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bl00dlight · 1 month

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A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

Warning; future chapters will include:

Graphic Violence, XXX content, Targcest, Spoilers, Canon depravity, death and war, troubling being afoot, menacing, mischief making, genocide, murder, blood, guts, dragons etc.

Word Count ~ 2k+

Index

i ●ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi● vii ● viii ● ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

Prelude ~

Princess Visenya Targaryen, had always been cited as a fair & bold creature. Born in 111AC, a smile that gleamed with mischief adorned her face, marking her most like her mother Rhaenyra. She was, indeed, the picture of a Valyrian Princess, the picture of her mother – with wide eyes and demure glances which hid the current of cunning beneath. She was a but harmless thing, playful at best, impish at worse; at least so far as her grandsire King Viserys thought. Proclaimed as the Leoner Velaroyn’s only daughter – the Princess did not inherit her father’s deeper skin or the ringed seafoam shaded locks of Velaryon women. Visenya in fact, did not possess many of House Velaroyn’s traits, both of the body and mind she seemed of true Targaryen stock, and it was but her mother Rhaenyra who knew, the young princess indeed was just that. Visenya’s impish glares and taunts were alike to that of The Rouge Prince, and to the common Lord or Lady of the court, one might think she inherited such a trait from her mother’s uncle. However, other more insidious rumours deemed Visenya a bastard of Prince Daemon’s, conceived by her mother unknowingly, right before she had wed Ser Leanor. Such rumours would be deemed, most truthful.

i - 'Old Wounds'

123 AC ~

The Princess Visenya, having but defying her mothers’ orders found her way to the Dragonpits alone, once more. She snuck through the winding caverns the soft glow of firelight shading the stone walls, her crimson dress dragging along the volcanic sand below. It was a soothing place, she thought, the warmth of the air… the smell of dragonfire which would linger upon one’s flesh, the gentle growls, and mummers of stirring Dragons. A place in which only a Targaryen might feel at ease. However, it was not the mummers of waking dragons which echoed through the caves in which Visenya heard. Her head peaked, her brow furrowing in confusion as she heard stifled sobs. Wrathful sobs.

She walked with caution, following the solemn sound until she stumbled upon him. The silver haired boy with his knees to his chest, his fists tightly scrunched. She stopped, taking in the sight, a most startling one for the Princess. Aemond.

It was only but a few hours ago that she had heard of her half-brother’s marvellous prank, allying with their eldest Uncle, Prince Aegon; to give Prince Aemond a pig instead of a dragon, to lure and taunt him just to see his face fall from glee to humiliation. Visenya had coiled with hearty laughter as her brother’s recounted the story, she longed to have been there, to see the propitious Prince Aemond faulter. However, her joy was shortly curtailed as Aemond had stumbled upon the scene, the imprint of his stern furrow upon hearing Visenya’s laughter still within her mind. Indeed, the sight she saw before her now, was unlike his affectedly stern façade – it was weak, crumbling, hurt.

The young Princess approached him softly, her face washed with a slight uncertainty.

“Aemond?” Her voice echoed quietly.

Aemond lifted his chin. A thin veil of tears dampened his lashes, his eyes red, bloodshot, and heavy with sorrow. In response, the prince simply glanced down, his expression sullen.

"I’ve no interested in your gloating." He said.

The silver haired girl raised an eyebrow. Her mouth curved upwards in a bemused smirk. "Why would I gloat? It was a rather clever prank. Regardless, it was not I who did it."

The prince’s fists clenched. His knuckles turning white as he looked up at her, his grey eyes glaring. "Yet you snickered all the same, you all laughed at my expense! I cannot forget what you all did to me, how you all..." His voice trailed off, his gaze falling to his fists. When he looked back at her, there were fresh dampness under his cheeks as his expression turn bitter.

“Leave. I should not like you reporting back to your brothers the details of my misery.” His voice a low warning.

“I had no intention to.” Visenya raised her brow, her arms folded. As she looked upon the prince she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of pity, his gaze so bitter… so wrathful. She sighed, coming down to sit beside him.

“It was a mere jest. Do not tear yourself to bits over it. Your thoughts are far harsher than the truth of it.” Her attempt at sympathy making her cringe.

“You know nothing of my thoughts!” Aemond snapped.

The air settled between them for a moment, the silence brutal as she looked to him, her hand hesitantly placing itself on his shoulder. Aemond snapped his head, his eyes narrowing as he brushed her hand away.

“I do not need your pity.” His tone curt.

The princess rose, scoffing as she extended her hand to him below. “Get up.” She spoke promptly.

His face coiled with both refusal and confusion. “What?” He snapped.

“I said, get up. If you do not need my pity, so be it. But I cannot stand to listen to your whining any longer. Come, I am visiting Silverwing, and you shall be my torch bearer.” She smiled mischievously, her hand lifting him up, then walking to another torch mounted on the stone walls, using it’s flame to set hers alight.

Visenya walked back, forcing the rough trunk of wood into his hand. “No- “His voice grating as she then shoved her hand upon his mouth. His eyes wide with shock as she crooned into his face.

“Enough of your sulking. Come. You wish for a Dragon, no? Then you ought to learn how to tend to one.”

She pulled him with her, further into the dark caverns of the Dragonpit until they came to Silverwing’s lair. “Silverwing, māzigon naejot nyke.” Visenya cooed. Silverwing, come to me.

The sudden shake of the earth bellow accompanied the grumbling of the large beast, her silver scales gleaming by the flickering torch light. Visenya turned, glancing at Aemond, his eyes like moons boring into her dragon.

She watched as he stepped back, his neck tilting upwards, the breeze hitting his silver hair. A smug smile came to Visenya’s lips as she turned to Aemond. His face was still set in stone, his gaze hardening as he watched the great beast. "So," the princess prompted, "Are you going to pet her? Or shall you remain sulking?”

Aemond's lips parted, he was about to make a snide remark before sighing. "Of course not." He walked closer to the dragon, standing a few feet away from her. The beast was enormous, the sheer size of her body dominating the wide cave, her lithe yet robust frame looming over the two young Targaryen’s. Silverwing's grey head looked down at him, her eyes narrowing. The prince had not stopped to wonder how the dragon would react. Aemond grumbled under his breath, then took a hesitant step forward. He looked at the dragon, its shining silver scales glinting in the dim light, his breathing hitched. The Prince could not help his anxiety, he had never been so close to a dragon before… never felt its hot breath warm his skin. He moved closer, swallowing a ball in his throat.

Aemond had taken another step forward when Silverwing's body rattled with warning, her low growls causing his steps to falter, his hand tightening on the base of the torch. He would not allow himself to look away, he would not show fear, nor would he retreat. The torch cast a long shadow upon the cave walls, Silverwing’s breath rapidly increasing as he moved closer, her nostrils flaring with each exhale. The dragon's eyes did not stray from the young prince, studying his every movement as Visenya let out a soft chuckle, revelling in his rattled stance.

"She shall not bite you." An amused smirk curled upon her lips. "Silverwing, māzigon." she cooed. The dragon's head turned, her eyes focusing on the princess before she did so.

"There, you see?" Visenya asked, she looked over to him, a small part of her finding the utmost enjoyment in the nervous expression he wore. The dragon raised her chin, letting out a soft whisp of hot air from her nostrils.

Visenya’s amusement brought no pleasure to Aemond, his expression taut, his neck tilting up to look at the dragon approaching him. The dragon halted, lowering its head almost appearing as though it were sneering at the young prince. Aemond stilled, taking one step back as Silverwing’s jaw neared him. Visenya’s eyes wide with an intrigue as she watched her dragon interact with her uncle. Silverwing was indeed, sizing him out. Aemond’s chest rose, and with that he stepped back once more, folding his arm as though he were unimpressed with the beast’s size. Silverwing giving out a soft huff as she moved, her large head nudging against Visenya.

“She was Queen Alysanne’s dragon.” Aemond spoke matter-of-factly.

“You know of her histories?” The princess raised her brow.

“Unlike you, I have decidedly taken an interest in our House’s legacy. It apart of our duty.” Aemond replied, firmly.

Visenya scoffed, turning as she sauntered towards him, her arms folded as a smug smile appeared upon her lips. “I am far too busy actually flying and tending to my dragon to have time to reading of other Targaryen’s doing the same.” Her voice haughty.

“I have yet to see you do such a thing.” He furrowed his brow in disbelief.

Aemond watched as Visenya placed a gentle hand upon Silverwing, whispering a soft farewell before they exited her lair, the princess spoke smugly, “Yes, well I do not expect you to pay much attention to my doings. Regardless, I am already rather adapt, Daemon said I did not need a saddle so-“

“Daemon?” Aemond raised his brow, and Visenya shrugged, nonchalantly about the fact. “Yes.”

The young prince furrowed his brow in deep disapproval, his stern demeanour returning as he stopped, Visenya turning as he spoke.

“Uncle should know better than to allow such a thing.” He barked. Visenya stepped forward scoffing. “So? Those bloody Maesters- “

Aemond stepped closer, his voice overlapping hers. “Those Maesters are doing their duty in making sure you are equipped to ride properly. You ought not to be going on saddleless joyrides with Uncle Daemon.” The Prince stared sharply, unyielding.

“Are you to tell on me?” The princess gritted her teeth.

A disenfranchised look came to Aemond’s face, he spoke more like a father scolding his daughter than a boy of her own age “Daemon is not fit to minding you. You are a Princess of the Relam, if anything were to happen-“

Princess Visenya’s eyes widened in both panic and fury, she could not have the precious time she spent with her father ruined by Aemond’s incessant need to dob. “But nothing did happen! If you dare speak a word of this I shall tell my brothers that I had caught you sobbing and sulking in the Dragonpits all by yourself… like a helpless, pathetic babe whining for its mother.” She interrupted.

“Do not dare.” He sneered, his gaze lowering.

“Swear you shall not tell.” Her voice raised, stern. Silence fell between the two as their gazes pierced into each other, they stood opposed in the darkened space. “Swear it.” Her tone sharp.

He said nothing, the silence lingered as he felt his strength faulter. “Fine.”

The two Targaryen’s did not speak again as they walked up out from the Pit’s entrance. Visenya’s eyes expanding in a deep trepidation as she was met with the folded arms of her mother, Rhaneyra’s face stern. “It may please you to know that you’ve had every guard and servant forced to abandon their duties so they may search for you.” Rhaneyra’s voice echoed at the carven entrance, her head tilted downwards as she gazed into the calculatedly soft eyes of her daughter.

