Joffrey Velaryon - Tumblr Posts

Sometimes a family can be just a milf, her gay husband, her himbo, and their collective three sons. *Modern Family intro starts playing*

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“Our uncle calls us Strongs, but when the lords see us on dragonback they will know that for a lie. Only Targaryens ride dragons.”  

Mushroom tells us that the Sea Snake grumbled at this, insisting that the three boys were Velaryons, yet he smiled as he said it, with pride in his voice.

VELARYON BROTHERS

The Velaryon Princes

Artwork by @lycheesodas (twt/ig)

It's so telling that TG and Alicent stans constantly undervalue the lives of Rhaenyra's children. They scream feminism and progressiveness until it comes to the Medieval hatred of bastards. Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey are children who died because the Greens usurped their mother. Lucerys was thirteen when he was eaten alive by Vhagar, Jacaerys was sixteen when he was killed by crossbow bolts, and Joffrey was 13 when he fell from Syrax and ripped to shreds by looters. How is this horror so easily excused by TG in the name of their rapist king, his power hungry mother and grandfather, and his war mongering brothers? Of course the deaths of Helaena and her children are tragic, none of the Team Black characters deny this (except maybe Daemon). Rhaenyra condemned the actions of Blood and Cheese and gave Maelor a Targaryen burial. She never discounts their deaths because they are the usurper's blood. Also how are Lucerys and Joffrey not innocent children? They didn't fight in any battles, they never killed anyone, Lucerys' greatest crime was protecting his brother. Fuck, if they count Alicent as a child bride at 16, then Jacaerys was child too. None of Rhaenyra's children deserved death and their lives are no less important because their parents (in the show) weren't married and it's monstrous to believe that.

A fantastic example of the TG hypocrisy and how they're "totally not sexist" is how Rhaenyra is criticized left and right for having a lover, meanwhile Harwin, Laenor, and even Daemon aren't criticized for their extramarital affairs (I'm including Harwin because he did still participate in an affair, he just wasn't the one married).

Greens have written fucking essays about why Rhaenyra is such an awful person for sleeping with Harwin and having and raising bastards. Harwin never catches the same shit, I mean he literally sired the Jace, Luke, and Joff (allegedly in the book). Yet, TG pretty much leaves him alone, focusing exclusively on Rhaenyra, despite the fact that Harwin chose to have an affair with the married heir to the throne. Isn't that just as immoral according to their precious Faith?

Then there's Laenor. Being gay is a sin in the eyes of the Faith, just as much as having an affair and having bastards. But I don't see any metas about how "in the culture this is perceived as wrong therefore..." No, instead they just focus on Rhaenyra. Again, there's no mention about how Laenor is a "whore" for having an affair with Qarl or for sleeping with Joffrey before marriage. Then there's the fact that Laenor is the accepted father of Alyn and Addam, meaning that, in the eyes of Westeros, he had bastards.

Daemon is hated by the Greens, which makes sense, he is their greatest opponent after Rhaenyra herself. However, for everything they hate Daemon for, none of them are about Mysaria, the fact that she was pregnant with his bastard in the book, or that he was speculated to have slept with Nettles and Mysaria after his marriage to Rhaenyra. Sure, they talk about his abuse and how badly he treated Rhea in the show, but they never bring up his many affairs. After all, Daemon frequented the KL brothels all through his marriage with Rhea, but apparently that's fine?

Then there's the fact that their favs have engaged in infidelity. Aegon constantly in the brothels and his habit of raping servant girls. Aemond, betrothed to Floris Baratheon, asleeping with (raping) Alys Rivers and getting her pregnant with a bastard as well as the Helaemond theories. And Alicent's "transactions" with Larys, began happening before Viserys died and still count as sexual infidelity.

I'm bringing all this up in order to highlight just how hypocritical TG is. They constantly berate and call Rhaenyra a whore because of Jace, Luke, and Joff. The only thing that separates Rhaenyra from Harwin, Laenor, and Daemon is that she is a woman. And the fact that TG excuses the horrible actions of Aegon and Aemond as well as Alicent's indiscretions, shows that they aren't interested in actual morality (wrong that would be). They also clearly aren't concerned with the Faith's morals, for the reasons stated. That leaves the true reason for their hatred of Rhaenyra and fixation on the Velaryon boys: misogyny. They hate the image of a woman with control over her body, power of her own, and who challenges patriarchal roles.

Rhaenyra and Motherhood

Motherhood is an integral part to Rhaenyra's character, both in the show and the book. So many of her actions are based on her children and her legacy is carried by her sons Aegon III and Viserys II. However, her antis are obsessed with removing motherhood from her character or claiming that she was simply a bad mother.

Rhaenyra's motivations throughout the Dance were driven by her love for her children. From the loss of Visenya fueling her desire to reclaim her throne to Joffrey's death causing her to return to Dragonstone. Even before the Dance, Rhaenyra's desire to protect her children was part of her motivation for marrying Daemon so quickly.

Despite these facts, Rhaenyra's antis always want to portray Rhaenyra as a selfish woman who doesn't care about her children and only wants power and to get laid. They blatantly ignore how Rhaenyra loves her children so completely.

Rhaenyra raised Jace to be someone even Mushroom agreed would be a great king. He was kind, intelligent, protective, a good military strategist even at fourteen, and a skilled fighter. Even though the show decided to give many of his attributes to Aemond, he's still a good man and much wiser than his older uncles. He was also respectful towards women and had a good relationship with Baela.

Lucerys was greatly loved by Rhaenyra, in the show she calls him her sweet boy. She raised Luke to be a kind and brave boy, he was respectful to Rhaena and had a sweet relationship with her. He was protective of his siblings and just wanted to make his mother proud.

Joffrey was a brave boy, perhaps too much for his own good. He wanted to defend what was left of his family, which led to his untimely death. But in life he was loved by his siblings and Rhaenyra and she was fiercely protective of him.

"Nor would she suffer to be parted from Prince Aegon, her last living son...day and night the boy remained by her side like a small pale shadow."

