his eyes, and moves to Nan’s side. Alys turns to them one last time, offering a parting wave before Holly bundles her in a black cloak and Jonnel hurries them from her rooms. Vayon and Rodwell fall into step behind them. Quiet as ghosts in the crypt, they move through the Keep. They reach the stables with no interference, where Joseth and a stable boy have their mounts prepared. 

Jonnel lifts Alys into Wynafryd’s saddle. Holly grabs a bow and quiver, one set of two, from the saddle bag – my bow, Gods be praised. She passes the bow to her before strapping the set she nicked from the armory to her back. The rest of the group races to mount their horses. If anyone spots them from Brandon’s Tower, they raise no alarms. 

Alys looks up at the Maester’s Turret. It is dark, so she is unable to discern any movement through the window. She gives a wave anyway, hoping that Lymon can see. She pours her gratitude, and her grief, into the gesture. He knows, he must.

In a flash, they are out the East Gate and barreling into the hills outside. Avoiding the Kingsroad and camping will make the journey safe, but long. With her injuries, it will be many days until they reach the White Knife, and more yet before entering the safety of White Harbor. 

Alys ignores her pain as best she can, making it a few hours before it becomes unbearable. As dawn starts to crest, they stop to set up camp. They share some bread and mead amongst them before Alys must rest her eyes. Jonnel offers to take first watch, and the others are happy to oblige.

In a trice, Alys is jostled awake. “Quietly, my lady,” Jonnel whispers. “There is something in the tree line. Prepare yourself.” She moves stand. As Jonnel unsheathes his steel, she moves to grab her bow. Body laid low, she does not even know if she has the strength to nock an arrow, but the weight is a comfort in her hand. 

The leaves rustle further, putting everyone on high alert. Finally, they break, out of which come two of the largest wolf pups she has ever seen.They are fighting; no, they are wrestling. One grey, one black, they playful pair are clearly siblings. Alys sucks in a breath. 

“They are direwolf pups,” Vayon whispers under his breath. “The sigil of your house, my lady.”

“Impossible,” Rodwell says. “Direwolves haven’t been seen south of the wall in at least a century.”

Until now. Alys quietly moves forward, so as not to startle them. She hears a chorus of “Be careful, my lady,” and “Alys, stop.” Shushing them, she squats low, holding open her palm. The wolf pups stop, and cock their heads. The grey one is more leery, preferring to watch, but the black comes right up to her hand, nudging it before rolling over to expose her belly. 

“Hello, my girl. Have you been waiting for me?” Alys coos. The wolf pup’s orange eyes cut through her. I dreamt you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. She rubs her pup’s belly, watching her tongue lob as she smiles.

Alys turns back toward her companions, ignoring their shock. “Joseth, Vayon, search the wood for any sign of the mother. Based on the feel of this one, it has been some time since she ate. I assume the mother is dead, but we must be sure.” Joseth and Vayon nod, and make their way into the tree line. “Holly, check to see if Nan packed some milk for the first night’s journey. If she hasn’t, we’ll stop at the next town. They look nearly weaned, but it's best to be safe.” 

“Alys, you can’t mean to keep them!” she hisses.

“Holly is right, my lady,” says Jonnel. "A direwolf is no pet. Even a pup can tear a man’s arm clean from his shoulder.”

“I do not mean to keep them, Ser. I only mean to keep the one. Rodwell,” Alys says, turning toward the lad, “come closer so that you make the grey pup more familiar with your scent. When your father returns, you both will take it toward Last Hearth. You should meet my brother along the way. Present it to him, for it is his by right.”

“Alys!” Holly exclaims. 

“I dreamt them, Holly,” Alys says firmly, tone brokering no argument. “They are the sigil of our house. They are meant to be ours; mine and Creg’s.”

“You dreamt them?” she whispers. Alys nods. Though perturbed, Holly complies. 

Alys picks up her pup, who burrows into the embrace. She grabs some meat from the provisions, and gives her a bite before gently laying down to rest. She trusts Jonnel and Holly to ensure her orders are followed.

Her pup curls up against her on her mat. She smiles, petting her back. “You’ll be called Frenya,” she whispers as the direwolf snuggles in closer. “We will always protect each other, you and I. Always.”

Alys shuts her eyes. When she dreams, this time it is not of wolves, but of the sea. 

[withfireandbl00d]

Queen Visenya Targaryen was the older sister and wife of King Aegon I Targaryen, the first Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Her younger sister, Rhaenys, was married to Aegon as well. Visenya was a dragonrider, and rode the dragon Vhagar.

Appearance and Character :

Like her siblings, Visenya possessed the classical Valyrian features: long silver-gold hair, which she often braided or bound up in rings, and purple eyes. Hers was a harsher, more austere beauty than her sister, Rhaenys. A voluptuous, sensual, and passionate woman, Visenya was also stern, serious, and unforgiving. Some claimed that Visenya dabbled in dark sorceries and played with poisons.

Visenya was both a dragonrider and a warrior, comfortable in both silk and in ringmail. When garbed as a warrior, she always wielded the Valyrian steel long sword Dark Sister.

Quotes by Visenya :

"Your guards are slow and lazy."

—Visenya to Aegon I Targaryen after cutting his cheek to prove a point

"You are a fool and a weakling, nephew. Do you think any man would ever have dared speak so to your father? You have a dragon. Use him. Fly to Oldtown and make this Starry Sept another Harrenhal. Or give me leave, and let me roast this pious fool for you."

—Visenya to Aenys I Targaryen

"A true king, blood of Aegon the Conqueror, who was my brother, my husband, and my love. If any man questions my son's right to the Iron Throne, let him prove his claim with his body."

