#viserys and otto

[horizon-verizon]

Alicent provided House Targaryen with four healthy dragonriding Targaryens when the Targaryen bloodline was most vulnerable. In return, the least the Targaryens could do is allow her son to ascend the throne to allow House Hightower to have more power in exchange for them helping to create four healthy Targaryens. It’s really weird how Viserys referred to Aegon as Otto’s blood and Rhaenyra as his own blood when Aegon is also his child and therefore his blood.

The Hightowers behaved like any other family married into the royal family would, so I don’t get why they’re so hated. If Viserys didn’t want the Hightowers gaining more influence then he shouldn’t have married Alicent in the first place. It was stupid of him to expect one of the most powerful noble houses in Westeros to accept Targaryens of their blood just being spares instead of kings.

Disclaimer:

The parts about explaining feudalism is supposed to recontextualize how the hierarchy is not itself based on a good ethics system or fair/good morals, not to justify said hierarchy.

The system (unjustly) does not enforces nor expects the King to be equally sociopolitically or emotionally accountable to his Queen Consort.

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

A)

You make the mistake of thinking that in a feudal society/Westerosi/Andal culture, the King and his house are obligated to do anything for the Queen Consort except to:

not publicly humiliate her (and "humiliate" can look different according to the thing done) -- with Aegon IV, it was an exceptional situation since he targeted Naerys and Aemon simultaneously out of jealousy. As long as the King doesn't disinherit her children (if they are OLDER than his mistress' kids AND those mistress' kids ARE NOT legitimized) he is, by custom, not seen to be doing anything wrong

not deny her access to the appropriate clothing, shelter befitting her station, and food

take care of any child she brings forth

In feudal societies, the Queen Consort’s “job” is to provide heirs and like everyone else in the kingdom, she has to obey her husband’s orders. She is subject to him, she has no privileges or rights over him. 

The King/Monarch is always the legal/official/customary authority over literally everyone else. This is not a democracy nor an oligarchy. 

Therefore, it is actually Alicent who customarily should obey Viserys’ commands and declarations. That is her place in this hierarchy.

You may think this is unfair, but:

Alicent was definitely a victim of her father & Viserys, but she blames the wrong person for it (Rhaenyra) bc the answer is to totally buy into the sexist and authoritarian ideals against female sexuale and other sorts of autonomy--as Alicent fails into & chooses to perpetuate.

That is feudalism (the economic-socio-political system) AND absolute monarchy (the form of government). Again, she's fallen, then chooses, to sincerely buy into this system partially bc she has no choice but she also is much too inflexible to reflect on how she's essentially hurting herself and those around her or performing a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. That was the entire point! Alicen tis not unique, too, in how the patriarchal feudal system uses her up! Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, etc, too!

@rhaenyragendereuphoria states it quite simply HERE:

Feudalism is a system of servitude based on giving up your freedom in exchange of protection by a higher lord. It binds serfs to their lords, and lords to other lords all the way to the king. Yes, the whole “Protector of the Realm” is propaganda, but it’s what they believe the job of the king to be. They will give it to the strongest who can protect them from foreign invasions: and it’s hard to think of stronger than “family that literally owns dragons”. This fandom has feudal mentality completely upside down, thinking they loathe their subjugation because subjugation is an affront to freedom. Feudalism IS subjugation. What they loathe is to submit to a weakling. They despise (and hunt, and murder) the Free Folk, calling them “wildlings”, because they’d rather be free than be bound by feudal oaths of subjugation. Feudalism is the rule of “might makes right”. At its roots, it’s a military hierarchy of warlords who bind each others with feeble and fickle treaties until one of them decides to break them and attempt to conquer the others, and either wins or fails.

And in this POST:

However, no one is given rights in these societies, not even men - not the way we would define rights. Their idea of “right” is just as arbitrary as their idea of “freedom”. They are societies based on privileges, and privileges are always revocable, unlike rights.

Alicent has no independent “rights” apart from what I already listed above. At all. Especially since she isn't blood-related to Viserys. Rhaenyra has a birthright, but only once Viserys bestows it upon her. 

Alysanne was a Queen Consort, not a Queen Regnant. Visenya & Rhaenys had more law-changing power than Alysanne did while being Consorts and not Regnant Queens, but Aegon’s word was final and he was the Monarch.

And all these women were the sisters of the then-Kings as well as their wives. You’d think that they would have more say, but no. They were obey their husband-kings' final words by Andal/feudal/monarchial custom and law.

There is no contract where it says that Viserys owes Alicent or the Hightowers -- all of them his subjects -- anything except military protection. This is feudalist absolute monarchy as GRRM sets it up and models after the common set up of real life feudal monarchies.

B)

You:

Alicent provided House Targaryen with four healthy dragonriding Targaryens when the Targaryen bloodline was most vulnerable.

Already addressed what a Consort’s repeated purpose is. 

a.

And when was this dynasty “most vulnerable”? By all accounts, Viserys’ court and reign was prosperous and peaceful (expect with the Stepstones and towards the end of his reign with Rhaenyra, Alicent, and their kids of course -- but the Stepstones war didn’t affect the actual subjects [peasant or nobles] of Westeros too much to make huge differences in and the stuff with his personal family happened insularly):

Many consider the reign of King Viserys I to represent the apex of Targaryen power in Westeros. Beyond a doubt, there were more lords and princes claiming the blood of the dragon than at any period before or since. Though the Targaryens had continued their traditional practice of marrying brother to sister, uncle to niece, and cousin to cousin wherever possible, there had also been important matches outside the royal family, the fruit of which would play important roles in the war to come. There were more dragons than ever before as well, and several of the she-dragons were regularly producing clutches of eggs.

[...]

The reign of the Young King, as the commons called him upon his ascent, was peaceful and prosperous. His Grace’s open-handedness was legendary, and the Red Keep became a place of song and splendor. King Viserys and Queen Aemma hosted many a feast and tourney, and lavished gold, offices, and honors on their favorites.

(“A Question of Succession”)

b.

If you mean Viserys having a girl as his only scion, I must remind you that:

the Targs had dragons (more dragons than ever and Aegon I/Visenya/Rhaenys, conquered Westeros with only 3)

there were no mentioned, burgeoning signs of rebellion against Rhaenyra until Alicent and Otto started to make waves (post by @theblackqveen)

While this is in the text:

Though Princess Rhaenyra had been proclaimed her father’s successor, there were many in the realm, at court and beyond it, who still hoped that Viserys might father a male heir, for the Young King was not yet thirty.

After Viserys makes it clear that he won’t change his mind, it gets more settled, and again, we hear absolutely no mention of any real attempt to prepare against Rhaenyra except from the greens.

I wrote a 2 posts on HotD Alicent and Book!Alicent’s foolishness and narcissism.

c.

THIS is what GRRM says about laws of succession:

There are no clear cut answers, either in Westeros or in real medieval history. Things were often decided on a case by case basis. A case might set a precedent for later cases… but as often as not, the precedents conflicted as much as the claims.

In fact, if you look at medieval history, conflicting claims were the cause of three quarters of the wars.

[...]

The medieval world was governed by men, not by laws. You could even make a case that the lords preferred the laws to be vague and contradictory, since that gave them more power. In a tangle like the Hornwood case, ultimately the lord would decide... and if some of the more powerful claimants did not like the decision, it might come down to force of arms.The bottom line, I suppose, is that inheritance was decided as much by politics as by laws. In Westeros and in medieval Europe both.

Still, if Alicent really is all about just following the rules and being “good”, the she would follow her husband’s order and not antagonize or contradict Rhaenyra. Because part of her Westerosi/Andal customs is that the King/Monarch is paramount and their word is law.

She hypocritically doesn’t follow the law to such a particualr "degree" or whatever that she ends up going against the authoritarian regime's ideals of King's rule and all that for her own stake...mostly unconciously.

So really, she’s about power and misogyny, since she chooses to still make her rapist son King and reap the rewards from his ascendance (who’d follow along for her and her house’s interests more than Rhaenyra would). In the show, she goes after Rhaenyra for presumably sleeping with a man not her husband....while she gives up her feet to fulfill Larys' sexual titillation in exchange for information. So Rhaenyra's sleeping with another man in a consensual setting is wrong, but somehow Alicent allowing herself to be used (she is Queen Consort, she can definitely order Larys around) and silencing one of her son's victims is okay? Both of these things that support sexual abuse? In the book, she turns against Rhaenyra when Rhaenyra is 10, and we can see the implication that they began to actually fight ever since then, so Alicent antagonizes a 10 year old. At the tourney where Daemon comes back in the book, there were Essosi people who witnessed the tension between the two.

And why does she do all that? Because she wants to empower herself, her son, and disempower Rhaenyra. At the same time, Alicent fosters an environment where this is justified.

This is why she is hated. Book!her tries to use Rhaenyra having extramarital sex as pretext for deposing her, yet she is the one going against the King’s word when it is obvious he doesn’t give three shits.

@theroguewyrm answers this ASK where the asker breaks down more of Alicent’s hypocrisy:

[...] Alicent as she has constantly held Rhaenyra accountable for having illegitimate relations with men but when it comes to her she can do it as she cloaks it under the hood of duty. The hypocrisy was also shown when Alicent tolerates every single sexual crime committed by her son in the premises of the Red Keep and outside. If it is benefitting her then she’ll permit them, she’ll stay quiet, but will simultaneously use Rhaenyra’s affair with Harwin to vilify her.

C)

You: 

It’s really weird how Viserys referred to Aegon as Otto’s blood and Rhaenyra as his own blood when Aegon is also his child and therefore his blood.