“I had told you where I wished to go.” Visenya lowered her gaze in sweet self-admittance as her mother shook her head.

Rhaenyra spoke firmly to remind the young Princess her mother was indeed, well aware of her charmed tongue, often used to evade trouble. "And I had told you no more leisure trips to the Dragonpits without an escort.” Rhaneyra’s doubled down as the young Princess protested. “But mother- “

Rhaneyra’s tone softens as she steps forward, placing a hand upon her daughter's shoulder. “Visenya, I worry for you.”

Visenya turned her head, gesturing to the seemly meek Aemond which stood behind her “But I was not alone. Prince Aemond had accompanied me.” Visenya gave the young prince a narrowing gaze, subliminally signalling for him to nod; he did. The future Queen could not help but tilt her head, a small warmth in her chest as finally, it seemed there may be hope for some level of kinship between her own and Alicent’s children.

Rhaenyra regained focused once more, her voice almost lenient, “Aemond is but a year your prior and the King’s young son no less, tis not his duty to protect you. And while I am glad of the peace the two of you have forged...” Rhaenyra sighed softly, and shook her head a little, clearly unimpressed. “I will not have my only daughter risking her life to get to the Dragonpits, without a proper escort. The streets are most unpredictable, my girl.” She shuddered.

“I did not take the streets.” Visenya protested, a small smile upon her face as though the news would be pleasing to her.

Rhaenyra frowned, stepping forward to Aemond as her concern reignited as she gazed at them both, “You took the passages?" She leaned towards her daughter, her voice hushed so that her half-brother would not hear. "I ought to have the mind to bar you in your chambers until the moon turns!” Rhaneyra's tone hardened once more.

Visenya looked down, her gaze ruminating on the floor as her mother’s tone grew stern, there was a pause; she felt embarrassment coil within her, why must mother do this in front of him, she thought. Rhaenyra sighed as she noted her daughter’s meek demeanour she let her frustration dissipate, she did not dare scold her own child in front of her half-brother. Aemond noticed the tension ease between them, he remained still, his arms held behind his back as he watched Visenya. Satisfaction bloomed within him; he’d never seen her so… passive.

Rhaenyra yielded, her tone softening, “You must take an escort, sweet girl. I’ve little desire to strip you of your freedoms, so do not force me to do so.” Visenya looked up, her pale violet eyes meeting those of her mother, Rhaenyra placed a gentle hand upon her daughter’s head, stroking her silver hair.

Visenya gave a small and conceded, “Yes, mother…”

As the moment came to an end, Rhaneyra’s gaze came to the young green prince before her, Alicent’s son… her father’s son… her younger brother.

Aemond shuffled under his sister’s gaze, they had hardly ever spoken all he knew was that she bore bastards, that she was the King’s favoured child. Rhaenyra spoke again, clearing her throat. “Come, the both of you. I fear the Queen, has sent for your whereabouts, Aemond.”

With that, the three Targaryen's took to exit the Dragonpits, not another word was uttered.

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giorno-plays-piano · 10 months

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House of Chains

Part VII

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x mage!reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, obsession, canon-typical violence, chase, death of minor characters, some twisted hurt/comfort.

Words: 1.6k

Summary: In return for help to come back to your home world, you have been faithfully supporting the Greens to put Aegon on the throne. But when your promise is fulfilled, neither Otto nor Aemond are keen on letting you go.

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For a second, you debate if you are delirious from the interdimentional travel. He can't be here. Aemond is not a mage. Surely, it's your mind playing tricks on you for using too much of your power in the last couple of says.

But Aemond shifts, getting up from the tree trunk, and you make a step back instinctively, watching him like a dangerous predator that's ready to sink its teeth in you. He is here. He is real. And it means you know nothing about Aemond Targaryen who has tracked you down and followed you to the other realm, which shouldn't be even remotely possible for anyone but the Tower's magicians.

"You can't be here," you whisper, barely moving your lips, still clinging to a stupid hope that he's a mirage, an illusion made up by your inflamed brain.

Aemond curves his lips in a smile. "You left me no choice."

You forget how to breathe, feeling like a fish thrown ashore during a violent storm. The leather-clad man in front of you is no vision: he is of flesh and blood, leaving heavy footsteps on the sand as he walks over to you and you back down. How did he get here? Who might have taken him to the Tower? No sane magician would. It's a breach of a sacred law, and it results in the death of a mage in 10 cases out of 10. Besides, you would feel your brother- or sister-in-arms if they were that close to you in Westeros. Energy of a Tower mage is impossible to hide in a world that severely lacks magic.

Could it be a vagabond warlock? Some sort of ancient Westerosi ritual practiced by septons? No, no, both options are impossible, you are sure.

Then how?..

You realize you asked the question out loud only when Aemond starts to speak, "You've tried to get burned by Vhagar too many times. Did you truly think no one would spy on you?"

Confused, you cock your head to the side. Perhaps, in your stubborn attempts to get the goddamn dragon shoot flames at you, you have missed Aemond watching. But what's the purpose? How would it help him?

"And what of it?"

He smirks, all arrogance. "You've been doing it for so long I had the spell memorized. It was just a matter of time before we started teaching it to people."

"You- what?"

Suddenly, your hands grow cold. It seems like something you might have misheard. Or imagined, perhaps, delirious. Even the possibility of Aemond truly doing it makes you tremble like a cornered herbivore because it ruins everything.

No. He couldn't have. It is a long incantation, the one where you need to get every accent fall on the right syllable. One can't just memorize it like a simple phrase. Besides, how would Aemond even come to a conclusion that there are people capable of becoming magicians in Westeros in the first place?!

But he stands here, on the crossroads of the worlds, firmly, and you know a man like him would devour the Sun if he could.

"You told me once neither you nor your sworn sisters were from the same place as the world of Tower mages," he continues slowly, clearly prideful of wreaking complete havoc on your life. "And I thought that mages might come from all sorts of worlds. When you gave me an opportunity, I decided to put it to test."

He continues striding forward, forcing you to retreat further into the dead garden while you are unable to turn your back to him: it feels like he's going to pounce on you and eat you alive, the perfect predator. Even here, in a foreign realm, after an impossible interdimentional journey, Aemond looks like a prince, his attire immaculate, his long, milky hair out of his face, a sword hanging on his side as if he is planning to put it to use if you continue resisting. It might not be of Valyrian Steel, but it'll cut you in pieces all the same because you are spent, all magic wasted on the last incantation.

"I took 7 prisoners from the dungeons of the Red Keep and made them speak the words under Sunfyre's flames. 6 were burnt. The 7th, although he didn't magically transport himself to your world, strangely, he survived. I didn’t find a single scratch on him."

You still, your very heart sinking within you. A natural bearer of magic. A rare human being, but not the one impossible to find if you search hard enough. You are one yourself, and the mages of the Tower unceremoniously plucked you from your world when they stumbled upon you during their travels. Who could have thought Aemond, of all people, would find one.

There's not a meter between you two, your back is pressed against the tree, and it feels like there's nowhere left to run.

"I wondered why it didn't work perfectly, but then I remembered you've only ever wanted Vhagar's flames. Was the problem in Sunfyre? He is, of course, far inferior to the biggest and oldest dragon in the world."

Clenching the tree trunk behind you, you stare at the man, your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and all the stress you've been under, unable to eat, to think about anything but coming home, planning and scheming and threatening to get what you want. But, unlike you, Aemond looks fresh and well-rested, as if he finally slept the whole night long, his insomnia gone.

"Do you know what the 7th prisoner did after he disappeared in my dragon's flames?" Targaryen taunts, his lips nearly touching your ear. "He found the Tower and told your people who taught him the spell. Told them everything you've done for us, and that you decided to stay and get married to Westerosi prince."

Shivering, you plant your palms on his chest to push him away, but Aemond doesn't budge just as he hadn't that night back in the castle. Suddenly, he is a mountain, and you are the wind.

"They wouldn't-"

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Believe him? Do they need to? Even if they put him under a spell, they'd know how he got the magic words, and it's your fault. Now, what would be the punishment for such a severe crime?"

Not a sound comes from the ancient Babylonian garden filled with crooked black trees growing out of colorless sand as you stare back at Aemond Targaryen.

The penalty for sharing the incantation for traveling the realms is death upon arrival to the Tower.

Your tongue grows too heavy for you to say anything back to the prince. Tears fill your eyes, though, a silent answer to his question, and you gasp, struggling to breathe. Even if the spell was stolen, overhead, it is all the same to the magicians of the Tower of Babylon, which is why they all guard the words like a dragon its treasure chest The fact that you've been so careless would not be taken well, regardless of how much you plead innocence. And now, with Aemond being here, they would sense the arrival of one more stranger that is not supposed to be here... For all you know, you will either be banned from the Tower forever and forbidden to travel the dimensions, or you will die.

Out of all people, it is Aemond Targaryen who destroys you.

When he brings his hand to your face, he's unexpectedly gentle, wiping the tears rolling down your cheeks. "It took me some time to find a second prisoner who could withstand the fire, but I still found him. We came to your world together when you left me, and he is now delivering the same message to your masters. See now? It's fruitless. They wouldn't want you to come back."

Three people crossing the threshold to this realm. Three living threats. You are as good as dead to your found family, the proud mages of the Tower.

It's silly to ask a ruthless prince why, but you can't help yourself, a never-ending flow of tears wetting the collar of your robe beneath white cloaks's armor. "How could you do this to me?"

You have no strength left in you, so you just drop your arms, exhausted, and then Aemond takes your face in his hands, pressing his thin lips to your forehead.

It's awful, knowing he has never been planning to let you be free of him and his world, but the most horrible thing about it is that you still find some comfort in his tender touch, hungry for warmth.

It makes you sick, and yet you lean into him.

"Whatever you do, I will always take you back," he whispers gently, his hands caressing your head like you are a child. "Come home with me, and any of your crimes, past and future, will be pardoned."

He makes you bury your head in his chest, your body cold and numb.

"Whatever is mine, I will share with you. Whatever you want but I don't have, I will bring you," Aemond murmurs, planting more kisses on your forehead, your brows, and your eyelids while you cry your eyes out. "Break my heart if you must. Just come home. Come home with me."

As he lets you lean onto him, his palm on the back of your neck, you sob, cursing yourself for craving for the warmth of his touch. You know one thing: there is no other home left for you but his.

THE END

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Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild

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A big shout-out to everyone who supported this short series! Thank you so much!

#aemond x reader #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #the house of the dragon #yandere #ewan nation

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goodqueenaly · 2 months

Note

Do you think Gaemon Palehair really was Aegon II's bastard, or that at least Aegon III believed he was?