—Visenya to the Warrior's Sons

Titles :

Lady of Dragonstone

Queen

Dowager Queen

Allegiance : House Targaryen

Race : Valyrian

Culture : Crownlands

Born : 29 BC in Dragonstone

Died : 44 AC in Dragonstone

Buried : 44 AC at Dragonstone

Father : Lord Aerion Targaryen

Mother : Lady Valaena Velaryon

Spouse : King Aegon I Targaryen

Issue : Maegor I Targaryen

Books :

The World of Ice & Fire (mentioned)

Fire & Blood (mentioned)

The Rise of the Dragon (mentioned)

The Sons of the Dragon (mentioned)

The Princess and the Queen (mentioned)

A Game of Thrones (mentioned)

A Clash of Kings (mentioned)

A Storm of Swords (mentioned)

A Feast for Crows (mentioned)

A Dance with Dragons (mentioned)

Fancast(s) : Katheryn Winnick

[kat-is-confused]

Valaena Velaryon (Jacela Child #3)

Valaena was a short and stout girl, with her mother's dark complexion and the Valyrian silver-blonde hair. Her most prized possession is a ring gifted to her by her great-grandmother the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. She was a kind-hearted and smart child, and had a surprisingly sharp wit. She was a true child of the sea and alongside her mother, joined her great-grandsire Lord Corlys ''The Sea Snake'' on his last Voyage when she was 10, however they were forced to return when Lord Corlys' health began to fail him. She grew into a very diplomatic, if direct young women. Valaena spent the majority of her youth on Dragonstone with her parents and siblings. She enjoyed it much more then her sister Vaella and would often join her mother on dragon rides. She grew up not very close to her brother Viserion, although the two had been betrothed since birth. However she grew very close to her younger brother's Baelor and Aerion, and the three were inseparable for their younger years. In 143 AC Valaena and her family attended a tourney to in King's Landing to celebrate a ten years of peace. The tourney was a long and dramatic event. Eventually a hedge knight, by the name of Bane took victory, he crowned Valaena as his Queen of Love and Beauty, causing much teasing from her brother's. Bane was granted a place at the Red Keep and many began to rumour that Valaena and him had fallen in love with him, as she spent her last two summer's there before her wedding. Valaena had been betrothed to her brother Viserion since they were both young, however in 145 AC this was all turned on it's head when her sister Vaella took the vows of a septa, breaking her betrothal with Rickon Stark. After this Valaena was sent up North to wed the Stark heir, who she disliked openly. The two spent little time together as husband and wife, with Rickon often drinking, hunting and bedding other women, while Valaena took a more active role in running Winterfell. In 150 AC Valaena would give birth to a son, Harrion Stark who's paternity came into question given the lack of spark in his parents marriage. In 152 AC he would be joined by a little sister, Lyarra, who the rumours also circled about. In 156 AC their father would die of a hunting accident, making little Harrion his grandfather Lord Cregan's heir. Valaena never re-married and instead dedicated the rest of her life to preparing her son to rule the North. In 161 AC Lord Cregan died and the eleven-year-old boy became Lord of Winterfell. Valaena would serve as his regent for four years before passing alongside many other court members from the Shiver's in 165 AC, the same disease that supposedly killed her sister a year later.

[imaginarianisms]

laena iii (laenyra) velaryon. / asoiaf. / cis woman / bisexual. / human; black/summer islander & valyrian; biracial (allegedly) / 19-early 20's (default). / libra sun. / arsema thomas. / neutral good. / original character; headcanon based. / #33a1b4. / primary. canon (asoiaf) & modern verses available. born the eldest daughter of shaera velaryon the defacto matriarch of the family & daeron velaryon (& allegedly, according to rumor, the bastard daughter of prince rhaegar targaryen), laena, named after her ancestor, laena i velaryon, was groomed from the day she could walk as her mother's protegee, alongside her twin brother corlys iii. she is her mother & by extension house velaryon's eyes & ears in king's landing as her mother, her twin brother & her two younger sisters daella & jacaera cross the narrow sea swearing allegiance to daenerys targaryen. acerbic, charismatic, kindhearted, flirtatious, unconcerned with the rules of polite society, formidable & intimidating whenever necessary, laena is considered to be one of the most beautiful women of her time, one of the most eligible bachelorettes of her age & at court & fights for those far less fortunate than her. called laenyra as an alternative. with her sharp wits, watchful eyes & her wardrobe that would make most ladies at court gasp in awe & envy, laena becomes one of the most terrifying women in any room she enters, she makes fast friends with sansa stark then margaery tyrell at court when house tyrell arrives at the capital. wherever lady laenyra goes, the seastorm goes with her, dressed in diamonds, pearls & seashells, there are rumors that she worships a lyseni goddess of love & war & practices witchcraft passed down & inherited from her ancestor the queenmother valaena velaryon, mother of king aegon i targaryen & his sisters. trigger warning for generic asoiaf related themes. heavily affiliated with @velcryons's corlys iii velaryon, her twin brother, shaera velaryon her lady mother, her cousin aurane waters & overall house velaryon.

[thesashawick]

Chapter 1. The Lord of the Tides part 1

 

VALAENA I

126 AC

The Red Keep, King’s Landing.

Royal Nursery. Maegor’s Holdfast.

 

 

DAY ONE.

 

 

 

 

The song had a quality to it that had her remembering the timbre of Clario; as boisterous as was deep. The voice of a jubilant man, one that despite the odds had been victorious of countless battles that sought to bring him down. It reminded her of the late eventides and early morns spent together, enclosed in her chambers; of the mirthful yet serious demeanour that would grace the clear-as-water eyes of the man when they trained. Of the soft and firm touches that he gifted her, the touch of a father that she would have never received from King Viserys. The memory left a bittersweet taste in her mouth as it faded into the far corners of her mind. It was a beautiful song, there was no doubt in Valaena’s mind.

The mellow and maternal voice of her Queen Mother, it surrounded her like a warm hug in a cold night after a bad dream. A loan of the memory from a place that never was.

Her conscientious ears captured the sound as clear as if she was inside the children’s nursery. A placid rise of the corner of her lips, a pale imitation of a smile, but one that expressed all the joy blooming inside her like a flower in spring, making itself present at the sound of childish giggles coming from inside the nursery. She recognized her niece and nephew, the little two-headed dragon that they were, and her son and daughter, their little laughs irregular due to movement. A world where she wouldn’t recognize them does not exist, she thinks, a far-away look in her eyes. Nor would a world where she isn’t her Queen Mother’s daughter, or her sibling’s sister or her husband’s wife. A memory of a distant childhood that never quite existed resurfaced from the depth of her mind; one of insecure footing and facades that crumbled the very moment anyone looked away. She willed it to be gone from her awareness, focusing in the sweet melody that came out of her beloved Queen Mother’s mouth. It would be uncouth to lose herself in these low-bred thoughts, when they brought nothing but disarray to her life. It would do her well to remember that.

Happiness was an emotion that the children have known intimately since the moment they were born. Nothing at all like her own childhood where happiness and security were scarce as warmth in the North, or food in a siege. Yet she persisted, as did her siblings. All the work they put towards their aim had been worth it. And the children were the living proof of it. If not for them, and for the encouragement of their Queen Mother and Ser Criston, Valaena doubted of their success.   

