Rhaenyra Targeryan - Tumblr Posts

Olivia Cooke and Emma D'arcy for Entertainment Weekly’s ‘House of the Dragon’ season 2 cover shoot.

the dear daughter

summary: At one-and-twenty and eight-and-ten, barely a year after their marriage, Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen welcomed their first child, a daughter, into the world. The girl immediately became dear to the whole court, coddled and spoiled by all, but mostly by her grandsire, King Viserys I. The man saw in his granddaughter her mother, and as the girl grew to look like his late wife, Aemma Arryn, it became even clearer that he doted on her more than he did to his own children or his other grandchildren.

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

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mention of hard labours, reader is a little shit and everyone loves her for that, language? pretty fluffy chapter if you ask me

author's note: this is my first time writing for hotd, so i hope that you like it lol. it's most likely going to be an AU, and as always, english is not my first language so (kind) criticism is plenty accepted lol

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Once her first labours finally come to an end, Rhaenyra Targaryen finds herself blessed with a daughter: a small child with fair eyes and white hair, that in the years would become the only babe actually sired by her husband, Laenor Velaryon.

Rhaenyra watches with enamoured eyes as you latch onto her breast, suckling any milk you can get; your eyes are of a misty lilac, like hers once were, and as you look up at her, she’s sure she has never felt a thing like this before. She’s a mother now, she’s what Aemma once was to her, and she feels like she’s getting back a small piece of her mother as she brushes the small tuft of white hair upon your head. 

“Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” Laenor, head laid upon her shoulder to have a better look, says. As you sleepily close your eyes, he nudges the hand that lays on Rhaenyra’s chest to seek a reaction from you, who in return wraps the entirety of your small palm around his index finger — not even managing to cover it all. By the look on his face, your mother knows that he is holding himself back from squealing. 

They both know you’re the only child they will ever have together. The months before your conception were made of dreadful nights, tears of frustration and awkward moments, so when Rhaenyra finally came to be with child they both took a relieved breath, and swore they would never lie together ever again. Rhaenyra, though, knows you probably won’t be her last; it’s expected of her to have more than one child, and if Laenor can’t give that to her, she’s going to seek that from someone else. He knows, they’ve talked about it, and he sees no problem with it; all children birthed by Rhaenyra are going to be legitimised, and he will be treating them as if they were his. 

But you’re the only one that’s going to be his. The blood of his blood. Ours runs thick. 

Rhaenyra, with the last forces left to her, delicately hoists you from her chest to give you to your father. “Why don’t you hold her?”

Laenor flushes, embarrassed, maybe not feeling ready for this moment. “Oh– I– I…” 

Despite his initial scepticism, he rests his back on the headboard, getting in a sitting position and undoing the laces of his blouse, as the maester has said that placing a babe on naked skin should calm and comfort them. So he carefully places you on his chest, and your head sits right above his heart, held and caressed gently by his hands. 

She was not born out of love, Rhaenyra thinks, but that shall not make her feel less loved by any means. 

Your dragon hatches in your cradle barely a sennight after your birth, just like every Targaryen worthy of their name, and your mother lovingly names her Merrax as she gives her to the dragon keepers to feed and train until you are old enough to bond with and claim her. 

Two moons after your birth, a feast is held in your honour, so that Rhaenyra manages to recover from her labours to participate and everyone that is invited can make sure to attend. Neither your mother nor Laenor are happy about it, as they would rather spend their time coddling and holding you in their arms, but Viserys is just too ecstatic about his first granddaughter — cooing and showing her around the castle, introducing the babe to anyone who will listen — so they indulge for his sake, and figure that letting him parade you around for just a night won’t hurt anyone. They surely didn’t think they’d have to thank a hundred lords and ladies for the gifts they brought to their firstborn for two hours straight. 

After the first hour, your mother checked to see how the line of nobles was going and paled, nudging to her husband. “This is worse than it was at our wedding.”

Laenor nodded, looking over at his father-in-law, happily chatting with Lord Bracken about the whole new wardrobe of dresses he just gifted to you. “We now have… what, ten cradles? And how many dresses and toy-dragons and dolls do we have?”

Rhaenyra sighs dramatically. “I stopped counting at the twelfth doll. Some Lords really are desperate for the favour of the King, it seems.” She looks over at you; despite the cradle sitting between her and her father for you to sleep in, it seems that Viserys has no intention of letting you stay there. You’re held in his arms, sat atop his legs, wearing a dress made of all puffy lilac silks that basically drown your little body. 

The King actually seems to be paying more attention to you than to the Lords, redoing the ribbon holding together your bonnet when it loosens and shushing you when you start to whine. “It’s actually quite interesting to watch,” Rhaenyra whispers to Laenor, “I don’t think she’s ever been this confused — nor endeared.”

You squeal when you like a gift, while you just stare when you don’t like one, and your grandsire seems to have caught up on it, managing his response to the Lords based on your reactions.

“Lord Rickon of House Stark, from Winterfell,” the page announces. Lord Rickon is a tall man no older than fourty, though his hair is already completely white — it looks like the North isn’t treating him well. He carries a son with him — Cregan, he says, — barely five summers old, and gives him a little nudge towards the makeshift throne where Viserys and you are sitting. “Come on, son,” 

Little Cregan almost stumbles upon the steps, “Your Majesty, it is an honour to be here. This is House Stark’s bestowal for the birth of the young Princess.”

Rhaenyra is impressed. She’s pretty sure no five-year-old can talk like that; Cregan seems to be much taller than the boys his age, too. The boy in question opens the box in his hands, revealing a necklet adorned with purple sapphires and pearls, and it’s so pretty that your mother thinks she just might borrow it from you. It’s not like you’ll notice the absence of it — you won’t be able to wear it for at least another seven years. To match it, there’s also a pair of tear-shaped earrings and an oval ring, all with the same lilac stones. Looks like the Starks have good taste. 

You stare at the jewels, then at the boy, then again at the jewels. You squeal, a hand reaching for the necklet — or at least, it seems. Because you actually reach for the little metal buckle that sits upon the Little Lord’s chest, holding together two leather pieces. It’s of a deep grey — silver or steel, perhaps? — and it’s adorned with the Starks emblem, the howling direwolf. 

Viserys doesn’t let you lean enough to take a hold of the buckle, taking your little hand in his and shaking his head. “No, not that, sweetling,” he chastises. He gently takes the wooden box from Cregan, showing you the jewels. “They are quite impressive, are they not? Clearly, it took an expert hand to make them.” 

Lord Rickon puffs his chest with pride, but as you reach and take the necklet, you don’t seem quite as happy as before. Your little hands wrap around the big, round gemstones and pearls, and you try to chew on it before the King can stop you. The court erupts in laughter, and your grandsire takes the jewel away from your hands as gently as he can. “No, sweetling, you can’t put it in your mouth–” 

But your attention is already elsewhere, towards the Stark boy, and you reach your hand out towards the buckle with the emblem of his House again. You really like it, it seems.

Cregan sends an unsure glance towards his father, who nods, then unclasps the buckle from the leather straps and hands you the little emblem. You eagerly take it, immediately chewing on it — and this time, Viserys chooses not to stop you before you importunate the Stark boy anymore — but you still don’t look satisfied. You reach towards Cregan, again, and this time, pull a chunk of his hair, squealing delightfully. 

Rhaenyra can tell that the child is trying his best not to protest — after all, even if a babe, you are still a princess — as you, with all the mighty force that a newborn has, happily try to make the Stark boy bald. You shriek and gurgle, happily playing with the black strands as the whole court tries not to laugh their asses off. 

Viserys, despite holding back his laugh, decides to take mercy upon the boy, separing you two and hoisting you up, laughing gleefully. “My dear granddaughter!” he exclaims. “Not even three moons old yet, and already terrorising the whole court!” he then looks at Cregan, a playful glint in his eyes. “I think she likes you, boy!”

He sends the Stark boy off with a pat on the shoulder and a truthful thanks to Lord Rickon for the gifts, as clearly, they were appreciated amply.

Further in the evening, they send you back in Rhaenyra’s arms, milk drunk from the wet nurse feeding, and she finds herself surrounded by Ladies and Lords who gape at you, who are starting to get a bit fussy and stirring and whining in her arms.  Your mother shushes you as best as she can, but since there’s a constant buzzing in the hall — it being the bards or the guests chatting — there’s not much she can do. 

You seem to regain your light when Lord Stark — or, more like, his son — enters your vision camp. You squeal happily, even if the boy winces, brushing his hair behind his ear just to make sure you won’t pull it again. Rhaenyra laughs, saccharine and a bit inebriated from the wine she has had, and looks over the child. “It seems that she has taken quite a liking to you, boy. Would you like to hold her?”

Cregan isn’t exactly fond of the idea, but when a princess asks if you wish to hold her child, you can’t exactly refuse. So he takes a seat in the nearest chair as your mother explains to him how to hold you, and once he does, he finds your eyes — big, violet and shiny — looking at him with what he could only explain as awe. The Ladies around him share a knowing laughter, chanting something about love at first sight, and you slowly fall asleep in his arms. 

He is finally relieved of the tremendous weight sitting in his arms as Rhaenyra retrieves you, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple and thanking the boy, before going towards the cradle sitting between the two makeshift thrones in front of the Royal Family’s table, guarded by two knights. She lays you down and murmurs a small promise of taking you back to the nursery as soon as the feast ends, and then sends a knowing look to Harwin, stationed right beside the crib to guard you. 

The rest of the night passes smoothly, and by the end of it, Cregan finds himself peering over the crib as almost every adult in the room is black-out drunk, poking your cheek with his finger. Ser Strong gives him a reprimanding but somewhat soft slap on the back of his head, asking him not to do that. 

And as he looks at you over the crib, stirring but not waking up, the only thing that Cregan Stark can think about is all the trouble you’re going to cause once you grow up.

Sometime later comes Jacaerys. 

You welcome him with a slap on the cheek and a high pitched cry, scared about the fact that there’s another babe in the arms of your mother that’s not you, and Laenor is quick to escort you out of the birthing chamber, shushing you with promises of buying you new dolls and taking you to ride Seasmoke. 

And he does, but that doesn’t seem to put an end to your jealousy. 

Rhaenyra is still strained by her labours, who weren’t so kind to her like last time; she finds herself in much more pain than she was when she had you, and for days can’t even stand up straight for more than a few seconds. This does not help the situation, because you want your mother to play with you and take you riding on Syrax, but she can't — and you end up, yet again, blaming your little brother and taking it out on him.

You start screaming as soon as you see him. You mostly reject the spare attempts of your mother to make you bond with him or even to hug her, and Rhaenyra, already suffering thanks to the stress of a newborn that looks nothing like Laenor holds, feels like a terrible mother. 

“Of course the child doesn’t like her brother,” the maids whisper. “He looks nothing like her, or her mother. She sees him as a stranger; she sees what he actually is — a bastard.”

The maids’ tongues are quick to cut, but whispers are hard to silence, and they continue. Alicent makes sure of it. She always seems to take a liking in making Rhaenyra’s life as hard as possible, thriving in seeing her pain. 

During this time, you don’t throw tantrums with only three people: Laenor, your aunt Halaena and your grandsire. 

Laenor, bless his heart, is a softie for you. He loves Jacaerys, he really does, but he can’t stand to see you cry and feel replaced. You’re young, but you’re smart, and even if you cannot articulate it, he knows you think that with Jace you’re no longer going to be as loved as before. That’s because when Laena was born, he’s pretty sure he thought and felt the same, but he’s also sure that you’re going to accept Jacaerys, so he often tries to persuade you into seeing him. It always ends in a pool of tears and yet another promise to taking you on a ride on Seasmoke with him. 

Helaena has no expectations of you, and she just lets you roam in the gardens, her chambers or the nursery as you like. She’s sweet, feeding you lemon cakes stolen from the kitchens and letting you sleep on her lap, curled like a cat. She makes you dresses — secretly altered by her septa so that they are actually functioning — and sings you lullabies, liking the idea of kinda having a baby of her own without birthing one or having to have a husband.

Yet, your favourite always ends up being your grandsire, the King; it seems that you can barely be separated from him. You become his little shadow, always following him, waddling around and clinging to his cloak. And when the lords in the Small Council ask him why there's a toddler sitting on his legs, playing with his cup and trying to drink from it, he just laughs it off and tells them to go on with the meeting.

He spoils you rotten, buying you all the toys and dresses you spare a glance to, even after Rhaenyra tells him again and again to stop doing that. It is clear that he has a favourite, as Alicent always reminds him, as he is “constantly neglecting his sons in favour of a spoiled brat”, as she says. Viserys doesn’t tolerate such language, and never makes it a mystery to his lady wife, not once backing down from reprimanding her about it. 

And Viserys ends up being a blessing, because slowly, he manages to make you warm up to Jacaerys. You soon begin to ask about your baby brother, if he can play or say your name, and decide that since you lack of male dolls, he’s little enough to make up for it. 

In the year that follows, Lucerys joins you and Jace. This time, you instantly treat him as if he was your own, happy with your newfound role of older sister, trying to play with him even if he can barely roll onto his belly. This time around, it is Jace who is jealous of the newcomer; his dear sister now’s all preoccupied with the new babe and barely even cares about him anymore, it seems. But his jealousy doesn’t last as long as yours, luckily, because soon enough he’s joining you in the quest of dressing up Luke as a dragon.

Rhaenyra is so happy with this turn of events that the rumours about her sons being bastards are almost completely tuned out. And as she sits in the nursery, watching you dress up Jacaerys as a true prince to save your dolls while Lucerys sleeps like the dead in the cradle, she thinks that weirdly enough, she wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

dragons' scars

summary: And after the events that happened during Lady Laena’s funeral at Driftmark, two dragons were left scarred.

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

word count: 6.4k

warnings: blood, fighting, grief, graphic description of wounds, vomiting, probably medical inaccuracies, representation of alicent and viserys' failmarriage at its best

author's note: whoof. this was a whole lot to write. sorry for the delay, I've been on vacation, but I still hope you all like it! in the next few chapters we'll see reader head first in her position as heir and enter a bit of a rebellious phase. i'm not sure i'm completely satisfied by this chapter, but i hope you all enjoy!

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The raven announcing Ser Harwin Strong’s death arrives at Dragonstone barely a day after the one announcing Laena Velaryon’s passing — as if moving to Dragonstone hasn’t already been hard enough on your family. Now not only is your father unresponsive, but your mother, too. 

Laenor had taken quite badly Lady Laena’s passing. He disappeared until supper, only to come back completely black out drunk after, carried by Ser Qarl. Your mother didn’t have the heart to get mad at him, and simply asked the knight to accompany him back to his chambers; she is closing off, too. 

You’re left to look after your brothers, since your parents are still barely at the start of their grieving; you visit them in the nursery, you play with them, you tell them how good they did with their lessons. You suspect Jace knows the truth about Ser Harwin probably being their real father and maybe he would like to drown in his own misery, too, but you won’t let him. Not when your parents are already going downhill. 

None of you knew aunt Laena, even if your father had promised multiple times to bring you to Pentos to visit her, but her death is still a tragedy. Burnt by her own dragon, per her own request, during childbirth. The fact that your mother survived the same thing not too long ago makes you shiver. 

It’s night when you hear the door of your chambers being opened, and you rouse, a bit alarmed, until you recognize the silhouette of your father under the moonlight. “Father? Is– is everything alright?”

He sniffs, standing beside your bed, then sitting down on the ground. “Do you mind if I stay here? Even for a little while will do.”

“I… sure. For as long as you think you need, father.” He reeks of wine, but you don’t point it out to him, turning in the bed so that you’re facing him. You give him your hand and he gladly takes it, squeezing it. “You know,” Laenor mumbles, “She would’ve loved you.” he wipes his nose with the back of his free hand, eyes red and cheeks blotchy. “I promised you that one day you would have met her, but I couldn't keep my promise. I was waiting for her to come back to Westeros — but I should’ve just flown to Pentos once you were born. Now my sister never got to know my daughter — nor any of my children.”

He laughs; a bitter, teary laugh. “She would’ve really loved you. You could’ve ridden Vhagar and Nādrēsy together — the biggest dragons in the world finally flying together.” another sniff, “I always wrote to her about you, and she said that she had bought some jewellery to give to you. That was years ago, though.” he lets out a choked sob, “I haven’t heard from her in what feels like a lifetime.”

You can’t even imagine being away from Jace and Luke for more than a sennight — Joffrey, maybe, yes, but that’s just because he only cries, eats, sleeps and poops. In a few years you won’t be able to part from him either, let alone grieve for him. You’ve known your brothers for most of your life, while they’ve known you for the entirety of theirs. Losing them, in such a way… you don’t even want to think about it. 

“Where’s aunt Laena now?” you ask him. She may have passed, but she has to be somewhere, right? How can a person just… stop existing?. She still has to be somewhere. Maybe she’s with Merrax.

Your father shakes his head. “I don’t know. For us Velaryons, once we die, the sea takes us back. We’re buried in it, so that it may take back all that we owe it. But Laena was also a Targaryen, and for Targaryens death means going back to Old Valyria with their dragons — but Vhagar’s still alive, so I don’t know how she could be able to reach Old Valyria. For the Faith of the Seven, there are Seven Hells and Seven Heavens, and everyone is judged for their sins and actions, and put where the Gods find adequate.”

“I don’t want to be judged when I die. Isn’t death a punishment enough as it is?” 

“I…” Laenor shakes his head. “I understand that for you it might be hard to comprehend, but death isn’t exactly a punishment. Truth is, men are executed just to prevent other people from committing their crimes by scaring them, and also to prevent them from doing it again; but death itself isn’t a punishment. Sometimes it’s a relief. I suppose that’s how your aunt perceived it.” 

You confusedly nod, still not understanding how she could find it a relief. She had two daughters, a husband, a good name for herself; some people would have given anything to be her. So, why? 

Your father has tears in his eyes. “There are fates way worse than death. I guess Laena thought she had enough.”

He leaves you to sleep with a choppy kiss on the forehead and a cracked goodnight, but you barely close an eye. You ask yourself if your mother would have ever left you and your brothers in favour of a quick death, had the situation been the same. 

Three days later, you depart for Driftmark on your dragons. Your parents carry one of your brothers each, while Joffrey is left on Dragonstone under the attentive care of the wetnurses and maids. The ride to Driftmark isn't too long, and you're one of the last ones to arrive for the funeral — as your grandsire, along with your uncles and his entourage, is already there, and so are many others. 

You see what probably is your uncle Daemon with his daughters, Baela and Rhaena, talking to your grandparents — Corlys a collected expression on his face, Rhaenys with teary eyes. There are a few Velaryon family members, who you recognise from your various visits to Driftmark in the last few years, and your grandsire, sitting on a makeshift throne under the gazebo of High Tide’s courtyard — where the tables with wine and refreshments are already placed. 

A guard announces the start of the ceremony, for Laena’s casket has been placed and is ready to be honoured, and you all move towards the cliff, where your aunt's body is ready to be dragged down and thrown onto the sea; you hold on tight to your father's hand as uncle Vaemond starts his eulogy. He squeezes back, sending you a tender glance full of tears. 

The eulogy is in Valyrian, and you are surprised to find barely any mentions of Laena's life. It sounds more like a praise to House Velaryon, of the thick blood that runs through it, and somehow an attempt at something. You can't decide if he's referring to your brother's not-so-Valyrian features or if he's simply trying to get on your grandfather's good side. Probably both.

“Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.”

Laena's casket is slowly dragged down the rocks, and soon enough, it falls into the waters below. 

You look up at your father, tugging on his vest. “Father, will we be buried like this too?” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I will be. One day, I shall be united with my sister again and join her in the sea. But you'll be buried like a Targaryen, sweetling. You are destined to be something far greater than to be just a Lady Velaryon.”

You don't like it. You don't like the way he's saying it, like being a Velaryon is a curse. “Why? I want to be buried with you.”

He shakes his head again, almost stoically. It seems this is a talk that, at this moment, is too difficult for you to understand. “You'll be a Targaryen, sitting on the throne. You're destined to be burned by dragonfire.” he sniffs. “Or, or maybe you'll be buried by your lord husband’s family traditions; that's not unusual. I'll be a mere Lord, one day. I am your father, but I am not your duty.”

Your lower lip is trembling, and you bite it to hold in the tears that almost manage to escape. “Father, what are you even saying?” it isn’t fair that you can’t choose where to end up, even in death.

He grimaces. As soon as the ceremony ends, he lets go of your hand and simply disappears, as you all gather back in the courtyard stationed on the cliffside of High Tide. Your mother quickly comes to the rescue, holding you under one arm and your brothers under the others, promising you all lemon cakes and sweets once the ceremony is over.

You soon go to your grandparents, giving them your condolences like your mother told you to and then hugging them tight. Rhaenys almost bursts into tears, but actually, she’s great at hiding them for someone who just lost her only daughter. She pats you on the cheek and just stares for a moment, like she’s searching for something, before your grandfather brings her out of her stupor, gently nudging her to other courtesans. 

You greet your grandsire after that, who kisses your temple and hugs you tight, blabbering about how much he has missed you. “The Red Keep has become dull,” he murmurs, coughing a bit. “My children are in no way as bright as you are. Why don’t you come visit sometime? I could use some laughter, you know, and with your witts you often bring me to tears from it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Grandsire, I’ve been gone for not even a moon.”

He huffs. “Forgive this old man for missing his only granddaughter. You and your brothers are children, behaving like children; that's why your presence is dearly missed.” his gaze goes to your uncles; Aemond is staring dully in the distance, and Aegon is eyeing the maids while being on his… what? Fourth cup of wine? “Meanwhile, I’ve got… children behaving like forsaken adults. A drunkard, a spiteful brat, and… I don’t even know what to say about Helaena. At least she’s quiet.”

You’ve never understood why everyone describes Aemond as spiteful. He’s awkward, maybe even unpleasant at moments, but you wouldn't say exactly spiteful. “Grandsire, that is not a nice thing to say. Helaena is very good at embroidering, for one. Aemond is good with books. Aegon… well, I’m not really sure what, but there has to be something good about him.”

He lets out a disappointed noise, shaking his head. “They all excel at giving me headaches. But you know who’s best at it? Their mother.” he grunts, “She’s been insufferable as of lately. I fear I will go mad.”

You desperately try to take the conversation away from your uncles and aunt, not liking the way he talks about them. “If the Queen gives you trouble, I have a dragon. We could either run away on Nādrēsy or make sure he takes care of her.” as if on cue, a dragon roar is heard from the other side of the cliff.

Your grandsire chuckles and pinches your cheek. “Aren’t you a little rascal? That could be considered treason, sweetling. You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

Soon after you leave him, too, in favour of your cousins Rhaena and Baela. They stay out of the crowd, sitting on a little bench, looking completely inconsolable. You near them, not quite knowing how to start a conversation, since they must have heard condolences all day. 

“Uh, I, uh,” not really the best ice breaker, but you surely have their attention now. “I have some dresses — they do not fit me anymore. But I think that they’d fit you both nicely. If you ever need to take a breather, or, or, some time to think and have some fun, you could come to Dragonstone.” you try to smile, but surely it comes out crooked. “I’d be delighted to have you there. I’m always available if you need me.”

Rhaena tries to smile, too, while Baela barely nods. “Thanks, cousin.” 

Corlys comes up to you three, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Could you go fetch your father, dear?” He looks stiff, and you soon understand why: your father is standing in the waters below, on the beach, kneeling in the saltwater and looking completely lost. It does not take you long to join him, holding up your dress so that only your shoes and collants get wet. 

“Father,” you call out. You can’t go too much farther. “Father, are you alright?” He doesn’t reply. He just stares ahead of him, into the vastity of the Narrow Sea, like he can almost see his sister again. You’ve never seen your father so lost, so… unlike himself. It’s like Laena brought with her a part of him. Is he buried in the sea now, too? Am I destined to never see him again? Not even in death?

“Father,” you try again. You get a bit closer, the cold water biting your skin. “Please.”

Laenor barely turns his head to look at you. He looks like a shell of himself, and you think that maybe, it’s just now that he has realised that Laena’s never coming back. Earlier, he had you to ground him; but once he let go of your hand, he suddenly understood that he was alone. His sister is dead. There’s no one else with whom he has shared the same experiences he shared with her, no one else so willing to understand him as she was, no one else who will look at him as an older brother. 

Laena Velaryon is no more, and you are sure she has dragged your father with her in the depths of the sea. 

It’s well past midnight when you are rudely woken up. It’s Rhaena, you realise, and she is calling your name quite insistently. “What?” you hiss, softening once you remember that you were the one to tell the twins that you were always available if needed. You intended by day, but if they need you, then you’ll gladly get up and get going. 

“Someone has stolen Vhagar,” she murmurs, tears brimming in her eyes. You can hear the she-dragon roaring outside, and she doesn’t sound too happy. “Jacaerys, Lucerys and Baela are already going out — but you have a dragon. Can’t you just… follow her?”

She doesn’t have to repeat it twice, because you’re already putting on your riding pants and a tunic, going for the balcony and calling for Nādrēsy. The infamous Cannibal doesn’t take long to arrive, always at your beck and call, and you soon mount him, as Rhaena runs off — probably to where your brothers and her sister were headed. 

It’s almost impossible not to spot Vhagar: she’s an old, gigantic dragon, that in the years has lost all her spikes and now looks like a giant lizard. Her scales are green, fading into a deep bronze, and her saddle is vacant — not really, you think, as you see your uncle Aemond barely clinging to the ropes of the saddle, almost flying away. 

Nādrēsy roars, unhappy to see his mother, you imagine. He moves to turn away, away from her, and you try to hold tight on the reins, keeping him in place. “Daor, Nādrēsy, daor!” No, Nādrēsy, no!

He whines, rebelling against you for what is maybe the first time in over two years, and you can feel how unsettled he is. It radiates off of him, and before you can even understand what is happening, he’s turning back and going for the beach — searching for a landing. Every attempt to stop him, to make him obey, is vain; he roars over your voice, tuning you out, even when you punch and kick at his neck — it seems the only one hurt by this is you, actually. His spikes are not going to fall off for a while, it seems. Unlike Vhagar he still has them all. 

He lands on the beach, roaring loudly and huffing fire. Since now Vhagar is landing, too, and she is pretty far away, you decide to forget about the stunt your dragon has just pulled in order to catch up with the others — you’d hate to miss Rhaena and Baela, or anyone really, going ballistic against Aemond. 

Except, once you finally reach the entrance of High Tide, you find yourself in front of a scene that will surely haunt you in your dreams for a good while. 

Now, you don’t like Aemond. Not really, since he supports his brother in constantly calling your brothers bastards and mostly keeps to himself. That doesn’t mean that him being beaten up by four children way younger than him isn’t honestly pitiful. You had hoped for a fight, yes, but the kind with screams and insults, not the kind with punches and blood, where one of your brothers could easily get injured. 

Aemond is three-and-ten. The twins are a year younger than you, while Jace is six, barely a year older than Luke. The way they easily win against him almost saddens you, and despite the fact that you have nothing against seeing him beaten to a pulp, your mother is already having a hard time adjusting to the changes of the last few weeks — Joff’s birth, Harwin’s death, moving to Dragonstone — and, you think, your brothers and cousins killing your uncle surely wouldn’t help her. So, against all your best wishes, you stand up for Aemond.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” you scream, prying them all off of him. You take Jacaerys and Luke by their ears, making them whine as you throw them around. “Is this what Ser Cole taught you? Four against one? It’s not a fair fight!” 

“Whose side are you on? He stole my dragon!” Rhaena screeches, outraged. “Vhagar was supposed to be mine!”

“Well, now it isn’t!” you find yourself saying. “I lost my dragon too, and guess what? I found another one! If he was able to claim Vhagar, then maybe she wasn’t meant to be yours. And I say that with the utmost respect and affection for you, cousin, trust me. If Vhagar accepted him, then maybe she’s not worth that much.”