That’s because he distrusts Otto and knows Otto wants his grandkids/these green boys to inherit the throne. Otto went so far as to continue to demand/suggest Viserys change the order of succession several times until Viserys dismissed him:

The amity between Her Grace and her stepdaughter had proved short- lived, for both Rhaenyra and Alicent aspired to be the first lady of the realm...and though the queen had given the king not one but two male heirs, Viserys had done nothing to change the order of succession. The Princess of Dragonstone remained his acknowledged heir, with half the lords of Westeros sworn to defend her rights.

[...]

The matter had been decided, so far as King Viserys was concerned; it was not an issue His Grace cared to revisit. Still, questions persisted, not the least from Queen Alicent herself. Loudest amongst her supporters was her father, Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King. Pushed too far on the matter, in 109 AC Viserys stripped Ser Otto of his chain of office and named in his place the taciturn Lord of Harrenhal, Lyonel Strong. “This Hand will not hector me,” His Grace proclaimed.

(“A Question of Succession”)

Viserys was being a bad dad here, I agree. Otto was also stupid as fuck for this. Both him and Alicent. And when it comes to feudalism, the personal and the political are one and the same often. Viserys never learned, I think, to separate himself from kingship because the position and society doesn’t allow for this metaphysical existence, or for it to be practiced seriously and without consequences.

And these are the details of Rhaenyra’s naming-as-heir:

Disregarding the precedents set by King Jaehaerys in 92 and the Great Council in 101, Viserys declared his daughter, Rhaenyra, to be his rightful heir, and named her Princess of Dragonstone. In a lavish ceremony at King’s Landing, hundreds of lords did obeisance to the Realm’s Delight as she sat at her father’s feet at the base of the Iron Throne, swearing to honor and defend her right of succession.

(“A Question of Succession”)

Now from a more pragmatic standpoint, these lords already gave their oaths to Rhaenyra. To go back on it, while maybe welcome to some lords, would also diminish Viserys’ monarchial word’s value because of how huge the chnages are, and how he seems (publicly) to value oaths in general. 

While Tyland Lannister says that he never took oaths, oaths are still very seriously taken and regarded generally in this society (or like to think of themselves as doing so).

Viserys was a bad dad. Doesn't make what Alicent did excusable.

D)

a.

You:

The Hightowers behaved like any other family married into the royal family would, so I don’t get why they’re so hated.

We’re talking about the greens, here, not the Hightowers. Two, though related, separate entities for now.

The greens (Alicent, Otto, Aegon, Aemond, Daeron [Helaena is not a real player]) are hated because they are misogynists turned up 11, with an over-inflated sense of their own male privilege. It causes them to maim, rape, cause genocide, attempt assassination against Rhaenyra, even disregard and turn against each other. And at last, make a 10 year old watch as his mother is eaten alive by a dragon. 

Even with universal misogyny, I doubt that most other noblemen/individuals would be as murderous, stupid and audacious as these specific people.

BTW, you slipped. Aegon, Ameond, Helaena, and Daeron and the kids from Aegon/Helaena are all Targs. Not Hightowers.

b.

You:

If Viserys didn’t want the Hightowers gaining more influence then he shouldn’t have married Alicent in the first place. It was stupid of him to expect one of the most powerful noble houses in Westeros to accept Targaryens of their blood just being spares instead of kings.  

Here’s the text:

Though Princess Rhaenyra had been proclaimed her father’s successor, there were many in the realm, at court and beyond it, who still hoped that Viserys might father a male heir, for the Young King was not yet thirty. Grand Maester Runciter was the first to urge His Grace to remarry, even suggesting a suitable choice: the Lady Laena Velaryon, who had just turned twelve.

(“A Question of Succession”)

We understand through this and through real life feudal politics that a king/Monarch was expected to have as many kids as possible so that in the event one or some die, the others could take their place.

The moment that Otto allowed Alicent to marry Viserys after Rhaenyra had been heir for 2 years, all of Alicent’s kids would have been “spares”. This would be true if Rhaenyra was male. 

Alicent and Otto both signed up for this.

However, Rhaenyra is female, so Otto got greedy. It is only the thought that Viserys would automatically change heirs that Otto even contemplated it would be an easy thing to have Alicent’s kids as Viserys’ heirs because he thought Viserys would pass her over.

Take a look at the sociopolitical patterns. This is always the deal for second wives/Queen Consorts. If the monarch had kids from a first marriage , those kids are always before the ones in the second because they came first/are older.

Viserys makes Rhaenyra continue to be his heir and treats her like he would his male heir in that her siblings remain the “spares” they would be if she were male. thereby putting into practice equal primogentiure.

Otto has been with Viserys as his hand for years.....why did he not anticipate something like this?

[seamayweed]

Aemond is your brother. We are family. You may cuff him about as you wish at home, but in the world, we must defend our own.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON — 1x01 // 2x01

[giallo4ver]

Yes.

[bbygirl-aemond]

rhaenyra: daddy made me heir because i'm so special and good and smart

daemon:

aegon: daddy made me heir because i'm so special and good and smart

otto:

[bumblesimagines]

Burning Love

Request: Yes or No

Summary: As the eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has many responsibilities; most of which his darling sister hopes to share with him one day.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Targcest/Incest (Full-blooded Brother-Sister), Aemma lives!! and Alicent is not a childbride, mentions of stillbirths and miscarriages (Aemma's pregnancies)