The song came to an end just as she began to lose herself inside her mind, the storm brewing in the skies of her inside world receded with the last word pronounced and intoned by her Queen Mother. She took a moment to gather herself, banishing all thought’s but those of great importance from the front of a great list of matters of consequence, least of all she presented herself before her Queen Mother as lowly educated as the smallfolk from Flea Bottom. At the two extremes of the doors, Willam and Erand, distant cousins from her Queen Mother’s side, who were the guards on duty outside of the nursery, gave her a smile and a bow once she was back to her senses. This won’t do, she thought with the hint of frown in her brow with enough composure to smile brightly at the men, two knights can’t guard every single person inside the nursery, much less the Queen and the royal children, in case an issue arises. As much as the Blacks do not represent a threat to us now, it doesn’t mean we can be lax with the security of our family. A cornered dog will jump over the wall. I harbour no doubt about Daemon’s proficiency to make trouble, and as such, I will treat him with as much caution as the Rogue Prince merits. Only a fool would underestimate his adversaries, and I am no fool.

Additional guards must then be sent, haste in their steps to fulfil the most important task in their lives: to guard her family with every ounce of strength found in their bodies, to the death. Of course, the task would be rewarded as highly as it should, and the Green Cloaks knew this well. As long as my Queen Mother and the children are well taken care of by this knights, then not even a lordship and towers of gold are outside of the realm of possibility.

A knock in the dark and thick wood door from the right with her scarred hand, a soft one, one that is firm but gentle. Just to make her presence known to the Queen inside. It is permitted by the knights, who keep her in sight with their hands close to their swords. A point of pride for the Green Cloaks, a gesture that will always be remembered by her.  “May I come in, Mother?”

Willam and Erand stand their guard, firm and unmoving, not even giving her a hint leeway to make her way in, waiting for her Queen Mother’s allowance. Valaena nods approvingly, intent on rewarding them for their fierce protection once the matters for the day have been dealt with. Not a few moments later, the doors open from inside, revealing quite a bit of the nursery. The knights move from their spot and allow her to pass. As she comes in, she notes the difference from when she and her siblings used it as their own: the lack of ribaldry hanging from tapestries in the walls and the obscene paintings it’s a breath of fresh air. The decorations are less bold, less Targaryen, in a manner of speaking, and much more adequate for children. The room is made to be a place of comfort and delight, of childish games and delighted laughs. Not a mere place for sleep and to be sequestered, away from the prying eyes of every noble in court. The emotions felt inside her chest are ones of warmth, of dragonfire and burning flesh. It brings her comfort, a strange notion, for comfort it’s a luxury more adequately afforded to the children, who are kept outside of the reach of anything related to politics and life outside of their nursery, of the gardens and the skies. Yet, it’s a welcome feeling. As her and her siblings grew, quickly becoming men and women grown, the tension and the danger grew with them. As much as they had taken control of the Seven Kingdoms in all but name, the threat to their lives and the lives of those they loved, remained. Until the day the last of the Blacks drew their last breath, no one would be truly safe. The time nears for events to come to a close. Soon, the only blood of the dragon alive, will be those of pure hearts. We light the way in fire and blood.

Inside, the chamber is even bigger than it appeared from the open doors. The space utilized to its maximum gain, yet the feeling is one of cosiness. The quick but thorough glance she deigns the room, is enough for her to feel assured that the children have everything they need. As for the nursemaids… perhaps sending a couple more would not be a wrong option. Especially now, when the children would need to be watched with the attention of a hawk. Though maybe that would have to wait until the end of the day, when she could converse with Aegon about it. Indeed, I would certainly feel much secure if the children were to be taken care of by more than three nursemaids. I wonder why my Queen Mother did not inform either me or Aegon about this matter. I shall ask her at a later date.

It is not often that she ventures towards the nursery, much less common that she steps inside. In fact, it’s the first time since she saw to the matters of securing Maegor's Holdfast for her family, that she has entered this chamber. It prevails, the tried and tested method of standing outside and waiting for her Queen Mother to come out of the nursery to regale her with a request for the children, either in person or by the voice of a lady-in-waiting. The memories associated with the place are less than endearing to her. Yet, it is needed that she ensures the message is delivered, as is much of her selfishness to see her Queen Mother to bring herself a shred of comfort before facing their adversaries. She much preferred to spend time with the children in the gardens or in her chambers, though she is not averse to visiting the nursery if the children were to ever ask, as are her siblings.

As soon as they see her, the children run towards her, little bare feet making little to no noise in the carpeted floor to protect them from the cold and hard stone floor. “Muña!” Their bodies, small as they are, yet with the force of a dragon inside them, collide with her legs. Almost knocking her down to the stone floor, she remained on her feet out of sheer force of will and sharp reflexes.

“Talī, Trēsī. Ruo jorrāeliarza.” She said in response to their excited hugs, an amused half-smile in her red lips. She keeps her eyes looking at the children, who smile at her and hug her legs tighter in the little circle that they have formed.  “I have missed you as well, children. No need to act as if I’m taking Maiden and riding her towards Sothoryos.”

­That, in hindsight, it is not the adequate thing to say, for the children break into a wail that could make that joke of a dragon of Rhaenyra’s bow her head in shame. She frowned, a grimace passing through her face before smoothing into blankness. A glance at her Queen Mother allowed her to see the dark half circles underneath her eyes, the tiredness that clung to her graceful frame even as the older woman pretended everything was in order. If she loathed anything more than she did her half-sister’s family, it would be her Queen Mother to be hurt. It didn’t matter if it was because of her children or Aegon’s. For her Queen Mother to suffer, that was an unacceptable thing. “Aōle lykemās.”

Perchance, it is her tone of voice, serious and devoid of any warmth, that forced the children to cease wailing. Or maybe, it is the way she looks at them, not quite as fond as she first did upon seeing them, but neither as icy as her voice.

Upon seeing their little frighten faces, she forced herself to change the way her face looked. It would not do to hurt the children for something that they had no control over. “Rȳbās. It was merely a jape, I did not mean to cause you to cry. Beloved children, you know very well that I love you, I would never go away.”

Sweet Helaenar, the child that came from her loins before his twin, the sweetest and gentlest of the children, gentler than even her brother Daeron, looked up at her with bright eyes that shone with unshed tears, spoke in a voice so soft that it almost seemed to have a silky quality. “Truly, muña? You… would you never leave us?”

A loving smile bloomed in her expression. She raised her right hand from her side to hold her boy’s cheek. Her touch tender and motherly. “No, beloved boy, I would never leave you.” Then, having anticipated the question, she said. “Neither would your Kepa.”

The moment is continued by the victorious cheer from Jaehaera, the most animated child out of the four. “I told you! Neither muña or ñama would leave us!”