Maybe? On a purely practical level, at least, Gaemon being the son of the future King Aegon II does not seem impossible. Aegon the Elder was certainly living in King’s Landing at the time Gaemon was conceived, and if Gaemon’s mother was herself already living in King’s Landing (and there is no indication that she and Gaemon settled in King's Landing after the latter's birth), there was a possibility of the two meeting and conceiving a son. Even if Gaemon was not necessarily that “boy [Aegon fathered] on a girl whose maidenhood [Aegon] won at auction on the Street of Silk”, according to Mushroom’s gossipy report, this alleged patronage in the sex workers of King’s Landing on Aegon’s part may provide an explanation as to how Aegon the Elder could have fathered Gaemon. Gaemon’s pale hair, of course, could easily be read as an inheritance from his father or other Targaryen antecedents: while we don’t have full details on Aegon’s appearance, GRRM’s report that Aegon bore “a strong resemblance to his father” (who himself had a “silver-gold mustache”) certainly suggests that Aegon also had the pale hair common to Valyrian descendants. Too, it may be notable that unlike the would-be king Trystane Trufyre or the Shepherd, Gaemon was pardoned and made a ward of the crown - a rare act of mercy in the twilight of Aegon II’s reign which perhaps indicates some personal investment on the part of the king in Gaemon’s well-being.

At the same time, I would not say Gaemon being Aegon II’s son is a foregone conclusion. While we should certainly consider the fact that the information came under torture, Essie’s admission that Gaemon’s biological father was a Lysene oarsman is at least a possible explanation for both Gaemon’s existence and his pale hair. Likewise, we have no indication that Aegon II thought particularly fondly of the boy; indeed, unlike with Trystane (where it was Aegon himself who knighted the would-be squire king before the latter was executed), Aegon doesn’t seem to have interacted with Gaemon at all, and the passive voice used by Gyldayn to describe Gaemon’s pardon makes it impossible to tell who directed that decision. (Too, Borros Baratheon’s rough treatment of Gaemon at the time of his capture - “carried back to the Red Keep slung over the back of a horse, chained and weeping” - hardly suggests that he knew, or had been instructed to know, that he was dealing with a king’s son.) There is in fact some real-world historical precedent from which GRRM may be drawing for showing mercy on such a figure: when young Lambert Simnel, probably about 10 years old, was proclaimed “King Edward VI” as the figurehead of a failed Yorkist rebellion against King Henry VII, the first Tudor king showed the boy mercy, not only not executing him but actually giving him a position at court (first in the royal kitchens, and eventually as a court falconer). Nor do I read Aegon III’s affection for Gaemon as indicating some secret knowledge of the latter’s supposed royal lineage: not only would Aegon III himself have had no reason to know who Gaemon’s biological father was, but Gyldayn makes it pretty explicit that Aegon’s care for Gaemon came as a direct result of the young king’s sorrow over the (supposed) loss of his own younger brother, Viserys (and to that point, Gyldayn notes that after “Prince Viserys … became King Aegon’s constant companion” following his return, “Gaemon Palehair was cast aside and forgotten”).

Ultimately, I would say the answer doesn’t really matter, both because we’ll probably never get the objective truth on the matter and because the narrative does not really dwell on the question. Gyldayn merely refers to Gaemon as “supposedly a bastard of the missing King Aegon II” and later as a “bastard born of a whore” (and specifically used the last designation to explain why Gaemon “counted for little in the court”); there is, so far as we know, no investigation into Gaemon’s paternal origins, no allusions to his paternity (as compared to, say, Alyn Velaryon, where Willis Fell openly identified him as having “a snake for a sire”), no hints by anyone save his mother as to who might have fathered him. As GRRM himself once noted, “[w]ithout blood tests or DNA, establishing paternity was a lot more hit and miss”, and I think that’s probably the case with Gaemon. Young Gaemon's potential blood connection to Aegon II matters only in the sense that his mother seized upon it (or the idea of it) to present him as a king; if he might have otherwise grown up in obscurity as one of the many lowborn children of King’s Landing, Gaemon was instead, thanks to that claim, subjected to a roller coaster of pseudo-royalty, violent upheaval, courtly semi-protection, and ultimately horrific murder.

#asoiaf meta #gaemon palehair #aegon ii targaryen

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nebulablakemurphy · 2 years

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The Queen’s Hand

(Part VII: Birthright)

Summary: Y/N Targaryen is Princess of the seven realms. First born daughter of, Viserys I and Aemma Targaryen. Heir to the iron throne, forced to make impossible decisions to ensure peace amongst the land and the safety of those she holds most dear.

Warning: this chapter includes the birth of Rhaenyra’s daughter who unfortunately does not survive.

Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V | VI

“This is treason and you know it.” Aemmia snaps, her cheeks flush from tears. Her eyes burning with the fire of the dragon.

“I understand that you are upset.” Aemond attempts to gentle his wife, “but you must compose yourself. This is not good for the baby.”

“It is too soon to know if I’m with child!”

“Helaena told me so.”

Aemmia sighs, looking away. Some consider Helaena mad, but Aemmia knows better. Viserys knew things he could not, same as her mother.

“Rhaenyra is the rightful heir. I intend to uphold her claim.” She says, with fierce determination.

“Aemmia, please.” Aemond catches her face in his hand. “I will no longer argue the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s claim. But the fact remains, my mother and grandsire have set this chain of succession in motion. I cannot stop it. I cannot make Rhaenyra Queen anymore than I can raise my father from the dead. If we do not accept the crown it will pass to Aegon.”

“Aegon cannot be found.” Aemmia steps away from his hold.

“They’ve not been looking very hard.”

“Why not?”

“Because they do not wish to find him.” Aemond confesses. “This is best for everyone. You and I on the throne, the coronation will be peaceful.”

“Aemond, I will not betray my family. If we send for Rhaenyra-”

“If Rhaenyra becomes queen, she will kill my family.”

“Why do you believe this?” Aemmia wonders, have Otto’s lies poisoned him so? “My aunt is not vindictive or cruel. Now she may forbade you from speaking ill against her children, but she would not harm you.”

“Her children have done it before,” Aemond reminds her, “and even you spoke against me.”

“You called them bastards.”

“Are they not?” He challenges.

“They are Targaryens,” Aemmia corrects him, “same as you and I.”

“Hmm.”

“It was you who attacked them.”

“Attacked them? Four against one.” Aemond huffs. “Yet none of them maimed.”

“You tried to kill Jace.”

“I was trying to defend myself.”

“As Lucerys was defending his brother.” She dares him to argue.

“Say what you will, dear wife. But if it were me who harmed one of her children this way, my father would have removed my eye himself and presented it to Rhaenyra on a platter.”

Aemmia reels back at this, “I cannot say if that is true. You knew a much different man than I.”

“Because he loved you.” Aemond says simply. “A privilege I was not afforded.”

“I-”

“When all is said and done it matters not. With us on the throne, we can ensure the safety of your family and mine. You will have the power to unfuck this as you see fit. I cannot give all you ask of me, but I can make you Queen.” Aemond pauses, “Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Her brow furrows.

“I despised you for years. Feeding into jealousy, unable to understand my father’s devotion to your mother and Rhaenyra’s children over me, his own son. But as I’ve come to know you, I see it a bit differently. We are not so different, two sides of the same coin. I…feel for you.”

“And I for you,” Aemmia breathes.

“I do not know if it is love, but I have never felt it for anyone else. I do not wish your family dead, I do not wish you to suffer. Allow me to do this for you.”

-———————————🌱———————————

“Y/N!”

The sound of her sister’s distressed cry sends the Princess scurrying to Rhaenyra’s rooms.

“Rhaenyra,” Y/N murmurs. She is in a state of undress, suited only for the birthing bed. Bent forward at the waist, gripping the door frame which overlooks the balcony. It is far too soon for her labors. “You must sit.”

“We are past that now.” Rhaenyra tells her. “This is happening.”

Y/N looks to the maester. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“I am afraid not, Princess.”

Rhaenyra reaches for her, “I need you.” Her voice is choked with pain.

Y/N crosses the room. Taking her sister’s hand and fussing about her endlessly. “I’m so sorry, Rhaenyra. I failed you.”

“Often times I felt the world has failed me, but never you, sister. Never have you failed me.” Rhaenyra gasps, clutching her belly.

“Let me help.” Y/N says, moving to knead the small of Rhaenyra’s back.

Rhaenyra shakes her head. “Daemon wishes to move immediately for the throne. He’s gone to madness.”

It’s been all of half an hour since the news arrived by raven. Alicent and Otto plan to use their absence to usurp Rhaenyra, forcing her own niece to take the crown.

“I know Aemmia and I love her like my own. She would not supplant me of her own free will. Whatever game Alicent is playing, I do not wish her to be caught in the cross fire. If Daemon moves it will be a blood bath, you know it as well as I.” Rhaenyra forces the words out between contractions.

“Rhaenyra, what would you have me do?” There’s blood, too much blood.

“You are the one meant to advise me.” Rhaenyra attempts a jest. “I have sent Jacaerys, whatever claim remains to me it is now his. I don’t not want any decision made while I’m abed.”

“I will send Harwin to back him,” Y/N suggests, “be sure Daemon is respectful of your wishes.”

“Harwin is an asset, but he holds little authority in court. Daemon trusts you, he may listen if you speak.”

“I do not wish to leave you this way.” Y/N confesses.

Rhaenyra reaches back, catching her sister’s hand. “It’s as mother always said, this is our battle field. We must learn to face it with a stiff upper lip. I will be alright until you return.”

Y/N nods, perhaps it is silly to worry. Rhaenyra has five children, but this is different. Still the Princess raises her chin, facing the council room with grace.

Harwin looks…perturbed to say the least. Daemon must be eating Jace alive.

“Might I ask exactly what is still up for discussion when your Queen has willed you wait for her? I assume my nephew, Jacaerys, was very clear.”

The room is silent for a long moment.

“Princess,” Lord Corlys, barely recovered from his injury in battle for the Step Stones, nods down to her hands.

Y/N follows his gaze, her mind spiraling with a grief so intense she has not yet felt it. She swallows, composing herself. Wiping her hands down the front of her dress to clean them; staining the material in her sister’s blood. “We are not to make any decisions in the absence of Rhaenyra.”

“We must make preparations, Y/N. War does not stop for a laboring Queen, I’m afraid. You will be most useful at my wife’s side.” Daemon tries to reason. However harsh his words, he does love Rhaenyra and wants her cared for in his absence.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra cries. The awful sound of it echoing off the walls.