Even though the show hasn't yet given us any stills of Rhaenyra and Aegon the Younger, we know a lot about their relationship from the book. After the deaths of her other children, Rhaenyra held Aegon closer than ever. He grew to be a good king, despite his severe PTSD. He was firm with his advisors, stabilized the realm after the Dance, strove for peace, visited the sick, and tried to bring back dragons using magic. The only reason he isn't remembered fondly is because he wasn't happy or interested in kissing up to the lords.

Due to Viserys' age at the time of the Dance and his subsequent separation from his family, we don't know much about his relationship with Rhaenyra. But we do know that his disappearance was greatly grieved by her and that he was very close to his brother Aegon. Regardless, Viserys was a good king and such a skilled politician he was compared to Jaehaerys himself.

Visenya may have been stillborn, but she was greatly loved by Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra's only daughter, she was mourned greatly by her parents and it was her loss that helped spur Rhaenyra in her desire to reclaim her throne.

Motherhood is one of the key aspects of Rhaenyra's character. Her trauma revolving around the tragic death of her mother makes her love for her children and happiness as a mother even more compelling. She was at her happiest when she was able to live with her beloved husband and children unbothered by the Greens. She deserved to reign with her children around her. Their loss destroyed her emotionally and removed any hope Aegon and Aemond had for mercy from her or her faction.

Even though the misogyny of Westeros prevented her from being remembered as a true queen, her children are still fondly remembered. It's through them her legacy and final victory over the Greens live on, and the Green stans hate that so they try to remove her connection to her children. But their efforts are as useless as their favs, as Rhaenyra's legacy is alive and well in ASOIAF through Daenerys and their beloved usurper and his bitch mother are only remembered as war mongers and power hungry thieves.

team green stans after arguing for forty five minutes on how rhaenyras older kids lives mean less because they are bastards (stop. its weird.):

They're so self-righteous and obsessed with their skewed morals that they don't even realize they've regressed into the Medieval views. TG stans (especially Alicent stans) will go on and on about feminism and how Rhaenyra isn't "actually a feminist". Meanwhile they want a man to usurp the female heir and for Westeros to stay that way because women should suffer silently.

The bastardphobia is definitely the most telling viewpoint though. They'll talk about how monstrous Daemon and Rhaenyra are, then turn around and dehumanize Rhaenyra's sons just because they were conceived out of wedlock. They'll support Alicent in calling them savages and blame them for Aegon's bullying even though they were seven and six. They agree with Aegon that Luke's death should be celebrated. They'll agree with Alicent that Jace's life is worth less than her "trueborn" grandsons.

TG don't actually care about the realm and the people, they don't even care about a six year old child. The decision to view Jace, Luke, and Joff as subhuman is disgusting and just shows how disturbed their point of view is.

TG stans constantly complain about how "Rhaenyra was a threat" to Alicent's children. What I find interesting about that is not once in any scene of HOTD does Rhaenyra threaten her siblings' lives. Meanwhile, Alicent and her sons threaten Rhaenyra's children's lives in almost every scene they're in/discussed.

In episode 5: Alicent summons barely born Joffrey to her chambers; knowing how vulnerable newborns are. Criston pits teenage Aegon against prepubescent Jace and Aegon would have seriously hurt Jace if not for Harwin's interference. Alicent harasses both Viserys and Aegon about how Rhaenyra's children are bastards; something that could very likely lead to them being executed or exiled if Viserys chose to listen to her.

In the scene where Aemond loses his eye, that happens because Luke was trying to defend his brother. Aemond not only was about to bash Jace's head in with a rock, but also was screaming about how he and Luke would die screaming like Harwin. Then Alicent tries to stab out Luke's eye, something that would kill him (she was holding the knife to thrust it down and stab, not slash like Luke did).

From the first episode Rhaenyra's children are present, Alicent and the other greens are threatening their safety and lives. Even in the scenes TG stans point to the most often as "evidence" of the "danger" posed to Alicent's children, it's Jace and Luke who are actually in danger of being killed. It's Rhaenyra's sons who are being constantly threatened by the greens and it's her son who is killed first in the Dance. The greens are the ones who threaten and kill innocent children, not Rhaenyra.

I really don't understand why people are going after Jace/Sara because of Baela and how she would react to their relationship.

First of all we're not even sure Sara is going to be in hotd 2 in the first place, since her affair with Jacaerys is not something we are certain actually happened, yet people are hating on her as if she were 100% in the show and it's dumb.

Don't say a character doesn't exist in the story and then hate on it as if it did, you're just exposing your insecurities lmao.

Second even if they get together next season Baela and Jace are never going to get married anyway,as we all now he's going to kick the bucket before they're wed.

Had the show shown them being cute together, developing a crush on one another and talking about how they are looking forward to their wedding then I would have understood the hate and mayybe I would have agreed that adding Sara would only ruin the ship and piss off the fans.

But it doesn't happen!

They barely talk, and Jace apologizes to Baela before dancing with Helaena. Some would argue that he defended her against Aegon's shitty comments but that's something anyone with a braincell would do.

That's it.

Twitter is up in flames for this? Wow

At least Sara would add to Jace's character. He could bond with another bastard, we could get his inner thoughts regarding his mother and her affair with his dad, we could see her showing him around Winterfell while he rides his dragon!

If well made this could potentially be super interesting and finally make me care about one of Rhaenyra's kids.

His marriage with her could also represent a sort of wake up call for Rhaenyra.

Damn she would finally realise that her actions have consequences! That teaching your sons that they are inherently superior to everyone else because they are Targaryens and the rules don't apply on them has consequences!

She didn't abide by the rules cause she was daddy's little princess who could do no wrong and was almost never called out on it, now she would have to come to the realization that this affected her son, who now also thinks he can break his marriage pact and get with whoever he pleases, without getting shit for it.

Pleas HBO deliver!

Guuys i'm back! And with the finest team black arguments in town! Today our contestant is:

"Alicent is an evil bitch for trying to expose Rhaenyra's sons as bastards, she could have gotten them killed!"