You turn, leaving your brothers with red ears, looking at your uncle, left groaning on the ground. You offer him your hand, leaning a bit. “Uncle, let’s just go to sleep and forget about all that has happened.”

He glances at you, then at your hand. He takes it, and before you can react, he drags you down towards him. 

He’s got a pointed rock in his free hand. 

Luke and Jace scream before you even feel the impact of the stone with your temple, and it’s not a light throw. It’s one with intent, probably aimed to kill. The pain explodes and leaves you in shambles on the ground where your uncle was just a moment ago, and as he prepares himself for another hit, Jacaerys tackles him. 

Aemond lets go of the rock to fight against your brother, who apparently didn’t come here unprepared, because he’s got a knife that he promptly sheathes. “How dare you?” he roars. “My sister helped you! She reprimanded us about not fighting fairly and you maim her!” 

He tries to fight off the grip on his wrist, his knife pointed at Aemond’s throat. “She should’ve let us kill you!”

His uncle manages to shove him off, throwing him on the ground right next to you, barely conscious and hopefully still breathing. “Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” you never quite understood why people described Aemond as spiteful, but now, laying on the ground in a pool of your own blood, you incoherently understand why. “You will die screaming in flames like your father did, bastards!”

The knife is on the ground, too, but as Aemond reaches for it, Lucerys is quicker. 

When the Kingsguard finally comes to the scene, they find a disfigured prince and an unconscious — dead-looking — princess, both still bleeding, both in immense pain. 

The first to snap out of his daze is Ser Harrold, who immediately comes to your side, glancing at the open wound and reaching for his handkerchief, pressing on the bleeding gash with it. This seems to snap you out of your trance, too, because you let out a blood curdling scream, thrashing against him. “Princess!” he exclaims, trying to calm you down. “I am merely trying to stop the bleeding!”

But it looks like you don’t comprehend anything anymore, blood covering your face and teeth, you find yourself spitting it. All you can think about is the fact that Aemond was going for a second strike. And suddenly, you hold no more pity for him, and find yourself agreeing with your grandsire. A spiteful brat, he had described him. 

Your grip on Ser Harrold’s arm would surely draw blood if it wasn’t for his armour, and you can see the terrified gazes of your brothers and cousins, clouded with tears, as the guards keep them away. As your vision darkens and your head spins, you think you can hear Nādrēsy roaring from outside. 

You are unable to stay conscious for much, slipping between being completely passed out and being awake but quite comatose, and you barely register Ser Harrold taking you in his arms — a guard with a screaming Aemond right behind — and getting you out of there. The thundering from your dragon outside just keeps getting louder and louder, pounding in your ears and shaking High Tide. 

The Grand Maester looks horrified when Ser Harrold brings you into his chambers, screaming about needing immediate help, but soon gets to work. Him and his apprentices work overtime, roughly patching Aemond up for the meanwhile because they have a dying girl in their hands, and it doesn’t take much for you to be mostly drunk off of milk of the poppy. 

When you wake, your head is in a tight bandage, and you’re laid down on a daybed, Rhaenys and Corlys by your side along with your brothers, still covered in blood. Their little butchered faces make you want to cry — you failed. As an older sister, you have one job — protecting your brothers — and you have failed. 

“Mummy,” is the first word that comes out of your mouth — like the scared little girl you are, you are searching for the comfort of the same person who has always given it to you, ever since you were but a blob in her womb: your mother. It’s rasped and barely a whisper, but Luke hears it. 

“Sister!” he screams, jumping on the daybed. “You are awake!”

Your head is pounding and your vision is blurred, but you recognize this room to be the best guest chambers of High Tide, the ones your grandparents sometimes let you to sleep in. If you are correct, right now it’s your grandsire who resides in them. There are murmurs around you, a maester nearing, and a heavy hand settling on your shoulder. 

“She’s not here, sweetling,” it’s your grandfather Corlys, but you don’t recognize him. “Daddy?” you ask, as the maester puts in your trembling hands a calice. You hesitantly drink from it, but as soon as the liquid touches your lips, the first instinct is to spit it out. Corlys grimaces. “He’s… he’s not here either, but we sent for them. They both should be here any moment now.”

“I thought you had died,” Jace sobs, “I could see your skull.”

“It will surely scar,” the maester murmurs, tightening the bandages. “Hopefully, it will do only that.”

A wave of nausea comes over you. The maester seems to notice, and he’s quick to ask for a bucket, passing it to you and patting your shoulder as you vomit in it, ears ringing. “That’s normal. She’ll probably have constant nausea for a while.”

The people around you murmur, and another voice makes itself known in the crowd. “—re’s my granddaughter? Where’s my granddaughter?!”

It’s your grandsire, the King, and he stops once he sees you, bandages bloody and bleary eyes, skin pale and covered in sweat. “What have they done to you, my girl?” he whispers, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks at the maester, “Is it serious?”

“I– we have no actual idea of how much it’ll affect her in the long term. In the best scenario, it’ll only scar and leave her with migraines every once in a while,” he grimaces, probably fearing for his life as the King looks furious, “I– in the worst… it, it could have some… permanent effects. Intellect-wise.”

Your grandsire shakes his head. “If you really value your head, dear maester, then you’ll make sure she doesn’t have any repercussions. Don’t forget you have the heir to the Iron Throne in your hands.”

The maester gulps, and Viserys sits by your feet on the daybed, gently placing a hand on your knee. “How are you feeling, sweetling?”

You whine, too nauseated at the moment to speak. The door is thrown open, your mother and uncle Daemon running in, Rhaenyra screaming your names. “Jace, Luke– dear Gods, my girl, what has happened to you?”

Her trembling eyes are frantic, looking at your bandaged wound and the blood splattered on your face, but she is quick to compose herself, putting up a facade in front of the whole court. Later, in the privacy of her chambers, she will hold her three babies and weep as much as she needs, but for now, she has to stay strong. 

Unexpectedly, it is you who starts crying first. Just a little girl crying for her mother, covered in blood and scared for what’s to come. Are you going to be ridiculed for your scar as Mushroom the fool is for his height? You sure hope not.

This enrages your grandsire even more, and he raises back on his feet, throwing his hands in the air. “Gods be good, how could this happen?” he turns to Ser Harrold, “How could you allow such a thing to happen?”

“The princes were supposed to be abed, my King,” the knight replies, tense himself. 

Viserys snarls. “And who had the night watch?”

The Lord Commander’s eyes dart towards Ser Criston, who speaks before he can even be interpelled. “The Prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace.”

Viserys barely spares a glance at Aemond, sitting by the fireplace, his left eye socket being stitched by the Grand Maester. “The Prince?” he says in disbelief. “The Prince? The heir to the Iron Throne could've been killed! You swore to protect my blood!”

A moment of silence. Ser Harrold speaks up. “I’m very sorry, Your Grace.” 

Ser Criston straightens. “The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from other princes, Your Grace.”

“That is no answer!” your grandsire yells, shaking his head. He looks at the Grand Maester, who is now almost finished with Aemond. “It will heal, will it not?” 

“The flesh will heal, but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”

The King sighs. Rhaenyra nods. “That is not even near enough punishment for what he has done to my daughter.”

Alicent’s eyebrows raise up to her hairline. “What he has done? My son has lost an eye. Over what? An innocent scuffle?” “That’s not true!” Jace screams. “He attacked Baela!”

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!” 

“He tried to kill our sister!”

“Enough!” Viserys rages, immediately shutting down the children. He looks over to you, eyes softening. “My dear, dear girl, are you able to tell me what has happened?”

You sniff. The tears have stopped by now, but the ringing is persistent. “I arrived a bit later than the others.” you murmur, eyes downcast, to your hand, tightly held in your mother’s grasp. “I… I tried to help Aemond. Gave him my hand.” 

You raise your eyes, still full of fear and regret. “Grandsire, he went for another strike.”

“It should be my son telling the story!” Alicent interrupts, voice cracking. “Lucerys Velaryon had a knife– Aemond was ambushed! They meant to kill my son!”

Before your grandsire can reply, you shake your head. Your mother is surprised to find no rage in your words, only… confusion. Disbelief, maybe. “Your son maimed at me when I was simply trying to help him.”

She scoffs. “He was merely defending himself.”

“I gave him my hand to help him off the ground. I had no bad intentions nor weapons with me.” 

You are just discovering one of the bad traits of the human species, Rhaenyra realises. Betrayal, and the worst kind. The one that comes when the intentions are the purest, but the receiver takes advantage. She wonders if after this you’ll be able to help anyone without doubts or second thoughts ever again. 

“He aimed for a kill.”

Viserys turns to his son. “Aemond, I will have the truth of what has happened, now.”

He looks lost. A little kid coming up with a lie. He’s older than you and yet so stupid. “T… they attacked me.”

“That's not true!” Jace bursts. “You called us bastards!”

Silence falls upon the room; you stare at your brother. Had you known that was the motif of the whole ordeal, you would have happily let them beat Aemond till he was no longer recognisable. Your mother pales, and opens her mouth to speak again. “Your Grace, my sons were attacked and forced to defend themselves and their sister, already struck down. My daughter is heir and my sons are in line for the Iron Throne; this is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might know where he heard such slanders from.”

“Over an insult?” Alicent asks, voice trembling. “My son has lost an eye.”

“Your son has permanently damaged the heir to the Iron Throne,” Viserys corrects her. “Now, you tell me, boy. Where did you hear these lies?”

“The insult was but a training yard buster,” his wife interjects, again. “The lot of boys. It was nothing.”

“Aemond,” your grandsire presses firmly. “I asked you a question.”

“Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? Where is the children’s father? Perhaps he might have something to say on the matter.” 

“I…” your grandsire seems to agree, even if doubtfully. “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, Your Grace,” your mother quickly replies. “ I... could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.”

“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture,” the Queen mumbles. The King chooses the best strategy — just ignoring her. “Aemond, look at me. Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

This is turning messy, you think, too many cards on the table. Your injury, Aemond’s lost eye, your brother’s questioned legitimacy, your father’s absence. For what specific thing are you here? For the fight that broke out or the years of bottled up rage and hatred? 

Aemond’s trembling too, you realise. Yet, for the first time in your life, you can’t find it in yourself to hold even a little bit of pity for him. “It… it was Aegon.”

His brother stands straighter beside him, taken aback. “Me?” 

“And you, boy? Where did you learn such calumnies?” the boy hesitates, “Aegon! tell me the truth of it, now!”

“I…” your uncle sighs, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “We… we know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them,”

Your grandsire is silent for a moment, shaking his head. “This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!”

You’ve never seen him so enraged — Viserys The Peaceful, the smallfolk calls him, and not as to jest. He really is a calm and collected person; he has simply had enough, it seems. 

“That is insufficient,” Alicent declares. “My son has been damaged permanently, my King. ‘Good will’ cannot make him whole.”

Your grandsire sighs. “I cannot restore his eye, Alicent. He has wound the heir to the throne. He should repute himself lucky to not have lost his head.”

His wife shakes her head, bewildered. “He is your son, Viserys, your blood! There is a debt to be paid!”

“My granddaughter has already paid more than enough for your son’s thoughtlessness!” Viserys screams. “He wounded an innocent child who was acting in good faith! She helped him and he spat in her face! That is how you are raising your children, Alicent? Aemond is three-and-ten, almost a man, and yet he attacked a girl not even nine summers old! He should be ashamed of himself.”

The Queen looks dazed. “He has paid more than it is acceptable.” her eyes flicker to you; a glimmer of greed, typical of HIghtowers, sits in them. “We… we could wed the children. Who would want the Princess, now that she has been ruined? My son would have a bride as consolation for the lost eye and she wouldn't have to worry about her future husband finding her… hideous, or worse, not finding a husband at all.”

Viserys takes a deep breath. “Alicent, the girl is only eight…”

Rhaenyra's eye twitches. The only thought of one of Alicent’s spawns getting on the throne by marrying you would've been enough to send her on a rampage. "So that she can say that her husband abused her even before the start of their marriage and you can have one of your children on the throne? I would rather my daughter die a spinster than to see that happen. Besides, she’s a Princess — a scar inflicted by your animal of a son could never manage to taint her beauty. It surely won’t help him in the search for a bride, though, so I can’t say I’m really surprised by this proposal.” your mother is trembling in anger as she says this, “I had already proposed something like this, Your Grace, so I don’t see why my proposal should be denied while you expect yours to be happily welcomed.”

A piece of information is missing, you realise, because you have no idea what your mother is talking about. “Very well,” replies Alicent, voice stone cold. “There is still a debt to be paid, and if the King doesn’t bring justice, the Queen will. I shall have one of your sons’ eyes in return. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

Luke screeches and you jump up from the bed, fighting nausea and headache, just to try to keep him safe. Your mother is already making sure of that, hiding him behind her, grabbing you too in the meanwhile, holding you close to her. “Mother!”

“Alicent,” your grandsire chastises.

“He can choose which eye he wants to keep — a luxury that was not granted to my son.”

“You will do no such thing,” the King commands to the knight, who looks conflicted. “Stay your hand.” 

“No, you are sworn to me!”

It seems Ser Cole is not that much of a fool to cut a prince’s eye out of his socket, and he takes a step back. “As your protector, my Queen.” 

“Alicent,” your grandsire starts, “this matter... is finished. Do you understand? And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed.”

Your mother takes a breath, and her grip on you and your brothers loosens. “Thank you, father.” 

It all happens so fast. 

In a second or two, Alicent has a knife in her hands — snatched from your grandsire’s belt — and your mother has bolted forward, holding her wrist in place, preventing her from attacking any of you. “Stay behind!” she yells, barely looking at you all — and before you can move to obviously disobey and try to smack Alicent as hard as you can, it’s uncle Daemon who comes up behind you to hold you back as the guards do the same to your brothers. 

You shriek, “Let me go, let me go! I’ll cut her eye out since she wants one so bad!” 

“And then what?” he taunts, putting a hand over your mouth. “For this all to escalate even more?”

“Stay with the King!”

“Alicent!”

“Hold your approach!”

“Stay your hand, Cole!”

Your trashing and turning against Daemon’s hold doesn’t cease, only worsening as your mother grunts in fatigue. “You’ve gone too far,” she grits, glaring at the Queen, steadily holding her wrist and preventing her from wounding her. 

“I?” Alicent asks. “What have I done but was expected of me?” she shakes her head, trembling. “Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law, while you flout it all to do as you please!”

“Alicent, let her go!”

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again!”

“Alicent, release the blade!”

“And now you take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled!”

“Your son almost killed my daughter!” your mother screams, her rage finally exploding. She snickers, but it’s clearly sarcastic. “Exhausting, isn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness.” she shakes her head, and her voice softens. “But now they see you as you are.”

Alicent manages to free herself from your mother’s grip; Rhaenyra is sent tumbling behind, but luckily there’s your grandfather to catch her. Her arm is profusely bleeding — the wench managed to cut her — and the dagger falls on the ground with a loud thud. 

Daemon finally lets you go, and you sprint to your mother, holding her wounded arm tight and sniffing into her dress. Despite everything, she still manages to hold you close — as she always does — pressing her nose into your hairline, murmuring sweet nothings and reassurances. 

Your grandsire is speechless; his eyes dart to your mother, then to Alicent, then to your mother again. In the end, he looks at his wife, an unreadable gaze in his eyes. “I accept Princess Rhaenyra’s proposal of marriage,” he declares, the room eerily silent. “and I declare my youngest daughter, Helaena, and my oldest grandson, Jacaerys, betrothed, to put an end to this rift between our family. They are to be married once the boy reaches the age of sixteen.” 

His face holds something you’ve never seen in his face, as he looks at the Queen. Is it disdain? You are too young to really know. “I hope you are happy now, wife.”

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.

…

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

One

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Synopsis: The history of House Targaryen changes with the birth of y/n Targaryen the child of Baelon the brave and Gael the winter child.

Note: I will be changing the timeline a bit, in the show Rhaenyra is born in 95 AC but I will be going with the book date which is 97 AC. I will be changing some aspects of the tv plot in favour of the books.

Masterlist Next->

93 AC Red Keep, King's Landing

„Mother, I do not understand why you are doing this! I do not need to re-marry I have two sons!” The spring Prince raised his voice at his mother, her disapproving expression tamed the anger bubbling in his chest. 

“My love, Alyssa died nine years ago. I grieve my child's passing more than anyone. I have lost nine children Baelon, nine. I am happy that the god's gave me all of you and many grandchildren. But we have to continue our line. With more blood of the dragon our dynasty is secure. Me and your father are the prime example of that. Our house thrives thanks to our sacrifices.” The ailing Queen Alysanne responded hands tucked in front of her abdomen.

"What sacrifices?!” Baelon raised his voice "You love father and father loves you. That is no sacrifice! That’s your duty and you have fulfilled it because of the love you hold for each other. You married father despite the wishes of grandmother and the hand. I should be given that right.”

Alysanne sighed deeply and sat on the comfortable chair in her solar.

“I know you still love Alyssa and the gods were cruel to take her away. But Gael is different, she is... you know how she is. Gael will be happy with whatever you give her. But what you need to do is produce heirs, to ensure the safety of our house.” 

„Mother I-" Baelon started but stopped, he sat on the queens bed. His large palms tangled in his silver hair. „I feel that if I marry Gael I am betraying Alyssa. Betraying her memory and what she means to me.”

The Queen looked with sadness in her eyes at her oldest surviving son. She sat next to the prince and took his hand in hers.

„Alyssa is resting with the seven. She looks from the heavens at you and your sons, I think she would understand. She was my smartest child after all.” Alysanne jested and Baelon let out a weak chuckle.

„I am build for the happiness or misery of our kingdom.” Baelon muttered after a long silence. The prince took a deep breath and nodded his head, he knows his mother is right. With Aemon’s death, he became the heir and to ensure his line survives he needs heirs. Despite his healthy children Viserys and Daemon, the gods were cruel.

“I will do as you wish mother.” Baelon whispered and kissed the wrinkled cheeks of his mother and departed from her solar. 

„I know you will my love. I hate to see you miserable but dark times are approaching and we must do everything in our power to prevent that.” The good Queen said. „I hope you find some happiness with Gael.”

„What does she think of this?” Baelon finally thought of how his sister of five and ten must feel about this.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Baelon the brave nodded and left his mothers solar to search for his youngest sister. The winter child Gael was unlike any of her siblings, her head was in the clouds. Because of Alysanne's dependance on Gael the princess was very sheltered and kept away from court. She liked to embroider and draw, but her works were... disturbing. Gael drew and embroidered macabre scenes of dragons killing different creatures.

Princess Gael was sitting beneath the weirwood tree, her hands moving skillfully on the embroidered dragon. Baelon looked at the winter child with a pitiful gaze.

„Gael?” The spring prince asked, the girl did not move. He noticed that her lips moved and yet no sound came out. „Gael?” He asked again, moving closer.

Baelon gently touched his sisters shoulder, her head jolted upwards abandoning the embroidery.

„Oh, brother.” She whispered quickly resumed her task not looking at her brother. They sat in serene silence, he thought of his sister Daella. They were similar in a way, both sheltered and shy.

„What are you embroidering?” He asked.

„It is father's dragon.” She answered simply, but the drawing didn't show only Vermithor, it breathed golden fire upon a green army. A pregnant silence fell between the two of them. Baelon sat next to his sister, their shoulders touching.

„Gael… I wanted to ask you.” Baelon started „Are you happy?”

Gael looked up at her brother a confused expression on her delicate features.

„I don’t know.” She muttered „Mother is sad, so that makes me sad. She said I will be happy with you.” Baelon winced at the mention of their union. „I wonder... Viserra wanted to marry you but father and mother objected." Gael muttered her voice thin.

"Viserra did not want to marry me for love, she wanted to be Queen."

Viserra was very alike to Saera her elder sister. Both beautiful and bold but vain and cunning.

„I did not wish to marry Viserra, father and mother agreed that what she did was wrong. I hope you know that.” Baelon responded thinking of Viserra with guilt. Perhaps if he had acted differently during that fateful night she met a different fate. A happy life in White Harbor instead of a broken neck.

„I do not wish to be Queen.” Gael whispered looking up at her brother.

„I know” Baelon answered.

...

Gael stood before a mirror as a maid fixed her violet wedding dress. She picked at the skins of her fingers in nervousness. 

“Child, stop that.” Queen Alysanne mused as she picked up on her daughters, nervous habit. “I know you are nervous but there is nothing to be nervous about. Your brother Baelon will treat you with utmost respect and you will be his queen someday. The greatest lady in the seven kingdoms.” The queen caressed her daughters pale cheek. Gael’s expression saddened, her hands trembling as she looked at her mother.

„Alyssa should be his Queen... Mother I-„ Gael began, she took a deep breath to calm her herself. „I dream of dragons.” She whispered, Queen Alysanne looked expectantly at her daughter expecting more.

„That’s natural daughter, you’re the blood of the dragon.”

„No mother you don’t understand!” Gael raised her voice, the Queen flinched. Her daughter has never raised her voice before. „These are no ordinary dragons, they’re beasts mother. They are not our dragons, none of them.”

„A nightmare my love.” Queen Alysanne whispered, caressing her daughters pale hands. „You are just nervous.”

Gael trapped the Queens’s hand in her own, with such strength Alysanne winced in pain. Scared eyes of the Queen searched for the calm orbs of her daughter only to find misty ones.

„Blood will flow.” Gael whispered letting go of her mother’s hands. Her eyes turned from misty to a bright violet, her breath steadied and she straightened herself.

The ceremony passed in a blur, the high Septon said the vows and the two Targaryen’s repeated. Baelon threw his cloth around Gael bringing the young girl into his protection. A chaste kiss followed and the crowd erupted in applause.

„It will be fine, Gael” Baelon whispered to his new sister-wife. „We’ll be okay.”

...

93 AC Dragonpit

Five months after the wedding of Gael and Baelon Targaryen the spring prince died of a burst belly in the tower of the hand. The princess pregnant with her first child wept bitterly at the pyre of her husband and brother. She caressed her swollen belly as she held her mother's hand. 

They stood among the rest of their house, the King standing at the feet of the pyre of his son, the bronze fury overlooked from the hills.

“Dracarys” The wise king commanded, his steed lit the corpse of the prince with dragon fire. The stench of the burning flesh of her husband was enough for the young princess to expel the contents of her stomach. 

...

“It’s been almost two morrows since her royal highness started the labour. She’s losing consciousness and blood, if the babe is not delivered soon it will die.” Maester Runciter informed the King and Queen of the delicate state of their daughter. Gael’s screams haunted the red keep, her voice sore from the hours of agonizing labour. 

“What do you suggest we do?” The Queen said worried, the maester hesitated before speaking. “Seven hells, speak!” 

“We would have to use the forceps to remove the babe from the canal, it may injure the infant but save it’s life” The maester muttered looking at his bloodied hands. 

„And Gael?” Alysanne whispered staring daggers at the maester.

„If we act quickly and remove the babe from her belly she might live but we are not certain. She has lost blood and her body is weak.”

“Jaehaerys…” The queen wept clutching her husband’s hand. The king was pale with fear, another child would be lost but a grandchild could be gained. He looked at his wife and then at the maester. 

“Do what you must..” The king ordered weakly.

Alysanne rushed to the chamber where her daughter was screaming in agony. The queen got on the bed caressing her daughters damp with sweat hair. 

“Mama?” Gael whispered weakly, her hands strongly clasped her mother’s dress. 

“Yes my sweet, it’s me.” Alysanne cried with a faint smile on her lips. She stroked her daughters cheek and kissed her forehead. Before she could raise her head Gael’s hand grabbed her hair. The winter child stared intently at her mother.

"The death of one gives an heir and god's beware she will bring despair. Red eyes with needle and thread change our death." Gael , absentmindedly whispered into the air, fear and anger boiling in her violet eyes.

Alysanne stared in shock at her daughter, it’s as if time stopped. She looked deeply into her daughters violet eyes. Her ears rang, the trance was interrupted when the cries of a babe reached her ears.

“A healthy girl, your grace.” The maester uttered holding the bloodied newborn. The midwife’s took the babe and swaddled it in fresh cloth. 

The Queens attention turned towards the crying babe, as her gaze left her daughter, weak hands slipped from the queen. The princesses breath shallowed, her eyes turning misty. Gael lost consciousness.

“Gael? Gael!” The Queen screamed, her lungs burned. Worry overtaking her body. She cried, her hands clasping her daughter. Blood and sweat staining the queen’s blue dress.

"Your Grace, the princess is weak but she might recover. Only time will tell now." The master said checking Gael.

Outside the chambers king Jaehaerys and his offspring gathered around him. Gael's scream of pain and Alysanne's cries haunted the Red keep.

“Your grace ‘tis a girl.” A maid walked out of the chamber, her eyes glossy with tears. “The maester wishes to know the name.”

The old king stared at the infant, wisps of silver hair, thin brows, full cheeks and piercing red eyes. He caressed the ample cheek of the baby and in turn she giggled. The king smiled at his granddaughter, her little fingers wrapping around the bony finger of Jaehaerys.

“y/n” The King muttered.

...

The winter child suffered from childbed fever, her daughter y/n was born small but healthy. To prevent the infant from catching the illness she was taken to separate chambers. Maester Elysar visited the princesses chambers twice a day to change the wet rags that cooled her body and provided small doses of milk of the poppy to alleviate the pain.

Princess y/n was visited often by her kin. Her two half-brothers Viserys eight and ten and Daemon four and ten watched their little sister curiously. Viserys's wife of two years Aemma stood faithfully at his side. Their cousin Rhaenys one and twenty with her husband lord Corlys Velaryon watched the squirming child.

"Her eyes are red." Rhaenys stated staring at the little princess. Daemon picked the infant from her cradle and held her securely in his arms.

"Quite fascinating isn't it?" Viserys mused, the rest nodded.

"Has there even been a Targaryen with red eyes?" Aemma questioned caressing the chubby cheeks of her sister in law.

"None that I'm aware of." Corlys the eldest answered "I have never seen red eyes, not even in Essos."

"Perhaps the blood of old Valyria is strong in her." Daemon said rocking the infant in his arms, the child smiled gleefully.

"I do not think it is a good omen." Aemma whispered caressing her pregnant belly.

"An omen of what?" Daemon said quick to anger.

"I do not mean any insult good brother, it is just peculiar." The Arryn answered cautiously glancing at Daemon.

The King and Queen entered the nursery putting an end to the conversation.

"Your Graces" Lord Corys said bowing his head as the monarchs approached their grandchild.

"How is little y/n?" Jaehaerys asked taking the little princess from Daemon's arms.

"A true dragon grandsire." The prince answered, following his sister's every little move.

"Are there no eggs to be put in her cradle?" Alysanne questioned glancing over her kin.

"Not that I'm aware of grandmother." Viserys answered truthfully.

"She has no need for an egg my love." Jaehaerys interrupted his sister wife, his deep purple eyes focused on the princess in his arms. "One I pass she will mount Vermithor and take him as her steed."

The room fell silent after the King's statement. With peace and quiet princess y/n fell asleep and the room began to empty, Daemon was the last to leave.

Hours later Gael entered her daughter's nursery. Drenched in sweat her linen tunic clung to her body, long silver strands were stuck to her pale face. She approached her daughter's cradle and placed a kiss on her head.

"I am so sorry..." She whispered as her eyes were glued to her child. y/n slept comfortably as the cool air of spring chilled the stuffy room. Gael glanced at her daughter for the last time.

The waters of blackwater bay were cool, they brought comfort to Gael as she stepped into the water.