“Clearly you are the one she wants.” Y/N insists. “I will take over as head of this proceeding.”

“You would stand against your own daughter?”

“Wouldn’t it be best to first rally our allies?” Y/N ignores his question. “Assuming we know who still stands with us.”

Daemon looks down at Y/N’s hands again. “What of Aemmia?”

“Whatever my daughter hath done is in the name of this family, and our rightful queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen. Aemmia is strong. She would not be so easily won over by the Hightowers. She would however be smart enough to play their game,” Y/N looks him dead in the eye, “and win.”

Daemon’s jaw ticks, “come Jacaerys, I will teach you the true meaning of loyalty.”

———————————-🌱———————————-

“Let the seven bear witness! It was King Viserys’ dying wish, that his first born child, Y/N Targaryen’s daughter, Aemmia Targaryen-”

Aemond feels his wife’s fingers tighten around his, as if the name startled her. Aemmia Strong is no more, he squeezes back. You’re alright.

“And his true born son, Aemond Targaryen, should succeed him. It is your great fortune and honor to witness this today. A new King and Queen to guide our city.”

Aemmia is grateful when she is asked to kneel to the High Septon, for fear she may faint. Her knees hit the top stair harder than strictly necessary. She can’t go through with this.

‘But, there is new hope. With Aemmia and Aemond’s union, our houses might stand together once more.’

Her grandsire’s words ring in her ears. This will not unite them. It will break any bonds that hold them. I cannot do it.

“May the warrior give them courage.”

I miss you, grandsire.

“May the smith lend strength to their sword and shield.”

I’m sorry, Rhaenyra.

“May the father defend them in their need.”

I need you, father.

“May the crone lift her shining lamp and guide their way to wisdom.”

Forgive me, mother.

With that the High Septon is finished.

“Crown of Viserys, the peaceful. Passed down to the next generation.”

Aemmia’s head is light, the metal of her grandsire’s crown too cool against her skin. Even it knows, it does not belong.

‘Tonight I want you to see me as I am.’

If only he were here. Her grandsire did not wish this. He would never let it happen.

“The crown of the conqueror, passed down through generations.” Criston Cole crowns Aemond next. A clear sense of accomplishment about him.

As if this has not been cruel enough, they are now expected to stand. Aemmia hopes no one will notice the wobble in her stance. Turning out to face the masses.

Aemond presses a kiss to her temple. Tis done. Drawing his sword, he kneels, presenting the blade for her to wield. He looks up at her, “my Queen.”

Aemmia takes the hilt carefully. Lifting it from his outstretched hand to the sky.

“All hail, her grace.” The Septon announces, though confused by the lack of ceremony. “Aemmia Targaryen, first of her name. Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm. Aemmia the Queen!”

The applause starts slow, but is ever building. Aemond stands beside her proudly now, she has done her part. Her hand gone limp in his, eyes glossed over, she has checked out. Though no one but he is the wiser.

Only the explosion from the entrance and rubble flying in all directions pulls her from it. There is a dragon, she can make out the shape of someone on it’s saddle, but she cannot say who.

As the dust settles, Aemmia spots Rhaenys; Rhaenys sees her. Their eyes locked as Meleys rears back. Aemmia’s fingers curl around Aemond’s outstretched forearm. Though his body would do little to shield her, it is the only protection he has to offer.

The roar that sounds will live forever in her mind, no fire joins it. This is not and execution, it’s a warning.

———————————-🌱———————————-

“Ahhh!” Rhaenyra’s head falls forward in defeat.

“Good,” Y/N says, “very good. You’re nearly there.”

“Princess,” one of Rhaenyra’s maids calls, “you should not do this alone. Let us help you.”

Rhaenyra says nothing, bearing down against the pressure in her abdomen.

“Once more,” Y/N encourages, prepared to catch the babe.

Syrax cries out in distress as Rhaenyra brings her sixth child into the world.

The infant, a girl, perfect and beautiful. Completely still. She is small, but appears healthy though she does not cry. Y/N turns the baby over, rubbing at her back. “Come on, little one.”

Rhaenyra looks to her sister.

“We must have the maester!”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra shakes her head. “Give her here.”

“She will be alright.”

Rhaenyra leans her forehead to her sister’s. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Y/N slides the baby into Rhaenyra’s arms.

“I should like to be alone now.”

“I cannot leave you.” Not like this, she shouldn’t be alone.

“Even you cannot shield me from this. I have lost a child, I must grieve.”

It isn’t fair. Y/N forces herself to her feet. Covered in blood and the aftermath of a newborn babe. Holding her composure out the door, down the hall. But the tears come, hot and unbidden. Scorching her cheeks.

She tears at the strings of her gown as she walks, letting it pool at her feet then stepping over it. Shedding it the way a snake might shed it’s skin. She is different now, forever changed.

“My darling.” Harwin greets her just beyond the door of their guest chambers.

“I-” Y/N puts a hand up between them. “I cannot be comforted.”

Harwin holds his stance, not moving toward her. “You must have a bath.”

Y/N shakes her head. “There is a war to be fought.”

“In your dressing gown?”

“I do not have armor.”

“We will get you some, when the time comes.”

“Do not coddle me.”

“I apologize, that was not my intent. I only want to be sure you’ve thought this out.”

“Thought it out?” Y/N forms her mouth slowly around each word. “The Hightowers have held our daughter against her will and forced her to commit high treason. The repercussions of which sent Rhaenyra into such a state of distress that she has lost her child.”

“Viserys would have wanted-”

“My father is not here! He’s gone. Dead.” The word burns it’s way from her throat. “He left me and he’s never coming back.”

“Y/N,” Harwin runs a hand over his face.

“If my father were alive, he would open the floodgates and rain hellfire upon them.”

“Look at me.” Harwin crosses the room, taking her face in hand.

“She’s all I have left of my mother.” Y/N shoves him away. “All I have left of him. I cannot lose Rhaenyra. I will protect her at any cost and no one will take her from me!”

“My love, you are not yourself.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Y/N insists. “This is who I am, Harwin. This is who I’ve always been.”

“I have known you some thirty eight years, married to you for over twenty of them. I know who you are, Y/N Targaryen. I know you and I love you. Therefore I will be the first to tell you when you are making a mistake.”

“That is the problem, Harwin.” Her chest heaves with the weight of it. “I’ve changed, I am different.”

“Push me away and reel me in as you wish, but I will not abandon you. When you die it will be with my slain body at your feet, my sword and shield in your hand. If this is the war we are fighting I will stand at your side. I am not your enemy. I’m only asking to weigh our options.”

Her defenses dissipate. “Your patience and understanding touches me deeply. I do apologize for taking my frustrations out on you, it will not happen again.”

Harwin softens at this, “you need not apologize for being human.”

“I do not see a way back from this.” Y/N admits. “They have gone too far.” She puts a hand to her aching heart.

———————————-🌱———————————-

It has been three days. Three days since the coronation. Aemmia has just changed into her nightgown when she hears rustling from the adjoining room of her apartment.

Aemond.

“Come to celebrate?” Aemmia shakes her head. “I am exhausted from the day’s affairs. I wish to sleep.”

Silence.

“Aemond?” Aemmia turns to farther investigate. There is someone there, a man. His hood draw up, covering the top portion of his face. “Show yourself.”

The cloak is pulled back, Aemmia squints into the dimly lit corner. He reminds her of someone…someone she used to know. But it couldn’t possibly be, “Laenor?” Now she is seeing ghosts.

The man takes a step toward her. “Ser Lynis will do.”

“It was you? All these years, the one my mother was writing from the Step Stones.”

He nods.

“Does she know you’re here?”

“Your mother wanted to come herself, badly.” Laenor explains, “but I had a better chance of getting through the passage ways into the castle than she did.”

“Are you…staying?” Say yes. “Or perhaps I could come with you?” Please.

“Not just yet. But we do not want you to think yourself forgotten. Your family will not abandon you here, Aemmia.”

“In all these years I have not forgotten you. It is so good to see you again, Uncle.”

Laenor opens his arms to her, “come.”

Aemmia runs, all but jumping into the familiar hold of the man who would put her up on his shoulders as a child. “Will you tell her- tell my mother I did not want this.”

“She knows.” Laenor assures her.

“And the crown,” Aemmia makes a run for it, “my grandsire would want Rhaenyra to have it. Our true Queen.”

Laenor wraps his hand around it, tucking it safely into his satchel. “Well done, sweetheart. You’ve made us all proud.”

“Will I see you again?” Aemmia asks.

“When the time is right.”

Part VIII

Taglist @evyiione @giulia2372 @bubblebuttwade @hotd-fanfic @leoramage @hyperfiaxed-freak @chonisbestmistake @poemfreak306

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darkestspring · 1 year

Text

masterlist pt1

yandere targaryens pt1 pt2 pt3 love is the death of duty

to have and to hold randyll tarly i

daeron i maegor i ii iii iv v

aegon the conquerer i ii iii iv v too well entangled in my soul

second time is the charm pt1 pt1.5 pt2 pt3 A, C, U with aegon

E and Y with aegon J, K, and X with aegon

T and S with maegor E,M, and Y with daemon

A, C, Q, and Z with alicent A, E, and I with aemond

J with aemond E with aemond and aegon

D, E, and F with jaehaerys and baelon I with jace

E, J, K, and L with alicent I and L with aegon

A with aegon L with jace

aemond i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi

Q and Y with aegon and otto

H, N, P, and Z with maegor and daemon H, W, and S with aegon

yandad criston + yanmom rhaenyra babytrapping martell darling

the blacks+greens' darling gives birth to triplets C, D, F with aegon

aegon ii i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi xvii

daemon & rhea royce's daughter

B, G, and M with aegon alicent's daughter marrying jace

jace i ii iii iv v vi vii baelon ii i ii iii iv v vi vii

#masterlist #i have to split this into parts due to tumblr

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lilap20 · 3 months

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Chapter VII: The letter from King's Landing Part.1

@koobratzy

@beebeechaos

New chapter released, hope you like it

In the year 110, two news hit the Kingdom Princess Nymeria, Lady of Winterfell was expecting her first born. He would be the heir to Winterfell. The second, Prince Daemon Targaryen was finally the father of two magnificent young daughters, Princesses Beala in honor of Prince Baelon, and Rheana in honor of Princess Rhaenyra. However, the Kingdom was also holding its breath, although the King's second daughter had fulfilled her duty, the heir to the throne had not yet given birth to a child, two years after her marriage. Rhaenyra: 21 years old Nymeria: 19 years old

Adult image of Nymeria image below (she is inspired by Queen Rhaenys second wife of King Aegon the Conqueror)

-Husband, your men are waiting for you.