This one is surprisingly popular amongst the blacks, but unsurprisingly dumb. And I'll say why:

First things first, can someone explain to me the reason behind everyone's belief that the strong boys would be killed for this? They are just kids, who took no part in Rhaenyra's lies regarding their legitimacy. The poor children actually believed they were Laenor's sons! (Well except Jace but whatever.)

The real culprits in this mess are their parents, who willingly had them while being fully aware that if exposed on their bs they would be punished. The boys wouldn't be harmed at all, the worst thing that would happen to them would be losing the Velaryon family name, becoming Waters, and getting kicked off the line of succession.

Sucks for them but definitely better that a sword in the neck.

Speaking of their parents. Nyra would have to be disinherited for attempting to put her baseborns on the throne, cheating on her spouse and generally bringing so much shame to the royal family.

Sucks for her too, but you know, reap what you sow girl. You knew the risks.

The one who would actually face serious consequences would be Harwin, for sleeping with the princess and all. Normally he would probably have to be executed, but not before being given the chance to take the black, which he would definitely pick.

So yeah, sucks for you sure, but you keep your head, your dick, and only lose your inheritance. Lmao on second thought this would be a better alternative for him, Larys wouldn't have to kill him to inherit, and he'd be freezing his ass on the wall instead of burning it in Harrenhall.

Happy ending for Lord Strong.

And with that said Alicent would not be causing the deaths of innocent kids and would be able to secure the future reign of her son, so why exactly would that make her an evil selfish bitch? When has trying to avoid your children's inevitable execution at the hands of their half sister been a bad thing?

Team black only really wants Ali to bend over and die, just so that their feminist queen can take over lol. They unironically demand a woman to give up all her agency for someone else, how progressive of them.

Funny how I made this long ass post explaining how Nyra would have to face the consequences of her actions for once in her life but obviously this would only happen in an au where Vizzy was an actual competent king who didn't just live to give his "only child" all that she asks him to.

In our timeline he would just keep denying their bastardry and cutting tongues of all who disagree. And if it became impossible for him to deny reality anymore, he would immediately pardon Nyra and Harwin and legitimize the Strongs, then promptly pretend that nothing happened. It would be infuriating, but also hilariously bad ngl.

I'm genuinely weirded out by team black fans that are so obsessed with the whole team Nyra vs team Aegon war that they feel bad for liking a character from an opposing faction.

Like those who say shit like:

"Oh Haelena is adorable! She's the ONLY green I like ^⁠_⁠^"

Or

"Aemond is such a hot and interesting character 😍. But g-guys I'm still 100% team Rhae Rhae don't worry about it!"

Bro why are you saying it like it's a bad thing?We're not actually living in Westeros. You won't be thrown in the black cells for treason or something.

I'm personally team green ftw but that doesn't make me feel bad for liking a lot of black characters! It's quite shocking that a lot of fans don't get this. You would enjoy this show a lot more if you stopped mindlessly hating on your "enemies".

TEAM BLACK ICONS - 2.01

Like or reblog if you save any icons<3

screencaps by @neverscreens 🤍

TEAM BLACK STILLS FOR HOTD 2.06

Yes.

Me, someone who was adopted by my mom's husband when I was a baby reading all the comments from TG stans bitching and moaning about how Lucerys, Jacaerys and Joffrey aren't Laenors kids even though he claimed them as his own because they didn't come from his nuts

I have the theory that TG doesn't know basic biology, because they bitch and moan about Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey being bastards

Yes, there is a possibility that they might be bastards, but it has always been a 50/50 thing you know why? Because Aemma is an Arryn, and with a quick internet search you can see that Aemma's father had dark hair and if you know how genetics works it mean that there is a possibility that Laenor's sons are his

you'll change your name or change your mind (and leave this fucked up place behind)

summary: When the King’s Justice — the royal executioner — died, the Realm’s Jewel proposed a perfect replacement: Nādrēsy, her dragon, the infamous Cannibal. Even if many eyebrows were raised at the Small Council, the King hastily agreed, happy to have an excuse for keeping his granddaughter close to him, even if it was for only a few days every moon. Or, as it always ended up, for a bit more than that.

pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader (no use of y/n), platonic (familial) relationship between the targs/velaryon and reader

word count: 5.3k

warnings: angst, death, grief, implied suicidal thoughts, reader's having a teenage rebellion moment at the young age of barely nine, daemon slander (it will get better i promise)

author's note: i don't really like this chap lol. in fact, i fucking hate it

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Your father has a haunted look on his face. 

He holds you for hours as you cry, pass out, wake up and start crying again, nestled in your bed still bandaged, the wound on your head hurting more than ever. Milk of the poppy only makes you comatose and the migraines are making your head explode, and he doesn’t really know what to do.

He’s lost, he lost his sister and almost his daughter in less than a sennight, and probably feels like a terrible father for not being there when you needed him the most. But thankfully, in a day or two your crying stops; you seem to have understood that the more you cry, the more your pain worsens.

“My little girl,” he coos, taking you to the balcony and holding you in his arms. “I promise nothing bad will ever ever happen to you from now on, not while I’m here.” 

Nādrēsy is always buzzing out of your window, waiting for some kind of sign from you; that’s why Laenor often brings you to the terrace, other than to get some fresh air. To calm your dragon, who has been destroying everything that comes in his sight for the last few days. Soon enough you are finally sleeping again, and slowly, the bandages get less and less bloody: the wound is closing. 

“Do you think I will ever find a husband?” you murmur quietly to him one evening, cuddled close to his chest. He looks down at you, questioning. “I mean… with the hideous scar I’ll be left with, nobody will ever want to marry me.”

“My love,” Laenor says, eerily calm. “If someone doesn’t want to marry you because of a measly scar, then you shouldn’t even consider them. Real men aren’t scared of scars, nor are they repelled by them, as they probably have many. Besides, your beauty hasn’t even been tainted the tiniest bit.”

He boops your nose, earning your first laugh since a while. “How could you ever lose your beauty? You have taken it allll from me. And it’s not going to fade any soon — in fact, it’s only going to bloom more and more as you grow, and as much as I would like to hold you in my arms forever, I can’t wait to see you blossom into a fine woman.”