Collecting HOTD oneshots like pokemon cards at this point

~~~

It was known that Targaryens had... questionable traditions. Traditions those with outsider perspective could only force themself to understand.

There was the act of putting a dragon egg in the cradle of a babe and hoping the egg would hatch sometime soon after to ensure the babe was bonded to a loyal protector they'd grow up alongside of; a tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen, eldest daughter of King Aenys I and Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Targaryens were Dragonriders, bonded with the very beasts they used to conquer the lands and pull them all into one kingdom (with the exception of Dorne, of course). They cremated their dead, a custom from Old Valyria, often with the help of a dragon belonging to their closest kin. 

And of course, the most infamous and often looked down upon custom, wedding kin to kin. Another custom from Old Valyria that many followers of the Seven turned their cheek upon, for they found the act of wedding siblings to siblings and so forth (apart from cousin to cousin) a sin. Faithful followers could voice their complaints as much as they wished, but Targaryens were kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Nobody could or would stop them from keeping their bloodline pure if they so wished. 

Descending from a long, historic, and proud family, Rhaenyra grew up listening and learning the tales of those who'd come before her. Aegon the Conquer and his faithful sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; the many rebellions and fighting brought on during the lives of King Aenys I and King Maegor the Cruel; The Old King Jaehaerys who'd chosen her father, Viserys, as heir over his own late heir's daughter, Rhaenys; and of course, the histories written during the early stages of her father's reign. 

Her beloved older brother had been two when King Jaehaerys named their father heir and three when their father ascended the throne whilst their beautiful mother, Aemma Arryn, carried her in the womb. The fourth person to ever hold little Rhaenyra in their arms had been her brother, closely supervised by their parents and the maester attending the birth, of course. With a healthy son and daughter, Viserys and Aemma hardly needed for more children, but they tried anyway. Their attempts never carried to term, however, and any little ones that did were either stillborn or died mere hours or days after birth. 

Still, Rhaenyra never needed for any more siblings. Her brother was enough, in her humble opinion. He cared for her diligently, especially during their younger years when he eagerly wished to play with her, even if it meant the two of them being gently scolded at the end of the day for dirting Rhaenyra's dresses with mud and dirt. (Y/N) treated her as his equal, even showing her how to use a wooden sword when he began his training and helping prepare her for dragon-riding on Syrax. His own mount hardly needed much training in the Dragonpit, for the mighty Vermithor's first rider had been the Old King.

As time passed, the siblings were forced apart more often than Rhaenyra enjoyed. She'd made up her mind long ago that she and (Y/N) would one day be wed, and she'd be his formidable sister-wife. Their parents merely chuckled about it when she'd first told them at the age of seven, her squeaky voice and flushed cheeks only drawing cooing from Aemma and sweet smiles from Viserys. The absence of her brother had been stark, his time taken up by training, studying, and spending time with the Small Council, but Alicent Hightower had quickly taken his spot as Rhaenyra's companion. 

However, in due time, (Y/N) became man-grown, and while Rhaenyra quickly followed with her flowering, as heir and prince, (Y/N) became the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. It took time for it to become apparent to Rhaenyra but her eyes and ears opened when she heard their parents speaking of it. Many families, highborn and lowborn, offered their daughters through letters or visits to Kings Landing. Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Brackens, Blackwoods, Tullys, and plenty more came forth. Even Otto Hightower made a passing comment about wedding Alicent to him. It was infuriating.

"In truth, I do not understand your irritation, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke gently, her slender fingers working on embroidery. A flower she'd seen in the gardens, or something along those lines. Rhaenyra hadn't truly been paying attention to her dear friend. She'd been too focused on silently fuming at the sight of her brother showing one of the highborn ladies around the Red Keep. Every giggle, every blush, every bat of her eyelashes made Rhaenyra tick. "It's wonderful to watch one's brother fall in love."

"You wouldn't understand, Alicent." Rhaenyra sighed. "It is like the love King Jaeherys and the Good Queen Alysanne had."

Alicent faltered at her words, her head lifting to eye her friend with a small grimace. "You do remember our lessons, correct? King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had to wed in secret, for they knew that not even their mother approved in fear of another uprising from the Faith. Nobody has made a fuss over your parents since they are cousins, but who knows what may happen if you wed (Y/N)."

"(Y/N) is everything King Jaehaerys was, Alicent. He is beloved by the Realm." Rhaenyra reminded her friend with a small smile, pushing herself off the cushioned seats and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. Her earrings swung slightly when she tilted her head slightly to the side, the ends of them brushing against her shoulders. Her eyes tracked (Y/N) as he lifted the lady's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before departing. "He will be a good king, and if I could prove it, I would be a good queen. His queen." Her feet began moving automatically. 

"Rhaenyra," The name tumbled out of Alicent's mouth, her hands fumbling with the items in hand. "Where are you going?"

Bunching up the skirt of her dress in her hands, Rhaenyra grinned over her shoulder and chuckled at the concerned look on Alicent's features that only grew at the sight of her mischievous glint. "To speak with my brother!" 

With a goal in mind, Rhaenyra entered the castle and followed the distant figure of her brother as he cut down hallways with long strides until he reached his bedchambers. Rhaenyra took a moment to herself to catch her breath and rake her fingers through her long silver locks before she approached the doors and nodded for the guards to open them. She stepped inside, a smile appearing across her lips when (Y/N) turned to look at her. 

"My favorite sister," (Y/N) cooed, taking a seat at his desk and unrolling a letter. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in return, clasping her hands together behind her back and taking small steps toward him. He skimmed the contents of the letter, his face giving away nothing of what it spoke of. "Is there something you require, Nyra, or are you suffering from boredom? I have plenty of lords and ladies who'd be happy to keep you busy." 

Rhaenyra scoffed quietly and (Y/N) gave a small grin. "I hear Father is urging you to find a wife."

"The Small Council is urging him to urge me, more like. They believe it is time to begin having children. Seeing as Father and Mother had great difficulty, they wish for me to have an heir by the time I ascend the throne to ensure there won't be issues later on." (Y/N) explained, coiling the letter back up and pulling out a blank paper. He dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Otto has been... more friendly as of recently. He speaks incredibly highly of Lady Alicent." 

"You'd tell me if you were interested in someone, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra reached over the desk to pluck the quill from his fingers, setting it aside and raising her brows at him. (Y/N) slumped back in his seat and laced his fingers over his midsection, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rhaenyra rounded the table and without thinking twice, she plopped down on his thigh. 

"Nyra,"

"You know as well as I do who you should wed, (Y/N). I know what a good queen should be, and I do not care about status or riches like the families of those ladies do. We have the blood of the dragon in our veins. Nobody would truly understand us." Rhaenyra spoke softly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out as she placed her palm over his cheek. His own hands unlaced, one moving to press against her back. 

"The Small Council-"

"Fuck the Small Council." Rhaenyra huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from her brother. "You are the prince, the heir. Whatever it is you choose, they must deal with it. It is their job to counsel, to offer their advice and opinions, not to dictate what you do. We could mount Syrax and Vermithor and fly elsewhere to wed in the customs of Old Valyria." 

A gentle sigh escaped (Y/N), and he leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's shoulder. The princess relaxed at the action, her hand moving past his cheek to the back of his head. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. "You are insufferable." He told her with a gentle laugh before leaning in to press their mouths together. He drew back too quickly for Rhaenyra's liking. "But a good ruler is a patient one, Nyra. If you wish for us to wed, or to lay together-" He brushed their lips together teasingly. "-you must wait. Father and Mother will be easy to convince." 

"Does it matter if we wait?" Rhaenyra tilted her head and batted her lashes coyly, the feigned innocence prompting (Y/N) to roll his eyes. She rose from his lap and dropped her hands to his, tugging on them until he stood up from the chair. She smiled widely, devilishly even, and slung her arms around his shoulders. "We will be wed, regardless. It will not matter." 

"I have things I must do, Nyra." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on her waist. "As I said, you must be patient. If you wish to speed things along, you should speak with Mother. She'll always be the key to winning Father over." He told her and planted a kiss on her temple before settling back down on the chair. 

"Will we be like that someday?" Rhaenyra asked softly, stepping out of the way so he could resume his letter. She toyed with the rings along her fingers, the thought of becoming one of those couples who genuinely cared for each other bringing a smile to herself. It was a desire all ladies had. While sons could marry whichever woman of age they desired, ladies had to hope the husbands their fathers or elder brothers chose were good men. She'd seen far too many times the faces of girls her age married and chained to men old enough to be their grandfathers. 

(Y/N) paused his writing and lifted his head to look at her, offering a reassuring smile. "Someday." He nodded. 

"I look forward to it, then."

[saltywinteradult]

House of the Dragon + "I could fix him"

Team Green (+ Viserys) edition / Team Black edition

[barbieaemond]

Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

[kvtnisseverdeen]

Summon your lord paramount so that I may treat with him myself and turn them to our cause.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON | 2.04 "The Burning Mill"

[novaursa]

Echoes of a Promise

- Summary: When Prince Daemon Targaryen challenged Ser Gwayne Hightower during the tourney, that King Viserys I orginazed for birth of his heir, it was not just to humiliate and spite Otto. It was because of you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower (with one-sided Daemon Targaryen)

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister or Rhaenyra and is bonded with dragon Silverwing. These events take place years before Skyfall. For more parts and to read this in a chronological order check my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Or you can consider it to be part just for itself.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 614

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The air is filled with the excitement and anticipation of the tournament, with the roar of the crowd echoing across the field. The day is bright, though the tension in the air hangs like a storm waiting to break. You sit in the royal box, your back straight as you watch the events unfold below. Beside you, your sister Rhaenyra leans forward, her gold and silver hair catching the sunlight, while Alicent, ever composed, keeps a more demure posture. Despite the noise around you, there's an undercurrent of unease, an undercurrent you can feel but cannot name.

You try to focus on the jousts, but your mind keeps drifting. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, yet you cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss. It could be the knowledge that your mother, Queen Aemma, is in labor, or perhaps it's the weight of expectation that seems to press down on you from all sides. The youngest princess, soon to be the sister to an heir, the girl bonded to Silverwing, you feel the eyes of the realm upon you.