A smile trails across my face, Cregan's is against my abdomen, gently caressing the skin of my stomach. The bump that he keeps kissing and petting is not very round but visible enough for the news to reach Port Réal without my consent. I knew the Queen had left a spy, I hadn't found him yet but it wouldn't be long.

-Port Réal has been informed, I swear while stroking his hair, I wonder how.

Cregan only responds with a grunt, rubbing his beard against my stomach triggering my laughter. Three moons ago the Maester confirmed my pregnancy, Cregan's joy exceeded my expectations, he continued to cuddle and caress my belly, also allowing me to rest as long as I can.

-You should stay and rest today. Cregan hums against my stomach

I gently push him away laughing at his frustrated moan before standing up pulling the sheet over my body. With a smirk he pulls twice on the furry sheet which warms us and throws himself on me once my bare chest is revealed.

-Cregan, that’s enough! I burst out laughing when he climbs on top of me

My laughter chokes in my throat as he eagerly sucks on my nipple, my throat tensing as he smiles at his handiwork. The servants are likely to blush at this big mark which surrounds my halo.

-Proud of your work? I ask, stroking his hair.

His mischievous look is brilliant when he shows it to me and his smile is sly. He raises his chest towards mine so that our noses brush and our smiles synchronize.

-More than proud, you will make some people blush with this mark. Laughs Cregan

-Oh husband, don't you know that this can embarrass your wife? I reply, rolling my eyes.

-You are a married woman, he replies, kissing my forehead, and you are also pregnant. It's completely normal that you are marked.

I roll my eyes again and he punishes me by biting my chin and I burst out laughing as i pushes him away. Winterfell is slowly waking up, the sun shining on our skin. It won't be long before Cregan will have to get up to get ready for the day and so will I.

-Talyssa will come pick me up soon.

My voice is calm and well rested and Cregan sighs at my determination; he knows he can't stop me because I won't allow it. He kisses me one last time pressing my lips sensually trying one last time to make me give in. But I resist, a hand on the back of his neck, I kiss him gently before slowly removing my lips, a smile sliding across my face.

-I can never refuse you, woman, and that’s dangerous.

-You can refuse me certain things, but you don't want to. I reply smiling

Before he even answers a sound on the door takes us out of our bubble, it's time for Cregan to leave. He sighs before going down to kiss my stomach several times giving me butterflies in my lower stomach.

-Goodbye little puppy, take care of your mother, please, his gaze rises to mine, don’t tire her too much.

I blush furiously when he kisses my lower stomach, he knows exactly the effect he has on me so when he gets up he is more smiling than ever.

-It’s probably a little dragon. I reply as he puts on a coat to head towards the baths.

-It’s a little puppy, princess. He smiled as he closed the door.

I sigh with a smirk getting out of bed to put on my nightgown, the purple stain on my nipple is very present, thanks to Cregan, and the ones on my stomach and my collarbone have not yet faded. Poor servants, and poor me when Talyssa sees it.

-Three, two, one. I count with my fingers

-Stand up my Lady!

-Talyssa. I smile as the door opens

My best friend walks into the room, her hair growing long with each year with perfect red, her big light-colored eyes greet me and her smile is more and more beautiful.

-How is my little princess? Talyssa smiled as she walked towards me

Behind her, the servants bring hot bath water and towels to the back room. Talyssa hugs me and I do the same, smiling while kissing her cheek.

-How are you ? And the baby?

-We are fine, I caress my stomach, everything is calm for now.

-Praise the Gods. Okay, it's time to take your bath.

The cool wind blows across Winterfell Town, beside me Talyssa and a few ladies of the chambers look at the gray landscape of the day. The day had started so well, with beautiful sunshine, but the clouds quickly came to cover the sky bringing the North wind with them.

I tighten my blue cape a little around me while everyone's eyes are on us. Some greet me warmly, others look at me with a distant eye. This is probably because today I am not wearing the colors of my House but those of my mother, the Arryns. My blue dress with the gold handle doesn't fit into the Stark color frames at all, but on this day, I wanted to wear my mother's colors.

-My Lady, calls out a lady of the chamber, this store sells beautiful fabric for baby clothes.

-Thank you Palma.

I offer her a sweet smile before entering the store, the agitation fades a little and again looks fall on me, sideways glances, smiles and grimaces. I smile respectfully collecting greetings with a smile when I feel a hand pulling my dress.

-My Lady Stark. Call a little voice

I squat down under Talyssa's protests, my body is a little sore and the feeling of my little stomach bending a little, despite this I smile at the little girl in front of me.

-Hello little pumpkin, what’s your name?

The little girl blushed at the nickname I gave her then smiled with all her teeth and red cheekbones.

-My name is Marah my Lady. I wanted to tell you that you are very beautiful, a real Princess. Your hair and eyes are so beautiful.

Her hands quiver with the urge to stroke my hair, I allow her and she caresses with a hesitant fingertip before sighing at their softness.

-So ? How do you find them? I ask with a big smile

Her eyes light up as she responds with fists clenched in excitement.

-They are soft like Princess wool!

I laughed happily as I got up, my maids and Talyssa surrounding me to support me in case I fell. I stroke the brown hair of the little girl who runs in her mother's skirts as she smiles at me.

-She is so cute. I whisper, stroking the bump on my stomach

Talyssa follows my movement and smiles while nodding her head, she is impatiently waiting for this child just like me, I know that he will be pampered by her and she will be completely under his spell.

As I look at the fabrics betting on a boy while my best friend is desperate for a girl, a guard enters the store heading towards us.

After quickly bowing, I found a letter rolled up and sealed with the red and black Targaryen sign. I quickly look at Talyssa before thanking the guard and walking out with him, leaving my companions in the store.

Once outside, I break the seal to read the message, and my hands tremble, it is an official decree, written by the Hand of the King itself. Almost panicked, I sent the guard to look for my companions, as he passed the door I was already striding towards the castle under the questioning gaze of the inhabitants.

-This letter must be important for you to start the journey without us, growls Talyssa, on your two foot and pregnant! almost screamed Talyssa

I roll my eyes at her comment, my head being completely elsewhere, I rub my stomach thinking about the letter I read. My anxiety only increases and as soon as the carriage stops I don't wait for it to be opened and I quickly get out, lifting my dress to walk faster.

-Nymeria! Screamed Talyssa

I don't listen to her and rush into the castle, I apologize when I push certain people, my steps speeding up as I advance towards the main room of the castle.

Thank God, the room is empty, Cregan and his Maester putting away the papers to head towards his apartments, I move forward, slowing down a little, observing him with my heart swelling with love, if time was not running out I would have stopped to contemplate it. But unfortunately my steps alert the Maester and he bows when he sees me.

-Lady Stark. He bowed slightly

Cregan turns to me, a smile tugging at his lips as he excuses himself to the Maester to come down and see me. He unlocks this habit of stroking my belly as soon as he is in my presence with this proud little smile on his face.

-How are my wife and my little puppy? he asks and I can't answer trying to catch my breath

He realizes this and when his gaze finds my face, worry immediately appears there.

-Nymeria, he says worriedly, you are all red. He places his hand on my cheek, What happened? You feel bad ?

-No, no, I answer placing a hand on his which covers my stomach, I walked before the carriage then I almost ran towards the room and…

-By the Gods, breathe Nymeria, and how did you walk in front of the carriage? Cregan asks bemusedly

-May the Gods keep us. Whisper the Maester

-Everything is fine, I am fine, only I received a crow from Port Réal.

My voice still trembles from the effort and Cregan's gaze darkens slightly when I hand him the letter in my hands. Silence falls on the room and the Maester slowly descends to approach us, still leaving some distance between us.

-We are expected at the Red Keep for an update on the succession. What does that mean ? Whisper Cregan

My gaze meets that of the Maester and he bows, subsequently leaving the room, no doubt informing the people on his way not to disturb us. Once out and the doors are closed I catch my breath completely ready to respond.

-I don't know what that means, but I don't feel it. Everything that concerns the succession and the throne makes me nauseous. I respond by playing with my rings

-But our presence is requested within a fairly tight deadline Nymeria, remarks Cregan, it will be impossible to make the trip so quickly by boat.

-On the back of Dragon we will be there quickly, and he turns pale, but my anxiety is not focused on the delay, but on what will happen. Does he count, I lower my voice, do you think, I swallow, do you think he will change the succession?

My worry is evident in my voice, and Cregan tries to reassure me by stroking my stomach and my arm. I can't imagine my half-brother on the throne, Rhaenyra is built for the role, but Aegon is a spoiled brat and completely overwhelmed, him on the throne is unthinkable.

-My princess, Cregan whispers, taking me in his arms, everything will be fine, okay. We will see what they expect from us.

-Your father swearing for Rhaenyra, imagine mine asking you to swear for Aegon?

Cregan tenses against me, his hand stroking my hair and stopping emitting pressure on the back of my neck.

-Princess, look at me. Cregan whispers, catching my eye, Whatever happens over there, I'm sure your father won't disown you. He says

I nod slowly, his hands encircle my face and his lips touch mine with respect and love. I respond to his kiss with my hands on his.

-We will leave on Dragon's back, I inform him, hugging him, our luggage will be with him.

-I don't know if I like the idea. Sighs Cregan making us dance

-If Nightmares was going to eat you, she would have already done so. I laugh at him

-Without a doubt. Responds Cregan still hesitant

My Lord, on the back of a Dragon you say?

The Maester who examines me in our bedroom remains stunned by the speech of Cregan who holds my hand.

-Yes, we will not stay more than 3 nights in Port Réal, so you will be my representative with my sister Sara. Continue Cregan looking at him

Feeling my stomach one last time, the Maester gets up, reassuring me with a smile as he walks towards his tray.

-Well, I must say that this is the first time that a Lord of the North has ridden a Dragon.

-A start to everything, isn’t it, Maester Gideon. I respond a little teasingly

-No doubt my Lady. Responds the Maester bowing with a little smile, I have prepared a strengthening tea for you for your trip Princess, as far as the baby and you are concerned, everything is going well. Be sure.

-Thank you Maester Gideon, rest assured, I will take care of your Lord, he will not fall.

-I hope so. Cregan responds dramatically, getting up to accompany the Maester

Once he closes the door he helps me up, handing me the tea so I can drink it, I wince as I smell it.