It was said that Princess Gael passed away from childbed fever. But that is only half true, after the death of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne it was revealed that Gael suffering from fever she walked into Blackwater bay and drowned. Alysanne's youngest and most favored daughter, Gael, committed suicide in 95 AC. Gael's death broke Alysanne, for she had outlived all but two of her children. No longer able to bear living at King's Landing and the Red Keep, Alysanne returned to Dragonstone, where she had spent the happiest days of her life. Despite the sadness that overtook the court after princess Gael's passing the realm rejoiced over the fruit of her demise. -From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

god's of the sky

Two

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader, Qoren Martell x reader

Masterlist <-previous , next->

100 AC Dragonstone

Alysanne's youngest and most favored daughter, Gael, died during childbirth with her first child the princess y/n. Gael's death broke the good Queen, for she had outlived all but two of her children. No longer able to bear living at King's Landing and the Red Keep, Alysanne returned to Dragonstone. She died of a wasting illness on that took away most of the joys in her life, her body was cremated, and her ashes were interred on Dragonstone.

Little y/n watched curiously from her grandsire's arms her head tucked in his neck. She saw tears leaving the King's eyes, his expression somber and broken.

"My little princess." Jaehaerys whispered. With no parents of her own, the King became the guarding of his fifth grandchild. The little princess as the King affectionately called her became a crutch for the wise monarch just as her mother has been for Queen Alysanne.

His age prevented him from flying on dragon back as well as most of activities that brought him joy. Jaehaerys ordered that the crib of little y/n be moved to the chambers that once belonged to him and his sister-wife Queen Alysanne.

From then on princess y/n was always with the King. The old monarch played and read to the little child. Due to his condition Jaehaerys was bedridden for most of his days, rarely leaving his chambers. To the surprise of many his granddaughter accompanied him everywhere, to small council meeting, official suppers and many other. From then on the little princess was dubbed Jaehaerys's shadow.

...

101 AC Harenhall

„Mama who is that?” The great-granddaughter of King Jaehaerys princess Rhaenyra asked her mother, curiously watching the six year old girl talk to the king.

„This is your aunt, Rhaenyra.” Aemma whispered gently stroking Rhaenyra’s silver hair. „Her name is y/n. If the King allows it you two will be brought up together.”

„y/n…” Rhaenyra muttered leaning on her mothers shoulder looking intensely at the girl. „Can I show her Syrax?”

„Not today but one day my sweet” Aemma responded smiling at her daughters love for her steed.

„Aemma!” Viserys called searching for his wife. He stopped once he saw his daughter and wife awaiting at his presence.

„I am here my love.” Aemma said rising from the seat, her pregnant belly swollen and heavy. „Rhaenyra go with Daena to your nursery.”

After the death of Queen Alysanne and their two oldest sons Aemon and Baelon, Jaehaerys called upon the great council to decide the matter of succession. Fourteen claims have been brought before the council. Nine lesser claims were quickly discarded.

Archmaester Vaegon the only living son of the old king was passed over due to his vows, and Princess Rhaenys and her daughter Laena were passed over on account of their sex. The assembled lords then focused down on two major candidates: Prince Viserys Targaryen and Rhaenys's son Laenor Velaryon.

Primogeniture favored Laenor, as his mother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, was the daughter of Prince Aemon Targaryen, who had been the eldest living son of King Jaehaerys. Yet proximity favored Viserys, who, in addition, had been the last Targaryen prince to ride Balerion.

Rhaenys stood proud with her husband Lord Corlys Velaryon and her young children at her side. Viserys along with his pregnant wife rivalled Rhaenys's claim. Despite the fondness the princess held for her cousin she despised him in this moment. She had more of a claim than Viserys but men would sooner put the realm to the torch than crown a woman.

The little girl was seated in her own little throne next to the King, she watching curiously the people before her. The soft giggles of his granddaughter brought Jaehaerys a moment of peace in this troubling moment. He was overly fond of his granddaughter, a sweet and charming babe she was, she reminded him of his first daughter, Daenerys.

In the end, the lords in the realm saw the most importance in having the male line taking precedence over the female line. While the maesters never revealed the actual numbers, it was rumored that Prince Viserys had won by a twenty to one vote.

Begrudgingly Rhaenys's supporters accepted the great council's choice. The realm decided to name Viserys the heir to the Iron Throne and prince of Dragonstone.

...

101 AC Red Keep 

The wise King Jaehaerys threw a great feast in honour of his granddaughters eight name day. No expense was spared, lords from all over the realm gathered in king's landing to attend the celebration.

Little y/n watched curiously from her grandfather's lap. Her little fingers playing with the material of the King's attire.

The king held fondness in his heart for his granddaughter. A happy and lively girl. So much unlike Gael, who cried restlessly. He smiled at the memory of his late daughters.

The six year old clumsily played with her food, she stared at her grandsire and the court before them.

The celebration continued lords and ladies danced, drank and ate their fill. It was almost after the hour of the owl that the guests began to return to their chambers.

"Come little princess, I must show you something."

The old king summoned the commander of the King's guard ser Gyles Morrigen, and ordered a carriage to be prepared at once.

"Your grace it is unwise for you to leave the keep at this time." Ser Gyles said unsure.

"I will hear none of it." The king muttered and the carriage took off towards the dragopit.

The little princess awoke once the carriage stopped at the gates of the dragonpit. She looked around curiously and looked back at her grandsire.

"Zaldrīzes!" The little girl mumbled holding onto the king's clothes. The king nodded and led them to where his steed the bronze fury rested. (Dragons)

"Bring Vermithor." The King ordered the stationed dragon keepers. The bronze fury lazily stepped out of the dragonpit "Issa jorrāelagon raqiros" (my dear friend)

The large beast looked at his rider than at the little girl next to the old King. In turn the girl let go of her grandsire's hand and took confident steps towards the dragon. The King watched curiously, nobody has ever dared to approach his steed with such confidence.

"Mithor!" The girl said, her chubby hands clapped. The bronze fury looked curiously at the little human before him. He laid his large head on the ground next to the baby. "Mithor" The girl repeated, as she was one step away from the beast. With no hesitance, she laid her head on the dragons snout, lightly petting his once shiny scales.

The king looked at the scene before him in awe. The blood of old Valyria was strong in his little princess, a future dragon lord he thought. Just like Aegon the conqueror has been. He watched as his granddaughter talked and petted the bronze fury. His body ached yet he smiled, moments passed in serene silence. But the pain soon became unbearable for the old King.

"Come y/n, we must return." The king said interrupting the bonding of his steed with his grandchild. The girl run up to him obediently, petting Vermithor one last time. The king took little y/n by her hand and returned to the carriage.

"You my grandchild may not have been what was desired but you are no less dear to me." He said to the child "Once I pass your brother will inherit the crown but you my little princess will claim Vermithor. You will make house Targaryen stronger than it has ever been."

...

"Grandsire can you tell me a story?" You pleaded sitting on Jaehaerys's bed, the king smiled.

"What would you wish to hear?" He asked quietly, his voice raspy and hoarse.

"What was grandsire Aegon like?"

"Oh sweet child... I was your age when he died. My father your great grandsire Aenys became King but he wasn't well loved."

"Then your uncle Maegor took the throne after his death." You said quietly.

"Yes, he usurped my elder brother Aegon. But many didn't think that Maegor's accession as treason, they were worried that my brother would be a weak king like our father." Jaehaerys said reminiscing his past "He was King for five years, until his mysterious death."

"Mysterious?" You questioned staring up at your grandsire's face from his lap.

"In the same day as Lord Rogar Baratheon declared me King, Maegor died impaled by the swords of the Iron Throne." The king said "Many believe that the Iron Throne is capable of killing anyone unfit of it."

"Have you ever been cut, grandfather?" You asked curiously.

"I have not, no."

"Was Aegon rejected by the throne?" Your grandsire let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"Aegon built it sweet girl. He was the one that conquered the seven kingdoms."

"Except of Dorne." You added.

"That is true, but we have won four wars against Dorne." Your grandsire noticed you were not convinced "What would you do to bring Dorne under our rule?"

You perked up at his question and thought for a moment.

"War has done nothing to bring Dorne into the seven kingdoms, perhaps a marriage would be more successful." Jaehaerys raised his long silver eyebrows.

"Who would you offer to Dorne?" He questioned curiously.

"Princess Mara has a son Qoren, I would offer an engagement to him as he is the next Prince of Dorne."

"Would you marry him?"

"If it would aid your rule grandfather then yes." You stated confidently.

"Even if you have never met him?"

You nodded cautiously.

"I can get to know him..."

"If you wish I could invite him to court." You smiled and laid down on his lap. "Your great great grandsire would be very proud of you, too smart for your own good."

You smiled up at the wise King as he caressed your hair.

"He was charismatic yet commanding, but many did not know him. His only friend was Orys Baratheon his half-brother. He spoke to my elder brothers Aegon and Viserys and myself of the conquest, of Old Valyria and the Dragonlords before him."

"Like Gaemon the Glorious?" You asked curiously

"Yes sweet girl, in 114 before the conquest he along with his father Aenar and Daenys the dreamer came to Westeros before the doom of old Valyria."

"I wish to know what Valyria was like." You murmured thinking of the ancient civilisation.

"Valyria was filled with Dragonlords, Targaryens were one of the minor houses that populated the peninsula. But through dreams we became the most powerful house in the known world."

As your grandsire told you stories of your ancestors sleep began to take over you.

...

In a month Prince Qoren arrived in the Red Keep, you were giddy to meet the boy. You stood behind your brothers as they welcomed him in the royal courtyard. A blush appeared on your cheeks as you saw the future Prince of Dorne.

"Your highnesses." He bowed his head as he approached you all with his entourage. Rhaenyra giggled as she saw the blush appear on your features.

"Hush." You whispered to her, she snuck out her tongue.

Qoren was not a lot older than you, only five years. Despite being only one and ten he was a handsome boy. Your grandsire to ill to receive his new guest stayed in his chambers, opting for meeting the prince during supper.

"It is a pleasure to be meeting you Prince Qoren." Viserys said, his wife Aemma standing beside him.

"His Grace has invited you to supper this evening." Aemma said leaning on Viserys's shoulder. The boy nodded and smiled.

"A great honour, thank you your highnesses."

You smiled at his charm, you couldn't wait for the supper to begin so you could meet the prince and get to know him.

Daemon however didn't seem too pleased with the Dornishman's presence, he scowled at the prince. You giggled at your brother's obvious resentment towards a boy almost ten years younger. Rhaenyra however was pleased with a new face in court.

"What do you think of him?" Rhaenyra whispered to your ear as Qoren was led away by servants to his new chambers.

"I have not even met him, therefore I cannot say."

"I bet you look forward to meeting him though." She cheekily answered placing her head on your shoulder, you giggled and nodded. Daemon's scowl seemed to grow even bigger.

Quickly hours passed and your maids appeared to dress you. A pale purple dress with wide sleeves and embroidered silver dragons at the side. You smiled gleefully as the maids tied the gown on you. Soon ser Ryam Redwyne knocked on the doors of your chambers to escort you. You smiled seeing the dark haired knight.

"Princess." He bowed his head

"Ser Redwyne." You answered a wide smile on your face "I hope you are doing well."

"With your presence princess I am." The knight answered and led you to the small council chamber where the supper was to take place.

The walk through Maegor's holdfast was quick and quaint, the spare nobles and servants bowed as you walked by them.

You saw that only your grandsire was present, you skipped towards him and placed a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. He smiled seeing you.

"Good morrow y/n" Jaehaerys said placing his bony hand on your silver locks affectionately.

"Where is everyone?" You asked sitting on his left.

"I have asked them to come later." His grace answered and you nodded "I wish to ask you something sweet girl... Do you want to marry?"

You looked a bit dumbfounded at your grandsire.

"One day, as is my duty." You answered

"Your grandmother was the one to arrange marriages for half the realm, I think she would support my intuition... I wish to know what you think of Prince Qoren once the supper is over."

"Certainly." You mumbled your conversation was cut short as the room began to fill. Viserys and his family along with Daemon, the small council along with Rhaenys and her family the last to enter was Prince Qoren himself. He sat next to you as was the King's desire.

"Princess y/n" Qoren said as glanced at you.

"Prince Qoren it is nice to meet you" You mumbled a bit shy. The curly haired boy smiled your way.

"You look very beautiful, princess." He said, a small smile on his lips.

"Thank you, you look very handsome yourself."

Jaehaerys smiled seeing his favourite grandchild happy and laughing. Soon the servants arrived with various dishes ranging from roasted pigs to pies. The cups were full of wine and laughter echoed through the small council chamber.

"Perhaps we could visit the gardens on the morrow?" Qoren asked quietly, you nodded and smiled.

"I would enjoy that very much." You answered, you said your goodbyes with the prince as he returned to your chambers. Feeling a bit tired yourself you decided to retire. The adults drank and laughed.

You laid comfortably in the canopy bed, the cool breeze of spring caressed your covered body. As you were drifting off to sleep you heard shuffling, you glanced around your room the search for the source of the noise.

"Rhaenyra?" You asked as the princess climbed into your bed. "What are you doing here? You should be in your chambers, it is late."

"Do you like him?" Rhaenyra teased and a blush appeared on your cheeks.

"Do I like who?" You answered evading her question. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. You sighed admitting defeat.

"He is nice." You mumbled playing with your fingers. The silver haired princess smiled at your answer.

"Grandsire will be pleased then." Rhaenyra murmured "He found you a husband without much difficulty."

"I am too young to marry Rhaenyra..!" You whispered angrily.

"But you want to marry him if you do then you will become Princess y/n of Dorne!" She sang jumping on your bed.

"What if I want to marry him?"

"Marriage is boring, boys are boring!" She said her brows furrowed and a scowl appeared on her face. "You should stay with me, we would eat cake and listen to songs and dance!"

"But it won't be that way..." You said sadly "Sooner or later you and I will have to marry and produce children."

"I will never ever have children!" Rhaenyra stated crossing her arms as she sat in front of you. "The babies in mama's belly never come and that makes mama and papa sad."

"If you say so Rhaenyra." You said sadly stroking the realm's delight hair. She leaned into your touch and laid next to you, quickly falling asleep. It soon became a habit that Rhaenyra slept in your chambers instead of her own. You did not mind, at night it was awfully quiet in the Red Keep and you felt alone.

"I envy you..." You whispered when you made sure that the silver haired princess fell asleep.

You awoke early the sun was barely over the horizon, Rhaenyra sprawled herself all over your bed. You sighed and covered the girl with blankets and left her to sleep.

The castle was quiet, not wanting to bother your maids you dressed yourself. A burgundy dress with gold vines embroidered on the corsage, the sleeves reached your elbows but the material continued.

Perhaps after breaking fast with your grandsire, you will walk the garden's with Qoren. It was a pleasant thought, at your door stood ser Clement Crabb.

"Ser Clement." You said "Could you please escort me to my grandsire?" You asked politely at the elder knight.

"Of course, princess." He said and walked ahead through Maegor's holdfast.

"y/n?" Jaehaerys asked from his bed as you entered his chambers, the smell of incense abused your nose.

"Good morrow, grandfather." You said happily and skipped towards the old King. "Ser Clement could you ask for breakfast to be brought?"

The knight nodded and left the chambers.

"You seem happy." Jaehaerys stated, as you helped him sit up in his bed, placing sating pillows behind his back.

"I am excited yes. I am to spend the afternoon with Prince Qoren."

"Ah, yes..." The King nodded and smiled. "What do you think of him? Is he worthy?"

"He is... clever and thoughtful." Your voice was thin "I hope to get to know him better today. But I do enjoy his presence and look forward to the stroll."

"That is good, sweet girl. He should be honoured merely by your presence."

"Grandsire!" You chuckled at his grace's boldness.

"I know it will be some time till you are eligible to marry but I wish to give you the choice of a suitor. Gods know that forcing a Targaryen to marry only brings misery."

"Is that why you married grandmother?"

"Precisely little dragon, our mother tried to marry her off to Orryn Baratheon hearing this she came to me and we fled to Dragonstone and wed." Jaehaerys reminisced about the past, the happiest days of his life were spent on Dragonstone with Alysanne.

The servants arrived with plates of fruits and cheeses, oatmeal and pies. Ser Ryam Redwyne helped your grandsire sit in a chair on the balcony of his chambers. You laughed as you ate occasionally helping his grace.

"Your Grace." The Kingsguard interrupted, you stared curiously at the famed knight. "Prince Qoren is here." Jaehaerys nodded and the Dornish man entered.

"Prince Qoren come." He asked and the prince obliged taking a seat on your left. "My granddaughter is very fond of pomegranates... I assume that they grow abundantly in Dorne."

"Oh yes, your grace. After all Dorne is the main export of exotic fruits." The dark haired prince answered a confident smile on his lips. You caught on, your grandsire was a very smart man.

"Grandsire, I think that the fruits that grow in Dorne are not his biggest interest." You mused cutting a piece of a fruit pie.

"As the future prince of Dorne I must be well aquainted with the land I will rule. That includes the fruit." He jested, the king smiled and chuckled. Your Grandsire quickly tiered himself, you helped him to his bed as the servants took away the plates.

"Please help yourself to the leftovers." You said to the servants, they nodded thankfully and left. "Prince Qoren shall we walk to the gardens?"

"As you wish princess." He responded and took you by the arm and you walked to Rhaenys's gardens escorted by Ser Clement.

"Thank you for sparing me the time of day, your highness." Qoren spoke glancing at you with his brown orbs.

"You do not need to be so modest, my prince."

"It is not everyday I get to be graced with the presence of a princess of the realm." You smiled bashfully at Qoren.

"You are too kind."

"I cannot help it, you are perfection itself." Qoren said

"Should I be like my aunt Viserra and simply agree?" You jested, the dark haired boy chuckled.

"I would not blame you princess."

You strolled comfortably through the gardens of the red keep. The prince proved to be wonderful company, charming and funny.

"Your Highness I know that we are much too young." The prince began taking your hand in his "But I would be honoured if you considered me as a potential husband." A bit appaled and flustered you simply nodded. The prince smiled bashfully and kissed your hand.

A few letters were exchanged between King Jaehaerys and Princess Mara. The fruit of these negotiations became the betrothal of Prince Qoren Martell and Princess y/n Targaryen. If the pair were to conceive a child, Dorne would officially become a part of the seven Kingdoms. Without war or conquest the wise King, the Conciliator managed to complete the work of his grandsire. But it wouldn't happen if it weren't for his beloved grandchild, princess y/n.

Prince Qoren stayed at court for many moons but word has spread that his mother Princess Mara has fallen ill. Worried for his mother he decided to return back to the south. Tears glossed over your eyes as you learnt that Qoren had to leave.

"Do not cry princess." He said as you stared bitterly at the ground.

"I am not crying." You stubbornly said, Qoren laughed at your words.

"I will see you soon, y/n."

"Promise me you'll be back." You whispered taking the boys hand, a small smile appeared on his thin lips.

"I promise." He said and placed a kiss to your cheek, tears dropped from your red orbs as you engulfed Qoren into a hug. "We will marry soon princess and then I will never leave your side."

"Promise it! Promise it on the old Gods and the new." You said strongly into his chest.

"I Prince Qoren of House Martell, future Prince of Dorne promise by the old Gods and the new that we will marry and that I will never leave your side until the stranger comes."

"I Princess y/n of House Targaryen, promise by the old Gods and the new that I will be by your side until the stranger comes." You said your vows after letting Qoren go.

"Goodbye, princess." He whispered and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

You watched as he climbed on his sand steed, salty tears stained your cheeks as you watched him leave.

...

102 AC Red Keep

When the bells rung, maids and guards kept y/n away from her grandsire's chambers.

The king is dead.

Tears flowed from the red orbs of the Targaryen Princess. The halls around her felt suffocating, silence rang in her ears. She stared intently at the doors of her grandsire's chambers.

y/n ran from the stench of death and yet it followed her. The cold feeling of the stranger hot on her tail. Before she knew it, her feet had taken her to the stables. She quickly jumped on a horse that was closest to her. Without a saddle she galloped through the busy streets of King's Landing. Even in the hour of the eel, the laughter of whores and lords echoed through the city.

Tears streamed down y/n's ample cheeks. She saw the dome of the dragonpit. Easily evading the dragon keepers she snuck into the many caves of the structure, easily finding her way to the bronze fury. It was as if she was simply following after a thread. Knowing where he was despite not stepping a foot in the dragon pit before.

"Vermithor?" y/n asked looking around the vast cave littered with bones, a deep grumble made her turn her gaze. The bronze fury rested on the ground, his nostrils expelled smoke. The dragon instantly stared at the girl before him. Without a second though she threw herself at Vermithor's snout petting his horns.

"māzigon, ivestragī īlva sōvegon hēnkirī" y/n pleaded her cheek pressed against his bronze scales. Vermithor roared, one wing moved then the other, his maw opened and closed. y/n looked expectantly at the bronze fury. When the beast lowered his head in her direction she smiled and climbed atop of the old steed of her grandsire. (come, let us fly together)

"Ivestragī's jikagon, Vermithor!" The dragon roared and rised from his position moving expertly among the many corridors of the dragonpit. When the light of the moon reached her eyes she laughed excitedly. Taking Vermithors reins and deepening her seat in the brown and gold saddle. "Sōves, Vermithor!" (Let's go! Fly!)

The beast roared and spread his wings, taking flight. The dragon keepers shouted and exclaimed as they noticed the bronze fury leaving the dragonpit, atop his back the little princess laughed and smiled at the people under her. The dragon took off and y/n screamed with happiness.

Grandsire I have done what you told me. I have claimed Vermithor.

While the bells rung signalising King's Jaehaerys's death the city watched as the bronze fury circled the Red Keep. Golden fire escaping it's maw.

...

The body of the wise and beloved King Jaehaerys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm laid wrapped in cloth at the burning pyre. Vermithor looked on from the hills at the royal funeral. The high Septon said his prayers in honour of the late King. Thousands of nobles and small folk gathered to witness the funereal of the beloved King.

"May he rest with his sister wife Queen Alysanne and their many children. The god's blessed their union and King Jaehaerys's rule. We are surrounded by the fruits of his labour."

y/n looked on with sad eyes at the pyre before her. The body of her beloved grandsire wrapped in cloth. Her gaze travelled from her cousins to her brothers. She examined their saddened expressions. Then she looked at the bronze fury, he too looked sad, his dark eyes focused on the corpse of his former rider.

"y/n, my sweet it is time." The new Queen Aemma whispered to her sister in law. The seven year old looked at the silver haired woman and nodded. The little princess let go of Rhaenyra hand and stepped forward.

"Dracarys"

Vermithor roared and his throat begun to bubble with fire. The dragon breathed at the pyre. The flames delicately caressed y/n cheek, the same way Jaehaerys used to do. Salty tears flowed from the red eyes of the little princess.

The princess y/n Targaryen became the youngest dragon rider in recorded history. On the same night as her grandsire passed she secretly mounted the bronze fury at just eight years of age. This only shows the bond that y/n held with the dragon. -From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

god's of the sky

Three

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader, Qoren Martell x reader

Masterlist <-previous , next->

108 AC Dragonstone

Vermithor screeched circling the castle of Dragonstone along Caraxes and Syrax. You sat next to your brother as he showed Rhaenyra his sword Darksister. The waves of blackwater bay crashed against the many cliffs of the island.

Rhaenyra quickly lost interest in her uncle's sword and ran away to play in the grass, you stayed watching your niece.

"What are you thinking about?" Daemon asked placing a stray strand of your silver hair behind your ear.

"I think that... that Aemma will die soon." You muttered staring at the endless sea, Daemon stilled and stared at you curiously.

"What makes you say that?" He questioned following your gaze.

"The pregnancies are killing her, Viserys is adamant about having a son. Until she delivers a boy he will not stop." You said watching seven year old Rhaenyra play in the meadow.

"He wants a son so I can stop being his her." Your brother answered.

"You are not his heir." Daemon furrowed his brows staring at you expectantly "Viserys never named you his heir, you chose to believe that you are but you're not. I do not think you would make a good King... You're a formidable warrior and dragon ride yes but you lack patience."

Daemon chuckled

"If I'm not his heir then who is? He has no son, by law I am his successor." Your brother was quick to anger, you sighed as you saw rage bubbling inside him.

"Rhaenyra is his heir."

"Rhaenyra is a girl. The council of 101 AC established an iron precedent on matters of succession. The Iron Throne could not pass to a woman, or to a male descendant of a woman." Daemon said remembering the succession crisis.

"I know the law Daemon I was there. Times change..." You refused the Andals tradition of male primogeniture. "In old Valyria men and women were equal, the eldest child was the heir. The decision to put our brother on the throne was made because we rule a country populated by Andals with different customs."

"You're too smart for your own good. If you weren't as pretty you would be a second Vaegon." You chuckled at Daemon's joke. Uncle Vaegon was an archmaester in the citadel, a brooding and cold man. You have met your uncle a few times, he wasn't welcoming or nice but he knew of your passion for books. He lend you many books that resided in the citadel.

"Uncle Vaegon is smart." You smiled at your brother.

"Vaegon is a boring, cold old man."

"He is one and forty."

"You're very adamant on defending Vaegon, perhaps you hold something more than fondness for your uncle?" Daemon laughed and a blush of embarrassment coated your cheeks.

"I am defending our uncle because he doesn't deserve your insults." You muttered bringing your knees to your chin. Your brother chuckled and threw his arm around you and he kissed the top of your head.

"I am merely jesting sweet girl."

"I know... Will you be leaving again?" You asked your brother quietly.

"Perhaps, I have to return to Runestone by the order of our brother." Daemon said with venom in his words. You hummed and leaned on his shoulder.

"I do not want to see you go, the court is so boring without your squabbles with every noble." You mumbled, your brother chuckled.

"And you are better?" He questioned "You hate court with every fiber of your being."

"I do not hate court is it simply boring. With Grandsire no-one cares about me, it is Rhaenyra they want." You said tears burning behind your eyes. "It is her they call the realms delight while I rot in the shadows."

"Hmm... perhaps you could use a change of scenery?" Daemon muttered and you immediately perked up.

"Can we go to Essos?!" You asked quickly, your brother smiled.

"Perhaps, or you can go to the Vale with me." You nodded happily and hugged Daemon.

"I wish to see Valyria." You whispered in his shoulder, Daemon tensed.

"I know but you mustn't... Do you know our great aunt's story?"

"Which great aunt? Rhaena?" You asked curiously sitting in Daemon's lap.

"Not Rhaena, her daughter Aerea."

"She died of a fever." You answered remembering your great aunt.

"Not entirely sweet girl. One night Aerea snuck into Dragonmont and claimed Balerion, no one has seen her or the black dread for over a year but one day she returned. Aerea was severely ill as was Balerion, she was almost unrecognizable; she was stick thin, and whatever clothes she still wore were nothing more than tatters. Her hair was matted and a tangled mess, and her eyes were bloody. The knight that carried her to the maester said that he felt her fever through his armor and something was moving inside her body." You listened intensely to the story "Aerea's fever was one unlike anything he had seen before. The septon described her as burning, with a red skin and having barely an ounce of flesh upon her bones, appearing gaunt and starved. Swellings moved under her skin, Barth said she was cooking from within. Smoke came from her mouth, nose, and her nether regions. Aerea's eyes cooked within her skull until they burst. When the princess was lowered into the tub of ice, "slimy, unspeakable things" making horrible sounds emerged from under her skin—one as long as his arm—but the "creatures of heat and fire" died from the cold of the ice."

You listened horrified to the story your brother was saying, it was during your grandsire's rule. But what did Aerea's illness had to do with Valyria. Daemon noticing your confusion continued.

"Septon Barth speculated that Balerion, not Aerea, had chosen their destination; as likely the only living creature in the world that had known Valyria before it was destroyed in the Doom, Balerion had returned home, where accursed creatures as those found inside Aerea now lived."

“Does that mean that dragons live in Valyria?" You asked curiously only one thing on your mind.

"Those creatures inside Aerea were not dragons sweet girl." Daemon responded. "If you wish to know more of these beasts Septon Barth wrote a book about dragon origins."

"That book is looked down upon..." You mumbled.

"The citadel only wishes to give us information they deem suitable, that doesn't mean you shouldn't read the book." Your brother mused "I just happen to have a copy..."