Your gaze shifts to Ser Gwayne Hightower, who sits on his horse at the end of the lists, resplendent in his armor. You can feel his eyes on you, and when you glance at him, he offers a small, shy smile. There's something earnest about him, something that makes your heart flutter just slightly. You return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through you despite the cool breeze.

Rhaenyra notices your exchange and leans closer, a teasing smile on her lips. "Ser Gwayne seems quite taken with you, sister."

You give her a playful nudge. "He is a noble knight. It would be unbecoming of him not to show favor to his princess."

Alicent, always the voice of reason, adds softly, "But it is clear my brother’s favor is more than just courtly manners. Perhaps you should acknowledge it."

You cast another glance at Gwayne, who has returned his attention to the field, but not before stealing one more look your way. There is a sincerity in his eyes that you find difficult to ignore. Your heart is conflicted, though you try to push the thoughts aside. After all, you are a princess of the realm, and such things are never simple.

But before you can ponder further, the crowd erupts into cheers and gasps. The herald's voice rings out, announcing the next joust. "Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, against Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince."

The shift in atmosphere is palpable. You feel it immediately, the tension growing thick and heavy, like the humidity before a storm. Your heart skips a beat as you see Daemon enter the lists, his presence commanding, his dark violet eyes scanning the crowd before landing on you. He doesn't smile, but the look he gives you is intense, a mixture of challenge and something else you can't quite place.

"He’s chosen Ser Gwayne," Alicent whispers, her voice laced with concern for her brother.

"To spite Lord Otto, no doubt," Rhaenyra mutters, her brows furrowing.

But you know better. Daemon's choice is not just to slight his old nemesis, the Hand of the King. No, this is a message, one meant for you. Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize the implications. Daemon is many things—unpredictable, dangerous, and bold. He has never hidden his affection for you, though it is often veiled in the guise of familial care. But there’s always been more, something unspoken between you two, something that now rears its head in the most public of arenas.

As the joust begins, you watch with bated breath. The crowd roars as the two knights charge at each other, lances poised to strike. The clash is fierce, the sound of splintering wood echoing across the field. Gwayne holds his own against Daemon, and for a moment, you dare to hope. But Daemon is a seasoned warrior, and his determination today is fueled by more than just a desire to win.

They go for another round, and this time, Daemon’s lance strikes true. It shatters against Gwayne’s shield, the force of the blow unseating him. Gwayne crashes to the ground, the breath knocked out of him, and the crowd gasps. You instinctively rise from your seat, hands clutching the railing in front of you.

"Y/N," Rhaenyra says softly, reaching out to calm you, but you barely hear her.

Your eyes are locked on Gwayne as he struggles to rise, his pride wounded as much as his body. Daemon circles him like a predator, his horse prancing, as if waiting to see if Gwayne will stand again. When Gwayne finally manages to get to his feet, Daemon removes his helmet, letting his silver hair spill out, and then he dismounts.

He strides over to Gwayne, and the two exchange words you cannot hear from this distance. But you see the way Daemon’s eyes flick up to the royal box, to you, and then back to Gwayne. Whatever he says is enough to make Gwayne’s expression harden, though he does not retaliate. Gwayne simply bows his head slightly, acknowledging the defeat, and then steps back.

Daemon, satisfied, returns to his horse, but not before casting you another look. This time, there’s a smirk on his lips, one that makes your blood boil. He knows exactly what he’s done, and the worst part is that you do too. He’s made his statement, loud and clear, in front of all the lords and ladies of the realm. Daemon Targaryen does not intend to step aside, and anyone who seeks to win your favor will have to contend with him first.

As Daemon rides off, victorious, your eyes drift back to Gwayne. He stands tall, despite the defeat, and when he finally looks up at you, there is no shame in his expression. Only determination, and something else—hope, perhaps? A promise that he will not give up so easily.

You sink back into your seat, your heart a tangle of emotions. Rhaenyra gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and Alicent offers you a small, understanding smile. But your mind is elsewhere, torn between the earnest affection of a young knight and the dangerous allure of a rogue prince.

As the dust settles from the tilt between Daemon and Gwayne, Otto Hightower watches with a deepening frown, his knuckles whitening as he grips the armrest of his chair. He had seen the intent in Daemon's eyes from the moment he chose Gwayne as his opponent. The tilt had been more than just a joust—it was a pointed act, an attempt to not only humiliate Otto but to endanger his son and, by extension, challenge Otto's influence in the court. Otto's gaze shifts from the field back to the royal box where you sit, and he notices the anxiety in your eyes as you watch Gwayne stand tall despite his defeat.

Otto's concern is not only for his son's welfare but also for the implications of Daemon's reckless actions. He can see how the prince's antics could destabilize everything he has worked for, and that thought is enough to push him into action. With a composed but determined stride, Otto makes his way to King Viserys, who sits at the center of the royal box, his expression a mixture of concern and detachment as he watches the aftermath of the joust.

"Your Grace," Otto begins, bowing slightly before taking his place at Viserys' side. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an undercurrent of urgency in his tone. "I cannot help but express my concern over Prince Daemon’s conduct. Choosing my son as his opponent was not merely a matter of sport—it was a deliberate act of provocation."

Viserys sighs, his gaze still fixed on the field. "Daemon is... spirited," he replies, attempting to sound nonchalant, though there's a hint of weariness in his voice. "You know how he is, Otto. He has always had a flair for the dramatic."

"Spirited?" Otto repeats, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice. "Your Grace, this was not mere dramatics. This was a calculated attempt to undermine the order of things. My son’s life was endangered, not out of competition, but out of spite."

Viserys finally turns to look at Otto, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You see threats where there are none, Lord Hightower. Daemon is my brother; he would not harm a fellow knight without reason. Gwayne is skilled, and I am sure Daemon respected that."

Otto suppresses a sigh, knowing that Viserys is, as always, reluctant to see the worst in his brother. "Your Grace, the prince's intentions were clear. He seeks to disrupt, to sow discord, and he has taken a particular interest in your youngest daughter, as you well know."

Viserys' expression hardens at the mention of you, but before he can respond, Otto seizes the opportunity to press his point. "I have proposed a match before, between Y/N and my son, Gwayne. He is a noble knight, honorable and devoted to the realm, and most importantly, he cares deeply for your daughter. Such a match would not only strengthen ties between our houses but also protect the princess from the whims of Prince Daemon."

Viserys shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearly not pleased with the direction of the conversation. "I am aware of your proposal, Otto, but I do not see the need to rush into any such arrangement. Y/N is still young, and I would not have her feel pressured into a marriage, especially one so clearly driven by political concerns.

"Your Grace," Otto insists, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, "this is not just about politics. It is about ensuring the stability of your realm, the safety of your daughter. Daemon is unpredictable, and his interest in Y/N is far from innocent. A match with Gwayne would provide her with the protection of an honorable man, a knight who would be devoted to her above all else."

Viserys' face tightens with frustration. "Daemon is my brother, Otto. He may be reckless, but he is no danger to Y/N. And as for Gwayne, I have no doubt of his virtues, but I will not be pushed into making decisions about my daughter's future based on fear and speculation."

Otto opens his mouth to argue further, but at that moment, a servant approaches the king, bowing deeply before leaning in to speak quietly into his ear. Whatever the servant says causes Viserys' expression to change instantly, the frustration and weariness replaced by a deep concern, and something close to dread.

"Your Grace," the servant says, just loud enough for Otto to catch the words, "I bring word from the Maester. The Queen's labor... it is not progressing well. The Maester has requested your presence."

Viserys pales, his attention immediately drawn away from the tournament and all other matters. The color drains from his face as the weight of the situation dawns on him. He rises from his seat, barely acknowledging Otto’s presence now.

"Excuse me, Otto," Viserys says, his voice strained, "I must attend to the Queen."

Otto watches as Viserys departs, a feeling of unease settling over him. The king’s concerns about Aemma are legitimate, of course, but Otto cannot help but feel that the danger Daemon represents is just as pressing. Yet, with Viserys now preoccupied, there is little more Otto can do at this moment. He watches the king hurry away, his thoughts a storm of worry and calculation.

As he returns his gaze to the field, where the tournament continues with all its noise and pageantry, Otto’s mind races. He knows that Daemon’s influence over his brother and his growing interest in you are threats that cannot be ignored. And while Viserys may not see the urgency, Otto knows that he must find a way to protect both his son and the realm. But for now, with the shadow of the Queen’s labor hanging over them all, any further plans will have to wait. 

Otto Hightower may be forced to wait, but he will not forget.

The gardens are quiet, bathed in the soft silver light of the moon. The air is cool, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers, yet you find no comfort in their fragrance. Your heart is heavy, weighed down by grief that seems too vast to bear. The funeral had been a somber affair, the pyres of your mother and brother burning brightly against the darkening sky, and now, even the flames have died, leaving only ashes and silence.

You wander through the gardens, seeking solitude, though the emptiness only magnifies your sorrow. The night is still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, and your thoughts are consumed by the images of your mother, Queen Aemma, and your brother, Baelon, who had lived but a single day. The grief presses down on you, almost suffocating in its intensity. You find yourself sinking onto a stone bench beneath a large, ancient tree, its branches reaching out like arms meant to offer comfort, but even nature seems distant tonight.

You barely notice the sound of footsteps on the gravel path until they draw close. When you finally look up, you see Gwayne Hightower approaching, his expression one of deep concern and sorrow. His presence, though unexpected, stirs something within you—an odd mixture of relief and anxiety. He slows as he nears, his armor glinting softly in the moonlight, but there’s nothing imposing about him now. His eyes, warm and kind, are fixed on you, offering a silent question.

With a quiet nod, you dismiss the Kingsguard who stands at a respectful distance, signaling that you wish for privacy. The knight bows and steps away, leaving you alone with Gwayne in the tranquil, shadowed gardens.

"Princess," Gwayne says softly as he reaches you, his voice gentle, laced with the same sorrow that you feel. "I hoped to find you… I thought you might need someone."

You look up at him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, and for a moment, you struggle to find your voice. When you finally speak, your words are choked with emotion. "They’re gone, Gwayne. My mother… my brother…"

He kneels beside you, taking your hands in his. His touch is warm, grounding you in the here and now, even as your heart aches with the loss. "I am so sorry, Y/N," he murmurs, his thumbs gently brushing over your knuckles. "I cannot imagine the pain you’re feeling, but know that you do not have to bear it alone."