For a moment, confusion takes hold of her mind, not allowing her to understand what is happening. Then, realization of the events leading to their wailing. The memory of messages about the children’s increasingly irritated state, while she and Helaena were supervising the charities and security in the city. A sennight that they spent outside of the Red Keep. Adding insult to that injury, it seemed, that neither parent had visited the children for a fortnight due to their increasingly overloaded schedules. That would have to be solved, sooner than later, for the children could not be behaving untowardly towards neither their grandmother, or the nursemaids. For none held the blame in this, but she and her siblings.

She let her hand fall at her side, and with a graceful movement, she fell to her knees to be able to look at the children in a relative equal eye to eye. She held a child by the shoulder, one in each hand. Helaenar and Jaehaerys, with Aegelle and Jaehaera in the middle. “I have to apologize, my children. It is not an excuse that me and your parents have been too overwhelmed with work for us to come see you. But it is all I can offer as a reason for not visiting… yet, I can offer you this: we will spend however long you want with you in turns, in the next sennight, for we must take care of an adversary that threatens our family, before we can occupy our time as we wish.”

She made sure to modulate her voice as if she were telling a fearsome tale. In order to influence the children and made them see sense in a way that was understandable for them. And sure enough, the children stared at her, wide eyed, their expressions worried. Then, she whispered to them, as if she were telling them a secret. “But worry not, because me and your muña and kepa, will make sure they will never threaten us never again.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

After sending the children away with their respective nursemaids, succeeding many allowances and promises to pacify the children due to the low time. It is that Valaena is left alone with her Queen Mother and her Ladies-in-waiting. Ladies that have, very graciously may she note with a hint of satisfaction, retreated to a far corner of the chamber where furniture has been moved by them in order of granting as much privacy as there can be in such circumstances.

The chamber is lit by its two fireplaces on opposite sides; the light from the various candles an added source of light that nevertheless make the graceful and beautiful form of her mother look almost daunting. The shadows creating a contrast with that of the shadows born from tiredness in her mother’s face. She’s not seen her mother this tired since the day Aemond was maimed by the bastard. She does not like the implication that this has been brought by their careless handling. Yet, what other answer there is? Mother’s life had always been hard because of them, if not for the interest shown to her by King Viserys, she would not have married the father of her friend, or delivered a babe within such short span of time. It, most of all, is the fault of King Viserys, who looked with lust towards the long-time friend of his daughter in such a short time after the death –caused by him as all the Realm knows– of his wife, the Queen Aemma. And now, nine and ten years later, her mother is the one that pays the price.

Despite the regal bearing of her mother, who is as suited to queendom as no other beyond her sweet twin, she can see the fragility underneath the armour of courtesy and queenly countenance that her mother has used as both shield and sword since the birth of Aegon. The years have not been most kind to the one who had birthed five dragons, and if they have, then surely they lack the necessary gentleness and reward that her mother deserves more than anyone. It is then, the duty of Valaena to right the wrongs that the world has done onto her mother. As is the duty of her siblings.

Seated across one another as they are, she can see the tense lines that stiffen her mother’s commonly delicate posture. The tightness of her mouth, no doubt hurting her teeth due to the constant and hard clenching. And most revealing of all, the state of her mother’s nails and hands that are of the most horrendous condition. A topic which has to be spoken about at urgent brevity, most certainly, among my siblings and I. And the ladies-in-waiting shall be punished accordingly for not reporting the state of my Queen Mother. For it to reach this level, things must be serious. It is most obvious to her, that this is not a recent development, nor one that should have been kept secret from either Daeron or Valaena, as the primary caretakers of everything related to their mother. Yet she can see the loyalty in the eyes of the ladies, and the nursemaids, and for that, the punishment shall be lessened, if only because Valaena believes the women had the best in mind for her mother. No doubt remembering the times under surveillance of Otto Hightower and King Viserys. Yet, she thinks, her siblings and her have proven to have been cut from a different cloth altogether. Proof enough should be all what they have accomplished in six short years to change the destiny of their family, and yet, it seems, nothing much has changed in the eyes of those of lower status. For she remembers the faces of those in the service of her mother, and the way they looked in the times past, as well as she remembers what she ate as she broke her fast in the early morning.

Her mother, kind and merciful as the Mother, cannot look any more different to her eyes. Valaena resented such thing. Felt the guilt bubble up like the last breath of a dying man drowning. She squashed the feeling, deciding that she would do her most to begin to change what had her mother in such a state to the best of her capacities.

Gentle as she could ever manage to be, with a hint of fangs and claws, she does her best to appear as soothing as she is not. She, very placidly and slowly, reaches her hands to grasp her mother’s, and once she does, she graces caresses upon them the same way her mother used to do for her as a child. She modulated her voice to be reassuring, instead of the princely tone that she and her siblings have adopted after many years shifting between personas for the court, keeping her voice steady and low enough to not be boisterous. It does not escape her that her mother does not look at her, a stormy look upon the gentle eyes that had always looked at her with nothing but love.

“Dear mother, look at me and feel reassured from what worries you if you can and see the truth in mine own eyes.” It is a request, it borders on begging, and Valaena would feel, perhaps ashamed or angered to be reduced to such lowly thing for anyone who was not family, if it were not for the look of her mother.

It is with reluctance and much more begging that her mother graced her with a single look that sent the older woman in a fit of tears. It broke her heart to see her mother in such a state and be able to do nothing but be the shoulder where she could cry. Moving from her seat across her mother and into the seat beside the older woman, her movement swift and efficient. Despite the urgency, she did nothing but be there, as solid as Valyrian Steel, and as gentle as silk. The tears soaked her deep green tunic and the part of her neck that was exposed and free from her silver hair. It was with the motherly touch of a woman not much experienced, but still willing to give comfort that she caressed her mother’s hair, not much differently of the way that she caressed her own children’s after a bad dream. She received the most of the upper weight of her mother with no effort whatsoever, as she embraced her with as much love as she could embed in her hold. She whispered sweet nothings into her ear, speaking clearly of how much well loved her mother was by her family and the Realm. Never slowing despite the tight knot in her throat that threatened to make her spill her own tears into her mother’s hair. Slowly, but surely, her mother calmed enough to speak her worries. What she told was worrisome for the state of her mother’s mind, and intriguing, for it rang too closely to Helaena’s own dreams. Of the doom of their family at the hands of the Blacks. Things that would not come pass after the dedicated effort that Aegon and her had put into securing the future. Her twin’s dreams had slowly changed during the years, until they showed no resemblance to the originals. This too, would be true for her mother’s.

The inquiring trait of her personality wanted to investigate further, to know how her mother, a woman neither from the North or of Valyrian descent, could have dreams that predicted the future, or a would be future that had already been changed for the most part.