The Grand Maester visits you every hour — per your grandsire’s request — and checks your wound, who slowly but surely is getting better and better every day. Viserys is already informing himself about headpieces that could hide the scar and is worrying about in having them made by the best goldsmiths of Westeros, and even if the scar will always be there, the thought of hiding it makes you feel a bit easier. 

To take your mind off of the last few days your grandsire lets you sleep in his quarters — on his king sized bed — happily reading you tales about Old Valyria and telling you stories of the great Balerion. He’s taken to sleeping on the daybed by the bed, worried that you’re going to bleed out to death or something like that, and it is only upon Corlys’ pressing that he agrees to the servants bringing another bed to the chambers so that he can sleep there. 

Your parents look relieved for the first time in weeks, visiting you everyday with the maesters, making sure the pain has subdued and you are well. Your father pinches your cheeks and your nose, reminding you that your sword is set to arrive on your ninth nameday — which isn’t that far — and your grandsire promises to call for yet another big celebration in your honour. It boosts your mood to another level, so Rhaenyra for once in her life is actually happy about her father downright spoiling you rotten. 

But soon enough, your grandsire and uncles have to leave for King’s Landing; he has duties to attend to, and they have prolonged their stay for too much time already. Helaena will stay with you and return to Dragonstone with her own dragon when the time comes — and you pretend to not notice the look he gives Alicent when he says that, like it’s a punishment meant for her. 

Punishment or not, you’ve never seen your aunt happier. She says that by being betrothed to Jace, she has just avoided marrying Aegon, which she is ecstatic about. She’s making a point of bonding with Rhaena and Baela as well, often inviting you all to her chambers to embroider or take some tea together. Things are going back up again, but before you can really get back up on your feet, tragedy strikes again.

You are taking a walk with your grandparents right after supper, happily trotting around High Tide like you own the place, when a servant calls for the Lord and Lady Velaryon to immediately follow him to their chambers. 

Neither the sight of your father’s burned body by the fireplace nor the screams of your grandmother will ever get out of your head. 

“In my own chambers!” your grandfather screams, enraged, breaking vases and making servants and guards flinch. “How could you allow this to happen? How?!”

Nobody seems to care enough about you to get you out of the room — with your grandfather going mad and your grandmother lost in her own grief — and as you stare longer and longer at the burned face of your father, where his eyes once were, you suddenly realise why Nādrēsy prefers her preys raw or alive. He doesn’t even look like your father; all that’s left unscathed on his body is the medallion around his neck and the ring in his left hand. 

You don’t have the courage to say anything, but your throat feels raw, the screams of Rhaenys and Corlys melting into one in the back of your mind. Is that even your father? You wouldn’t know, his face is deformed beyond recognition. But the hands are not, and— yes. Those are the same hands that held you non-stop just a fortnight ago. 

You spent an entire lifetime knowing his face, just for him to end up dying with another one.

You fall to your knees, taking his hand in yours, hoping he squeezes back. When he doesn't, it all clicks; this is real. Your father is dead. Laena has brought him with her.

“Father,” you murmur. “Father,” you say louder, shaking his body. The fabrics are still hot and melting, and they stick to your fingers and burn your hands, but you don’t care. “Please,” you beg. With who are you talking — the Gods, the sea, old Valyrian Gods? You have no idea. You just hope someone, anyone, will listen to your prayer.

Nobody hears. 

You’re ripped from your father’s body by rough hands, and it takes you a moment to understand that it’s once again Daemon, holding you back once again. “No!” you scream, hysteric, and only now you notice that your mother and brothers are by the door, behind them your cousins and Helaena. It seems you weren’t the only ones the servants called. “No, no, my father–”

“Your father is dead,” it’s said with an unnerving and cruel calm — the calm only someone who has stopped crying for his parents a long time ago can have. “No tears nor hysterics from you will ever change that.” you ask yourself if he has told that to his daughters, too, when their mother died, because if so you’re pretty sure Rhaenys would love to have a little talk with him. 

Your cries only get louder, and as you trash in his hold you deliver a good kick to his shins. He gasps, letting you go and going to cover with his hands the hurt area. “You little–”

Before you can run up to your father again, it’s Corlys who stops you, caging you in his arms and kneeling down. “He’s gone, sweetling,” he murmurs delicately, tears in his eyes. “Shh, shh, everything’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

It’s not.

Nothing’s okay as days later Corlys recites his eulogy, nor when your father’s corpse is thrown in the waters below High Tide, in the same place where his sister was thrown just weeks ago. Your father has died, and for what? A stupid jealousy spat, as Ser Qarl put it? You hope he had a bad time in Nādrēsy’s mouth and stomach, at least half as bad as what you’re going through right now. 

After the funeral you’re in shambles, finding yourself in the same position where Laenor once was: down on your knees in the water, crying your heart out alone. Your brothers had tried to follow, your mother to stop you, but it was all in vain. Your father now belongs to the sea, so to the sea you’ll go for comfort, as you once did with him. 

“Why?” you ask. You don’t know exactly who you are talking to — the sea, to the Old Gods of Valyria or the Seven. “Weren’t Laena and Harwin enough? Hasn’t our family already suffered more than is necessary?”

A storm is clearly brewing, with the salt waters unclear and high waves in the distance. A thunder almost replies to you, making your eardrums shake and your head hurt. “He was kind, gentle and loving,” you weep, “why did you have to take him away from me?”

This time, no response is heard from the sky — there's only the thundering of the waves, who are getting more and more violent, and you take it as your father sensing your pain.

In the days following Laenor’s death and funeral, you do not eat, talk, or get out of your room. You stay bundled up in bed, the same bed where once he had comforted you, and you do not even find in yourself the strength to cry — nor the tears, as you’ve shed an abnormal amount of them in the last fortnight. 

Every day three times a day a servant comes in with a tray and begs you to eat, then leaves the tray filled with food and water on your nightstand, hoping that you will eat something. You barely do. 