"Brother please! Can you lend it to me! Please!" You pleaded grabbing Daemon's shoulders and shooting his body with little strength you had. Your elder brother laughed and nodded.

"In return I have a favour to ask of you..." He said mysteriously you quieted down and nodded.

"I'll do anything!" You said, Daemon tapped his cheek with his finger. You smiled and left a smooch on his face.

"We should be returning soon or else our brother might strangle me." Daemon mused.

"Rhaenyra!" You shouted, the girl turned quickly and ran towards you. "Come, we must return." You said and grabbed her hand, you glanced up at the sky to see your dragons in the sky. It was as if they could read your thoughts, quickly abandoning their chase and landing on the ground.

You smiled and skipped towards the bronze fury, you scratched the scales under his maw. The dragon purred happily leaning into your touch.

"Once we return I shall order that a deer be brought to your cave." You said in your mother tongue, knowing of your dragons preference for deer. You easily climbed the large dragon and left Dragonstone.

...

You entered your chambers clad in bronze dragon leather mimicking the scales of your mount.

"Your Highness." Mya, your maid bowed as you approached your desk throwing the gloves off to the side.

"Good morrow Mya." You said glancing at the books and parchment on the wooden table. "Any letters?"

The maid shuffled and retrieved a scroll, sealed by the familiar sun and spear. You smiled breaking the insignia and read the letter send by Qoren.

"Is the prince still smitten?" Mya asked curiously, you nodded a small smile on your lips. Despite seven years apart you and Qoren often wrote to each other.

You said placing the parchment on your desk. Grabbing a spare parchemnt and dipping your feather in quill you begun to write a response. "Mya, if you could pass this letter to the rookery." Pouring the hot wax over the letter you placed your seal. A bronze dragon on a black background.

"At once your highness." The maid said, bowed and rushed to the rookery.

You giddily smiled and left your chambers searching for you eldest brother.

Ser Harrold Westerling dutifully stood before the King's chambers. His silver armor illuminated by the torches.

"Princess." The knight bowed his head, and announced your presence.

"Viserys!" You smiled and rushed to hug your brother.

"y/n, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?" He asked hunched over his model of old Valyria.

"Can't I visit my brother the King?" You mused glancing at the Valyria sculpture. Viserys laughed and ushered you inside.

"This tower is wrong." you said pointing at the build. Viserys curiously looked to what you're referring to. "It should be holding liquid fire as an heraldry to Gaelithox."

"My, you are right."

"Of course I'm right... Valyria is a fascinating civilisation isn't it."

"If only we could bring it back." Viserys sighed sadly.

"But we can Viserys... your are the King, your word is law."

"It is not that simple y/n" He started "You know how hard grandsire fought for the doctrine of exceptionalism."

"Excactly, grandsire laid the fundaments we need. Now we can use them to build!" You exclaimed "Uncle Vaegon has a chain of Valyrian Steel, he could help us."

Viserys chuckled at your childlike wonder.

"The world will never see a civilisation as magnificent as Old Valyria, we barely know our history. We have to learn more."

In the next few weeks you barely ate or slept, consumed by various books on the history of Valyria. Uncle Vaegon per your request send you as many books from the citadel as he could. Many letters were exchanged between the two of you. You offering various theories and Vaegon negating them.

"Brother! Brother!" You shouted bursting to his chambers, starting him and Aemma.

"Seven hells y/n, it is barely dusk." Viserys mumbled leaning into his wife's side.

"Good morrow y/n" Aemma responded

"It could not wait." You exclaimed placing as many parchemnts and books you could hold in your arms.

"What could not wait?" Viserys groggily asked sitting in his bed.

"Valyria dear brother!"

Aemma stood from the bed clasping her swollen belly. She slowly waddled to you and glanced at the books.

"What is this?"

"This my queen is our ancestry." You responded helping her sit.

Drawing depicting the great city of Valyria, towers occupied by dragons, rivers of fire, colourful plants that grew everywhere, temples dedicated to the fourteen flames, great structures build from dragon glass.

"In the age of heroes there were hundred of thousands of dragon roaming the world. And yet only the people of Valyria tamed them. Some texts say that our ancestors were dragons, that we are their descendants and that is why we can form bonds and ride them."

"y/n this is..." Viserys mumbled glancing at the knowledge before him. "How did you find this?"

"Uncle Vaegon helped me, but I found knowledge about Valyria from books and scrolls that depicted the history of other Essosi cities."

"What would the faith think of this?" Aemma asked appaled.

"The faith of the seven was brought by the Andals, Valyria worshipped many deities but the main one were the fourteen flames. The faith does not influence us as were are not of Andal decent. We have magic in our blood, magic that no one else possesses. That is why the North does not preach the faith of the seven. They are the descendants of the first men and they follow the old gods of stream, forest and stone."

"y/n is right we are not Andals we merely rule them." Viserys agreed examining the various books, scrolls and parchments.

"This would make a lovely tapestry." Aemma said picking up a drawing of dragons dancing in the sky. "Perhaps the Red Keep would benefit from a little renovation."

"A marvellous idea, my love." Viserys said pressing a kiss to Aemma's hand. "This is extraordinary y/n. Father would have been very proud of you."

Gradually the Red Keep got rid of the emblem of the seven, replacing them with tapestries and statues depicting old Valyria, dragon lords and dragons. Many lord gathered at court to posses even a drop of knowledge of Old Valyria. The change didn't disturb the faith as the renovation have been done over a course of many years.

You smiled seeing the changes knowing that you were the one to influence them. Things however were not as happy as they could have been. Queen Aemma has lost four children in the span of three years, two pregnancies ended before her terms and two stillborn children. This time however the King was sure that the Queen will deliver a healthy son.

The tourney in honour of the heir inside the belly of Queen Aemma has begun. Many lords and ladies came to King's Landing to celebrate such a joyous ocassion. The dispute of the realm would vanish when the baby boy is born.

Not fond of tourneys y/n decided to visit Aemma. To her there was nothing the least bit enjoyable about men knocking each other off horses with long sticks. Such violence and bloodshed was redundant. 

The princess stopped at the tall doors of the Queen's chambers, two guards with solemn faces greeted the princess, announcing her presence.

"Your Grace." y/n walked in, curtseying before the Arryn. The princess raised her eyebrows once she saw of the condition Aemma was in. Pained expression, body and hair damp with sweat. 

"Oh, sweet y/n, how good of you to come." The Queen visibly brightened up seeing the princess. "Has the tourney begun?" 

"Not yet, but everyone is awaiting impatiently." She answered, sitting next to the Queen. 

"I must say, I fear of what will happen." Aemma sighed finding it easy to confide in her good sister. Despite being just ten and five she possessed an intellect rivalling her uncle Vaegon.

She enjoyed politics and history. Vaegon was not fond of children or anyone else for that matter but he made an exception for his niece. The two exchanged letters and the Archmaester lend her books from the citadel.

Princess y/n often whispered to her niece of politics, history, economics when it was needed. Being on the quieter side, y/n did not posses many friends. While being exceptionally smart she did not enjoy being at court, she did however enjoyed bards that sung the tales of her ancestors.

Beside Rhaenyra y/n was very fond of her brother Daemon as he was of her. He often gave her many gifts from his travels from valyrian steel jewerly to books and other trinkets. It was a common occurrence to see Vermithor and Caraxes together in the skies.

"As a mother you are prone to worry for your children, even the unborn ones.” y/n said, sensing the distressed state Aemma was in. Not wanting to deepen her fear of labour she tried to console the pregnant woman.

"It is the burden we posses as royal women, our duty is to produce heirs. We give the realm new princes and princesses." Aemma sighed sadly. "Soon enough you will be in my place." y/n smiled sadly, she knew that Aemma was right and yet she preferred to not think about the near future. 

Aemma thanked the princess and ushered her to join the celebrations her husband so desperately adored. y/n felt guilty for leaving the Queen alone, but nonetheless she obeyed leaving the chambers.

"Sweet y/n! You have finally graced us with your presence!" The king rejoiced, the princess bowed and took her seat on the left of Viserys.

"Unlike you brother I do not enjoy seeing men knocking each other off horses." y/n whispered and took her place on the left of the King. 

y/n engaged with the aristocracy, exchanging greeting and pleasantries with the lords and ladies in the royal balcony. Despite the happy aura of the day, she could not help the worry that bubbled in her gut. Turning to her brother she took him by the hand.

"Brother, I worry for Aemma." y/n said her eyes sad worry swimming in her red orbs. "She says she fears the labour, you have to ensure she will be safe." 

"Dear sister, Aemma will be fine. She will deliver a son and the realm will rejoice at their new heir." Viserys said confidently, he seemed to not worry for his wife's wellbeing as much as the sex of the baby that she might deliver.

y/n tugged at the skin's of her fingers in nervousness. The crowd grew larger and larger with each minute, the lords and ladies helped themselves to cake, wine and other delights. y/n refrained from eating, her stomach twisted in nervousness. 

From the corner of her eye she saw the hand Otto Hightower whisper something in Viserys's ear. His eyes visibly lit up, he made his way to the railing of the balcony.

"Queen Aemma has begun her labours!" Viserys shouted and the crowd erupted in applause. y/n glanced at Rhaenyra, a worried look painted on both of their faces. 

The announcer took everybody's attention, introducing today's tourney participants. Knights and sons of lord from all over the seven kingdoms joined the joust.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen!" The crowd erupted in applause; the dragon prince strode confidently on his white horse. The black dragon armor shone lightly in the sun. 

"May I ask for the favor of princess y/n?" Daemon asked, she rolled her eyes but smiled, nonetheless. She stood from her chair and retrieved her black and violet bouquet throwing it at the lance of her half-brother.

"Let my favour guide you in this challenge." y/n said loudly for the crowd to hear "I hope someone knocks you off your horse and humble you, my dear brother." y/n teased the prince and he gave her a sly look.

"Let us pray you do not hope to hard, my dear sister." Daemon said and trotted away on his horse. y/n turned around to see Otto whisper something once more to Viserys, his skin turned paler and his breath shallowed. 

Aemma

Quickly abandoning the joust, she quickly slipped away from the balcony and ran to Aemma's chambers. She could hear the Queen's screams from far away. Her heart ached to think of her mother figure in such agony. 

"Aemma!" y/n shouted and her blood run cold. The bed and the linen cloth were stained with scarlet blood. Aemma cried and wailed, her skin and hair sweaty.

"Your royal highness, I advise you to leave. This is no place for children." The maester Mellos said turning his attention away from the Queen.

"I care not for your advice Maester, I am here for the Queen." y/n said sternly and turned towards the contracting Aemma. "My sweet Queen I am here." She whispered

"y/n?" Aemma panted. "My sweet daughter..." 

The princesses eyes filled with tears, she held the hand of her sister enduring the pain just like Aemma. The doors burst open moments later, Viserys walked in. 

"Brother you must stop this!" y/n shouted

"Please get it out of me..." Aemma wailed and clung to the hand of her sister in law. She could smell the faint notes of milk of the poppy on the Queen. From the corner of her eye she could see her brother and the maester talking. Then two guards stepped towards y/n, she looked at her brother but saw fear in his eyes.

"Guards escort her royal highness to her chambers." Viserys whispered.

The two kings guards took her by the arms, she looked around confused. Her gaze landing on the knife in the maester's hand, the servant took Aemma by her legs and pulled her down. 

"NO!" y/n screamed "Viserys stop this!" She begun to trash in the guards hold. "It is not worth it!" 

"Viserys?" Aemma whispered "What is going on?" 

"They’re going to bring it out now... I love you, Aemma..." Viserys whispered and kissed his wife's sweaty brow.

"What..?" Aemma looked around scared "No... Viserys. I'm scared. Please." 

"Viserys!" y/n screamed her voice hoarse and raspy. The guards dragged her away from the scene. "Aemma!" 

Queen Aemma smiles at Viserys before fading away again. The maesters go to work in the king’s periphery. Aemma suddenly begins screaming in agony. Her body jerks as it is tugged, pulled and cut.

Viserys holds her hand to his cheek, sobbing. He tries to block out the noise, but Aemma’s pain spears through him.

Then, the Queen goes silent. Time passes in a vacuum. Until the faint wail of a newborn shatters the quiet. The king lifts his head to see the midwives wrapping the baby into swaddling.

...

The body of Aemma and little Baelon laid on the pyre wrapped in cloth. King Viserys choking on his own tears, unable to speak and think. Mourning the death of his wife and his son Baelon. 

Rhaenyra stands apart from him. Her eyes are red from crying, but there’s another emotion on her face...anger. Hand in hand with y/n, their expressions similar. The black dress on y/n’s body swayed delicately in the wind.  

"Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna, lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī rhēdos pendan?" Rhaneyra asked rhetorically tears escaping her reddened eyes. y/n squeezed her hand leaning onto the princess’s shoulder. (I wonder if, for those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness.)

"Kepa aōha avy sīr ojūdo tubiro toliot jorrāelza." Daemon spoke boring holes into the Kings head. (Your father needs you more now than he ever has.)

"Trēsy dōrī kesan." Rhaenyra whispered and strode towards her golden steed. (I will never be a son)

"Kesā sagon tolmiot sȳrkta than mirre dārys" y/n whispered to Rhaenyra as she left. Daemon wrapped his arm around his siter bringing her into his embrace. Knowing that y/n saw the brutal scenes of Aemma’s labour, he felt sorry for the little princess. Gently caressing her silver locks. The two dragon rider’s stood in solemn silence watching Rhaenyra. (You will be far better than any king.)

"Dracarys, Syrax!" Syrax opens her maw and expels a column of dragonfire, which sets alight both the biers. Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon are consumed by the flame. Twin columns of black smoke, bent by a strong morning wind, rise from the twin funeral pyres as mother and child burn. 

...

The two princesses dreseed in black mourning attire laid in Rhaenyra’s chambers. Their hands intertwined, tears falling onto the bed. 

“Aemma was a good woman.” y/n whispered caressing the silver haired girl’s cheek, she leaned into the warm touch.

“She was… I know she saw you as a daughter.” Rhaenyra whispered her voice hoarse from crying. “And I hope you know that I see you as my sister, the one I never had.” The red-eyed princess sobbed hugging the motherless child. 

“She loved you deeply.” y/n whispered.

...

She wanted to scream, cry and rage. She held her emotions back, seeing the state her brother was in. She sighed and walked towards his grace in the small council chamber. Putting her palm on Viserys's shoulder.

"y/n?" Viserys asked, his voice tired and sad.

"Yes dear brother." She answered. "I come to ask how you feel." Tears escaped the king's eyes, he banged his fists on the table. 

"The council is pressuring me to name an heir and re-marry. As if my son and wife didn't just die!" He cried angrily. y/n sat in silence helping her brother mourn the loss of his family, placing her palm on his back offering some comfort.

"What should I do?" He asked defeated, glancing at his sister. Silence befallen the two siblings.

"Put your trust in Rhaenyra. Name her heir like you always desired." y/n whispered.

Viserys nodded solemnly, standing from his chair he hugged the young princess. She sadly smiled caressing his back.

...

y/n found Daemon in his chambers, the man dressed in a linen shirt and leather pants sat comfortably before the fireplace, a goblet of red in his hand. She stormed to her brother and took the cup from his hand slamming it on the table next to her. The rogue prince raised an eyebrow, glancing at the red-eyed girl.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, dear sist-” Daemon spoke, his voice laced with sarcasm. Not being able to control her anger she slapped the prince on his cheek ending his words.

“Issi ao hen hen aōha ribazma!” She shouted, the prince took off guard by the unusual behavior displayed by his siter. He palmed the red spot growing on his cheek. “Skorkydoso could vestrā bona!” (Are you out of your mind!/ How could you say that!)

“Ivestragon skoros?” Daemon asked feigning cluelessness. (Say what?)

“Gaomagon daor tymagon doru-borto lēda nyke, Daemon!” She accused standing over her brother. Her hands squeezed in fists that she barely held back. The princess sighed and took a seat next to her half-brother. (Do not play dumb with me) 

“How could you say such a thing. You should be offering Rhaenyra or Viserys comfort! Not celebrating the death of your nephew!” y/n said, bitter tears ecaped her green orbs. Daemon finally looked ashamed; his gaze lowered onto the crackling fire. “Well… say something!” But the prince stayed silent.

“You should beg Viserys for forgiveness on your knees. He could have your head for this.” y/n whispered.

“He has no spine for that.” Daemon mused, breaking his streak of silence. 

“Perhaps he does not. His patience with you however runs thin...” y/n whispered glancing at the silver haired man. 

“He always wanted to get rid of me. Sending me away to that bronze bitch, the city watch anywhere by near him.” He spoke words laced with venom. 

“You have not given him any reason to put you by his side!” The princess said raising her delicate voice. “I know you want to protect him, but this is no way of showing it.”

“If it is his wish to exile me from court then go ahead. I hold no sympathy or love for these pompous nobles, you know that.” Daemon countered.

“I do not want you to leave especially in exhile.” y/n whispered. “You should be here by your family’s side, by my side.” 

Daemon stared at his sister the flames of the fire illuminating her Valyrian features. He stood up from his seat and stepped towards the silver haired girl, he sighed and kneeled before her. His violet eyes staring into her red ones. 

“I do not want to leave you, you know that.” Daemon whispered the princess stayed silent. The prince placed his head in the lap of his half-sister, he could feel as her fingers threaded through his straight silver locks. “You should come with me.” He could feel as y/n stopped her fingers.

“I will not leave Rhaenyra.” Her voice stern, moving her brother’s head she stood from her seat, eyes filled with anger and resentment stared at the mighty prince. Without a word she left, the prince on his knees stared at the retreating form of the princess.

...

Princess Rhaenyra dressed in the red and black of the House of the Dragon stands at the foot of the Iron Throne. The throne room is packed with lords, ladies and knights from every corner of the realm. The mood is one of celebration. King Viserys crowned and dressed in the ceremonial armor of his house and with the Targaryen ancestral sword Blackfyre sheathed at his hip, sits upon the Iron Throne. y/n stands next to the King, her own gown in the colours of Targaryen's. The lords of the realm gather one after the other. Lord Corlys Velaryon kneels first, glancing at the royal family.

"Corlys of House Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark." Grand maester Mellos announced. 

"I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the old gods and the new." 

y/n looked from above, the crowd's gaze was focused on Rhaenyra, now heir to the iron throne. She glanced at the princess and smiled deeply at her niece. Observing the realm bow at her feet and promise loyalty to her as heir.

The high septon lays a golden collar around Rhaenyra’s shoulders, King Viserys addresses his lords and subjects.

"I, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen the Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

The three and ten year old princess looks out across the lords of the realm that she will be responsible for holding together. A proud smile etched on her feauters, welcoming her new future.

y/n stared solemnly at Viserys, knowing the dispute that happened between him and Daemon urged him to name Rhaenyra heir. She knew that her niece will face have to face many hardships as the only female heir to the iron throne. Knowing that she decided to become her protector help her in any way she was able to cement her status as the rightful future Queen. With that the princess begun her works at court. Servants, knights, septas and many nobles have fallen into her grasp. She spinned the web of spies and informants throughout the seven kingdoms. 

Princess Rhaenyra was named princess of Dragonstone at only five and ten, as her father’s only child the nobility quickly accepted the heir. Many speculated that naming the princess heir was the doing of her aunt y/n Targaryen. It was known that the princess held much influence at court as her brother’s secret advisor. With her influence she worked for the good of the people, improving the crown’s reputation. The nobles as well as the smallfolk admired and loved the princess for her kidness and generosity. – From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

four

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Masterlist <-previous , next->

108 AC Red Keep, King's Landing

Silence fell between siblings, y/n stared wide eyed at Viserys as he told her of his plans to marry Rhaenyra's companion, Alicent Hightower. Building the structure of old Valyria was abandoned.

"No." The daughter of Baelon the brave said coldly.

"No?" Her brother asked confused. 

"No." She repeated. "You will not marry that girl."

"I have decid-" His grace countered but was interrupted by his younger sister.

"Choose someone else." y/n demanded resuming her previous activity. 

"Why not her?" He insisted staring at the red-eyed girl.

"She is a Hightower, a house that protects and upholds the faith of the seven. We are Targaryen's we follow the fourteen flames, her father is a second son so her dowry would be insufficient. She is your daughters confidante, this marriage will break Rhaenyra." y/n explained without looking at her brother. "Choose someone else."

"Who would you have me choose?" His Grace asked annoyed. 

"A bride of Valyrian descent, perhaps a Lyseni noble woman. Or a Celtigar, maybe a Baratheon." She proposed painting a tower. "If you marry Alicent and have a son, your hand will want to make him King not Rhaenyra."

"Otto would't undermine my decision to make Rhaenyra my heir." Viserys countered

"Viserys, be serious. That man will do anything to gain power, he knows Rhaenyra holds no love for him and when she becomes Queen he will have no place in her court." 

"Otto supported and proposed the decision to make Rhaenyra heir during a small council meeting." He countered

"But that is not because he wants Rhaenyra to be Queen, he wanted remove Daemon as a possible heir." y/n stated. "He is too proud to be a loyal servant to the crown."

"Otto has been a loyal and unwavering hand."

"Orys Baratheon was a loyal and unwavering hand, Daemon Velaryon was an amiable hand, Ryam Redwyne was loyal and so was father but Otto? No."

...

"I intend to marry, the Lady Alicent Hightower." Viserys spoke during the small council meeting. y/n sighed deeply swirling the bronze orb that belonged to her as the mistress of whisperers. Corlys was outraged, Rhaenyra betrayed, Otto victorious and Viserys was a fool. 

Soon the small council began to leave the chamber, Corlys and Rhaenyra were the first to leave. y/n sat in her seat staring at Otto, she cleared her throat and stood up smoothing her dress.

"Lord Hightower, I am sure you are happy with your little victory." y/n began staring at the tall, elderly man. "My brother is a fool to not notice your schemes but be certain I do. Your daughter may become Queen and have children with the King but be certain they will be raised far away from you and your plots. I will personally see to that." Otto chuckled.

"You may claim to do so as you wish princess, but soon you will wed and travel to Dorne with no influence in court." The Hightower recounted, the princess only smiled.

"You're a fool to believe that power resides with a person... I will leave you with that Lord Hand. Rest well." y/n said and left the small council chamber.

...

110 AC Red Keep, King's Landing

Viserys's greatest dream came true, Alicent delivered a healthy son just nine month after their wedding. But not all was well. The war in the stepstones has been raging for over two years, the sea snake along with the rogue prince have been losing against the triarchy. The court however did not concern themselves with the crab feeder, preferring to celebrate the second name day of Prince Aegon.    

“y/n?” Rhaenyra asked peering over her aunt’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” The red-eyed girl muttered, her eyes focused on the heavy book before her.

“Might I join you?” She questioned not waiting for permission, leaning on the great weirwood tree. The delicate strums of Samwell’s baliset brought the two princesses’ comfort in this tiring day. 

“Your grace.” The bard stood up quickly bowing before the Hightower Queen.

“Did I order you to stop?” Rhaenyra asked annoyed, her head on the princess’s shoulder. 

“Samwell go.” Alicent ordered, her voice confident so different from her usual shy demeanor. 

“You are to stay by the order of your princess.” y/n hid a smirk turning over another page. She heard the retreating footsteps of the player and sighed deeply, Rhaenyra and Alicent two former friends exchanged sad words. Rhaenyra's anger was justified, her father and dearest friend betrayed her. 

“Let us leave Rhaenyra, the carriages will not wait for our tardiness.” y/n mused standing up taking Rhaenyra by her hand and brushing past Alicent.

...

y/n sighed sipping the red wine, glancing at the ladies of the court. Alicent pregnant with her second child sat next to you, engaged in some boring conversation with lady Redwyne. She glanced seeing her brother drown himself in cups of wine.

“Excuse me, my Queen.” She said leaving the suffocating company she was ordered to stay with. The black and bronze leather attire y/n wore moved gracefully with her movements. Walking to Viserys she glanced at the servant next to him.

“Bring a chair.” She ordered, the heels of her shoes thudded against the carpeted stairs. The servant placed a heavy woodened chair on the left of his grace, she nodded thankfully dismissing the boy. “Viserys.” The king sluggishly glanced his siblings way.

“What is it sister?” He asked, his words slurred due to over indulgence in wine. 

“I have come to see how you are.” she answered, her brother laughed, pouring himself another goblet.

“My daughter avoids me like a plague, the court bothers me with possible matches for her. I cannot celebrate my son’s second name day in peace!” He raised his voice glancing at the lord and ladies before him. y/n took his gloved hand circling her thumb on his palm. 

“Perhaps you should let Rhaenyra choose her own match?” She proposed, Viserys nodded and smiled gently.

“Perhaps you are right. You know her best after all... y/n you are seven and ten, maybe if you married first Rhaenyra would follow." Viserys said.

"Grandsire has wanted me to marry Qoren since I was small." She mumbled thinking of the dark haired boy she has met years ago.

After retiring to Dorne, Qoren's mother princess Mara died of an illness. At just four and ten he became the prince of Dorne. His duties kept him in Sunspear, despite the many years apart you often wrote to each other and the feeling you have once held for him didn't disappear.

"Do you want to marry him?" Viserys questioned and you nodded.

"I do. When we were children we promised each other that we would marry."

"In nine years much can change." Viserys answered.

"To break this engagement would jeopardize our very fragile relationship with the south." His grace hummed and gulped the wine.

"It is settled then, I shall send word to Dorne that it is high time you married."

"Let me break the news to Rhaenyra first, if she hears that you are forcing me away from her side she will hate you even more."

Viserys chuckled sadly and nodded.

"How is it that my daughter despises the thought of marriage but you accept and yearn for it?" Your brother asked.

"I have always known I would have to marry... and grandsire wished to see me happy. I met Qoren and I have fallen for him but it seems the gods did not want us to be together for long."

"I want you to be content, happy even. If marrying the Prince will make you so I see no reason to refrain." Her eyes widened slightly and a warm smile appeared on her lips.

"I would like that." She said and pressed a kiss to Viserys's cheek.

t/n sighed leaning into her chair, she observed curiously as the court whispered and laughed among themselves. Seeing many of her spiders mingle with the rest of the nobles.

“Where is Aegon?" y/n questioned wanting to see her nephew, Viserys shrugged in response. She ordered one of the maids to lead the way to the young prince.

The little boy only two, played alone with his wooden dragons, a gift for his nameday. y/n nodded at the maids stationed to take care of him to leave. 

“Aegon?” The little boy glanced up, his violet eyes widening and a wide smile appearing on his chubby face.

“y/n!” He exclaimed running towards her, chuckling she picked him up into her arms. Despite the indifference Rhaenyra held for her little brother y/n took kindly to Aegon. After all he was her nephew.

“Do you want to go on a horse ride with me?” She questioned petting Aegon’s silver locks. He nodded eagerly bouncing in her arms.

“Where is father?” Aegon questioned, he played with the reigns of your horse sitting in front of her. 

“Your father is very busy as a King he has many responsibilities.” She answered, Viserys was not a good father nonetheless she didn't want to poison his own son against him. Aegon stayed quiet for most of the ride leaning into his aunt's body. “Perhaps I shall take you with me to Dorne.” She proposed and the Prince nodded happily.

"y/n with me!" The princeling demanded, a chuckle left his aunt's lips.

"Yes Aegon, you'll be with me. We will fly together, eat fruit and play, yes?" She questioned.

"Yes!" He exclaimed happily hugging his aunt.

...

Letters were exchanged between his Grace King Viserys and Prince Qoren discussing the arrangement, and soon the realm awaited the wedding of Princess y/n Targaryen and Prince Qoren Martell.