You blink, a tear escaping to trace down your cheek. "But I am alone, Gwayne. Everyone I love… they keep leaving me." Your voice breaks, and you lower your head, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Gwayne’s hands tighten around yours, firm but tender, and he shifts to sit beside you on the bench. "You are not alone, not truly. I am here, Y/N. I will always be here for you, if you’ll let me."

There’s something in his voice, a quiet determination that draws your gaze back to him. You see the sincerity in his eyes, the deep, unwavering care he holds for you, and in that moment, a small part of your grief seems to lift, if only slightly. The loneliness that had seemed so overwhelming before begins to recede, replaced by a warmth that spreads through you, a connection that you hadn’t realized you needed so desperately.

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. The silence between you is no longer heavy with sorrow but filled with something softer, more comforting. After a moment, Gwayne speaks again, his voice low and earnest. "I promise you, Y/N, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are never alone. One day, I will marry you, and I will protect you, cherish you, for as long as I live."

His words catch you off guard, and you pull back slightly to look at him. "Marry me?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a hope you hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now.

"Yes," Gwayne says, his gaze never wavering. "I’ve cared for you for so long, and I know in my heart that you are the one I wish to spend my life with. I want to be by your side, to give you the happiness and security you deserve. I swear it."

Something inside you shifts, the despair you’ve been drowning in easing as you absorb the depth of his feelings. Without thinking, you reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. "You are too kind, Gwayne," you murmur, your voice trembling. "I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly as if savoring the moment. "You deserve everything, Y/N," he says softly, opening his eyes to meet yours once more. "And I want to be the one to give it to you."

The sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, it’s all too much. You close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is tentative at first, testing the waters of this new intimacy. Gwayne responds immediately, his kiss gentle but insistent, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for as long as he can remember.

The kiss deepens, the grief and sorrow you’ve been carrying melding into a need for comfort, for connection. Gwayne’s hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as the heat between you grows. The world outside of this moment seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

He pulls back slightly, his breath ragged, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice hushed, as if he fears breaking the spell between you.

In response, you nod, your heart racing. "Yes," you whisper, the word barely audible, but full of the longing and need that has been building within you. "I need you, Gwayne. Please."

With a tenderness that takes your breath away, Gwayne begins to undress you, his hands careful and reverent as if you are something precious, something to be cherished. You mirror his actions, your fingers working to remove his armor, his tunic, until there is nothing between you but the cool night air.

When he finally moves over you, his touch is gentle, mindful of your inexperience. There’s a brief moment of hesitation, of adjustment, as your bodies join, but the discomfort quickly gives way to something deeper, more profound. Gwayne pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he waits for you to relax, to adjust to the newness of this intimacy.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You nod, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pull him closer. "Yes, Gwayne… don’t stop," you murmur, your breath hitching as pleasure begins to build, slowly at first, then with increasing intensity.

He kisses you again, and as your bodies find a rhythm, the world narrows down to the sensation of his touch, the warmth of his skin against yours, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. The urgency between you grows, the need to escape the pain of the world in the solace of each other’s arms, until it all culminates in a rush of pleasure that leaves you both breathless.

In the aftermath, as you lie together in the cool grass, Gwayne holds you close, his hand gently stroking your hair. "I will marry you, Y/N," he whispers, his voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. "I swear it, on my honor as a knight. We will be together, always."

You smile softly against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, by the warmth of his promise. "I believe you," you whisper back, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion finally begins to claim you.

But as the night deepens, as sleep takes hold, the cruel hand of fate begins to weave its own tapestry. Despite the promises made beneath the stars, despite the love you share in this stolen moment, you do not know that the future holds other plans, plans that will tear you from this place, from this man who has given you his heart.

For this promise of marriage, of a future together, will never come to be.

The days following the funeral passed in a haze of mourning, with the weight of loss still hanging heavily over the Red Keep. The atmosphere was somber, with everyone moving about with a quiet reverence, as though the very stones of the castle themselves had absorbed the grief of its inhabitants. Yet, amidst this solemnity, a tension was brewing, one that threatened to shatter the fragile peace.

Daemon Targaryen, ever restless and unpredictable, had spent those days watching, biding his time. He had seen the way Gwayne Hightower had looked at you during the funeral, the way his presence seemed to linger near yours. And while most would dismiss it as nothing more than the attentions of a knight to his princess, Daemon knew better. He could see through the thin veil of propriety to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

When he finally confronted Gwayne, it was in one of the shadowed courtyards of the Red Keep, a place where the light of day barely reached and where secrets were often exchanged in hushed tones. Gwayne was alone, having just finished sparring in the yard, his armor still gleaming with the sweat of exertion. He was unprepared for the sight of Daemon emerging from the shadows, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Ser Gwayne," Daemon called out, his voice deceptively casual. "You seem to have made yourself quite at home here in King's Landing. But then again, Hightowers always know how to make themselves comfortable, don’t they?"

Gwayne stiffened at the sound of Daemon’s voice, his hand instinctively moving to rest on the hilt of his sword. He turned to face the prince, his expression wary but resolute. "Prince Daemon," he greeted, his tone respectful but with an edge. "What brings you to this part of the Keep?"

Daemon strolled closer, his every movement calculated, as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. "I couldn’t help but notice your... persistent presence near my niece. After our last encounter at the lists, I thought you would have taken the hint to back off. But it seems Otto's son is either very brave or very foolish."

Gwayne’s jaw tightened, but he did not back down. "My intentions towards Princess Y/N are honorable, Prince Daemon. My feelings for her are genuine, and they have nothing to do with my father’s ambitions."

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, the amusement in them fading to something colder, more dangerous. "Is that so? I find it hard to believe that anything a Hightower does is not meticulously planned. You expect me to believe that your affections are purely coincidental, that they have nothing to do with your father’s desire to bind your house to the blood of dragons?"

Gwayne took a step forward, his hand still on his sword, but he made no move to draw it. "My feelings for the princess are my own, born out of respect and admiration, not out of any scheme. I care for her deeply, and I would never use her as a pawn in some political game."

"Respect and admiration," Daemon repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "How noble of you, Ser Gwayne. But tell me, what will you do when Viserys refuses to allow this match? When he sees your father’s hand behind it and denies your request? What then, noble knight?"

Gwayne’s resolve did not falter, though he could feel the weight of Daemon’s words pressing down on him. "If the king denies me, then so be it. But know this, Daemon—my feelings for Y/N will not change. I will still care for her, still protect her, with or without a marriage."

Daemon’s lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes were anything but amused. "You speak of protection, but what you fail to understand, Ser Gwayne, is that she doesn’t need protection from me. It is your interference that could bring her harm. Viserys may be blind to many things, but he is not blind to his brother’s intentions. You think you’re the better man, the safer choice, but you’re just as much a threat as any other suitor."

Gwayne’s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white, but he held his ground. "I would never harm her. And I will not be frightened away by your threats or your insinuations, Prince Daemon. If you truly care for her as you claim, you would understand that what matters most is her happiness. If I can give her that, then I will fight for it."

Daemon’s smile vanished, replaced by a hard, calculating look. "You think you can win against me, Ser Gwayne? You think your noble heart and chivalrous intentions will protect you from the realities of the court? You may have convinced yourself that your love is pure, but love in this world is rarely enough. Blood, power, and the will to seize it—that is what drives the fate of men."

The tension between them crackled in the air, a palpable thing that seemed to thrum with the promise of violence. Gwayne stared Daemon down, unflinching, his voice steady as he replied, "I may not have your power or your blood, Daemon, but I have something you don’t—a heart that beats for her, not for ambition. And that is something you will never understand."

For a moment, they stood in silence, two forces at an impasse, each unwilling to yield. Then, with a flicker of something akin to grudging respect in his eyes, Daemon broke the stare, stepping back. He let out a low, dark chuckle.

"Perhaps you’re right, Gwayne," he said, his tone lighter but still laced with danger. "Perhaps I don’t understand. But mark my words—the day will come when you’ll see that love alone is not enough. And when that day comes, I’ll be there, watching as your noble heart shatters."

With that, Daemon turned on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he walked away, leaving Gwayne standing in the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Gwayne’s hand slowly relaxed from his sword, but the tension remained, coiled tight in his muscles, in his mind.

He watched Daemon disappear into the darkness, his thoughts racing. Daemon’s words had been like barbs, digging into him, and though he had stood his ground, the doubts had been planted. Gwayne knew that his path would not be easy, that the forces arrayed against him were formidable. But his resolve had not wavered. If anything, the confrontation had only strengthened his determination.

As Gwayne turned to leave the courtyard, his thoughts returned to you—to the promise he had made, to the love he felt for you that had nothing to do with his father’s ambitions or the politics of the realm. No matter what Daemon or anyone else said, he would not give up. He would fight for you, for your happiness, no matter the cost.

But as he walked away, the words Daemon had left him with echoed in his mind, a dark omen that he could not shake. The day will come when you’ll see that love alone is not enough. Yet still, he would fight. Because for you, he would endure anything.

[sunfyrisms]

oh the tragedy of gwayne and alicent hightower. the tragedy of alicent’s children.

gwayne was the eldest. the son. still, he was ignored and neglected. alicent was the daughter. the favorite. she was made a bride to a man nearly the same age as her father, both of whom she quite literally could not deny.

aegon is named after the conqueror. helaena is the dreamer. aemond is knowledgeable in the histories. all of alicent’s children are dragonriders. but regardless, they are doomed by existing. they will never receive the love of their father because none of them are not rhaenyra.

[slavicdelight]

The High Tower and the Dragon's Heir

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x male!Targ!reader

Summary: Lady Alicent Hightower was the closest friend of Princess Rhaenyra, yet she couldn't help but fall for her older brother, Y/N.