Often they leave some letters, too, and leave them on a stack on your settee; they’re all the condolences the lords and ladies of Westeros are sending you, surely, and at least half of them have the Targaryen emblem, meaning your grandfather — who missed the funeral — is probably growing antsy. 

Sometimes your family knocks at the door, and that’s the only moment you get out of bed — to lock the entrance. You do not have the heart to look at your grandparents in their faces, nor your mother or brothers. You fear you’ll find disappointment in their eyes — that they’ll search for your father in your features and will be able to find nothing. The scar is still new and red, and as of now, is as noticeable as ever, even with the bandages.

This trance lasts for almost a sennight, until one day you get up, put on your nightgown and venture down into the kitchens. The hour is late, but not late enough for servants to already be in bed, so you’re not surprised to find them still bustling with pots and pans. 

One of them almost screams once she sees you. “Your Grace!” she yells, spooked, all of them hurriedly and clumsily bowing. “May– may we help you with something?”

Your eyes are dull. “Are there any lemon cakes left?” there are no lemon cakes in the trays left in your chambers.

Soon after you’re sitting on a little crooked chair, eating the lemon cakes that were left from dinner, as they all stand away, staring at you scaredly. You realise they are waiting for some kind of response. “They’re good,” you tell them, voice raspy. 

The servant from earlier nods hesitantly. “We– we’re happy to hear that, Your Grace. Should I… should I call for the guards? To escort you back to your chambers?”

“No,” you murmur, finishing the cake and getting back on your feet. You sincerely hope nobody has seen you, because you don’t want stares from anyone in your family, not if they’ll look at you like the servants are doing right now. “I don't need one.”

The walk back to your chambers is quiet and dark, as the corridors are barely lighted by the torches, and you make sure to lock the door to your chambers once you enter. You spare a glance at the letters on the settee, and think that maybe it is time to read them.

As you predicted, half of them are from your grandsire, made of begs for forgiveness for his absence and memories about his own father’s death, also mentioning that the headpiece he had commissioned is almost done and will be ready for your nameday. How will you tell him you do not wish to celebrate it anymore? 

There are various letters, all from pretty prominent lords — Lannister, Tully, Baratheon — but also from the ones of smaller houses, like Blackwood or Mormont. They all apparently wish their deepest condolences to you and will be happy to assist if you ever need their help with what your father has left behind. Aka, they all already seem quite interested in remarrying your mother — scandal! The mourning period has just started for her and she won’t be able to marry for at least a year — and also, you know that some of them are still married. 

The last letter makes you honestly frown at the direwolf wax crest keeping it closed. Now, why would Cregan Stark, barely three-and-ten, be interested in your mother? But as you open it, interest in your mother is the last thing you can find. 

To the Crown Princess, firstborn of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon.  I was truly sorry to hear of your father’s passing. I remember Ser Laenor very well, and he has always been nothing but kind to our family, always welcoming us with a smile on his face the little times we went to King’s Landing. I myself lost my father almost three years ago, and I must say, the pain dulls over time. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, but living with it becomes easier. The void parents leave behind never fully heals, and it is easy to fall back in despair every once in a while, but I recommend crying as much as you can during the mourning period and then keeping yourself busy — at least, that worked for me, and I share this with Your Grace in hopes to help her. I wasn’t much older than you when the late Lord of Winterfell died, and losing a father isn’t something easy to process. Parents are the first to welcome us into the world, and the pain that their passing brings isn’t something even barely imaginable to someone who hasn’t gone through it.  Remember to always keep your head up, for the crown is a heavy burden and your shoulders must get used to it — as unpleasant as it may be. 

You’ve never received a letter from him before, and if it wasn’t for the situation, you’d probably be jumping around and twirling in your dresses. 

Your eyes dart to his knife, sitting upon your desk — as it always is. You rarely leave it behind when you go somewhere, as you have grown quite attached to it. A scary thought passes through your head, making you shiver. Is this what father meant, to think of death as a relief? You doubt you’d ever have the courage to do it; your family is already broken enough as it is. 

You realise you need a change of air. 

The ride to Dragonstone is rushed and a bit scary, with the Stark knife sitting on your hip, heavier than ever. You don’t plan on staying too long, as your mother will worry and your family still is on Driftmark, hoping to bring comfort to Corlys and Rhaenys. 

The servants greet you with messy clothes and tousled hair, clearly having just woken up, but it doesn’t take long for them to accompany you to the nursery. 

It seems Joffrey has just woken up, too, whining in his crib a bit; you coo at him, brushing the brown tufts of hair away from his forehead. “Hello, little guy,” you whisper. “Missed me?”

He stirs as you take him in your arms, bleary hazel eyes looking at you; then he smiles, showing you his toothless gums, reaching a hand out for your cheek. You laugh, “Aren’t you the most precious thing?” you hum, tapping delicately his nose. “Hidden here from all the pain of the world, not knowing a thing about what’s going on?”

You press a light kiss on his head as he takes your index finger in his hand. “Father won’t be here to see you grow up, but I’ll be. And I promise to make sure that you’ll be as loved and taken care of as I was when he was here, still with us.”

Four moons pass agonisingly slowly; you all get back to Dragonstone at the end of the first, for your grandparents seem to be able to go on without your presence, and the time to get used to life on the island without your father has come. As Lord Stark suggested, you keep yourself busy: you show Helaena and your cousins — who, with their father, have moved to the castle with you all —, you’ve helped them set their things up in their chambers and every day you visit little Joff in the nursery, often with your brothers present. 

You started eating again, much to your mother’s relief, and have convinced your grandsire to avoid hosting a feast for your ninth nameday, on the promise to let him go all out for your tenth summer — Laenor’s loss is still too fresh for you to feel like you can start enjoying yourself again. He still insisted on giving you a present, though, and has told you to come to King’s Landing as soon as you could, during or after your nameday. 

The day before you officially turn nine summers old, though, your mother calls you in her chambers. You’re surprised to also find uncle Daemon there; you know they are... close, but as you have a particular dislike towards him, it is rare for the two of you to be found in the same room together. 