For her part, now with the strong certainty that such a future would never be realized, and that her mother was simply seeing the would be, before they took the reins, did her best to console her mother.

“Worry not, mother, for that future you dream of, will never come to be. My dear twin dreamt much of the same, and yet her dreams changed as the board filled with our pieces. You see a future that has already changed. That future will never come to be.”

The whisper strained her hearing, and despite being in such closeness to her own mother, she had to lean her head down to catch the desolate mumble. “But everything seemed so real… you were not there, sweet girl, and we failed.”

That made her pause, her eyes turning calculating, showing much of her true nature before she pushed the revelation from her gaze. A future where she did not exist? That was not quite what her twin had told her… but neither was what she had not told. This matter needed further investigation, much more than the facts she already had. Many matter call to my attention… so little time and so much to do.

Having already dismissed ever asking her Queen Mother what Aegon requested she required of their mother, she very much rose from the long seat with her mother held firmly in her arms, the weight of her mother barely a something that required more strength than she had. Mother lost weight… this is not good. I shall remedy that as soon as I can, I will leave orders to the Queen’s kitchen to send nutritious meals. Hearing none of the soft spoken orders to put her down, Valaena beckoned with an upwards nod to the ladies to follow her.  She ordered that the knights open the doors, and once they did, she left them with orders that were to be followed with no objection.

She walked with purpose, ordering left and right. The ladies, to much of her surprise, heard her and muttered their agreement with less than a word of hesitancy. The royal apartments that belonged to the Queen were not much longer from the nursery, as it was designed to keep the royal children and their mother close together. Usually, the nursery was occupied by the children of the queen, and not the grandchildren, but Valaena had deemed that the arrangement was much needed, as mother required the distraction, and the children needed someone from the family to watch over them while the rest was occupied. As such, she needn’t walk much longer than it would have been tiring to her strength.

One of the ladies, Sara Snow, the sister of Lord Cregan, opened the doors to the queen’s apartments. The woman looked as much a Northener as her true born brother, with her grey eyes and dark hair, though she did not suffer the wolf’s blood that accursed the Starks. Valaena entered the chamber after giving the woman a look of appreciation, taking a direct path towards the room where her mother slept. Depositing the older woman atop of the green and silver bedding, knowing that the queen’s room guarded the heat better than the nursery, she kissed her mother in the cheek, tenderly as any mother on her own right would.

“Get well mother, please do try to rest.”

She rose from the position where her back was bent, and straightened as much as she could without looking like she was putting in the effort. A silver of conflicting emotions crossed her mind, making her pause and blink away the accumulated tears on her eyes. She swallowed, trying to ease the persisting knot in her throat. She did not have much luck, but at least the knot was not as painful as it initially was.

“Rest mother.” She insisted once she caught the slight movement that showed the resistance of her mother. A welcome sight, despite the urgent need of rest that mother had. Yet, it reminded her of the way her own children would twist and turn in their beds as they were put to sleep. “Please, for us.”

Mother settled with a sigh, nodding and closing her eyes to sleep.

She waited a few moments, certainly long enough for mother to fall asleep. Once she deemed the time enough, she departed the room. The ladies waited for her with anxious faces that should have been concealed, yet she said nothing admonishing. It was to be expected that the ladies were to be preoccupied with her mother to pay much attention to their expressions.

“Thank you for taking care of my mother. Please do watch over my mother’s rest and recuperation in the next sennight… My siblings and I will be occupied with matters of the Realm before we can take rest.” For once in her life, she allowed her true feelings to come through in the face of strangers. The pure and unaltered relief, the gratefulness and the fear that she felt deep down. She saw as it did most of the job of convincing the ladies, the vulnerability shown aiding her with the tender hearts of the women that had seen her grow up.

“Tis but our duty, Your Grace… moreover, the Queen Alicent has always been most kind to us, it would be a disservice to not return her favour in her time of need.” Spoke Dia Sand, the bastard child of the previous ruling Prince of Dorne. A most beloved sister of Prince Qoren and aunt to the future wife of her younger brother Daeron, Aliandra.  She spoke in that soft silky tone of hers, one that little Aliandra tried to imitate often. Yet Valaena saw the cunning shining in the eyes of the woman of similar age; she did not believe Valaena was saying all there was to say. It was obvious, and troublesome. Though she did not think that the natural born woman would do anything about it. 

Valaena nodded, smiling without ever truly communicating warmth. “That is much true.”

“I must ask of you to not leave the queen’s apartment. Your necessities will be delivered at brevity by servants, as will be food and anything else you require, you need just ask. Knights will be sent to guard the children as well as the queen’s apartments. You needn’t worry about your safety.”

Agnes Tully, the spinster sister of Lord Grover Tully, who was Master of Works, spoke. Her voice more aged and scathing than a young maid’s. It befitted the old crone well.  “The final battle against the whore of Dragonstone is finally beginning, then. It was about time your lot did their biggest and most significative contribution to the Realm. If you had taken any longer I would have taken one of your dragons and burned that whore and her brethren myself.”

That brought a sincere smile to her lips. “I do not doubt you for a second, Lady Agnes.”

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

“Ser Jonntan, please do send four squadrons of the best knights to the royal apartments. I need them to guard the nursery and the queen’s apartments. I need them to take turns guarding the Queen and the royal children, they are to guard them day and night until I relieve them of their duty.”

The lad, young as he was, barely as old as Aegon, nodded, though he looked confused as a newborn foal. He went away soon after. Confident that the lad would do his task well, and already seeing streams of knights filtering from the Green Cloaks Wing not a few moments later, ready to do their duty with faces filled with joy for being selected. She turned to her attendants, her own guards and the members of the Royal Guard that had come at her command. It was common of her to go on her own, needing no guard but herself, though her shadow guard, much jokingly called that way by her older siblings, was the one that usually took the shape of her husband and brother. Though it was not unusual of her to take members of her own guard with her on missions where she needed to appear the part of the weak defenceless princess, or where their strength and numbers were needed. The attendants were another tale altogether, for she had at least five of them, at all times accompanying her wherever she went. The knights faced her solemnly, loyalty in their eyes and strength in their bodies, ready to unsheathe their swords and die at the first sign of danger.

She was pleased with the sight. Pleased enough to smile at them brightly, her eyes crinkling, shining with the light of the stars. “Emi, I need you to stay at the royal apartments, keen to anticipate any request that comes from the ladies and children, as long as it is not to come out of their apartments. See to it that they have anything they need. Take with you a team of attendants if you need. I trust you to do your task wonderfully…oh, and do take with you at least three other nursemaids, the children need them.”