Warnings: none, following canon divergence

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Alicent Hightower gracefully strolled the corridors of the illustrious Red Keep, her morning lessons with her inseparable companion, Princess Rhaenyra, having just concluded. The echoes of footsteps accompanied her every stride as she made her way towards the luncheon appointment with her father, Ser Otto Hightower, the King's Hand. The castle bursted with vibrant activity—servants hurriedly carried out their duties, knights stood in vigilant postures, and nobles engaged in animated conversations, exchanging the latest court gossip.

As she ascended a majestic staircase, the voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Westerling, reached her ears. With a soft smile, Alicent reciprocated the courteous greeting. The anticipation of her father's chambers lingered in the air as she approached, each step echoing with the weight of her familial responsibilities.

However, the routine of her morning took an unexpected turn when, just before she reached the sanctum of her father, a sudden force collided with her, threatening to send her sprawling. A gasp escaped her lips, but before the cold stone floor could meet her, strong and reassuring hands prevented her from falling. These hands belonged to none other than Y/N Targaryen, the eldest son of the reigning monarch, King Viserys.

In that fleeting moment of unexpected encounter, the bustling ambiance of the Red Keep faded into the background. Alicent found herself lost in his gaze. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, and as Y/N steadied her with an effortless strength, Alicent's heart quickened, realizing that even in the most predictable corridors, destiny had an uncanny way of intertwining lives in an unexpected matter.

"Oh my, Lady Alicent. I'm so sorry; I didn't notice you," the young Prince expressed with a charming smile, nearly as enchanting as the prince himself. His gaze held a hypnotic quality that left Alicent momentarily flustered. Deep down, she possessed an immense fondness for him, but the fear of rejection and the potential repercussions from his younger sister stopped her from ever expressing them.

"No, my Prince. It was I who should've been more careful," Alicent nervously replied, her voice betraying a subtle hint of admiration. The unspoken tension between them lingered in the air. Her father's disapproval of the prince added a layer of complexity to the situation. Otto Hightower believed him to be the same as his uncle, Prince Daemon, hence the mutual hostility.

"Were you heading to your father, perhaps?" the prince inquired, his curiosity evident. Alicent hesitated, aware of the strained relationship between her father, Ser Otto Hightower, and the prince. Otto's opinions about Y/N's fitness for becoming king often clashed with the prince's aspirations.

"Yes, my prince," Alicent replied cautiously, choosing her words with care. The prince graciously took a step back, allowing her to continue her journey towards her father's chambers.

"Then do not let me stop you," he said with a small, understanding smile, his gaze lingering for a moment before gracefully descending the stairs, resuming his own path through the corridors of the Red Keep. That brief encounter, had left Lady Alicent soft in her knees.

Entering the Hand's chambers, Alicent immediately noticed her father seated at the table, a large variety of dishes laid out. She greeted him respectfully and took her place on the opposite side. "Alicent," he acknowledged with a nod, his eyes shining with a mix of sternness and affection. "How was your morning?" he inquired, motioning her to being eating.

"It was fine. I studied with the Princess the whole morning after breaking fast with her and Queen Aemma," Alicent replied, offering a light summary of her activities. The mention of encountering Prince Y/N on her way to her father's chambers prompted a subtle change in his demeanor. His brow lifted, and a stern look accompanied his response. "Prince Y/N is not a good influence. I advise you to avoid him," he coldly said, his voice carrying a weight of disapproval as Alicent cast her gaze downward. "Very well, father," she agreed, and the remainder of their lunch unfolded in a heavy silence.

As Alicent's thoughts drifted back to the violet-eyed prince, she couldn't comprehend her father's disdain for him. In her eyes, he was gallant and the epitome of a perfect prince. The unspoken tension between father and daughter lingered, leaving Alicent with a sense of conflict between her loyalty to her father and a growing curiosity about Y/N.

A fortnight later, the joyous occasion of a tournament took place in order to celebrate the King's anticipated new heir gripped the Red Keep. Nobles from far and wide were invited, marking the event as a grand affair. Queen Aemma, began her labours early in the morning, enduring the suffering alone, as King Viserys presided over the jousting festivities. Prince Daemon, displaying exceptional skills, unseated Alicent's brother Gwayne from his horse.

Victorious, the Prince then diverted his attention towards the stands where Alicent sat. With a charming smile, he asked for her favor, stating, "Lady Alicent, I'm sure your favor would ensure my victory today." Casting a fleeting glance at her father, Alicent handed Daemon her favor. Unbeknownst to her, a certain prince of the crown observed the exchange with a glare and a clenched jaw.

The joy of the tournament swiftly gave way to a somber hush when a messenger arrived bearing the tragic news of Queen Aemma's death. The atmosphere within the Red Keep became grim, mournful mood reigned for weeks. The funeral, held on a distant hill, marked a solemn occasion where the lifeless forms of the Queen and the young Prince lay upon the pyre, awaiting the embrace of dragonfire from Syrax and Shadowspine, the loyal companions of the Queen's surviving children.

Following the ceremony, Alicent found herself once again in her father's chambers, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. "How is Rhaenyra?" her father inquired, slight concern etched across his face. Alicent, her fingers idly picking at her fingers, replied, "She just lost her mother." The sorrow that lingered in her words mirrored the collective grief that shrouded the entire Keep.

Not being one to hide his ambitions, her father suggested, "Perhaps you would like to offer the King some comfort. Losing a wife is a terrible thing. He would surely rejoice in a visit." Alicent reluctantly agreed to undertake this solemn task, driven by her desire to please her father. As she turned to leave, she overheard her father's additional instruction, his voice low and laden with subtle implication—indicating that she should dress herself in one of her late mother's gowns.

Rather than heading to the King's chambers as initially intended, Alicent found herself standing before the doors that guarded Prince Y/N's residence. A guard announced her presence, and she entered, greeted by a scene of disarray. The room resembled the aftermath of a storm—furniture upended, decorations scattered in chaotic way. Amidst the disorder, she discovered her prince, seated on the floor, his back against the bed stand, his once-silky hair now tangled, and his eyes holding a haunted look. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air.

Taking a seat beside the prince, Alicent met his gaze, prompting him to question her presence with a strained voice, revealing the results of earlier screams. "I came here to see how you're holding up, my Prince," she replied calmly, her eyes scanning the wreckage around them. He only scoffed in response.

Drawing on her own experiences, Alicent shared, "When my own mother died, people looked at me with pity. I didn't want it. All I wanted was to hear they were sorry." Her empathetic words hung in the air, and she continued, "I'm so sorry for your loss, my Prince," concluding her condolences with a soft look, her eyes reflecting genuine compassion. Y/N stared at her in silence, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, as he began to unveil the weight of his heartache.

"My father's quest for a second son is to blame for this tragedy. He never considered me worthy of the throne," he confessed, his voice full of bitterness and sorrow. "He wished for another son, a better son. One he could put on the throne after himself. I was never enough. Rhaenyra wasn't enough. He killed my mother for a new heir. And now, my brother is also dead," he uttered.

Alicent's heart ached for him, the immensity of his suffering echoing through the confessions. Despite already bearing the responsibilities of being the Heir, this added layer of tragedy made the burden almost unbearable. In her earnest attempt to offer solace, she stood by both Y/N and Princess Rhaenyra, a pillar of support during these dark times.

As Y/N was officially declared Heir before the realm, Alicent stood steadfastly by his side, witnessing the unfolding of destiny. She remained present during the uncomfortable prospect of their father's remarriage, understanding the siblings hesitation. The more time they spent together, the threads of friendship between Alicent and Y/N began to intertwine with the delicate threads of love.

When the time came for the Prince to choose a wife, he declared his intent to marry Lady Alicent, much to Rhaenyra's dismay. While Viserys rejoiced in the prospect, Otto, though reluctantly, agreed to the union. Though not a fervent supporter of the Prince, Otto recognized the strategic significance—marrying his daughter to the future king ensured the placement of his bloodline on the throne.

The union of Alicent and Y/N was immortalized in what became known as the White Wedding. It was a testament to the pure and evident love that bound the newlyweds. The ceremony resonated with the harmonious union of two souls, their vows exchanged amidst the sacred walls of the Sept.

Shorty after their nuptials, the arrival of Aegon Targaryen marked a new chapter in the royal family. The beautiful boy, with the coloring of his father and the distinctive facial structure of his mother, embodied the perfect mix of the royal couple. Aegon, the newest Prince, became a living testament to the love that flourished within the Targaryen lineage.

As Alicent carried the weight of their second child, King Viserys sought to hold a celebratory hunt on his grandson Aegon's second name day. The relationships within the Targaryen family began to mend, albeit slowly, and the noticeable favoritism towards Rhaenyra, perhaps due to her resemblance to her late mother, didn't escape Y/N's notice. Despite the slight discomfort, he chose to focus on his growing family, diverting his attention away from the nuances of favoritism and concentrating on the joyous moments that bound them together.

The grand hunt orchestrated by King Viserys brought a sense of delight to Otto Hightower, who relished the opportunity for both entertainment and strategic alliances. The men, engaged in the pursuit of a White Hart—a symbolic creature representing royalty—set out with purpose, leaving the women to find solace within the safety of the camp.

As Alicent sat beside her husband, Y/N, who held their young son Aegon in his lap, an unexpected intrusion disrupted the peace inside the tent. Rhaenyra, the spirited Princess, burst in with determination, her grievances clear. Viserys, in his pursuit to secure her a suitable match, had orchestrated a connection with Jason Lannister, much to Rhaenyra's vocal displeasure. The fiery Princess asserted her autonomy, rejecting the notion of being treated as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

The repercussions of this confrontation left Alicent aware of the strain in her once-unbreakable bond with Rhaenyra. The princess, fueled by a desire to ascend to the throne, resented the twist of fate that seemingly diverted Y/N's affections toward Alicent, who had become the new Princess consort.

In the next years, Rhaenyra's fate took a turn as she was forced into a marriage with her cousin, Ser Laenor Velaryon, because of previous liaison with her uncle Daemon in a pleasure house that added further complexity to the situation. The marriage, arranged against her will, led to the birth of bastards, whom she attempted to pass as legitimate—a move not lost on the eyes of the court.

Despite Viserys's blindness, the court recognized the discrepancy in the children's Valyrian features. Whispers spread, hinting at a connection with Ser Harwing Strong, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, who served closely under the Princess.

These choices made by Rhaenyra made Alicent bitter. The apparent disregard for duty exhibited by Rhaenyra, coupled with the ability to evade consequences, fueled Alicent's resentment. Yet, in the face of this, the legitimacy of the children born to Y/N and Alicent remained unquestionable. The unmistakable resemblance of each child to their father nullified any potential doubts that might have arisen.