Trying to hide the disdain for your uncle, you focus on Rhaenyra, who’s smiling nervously. “You sent for me, mother?”

“That I did, sweetling,” she says, eyes a bit unsure. “I– we, me and your uncle, have to tell you something.” you don’t like the tone she’s using — it’s like she already knows you won’t like what she’s about to say. You have an inkling of what she could be hiding, but you wait for her to spill the beans, because you don’t like your intuition one bit. 

“We’ll get married by the next moon.” what happened to breaking news softly?

Looks like you were right, but that doesn’t mean you’re more ready to hear it from her mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It would strengthen the both of us,” she reasons, already trying to calm you down. “My claim to the throne would be strengthened by the union and Joffrey would have a father to look up to as he grows up.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “I know that the passing of your late father’s–”

“Late father?” you hiss. “Late father? Mother, you can’t even say his name now?”

She sighs. “Laenor was a good man, but you know I didn’t love him–”

“Does it really matter?” you scoff. “The mourning period isn’t even over yet! By marrying him, you’ll bring disgrace to my father’s name!”

She has tears in her eyes; she knew from the start that this discussion could only go downhill, and the fact that Daemon has a smirk on his face only worsens things. “I know you’re angry, but you have to understand that me and Daemon hold love for each other and our union will–”

“I don’t care!” you boom, “I don’t care if you love him, father loved you too! Maybe not in the conventional way, maybe more like a sister or a friend, but he held enough regard for you to have me despite his limits! He would’ve never done this to you! And my brothers’ father — he’s dead, both of them are, and you won’t just– just replace them with him!” you point an accusatory finger at your uncle, sat without a care in the world on the couch and sipping on a goblet of wine. "Harwin Strong, too, was a good man, an honest knight, and he was loyal to you until the very end!”

Your mother bites back — because even with all the love she holds for you, she is quite prideful, too. “That is enough!” she rages, “I told you because I wanted to let you know before your brothers and cousins did, not because I needed your approval! Daemon is a good match and the decision is taken, so you better change your attitude! Besides, why do you hate him so much?”

“Ooh, I have a list,” you boast. “For starters, he ripped me off of my dead father’s body when it was still warm. But I can go on.” you don’t wait for her reply to continue, “He’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen — I’m sure horses can look better. He’s so old he’s not only my uncle but yours too, and by now his hair is fair not because he’s a Targaryen, but because it’s turning white! He’s so old he’s starting to smell like a decaying body, and don’t even get me started on his wrinkles! He has lost his wife and child not even four moons ago and he’s already replacing them with a widowed lady and a fatherless child! Out of the two wives he has had, both have died! If you think I am ever going to accept that thing into my house then you’re wrong! Marry him if you want, but don’t ever, ever expect me to be present to the ceremony nor be cordial to him!”

You are breathless by the time the last sentence is finished, chest heaving, and the two adults are looking at you bewildered. Your mother has tears in her eyes, while Daemon stares at you with his mouth open. “First of all, I am not that old. Second, this is not your house. This is your mother’s house.” he says. Then he looks at your mother. “Third, you didn’t tell me she behaved so much like me. I feel like I needed to be warned that.”

If your rage could be held back before, it can’t now. You scream at the top of your lungs until your throat feels raw, “I am not like you and I will never be! I’ll cut my throat before I will even start to resemble you, you… you whore!” you’ll have to ask Aegon for more effective insults towards men, because calling him a whore right now feels like a jest. “You’ll never be even half the man my father was, as you are even barely a man. What is a prince without honour? You must be some kind of dragonseed, because I know you have none!”

Your mother says your name sternly. “You’ve said far more than I should’ve allowed you.”

You stay silent. “Alright, then.” you head over to the door, taking the handle in your hand, and almost open it before she speaks up again, “Where do you think you’re going?” she asks. Her voice has a strange tremble to it, but you cannot understand if it’s out of anger or something else. “I told you, the decision is taken. Nothing you will do will make us change our minds.”

You open the doors, turning to look at them. “Oh, I’m not telling you not to get married. I’m just telling you I won’t be there to witness it.” you get out of there, shutting the doors closed behind you, and despite her yells, your mother doesn’t follow you — nor does Daemon. 

Maybe it’s stupid, but it doesn’t feel like it. You don’t care that Daemon is old, nor do you care about the fact that he’s ugly — it’s just that you don’t like him, and they’re disrespecting your father’s memory by marrying so early after his death. As long as she’s happy, you’d let your mother do anything; but this feels like too much. You get that she didn’t love your father, but at the very least she should care about the love that you and your brothers held for him. Besides, just the thought of little Joff calling Daemon ‘father’ makes you shiver. 

“Your Grace!” as you storm off, a page follows you, breathless and dazed. “Your Grace, a ship has just arrived down to the harbour. There’s a man in the courtroom — he says he’s searching for the late Ser Laenor Velaryon.”

You frown, stopping for a moment. There’s no way any westerosi man has never heard of your father’s passing — he has been dead for four moons by now, and word is quick in Westeros. He should know better. 

The courtroom is almost empty, spare for the guards and a few servants bustling around and whispering to each other, looking at a gruff looking man. He has tanned skin, hair and beard black and unkept, and the dry skin of someone who has stayed on a ship for a long period. His clothes are modest and his gaze is confused. 

“Good evening,” you start, making him jump. He probably hadn’t seen you. “May I help you?”

“Erm…” he mutters, unsure of himself. He’s clutching a parcel in his hands. “Me no talk westerosi good. Ser Laenor Velaryon here is?”

You raise an eyebrow. A Tyroshi. So, that’s why he doesn’t know your father is dead. He has been travelling. “My father was Ser Laenor Velaryon. He passed away four moons ago, I’m afraid. Whatever you had to tell him, you can say it to me.”

He looks unsure — maybe he didn’t understand you pretty well — but slowly nods. “Master said to deliver parcel to him.”

Ah, you understand. A slave. “You can give it to me. I will treat it with the utmost care.” you tilt your head, staring at him. “Do you need anything? Food, some water, a refuge?”