Rhaenyra begrudgingly accepted the news of her aunt's impending marriage, but the realm's delight still refused to marry. Rhaenyra agreed to search for a husband though it took Viserys's threat of removing her status as heir to the Iron Throne to convince her. Rhaenyra along with her aunt and half brother toured the seven kingdoms. The last royal procession was held by Jaehaerys and his sister wife Alysanne. In that way Rhaenyra reminded the realm of the rightful heir as well as scour for possible consorts as her father ordered.

y/n held Aegon in her lap as Rhaenyra interviewed possible matches. She noted down in her journal all the men who have asked for an audience with the princess, giggling to herself as Rhaenyra shooed them away with clever insults.

“The princess has a dragon you dumb cunt!” One of the contenders mocked the Blackwood boy, the two princesses snorted as the crows laughed. The mood has turned sour once the two nobles decided to bring out their swords, deciding it was time to go Rhaenyra her aunt and half-brother left in boredom. 

Rhaenyra approached her aunt after talking with her sworn shield. 

“Do you think father will be mad that I ended the tour two moons early?” The heir jested leaning on the railing of the ship taking them back to King’s landing. y/n chuckled leaning on the princess’s shoulder. 

“I think he will be delighted to see you.” She mused, her brows furrow hearing the flapping of wings above the ship. The crew looked up searching for the culprit. Soon the ship has been swayed by Caraxes’s wings, Daemon atop the blood wyrm. y/n grasped Rhaenyra’s hand aiming to balance herself from the swaying of the boat.

...

y/n watched curiously as her half-brother strode proudly through the great hall. A wooden crown atop his short silver hair, black sister sheathed atop his hip. Viserys dressed in royal attire sat at the iron throne, the crown once worn by King Jaehaerys atop his own head. 

Daemon stopped at the stairs leading to the throne, glancing at the king’s guard pointing their own weapons at Daemon’s chest. A smirk painted on his lips; he threw the sword of his fallen enemy at Viserys’s feet. 

“Add it to the throne, your grace.” He mused a smile appearing on your own lips. Two brothers happily reunited after almost three years. The court applauded the reconciliation of Baelon's sons. y/n quietly retreated to her chambers preparing for the feast Viserys was going to throw in honor of their brother returning. 

“What do you think I should wear?” Rhaenyra turned around; her body covered with a thin linen shirt. y/n glanced at the two dresses that were held by the maids.

“The golden one.” She mused sinking her teeth in the sweet fig, already dressed in a pale violet dress embedded with gold dragons. “You'll look beautiful in it.”

“All right then, can you help me braid my hair?” y/n nodded and stood from the comfortable armchair, skillfully braided her hair. She hummed an old Valyrian nursery rhyme as she worked on Rhaenyra’s silver hair. 

The princess hummed leaning into her touch as she kissed the crown of her head. Together the two walked to the godswood where the fest was being held. y/n was excited to see Daemon after all of those years. 

“Mandia” Daemon whispered, y/n smiled as she saw her half-brother. After reminiscing with his brother and exchanging pleasantries with the guests attending, he walked towards the table covered in various dishes. (Sister)

“Lēkia” y/n answered taking a sip from the golden goblet in her hands. “Aōha ōghar… Nyke ȳdra daor hae ziry.” She mused staring at his short silver hair, not the only thing that changed about your brother. (Brother/ Your hair…I don’t like it.)

“Iksan sīr mundagon naejot rȳbagon bona” Daemon laughed taking a seat next to his sister. (I am so sad to hear that)

"Eman jeldan naejot ūndegon ao syt sīr bōsa" Baelon's youngest son muttered after a moment of silence (I have longed to see you for so long)

"Lo konir sagon drēje pār ao would daor vīlībagon isse iā vīlībāzma" y/n mused playing with the golden rings on her fingers. Daemon snorted and nodded, the siblings watched as the court mingled with each other. The almost picturesque moment was interrupted by Alicent's son running toward his aunt and uncle. Aegon laughed as y/n smiled and picked the boy up. Daemon watched with disdain in his eyes as his sister smiled at the little tower. (If that is true then you would not fight in a war.)

"Gaomagon daor jurnegon rȳ zirȳ hae bona" y/n said sternly placing Aegon in her lap. (Do not look at him like that)

"Issi se trēsi hen bona kasta līve" He spoke venom dripping from his lips. (He is the son of that green whore)

y/n gaze hardened at the obvious hatred Daemon held for the innocent child, it is not Aegon's fault that their mother is Alicent.

"Issi riñar, pōnta gōntan daor iderēbagon syt zirȳla naejot sagon pōja muña" she hissed "Kesrio syt nyke jurnegon tolī zirȳ Alicent se zirȳla kepa emagon daor ōregon toliot zirȳ" (He is a child, he did not choose for her to be his mother/ Because I look after them Alicent and her father have no hold over them.)

Daemon hummed in approval accepting his sister's fondness over the little tower. 

"You will make a great mother." Daemon said as he stared fondly at his sister.

"I think I will become a mother sooner or later..." She mused leaning against her brothers shoulder.

"How so?" He asked

"I am too marry, Daemon. In a month or two Qoren will arrive and we will wed." y/n told her brother. She could feel Daemon's muscles tense, a scowl appeared on his features. "Do not fret brother, you may visit me to your hearts content." She chuckled.

...

Princess y/n along with the crowned heir Princess Rhaenyra and her half brother Prince Aegon toured the seven kingdoms. The last royal progress was held almost fifty years ago during the reign of King Jaehaerys I. The crown agreed to the excursion thanks to the princesses y/n input she convinced the small council of the benefits that would aid the realm. In the same year prince Daemon Targaryen returned to court after three years of war in the stepstones. Despite the aversion the court held towards the rogue prince, princess y/n enjoyed her half-brothers presence. Many saw them take strolls throughout Rhaenys's gardens and fly on dragon back together.- From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Six

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Masterlist <-previous , next->

minors mdni

110 AC King's Landing

You stood before the mirror as maids adjusted your dress, a long violet gown with dark red threads of dragons, a low cut cleavage and long sleeves that widened at your elbows. The same dress your mother wore when she married your father, seven and ten years ago.

Rhaenyra watched from your bed as the maids frantically moved around you fixing your dress, hair and putting on jewelry. Rhaenyra had to admit that you looked beautiful, the violet material of the gown matched your complexion and the embroidery went well with your red eyes. She never understood how you received different eyes than the Valyrian purple, both of your parents had violet eyes and yet you defied the custom.

Once you deemed that the maids nagging was enough you dismissed them with a flick of your hand. They quickly left your chamber leaving you and the heir.

"You look beautiful..." Rhaenyra said tracing the hems of your gown.

"It would be rather odd if I didn't." You jested, the princess laughed lifting the rather sad mood.

"I will miss you." She said leaning into you.

"As will I. But remember you have Laena, Daemon and a plethora of other ladies who would jump into fire for you." You tried to remind your niece.

"And yet none of them will ever compare to you." She answered, tears were beginning to form at your waterline, you blinked them back to avoid reddening your eyes.

Ser Steffon escorted you to the carriage that would take the royal family to the Great Sept. The familiar sculptures and tapestries of Old Valyria brought a sense of comfort in this rather nervous day.

The Crownlander's armor rattled with every move.

"Ser Steffon?" You called the knight.

"Princess." His gruff voice answered.

"I would like you to become my sworn shield and travel with me to Dorne." You announced, he widened his grey eyes. "A familiar face always makes a person feel more at home, despite being leagues away."

"I would be honoured, princess." He kneeled on one knee in front of you, you chuckled and placed your palm against his shoulder.

"Rise, Ser Steffon."

...

The great sept was packed with onlookers, the small folk collecting outside the gates of the temple. Your brother despite has decided to give you away. The heavy cloak of your house rested upon your shoulders. Viserys took you by the arm and led you to the altar.

"Who gives this woman away?" The septon asks

"I Viserys of House Targaryen King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm give away Princess y/n of House Targaryen to Prince Qoren of House Martell." Your brother recited his verse, his hands took of your cloak as he retreated into the crowd.

"And who takes this woman to be his wife." The septon continued

"I Qoren Martell Prince of Dorne, the lord of Sunspear take this woman, Princess y/n of House Targaryen to be my wife." The Dornishman answered, from your multiple talks you shared over the few weeks you learnt that he was not overly religious. You preferred to marry in the tradition of old Valyria, but Qoren was not of Valyrian descend. According to the council any other ceremony than in the faith of the seven would be an insult to the high septon and the faith.

"In the eyes of the seven you are now bound in holy matrimony. As the father provides justice, the mother mercy, the warrior strength, the smith mends all things broken, the maiden courage, the crone wisdom and the stranger who offers only death, you shall provide for each other with all that the seven pointed star provides." The septon prayed, once he finished he glanced at Qoren.

"With this cloak I bring you under my protection. I will keep you safe, cared for and respected I pledge this in the eyes of the old gods and the new." He draped the orange cloak with a red sun pierced by a golden spear on your shoulders.

"With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife." Qoren recited the verse as you did yours, once the words have left your throat, the prince leaned in and kissed your lips.

"You are now man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The septon ended the ceremony and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers. You smiled at your husband and he did the same.

You raised your joined hands in the air and the small folk erupted in cheers, and applause.

"Long live Princess y/n!"

"May your marriage be blessed!"

"The mother will bless you with many children, princess!"

Different shouts echoed through the great structure. You smiled at the small folk and waved and glanced at your husband to find him staring at you.

"You look radiant, wife." He mused caressing your palm with his thumb.

"You look very handsome yourself, husband."

The feast was grand, the guests danced, jested and ate their fill. You watched from your seat at the high table as Rhaenyra danced with Aegon, the young boy barely keeping up. You laughed at the sight happy that the two were getting along.

"Sister might I have this dance?" Daemon approached the high table, you sighed and nodded taking his hand.

"You look ethereal." Your brother said guiding you to the dance floor, where bards and musicians played.

"Thank you." You answered spinning.

"Will you be happy?" The rogue prince asked.

"Since when does it matter? But I will, If not I shall feed him to Vermithor." You jested.

"A true Targaryen."

"I will miss you..."

"As I you. You are my favourite sister after all."

"I'm your only sister."

"Exactly... According to the traditions of our house I would be the one to marry you."

"If that were true I wouldn't marry you, I would marry Viserys."

Daemon scoffed and picked you up to spin your body.

"I would sooner let Caraxes eat me that see you married to our brother."

The thing you dreaded most was the bedding ceremony, not because you were afraid of loosing your maidenhead but because you refused to have strange men undress you while making rude comments as was the Andal tradition.

After a talk with the council, you announced that the bedding ceremony won't take place. Some members, like Tyland Lannister and the Maester had voiced their disapproval but Daemon quickly silenced them.

Your maids carefully took off the heavy gown and detangled your hair, leaving you in your thin linen undergarments. Your husband has been instructed to visit you in your chambers to consummate the marriage. You knew what the act consists off, your ladies explained as did Ser Steffon. Aemma was just ten and one when she married Viserys you were thankful that you were six years older than the Queen.

Steffon's voice interrupted your thoughts, they were rather grim, something a bride should not concern herself with on her wedding day. Qoren walked in, a simple orange robe covered his body. You smiled a bit nervously at the man.

"It will be all right, I will take great care of your needs." His words slightly settled the nervousness that rattled your insides. You nodded thankfully, Qoren approached your form. You sat at the stool of your vanity, the Martell kneeled before you and took your hands into his.

"If you do not want to we can wait." He proposed but you shook your head.

"The court will talk if I have not been bedded by my husband." You responded looking at the man with slight fondness. He nodded and raised his head so he can meet your lips in a kiss.

"Have you done this before?" You asked as Qoren laid you on your bed.

"I have, my cousins took me to a brothel when I was four and ten." Your husband answered truthfully.

"Have you?"

"Of course not!" You protested, Qoren chuckled.

"I did not mean it as an insult, in Dorne we do not care for the brides maidenhead."

"It seems as if Dorne is a paradise for women." Qoren chuckled and pressed his lips against yours.

Qoren took off the long orange robe leaving him only in a thin linen shirt. You could see the outline of his manhood through the material. Your husband gently slid the undergarments from your body leaving you bare. The chilly air caused goosebumps to erupt on your skin, your nipples pebbled.

"You are beautiful." Your husband whispered as he placed kissed from your neck to your nether regions.

"Qoren-" You whimpered as he pressed a kiss on your mound.

"Shh, I will take care of you." He continued his ministrations, pleasure coiled in your abdomen. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you tangled your hand in Qoren's curly dark locks bringing his mouth closer to the place you needed him most.

"Moan louder I wish to hear how good I make you feel." His tongue pressed against your nub. A moan left your lips at the action.

"So good, please." You whispered as Qoren worked faster, the wetness between your legs grew with each passing second. The only thing on your husbands mind was to bring you ecstasy.

"Oh!" You moaned as pleasure rippled through your body, muscles spasming as Qoren licked your pussy clean.

He chuckled and propped himself up on his elbows, the peach fuzz on his chin glowed with your essence. You smiled hazily at him, blush covering your cheeks as you pressed a kiss against his lips.

"I want you to-" You begun but stopped feeling Qoren's cock press against your folds, coating himself in your wetness. "Put your cock inside."

"As you wish princess." The Martell price smiled, pumping his manhood a few times before gently pressing the tip against your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the unfamiliar intrusion. It was different than your fingers, warmer and bigger. Once his tip breeched your entrance a shaky moan left both of you.

"You're so warm." Your husband moaned and inched himself inside. You felt pleasure as his cock caressed your walls.

"Qoren harder." You moaned clawing at his back, the man nodded and pressed himself fully inside you. His pelvis touching yours, as his balls rested against your bottom.

Your body moved with his thrusts, his lips sucking kisses against your skin. Sex felt good, you were sure to do it more often.

"Close, y/n" He mumbled caressing your thigh. His other hand pressed against your nub amplifying your pleasure and brining you closer and closer. You felt him twitch, the kiss he pressed against your breast tipped you over the edge. Your walls spasming around his length triggering his own release. Ropes of hot seed filled your womb.

Ragged breath filled the chamber as Qoren pressed himself deep inside you.

"That felt good." You said caressing your husbands head that rested comfortably between your neck and shoulder.

"It did princess." The Martell smiled, wanting to roll over but you pressed your heel in his back preventing him from doing so.

"It feels good to have you inside me."

Tired from the activities the two of you fell asleep in each others embrace.

...

After a fortnight your husband has departed for sunspear, you stayed behind preferring to fly on dragon back to your new home than endure the endless bumpy ride of a carriage.

You dressed your red and black riding leather, Rhaenyra put your hair into three long braids. You leaned into her touch.

"I hate to see you go." Rhaenyra said kissing the top of your head. You sadly smiled.

"I will come back soon. Time will fly by quickly." You answered, holding Aegon in your arms. Sunfyre was strapped in a cage on Vermithors side.

You blinked away the tears that threatened to fall as you hugged Rhaenyra.

...

Princess y/n left King's Landing in 110 AC to join her husband Qoren Martell in Dorne. It is said that the red keep has lost it's warmth with the princesses departure. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Seven

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Synopsis: Rhaenyra's wedding takes place, y/n and her husband return to the capital.

Masterlist <-previous , next->

113 AC Sunspear

"Mother can I see Vermithor?" Derran asked as you held him in your arms.

"Perhaps on the morrow, I feel quite tired now." You answered kissing the top of his curly black hair.

"Because of baby?" He asked delicately patting your swollen belly.

"Yes my sweet boy... Where did you loose Aegon?" You asked, knowing that whenever Darren was Aegon was around.

"Eggie in lessons. Didn't interrupt." Your son mumbled playing with your silver hair.

"You did good, my love."

"What a sight to see." Qoren said entering your shared chambers. "Hello my love." He said and kneeled in front of you, pressing a kiss to your lips and to your son's forehead.

"Good morrow, Qoren." You answered.

"A letter arrived from the capitol." Your husband said and passed you the parchment, he took Darren into his arms and pressed kisses on his chubby cheeks. You read the letter carefully.

"Shall we prepare for travel?" You asked.

Rhaenyra's and Laenor's wedding has arrived.

"I would assume so."

"I love you." You murmured and pressed a kiss to your husbands lips.

"As I you. How is our little one doing?" He answered, caressing your cheek.

"Good, I would assume. I am tired without a reason." You answered rubbing your pregnant belly.

"She will be strong then, since she's taking yours."

"I would like a girl, it seems you do as well." You mused noticing that your husband oft referred to the babe as she.

"Could we name her after my grandmother? I think the name Arianne would suit her."

"And if it's a boy?" You questioned tangling your fingers in his curly, thick black hair.

"What do you think we should name our son?"

"I like Nymor, after Nymeria the warrior Queen."

"A fine name, princess." He looked fondly at your growing belly. Caressing the swell through your pale orange dress.

You were excited to go back to King's Landing, you missed your family terribly. After all it has been three years, six moons after your wedding you conceived and then bore a son, Derran. He was born strong, with violet eyes and black hair. Two years later you fell pregnant again.

You along with your son and Aegon would depart on dragon back. Nothing compared to the feeling of flying with your steed. Vermithor was not overly fond of the hot temperature of Dorne so he was excited to come back to the Crowlands.

Sunfyre was able to lift Aegon, and per his request he flew on his own, next to your mount. Vermithor took off, his wings threw shade at the city below. Derran was strapped to the saddle with leather belts while Nymor was tied to your chest.

The flight took a few hours, the bronze fury flew on his own remembering the path. Sunfyre flew circles the elder dragon. Vermithor screeched in dismay at the energetic young dragon. The bronze fury landed on the hills near the dragon pit, the dragon walked towards the gates to the caves he once called home. 

...

The streets were clean and decorated with Targaryen sigils, the wedding of the crown heir was a huge ordeal and rightfully so. You smiled as you saw the familiar red bricks of the place you grew up in.

Rhaenyra along with the rest of your family awaited your arrival in the courtyard. You stepped out of the carriage, the stench of the city invaded your nostrils.

"y/n!" Rhaenyra smiled and ran up to you, she engulfed you in a bone crushing hug. You smiled and hugged her back, you heard the little footsteps of Haelaena and Aemond. They hugged your skirts smiling and laughing as you caressed their silver locks.

"Sister it has been far too long." Viserys smiled, you approached your brother and smiled sadly at his condition. You placed a kiss on his cheek and bowed your head at Alicent. Ever since you started taking an interest in her children she could not stand you. Even though you have done nothing wrong she knew how much her children loved you.

"There is someone I would like you to meet, brother." You mused and walked into the carriage picking Derran into your arms. "Brother this is my son Derran."

"Adorable babe." Viserys mused picking up Derran into his arms. "He looks like our father. The same brows, nose and eyes."

"I will take your word for it, then." You answered, servants approached taking your belongings to the chambers that once belonged to you.

"Mother!" Derran whined in his uncles grasp.

"This is your uncle Viserys, Derran." You answered, Rhaenyra fawned over her cousin and took him into her arms, he giggled in delight.

Soon enough your child was taken away from you, and you were left with Daemon.

"Brother" You said, the man smiled and kissed your cheek pressing his forehead against yours.

"Sister" He answered, his violet eyes stopped at your pregnant belly. His large hand rested upon the top he smiled gently as he felt the babe kick. "What will you name it?"

"Nymor if it's a boy and Arianne if it's a girl." You answered in common tongue.

"Dornish names." He responded taking you by your arm, the two of you walked to the gardens.

"They will be princelings of house Martell, it is only fitting." You mused and leaned on Daemon's shoulder.

"Do you love him?" Your brother suddenly asked. You took a deep breath and glanced at his violet eyes.

"I do." You whispered, you could see the evident anger in his orbs. The happy atmosphere soon soured, not wishing to spend another moment like that, you departed for your chambers.

...

You awoke feeling the babe press itself onto your spine, you sighed leaning towards your sleeping husband. A small smile graced your lips, you pressed a kiss to his dark curly hair.

"Is it the babe?" Qoren mumbled still half asleep, you smiled caressing his naked back.

"Don't worry it is nothing." You mused and left your shared bed to the chamber pot. "Your child however presses itself against my spine and bladder."

Qoren laughed.

"Our child are they not?"

"Of course but only one of us has to carry it for nine months and then push it out of my body."

"That is true and I am eternally thankful for your sacrifice." Your husband mused kneeling in front of you and pressed his ear against your belly. "Hello little dragon." He said and pressed a kiss.

"Could we stay here longer? As much as I and Aegon enjoy Sunspear I do miss my home" You asked your husband.

"As you wish dear wife." He answered "With having a flying beast there come some perks." You laughed at his jest a comfortable silence falling between the two of you. Your body leaned into his as you laid comfortably on the bed.

"I love you." Qoren muttered into your silver hair, you looked up at him kissing the bridge of his nose.

"As I you."

...

Your maids tied the red and silver dress as the others combed through your long silver locks.

"How do you feel your highness?" One of your maids a young girl of only four and ten asked.

"It is bearable, Annora. Though I cannot wait once it's out of me." You mussed caressing the swell of your belly.

"It is good the pregnancy is at its end." Annora smiled and tied the knots of your sleeves. "I pray to the gods everyday for a safe delivery."

"Thank you my dear." You thanked the red haired girl. "Come now I intend to visit my niece."

...

You watched as the maids helped Rhaenyra put on her dress, when they moved towards her silver locks you interrupted.

"Please leave us." The maids bowed and left the two princesses alone. "I always did your hair, I will do so as long as we're together." You caressed Rhaenyra's cheek and begun to brush her hair. 

"Thank you, y/n" The princess of Dragonstone mused caressing your palm. "I missed you so much."

You answered back and braided her hair in comfortable silence, embedding rubies and obsidian into the hairstyle. A Valyrian song leaving your lips.

Ser Steffon and Ser Criston escorted the two of you to the great hall where the celebration for Rhaenyra's wedding took place. Ser Harrold announced the two princesses.  

You smiled as you noticed your husband already seated at the high table you took your place next to him as Rhaenyra sat next to her father. The guests begun arriving, ser Harrold announcing their presences. You chuckled quietly as lord Lannister embarassed himself in front of Rhaenyra and Viserys

"Lord Corlys of house Velaryon, lord of the tides and master of Driftmark and his lady wife Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and their son and heir Ser Laenor Velaryon the future king consort!" Ser Harrold announced the powerful house. All of them dressed in gold and teal, a true Valyrian house. You smiled as you saw them enter, the crowd applauded their arrival. They bowed before the high table. Rhaenyra abandoned her seat and met with Laenor half way.

"My bethroded." She smiled, Laenor kissed the palm of her hand and the court once again applauded. The Velaryon's took their place on Viserys's left side of the table. But the peaceful moment has been interrupted by Daemon making his appearance soon after the Velaryon's.

He strode proudly through the great hall, the crowd whispered at this sight. He smirked as he approached the high table, an extra chair placed on the tail end of the table.

"Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only it's beginning we honour the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon. Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons with House Targaryen and House-" Viserys stopped his speech mid word, he intensely gazed at the entrance to the great hall. The crowds eyes soon followed.

Queen Alicent dressed in Hightower green has arrived. The courtiers stood up to honour her grace. You exchanged a look with your husband, the green beacon of Hightower you thought.

"Congratulations stepdaughter. What blessing this is for you." She spoke the new way that she addressed Rhaenyra did not go unnoticed.

"Please be seated." Viserys asked once Alicent took her seat. "With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros." Viserys finished his speech the court applauded and banged their hands on the table cheering for his grace. "And after tonights small affair... Seven days of tournament and feasting. And at the end of it all, a royal wedding between my daughter, my heir, your future Queen and Ser Laenor Velaryon the heir to Driftmark." You clapped and smiled as Viserys confirmed Rhaenyra as heir.

The first dance was started by Rhaenyra and Laenor the two of them moved gracefully to the sound of music. An old Valyrian dance, to display the two houses origins. You watched with your husbands the two smiled and talked. Soon the rest of the courtiers decided to dance as is the custom in such celebrations. Alicent moved from the table to where house Hightower was sitting.

"Shall we dance, my dear?" Qoren proposed and you agreed taking his hand. From the corner of your eye you saw ser Gerald talk with Daemon. The tragic incident that befallen Rhea Royce was no accident. Laena skipped towards the dance floor and Daemon followed after her. The two seemed engaged in conversation, as your feet ached you walked to the table.

"Cousin I am so glad to see you in King's Landing." You said to Rhaenys.

"As am I. I believe congratulations are in order." She said and her husband Lord Corlys agreed.

"Thank you, it is rather tedious to be with child." You muttered and Rhaenys chuckled.

"It is, isn't it? I remember when I was pregnant with Laenor. I could not sleep for the death of me." Rhaenys told her memories.

Your pleasant conversation has been interrupted by various screams. You stood from your seat searching for Rhaenyra. She was carried by Ser Harwin breakbones. The crowd stilled and Ser Criston rose from the floor, his hands and armour bloody.

...

"The love of the seven is holy and eternal. The source of life and love. We stand here tonight in thanks and praise to join two souls as one." The septon spoke "Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows."

"I am yours and you are mine." Laenor spoke through tears "Whatever may come."

"I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come." Rhaenyra held back her tears. You watched with sadness in your own your husband caressing your back in comfort.

"Here in the presence of gods and men, I proclaim Laenor of House Velaryon, Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, to be man and wife. One flesh, on heart, one soul now and forever." The high septon said the vows. Viserys fell to the ground, the crown of King Jaehaerys rolling on the stone floor.

...

"AHH!" You screeched crushing the bedpost with your hand as another contraction paralysed your body. Sweat drenched your cotton tunic, you could feel the anger and pain of your dragon. His roars shook the Red Keep.

"Princess-" One of the midwives approached your curled form.

"Don't touch me!" You seethed, baring your teeth. The servants watched as you suffered on your own.

"My wife! Where is my wife!?" Qoren burst into the room to see you scream and cry with pain. He stared in disbelief at the midwives who did nothing. "Why are you not helping the princess?!"

"S-She refuses our help." One of the maids whispered.

"Leave then!" He screamed and rushed to your side kneeling next to you. "My love, I'm here."

"Qoren..?" You asked absentmindedly "I can't-" You breathed, your face contorting in pain.

"Yes you can! You already did this once, our boy. He cannot be without you! I cannot be without you." Qoren cried as he helped you stand.

"Get it- Get it out of me." You pleaded leaning on your husband.

"No child should grow up without parents, remember?" He pleaded "Please, my love."

You stared up at his worried face, placing your palm against his cheek. You squatted taking your husbands hand the other leaned on the bed.

"Urghh!" You groaned and pushed, pushed and groaned. Qoren kneeled between you, his hands under your tunic helping you.

"The head..!" He whispered hopefully.

You placed your hand in between your legs to feel the babe make its way into the world. With a final push, it slid out of your body into your husbands arms. A loud cry pierced the silence that befallen the chamber.

"A boy" Your husband breathed in relief handing you the newborn, tears streamed down your cheeks. This time from happiness.

"Nymor, my son. Oh my sweet boy." You cried cradling the crying infant. One of the midwives walked in, helping you with the newborn. Swaddling him in cloth and cutting the cord.

"He's beautiful." Qoren mused pressing a kiss to your sweaty brow. The midwife placed him in your arms and you latched him to your breast. Wisps of blonde hair and eyes a light brown bordering on red.

...

The Grimm beginning of the union between Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Laenor became a subject of superstition. A bad omen for the future Queen and her royal Consort. But a fortnight after Princess y/n delivered a healthy son, lifting the sour mood.- From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Eight

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Synopsis: Rhaenyra and Laenor visit Sunspear. Jace is born!

Masterlist <-previous , next->

114 AC Sunspear, Dorne

The breeze caressed your features, your silver hair swayed gently. You flipped the page of the heavy book that rested atop your lap. Your moment of peace was interrupted by the doors swinging open. Your son and Aegon ran laughing and shouting words you could not understand.

"Mother!" Your firstborn Derran shouted and ran into your embrace.

"What is it my sweet?" You ask caressing his curly brown hair that possessed silver streaks.

"Is it true that cousin 'Nyra will be visiting?" He asked climbing into your lap.