As their children matured, distinct personalities emerged, painting a portrait of the Targaryen legacy. Aegon, the mischievous firstborn, delighted in playing pranks and causing mayhem within the castle. Despite occasional mischief, his loyalty to the family prevailed, a testament to the intricate balance of his character.

Helaena, their only daughter, embodied sweetness and warmth. Though closed off to many, she harbored a great heart, often murmuring riddles that, while dismissed by most, held significance to her parents who recognized her as a dreamer with visions of her own.

Aemond, a mirror image of his father, shared not only physical similarities but also akin personalities. The only distinction lay in Aemond's shyness. His passion for history forged a special bond with King Viserys, who favored the small Prince. Their shared love for learning brought them together in frequent discussions about the boy's recent discoveries.

The youngest, Daeron, charmed all who crossed his path, earning the title of the most popular son among their subjects. His charm and charisma propelled him to Oldtown, serving his mother's uncle as a cupbearer and squire.

Amidst the dynamic growth of their children, Y/N and Alicent's love stood resilient. Any hopes Rhaenyra harbored of a falling out between the couple were in vain; their bond, an indestructible force, continued to strengthen.

The visible strain within the ruling family had spilled beyond the walls of the Red Keep, earning them the titles of "blacks" and "reds" among the common folk and nobility alike. Y/N, recognizing the fractures within his family, attempted reconciliation with his younger sister, but Rhaenyra remained consumed by anger towards him for marrying another and harbored resentment for Alicent, his wife for being said woman. The rift seemed irreparable.

Despite the familial tensions, Y/N maintained a close involvement in the training of his sons, personally overseeing their progress with the assistance of Ser Criston Cole, who had shifted his allegiance from Rhaenyra to the royal family. Aegon and Aemond exhibited remarkable progress, overshadowing their cousins.

During a training session, as Ser Criston instructed the young princes, Y/N was reluctantly pulled away by the demands of his duties as the Heir. King Viserys, observing from the terrace, keenly followed the lesson. The knight, calling upon Aegon, challenged him to a sparring match and taunted, "Let's see if you can touch me. You and your brother." The confident Prince, Aegon, responded with a cocky assurance, "I've won my first bound, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy."

Undeterred, Ser Criston introduced a new challenge, pitting both Aegon and Aemond against him. The two princes advanced, swords in hand, but the seasoned knight skillfully blocked each of their attacks, showcasing his experience and expertise. The training ground became a battleground of skills, the clash of steel echoing the intricate dynamics of power, loyalty, and the indomitable spirit of the Targaryen lineage.

The training ground, alive with the clang of swords and the shuffling of feet, fell into a momentary silence as Ser Harwin approached, offering instructions to the brown-haired princes. His voice redirected Ser Criston's attention toward the younger boys. "It seems like the younger boys could use your attention, Ser," Harwin remarked as he walked closer. A subtle tension hung in the air as Criston questioned, "Are you questioning my method of instruction?"

In response, Criston motioned for Aegon to face Jaecerys, declaring it an "eldest son against eldest son" spar. The white-haired Prince's age and strength became evident as he overpowered the younger Jaecerys. However, as Aegon advanced, he found himself roughly seized by the shoulder and pulled away by Ser Harwin. Aegon, outraged by the intervention, protested loudly, resulting in a reprimand from the King.

Tensions flared further when Criston began questioning the Commander of the Gold Cloaks's interest in the princes' training, suggesting affections that a man might harbor for his children. The insinuation proved too much for Ser Harwin, who snapped and attacked Criston. The incident led to Ser Harwin's banishment from King's Landing, and a few days later, he perished within the walls of Harrenhal along with his father.

More sorrowful news followed swiftly. A raven brought the grim information of Lady Laena Velaryon's death, casting a pall over King's Landing. The weight of Laena's death cast a somber shadow over Y/N, who had considered her another sister growing up. The entire family traveled to Driftmark to pay their respects, attending a funeral marred by Lord Vaemond's continuous accusations directed at Princess Rhaenyra and her bastard sons. Prince Daemon's laughter, strategically employed to deflect attention, added a layer of tension to the already heart-wrenching day.

Once the children retired for the night, Alicent found a moment to speak with her husband. In the quiet confines of their chamber, she gently inquired, "Are you alright, my love?" Y/N, standing by a window overlooking the view of Driftmark, confessed, "She was one of my closest friends, and she died alone. Without her family or friends, because Daemon denied her return. She didn't deserve such a fate."

Alicent, though not as intimately acquainted with Lady Laena, offered words of solace, acknowledging her bravery and kindness. Y/N, appreciating his wife's comforting presence, sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm sure you're right, darling," he said, caressing her face. In that moment, they found solace in each other's embrace, a comforting respite from the sorrow that permeated their hearts.

With a shared understanding, Y/N guided Alicent to bed, where they surrendered to the embrace of sleep, seeking refuge from the weariness that accompanied the emotional journey. Their intertwined forms, nestled in peaceful repose, reflected the enduring strength of their bond in the face of life's inevitable trials.

The tranquility that enveloped Y/N and Alicent was shattered abruptly when a maid, panic-stricken, banged on their door, delivering news of a grave accident involving their son. Swiftly dressing into presentable robes, they rushed towards the hall where their children were present. The sight that awaited them was horrifying—Aemond, their beloved son, was a bloody mess, missing an eye. Alicent's anguished scream pierced the air as she ran towards her injured child.

Demanding answers, Y/N interrogated the Knights, learning that the Prince had been mauled in a brawl with his cousins. The King, arriving on the scene, angrily questioned the guards for allowing such an incident. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys soon joined, but Y/N's attention shifted to the absence of Princess Rhaenyra. When she finally appeared, followed by Prince Daemon, their disheveled appearance hinted at a liaison that further fueled Y/N's anger. How could they disrespect Lady Laena's memory like this?

Amid the chaos, Rhaenyra declared the incident a "regrettable accident," but Alicent argued it was a planned attack. Rhaenyra defended her sons, claiming they were being attacked with vile insults against their legitimacy "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned on where he heard such slanders". Y/N's anger flared; his sister intended to torture his gravely wounded son over a truth that was evident.

Rhaenyra's attempt to extract information from Prince Aemond, who had heard the alleged slanders, only heightened tensions. Y/N, protective of his son, forbade any harm to befell Aemond. As the King sought apologies and forgiveness, Alicent snapped, demanding justice and ordering the eye of Lucerys Velaryon to conduct it. Chaos ensued as Alicent, fueled by rage, advanced towards Rhaenyra with a knife. Y/N noticed his uncle making way to two women to undoubtedly aid Rhaenyra, which he couldn't let happen and stopped him before Daemon could reach her.

The struggle between Alicent and Rhaenyra unfolded, the room becoming a battleground of emotions and grievances. In the midst of the chaos, Aemond, now with one eye, offered comfort to his mother, stating "Don't mourn me mother. I might've lost an eye but I gained a dragon". Y/N joined the embrace, and as his father declared the matter over, the fractured family clung to the remnants of peace amidst the aftermath of pain and turmoil.

As the years unfolded, the Targaryen family found solace and unity in each other's company. Every meal became a cherished time for discussion, laughter, and shared moments, further strengthening the familial bonds that had weathered storms and emerged resilient.

Aegon and Helaena's marriage flourished, blessed with their two beautiful children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aegon transformed into a caring and attentive husband, shedding his earlier tendencies to become the perfect Prince fit to one day ascend the throne. Aemond, despite the challenges posed by his limited vision, emerged as a formidable warrior under his father's tutelage. Determined not to be hindered by his condition, he trained with unparalleled dedication, surpassing many in skill and prowess.

Y/N and Alicent, beaming with pride, reveled in the achievements of their children. However, their joy was tempered by the somber responsibility that befell them. With King Viserys succumbing to sickness, he lay bedridden, casting a long shadow over the realm. The inevitable reality loomed—the time was approaching when a new monarch would ascend the throne.

Amidst the bittersweet echoes of Viserys's declining health, the Targaryen family stood united, ready to face the challenges that awaited them. The transition of power loomed on the horizon, and the legacy of House Targaryen stood at the threshold of a new chapter in the annals of Westeros.

The arrival of a raven bearing Ser Vaemond Velaryon's challenging petition for the Driftwood Throne thrust the Red Keep into a state of heightened anxiety. The assertion that Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children would return to the heart of the realm brought a cloud of unease over the castle, especially given the recent mysterious death of Laenor Velaryon.

In the midst of the commotion, Alicent navigated through the corridors toward the King's chamber, where she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon would be discussing the pressing matter of King Viserys's condition. Upon entering, she greeted them with courtesy, acknowledging the lapse of time since their last encounter. Daemon responded with a nonchalant hum, while Rhaenyra inquired about the authority overseeing the trial of her son.

A new voice cut through the tension as Y/N entered, a smirk playing on his lips. He revealed himself as the authority presiding over the trial, promising a fair judgment even as he acknowledged the accusations thrown at his wife. The room held its breath, and Alicent, standing beside her husband, added, "We have pressing matters to attend to, but please, make yourself at home." With that, the married couple walked away, leaving the guests to navigate the looming trial and the shadows of familial discord that cast their pall over the Red Keep.

The throne room buzzed with tension as the petitions unfolded, each speaker presenting their case before Y/N, who sat on the throne in his father's stead. The weight of judgment rested heavily on his shoulders. Lord Vaemond Velaryon was the first to address the court, delivering a lengthy discourse on bloodlines and the survival of House Velaryon.

However, the proceedings took an unexpected turn when, during Rhaenyra's turn to present her defense, the door opened, and in walked King Viserys. Ready to defend his favorite child, the ailing monarch cast a shadow over the proceedings. The air thickened with anticipation as the confrontation unfolded.

In a swift and brutal turn of events, Vaemond found himself condemned for openly declaring the princess's sons as bastards. The throne room, once filled with the echoes of legal arguments, now bore witness to the irrevocable consequences of familial discord and political maneuvering. As the lifeblood of House Velaryon spilled in pursuit of power and legitimacy, the court faced the stark reality that the struggle for succession and survival could exact a heavy toll on those entangled in the webs of Westerosi politics.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick with tension, mirroring the strained relationships within the Targaryen family. Viserys, lying in his seat of honor, served as the symbolic divide between two estranged siblings, Rhaenyra and Y/N, as the air was charged with unspoken grievances.

Jace and Luke, Baela and Rhaena, each engaged in their own conversations, while Aegon and Helaena shared a tender moment, the Prince gently rubbing his wife's hand. Aemond and Daemon, ever vigilant, sat observing, their tension a reflection of the underlying conflicts.