-Are you sure it’s not poison? I ask, grimacing at the taste.

Cregan bursts out into a hoarse laugh clutching his chest.

-If it was poison you wouldn't have said that, poison is attractive and has no scent.

-Do you know anything about it? I ask a mocking smile on my lips

-No, he sits next to me on the bed, but there must be a reason why it's so easy for targets to fall in.

His thinking is quite logical so I end up buying the filthy tea. Our trip to Port Réal is in the final stages of preparation, we will leave tomorrow morning and I am excited to see my dear sister again. Coming back to King's Landing, on the other hand, doesn't excite me that much, the noise and the smell of the capital, the presence of the court in the Keep, the rumors and the looks, are very different from the North and Winterfell. Here, people are not adorned with gold and expensive jewelry, everything is quite simple, the smell of animals, fresh wind and pine trees, the sounds in the courtyards outside and Winterfell Town is much nicer than the capital .

It took me a while to get used to Winterfell, to how it works, I dress more simply and above all more warmly, my dresses with fine fabrics are in my wardrobe, not seeing the light of day because the weather is not is never warm enough to wear them. I will be able to dig them out of my wardrobe for the trip to King's Landing, although I have dresses waiting for me at the Dungeon.

-What are you thinking about ? my husband asks while caressing my belly

-To our trip, the capital and all its problems, to my sister and the Queen. My head thinks too much. I respond by handing him the cup

Nodding, he placed it on the small table, sitting on the bed to pick me up. Surprised, I let out a little cry before holding on to him once I sat against his hips. His two hands come to encircle my stomach and his lips come to kiss my forehead.

-I have the feeling that this trip will not be catastrophic, woman, Cregan replies, his eyes fixed on my stomach, thinking too much will not do you any good.

I roll my eyes which catches his attention, he pinches my chin to scold me and I try to pull away from him, but his grip is too strong.

I risk missing my fencing lessons if I leave for a long time. I argue with a hand on his shoulder

-Did you plan to continue classes, asks Cregan in amazement, despite your situation?

It is true that with my pregnancy continuing the fencing lessons would have been difficult, but I planned to make the most of it before having to stop.

-You still think. Accused Cregan

-I can't stop thinking, it's human.

-I thought the Targaryens were closer to the Gods than to humans. Cregan responds with a smirk on his lips.

-Well our thoughts are the only things that keep us grounded. I respond by pushing him away, a smile emerging

Finally he releases me from his arms following me towards our trunks which the servants finish preparing.

-You can put back on all your Southern dresses that your family sent you. Cregan's voice vibrates the walls

-I'm pretty happy my belly won't stretch the fabric too much.

Automatically Cregan runs a hand over my stomach attracting the attention of eyes in the room. The servants smile among themselves while I scold Cregan who wears his proud smile.

-Lord Stark?

We both turn around when a guard calls out to Cregan, his face takes on a serious crease on his face, he kisses my forehead one last time before leaving the room. I watch him leave the room, looking at the room where the bags close showing that the trip is coming soon. And my questions and anxiety continue to grow.

It’s departure day and everyone is running to surround us as Cregan and I head outside. Sara is jumping around holding my arm, she loves watching Nightmares so much that she can't sit still since she found out that her brother will be traveling on my dragon.

-I'm so excited, Sara whispers in my ear

-Ah yes, I laugh, your brother is sweating all over because he is so scared.

-I do not care, laughs Sara

-I hear you, Cregan growls making us laugh, and I'm not afraid. He defend himself with gritted teeth

-Of course husband, I'm starting out sneaky, you're just terrified.

Sara bursts out laughing followed by me while Cregan speaks under his breath, finally we arrive outside and I smile as I see the residents gathering in the courtyard. Everyone bows their heads when they see us, the Maester of the House and the stewards, the soldiers in line bow waiting for Cregan's orders.

With a wave of his hand, Cregan asks them to get up and they all do so.

-In the absence of the Lady of Winterfell and myself, my sister Sara will take care of Winterfell. Orders Cregan in a loud voice

I can't stop hearing him give orders, my body vibrates every time. I turn to Sara smiling, taking her hands in mine before hugging her tightly, she holds me forcefully in her arms, before breaking away from me to jump on her brother.

Once the farewells are done, Cregan and I head to my dragon, sealed since the cockcrow, Nightmares eagerly awaits us near his cave in the Northern Garden. Seeing me, Nightmares immediately roared, shaking its long, spiny neck and flapping its wings.

Cregan stops short, refusing to take another step, I take his hand with a smiling face and happy to be able to go up, my husband tenses at my side, his eyes fixed on my dragon with white-gray scales, his gaze is worried and I can't help but laugh at this.

-Stop laughing woman, scolds Cregan, I didn't make fun of you when you met my Werewolf.

Offended by his lie, I turn to him to tap him on the shoulder, which earns him a grunt.

-You are a liar my Lord husband, I was cold and livid in front of the beast and you played on my fate throughout the meeting, laughing and making fun of me in the evening in our room.

Cregan furrows his eyebrows but can't help the mocking smile that stretches his cheeks and deepens his dimples. Seeing that he is still laughing at me I decide to abandon him to head towards my dragon, he immediately panics.

-Nymeria!

-Stay there, I’m coming!

I stand in front of Nightmares, his crystal gaze holding mine, excited to see me, the dragon growls, his pupils dilating before nudging me with his snout. I can't help but giggle when he runs his nose over my barely round stomach again, probably sensing a being who didn't own my body before.

-It’s mine, I explain to Nightmares, my husband and I are expecting a baby, you know Cregan.

I jerk my thumb at Cregan behind a mocking smile and my dragon lifts its head to look at him before giving me its attention.

-He's going to travel with us today, I'm stroking his crest, we shouldn't eat him, okay?

I laugh at Nightmares' incomprehension which makes the dragon growl, while passing my hand along his neck I move towards the seal ready to mount on his back. My dragon lowers itself to the ground, allowing me to lean on its strong wings to mount my seal and position myself properly.

Barely seated, the dragon roars, unfolding its wings, raising dust from the ground and strongly fanning Cregan who is ready to flee towards the castle. I'm struggling to control Nightmares when he rushes towards Cregan with great strides, my husband standing still waiting for death.

To his great astonishment, Nightmares stops in front of him, looking into his gaze, his fangs bared and growling menacingly. I gently pet my Dragon who is trying to intimidate Cregan, showing him that he lays down the law when he rides on his back.

-Caress him, I encourage and Cregan looks at me as if I have reached madness.

Hesitating and never taking his eyes off Nightmares, Cregan removes his glove and approaches his hand to my dragon, his entire body shudders under the power of Nightmares' hot breath, and his eyes widen when he finally caresses its scales. Cregan's breathing calms as he performs the second stroke, his mouth slightly open as Nightmares hisses happily as Cregan massages his neck.

-He is, Cregan searches for words, warm.

I laugh from atop my dragon, reaching out for my husband to join me.

-He's kind and adorable, but he likes speed, and yes, he's warm.

Cregan smiles at me a little more confidently now that he sees how Nightmares reacts to his caresses, grabbing my hand he manages to lean to climb behind me on the seat placed on the dragon's back. His entire body tenses as Nightmares roars as he stands on two legs, his wings unfurl in the air and dust rises from the ground.

I let out a cry of joy when I feel my dragon running towards the end of the cliff, Nightmares' footsteps make the ground shake, his cry of happiness scares the surrounding animals, Cregan holds firmly to me, probably closing his eyes when we finally arrive at the end of the cliff.

My dragon's wings unfold and its legs fold, the cool wind hits my skin and my hairs stand up as we fall and then glide through the air. Cregan's hands grip my waist so tightly that I laugh, asking him to open his eyes to admire the view.

-Cregan, you won't be able to stay with your eyes closed forever, the landscape is so beautiful. I mock while clinging to Nightmares

-Nymeria…

-Trust me husband. I insist

I don't know when he opened them, but his breathing has eased in my neck and a "wow" escapes from him, he is definitely looking at the landscape enjoying the view around.

-That's wonderful. Cregan marvels

A radiant smile appears on my face upon hearing it, and I quickly pet my dragon which picks up speed, heading towards King's Landing.

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dyannawynnedayne · 27 days

Text

Which character parallel is your favorite?

Theon and Sansa: art by @sleazyjanet (1,2)

Propaganda is encouraged!

Theon and Sansa

Remember Your Name

“You will pretend to be a prince,” Lord Ramsay told him last night, as Reek was soaking in a tub of scalding water, “but we know the truth. You’re Reek. You’ll always be Reek, no matter how sweet you smell. Your nose may lie to you. Remember your name. Remember who you are.”

ADWD, Reek II

You are Alayne, and you must be Alayne all the time.” He put two fingers on her left breast. “Even here. In your heart. Can you do that? Can you be my daughter in your heart?” “I …” I do not know, my lord, she almost said, but that was not what he wanted to hear. Lies and Arbor gold, she thought. “I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?”

AFFC, Sansa I

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Quentyn and Young Griff

Prince In Hiding

“Prince Doran.” He sank back onto one knee. “Your Grace, I have the honor to be Quentyn Martell, a prince of Dorne and your most leal subject.” Dany laughed. The Dornish prince flushed red, whilst her own court and counselors gave her puzzled looks. “Radiance?” said Skahaz Shavepate, in the Ghiscari tongue. “Why do you laugh?” “They call him frog,” she said, “and we have just learned why. In the Seven Kingdoms there are children’s tales of frogs who turn into enchanted princes when kissed by their true love.” Smiling at the Dornish knights, she switched back to the Common Tongue. “Tell me, Prince Quentyn, are you enchanted?”

ADWD, Dany VII

That time was done, though. “No man could have asked for a worthier son,” Griff said, “but the lad is not of my blood, and his name is not Griff. My lords, I give you Aegon Targaryen, firstborn son of Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone, by Princess Elia of Dorne … soon, with your help, to be Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, King of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”

ADWD, The Lost Lord

#fave parallel poll #round one #group d

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floatyflowers · 2 years

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The Adopted Princess| Dark! Targaryen and Velaryon Boys x Reader (Aegon II, Aemond, Jacaerys, Lucerys) VIII

Part VII

You look down at the floor, as the queen stands in front of you with sympathy painted on her face at your condition.

Aemond has locked you up for two days, preventing you from seeing your daughter, you were only allowed food and water.

Alicent came to tell you that the king is dead and that you have to swear loyalty to the new king, Aegon.

"That's not his birthright" you state bluntly, finally looking at your good-mother.