Emi, dear and loyal maid that was barely twenty, and who had accompanied her since she was seven years old, nodded and quickly disappeared in the direction of the staff’s quarters. Valaena watched her go with a smile filled with teeth.

As she turned to face the knights, she subdued her smile to a more acceptable manner. Her voice as cold as the Wall. “Please do coordinate with your brothers and sisters to follow Plan Dragonfire at the brevity. Today is the day.”

The knights knelt on the stone floor, their right hands to their covered chests. “As you command, Your Grace.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

The Great Hall, Throne Room.

The Great Hall had been transformed from the dreary, lacklustre hall that it was in the years of King Viserys, to a beautiful, functional hall ready to receive hundreds of people if needed. Her twin’s work showing in every part of the hall, from the carefully embroidered banners to the fresh food on the long tables. It is certain that Helaena had a gift for these things, for Valaena would have just added their banners and chairs. But then, Helaena would be the queen and not her. Their roles were very well suited to their personalities and skill sets, one thing she was grateful for.

She made her rounds around the hall, greeting and exchanging pleasantries with the nobles in hall, going from one noble to another, and then to the commonfolk. She was, after all, a Princess of the Realm, the woman whose net is as vast as the ocean, and as high as the sky. She does not dislike this commonfolk, nor does she think them sheep, but the subjects of the royal family that are under their protection, and that as such, have every right to be here as any other noble. It took her a while, long enough that Andrei, another of her attendants, whispered in her ear to remind her of the incoming mummers. Her eyes shone with delight, and quickly, she bid her farewells. Not before kissing and embracing whoever had spoken to her.

With steps that exuded grace and nimbleness, she moved towards the Iron Throne, where Aegon, his Small Council and the Advisors sat in the stairs that led to the monstrosity that was the Iron Throne. They had done their rounds much earlier than her, as she was preoccupied with their mother, but seemed content enough to speak with anyone that came up to them. In the entire hall, corner to corner, the hall was lined and packed with knights, both Royal Guards and Green Cloaks, and some of them mingled among the attendees in the guise of kind chatter. At the sides of her family and the Small Council, both Kingsguard and Queensguard stood strong, their eyes vigilantly scouring every inch of the hall, and every person in the lookout of a threat. Valaena approved of their incessant work, and she was proud of their vigilance instilled by her at every moment. She had done wonders training them and imparting the importance of their duties, as had done Aemond and Ser Criston. Clario… would he be proud of me? Of what I have become? The thought brought her an immense sadness that bloomed from her chest. If anything, Clario would have been content with the safety of my family.

As she stopped at the beginning of the stairs, she bowed slightly to the lords and ladies, winking at Aegon with a cheeky smile, receiving in turn the sight of the teasing tongue of her older brother. To the rest of her siblings and her husband, she gave bright smiles and a wave of her hand. “My Lords, My Ladies. It is an honour to see you as it has always been. Please do excuse my tardiness, I lost track of the time as I played with the children.”

Dismissing their instant need to rise and pay their courtesies to her with a gesture from her hand, she sat on the floor, removing her sword’s scabbard from where it was clasped, and holding it with her left hand, looking up at them and behaving as if the mummers were not moments away from the Great Hall. No doubt irate at not being able to speak with the carcass that King Viserys. Thank goodness I wear breeches and a tunic, and not a dress. That would have been most awkward.

“Beloved,” She called out to her husband and brother. Aemond’s sharp violet eye looked at her with single minded focus. His attention solely on her. “Hen sȳndrāzmā qurdalbri imastō daor. Don’t you think?”

The father of her children, and the only man that Valaena loved in a romantic way, hummed. “It is, wife. Though it improves by the second you are here.”

She giggled, feeling younger than she was. And less tense since the moment she received word of the Blacks trip to King’s Landing. Then, unable to continue with that mood with victory so near, she grumbled. “Mittys.”

Her siblings stopped their conversations at once, and turned to her. In their eyes shone the same fire that she felt inside her, their blood boiling, no doubt, at the slight whiff of their adversaries coming so close within their reach. The end of an era, and the beginning of another.  

“Truly?” Said Daeron, his soft voice shifting towards a bloodthirsty edge. Despite being the gentlest of them, Daeron was a force to be reckoned with. His gentleness was simply an inheritance from mother, one that he used in his little plots and machinations just as Helaena did.  At his side, little Aliandra smiled at him. The girl still did not understand the politics of King’s Landing well, but she understood enough.

She nodded firmly. “Any moment now.”

Just in cue, as if they had been waiting for her to confirm their appearance to her siblings, the Blacks and the Velaryons entered the room. Announced with little fanfare and care, barely anyone heard them, and even less moved aside to allow them to pass, if the way their party of little traitors behaved, as if greatly offended by not being allowed to do as they pleased. Valaena refused to look back at them instantly, as did her siblings. At the sides, the members of both the Small Council and the Advisors followed their example, speaking quietly among each other.

“It is time for court to commence, brother.” Aemond told their older brother, who nodded with an agreeable smile.

Aegon rose, and with him rose the rest. As he climbed step by step the Iron Throne, the rest took to their places with practiced ease. The Advisors went to right, while the Small Council went to the left. The guards of both king and queen moved to the front, protecting the entirety of both hands of the king. Ser Criston took Ser Arryk to guard the stairs that led to Aegon, who had sat down, appearing quite comfortable in the chair that had been his for the last six years.

Valaena shifted her expression to the warm and welcoming mask she adorned whenever in court, and walked to the right, placing herself at the left side of her husband, clasping her scabbard back at it place hanging from her belt. At her side, Lord Cregan and at his side Daeron. Following him were Princess Meria Martell and Ser Alester Tyrell.  She surveyed the way the commonfolk mingled among the nobles, the way some even spoke with faint smiles on their faces, and felt the pleasing emotion of pride warm her belly. This was all the work of her siblings and her. This, belonged to them in a way that nothing else did. The fruit from their labour and their effort.  Something that the whore of Dragonstone and her Rogue Prince could never hope to accomplish.

Then, she saw that their adversaries had been herded to some far corner behind the petitioners, not as many as they would have in a busy day, but still a mighty number. Around a hundred, if she counted every single commonfolk that was at the left, no doubt some of them came as a family, or were petitioning for the resolve of an issue. Each day less came to petition, with the increasing aid to the commonfolk and their issues, with justice available at hand, and with Aegon doing his best to improve the Realm.