"Where did you hear this?" You asked placing the book on the ground curiously

"Aegon told me!" He said happily, you raised an eyebrow curiously at your nephew. The boy just smiled and shrugged.

"It is true sweetling, we will host Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Laenor in Sunspear. A royal procession, the first one to ever happen in Dorne."

"Will my brother and sister come too?" Aegon asked sitting on the sofa.

"Im afraid they are too young for such a journey." You answered taking a brush in your hand and approached Aegon.

"I always like when you do my hair." Aegon mumbled as you begun to detangle the wild array of silver hair.

"Then you are no different than your sister." You mused braiding his locks.

"Helaena?"

"Rhaenyra, I always did her hair, no maid was allowed to do it when I was present." Aegon chuckled as did your son.

"Can you do my hair mother?" He asked climbing next to Aegon.

"Your hair is too short sweetling but one day if you wish." Derran pouted and leaned against the back of the couch sulking, his violet eyes welling with tears.

"Don't cry." Aegon muttered patting Derran's shoulder. You smiled at their brotherly bond as you finished Aegon's braids.

"y/n?" The doors to your chambers have been opened by your husband. He walked in frantically searching for you.

"Husband." You answered, he sighed in relief and approached you.

"Father!" Derran screamed with happened and threw himself in Qoren's arms. The prince smiled and picked up his son, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"What bothers you?" You ask pressing a kiss to Aegon's hair and letting him and your son scurry off to their nursery.

"Dragons have been spotted over Godsgrace." He muttered placing his large warm hand on your growing belly.

"Good, I'll send word to prepare their chambers." You mumbled placing your palm on his.

"Where is Nymor?" He asked

"in his nursery with Oberyn." You answered pressing your lips against Qoren.

Many things changed since Rhaenyra's wedding, Daemon married Laena and left with her for the free cities. You knew that Corlys and Rhaenys were displeased with this union but Laena was unwavering and they relented.

You have not seen Rhaenyra since her wedding, countless letters were exchanged but it wasn't the same. But now she was visiting and could stay as long as she wanted.

Your maids helped you dress in a loose fitting satin dress. The hot climate of Dorne allowed you to wear thin silks and linens as well as open shoes.

"Mother, ready!" Derran burst in to your chambers dressed in a orange tunic with black threads depicting scorpions. You smiled seeing your son and ushered him inside.

"You're excited." You said placing the prince in your lap. He bounced happily, the feelings too much for his little body.

The maids braided your hair quickly and hand in hand with your son you walked through the castle heading for the courtyard. Vassals of the banner men bowed their head at you and their future prince.

The Martells awaited your presence in the courtyard Aegon was already there talking with Darren's cousin Ivor. You smiled at your brother in law, Maron and his wife Qyria.

"y/n" Qoren whispered and pressed a kiss on your temple. He smiled as his son made grabby hands to be picked up.

"You look very well, Lady Qyria." You said clasping your hands atop your stomach.

"Thank you, this pregnancy is far easier than the first one." The Essosi woman answered caressing her swollen belly.

"Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and her royal consort Lord Laenor Velaryon!" One of the guards announced as a carriage rolled onto the courtyard.

Soon you saw the familiar silver hair and violet eyes you missed so dearly. The two Valyrians stepped out of the carriage a flock of ladies left after Rhaenyra staring in amazement at the Old Palace.

"Princess Rhaenyra, Lord Laenor." Your husband said his greeting. "Welcome to Sunspear."

"Thank you, Prince Qoren." Rhaenyra answered. You walked down the steps Aegon following two steps behind.

"Rhaenyra" You said and engulfed the princess in a bone crushing hug.

"How I've missed you." She whispered in your hair, tears welled in your eyes.

"We have so much to talk about." You answered letting go of Rhaenyra, Aegon happy to see his family hugged his half-sister.

"Hello Aegon." She said a bit stiffly.

"Laenor." You smiled at the Velaryon "How was the travel?"

"Berable, but I'm afraid Seasmoke is not a big fan of the climate here."

You chuckled and the conversation continued as you guided them to their chambers. Finally alone you sat on the bed in Rhaenyra's chambers.

"How is married life treating you?" You asked once you were alone.

"My father has been mentioning grandchildren." Rhaenyra mused taking a fruit from the plate.

"And how is Laenor in that department?" You asked

"His tastes are different but he is kind, but we laid together twice."

"Not a great chance of conceiving a child then." You mused caressing her hair. "Does he only like men?"

"I think so... we agreed to take lovers if needed but he has taken only men."

"A shame... But if it a child you want I can help." You said standing up.

"In what can you help? You are not a man." Rhaenyra stated a bit confused.

"No, but there is a practise I have read of." You begun and Rhaenyra nodded for you to continue. "The next time Laenor lays with someone instruct him to pour his seed in a dish, take a goose quill and fill it with his... seed." Rhaenyra listened intently "Put the quill inside you and let the it take root."

"...Will it work?" She asked unsure

"In the books I have read the success rate is rather large, the important part is to do it quickly as the seed is hot."

"I will do so then, but if it doesn't work what then?"

"Then you choose a man that looks similar to Laenor and lay with him. The realm excepts an heir it doesn't matter from whom. Just make sure Laenor will father them."

...

Unfortunately after three moons Rhaenyra, Laenor and her court had to depart for the rest of the tour. Derran and Aegon cried as they saw Rhaenyra leave.

Moons passed and news of the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's first child, a son Jacaerys reached your ears. Half the realm was invited to celebrate for two weeks of jousts and feasts.

Your whole household has been invited north to King's Landing, your husband has decided to stay behind.

You put on your black riding leather, braiding your long locks in three braids. Your youngest Nymor sat in Aegon's lap making grabby hands at you.

"Soon, little scorpion." You mumbled, and stood behind Aegon braiding his hair in a style similar to yours. He was already dressed in yellow riding leather with pink seams. An homage to his dragon.

"Thank you y/n." The boy mumbled and handed you Nymor. Taking a large cotton cloth you swaddled Nymor to your chest making sure he doesn't fall off while on dragon back. Derran was strong enough to hold on to the reigns himself.

Sunfyre was large enough to saddle and Aegon flew on his own next to your dragon.

"Let's go." You smiled as you saw Aegon taking your eldest by his hand.

Vermithor bellowed with happiness as he saw you and your children, he stretched his wings preparing for flight. You help Derran to the saddle and then climbed yourself. Aegon smiled at his steed as he roared with happiness. Easily climbing onto Sunfyre the golden.

"Soves!" Your voice bubbled with happiness as you felt the anticipation of flying once again. Vermithor roared and flapped his bronze wings leaping into the air.

...

King's Landing

The flight was a little longer than Derran and Nymor would like but they didn't fuss much. Aegon's dragon was faster than the old Bronze Fury, he flew circles around him occasionally screeching happily. You noticed the similarities between Sunfyre and Syrax, both golden and spoiled. Their heads were of similar shape, different than your dragon's bull like skull.

Seeing the familiar towers of the red keep you lowered the reigns making your dragon leap down throwing a shadow over the town below with his huge scaly body. Vermithor landed on the courtyard of the dragon pit. 

The dragon keepers glanced at you and your children atop the bronze fury. Your steed straightened his large wing so that Darion could slide down easily. You smiled at the gleeful giggle of your firstborn. 

"Princess y/n, Prince Aegon!" Joqar the dragon elder exclaimed happily. You smiled at the dark skinned man.

"Joqar it is great to see you. These are my sons Darren and Nymor." You answered introducing your children, he smiled and ruffled their hair. 

"They look like true dragons." He smiled at the silver hair of your youngest and the violet eyes of your eldest. You smiled and thanked the elder man.

"There is a carriage waiting for you, your highness." He announced.

"Thank you Joqar, I hope you take great take of Vermithor. Do not chain him, he has grown used to flying free in Dorne." You smiled and helped your eldest climb into the carriage.

...

"Sister!" Rhaenyra exclaimed happily as she engulfed you in a hug. "Such handsome boys they are." She smiled at your two children.

"Thank you, they are quite tired from their journey." You mused caressing the silver locks of Nymor. Rhaenyra eyes her younger brother as he nodded his head at her. 

"Come we shall put them in the nursery and you shall meet my son Jacaerys." She smiled picking Darren up into her arms.

"I cannot wait, then. Come Aegon, meet your nephew."" You smiled walking down the halls of your home, the tapestries and statues depicting Valyria stood proudly in the corridors.

You smiled as you saw Laenor carrying his newborn son.

"Laenor." You approached and pulled Nymor out of the confines on your chest and letting him crawl. A small bundle of blankets laid in the Velaryons arms. "May I?"

"Laenor, y/n wishes to be introduced to Jacaerys." Rhaenyra smiled sitting in a chair.

The prince consort nodded and passed the babe into your arms. He was quite heavy, bigger than your sons when they were born. Jace cooed happily, his eyes a deep Valyrian purple almost indigo. His hair however was almost black and curly, simmilair to those of his grandmother Rhaenys.

"He's beautiful." You mused, caressing the wisps of hair. "Is he yours?" You asked Laenor and the man nearly choked, Aegon glanced curiously at the Velaryon not understanding your words.

"y/n knows everything, husband. She is the one to tell of the practise." Rhaenyra mused "And yes y/n Jace is Laenor's."

"I think Rhaenys will be happy to have a grandson with her hair." You jested. "Will you have more children?"

"If Rhaenyra wishes." Laenor answered, mindful of his wife's feelings.

"And you y/n? Will Nymor be your last." You tensed a bit at your friends question.

"My husband and I wish for more but lately he's been growing ill. The healers advise against strenous activities."

"That's terrible, what seems to bother him?" Laenor asked as you handed him his son.

"Uncle Qoren faints often." Aegon mumbled holding Darren's hand.

"Yes... he's constantly tired and barely eats anything. His body aches whenever he moves." You answered picking up Nymor as he tugged on your trousers. "I shall pay a visit to the rest of the family. Aegon would you like to stay or go with me?"

"With you." The boy answered.

...

"y/n!" Helaena and Aemond shouted as you entered their shared chambers. You kneeled and let them run into your arms.

"Good morrow, my sweets." You answered kissing the tops of their heads, your sons stayed behind you eyeing their cousins curiously. "Haelaena, Aemond meet your cousins Derran and Nymor." You slightly pushed them forward.

"Hello!" Derran said and approached Haelaena who was a year older than him, and Aemond who was a year younger. "I'm Derran."

Aegon hid behind his younger cousin as he wearily looked at his siblings.

"Hi." He shyly said to Helaena, she smiled up at her brother.

"Hello."

You smiled as they talked with their limited vocabulary, and soon abandoned words and begun playing with wooden horses, dragons and soldiers. Aemond and Nymor seemed to get along best as they were closest in age.

...

Viserys threw a feast at the news of your and your family's arrival, Nymor sat in your lap as Darren sat next to his cousins. You smiled seeing your family, despite the tension between the Queen and Rhaenyra. Your nephews and niece grew beautifully, Viserys on the other hand grew sicker, a different type of illness than your husband. His once thick golden hair thinning, changes on his skin appeared. Truly a horrid sight. 

"Let ur raise our cups to my beloved sister and her children!" Viserys toasted raising his goblet full of Arbor wine.

"Hear hear." Laenor smiled sipping the alcohol.

"Princess, we are very glad you could make such a tedious journey." Alicent said in your direction. "Especially so soon after giving birth."

"I simply couldn't wait to meet my nephew." You answered feeding Nymor some potato puree.

"If you wish there are maids, your highness." The Queen proposed noticing as you took care of your son.

"I prefer to tend to my children on my own, rather than leaving them with wet-nurses and maids."

"An embodiment of the mother is she not, my love?" Viserys asked his wife as he eyed your youngest.

"It seems that our house grows, brother." You answered "You should be very proud of Aegon, his teachers say he is very quick to learn. And his bond with Sunfyre is growing strong, they made it to King's Landing without problem"

"Really Aegon? I didn't knew you flied that th- your dragon." Alicent said a bit appalled.

"I have mother." Aegon replied a bit gloomy. "Aunt y/n helped me bond with Sunfyre and helped me learn to fly."

"It seems that Silverwing has taken to Dorne as well." You announced.

"Silverwing, really?" Rhaenyra asked curiously.

"She has flown with us to Sunspear when we were returning from the wedding. It seems she prefers to be with Vermithor, they coil together quite often."

"Perhaps Silverwing will lay a clutch of eggs then." Your brother smiled, meat on his fork.

Viserys smiled at the picturesque moment that his family shared. His sisters presence made everything better, his conflicted nephews wife and daughter watched with happiness Nymor and Darren. The only thing missing was Daemon. Laena was with child and soon new Targaryen princelings would be welcome into this world. But they would be brought up in an unfamiliar land away from their home.

...

Sunspear

You smiled as you saw your husband standing at the feet of the makeshift Dragon pit, a cane in his hand. Servants and knights standing behind him.

"Father!" Darren screamed as he jumped from Vermithor's wing. "Father!"

"My boy!" Qoren laughed, Darren ran towards him and crashed into his legs. You slid off Vermithor with Nymor wrapped to your chest. Aegon jumped off Sunfyre and ran after Darren. You slowly walked towards your husband, he smiled as he saw you and your youngest. 

"Husband." You whispered embracing him.

"Wife." He answered "My little boy." He kissed the forehead of your son. "I hope the flight was well" 

"It was." You answered as you walked next to your husband and son, the guards following behind.

"Aegon how was your flight?" Qoren conversed with Aegon.

"Sunfyre is very fast! He likes to fly high in the clouds." He answered excited to talk about his steed.

"Princess." Your guard Trystane Dayne bowed his head and smiled as your son ran towards the tall man.

Your husbands condition seemed to get better, before he couldn't walk on his own on the count of his weak body. 

"How are you feeling?" You asked caressing Qoren's arm.

"In pain... My brother has called for a healer from Qohor. It is said that the man cured death, but I'm not as hopeful." Qoren laughed sadly. "Some day soon our son will inherit my seat and he will become the greatest prince Dorne has ever seen."

"Someday but not anytime soon, my love. Our son is too young to become the prince." 

"That is why you will become his regent." He explained looking at your son assaulting ser Trystane with questions. "I know you are much more than capable, and don't try to fight me on this. Maester Yenner has already wrote down my will."

"Qoren..." You whispered.

"You're beautiful." He whispered caressing your cheek with his bony hand. You leaned into his touch, your eyes glossing.

...

The light fell onto your eyes awaking you from slumber, you smiled at the warm weather that was typical here. You pressed your head onto your husbands chest, he was...cold.

"Qoren?" You asked terrified, he wheezed in response misty eyes staring into your red ones.

"I love you." He whispered heavily breathing.

"No! No!" You cried "Don't leave me alone in this world." You clutched the linen shirt he wore. "I can't- our children Qoren, please."

"You're as beautiful as the day I met you." His bony palm placed a stray strand of silver hair behind your ear, and caressed your tear soaked cheeks.

"No... please." You wailed into his chest.

"Since I laid my eyes upon you, I have loved you. I will do so even after my death."

"I love you too..." Your lips pressed against his in a final act of desperation. But love stories weren't real, a kiss couldn't save anyone.

Your husband is dead

His golden brown eyes lifelessly started at the ceiling, the body you once hugged every night was now cold and unfamiliar.

"I will take care of our children, my love." You whispered and pressed a kiss against his forehead. In a haze you left your shared chambers and went to your sons nursery, waking them up much earlier than usual.

"Mum?" Darren asked absentmindedly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You clutched onto him like a lifeline, caressing his face and dark hair he inherited from his father.

Nymor isn't old enough to even remember his father, in that way he was the same as you. Except for the fact that you were here, his mother, and you will continue to live for them.

"I love you, know that there won't be a day when I won't worry for you. You are my son, my first son."

...

All of the houses sworn to house Martell came to Sunspear to attend Prince Qoren's funeral. A white veil covered your face as you held your youngest child in your arms, Darren's clutched your skirts tears staining his chubby cheeks. Aegon held Darren's hand as a few stray tears left his violet orbs. All of you dressed in white silks, your husbands body has been wrapped in the same white cloth. Salty tears rolled down your cheeks as you watched your husbands corpse be covered in sand.

The death of her first husband changed Princess y/n, she became more protective of her children and nephew. Vermithor and Sunfyre were often spotted above the deserts. It seems that spending time with her mount alleviated her pain, many believe that the bond between dragon and rider was the reason Targaryen's blood was magic. Some texts say that, the magic in their veins keeps them immune to sickness Andals and the First Men die from. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Nine

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Synopsis: Driftmark happens, Aegon takes a stance and the divide only grows bigger.

Masterlist <-previous , next->

minors mdni

118 AC Pentos

"Aunt y/n!" Baela and Rhaena ran towards you, wide smiles on their faces. You grinned seeing the twin girls and their parents.

"It is so good to see you sweet girls. How much you've grown! You'll be taller than your father soon." You jested ruffling the locks of their silver hair.

Laena and Daemon approached you arm in arm, their benefactor some Pentoshi lord greeted you as well offering you sanctuary in his home. 

"Laena my sweet cousin." You whispered kissing the cheek of the curly haired woman. "Brother."

"Sister." Daemon replied pressing a kiss to your temple and hugging you against his chest. 

Laughs and jokes were shared during the dinner held by the prince of the city. You smiled as you joined your family after such a long time apart.

...

You and Aegon mounted your dragons and flew to Driftmark. Tears escaped your eyes, the wind blew them away. Your bonded dragon screeched sensing your pain.

"Dracarys Vermithor!" You shouted letting your emotions get the best of you. Your steed expelled a breath of gold fire flying right through it. The heat of his flames brought you necessary comfort. 

"Cousin." You whispered hugging Rhaenys, her black veil covered her tear stained cheeks. She has lost her only daughter after years of being apart. Her grandchildren Rhaena and Baela obediently stood behind her, you kneeled next to the two girls. 

"I'm so sorry." You whispered hugging the two of them, your fingers tangled in their silver hair. Rhaena sniffled as she hugged your body.

Laena's casket has been placed on the edge of a cliff overlooking the salty sea. The Velaryon soldiers tied the knots to ensure it's safe passing. 

"We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon to the eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King where He will guard her for all the days to come." Vaemond recited the funeral speech. You watched Laena's casket with tears in your eyes. Baela hugged your side, your arm protectively wrapped around the young girl.

"As she sets to sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughter on the shore." Your brows furrowed as Vaemond stared at Daemon who seemingly did not care that his wife has just passed. "Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood." His gaze turned to Rhaenyra and her sons. "Our runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin." Daemon chuckled.

He chuckled

Anger coursed through your veins. The people present stared with disdain at him.

"My gentle niece. May the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, as your nets be as full as your heart. From the sea we came. To the sea we shall return." Laenor's eyes were empty as he started as his sister's casket was lowered onto the depths of the sea. Dragons circled drift mark as a royal funeral was held. 

You sat next to Helaena as she played with a spider, her wavy silver locks blew freely in the wind.

"Hands turns loom, spool of green, spool of black; dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread." She said those words as if in a trance, you smiled in sympathy. No one noticed her gift, the gift that saved house Targaryen from the doom. 

"You have a gift sweet girl." You whispered caressing her hair, her brother watched as you comforted their "lunatic" sister.

"Aemond." You said greeting your nephew. "You have grown." 

"Hello aunt." Aemond answered ever the proper boy.

"Are you excited for your engagement?" You asked curiously, remembering the news that Aemond and Helaena will marry once they turn sixteen.

"I would rather have a dragon." He responded gruffly "Everyone else has one but I don't."

"Rhaena also doesn't have a dragon... Did you know that Gaemon the glorious didn't have a dragon until the age of two and twenty? So by my count you still have some time." You tried to console your nephew.

"You claimed a dragon at eight! One of the greatest beasts!" He raised his voice.

"Some things take time, Aemond. Dragons are not like horses, you cannot just jump onto it's back and ride. The bond we share with dragons is deep and magical, it's as if our souls are connected." You explained, trying to lit the teenagers sour mood.

"Does that mean I will be dragon less?" Aemond asked voice breaking slightly.

"You are a Targaryen, Aemond. It is your birthright to bond with a dragon, and you will do that. There are no dragons to be claimed but there are eggs."

"I don't want an egg! I want a dragon! A full grown dragon!." He shouted and stomped away.

Everything was tense and awkward, the little boy you one played with was gone. Viserys was under the influence of his wife and her father, he was restored as hand after Lords Lyonel tragic passing that you knew was no accident. 

"Sister" Daemon whispered approaching you as you stared at the endless salty sea stretching before you.

"Brother" You answered not looking at him, the stunt he pulled before still itched you. "Have you no shame?" You asked not bearing to look at the man.

"I have protected our niece's honour." He answered simply.

"You are impossible, your wife has just died." You accused.

"She has died along time ago, the moment I have taken her from Westeros." He whispered "I should have listened to her, returned to Drimftmark before it was too late." He said bitterly. You sighed deeply.

"It is painful, isn't it?." You whispered placing your palm on his his back. 

"I could never be in more pain then she was." Daemon muttered, taking your palm in his large hand. 

"The God's are cruel, even ours." Bitter truth left your lips "You should tend to your daughters." You said leaving Daemon alone. 

...

Your chambers were prepared by the maids of house Velaryon. Dried tears stained your cheeks. 

"Aunt y/n?" A small voice whispered from the other side of your chambers. 

"Yes?" You answered the door, Baela and Rhaena stood together. "What is it?" 

"We... Could we stay with you?" Baela the braver of the twins asked, you nodded silently and let them into your chambers. The girls climbed into your bed as you laid between them.

"Could you tell us stories of our mother?" Rhaena asked leaning on your lap. 

"Since the beginning your mother was a fiery young girl. She had inherited the beauty of your grandmother without the dark hair and the bold, adventurous spirit from your grandfather. She was brave and kind. I saw as she became one with her giant beast as if it were nothing, a true dragon rider. " You smiled at the memory of you two flying together over King's Landing. "One time, Lord Jason Lannister tried to 'impress' her by listing the amount of gold he could offer her as his wife. It was rather stupid since the Velaryon's were richer than the Lannisters, she said and I remember it clear as day. Are you willing to make the same bribe to Vhagar to reside on the giant rock you call home, Lord Jason? The man paled with fear and didn't bother your mother ever again."

The girls chuckled.

"Do you think that Vhagar will accept me?" Rhaena asked.

"Vhagar is old and tired, when Balerion was her age he laid in his cavern all day, eating what was given him. I do not think that Vhagar will be able to match your delicate nature." You mumbled a bit un-sure.

"Vhagar was my mother's dragon, I am excepted to claim her." Rhaena muttered leaning on your shoulder, Baela nodded.

"Who excepts that?" You questioned curious.

"Father." Baela answered for her sister, you chuckled at the irony.

"If your father followed this rule he would be the one to claim Vhagar or Meleys. They were his parent's dragons and yet he claimed Caraxes our uncles mount, your grandfathers."

"Really?" Baela and Rhaena exclaimed at the same time.

"I think that Silverwing would be better suited for you, Rhaena. If you wish I can take you back to Dorne with me so you can claim her."

The Velaryon girl visibly brightened up, she nodded furiously.

"Please, aunt y/n!" She exclaimed.

"If your father or grandmother agrees I see no reason not to."

"But what of Vhagar?" Baela murmured.

"She will spend the rest of her days, without bothersome humans." You jested and the twins lightly chuckled. "Now my little dragons go back to your chambers." 

The two girls scurried to their own chambers, you saw that their mood has been improved slightly. 

...

You were restless and could not sleep, you deciding that visiting Vermithor was the best course of action. Castle Driftmark was a dull thing, even more than Dragonstone.

The beach however was empty, only the sound of waves delicately crashing against the cliffs was heard. You wondered if Vermithor has ever been to Driftmark before. The sound of footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced in the direction of the noise, the familiar straight silver hair made you sigh.

"Aemond!" You called startling the boy, he slowly turned around, you beconed him over and he obliged. "You were sneaking off to claim Vhagar." You stated and he paled slightly. "No need to lie to me."

"Yes, aunt." He admitted and lowered his head "But I only did it because I have no other choice!"

"No choice? Do you know how dangerous it is to approach Vhagar?" You sighed deeply, not wishing to startle your nephew.

"I-..." He started but the words died down in his throat "Without a dragon I'm worthless."

"Aemond, you are not worthless." You kneeled infant of the boy, taking his face into your hands. "Who makes you think that?" You demanded.

"Father... He never pays attention to me, I doubt he even knows my name." Tears threatened to spill from his violet orbs. "And he only paid attention to Helaena after she claimed Dreamfyre. What kind of a Targaryen am I without a dragon?!"

"Your father should be the last person the speak of claiming dragons." You stated and Aemond looked up at you.

"He rode Balerion."

"Once." You added "He rode Balerion once, and then he died. He never formed a bond with him, he couldn't have. Therefore he has no right to talk."

A small smile made it's way onto Aemond's thin lips.

"I think that there is a dragon waiting for you." You mumbled caressing his straight silver hair.

"What dragon?"

"Perhaps you should go with Rhaenyra to dragonstone, there is Grey Ghost and Sheepstealer. But I think Grey Ghost is most like you."

"Most like me?"

"Timid, hidden in the shadows, observing from afar. You know I was a lot like you when I was your age... Nobody cared for me after Grandfather died, I had no parents and Rhaenyra was the only thing on Viserys's mind. When my brother was in King's Landing which was not often he made an effort to be there for me, but it is not the same as a parents love is suppose." You got carried away slightly, burdening a child with your problems. "I'm sorry Aemond, I shouldn't have said that."

"I- It is all right... thank you, aunt."

"Talk to Rhaenyra of returning with her to Dragonstone."

"Could you... Could you come with me? I know you are well aquainted with dragons, and perhaps if you wished, you could help me."

You smiled fondly at his unsure rambling.

"I would be delighted, Aemond. We can even go tomorrow." You offered and he nodded his head. "Now go back to your chambers, it is late and you need all the strength you can muster."

The thin boy nodded and ran off to the castle, you felt as if a great heaviness was lifted from your chest allowing you to breathe.

...

You missed your children. You thought while eating breakfast alone. Aegon was probably in his temporary chambers sleeping or reminiscing with his siblings.

"y/n" You heard your name, you raised your gaze from the mutton pie, and fruit that were placed on your plate.

"Daemon." You mumbled continuing eating, he took a seat in front of you and ordered a servant to bring him breakfast. They placed a steaming bowl of porridge with fruit, different hams and cheeses and a slice of the same pie you ate.

"You do not seem sad... Did you love her, or married her to spite our brother?" You asked glancing at the hardened features of your brother.

"...I did love her." He whispered avoiding your gaze and digging into the food on his plate. "Is this what you felt when you lost Qoren?" His question surprised you, not once has he addressed your husband by name.

"I was miserable when he died." You admitted "But I had to stay strong, for my children for the kingdom." Daemon hummed drinking the honey mead. "...I was happy with him, he loved me and our children with ever fibre of his being. How can a man seem so strong only to wither slowly at the hands of a disease?" You questioned rhetorically.

Tears began to form in your eyes as you remembered the years you spent with Qoren. The wet tears dropped on your dress, but you quickly wiped them and took a swing of the watered down wine.

"I'm sorry your happiness was taken from you." Your brother said tenderly, which was unlikely for him. "If I could give you the happiness you long for I would." Daemon muttered, placing his palm over yours.

"My children are the source of my happiness now." You declared "As should your daughters be, they are mourning the death of their mother, Daemon. You should be there for them, the other day they came crying to me, asking me to tell stories of their mother. Then Rhaena said that you told her to claim Vhagar, she is but a child!" You raised your voice "I offered to take her with me to Dorne so she could claim Silverwing."

"Silverwing, yes..." He questioned, passively accepting your anger.

"Yes, Daemon. With your permission of course." You added, the anger simmering in your insides.

"You took great care of them."

"Someone has to." You snipped, narrowing eyes at Daemon "I don't think that the good father characteristic passed onto you or Viserys."