"That's what the king has wished for before passing away, he was the prince that was promised"

Hearing those words made you frown...your grandfather must have mistaken Alicent for Rhaenyra, there is no way, Aegon is that prince.

"Your highness, you and I and everyone know that Aegon is unfit to rule, he is drunk, he is-"

The queen cuts you off, by grabbing both of your hands into hers.

"If your father was here, he would have fully supported me, he would have wanted the male heir, to be a king"

You try to pull your hands away, but Alicent keeps holding onto them, refusing to remove her eyes away from you.

"I know that Aegon has tried molesting you but failed, and you did not tell anyone about it" you gulp, shivering at the memory.

"That is what I admire about you, you do your duty for your family so well" you stay silent, letting her continue.

"And I know that you will do everything in your power to please your husband as Aemond does the same"

You wanted to chuckle, Aemond locked you up just for his unbearing jealousy.

"Is it a husband's duty to lock me up in here?" You ask, your tone hinting at sarcasm.

"This is a misunderstanding, I will make sure that he doesn't do that again...you are just like Helaena to me, (Y/n)"

You stay silent for a minute, before finally smiling at Alicent.

"Alright, I will get ready for Aegon's Coronation my queen, I will wear the finest of dresses too"

"Just like your father, you support me" Alicent kisses your forehead, before pulling away from you with a smile on her face.

"I will leave you to get ready"

The moment Alicent walks out the doors, and the doors are closed is the moment you rush to your closet and open it.

To search for your dagger and cloak.

You won't allow your daughter to be raised in such a toxic and manipulative environment.

And most importantly, you will never betray the woman who has raised you and stayed up the nights when you got sick to make sure you are alright.

You are not that type of person.

꧁𖣔꧂

Rhaenys stares at you as you do the same, while the both of you stand in the dragon pit, both of you already on your dragons while Daenerys lays attached to your chest.

"I didn't expect you to do this" the Queen who never was, spoke with a small smile.

"Then you do not know me well, Princess Rhaenys," you say, grinning.

"You dragon grew quickly for being only six years old" she points out.

Indeed your dragon is big, you wonder what size will Quicksilver will be in the upcoming years.

"You do know the aftermath of your actions, right?" you chuckle at the question.

"No man in the seven kingdoms scares me, not even my dear husband"

꧁𖣔꧂

You and Rhaenys intruppet the coronation ceremony with your dragons.

Aemond and Aegon stare at you with wide eyes, not expecting such a betrayal to happen, they thought you will be dutiful.

Alicent is quick to stand in front of Aegon protectively to defend him from any upcoming attack.

But, Meleys lets out a roar, a roar that declares war.

Surprisingly, the roar didn't scare your daughter, yet, it scared Alicent and Otto, knowing very well what it meant.

Aemond glares at you, his glare only made you smirk.

While you give him a stare that screams 'I'm free, and you can't do anything about it'

With that, you and Rhaenys fly off, leaving behind the overwhelming threat.

Taglist:

@hnybitches

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #tw: toxic relationships #lucerys velaryon x reader #possessive #wife reader #yandere house of the dragon

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bl00dlight · 4 days

Text

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Word Count ~ 3.5k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi ● vii ● viii ● ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

vii ~ 'Lord of the Tides'

129 AC

VISENYA - DRAGONSTONE

The sky above was grey, as it always was upon Dragonstone. The air thick and cloying, the inescapable stench of salt, smoke and brimstone filled the lungs of all who dared cross upon its stormy threshold. It was always warm here, clammy - even when it rained.

I oft found solace, riding high over the plains of ashen volcanic rock. The sulphuric steam stinging my skin as I let my dragon take me high upon Dragonmount. There I let myself venture upon its edges, discarding my boots and feeling the jagged stone beneath my feet. I enjoy feeling how it cuts and presses into my skin, sometimes I leave bloodied and limping. Though it feels good, feels righteous to have my blood dried upon its rocks, ritualistic. Just as I claimed Silverwing, I shall claim this island as my own one day.

I watch as Silverwing scurries into the large cavern etched into the side of the mountain. She oft goes there, for that is why Vermithor can be found lazing. It is a strange sight, seeing two beasts which strike such fear into the hearts of men, so affectionate with each other. I too have found comfort in their embrace, often falling asleep aside the two beasts as a child, usually as they coiled. My father, Daemon would be the one to find me, to scoop me in his arms and return me to Dragonstone.

Vermithor had taken a liking to me, he was an aloof beast - distant. Yet it was my bond with Silverwing which softened his gaze upon me, allowing me to sit by them both under the torch light, reading. Silverwing had always been the most gentle of the elder dragons, tentative to my thoughts and whims. I needn't say many commands, for she already knows my desires. Many found it odd I had claimed her over Vermithor, thinking his temperament was more aligned with my own. In some ways, I wish I had. There was something terribly revealing about claiming such a docile dragon. Something vulnerable, as though it revealed my own heart to others without any need for confession.

This was my home, not King's Landing - city of piss and rotting teeth. Dragonstone was a place of magic; I can feel it simmering in the air and ground. Sense it when I place my palm on the rocks. That low humming of the hearth of Valyria, of the Targaryen's. Many find it to be a grim place, akin with Harrenhal - though mystified with blood magic instead of a curse.

But it is that which drives me to it, my heart doesn't fear it's darkness nor its danger. For I know within it, for those truly of the blood of the dragon - its darkness is merely there so that our fire may burn brightly. A cocoon of warmth. It is not like the emptied and sullen corpse of Harrenhal, no, Dragonstone is full - it is alive. So, it came as no shock to my mother that I had forfeited my claim to the throne, opting to rule Dragonstone instead and allow my brother, Jacaerys to be her heir.

The realm deserves a King of a kind and just nature; that is not me. My temper burns too hot, and I have no desire to be pulled as a puppet on a string. I have no taste for politics, nor can bear the burden of pleasing the faith. In that regard, I am much like my father, and he was not meant for the throne either.

Daemon, of course was outraged by this notion and doubled down, claiming my willingness to give up the throne proved I was fair enough to sit upon it. But I know that is not true, for if it were - my mother would have refused me. At first, of course she protested but came to see that my heart lies here, not in court. And I shall continue our line, where our House belongs and I shall raise my brothers Viserys, Aegon iii and any child I might have here - amidst the ash and warmth.

My mother has been generous in her patience of me, and my father overjoyed with the notion that I have not wed yet. They are letting me decide who is worthy, and I still have made no choice. Marriage is to be political yes, but I cannot bare marrying and laying with a man I feel little for. I wish to have what my mother and father have, but there is an unlikely chance it seems.

The most promising match's hail from House Stark and Blackwood. Though neither of which please me greatly. In truth, I had wished to marry as mother did, to a Targaryen, to have an ancestral wedding too. Though it seems the God's did not write such a thing within my fate. So, in turn, I wait. I wait to see just where this path of what has felt like endless girlhood shall end. I am but eight and ten, still no marriage or children to speak - some have suggested that I shall take after my great Aunt Saera Targaryen. In truth such a life sounds rather pleasing; fucking lovers then taking off to Lys, pretending to be a maiden to exploit patrons of pleasure houses. Only difference being I would not have to pretend at first.

As I made my way across the stones, I noted the sky dimming slowly, twas time I return home. Even for a Targaryen, nights on Dragonmount can be treacherous. It was no surprise to me that upon my return, more news of dramatics at King's Landing filled my ears. Luke's legitimacy was being called into question as heir to Driftmark by Vaemond Velaryon, on account of Lord Corlys' sudden illness. Of course, we were to be dragged to the capital for his trial. Despite the matter being settled already, it seemed those sniveling Hightower’s were to reconsider claims that had already been declared by King Viserys, though it was no surprise either to hear how my grandsire had deteriorated in years passing. A part of me longed to visit from time to time, though I knew why mother had to leave. Why it was impossible to stay amongst those dens of vipers.

I sat in Lucerys room, my hand entwined with his as he sat upon his bed. The both of us watching as Jace paced back and forth, ranting and muttering.

"Tis an outrage... how can Grandsire let this stand!" Jace paused and turned to us, his face curdled.

"I... do not know." I say softly, contemplating his words.

Jace's face hardens, he scoffs and turns to where Lucerys and I both sit. His finger pointed directly at me," We should not have spent such time away from King's Landing. Mother ought to have trusted us to face them!"

"She has been rather busy brother, rearing us. Tis not her job to entertain the Hightower’s wicked lies and let us spend our lives defending ourselves against them." I can only shake my head at my younger brother's fierce words. For I know he is brave and true, at times Jace can be too stern for his own good.

Jace purses his lips and turns to look upon the view of the bay. I can tell he has no argument against me, so I smile softly and turn my attention to my other brother, who nestles himself upon my shoulder.

"They aren’t lies though... are they? Even the Velaryon’s think it so. " The silence is broken as Luke's soft voice fills his chamber. His head rising from my shoulder as Jace turns once more.

“Ser Vaemond does not speak for the Sea Snake, brother…” I said, gently brushing his dark hair from his eye.

“But he speaks the opinion many seem to share.” Luke mutters lowly.

I turn my head to Jace, and both our gazes interlock as we struggle to confirm what our younger brother already knows. The silence continues, and then, Jace steps forward, his tone proud and measured.

"It matters not what they say. The only relevant truth is the fact we are Targaryen's and that Grandsire, and the Sea Snake supports yours and all our claims." Jace beckons, giving Luke a small smile. We both exchange another look before I watch as Jace turns, making his way towards the window once more.

In the corner of my eye, I can see how Luke’s face curdles with discomfort, I turn my head and give him a gentle nod, “You worry too much. All will be well in time.”

“There is much to worry about. I… I do not feel I am right to rule Driftmark, mayhap they are right to challenge me. I know nothing of commanding a fleet.” His dark eyes lower themselves to the ground, Lucerys frowns softly and I can’t help but pull his chin up so that he might look into my eyes once more.

“What do any of us know of our future duties, brother? What does Jace know about protecting the realm, or I about ruling Dragonstone? That is for us to uncover in time. Fuck the treacherous webs our enemies spin, they have their own wants… desires that tempt them. We need not listen, for once we sit upon our thrones their voices shall be too quiet to even hear.” As I let go of his chin, I found the excitement in my tone again. Lucerys face shifts to chuckle quietly and I do the same, he nods giving me a soft glare before rising to his feet to speak with Jace.