The Hand of the King, Aelys of Lys, stepped forward, his soft features and delicate body moving swiftly. The man looked every inch Valyrian, he certainly could pass as a relative to Helaena, who had the softer features of all of them. Certainly, he looked much more a Valyrian than the Strong bastards that her half-sister kept trying to pass for Laenor Velaryon’s. He spoke, his voice differing greatly from his appearance, for it was dark and rich. “Prince Aegon will hear your petitions now, so please, do come forward with your grievances.”

Then the man stepped back, hiding the shadow of the Kingsguard.

Orderly came the first petitioner, a woman of Dornish features and a strong accent, behind her stepped two boys with their hair hidden and faces obscured by their dark hoods. She wore expensive clothes, yet more revealing than any noble this side of Westeros. A whore, Valaena deduced by the way the woman’s body held herself, as if inviting a patron, and a bit of pity rose among her. And one of the highest paid. Yet, her position must not allow her to take care of the children very well.

“Your Grace, today I come to plead for aid of the crown to raise my children.” She then gestured at the boys to come forward. The boys obeyed, standing at each of her sides, their pale hands clutching their hoods. They continued to hear her case, for surely, she must have a reason to ask such thing of the crown.

“These boys are the result of me laying with Prince Daemon, five and ten years back. When the prince came back to the tourney.” Then, she whispered something to the boys, and they took their hoods off. Valaena watched with interest as their silver hair was revealed, and their lilac eyes. Their features were Valyrian, no doubt of that, and from this far, they had some likeness to the Rogue Prince. She whispered to Aemond to bring the boys closer. He commanded a Kingsguard to do so, Ser Willis, as soon as the woman finished speaking. “A brothel is no place for boys… or children to be at, where each day more men come to inquire about their price, Your Grace, so I ask for your help.”

“Lies!” Came the shriek of her half-sister. Valaena’s gaze went straight to where the brethren of the so called Realm’s Delight was. Then she moved her gaze towards Daemon, who looked every inch the Rogue Prince, even at his five and fifty years. He looked unbothered by the woman telling the court of his bastards, no doubt he believed the indulgence of King Viserys would be in Aegon. “My Prince would never lay with your kind!”

The scoffs that were heard around the hall were telling enough that even the whore shut her boorish mouth.

Aegon spoke then. “If you cannot behave yourself, Princess Rhaenyra, then I will remove you from this hall.” A gesture from his hand had Green Cloaks stepping from behind the whore and her party, their swords unsheathed, ready to follow any order given by their future king. That certainly settled the whore. Vaelena frowned, when she saw that Daemon’s eyes were on a lass that was dressed in a plain red dress, her skin was dark as was her hair, and she looked uncomfortable in the setting of this court session. Through her eyes passed images that revealed to her the truth. She looked down, in order to avoid being seen with her eyes clouded by the white fog that plagued her visions. It would bring complications she did not have the time for.

A whirlwind romance that awoke something in him that no other woman or man ever had.

Nettles. The beloved woman of Prince Daemon. The one that made him challenge everything he was, the woman that certainly was everything that Prince Daemon would have never looked at before. She could see the moment where he left her go, despite the orders of his queen that he slay her, and the way even Caraxes had wailed with grief at her parting. The way he had gone straight to a certain death towards Aemond in order to give her more time to run away. I can use this.

Ser Willis moved towards the presumed bastards and the Dornishwoman that had yet to reveal her name. He beckoned them gently until they were behind the Kingsguard, and in front of Vaelena.

Raising her face again, she smiled at them, so close to her, their faces looked even younger than their years told, and she was reminded that some did not need to shed childhood to protect themselves. Though she was in no form convinced that they were not boys that had lived a rough life, their clear eyes told her of their innocence. They looked almost like a copy of the Rogue Prince, their mother’s features shining in their lips and the shape of their eyes. There was no doubt inside her mind that these children were Daemon’s. Their blood called to her, strong and vivid. She knew these children were Targaryen’s.

“What says you, sister?” The voice of Aegon behind her gave her a fright. She flinched almost violently in her place. Her heart felt as if it had stopped for a moment before beating again.

“I have told you in countless occasions not to do that!” She turned and hit him in the ribs as hard as she could.

“Ow! Ow! No need to be violent, sister!” Aegon whined, touching his side with a pained face. “Defend me from your brutish wife!” He told Aemond, looking at him with big eyes.

“Hmm.” Was the only response he got from their younger brother. Aegon stared at him, as if betrayed.

Valaena refrained from reacting too much, already slightly embarrassed of having shown so much emotion in front of strangers. Calculated as it was, she sighed. “I say they are our uncle’s.”

Lord Cregan agreed from her side. “I have seen the Prince Daemon but once, when I was a young lad, and I can say that these boys look almost identical to him.”

At this point, the Small Council had flocked to their side. Their chorus of agreeing voices settled the matter.

Valaena continued, once everyone had been heard. “The royal treasury can take supporting a couple of boys. Furthermore, it is our duty to take care of our family.”

“Well, then I say…” Aegon made himself purposefully slow to have the dramatic reception he was so fond of getting. Valaena could see the anxiety on the faces of the boys and the worry in the woman’s. It would serve them well to remember who helped them in their moment of need. Not the whore of Dragonstone, and not her Rogue Prince, but her brother, the Prince Regent.  “welcome to the family, cousins.”

To the woman, he said warmly. His eyes were full of that boyish charm that had all the women, and some of the men, at court falling for him.  “We will take care of them, for they are our family, worry not.”

The woman broke into a cry, her body almost fell to the ground, if not for the timely intervention of her twin. “Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you.”

Thank you, woman, for you have given two more dragonriders to our cause.

Helaena embraced the woman, giving her the warm comfort of another mother, promising her that she could visit whenever she wanted. Valaena held no opinion on this, she did not care if the woman came or did not, beyond the use that it could give them in the minds of the commonfolk. Daeron went to speak with the boys, and they fell into a comfortable chatter.

The three of them that were left, spoke quietly in High Valyrian. Aemond, as always, was the brashest, while Aegon was the fiercest. Valaena was the cruellest. Yet, their schemes needn’t for them to plan, for they revealed themselves to Valaena in the form of visions.

“The boys shall be left alone… we do not need them to bring Daemon down. But fear not, we can use them, four dragons would be welcome into the cause.” She said, turning their heads towards the girl, Nettles, her hands gripping their heads from behind. “We have that lass there for that. Prince Daemon loves her, and she loves Prince Daemon. Why not use that?”

“Did you see it?” Aegon asked.

She nodded. What she saw never led her stray. Her will and magic were resourceful enough to fix any wrong, as were her visions. “I did, and I can assure you, what I have seen ensures that Rhaenyra’s most staunch supporter leaves her defenceless. It was a long time coming.”

Like the dragons they were, the way they grinned full of teeth, made her feel vindicated.