He vehemently shakes his head and places the package in your hands. “Me can’t. Other works to deliver I have. Ship sails again soon.” 

He’s gone before you can protest, a certain urgency in his walk, and the guards are happy to show him off. You look at the parcel in your hands, confused, not remembering anything your father commissioned the Tyroshi. 

You get back to your chambers, curiosity getting the best of you, immediately tearing off the silk wrapped around the wooden box. A piece of paper sits between them, and your confusion only grows when you notice there are words written on it. Tears pool in your eyes once you recognise the writing. 

To the fairest Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, whom the Gods allowed me to raise and cherish.

You open the box with shaky hands, finding a sword. Written on the blade there’s a small inscription: From Father, with love. You start crying even before you can take it out from its box, clutching it close to your chest by the hilt, careful not to cut yourself — you had completely forgotten about it, about the fact that your father had it commissioned for you. With everything that happened, it completely slipped off of your mind.

Even with eyes clouded with tears, you take a better look at the sword: it’s shorter than a normal one, right for your size, and the grip is shaped like a seahorse — it’s the only part of the sword decorated with blue shiny rocks and gold. It’s not a common design, surely not a convenient one — you doubt you could ever go to war with a thing like this — as it’s more of a ceremonial weapon, much like the knife you stole from Lord Cregan. 

Even dead, your father always manages to give you something for your birthday. 

You try to recompose yourself, and now there’s only one thing in your mind — rage. Your father was a good man, yet your mother is ready to disrespect his memory when his passing is still so fresh. You have no intention of staying here to watch. 

It does not take you long to get yourself in your riding attire, the Velaryon gold emblem flaring on your chest; you carefully put the sword in its scabbard, tying an old pearl string that Laenor gifted you years ago to the guard of it. You then tie it to your belt, as you’ve seen knights do, and you don’t forget your — Lord Cregan’s — dagger, who finds its place just beside the sword. The buckle that holds together your leather straps is one with the Stark emblem on it — in this moment, you’d even wear the Lannister’s lion crest just to forget for a minute about your Targaryen blood, which as of now you’re really ashamed of. 

The plan is simple — flee to King’s Landing, then give your grandsire a reason to keep you there, which should not be too difficult. Fate has a funny way of working, and the King’s Justice has just died — news flash! You’ve got a dragon who could use some human flesh between his teeth regularly, and he doesn’t even have to be paid. You have the literal perfect candidate in your hands, and surely, the King won’t be too sad to have you around for a bit. 

You leave right after saying goodbye to Helaena and your brothers, not telling them exactly why. Because even if you hate Daemon, you don’t hate your mother, and you could never bear any of them thinking that you’re leaving because of her. 

“Can I come with you?” Luke asks, dragon plush in his hands, big brown eyes pleading. You melt a bit, gently shaking your head, “You must stay here, you’re still too young to ride a dragon. Besides, who’s going to protect Joff and Jace if you’re gone?”

Jacaerys huffs, crossing his arms as his younger brother lights up and makes sword moves with the plush. “I will take care of them,” he sniffs — you know he’s just trying to act tough, though.

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll come back… sooner or later, anyway.”

He lunges at you for a hug, knocking the air right out of your chest. “Please don’t go,” he whimpers. You caress his head — he’s still much shorter than you, and you hate to think about the day he will be too tall to fit right into your hugs. “I’ll be right back,” you whisper. “I promise.”

rhaenyra and her babies are my roman empire

Unbent,unbowed,unbroken

Chapter 1

Aemond/ Aegon/ Jacaerys x fem! Targaryen! Martell! reader

Synopsis: (y/n) Martell the daughter of Gael Targaryen and Morion Martell has been invited to join court in King’s landing, she was to stay with her Targaryen family away from Dorne.

Chapter two

Sunspear 112 ac

As the cries of the babe were heard, Gael sighed in relief as her handmaiden Maura patted at her sweaty forehead. But as the newborn was being swaddled by nurses, the Targaryen's princess breathing got slower.

"Your highness?!" Maura exclaimed noticing the poor state of the princess, her worried tone alerted the maester and septas. They quickly moved to Gael but before the grand maester could help the Targaryen princess her gentle heart fell silent.

"My wife! Where is my wife!?" The head of the house Morian Martell stormed into the chambers of his young wife.

„I’m sorry my prince… her highness passed away.” The maester spoke solemnly, his gaze lowered and hands stained with his wife’s blood.

“The child..?” He searched for good news among the septas and nurses. Maura stepped forward with the calm babe wrapped in golden bundles.

The prince of Dorne quickly moved away from the maester and quickly took his newborn child in his arms.

“It’s a girl, my prince.” Maura spoke quietly, Morian nodded his head and passed the babe to her wet nurse.

“Send word to kings landing, the funeral will take place here as quickly as possible. Now get out…all of you.” The prince said moving towards the cold body of his wife.

The young princess looked ethereal, even in death. Her silver locks spread on the silk sheets, plump rosy lips parted slightly, her large violet eyes closed and long lashes wet from tears. Morian took the dainty hand of Gael kissing it gently ,holding it dearly in his hands, he mourned the loss of his wife.

The bells rang loudly on Sunspear, alerting the people of the princess’s passing.

Sunspear 122 ac

The princess (y/n) Martell, ten years of age, watched her younger step siblings play with various toys. The prince of Dorne along his second wife watched their children in amusement. (y/n) however was more interested in the heavy book that laid in her lap, she sat in the shade of the large tree leaning on its strong roots. The sun rays lightly illuminated the princess curly silver locks, giving her an almost ethereal glow. The book the young Martell princess was reading told the story of the Lady Nymeria who conquered Dorne hundreds of years ago.

An envoy walked into the family gardens disturbing the domestic bliss of the Martells.

“My prince, you along with your family have been summoned to kings landing to attend the forty name day of his grace King Viserys!” He spoke loudly and (y/n) pulled her nose out of her book, intrigued by the news. She had heard of the Targaryen King many times from her father and other courtiers. The tragic death of his late wife queen Aemma, the succession crisis, the wedding of Viserys and his bride Alicent Hightower and the birth of their son Aegon.