Daemon chuckled and nodded.

"Im afraid not, no. But you dear sister... if I worshiped the seven I would say you are the embodiment of the mother." His backhanded flattery made the anger slowly die out. "Baela and Rhaena spoke of your talk, I already agreed. You helped them greatly... They need a mother."

"Daemon..." You sighed knowing where he was heading. "Laena's body is barely cold and you talk of marrying again?!"

"Not immediately!" He countered "I just... you lost your husband, I lost my wife and-"

"And what? You'll take me to Dragonstone and wed me in the tradition of our house?"

"If you'll agree." He stated.

You held affection for Daemon, despite the horrid things he did throughout his life. He was still the only person who saw you, for you. Actively trying throughout your upbringing, whenever he was present.

"I promise you will be happy. We will fly on dragon back like we used to so many years ago..." Your brother pleaded.

"If Viserys gives his blessings I will become your wife.." You answered, Daemon stared at your features. Silent agreement and happiness etched on his sharp features.

...

"Aemond?" You questioned entering his chambers, he sat by the window consumed by a book that rested atop his lap. He tore his gaze away from the pages and glanced in your direction. "Are you ready?"

He nodded and the two of you walked to where Vermithor was resting, you fixed the black leather gloves on your fingers. The bronze fury bellowed as he saw you approaching.

"This is my nephew, Aemond. We will help him claim a dragon." You said nuzzling your face in his warm scales. You helped Aemond climb onto the saddle, and then strapped him in. You patted Vermithor's scales and without a command he leaped into the air, his claws dipping into the salty water before climbing into the sky, high above the clouds.

"How does it feel?" You asked Aemond, that sat in front of you.

"It feels... like I belong." He answered.

Vermithor landed near the hills of dragonmont, startling the dragon keepers there. You slid off of his bronze wing and helped your nephew do the same.

"Can you smell any dragons, old boy?" You questioned placing your palm on his horns. He chirped and let out a screech, turning towards the misty mountains. You left your dragon and headed in the direction the bronze fury pointed in.

"It is very on brand for him to hide in the mist." You said to Aemond as he walked next to you. "Hiding from the small folk... or Cannibal."

He stayed silent as if deep in thought. You observed his reactions.

"Can you feel him Aemond?"

"Her." He stated and moved ahead, slowly disappearing into the mist. You stayed behind letting Aemond do what he thought was right, and by the looks of it he might claim a dragon today.

A chirp and then a screech, orange light spread among the mist. And yet you didn't feel worried. You could hear Aemond's faint voice, High Valyrian rolling off his tongue. At the speed of lightning, Grey Ghost flew right out of the mist, leaving a trail behind him. Aemond's green cloak flowing in the wind, as he soared in the sky.

...

Moons passed after Laena's death, Daemon stayed with his daughters at Driftmark. You on the other hand returned to Dorne with Aegon much earlier, you missed your children and longed to see them.

Daemon stood before the doors to his daughters room. Despite being dressed in leather armor, Dark Sister strapped at his side he felt nervous. Nervous to face his nine year old daughters. He knocked on the door and entered.

"Father." Baela noticed and bowed her head slightly, Rhaena ran and hug his legs.

"Father can I please go to aunt y/n?" She asked, her violet eyes brimming with tears.

"Soon Rhaena, I promise." He answered caressing her long silver hair. "I- I" He stuttered "What do you think of your aunt?"

"She is nice." Rhaena muttered.

"Aunt y/n gives the greatest gifts. The dresses she makes are beautiful." Baela added.

"She was great friends with your mother." The Targaryen Prince said. "Would you be opposed if you saw her more often?"

"No, I don't think so." Baela the braver of the twins answered for her sister.

"I know you are young, and there are thing you need to know. Despite being a princess your aunt has lost protection when her husband died. I offered that I would protect her from now on." He tried to explain.

"Protect how?" Rhaena meekly asked.

"...By marrying her." Baela answered for him, understanding the situation better.

"Yes." He confirmed. "You are young, you need a mother figure. And you would get to meet your cousins better."

"Whatever you wish father." The twins answered.

"I know this is difficult and I do not except you to understand, but just know I love you two deeply. And wish what is best for you."

They nodded and leaned into his touch when he wrapped his arms around them.

...

"Prince Daemon, Your Grace." Ser Harrold announced opening the doors to the king's chambers. Viserys laid in his bed covered in blankets.

"Brother." Daemon said bowing his head and approaching his grace.

"Daemon..." Viserys wheezed staring at his brother. "I am so glad too see you, it has been too long."

"We have seen each other a few moons back, is your memory so bad you do not remember?." Daemon jested. "Viserys I have a favour to ask of you."

"A favour?" Viserys asked curiously "Whatever do you need?"

"I wish to marry y/n." He admitted, a pregnant silence fell upon the room. Only the crackling of the fire was heard.

"And what does y/n say of this union?" The elder brother asked, thinking of the girl he though of as a daughter.

"She has agreed on the condition that you agree and bless our marriage." Daemon responded.

"She is too good for you, Daemon." Viserys wheezed staring at his brother. "But if it is her wish to marry you I shall give you my blessing."

"Thank you, your grace."

...

A raven arrived from King's Landing, the grand maester of Sunspear handed you the letter. You saw the royal seal of your brother and broke it curiously.

My dear sister,

Word has reached my ears that you wish to marry Daemon. I know how distraught you were when your first husband passed away, if you deem Daemon worthy of becoming your second husband I give you my blessing. I know you make no mistakes in your judgment so I trust your decision and hope that your marriage with our brother will be as happy as your first one.

In return for your endless support and upholding our traditions. I shall give Daemon and you land so your future children will have an inheritance. The Stepstones have been won by Daemon, and are now a part of the seven Kingdoms. But without a strong presence to command the island they have fallen into disarray. If you wish it the Stepstones will become your land you may do as you wish with them. Your children will inherit the seat after you pass and as a royal decree, they will be titled as princes and princesses of the realm. The sacrifices you have made helped the realm greatly, you have brought Dorne into the seven kingdoms, secured wards from the lords of Westeros and aided the royal coffers. I will be forever in debt to you my dear sister.

You read the letter, tears flowed from your green irises staining the parchment. It felt as if he was saying goodbye to you.

"Mother?" Nymor asked seeing the tears that flowed freely.

"Yes my sweet?" You asked

"Why are you sad?" He asked and you smiled, picking him up and placing him in your lap. He was now five and very bright.

"I am happy my dear child." Your sons silver hair shined in the sun.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Sometimes when we're happy we cry." You explained "Your uncle and I will marry."

"Uncle Daemon?" He asked curiously and you nodded.

"He will become my husband." You said caressing your sons silver locks.

"Like father was?"

"Just like father was..."

"Will I have more siblings? I do not want to be the youngest Darren, Ivor and Tyla treat me like a baby!" Nymor complained and you chuckled.

"You will always be my baby." You said kissing his chubby cheek, he giggled.

...

"Maron!" You stopped your brother in law as he strolled with his wife through the gardens your late husband built for you.

"y/n, what is it that you need?" He asked walking up to you with his wife the Lady Qyria.

"I will need your help governing Dorne in my son's steed." You announced.

"I am honoured y/n but what has happened?" He asked confused.

"Daemon and I will marry, His Grace the King gave us Stepstones to govern. I will not be able to be in two places at once, that is why I need your help." You explained

"Will you be leaving Dorne?" Qyria asked.

"I do not want to, but my attention will be divided between Dorne and the Stepstones. For the time being Daemon will stay on Driftmark." You answered strolling with the couple through the water gardens.

"Let us know if you ever need help taming the Stepstones, it is a disputed land. Keeping peace will be difficult." Maron offered, you thanked your brother in law.

"Bloodstone will become to heart of the islands. I believe it will be quite expensive to raise castles there but the payoff will be large. The islands are very strategically placed, any voyages will have to pass through the Stepstones." It was true, that is why your brother and the Velaryons fought in the Stepstones for so long. But now instead of war, the islands will be conquered through alliances.

"What of Darren and Nymor?" You brother in law asked.

"I will take them whenever it is possible, but Sunspear is their home. They will be raised here, as is befitting for Dornish Princes."

"As you wish princess." The slender man answered.

...

Dragonstone

Half of the court of KIng's Landing sailed for Dragonstone to witness the wedding of Prince Daemon and Princess y/n. You were happy to see your family during a happier occasion. Aegon was less thrilled to see his father and mother.

"Aegon." You approached your nephew as he sulked in his chambers.

"Oh, aunt." The boy muttered raising his thin eyebrows at you.

"Sunfyre has been snippy all week." You answered sitting next to Aegon on his bed. He shrugged his shoulders. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

"Oh sweet boy, you're not as good at hiding emotions as you think you are. What is bothering you?" The prince sighed and sit up on the bed leaning against your shoulder.

"Nothing escapes you does it?" He whispered, you caressed his long wavy hair.

"I have known you since you were born, Aegon. I have raised you for over eight years. I know when something is bothering you."

"Why is it so easy for you to act like my mother when Alicent can't be bothered?" You were surprised to hear Aegon call his mother by her name. Tears welled up in his violet eyes.

"I don't know sweet boy." You muttered.

"You are more of a mother to me than she could ever be." He cried clinging to you.

"Shh..." You comforted him.

"And father doesn't care for me! He only cares for Rhaenyra! She is his golden child while I am cast into the shadows!"

"My brother is not a good father, that is true." You muttered "It is not fair to you or your siblings."

"I only ever wished for him to be proud of me, but that will never happen will it?" He asked, his violet eyes reddened by tears.

"I will always be proud of you. I have seen you grow to a fine prince, a great dragon rider and cousin and I love you like I love my own children."

"I love you too, mom." Aegon whispered, you kissed the crown of his head.

...

"Blood of two, joined as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time of darkness and light." Viserys recited as he stood at the foot of Dragonmont.

You stood in front of Daemon dressed in Valyrian robes, holding a dragon glass knife as did your brother. You pressed the blade against your palm, causing blood to trickle. You pressed your finger in the blood and drew the symbol of fire on your brothers forehead. He drew the symbol of blood on your own.

"In the eyes of fourteen flames we are now joined, one soul, one body one heart." You and Daemon recited, two goblets of heated wine mixed with blood were handed to you. You took a swing of the drink and passed the cup to the servants.

Daemon pressed his palm against your cheek and pressed his lips against yours, you leaned into him and deepened the kiss. Vermithor and Caraxes roared circling the ceremony and breathed dragon fire.

...

The maids helped you take off the heavy headpiece that rested atop your brow. Annora unlaced the beige and red robes sliding it off your body. Soon you were left only in your linen nightgown, you hair free of any braids.

Once the maids left your brother entered our chambers, his body covered by a dark red robe.

"y/n" He approached you.

"Daemon." You answered, leaning into his embrace. "It seems you have finally gotten what you wanted after all those years."

"It appears that the god's have blessed me in some sort of way." He answered running his fingers through your hair. "Tell me you did not wish for this."

"At some point where I was young, after grandsire told me of his and grandmothers love story."

Silence befallen the chamber, shallow breaths occasionally broke the silence. Daemon kissed your neck and slowly made it's way to your lips. A breathy moan escaped you as his hands trailed down your body.

"My sweet wife." He murmured untying the nightgown and letting it drop to the floor leaving you naked.

You rolled your eyes and pressed your lips against his silencing him. He groaned and let you guide him to the bed, you laid on the comfortable mattress and Daemon crawled atop you. You could feel his cock press against your leg, you moved your hand down to wrap your fingers around him. Squeezing and pumping a few times.

"Enough teasing." Daemon groaned throwing his head back, he pressed his warm palm over yours and moved his dick so the head pressed against your entrance.

"Daemon..." You moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion. His dick felt different than your husband's, maybe a bit shorter but thicker.

"Soon, sweet girl." He whispered above your ear pressing a kiss against your temple, and slowly pushed in. Inch by inch until his pelvis pressed against your clit.

"Ah..!" You moaned breathily as he bottomed out, he slowly pulled out and pressed himself in one go.

"Will you give me a child?" Daemonn groaned above you "You looked so alluring pregnant."

"Daemon..." You moaned in response "Please!"

Your body moved with his hard thrusts, his chest pressed against your breasts squeezing them with his weight.

"Yes? I'll breed you well, then." Your husband moaned, as you squeezed around him.

You squeezed Daemon's shoulder, bringing his attention to your face.

"Hmm?" He murmured

"I wanna... on top." Daemon smirked and obeyed, pulling out laying comfortably on the bed awaiting your next move.

You straddled his hips, his cock pressed between your thighs. You sheathed his cock in your warm walls.

"Move, please." The rogue prince moaned under you, pressing his hips upwards for some friction.

"I didn't take my husband for a beggar." You teased refusing to move your hips. "I quite like it."

"Careful, sister." He groaned menacingly, putting his hands on your waist.

"It's fun to see you like this, moaning under me."

Daemon muttered something under his breath, and jutted his hips upwards. You chuckled and began to move your hips, bringing the coil in your belly closer to snapping.

"Close!" You squeaked, pressing your palms against Daemon's toned abdomen.

After a few hard thrusts your husband spilled inside, his warm seed brought your over the edge. Panting you clutched onto his shoulder, collapsing on his chest. Daemon chuckled, and wrapped his arms around your naked back.

"You did good, my love." He whispered pressing a kiss to your silver hair.

The funureal of Laena Velaryon and the conflict that arose on Driftmark only separated the Greens and Blacks. After a year Princess y/n and Daemon married and begun construction of castle Blackfyre. During the builidng of the castle many villages arose on the shore of Bloodstone and Grey Gallows. Now that the island was free of pirates trade erupted. The Ports build there rivalled Oldtown and Lannisport. Princess y/n used dragonfire to make the fort impenetrable and quick to build. After three years most of the castle Blackfyre was build. At the foot of the Volcano Dragonbone a dragonpit was built. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Eleven

Daemon x reader

Synopsis: Laenor’s funereal, politics. Alicent being a bad mom, Viserys being a idiot. Talk of Rhaenyra having more power.

Note: If you wish to be added to the taglist, comment. Greatly appreciate it.

Masterlist <-previous , next->

122 AC Driftmark

Five dragons left Bloodstone for Driftmark. Another funureal of a Velaryon. Baelon sat in front of Daemon, strapped by leather belts. Vhaenor was in Aegon's saddle and Aerion was held by you.

Vermithor the largest of the beasts flew ahead. Your youngest slept soundly strapped to your chest with cotton wraps. Occasionally involuntary moving in the swaddle.

You felt sorry for Rhaenyra, not only did she loose Harwin not long ago now her husband has perished. And what of Jace, Luke and Joffrey.

You heard the familiar screeches of Caraxes and the warmth of dragon fire, you glanced upwards to see the blood wyrm, Sunfyre and Moondancer chasing each other.

Rhaenys and Corlys looked awful, they lost all of their children in the span of four years.

Your favourite cousin looks bad clad in black, but that colour seemed to follow her. You wrapped your arms around Rhaenys, offering her your comforts.

"I am so sorry, Rhaenys, Corlys." You said taking Rhaenys's hands in yours.

"Thank you, cousin." The Queen who never was answered.

"We are glad you could make it." She forced a facade of confidence.

"It is all right, you do not need to fake being nice. You just lost your son, I would except you to scream, cry and rage."

"I have done my fair share of mourning already, Laena and now Laenor." She whispered, tears prickling her waterline.

"Whatever you need we and the Stepstones are at your disposal." You offered.

"Thank you, y/n." Corlys answered placing his palm on your shoulder, squeezing thankfully.

You returned to your family at the side of the cliffs, on the other side closer to the casket stood Rhaenyra and her three boys.

"Mama." Vhaenor tugged at your black mourning skirt.

"What is it?" You questioned leaning to his level.

"I'm sad." He muttered shyly, you smiled sadly at him. "I don't like it."

"Oh sweet boy, it is normal to feel sad sometimes. Especially when a member of your family passed. But soon you will feel better, the feeling will pass." You tried to console the two year old

"It will?" He hopefully asked.

"I'm sure of it."

Laenor's sea stone casket was being wrapped with ropes, soldiers of house Velaryon prepared to lower it into the salty sea.

You saw tears escape Rhaenya's and Laenor's children, the three boys wore teal doublets adorned with silver seahorses and black trousers. Jacaerys looked the most like his grandmother, Rhaenys with dark hair and indigo eyes.

Lucerys was most like his mother, silver-gold hair and blue eyes, while Joffrey named by Laenor was most like his father, curly dark hair with silver streaks and violet eyes but his face was entirely Laenor.

Your children with Daemon on the other hand were of typical Valyrian beauty. Baelon had silver hair and bright violet eyes, his eye and nose shape were just like Daemon's. Vhaenor was your spitting image with your red eyes and face shape.

Aerion was most like his grandmother Alyssa, Daemon said so. You never met your father's first wife but from what your brothers said, Aerion was very much like Alyssa.

You wondered what will Rhaenyra do now, her husband has perished, she has three children but she is still young. The realm will expect her to marry again. 

You took your children by their hands and walked over to where the realm’s delight was standing. You stared solemnly at Rhaenyra, you placed a hand on her cheek and brought the princess into a warm embrace. No words exchanged but that was fine, none were needed. 

The three boys standing around Rhaenyra on the other hand, looked at you with muted curiosity. 

„Jace, Luke, Joff this is your aunt Princess y/n.” Rhaenyra introduced, you kneeled next to the boys. 

„I’m sure you do not remember me, but we have met a few times before.” You said placing your palm on Jace’s rosy cheek. 

„Good morrow, princess.” Jace shyly answered. 

„You can call me aunt, Jace.” The dark haired boy nodded his head sheepishly. 

„I would like to introduce your cousins to you.” You slightly pushed Baelon and Vhaenor in front of the three Velaryons. 

The eldest of your princelings slightly bowed his head at them. 

„I’m Baelon.” He introduced himself „This is my brother Vhaenor, and the babe is Aerion.” 

„I’m Jacaerys this is Lucerys and Joffrey.” You watched as the two boys interacted. 

„How are you faring?” You questioned Rhaenyra leaving your sons to themselves. 

„It is not as hard as I thought it will be. I did love him, but it was more of a brotherly love. I’m thankful for the children we have…” She told you her thoughts and you listened intently. „I’m glad we left for Dragonstone when we did, I do not think I could have endured more of that vipers den. And Laenor, gods save him. He was a good father but not much more than that.” 

You slightly chuckled as you talked in a secluded area. 

„Do you think you’ll remarry?” You suddenly questioned. 

„I have a lover I am very close to… But I do not want to marry so soon. I wish to experience more freedom.” She answered smoothing her black gown with teal accents. 

„A lover you say?” You curiously asked, you saw as a blush spread on Rhaenyra’s pale face. 

„He is a noble man from Lys.” 

„Lys?” 

„Darys Ormollen.” She said without beating around the bush. 

„You do not mean… Aunt Saera’s son.” You remembered the name you heard in passing conversation. The heir only nodded. „How did you come to meet our cousin?” 

„It is a long story.” 

„I would love to hear it some day, and meet him. Perhaps we could even invite aunt Saera to the Stepstones.” 

„I don’t think she will accept but you can always try.” 

„It is important for our family to be together. Besides I didn’t even know she was married for a long time, Jaehaerys told me of Saera a few times but nothing of her life outside of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

The funereal procession started. The heads of house Celtigar, Massey, Darklyn and Bar Emmom were present. Corlys’s brother Aethan, delivered the eulogy. You watched with Rhaenyra your children and Daemon as Laenor’s casket was lowered into the sea. The same way Laena’s was four years ago. Baelon and Vhaenor were standing next to their cousins. Aerion was in your arms and Joffrey was in Rhaenyra’s. 

„May the winds guide into the the afterlife, nephew.” Aethan recited „For our words are the old, the true, the brave. You may not have been old, but you were true and brave.” 

You saw tears stain Jacaerys’s and Lucerys’s cheeks, your palms rested on their shoulders. With the back of your palm you wiped their tears. 

…

You watched as Viserys stumbled down the cliffs with Alicent and Otto by his side. Helaena and Aemond following after them. You approached his grace with Daemon and your children. 

„Your grace.” You bowed before your sickly brother. 

„Oh, y/n.” He wheezed „You certainly are a sight for sore eyes.” He placed his boney palm on your cheek. 

„Brother, you do not look well. Are the maesters treating you well? If you wish I can call upon my healers from Essos.” You offered putting your hand over his. 

„The maesters are taking great care of his grace. They do best they can.” Alicent butted in. 

„Perhaps their best isn’t enough.” Your husband snipped staring with wide eyes at his brother’s worsening condition. 

„Hush now husband I am sure the maesters are… healing our brother to the best of their abilities. Even if they are not enough.” 

„And your children, your highness?” Otto muttered chanting the subject „Happy news reached King’s Ladning that new dragons hatched.” 

„Yes, lord hand. Five dragons indeed hatched.” 

„And since when are you interested in dragon, Otto? I remember you said they are an abomination to your gods.” Daemon carelessly said. You tried to surpress a chuckle. Viserys through his hazines glanced disappointed at Otto. 

„Speaking of children, your graces we must return to them.” 

„And where is Aegon? He has not come greet me or his lord father.” Alicent questioned accusatory.  

„Aegon is with his cousins.” Your brother answered for you. 

„So you saddle him with taking care of babes, now?” The green Queen made a snide comment. 

„Oh not at all, your grace. He is simply offering his comforts to Baela and Rhaena. After all they just lost and uncle.” You intertwined your arm with Daemon. 

„I see.” She only muttered and the two of you left, returning to your children’s side. 

„Have you seen him? He looks like the stranger is eating him alive.” You whispered to Daemon, he nodded and squeezed you hand reassuringly. 

„The greens are ordering the maesters to be worsening his condition.” 

„We need our healers to take a look at him.” 

„And what if they don’t do anything?” 

You stayed quiet, consumed by thoughts on how to turn this situation in your favor. 

„What are you thinking of?” 

„Do you remember when our grandsire named father his hand when he was too sick to rule?” 

„You do not think..?” 

You nodded at your brother. 

„Viserys is sick, the greens control the throne. Rhaenyra is his heir, she should become her fathers regent and wear his crown.” 

The two children of Baelon the brave stared at Rhaenyra from afar. She and her children stood alone amongs the cliffs and salty sea. 

„It could work, but Otto is still hand. He will go against this, the council will side with him.” Daemon noticed, caressing your hand affectionately. 

„Then we have to think of a way to find new members of the small council, those who will be unwaveringly loyal to ’Nyra. And us of course. Still we have to get rid of Otto somehow, name a new hand.” 

„Corlys…He hates the greens as much as we do. His house is the richest in the seven kingdoms. He is old and experienced.” 

Your eyes widened surprised. 

„You would not want to be hand? I know you pestered Viserys for that position.” 

„I used to, but we would have to move to King’s Landing. I do not want to leave the Stepstones, I do not want our children to be raised there. At least on Bloodstone we are the rulers of our own lives, Baela and Rhaena are happy there and so is Aegon.” 

„You have changed.” You stated, a warm feeling spread in your insides. 

„Does my wife, enjoy it?” He teasingly questioned placing his large palms on your waist. 

„Very much so.” You smiled leaning into his warm embrace. 

„Your highness.” Annora approached the two of you with Aerion in her arms. He was fussing, you could see tears stain his chubby cheeks. „I’m sorry but he could not stop crying.” 

„It is fine, thank you.” You answered taking Aerion, he will be turning one soon.

„You coddle him.” Daemon stated taking him from your arms and into his. You could see that he started to wiggle in discomfort.

„Maybe he’s hungry.” You said feeling your sore breasts. 

„No, he is spoilt. You always hold him, you didn’t do that with Baelon or Vhaenor.” 

„It’s just… he’s so small.” 

„He’s healthy, my love. He’ll be fine without your embrace for a while.” Your husband answered keeping Aerion in his arms. 

You walked with Daemon through castle Driftmark. A dreary seat, even more than Dragonstone. Your children were taken to a spare nursery, that left you and Daemon in your temporary chambers. 

You sighed and begun to unlace the black mourning dress with silver accents. 

„Do you need help?” Daemon approached you from behind, without and answer he began to unlace the bodice and dress. 

„I need to change into something more comfortable.” You announced „This dress squeezes my breasts and I cannot take it anymore.” 

„Perhaps you are due to a visit to the tailor?” Daemon muttered sliding the fabric off your body. You raised your silver eyebrow. 

„Are you saying I’m too fat for my dresses?” 

„No, your tits are too big to fit in that dress. Although I do like to see them spill out of your cleavage. Perhaps I was wrong to mention a tailor.” Your husband teased caressing the side of your breast with his thumb. 

„I wasn’t so big after Vhaenor…” You stated staring at yourself in the mirror. 

„You aren’t big, y/n.” 

„Do you want more children?” You questioned turning to face Daemon, dressed in cotton underdress. 

„I want as many children as you will give me.” He leaned against your forehead. 

„A girl, then.” 

„A girl?” Daemon pressed a kiss to your neck, his hands roamed over your body. „As you wish, wife.” 

…

You slept comfortably tangled in Daemon’s arms, the bed was not as comfortable as the one you shared on Bloodstone. A knock stirred you out of sleep, you tried to ignore the sound but it was persistent. You groaned and wrapped your body in a silver robe and opened the door. 

„Aegon? What has happened so early?” You questioned leaning on the door frame. 

„His grace invited you and your family to break fast together.” He nervously said. 

„Now?” 

„In an hour or so.” 

„Why are you telling me this? You are not a servant.” 

„I’m… What if they order me to return with them?” You sighed at his broken heart expression, you wrapped him in your arms and caressed his messy silver gold hair. 

„I will fight to keep you with me.” You answers pressing a kiss to his temple. 

„Promise?” 

„I promise. Now go back to your chambers and dress, preferably in black it is a funeral after all.” 

He nodded and skipped off to your chambers, you sighed and pressed your hand against your forehead. It was too early for political warfare, you felt tired and a bit sore from the strenuous activities of the night before. 

You walked over to the bed where your husband laid, his naked back spread comfortably over the bed. 

„Daemon.” You nudged him, he groaned and turned away from you, you chuckled and sat on his abdomen keeping him in place. „Daemon.” You  whispered into his ear.

„hmm?” He murmured waking from sleep. 

„We are invited to break fast with our brother.” 

„How do you expect me to leave when I have you on top of me?” He cheekily said, your cheeks warmed and you felt him growing hard under you. 

„We do not have time…” You whispered. 

…

Your black dress with embroidered red dragon’s breath swayed with your movement. The long sleeves of the dress were in Baelon’s clutches as he walked next to you unsure. He did not like castle Driftmark nor did he like the sea. 

„Your highness.” Ser Erryk and Arryk Cargyll bowed as they guarded the King’s chambers. 

„Sers.” You answered and entered your brothers room with your family. 

Viserys barely lucid sat at a round table in the corner of the room, a weird smelling incense was burning in the chambers. 

You kissed his healthier cheek and took a place on his right, Daemon to his left. 

„Where is Alicent and the children?” You questioned. 

„It will be just us, my siblings.” He wheezed back, motioning for the servant to bring the food. 

„What is that smell?” Daemon asked sniffing the air. 

„Oh it is- it is an ailment the maesters prescribed.” Your brother answered breathlessly, you nodded at Daemon to put out the poison and open the windows. 

„I’m afraid it’s making the children a bit queasy, you do not mind if we open the windows?” You took Viserys’s hand in yours. He simply nodded and glanced at your eldest, Baelon. 

„And how are you, my nephew?” Viserys asked, the two boys looked at him unsure. Aerion stayed in the nursery. 

„I’m well, your grace.” The four year old answered playing with the hem of his doublet under the table. 

„There is…no need to call me your grace. I am your uncle you may adres me as such.” Your brother said, you smiled seeing the love he held for his family. „I heard you have a dragon.” 