I take a moment to gaze upon my two brothers, to see them now growing into men… when it felt like only a moment ago they were mere boys before me. To see how their temperaments became more distinct by the day, gave me a sense of relief for our futures. They were good and brave, it seemed such were rare traits in times such as these. Their dark hair gleamed bronze in the sunlight for a moment, and I was filled with a warmth, a love that I couldn’t quite explain. Though yes, they were my mother’s sons – at times it felt like they were just as much my baby’s as they were hers. How I had held each one upon their birth and ran my fingers across their fat cheeks when they were babes. How, now as they grew into men it was the hard bone of their jaws my fingers would feel beneath them. Such sentiments made my stomach coil with a grief for our youth, for the innocence I felt was being chipped away at by the day. Yet now, seeing them before me, they still appear as the small boys I once held so close, and I knew it would not be very long until I had to let them go.

●

The trip to King’s Landing was but a short one on dragonback and the Princess Visenya indeed watched her earthly surroundings go from smoky wonders of Dragonstone to the dust filled haze of the capital. She practically felt her stomach reel from the mere thought of the familiar stench, and after leaving Silverwing in the Dragonpits it came as a surprise to all her family that upon their arrival to the Red Keep, none from their own House were there to greet them. Only Lord Caswell appeared before Princess Rhaenyra, approaching her with an understanding gaze. Of course, Alicent and her peculiar spawn would not show the decency of kin, for they weren’t. Not truly. Perhaps by blood, but it seemed that made matters worse given the context of the Blacks return. Still, Visenya thought, it had been six years since last they saw the rest of their family. Six years since the night on Driftmark which led to an even greater rift… six years since he had lost his-

“Sister!” Jacaerys snapped his finger before her face, snickering at the dazed Princess.

Visenya looked up from her entranced gaze, realising she had been staring at the ground below, she looked around to see the bustling of carriages and servants around her. The Princess shifted to her two half-brothers, Jace and Luke standing before her. The glimmer of Rhaenyra and Daemon’s silver hair disappearing into the darkness as they made their way into the keep.

“Mother and Daemon are to have an audience with Alicent, and it seems none of the Hightower’s have made time in their day to greet us. We are on our own.” Jace scoffed, folding his arms as he cocked his head.

Visenya raised her brow, nodding as she began to walk, “Tis a blessing really. I do not wish to ruin such a beautiful day with the look of their sullen faces.” Her head turned as Jace and Luke followed alongside her.

“They did all seem rather grey didn’t they?” Jace jested, chuckling to himself.

The three young Targaryen’s continued forth, making their way up the stairs from the middle bailey and into the halls of the Keep. Visenya spoke once more.

“I’d imagine all the years of conspiring and prayer has meant for little time in the sun. They likely appear as corpses now.” The Princess hollowed her cheeks as she gave a wink to Luke, winning a small giggle from him.

Once they had reached Maegor’s Holdfast, the siblings had branched off, returning to settle in to their childhood chambers. As Visenya reached hers a wave of bitter nostalgia washed over her, she let her fingers glide upon the stone walls observing how it had been kept so similar yet… different to how she had left it. Naturally, she had taken her belongings with her but the furniture and the deep crimson bedding. Yes, it had been left just as it was. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the freshly lit candles, the small dish of water and soap which sat in a silver tray upon her vanity, a small rag draping over the chair. Visenya smiled, knowing the servants had remembered such preferences of hers. Near her bed, sat the small trunk of the few belongings she’d brought from Dragonstone. Upon the mattress itself, lay the scarlet gown and matching slippers.

She sat upon her bed, taking in the smell of damp and mildew. The air around her was quite cold, though a fire crackled. It was likely her chambers had not been used since her departure, from the smell of it – it seemed to not have been cleaned very often either. She settled in, and soon found herself sitting at her old vanity. Admiring how she had grown, how the last time she gazed into this mirror she was but a girl.

The princess had indeed grown vigorously as the years passed. Much like her parents it seemed she had inherited both the mind and body of a dragonrider. Imposing, her body had become – not only to others but to herself. Her form Junoesque, unyielding in its femininity as her hips and breasts were among the first thing to develop suddenly. It seemed almost overnight she had no longer fit into the clothing she once freely adorned, her body changing, aching even. The first time she had gotten her moonblood felt like a life sentence for Visenya, as no more did she feel the same kind of unawareness of her body. The princess had felt like she was now very much a prisoner to her newly found womanhood, she seldom understood why such changes were needed. Why every moon her belly would swell, growing heavy and coil with pain, how she would have to crawl to her mother’s quarters and lay by her side simply to reassure such things were normal. Though, as the years had gone by, she adjusted to such feeling, relished that the pain she felt at times was proof of her fortitude. That no man could endure such sufferance so frequently.

Visenya marveled at her sun-kissed skin, the way her silver hair gleamed now that it had grown even longer than her mothers. She kept it loose, unbound; for she relished in letting her body grow as it pleased, there was no use in taming herself; her hair included. Indeed, did the Princess enjoy herself – for no matter how beautiful a man thought her to be, it was herself which she wished to appease the most. The Princess was strict regarding her standards, unwavering that she would be dressed in the finest gowns, and smell of the richest scents the realm had to offer. Whether it was silk from Dorne or perfumed oil from Lys – she simply refused to lead a life without such beauty within it. Some may think it shallow or indulgent, but Visenya knew it was merely her lust for life which drove her towards such luxuries. She wished to experience everything, wished for a life of sensuality and passion. There was no grey cloud in her sky that was without a silver lining, for she would not accept much less than satisfaction. After all, there was so much suffering in the realm, so much ugliness and brutality. She owed it to every poor soul who died so terribly, to live life as it ought to be lived. Indulging and embracing pleasure and beauty in every way, for so few had the opportunity to.

Such mentality, did however, lead her at times to indulge in the filtrations of men and despite Visenya’s bravado, she was gentle at heart - oft stringing men along rather than shatter their dreams of winning her favor. Such is exactly what her father had told her worried him before their arrival to King’s Landing. He spoke of how difficult it was stopping his inclinations to assault the few men he might find leering at her at Dragonstone. King’s Landing, however, was a different beast and Prince Daemon had no doubt he would be combatting an endless sea of men who might have more lecherous ideas. He had spoken sternly about keeping to herself, not drawing attention to herself beyond what would already be given. That if any man were to approach her, she would deny him.

The Princess of course, found her father’s worry amusing, the few times she had entertained men had only ever ended up with innocent mischief being made, and at times drunken affections… which were oft less innocent in nature. But she was no fool as to lose her virtue before marriage, for she knew how such a thing impacted her mother and she had promised herself that her virtue was a pleasure in itself. That there is beauty in saving herself for the truest, purest of loves, as there is beauty in indulging in fleshly pleasure. Visenya was positive no man would attempt to accost her in such a manner, for if they did they would face the wrath of her mother and of course the looming threat of her rumoured father, Prince Daemon.

As she prepared herself to leave, she peeled the thick, black riding leathers from her frame, cringing at the particular scent of sweat and dragon that ruminated from them. Visenya then doused the rag in the bowl of water, using the soap to scrub at any and all places which eluded to such a scent. Soon, she had changed her undergarments, and drew the scarlet shaded gown over her frame; it’s sleeves long and elaborate, intwining string which laced across her structured shoulders. Visenya then pulled a small vile of perfumed oil, from her trunk, dabbing it upon her skin and threading it through her hair. The contents of which filled the room with the smell of heady jasmine and musk, a recent gift from a nobleman in Lys.

As she left her chamber, she was accosted by Jace and Luke. Who swiftly grabbed her wrist pulling her along the corridors as they babbled about going back to the middle bailey to re visit where they trained as children.

Once they reached those fateful steps, they let go and waved for her to join them in a busy yard below..

“Come. You can watch.” Jace beckoned, Luke stopping upon the steps to look up towards her.

Visenya shook her head, leaning against stone banister upon the mezzanine which overlooked the commotion below. The Princess cocked her head to the side, “I’ve just changed… I have little intention of getting myself filthy once more.”

“Of course…” Jacaerys shook his head, rolling his eyes as he let out an amused scoff, “Suit yourself then.”

With that, the two boys trotted down the steps, and Visenya looked upon the bustling yard below. She watched with a hearty smile as her brothers made their way towards the wooden weaponry stand, Jace playfully swinging one of the swords at Lucerys. However, she noted the few people who glared at her brothers and the whispering that occurred in their presence. A slight anger rose in her belly, do these fat old Lord’s and Lady’s have little else to do but gossip?

She waited until a pair had noticed Visenya’s scowling from above, and smiled smugly when swiftly they turned their heads and went about their business. A small gathering had distracted the Princess, as it seemed there to be an on going sparring session in the far corner of the yard. The whipping of long silver hair catching her attention, and she noticed how her brothers had soon caught wind of the action, joining the crowd below.

The silver haired figure was lithe with lean thew and a tall frame all tightly contained in black leathers. He swiftly jostled the sword in his hand with a fine precision, but her eyes caught a familiar sight, that it was Ser Criston whom the figure dueled against. A cunt, though he may be, but a talented fighter indeed.

Criston swung his Morningstar, shattering the figure’s shield. He’s done for. Visenya thought. However, she raised her brow in intrigue as the figure discarded his shield with fierce aggression and then began striking. Perhaps not. She thought again, impressed by his fortitude. One after the other, a flash of steel and light locks before he ducked and turned – it was then when she felt her heart practically fall into her chest. The figures face sharp and aquiline, his skin pale… too pale. That familiar grey.

It was the black eye patch which was tightly fastened over his right eye which gave it away.

Aemond.

He continued on, fighting harshly and fiercely against Cole before finally, winning the duel. Visenya looked at her brothers below, hearing Aemond’s voice mutter something to them both as he had finally acknowledged the two young Princes’. Though something had told her, Aemond was well aware of their presence. Jace looked up at Visenya pleadingly, and it came as no surprise then when she looked back, she noticed Aemond’s gaze follow her brothers upwards.

For what could have only had been a second, they clocked each other. The Princess felt her eyes widen, shock, fear, anger, intrguie, digust; any and all emotion flooding through her in those fateful seconds. He noticed her, he took her in. He knew it was her. She tussled her hair back and looked away, pretending as though she hadn't recognized him.

Aemond narrowed his eye upon the Princess, scanning her briefly. He had only gazed upon her for a second, he tilted his head as if he was contemplating something before his attention was drawn to the incoming drawing of the heavy gates.

Visenya steadied her breath and watched as the gates opened with a heavy moan. If only to make matters worse, the arriving party was another headache in itself... Vaemond Velaryon.

○viii○

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