As King Viserys was carried in, the room stood in a display of respect. The king began his speech, adressing his family. “It’s good to see you all together. My heart aches when I see the faces dearest to me so full of envy and drifting apart form each other. House of the Dragon must be united, so let us forget all and stay strong. If not for the realm, the for this old man, who loves you all dearly.“ But the damage had been done, and the fractures within the family ran too deep to be easily mended.

Rhaenyra's toast, seemingly a gesture of reconciliation, momentarily shifted the mood. Alicent responded gracefully, highlighting the common ground between them as mothers, but the facade of harmony was shattered by a seemingly innocent gesture—a pig brought before Prince Aemond, triggering memories of the Pink Dread incident.

Aemond's explosive reaction disrupted the fragile peace. The room fell into an uneasy silence as he stood, expressing a "final tribute" to the health of his nephews, ending the speech with an insult towards the boys calling them "Strong". Chaos erupted as the young princes clashed, and the adults scrambled to intervene. The disastrous dinner culminated in Princess Rhaenyra's decision to retreat to Dragonstone, leaving behind a shattered illusion of family unity. The scars of the past ran too deep, and the once-grand gesture of a family dinner had unraveled into a painful reminder of the irreparable divisions within House Targaryen.

The dimly lit corridors echoed with quiet footsteps as Y/N made his way to his father's chamber. Upon entering, a solemn atmosphere enveloped the room, and Y/N approached King Viserys. As he assisted the ailing monarch in preparing for sleep, Viserys muttered incoherent phrases, and amidst the confusion, Y/N discerned a recurring theme—Aegon's prophecy.

In the hushed moments of their interaction, the weight of impending succession hung in the air. Viserys, in his final moments, seemed to impart a significant task to his son, urging him to fulfill the prophecy. The murmurings faded as the night unfolded, and King Viserys the Peaceful drew his last breath.

As dawn approached, the realm awaited the news of a new leader who would step forward to succeed the late monarch. The corridors, once traversed by Y/N in anticipation, now held the echoes of transition and the uncertainty that accompanied the changing tides of leadership within House Targaryen.

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A/N: This one is slightly longer, but I couldn't help but give Alicent and her kids the husband and father they deserved. We all could agree that Viserys absolutely sucked in these roles. Thank you for all the support and it would mean the world to me if you checked out my other works ♡

[horizon-verizon]

Viserys: Though it was some time ago. The details... they fade in memory. My father was a hale and healthy warrior and dragonrider at the peak of his abilities. Jaehaerys named a great royal hunt to celebrate him being named the Hand of the King. Five days later my father lay dead. Tourneys last longer. Baelon the Brave, rider of Vhagar, heir to the Iron Throne... dead of a burst belly. The gods have a dark wit. Otto: It was a grim day. I recall it all too well. Viserys I: It was a good day for you. Jaehaerys named you Hand in Baelon's stead. Otto: That's hardly how I viewed it, Your Grace. It was a duty. Viserys I: You served my grandsire nobly in his final days. You are the man that taught me how to be King. Otto: You honor me, Your Grace. Viserys: Just five days... you went from being another man in Jaehaerys's court, to the second most powerful man in the realm. I wonder... how long did it take you to choose yourself over your King? Otto: Your Grace? Viserys: I will never recover from Aemma's death. But Alicent... she took me through the worst of my grief. She was a calculated distraction. I only now realize how well-calculated it was. Otto: That is an absurdity. The Queen loves you... as I know you love her. Viserys: Your interests no longer align with those of the realm. Your judgment has been compromised. Otto: A loyal Hand must tell his king a discomforting truth from time to time, Your Grace. If he doesn't... he's failed as a servant. Viserys: You were a faithful servant, Otto. The Crown and the realm both owe you a debt that can never be repaid. But I can no longer trust your judgment.

HotD; Season 1, Episode 4; “King of the Narrow Sea”  

[n-i-m-u-e]

viserys: well, we're finally together and i know what will strengthen our family bond even more! it's time... alicent: no rhaenyra: no helaena: this is not a good idea jace: No! aegon: is this really necessary? rhaenys: no luke: i'm not quite sure… maybe we shouldn't? otto: your majesty, please, no aegon the conqueror:*from the grave* NO viserys:…to play monopoly like a big, happy family!!! daemon and aemond: OOH, THAT'LL BE EXCITING!

[imjulia-andilikecats]

It Runs in The Family

[lobotomiee]

Dark! House Of The Dragon x Reader...

WARNINGS: English is not my first language, I'm sorry if the story has some errors in the writing. This is my first time writing something, so bear with me please

SYPINOSIS: During the reign of Aegon I, the Conqueror, a large room was created with the purpose of being a place to offer the gods and receive their blessings in return. One night, during a visit from Aegon and Rhaenys, a star appeared in the sky, bright and mesmerizing. Among the offerings to the gods, under a large white silk cloth, was a child with crystal clear eyes. A gift from the gods to the Targaryens

☪ Maevon, fruit of the gods, was adopted by King Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya. Over time, his name came to derive from good luck and wealth for the kingdom. Abundant and healthy harvests, free from worms and rot, provided food and health to the citizens, while the king and his queens enjoyed constant joy, despite their strange possessiveness over the boy. However, fate, often capricious, would prove that not even something made by the gods was immune to tragedy. One night, in the middle of a waning moon, while the kingdom is still reeling from the death of Aenys, his half-brother, Maevon drank his cup of wine with his other half-brother Maegor the Cruel. However, the lethal poison, infiltrated without his knowledge, penetrated Maevon's body. The news of his death was hidden, but the gods were dissatisfied with such a barbaric act.

This tragedy left a trail of vengeance in the skies, causing a series of disasters for Maegor and his kingdom. Hunger was felt again among the people, while cold and long nights, full of diseases, ravaged the land. However, when Maegor himself, Maevon's killer, met his end, the fury of the gods finally subsided and the woes receded until they disappeared. In everyone's minds, Maevon represented the last gift of the gods, and as a tragedy, many believed that the gods forgot the kingdom, gradually leading them to destruction again.

...but it seemed like they were wrong....

During the reign of Viserys Targaryen, the ancient offering room, built to honor the gods, remained standing, bearing witness to the passage of time. Maevon's story still remained among the Targaryens and the people, occurring as a reminder of divine benevolence, even as generations passed, the memory of this heavenly gift still echoed throughout the lands of the kingdom, arousing interest and curiosity in other courts and kingdoms, spreading through reports and stories.

Meanwhile, in the hallways, Daemon walked through the castle, trying to calm down after a heated argument with his brother. Frustration and anger intended to gather in the air as he tried to break away from his dark thoughts. Deep down, he knew he needed to keep control of his desire to confront someone with his sword, but the urge to release all the anger built up or consumed inside. The targaryen stopped in front of the large offering room, a place he had seen countless times over the years. He had a deep dislike for the place, considering it a useless and purposeless space. His thoughts raced as he contemplated the idea of ​​demolishing the site, ignoring the history and traditions that sustained it. But at that moment, his attention was once again captured by the brightness of the big star that lit up the night sky, his gaze didn't linger long on her, soon picking up the wine from the offering that his brother, Viserys, still insisted on offering to the gods.

"Nonsense..." the word came out of Daemon as he drank the wine. while tasting the wine, he heard a small childish noise nearby, stopping drinking and looking around with his eyes stopping on a large basket covered in a white silk cloth with details on it, he doesn't remember seeing it there before. The targaryen approached cautiously, reaching out to lift the silk cloth covering him. A curiosity in his mind compelled him to discover what could be hidden beneath the fabric. With a slow, cautious movement, he slowly removed the cloth from the basket, prepared to discover what awaited him inside.

Daemon's eyes widened in surprise when he saw you. Before him stood an adorable little baby, whose crystal clear eyes slowly opened as they woke up with the removal of the cloth. However, Maevon's story came to Daemon's mind, although he was always skeptical of its true meaning. A mixture of bewilderment and fascination came over him as he examined the baby, but the only thing that went through his head when he looked at you was "protect" which repeated itself in his head several times. When you looked at him and let out a cute giggle, he quickly smiled and took you in his arms. Now you would be his lovely little girl

• The first person Daemon showed right after meeting you was Rhaenyra, she felt a strange feeling when she saw you, the gods sent you to her, to be the beautiful daughter she can never have.

• The news that the gods had sent another precious gift as a second chance spread that very night. All the Targaryens gathered in the great room wanting to see you up close.

• An argument created by Alicent, who believed that Daemon had stolen you from her, as she was the one who went every night with Viserys to leave offerings for the gods, so you were hers as a gift for the faith she had in them, but that led nowhere, Daemon was willing to use his sword for you.

• Viserys tried to make a deal with Daemon and Rhaenyra which was quickly rejected.

• The velaryon, Corlys and Rhaenys tried to convince the two Targaryens to leave you with them, for a better education, but without success. Rhaenyra and Daemon were determined you were theirs.

• Years passed and you grew up together with your half-siblings, Jacaerys and Lucerys. You became a girl of rare beauty, black, soft and smooth skin, long white, curly hair that reached her hips and large crystalline eyes, which some said were worth more than anything. Her angelic features were adorned with a gentle and sweet expression. You were a notable figure in the seven kingdoms, being the crush of many boys, including even your half-uncles Aegon II and Aemond. Since his arrival, good harvests appeared, illnesses were much less frequent, health was present in everyone in the kingdom. You were the apple of the people's eyes, their miracle.

• Daemon and Rhaenyra were still very possessive of you a lot more as you grew up. His food was often watched by someone super trustworthy, so that poisoning attempts would not happen again. They gave you a dragon, which you loved very much, spending a lot of time with it, flying through the skies away from everyone, you named it Belial, he had a dark bluish tone, great for hiding at night and had green eyes. Your fire had a peculiar color being purple, but it is still growing just like you.

• When you met the redhead's children for the first time, the first one you spoke to was Aemond, you just said a shy “hi” to him and he responded back with a small smile.

• Haelena likes to admire your eyes, saying that she dreams of you, that she dreamed that one day you left and never came back. You calmed her down saying that this will never happen

• Aegon was bolder, speaking first, hugging you and throwing compliments. Jace and Luke almost tore their own hair out when they saw such a scene.

• You are also very close to Baela and Rhaena, joking, telling secrets while you braid their hair.

• Alicent still looks from afar jealous at Rhaenyra for stealing her beautiful baby, but she would have you in her arms.

• Corlys brings you gifts, always telling you that you would be fine if you wanted to move in with them. Rhaenys always helped him with his dragon and many other things.

• You spend time with Viserys, he likes it when you call him Grandpa, such a lovely and obedient granddaughter. Always checking to see if he is ok or helping him.

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and that's it, I thought it was too short, in the middle I ended up running out of creativity but I hope you at least like it, even if just a little

[mysticalcatpeanut]

Just wanted to point out, Arrax (Lucerys' dragon) is also son of Syrax (Rhaenyra's dragon)... so both mothers are mourning in this scene