„Yes! I call him Aegarax, he’s brave like Darren!” Baelon exclaimed happy to talk about his hatchling, simply forgetting the uneasiness he felt before. 

„You named him right, Baelon a strong name.” He turned to you. 

„Thank you, I do not remember our father but the stories grandsire told me of him makes me feel as if I did get to know him.” 

„And where is the babe?” He questioned. 

„In his nursery.” Daemon answered. 

„Viserys… do you think it well to name a regent?” You gently coaxed him into the new topic. 

„Regent? Otto is my hand, he does well in my absence.” His grace wheezed. 

„And how often does he rule in your absence. I’ve been hearing that he sits the throne every day.” Daemon a bit more harsh added. 

„My sickness keeps me abed most days, yes.” 

„Even the greatest Kings get sick or old and they need help. Their family’s help. Remember Jaehaerys? He named Baelon his hand and regent.” 

„Yes, father was an excellent hand despite his short time serving the role.” Viserys agreed. You noticed that once the incense cleared your brother seemed to get a bit better. More lucid. 

„Rhaenyra is your heir, you should let her take more responsibility. She is after all the future Queen.” 

Viserys pondered for a moment, he glanced at you then at Daemon. 

„Perhaps you are right…” He admitted. „I will have to talk with the council of this change.”

You sent a small smile in your husbands direction, he returned the gesture smugly. The Hightowers have controlled the throne far too long, as true dragons it was your duty to stop their rule.

The bigger problem however was Alicent Hightower, you couldn't dismiss a Queen as easily as a Hand. You knew Viserys never loved her, he may hold some affection for her but it couldn't compare to the feelings he held for Aemma.

"Have you thought of Aegon returning to King's Landing?" You suddenly asked, your brother raised his eyebrow. It is as if he just remembered he has a son.

"Oh yes... Aegon."

"He's turning into a man soon, brother." Daemon added.

"I suppose he is... what is the issue then?"

"Aegon doesn't want to return to the Red Keep." You stated matter of factly.

"Why wouldn't he? His siblings and mother are there." He said unaware.

"That castle is a viper's den, it is no surprise a boy of only five and ten wouldn't want to stay there. After he was raised for over a decade in a loving home."

"Alicent is his mother it is her choice in the end."

"You are the King, Viserys. I'm sure it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for you to have the last say. I'm sure Aegon would be thankful." You stated

"I..." He wheezed "Bring him." He ordered.

Aegon dressed in a black doublet and trousers, the cape on his shoulders was of a deep crimson.

"Your grace." He bowed his head slightly at his sitting father "Aunt, Uncle."

"Aegon, sit." He ordered, the boy took a seat next to his little cousins. You smiled symphatically at Aegon as he uncomfortably cowered under Viserys's gaze. "I have heard you wish to stay with your aunt and uncle, is this true?"

"...Yes, father." He nodded unsure.

"I see no reason to-" Viserys was cut off in the middle of the sentence, the doors opened and Alicent stepped in the chambers. Her dark green dress flowing after he movements.

"Husband, son. Princess y/n, Prince Daemon." She was out of breath as she acknowledged your presence.

"Alicent." Viserys wheezed "What are you doing here? I... I didn't call for you."

"I came to see my son." Aegon tensed at his mothers words.

"We have just been talking of extending his wardship." Viserys answered and in that moment you wanted to commit treason and strangle your brother for his idiocy.

"What?" She asked in disbelief.

"I wish to stay with my aunt and uncle, your grace." Aegon meekly said.

"That is out of the question. Your wardship has come to an end, there is no reason for you to stay on that rock any longer."

"Lady Mother-" He wanted to speak but Alicent silenced him with a flick of her wrist.

"And you would allow this?" She glared at Viserys "For them to take away my son from me? Again?"

"I am not taken away anywhere, I want to remain with my cousins and aunt." Aegon explained but Alicent ignored his pleas.

"Aegon..." You whispered to the boy who had tears in his eyes.

"Don't you see Viserys! She has raised my son! Poisoned him against me, and his family!"

"Alicent! Mind your tongue. My sister has done and admirable job at raising Aegon, you should be thanking her instead of spitting such vile accusations." Viserys said angrily glaring at his Hightower wife. "If it is Aegon's wish to remain in the stepsons he may do so until his eight and tenth birthday when he shall return to King's Landing."

"My King-" Alicent tried to speak.

"My decision is final, Alicent."

King Viserys's health has deteriorated over the years making him incapable of sitting the throne. He named his heir Princess Rhaenyra regent until he would be able to rule once more. Many believe that is is Princess y/n and Prince Daemon's doing for the realm delight to sit the throne. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

Taglist:

@nessjo

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Thirteen

Daemon x reader

Summary: Aegon turns sixteen, Rhaenyra arrives at bloodstone.

Masterlist <-previous , next->

123 AC

You caressed your slightly firm tummy as you stared at your reflection. Your thin linen gown allowed you to see your body. You sighed and turned around arriving at your desk. Various papers, inks. scrolls laid scattered on the piece of wood. A single candle illuminated the side of your face as you went over the books. 

The island’s income is getting better with every month. Merchants now know that they will not be attacked by rouge pirates or scavengers. Trade boomed, the ports grew like mushrooms after rain. 

But for your husband it was not enough. Well with seven children and five grown dragons things were not steep. The castle was still being built, chambers, dungeons, cellars all the works were added. Daemon demanded a castle as grand as the Red Keep but more fortified. You then questioned your brother.

“Why do we need such a large castle? There is only a handful of us. We do not hold court even.” 

“We are Targaryens we deserve nothing but the best.” He simply answered. You chuckled at his words, but he was honest in his determination. The castle grew each month, builders, masons, artists were employed. 

“What are you reminiscing about?” Daemon asked entering your private chambers. “You were not abed in our chambers.” 

“I had to go over the spending and income.” You answered pointing to the heavy tome in front of you. 

“You can do that all later, or at all.” He mused walking behind you. He placed a kiss at the nape of your neck, leaning over the chair. You leaned into his touch sighing quietly. “You should be resting.” 

“I am fine, Daemon. ‘Tis not the first time I am doing this.” You swatted away his worries. 

“Many women in my life fell to childbirth. My aunts, my mother and Laena. I simply do not wish to see you in pain.” 

“While I thank you for your worries, husband. I am perfectly capable of caring for myself. I have before, I shall do it now.” You answered beginning to scribble with a quill. “You should have faith in me, Daemon.” 

“I have nothing but faith, but childbirth is not something you or anyone else can control.” 

“Hmm.” You agreed and rolled your shoulders. 

“How is she?” He questioned after a moment of silence. His large, warm palm pressed against your flat but slightly firm tummy. That indicated life. 

“She’s fine. Makes me feel tired and nauseous but she’s fine.” 

“How will we name her?” 

“I haven’t thought about it, have you?” 

“…I have.” 

“And? What did you come up with?” 

“Perhaps Alyssa after my mother, or Gael after your mother.” 

“I do not like naming my children after other people, Baelon of course being the exception.”

“Why is that?” He questioned curiously. 

“I think that… names posses a certain power. Our names affect us, they add to our personality. What happened when you name a child after a man who was brutally murdered or a woman who turned insane. It just it seems weird to me. Especially the name Aegon.”

“Aegon? What’s wrong with that.” 

“I believe the conqueror’s names are cursed, but more so the name Aegon.” 

“Why?”

“Aegon the first is the patriarch of our house. He launched us into greatness, without him we still would be on dragon stone. No future Aegon will ever amount to his greatness, they cannot. No matter how hard they try. And each Aegon gets a worse faith than the last."

"How is that?"

"Aegon, Aenys's son was slain by Balerion. He was hated by the realm. Jaehaerys's and Alysanne's Aegon died in the cradle, your brother Aegon also died in the cradle."

"And what about this Aegon?" Daemon questioned.

"He is the son that Viserys so desired, only to throw him away after his birth, focusing only on Rhaenyra. Hated by his mother for being a reminder of the youth that was stripped from her. I want him to be happy, but I know his life will be filled with hardships."

Daemon nodded and silence fell between the two of you. You continued to scribe in the books as your husband watched you work.

"You never told me what happen in Dorne." The rogue prince said breaking the silence. You sighed and put the quill away.

"Because it would be treason." You simply answered.

"Treason? Now you piqued my interest, do pray tell."

"The man that poisoned Darren was hired by a man that served in the red keep. He said he was wearing green, the Queen's colours. The servant girl that delivered the poison is from some village near Old Town. I went to the maester's chambers, herbs used for making essence of Nightshade laid scattered through the shelves."

"You do not suggest it is that green's snake doing?" Daemon muttered. "But why? She's as pious as one can be. I think it is against her religion to kill a child."

"Isn't it obvious?" You questioned raising and eyebrow at him "She attacked my eldest son, as I have taken her eldest away from her. It is revenge."

"Otto would never allow it. I hate the cunt be he is clever."

"But you forget that Alicent is Queen, higher than the hand. Perhaps a fe years ago she wouldn't even take a breath if her father told her so. But now, she's a woman, a Queen and an anchor for the faith. She has loyal supporters."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"...I don't know, attacking her would be stupid. Demanding justice, stupid. She would just deny and accuse us of treason, we have to bide our time and gather more evidence."

"I'll see to it."

You nodded and watched your husband leave. You released the breath you were holding. What if Alicent truly meant to kill your son, will she stop after the first attempt or continue. Are any of your children safe?

You heard the door open once more.

"I will join you soon, Daemon." You muttered focusing on the heavy tome in front of you.

"Is it true?" You immediately raised your gaze to find Aegon standing before you. Fists balled up in anger. "Is my mother responsible for what happened to Darren."

"Aegon-" You stood up and took a careful step towards him.

"Tell me!" He raised his voice, you sighed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"I believe so..." A beat of silence passed.

"I have to go back." He stated suddenly.

"What?" You stalked towards him, you took his cheeks into your palms.

"She won't stop trying to hurt your family as long as I'm with here, and not with her."

"You are my family Aegon." You reasoned

"It's my fault Darren is hurt."

"That's nonsense, sweet boy. You are not responsible for your parent's actions. No child is."

"But I'm not a child am I? I'm a man now, I cannot hide behind your skirts hoping you'll fix my messes." Aegon lamented.

"Aegon, this is not your fault." You mused caressing his wavy hair.

"I have to go, I'll send a letter to my mother saying that I'll return to King's Landing." He stated "When they come for my name day celebration I'll return with them."

"You'll always have a place in my home, Aegon."

"I- thank you." He stiffly said and left your chambers.

...

Aegon stalked the halls searching for the familiar path that led him to Darren's room. He stopped at the foot of the door, his hand raised to knock. But he decided to enter unannounced.

The dark haired teen laid motionlessly in his bed. A duvet covered half his body. Aegon sat at the food of the bed, he sighed deeply and placed his head in his hands.

Darren stirred startling the Targaryen prince.

"Aegon?" Darren groggily asked seeing the familiar silhouette. "What are you doing here?"

"I- " He tried to form the words but nothing left his lips. Instead tears begun to pool in the corner of his violet eyes.

"Aegon what's wrong." Darren threw the covers off his body and sat next to Aegon, shoulders touching.

"I'm going back." The older boy finally said.

"Back where?" Oblivious, the Martell Prince asked.

"To King's Landing."

"What?" He breathlessly said. "No... No you promised you'll stay with me."

"You think I don't want to?" Aegon raised his voice and stared at the Dornish Prince before him, tears cascaded down his pale cheeks. "But it's my fault you're like this."

"How is my poisoning your fault?"

"It's my mothers doing."

"So it's not your fault then." Aegon widened his eyes.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you? Sure I'm mad I almost died but it's not because of you."

"Alicent won't stop trying to hurt you, or your siblings until I come back."

"And who said that?"

"It's obvious, Darren. She's mad that I was "taken" from her, so she's trying to get revenge on your mother by hurting you."

Darren chuckled, falling backwards onto the bed. Aegon joined him, his silver curls forming a halo. Darren found Aegon's hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I don't want to go, Darren." Aegon cried staring at the ceiling, tapestries of myths displayed in front of him.

"I know." The boy mused caressing, the olders palm with his thumb.

"But I have to, for your safety."

"Hmm." Darren sighed turning to stare at Aegon's profile.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I don't know when will be the next time I'll get to see you like this. I want to memorise your face." Aegon blushed slightly. "Will you be okay?"

Aegon turned to stare at Darren's dark eyes.

"I'll have Sunfyre, I'll be fine."

"If you wish you'll always have a place at my court." Darren proposed.

"Your mother said the same thing."

"I am like my mother aren't I?"

"It's a good thing, you're courageous, caring and clever. y/n raised you well."

"She raised you as well, that means you're also good. A bit quiet but smart, brave like a dragon and handsome too." Darren teased, Aegon pushed him slightly as the younger laughed.

…

“Raise the chandelier higher.” You ordered standing in the middle of the ball room. The preparations for Aegon’s name day were hard to organize. The whole court along with other nobles will arrive any day now.

“Your highness which cloth should be placed over the tables.” You stared at the three different types of cloth the servant was holding. You pointed to the one of your choosing.

“I see you’re hard at work.” Daemon entered the hall. He placed a kiss to your lips and caressed your growing belly.

“Hmm.” You hummed and turned to coordinate to preparations. “I cannot wait to entertain all those nobles I hated as a child.”

“If you need me to cut out their tongues, just call me.”

“No matter how pleasing that sound I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” You chuckled.

“The offer still stands if you wish.”

You heard dragon roars outside the castle. The familiar high pitched clicking of Syrax put a smile on your face. At least Rhaenyra will be here to accompany you.

“It seems we have guests.” Daemon said hearing the same.

“Yes, let’s go to the pit. Talya!” You shouted searching for the maid in charge of your children.

“Yes, your highness?”

“Please gather the children.” The maid dressed in a white hair covering bowed and scurried off. “I’ll go find Darren.”

Daemon nodded and went his way, you departed to climb the many stairs leading to the part of the castle that contained chambers.

You entered Darren’s chambers quickly and quietly. To your surprise you found Aegon in bed with him, the two sleeping. You sighed deeply and sat at the corner of the bed. Is this why they were so awkward with each other? But they seem at peace now.

You placed a hand on Darren’s shoulder and shook him gently. He awoke and yawned.

“Hello mother.” He simply said and continued to doze off. Aegon on the other hand shot up from the bed.

“Uh, a-aunt.” Aegon muttered covering his eyes with his hands.

“Good morrow Aegon.” You smiled and stood up walking over to the heavy wardrobe and pulling out garments for your eldest son. “Get up you two, freshen up and dress. Rhaenyra will be arriving soon.”

“I- Y-You’re not mad?” Aegon whispered. Darren stirred and sat up.

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” You questioned throwing Darren’s clothes at him, he mumbled a thank you mother and went to dress. Aegon stared in surprise at Darren.

“Well I-… Um I and Darren?” He stumbled over his words.

“Oh that? I suspected for quite some time." You admitted, Aegon paled. "Now get up and get dressed, guests will be arriving soon."

The two scurried away preparing for the welcome feast and a week of celebration.

You walked through the halls, various sculptures, tapestries and paintings hung from the walls. Torches illuminated and heated the cold stoney walls. Handmaidens, servants, cooks, butchers and others stalked through the castle, preparing chambers, food and cleaning the whole premises. You sighed and rubbed your belly.

Baela and Rhaena along with Nymor and the nursemaids that held your younglings were already awaiting your presence. The only left was Daemon, Darren and Aegon.

You brushed a loose strand of short hair from Baela’s cheek. She huffed at the pestering.

“Do I have to wear this?” She pointed to the teal dress with myrish lace and ruffles.

“Only for a short time, Baela. Then you can change into whatever you like.” You mused and walked over to Rhaena. She wore a soft pink gown with gold trimmings. Her long hair was half up and half down, a slight blush covered her cheeks.

“You look spledning, Rhaena.” You nodded at her, her twin snickered.

“It’s all for Luke no doubt.” She chuckled, Rhaena opened her mouth and then closed it, spewing a weak shut up.

“Do not pick on your sister.” Daemon approached and scolded the elder girl. Baela sunk in her position and nodded begrudgingly.

The gates opened to reveal three sets of carriages. The horses neigh and stomped their hooves. The knights riding ahead halted.

“Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the heir to the iron throne!” One of her banner men shouted. The small family begun to pour out of the stuffy carriage.

Rhaenyra sighed in relief as she glanced at the castle, her three sons followed suit and stood next to her.

The whole courtyard bowed before the princess of the realm, the heir quickly walked towards the gates.

“Princess, what an honor it is for you to grace us with your presence.” You bowed, a smirk played on your lips. Rhaenyra scoffed and motioned with her hand for you to stand. “It is good to see you.” You engulfed Rhaenyra in your arms, the younger woman returned the gesture.

“Rhaenyra.” Daemon approached taking her ringed hand and placing a kiss on her palm.

“Uncle.” She responded, her eyes fell towards your children. “And how have you all grown.”

You chuckled and took the heir by her arm “Come I am sure you are tired from your journey.”

…

“I have heard of what happened to Darren.” Rhaenyra said once you were comfortable in the sanctity of her chambers. “Terrible.”

“Yes… but he’s fine now.” You agreed.

“Are you not going to seek justice?”

“What do you propose I do? Fly to King’s Landing and demand the execution of the Queen?” You rubbed your temple “Time will come.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Rhaenyra sighed and reached for an empty goblet. She poured herself the sweet Dornish wine and took a sip.

“Now, what is this urgent business you had to tell me of?” You questioned.

“My father has proposed me a seat on the council.” She said.

“As hand?”

“As regent…I suppose it is your doing.” The Violet eyed woman mused. She took a seat next to you.

“Partially.” You admitted “Your father is sick, he does not sit the throne. Why would his hand rule in his steed when he has an appointed heir.”

“I am grateful for what you’ve done, but I’m not going to.” Her words shocked you, your eyes widened as you took in her features.

“Why?” Your voice came out a bit harsh, startling Rhaenyra.

“I do not wish to spend another moment in that vipers den, along with her. And my sons do not want to either.”

“You cannot be such a fool Rhae.” You demanded. “An opportunity of power is laid on a silver platter and you cast it aside over a squabble?”

“It is not a squabble-“ Rhaenyra protested but you silenced her.

“Whatever happened between you and Alicent was years ago. You are the heir but that does not do much. Viserys has a son and there are lords who will petition for him to be King instead of you. You must prevent this in the earliest stage of development .”

“And becoming regent will do that?” She questioned her brows furrowed.

“Of course! You’ll hold more power than the hand, you will show the realm you’re its rightful Queen. And when Viserys dies you will be there to inherit the crown.”

The realms delight sighed and sunk into her seat.

“After all these years of hoping for a son and failing he noticed me and named me heir. Defying custom and tradition. But now when he do gets a son he casts him aside. Fate is a funny thing isn’t it?”

You hummed agreeing.

“I wanted to visit you and introduce you to a person I hold dear to my heart.” Rhaenyra said after a moment of silence.

“Is he here?” You questioned knowing who she was speaking of. She nodded. “And what is your plan? Will you marry him? Name him Prince consort?”

“I do not know. Not now anyway.” She admitted “He makes me feel loved and appreciated. He likes the boys and is a good father figure to them.”

“But he’s Essosi.” You finished for her. “He has Valyrian blood, maybe it could be a pretext.”

“Maybe.”

…

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𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑜𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓀𝒾𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓈…” ❤️‍🔥

“Dear brother. I had hoped you were dead.”

“After you. You are the elder.”

Night of the Broken Dragons

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Word count: 1869

Warnings: Reader is son of Rhaenyra and Daemon

pt2 here

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

- To my nephews, Jace and Luke, may they always be Strong.

It was with that speech that Aemond Targaryen ruined the entire family dinner, Y/N's brothers fought with his uncles while his father and mother tried to stop them.

Y/N could only watch Aemond from afar, wondering how much time he had wasted with his uncle, and how much he wanted to be there the night his younger brother removed his eye.

He always wondered if with his calmer spirit he could have calmed the situation, avoided the insults his brothers received, and perhaps avoided one of the great reasons for his uncle's hatred.

- Go to your room my love, you don't need to see this. - Daemon said in his son's ear.

Y/N knew in his heart, with a certain weight, that he was his father's favorite son. Technically he was the son of Laenor Velaryon, whom he greatly cherished and missed. But he knew that the reason his legitimacy had never been questioned was because his mother, in a meeting with Daemon after the wedding, conceived him. 

He was the only "son" of Laenor Velaryon who had the blond hair and violet eyes, typical of the Targaryen house.

A soldier helped him get to his room, arriving at his quarters he kindly dismissed the maids who wanted to help him get ready for bed.

Despite being royalty, he had always liked simplicity and calm, his mother often called him her Meek Dragon.

A few knocks on the door echoed into the room and he could soon hear his mother's voice.

- Can I enter?  - Rhaenyra asked.

- Of course mother.

The woman opened the door and came to meet her son, giving him a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

- I came to check if everything was okay with you, Daemon told me that you came to your quarters as soon as... the confusion started.

The princess's eyes grew a little heavy when she saw her son's sad expression.

- Will it always be like this? This endless fight? I miss when I was a kid and these things didn't matter.

- I'm sorry my love, families are complicated. And I know ours is especially complicated.

Y/N sighed, nodding with regret in his heart.

- Sometimes I think if I could do something to change this situation, I know I'm not the eldest child but I feel responsible for my brothers, I wish I could take care of them, have avoided this disaster that happened so many years ago.

Rhaenyra gave her son another hug.

- My dear meek dragon, I know that your heart has the purest intentions than any of us, but that ship was already predicted to sink long before your birth or the birth of your brothers. - Rhaenyra said while running her hand through her son's long silver hair - But I don't want you to worry about that, we'll be back home soon, you'll be able to go back to your normal routine and not be bothered by these matters.

With another kiss on her son's head, Rhaenyra said goodbye, wishing him good night.

Y/N was soon asleep, and a dream of a memory he still had hovered over his mind.

- Come on Aemond, the dragon cubs are still small!  They won't hurt us - said a little Y/N to a younger version of Aemond.

The two children ventured to the part of the pit where the cubs were.  Aemond always assuming a protective posture over his nephew, he still didn't have his dragon and he knew that his nephew already had one, but that wasn't enough reason for him to stop taking care of the safety of the beautiful young man with curious and excited eyes.

When they finally reached the baby dragons, only one was in sight where they could pet it.

- Are you sure it's safe? - Y/N asked, looking at his uncle with some fear.

- Yes, they are still easier to deal with. - Aemond replied as he affectionately approached the little dragon and stroked his head.  - Come! He won't bite you.

Aemond took Y/N's hand and carefully guided him to the head of the small silver dragon, who seemed a little interested in both of them.

Y/N laughed and kissed his uncle on the cheek, who soon had a blush on his face with happiness.

- Thank you for coming with me. - Y/N said.

- One day it will just be me, you, and the dragons, my nephew.

Y/N has awakened. He was deeply sad that the dream was over, and he knew that it was one of the last good memories he had with Aemond.

He got up, already knowing that sleep would not accompany him for the rest of the night, put on warmer clothes and shoes and started to open the door, which was guarded by Sir Aric.

- Sir Aric, I'm sleepless and would like to take a walk through the palace gardens, would you mind accompanying me?

Y/N knew that the guard would go with him anyway, but he always thought that kindness could never be too much.

- Yes, my prince, it would be an honor.

The prince went out with his knight to walk through the night of the palace, with the lights low, and the gardens being lit only by the moon.

Not long after entering the garden, Y/N saw a figure with long silver hair, wearing a green cloak, sitting by the fountain, it was his uncle Aemond.

- Sir Aric, please wait for me at the entrance, I will talk to my uncle for a while.

- Are you sure, my prince?  - The faithful knight asked.

- Yes, everything is fine.

Y/N slowly approached his uncle, sitting next to him, for a moment the two remained in an awkward silence, with only the noise of insects in the background.

- Couldn't you fall asleep either? - Y/N asked in a low tone of voice.

- Obviously not. - Aemond replied with disdain.

Another awkward silence fell between the two Targaryens but neither had the courage to move away from each other.

- Me, you, and the dragons... remember that? - It was Aemond who took the initiative to speak this time.

- As if I could forget... - Y/N said with regret in his voice.

- I was serious when I said that.  - Aemond finally moved so he could look his nephew in the eyes.

- Lately I thought you had just decided to hate me.  - Y/N said, now also looking into Aemond's eyes.

- I wanted to hate you, believe me I really wanted to hate you.

- Then why don't you hate it? Apparently it's so easy with my brothers.

- You know it's different with you.

- Why? Because I'm blonde and have violet eyes? Or because I didn't take part in that stupid fight you had when we were kids?  - Y/N said, raising his voice.

- That stupid fight took my eye!  -Aemond said, removing the eye patch and showing the jewel that was in the place where he also once had a violet eye.

- That fight took my best friend away from me... but I don't expect you to understand that.

Y/N began to deeply regret having approached his uncle, he didn't know why his calmness, always so constant around him, was disappearing, he began to withdraw from his presence when Aemond held him by the arm.

- Wait.

- For what?  So we can exchange more childish insults as if we were ten years old?

Once again the little prince began to leave his uncle's presence.

- I need to tell you a secret - Aemond said in a muffled voice.

Y/N turned carefully, what could possibly be on Aemond's mind to share with him?  Did he still have his trust?

- Y/N, there is something I have kept inside me for years, something I never dared to confess to anyone, not even myself.  But tonight, with all these family conflicts, I feel like I can't keep this secret any longer.

Y/N, surprised, stares at Aemond, waiting for him to continue.

Aemond takes a deep breath and begins:

- Since we were children, from the moment I can remember, my heart has belonged to you, Y/N Targaryen. It's not a love that I chose, it's a love that just happened. And as much as I tried to deny it, repress it, and hide it, it only grew stronger every day.

Y/N is speechless, his eyes meeting Aemond's, full of emotion and uncertainty.

Aemond concludes:

- I don't expect you to feel the same way, and I understand the complications this brings to our family.  But I needed you to know the truth, Y/N. My love for you is real and deep, and I can no longer hide it. I was serious that day in the dragon pit.

The two men remain silent, the weight of Aemond's confession hanging over them as the night breeze whispers through the trees of the castle gardens.

Y/N looks deeply into Aemond's eyes, his heart racing at his uncle's confession.  After a moment of reflection, he finally answers truthfully:

- Aemond, I was not prepared to hear this tonight, and it takes me by surprise. But I value the courage you had in sharing your feelings with me. We are linked by blood and our complicated family history, and this confession just makes it more complex.

- I just don't want to feel rejected anymore.

Y/N listens to Aemond's words and realizes the deep pain in his uncle.  He places his hand over Aemond's heart and says with empathy:

- Aemond, I understand what you're feeling, and the last thing I want is for you to feel rejected. You've always been an important part of my life, and I don't want that to change. Let's face this together, with care and respect one for the other.

Aemond looks at his nephew as if he were his whole world, and at that moment he was, nothing else mattered to him.  Then in a rush he takes his nephew's lips for himself.

Aemond's kiss takes Y/N by surprise, but after the first moment of hesitation, Y/N allows his feelings to speak louder. Their lips meet in a kiss filled with emotion and desire, marking a new chapter in their lives.

Y/N feels a mixture of confusion and excitement, but also a deep connection with Aemond.

Aemond leans his nephews against one of the garden's stone walls and starts kissing his neck, knowing that in the morning those will be marks.

- Uncle... - Y/N moans.

- If you want me to stop, I will stop.

- No... uncle, I need you.

- You look beautiful begging but I don't want to take you here in the middle of the garden.  May I accompany you to your quarters? - Aemond asks, excited about his love's correspondence.

-Yes. - Y/N responds, finally understanding all the times he felt incomplete, needing someone and never understanding why.

They had that night to themselves, nothing mattered, no family conflict, the succession of the throne, their parents, nothing mattered, they could deal with it later, but in that moment they would have each other and they would cling to it like one clings to life

Everyone remembers where they were