[pansyparkinsonsworld]

WHERE THE NORTH WIND MEETS THE SEA

note: this is originally from ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46195858

CHAPTER ONE: first meet

Princess Valaena Velaryon or Lady Valaena Stark was loved by the people of King's Landing, Dragonstone, and of Winterfell. At the age of six and ten, she was sent to Winterfell for a betrothal to the new Lord of Winterfell, Lord Cregan Stark. Will the Dragon that breathes Fire love the direwolf that is winter?

"Hello, Lord Cregan Stark." Valaena bowed, in front of his Grace. "I am Lady Valaena of House Velaryon. And.. I am your betrothed." She kept her introduction as short as possible, for she did not want to scare Cregan with her advanced knowledge of the Common Tongue. She grew learning the Common Tongue, High Valyrian and Pentoshi.

Cregan bowed before Valaena, looking a bit taken aback. Many would have said that the beauty of Lady Valaena was unmatched, even the beauty of her mother would not go against Valaena's. "My…Lady? It is an honor to finally meet you, my lady. And to see the most beautiful woman in Westeros in person." Cregan blushes slightly. "We…are to be wed, my lady."

"Yes, so it seems. And address me as your Princess, not your Lady. It is impolite to call me Lady." Valaena told him off. Often times, she would use the term Lady for informal event, but for formal events, she would use Princess. This event, however, some may call it informal, she calls it formal.

Cregan looks slightly scared, flushing even more. "I-I am sorry, Princess Valaena. You are right, it is improper. I did not mean to insult you or the position of Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. I simply…I simply wanted to address you with proper terms of respect, Princess. I did not want to overstep, for a second." Cregan looks at Valaena, his gray eyes pleading. "I apologize for offending you, Valaena. Please, forgive me."

"It is alright, my love." She gave a warm smile. "Tell me.. What is Winterfell? How is it? Do you want children?"

"Winterfell is a city of stone and ice, my love. It is old and strong, a place where my people live." Cregan described, a smile on his face. Valaena could recall falling for that smile. "And yes, my love. I would love to have children with you. What is a husband and wife, without sons and daughters, after all? I would love nothing more than to be a father, and a husband to you, Princess Valaena. You are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

"You flatter me so, Lord Cregan." Valaena let out a giggle. "I cannot wait to have children with you, Lord Cregan.. Will it be alright with you if I call you.. Cregan?" She asked.

Cregan smiled, Lady Valaena was not only beautiful, but kind enough as well! "'Lord Cregan' sounds so formal, my love. Just…Cregan will suffice. I am all yours, my love. We shall marry soon in the godswood at Winterfell. The North will rejoice at our union!"

"That, I am certain of." She laughed. "Come sit with me by the garden, I want to get to know you better and more, Cregan.. Come. Sit."

Cregan walks towards Valaena, looking at her with eyes filled with affection, love, and a hint, a little bit of admiration and awe. "I am yours, Princess. I follow your lead, as you say. I will sit, next to you, by the garden." Cregan sits, and looks at Valaena longingly. "My love, my heart, my future, I am yours entirely."

Valaena laughed. Two ten and six giggling in the gardens.. "What shall you name our first child, my love?" She asked, as she laid her head in his shoulder.

Cregan's smile broadened at Valaena's laughter. "For our first daughter, I was thinking 'Aemma'. A name with Targaryen power and grace. And for our first son, if he is born, I would like to name him 'Jace.' Such a sweet and good name for a good boy." Cregan looked wistfully into the distance, thinking forward into the future. "What do you think my love? Do you approve of these names for our children?"

Valaena closed her eyes, and hummed. "Hmm.. Aemma Stark, Jace Stark.. You pick excellent names, my love." She praised. "I want to name our daughter, if we had, I would pick.. Alarra, Arys, Amara, Aris, and maybe.. Crega? Short for Cregan, of course." She giggled.

"I love your names, Princess. Your children are blessed to be named by you. I will name our children as you command me, my love." Cregan giggled. " What…what do you think life will be like for us, Valaena? I cannot tell you how happy and fortunate I am, to be here with you, my future. This betrothal is truly a marriage made in heaven - the Seven are truly smiling down upon us, my love."

"I.. I do not possibly know, Cregan.. I just hope that it will be one that is full of blessings, joy and bliss." She sighed, closing her eyes. "I am happy that you are my betrothed, the man I will soon marry." She giggled. "The Old Gods and New are looking at us, my love."

Cregan nodded. "You are right, my love. I have great hopes for the future, for us, for our children, for the North and the Seven Kingdoms. The Seven have given us a great and divine gift.. And I will be forever indebted to the Seven for giving me you, my love…for giving me you." Cregan gently kissed her lips, she tasted of blackberries and strawberry pie. "I am yours, and you are mine, Valaena."

"I am yours, and you are mine, Cregan." She replied, placing her hand inside of his. She closed her eyes, and enjoyed being with him. "Cregan.. I am sorry if I may not perform my duties as wife and Lady of Winterfell, if we do get married."

Cregan held Valaena's hand, tenderly.

Princess. You do not need to apologize. Your duties as a wife and lady are not as important as just…being yourself. Just…my wife. My love. My Valaena." Cregan reassured her. " I…I am certain you will be a wonderful wife and Lady of Winterfell. What matters most to me, my love, is your happiness. To wake and look up at your face every day, to wake each day beside you. That…is enough for me. I do not expect anything from you other than the love you give me, my love. You are enough, Valaena. You are all I could ever want or need. I do not need you to perform any duties, Valaena. I just need your love."

Cregan kissed Valaena on the lips, and held her in his arms. " I am yours, Princess…and you are mine. You are all I could ever want, Valaena. I am yours, my love. And you are mine."

"You are so kind to me, Cregan." She whispered softly.. "I love you." She said, before kissing Cregan. He tasted of blood oranges, horse meat, and red sweet wine.

Cregan closed his eyes, his arms wrapped around his betrothed. "I am not kind enough, not for you, my love. I will never be able to repay you for how you make me feel." Cregan pulled her close to him, pressing their lips against one another. "I love you, Princess. My love… forever and always…"

"I love you too, Cregan." She whispered softly, and giggled as Cregan hugged her. He smelt of direwolves, and of smoke. She did not mind, it was Cregan. It was expected from the Northerners. "I love you forevermore, my love. My sun-and-stars."

"And you are my forever-star. To think that I will get to wake up to you every morning.. to see your beautiful eyes first thing in the morning.." Cregan muttered softly. "You are my sun, my moon…my stars. You are all I could ever want, Valaena. I am forever and always…yours."