Prince Morian stepped towards the envoy’s taking the letter from his hands, and examining it himself. The princess quickly shuffled towards her father leaving the book in the grass, picking up her youngest brother Myrcel. He babbled at his elder sister, taking her silver curly locks into his chubby hands and putting it in his mouth. Lady Elara the second wife of Morion Martell, picked up the youngest son from her stepdaughter.

“Do not put your sister hair into you mouth Myrcel.” She cooed at her baby, and the princess smiled at her mother figure.

“Leave us” The prince spoke sternly and moved back to his family, examining the details of the invite. He placed his large hand on the top of his daughter’s head, petting it gently.

“Will we be going to Kings landing?” She asked, leaning into her father’s touch. He nodded solemnly, something was bothering the prince of Dorne.

“Yes my little dragon, you will have a chance to meet your mother’s family.” He nodded and smiled at his wife warmly. “The maids shall pack our belongings immediately and we shall set sail.”

Kings Landing 122 ac

“Lord Morios Martell and Lady Elara Allyrion we welcome you to King’s Landing, we thank you for your presence.” The master of whispers Larys Strong welcomed the Dornish family. “Princess (y/n) Martell the queen Alicent has requested to meet you in her solar.” The limping man announced. You looked at your father unsure, he nodded and pushed you slightly towards lord Strong.

You followed meekly after the limping man, his cane clicked with every step making an echo. The halls of the red keep were empty, the ceiling high and banners of the seven hung from the walls. You looked around the massive architectural masterpiece build by Aegon the conqueror, guards standing at every corner.

Lord Larys Strong stopped at the massive door, he nodded at the guards that were posted on each side. They nodded and opened the heavy doors, the princess walked in, the master of whisperers stayed behind. The queen was standing in front of the mirror a handmaid fixing her dark green gown with golden threads, her chestnut hair masterfully braided embedded with beautiful pearls.

“Ah lady (y/n)!” The queen exclaimed cheerfully, she dismissed her handmaiden and walked over, her hands wrapped in front of her. The young Martell bowed gracefully.

“It is an honor to meet you, your grace.” She said kindly, queen Alicent nodded and placed her slender palm on the girls cheek. She stared deeply into her eyes, one green one violet.

“What a unique beauty you have my dear.” The doors suddenly opened the queen looked over and took a deep breath. “My love.” She began but was ignored by his grace himself. The Martel princess bowed deeply again, her gaze settled on her shoes.

“Please rise lady (y/n).” He wheezed tiredly, she did as was told. The king plopped down on the chair in the middle of his wives solar. “Please do come here. As she shuffled closer to the king he let out a strained chuckle, he placed his bony hand on the girls cheek. “Those eyes, they are just like my mothers.” He muttered and caressed the princesses hair. “Your mother was the favorite sister of my father, he spoke oh so fondly of her. He was heartbroken when king Jahearys offered her to Dorne.”

“Thank you, your grace. I haven’t had the pleasure to meet my mother, she died minutes after my birth. However my father spoke fondly of her.” She said, the young girl felt a sense of belonging next to the king.

“I’m sorry to hear that, my father and mother were heartbroken at the news of Gaels passing.” He sighed deeply and leaned into his chair, the queen sat down next to her husband.

“(y/n) my dear, the king himself has requested your presence at the royal table during the celebration.” Alicent said warmly “You will be seated next to prince Aegon and Aemond and princess Haelena along with princes Jacearys and Lucerys” The Martell princess nodded at her graces words. “You can return to your chambers to prepare for the celebration, ser Criston Cole will escort you.”

…

(y/n) Martell was visited by her father in her chambers. The maid was finishing tying up the exquisite yellow dress, the colors of her house, the other maid was braiding her silver hair, putting jasper crystals in her hair. Her father stood behind her, the princess could see the unhappy expression in the mirror.

“My sweet daughter… you look beautiful. I’m sure the princes will be breath-taken with you.” He smiled sadly, and took a deep breath. He nodded at the handmaidens to leave they bowed and left silently, leaving father and daughter alone. The princess turned around walking up to her father, her eyebrows slightly raised at the visible displeasure of the dornish prince.

“What seems to be troubling you father?” She asked taking her hands in his, Morion pressed his daughters palms against his forehead.

“Your step mother wanted to tell you this earlier but I couldn’t bring myself to… the queen and king have invited you to join their court, here in kings landing.”

The Martell lady widened her eyes, she knew what that meat. She was to stay permanently in kings landing, leaving her home behind, her father, her siblings, her step mother.

“Her grace insisted you join her daughter’s entourage, It is an great honor my little dragon.” The princess felt as if Lord Martell was not telling the whole truth, however the girl took it with dignity and nodded your head.

As a high born lady, (y/n) had duties she needed to fulfill, she had to do whatever was best for her house. She was raised by the best governesses, septa’s and educated in history, arithmetic’s, sciences, music, dancing, painting; every skill that was suitable for a lady of her status.

…

The feast was a rowdy celebration, the Martell family was announced by ser Harrold, his booming tone put all attention of lords and ladies on them. Lord Morion and lady Elara walked along the great hall, they stopped before the table of the king and queen, and bowed silently.

“Thank you for the invite your grace.” Lady Elara smiled warmly glancing at her husband, he nodded agreeing with his wives words.

The royal couple nodded, and motioned the Martells to sit in their designated spot. As the feast carried on, the doors opened again by ser Criston Cole.

“Lady (y/n) Martell of the blood of the dragon!” Ser Harrold boomed, all the guests turned curiously at the mention of the young Targaryen princess. Her silver locks were skillfully braided, the jasper crystals flickered from the light of candles, what everyone seemed to focus on were the eyes of the young girl.

Her yellow dress flowed gracefully with every movement. She glanced at her family on the right, her father and step mother nodded and motioned for her to continue to his grace.

“Your graces, I am humbled by your decision and I am graceful for the opportunity.” The Martell princess bowed elegantly.

…