#daenerys x oc

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Bennedict Stark aesthetic

Bennedict Stark, eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. Elder brother to Robert Stark, Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Brandon Stark, and Rickon Stark.

Bennedict Stark joined Queen Daenerys Targaryen’s side in Qarth and remained loyal by her side. They later on married and proceeded to have three children despite what the witch had said, Rhaella Targaryen, Baelor Targaryen, and Daena Targaryen.

Bennedict gifted his eldest daughter a dragon egg upon her birth, he had to risk his life to find and get the egg. The egg went on to hatch a female dragon which was later on called Helael. Bennedict was unsuccessful in finding anymore eggs for the other two children but Helael went on to have a clutch of eggs rumored to be Drogon’s.

[rainwingmarvel7]

Alistair and Daenerys in Meereen💕

oh my god I am so obsessed with this - seriously thank you so much @murmel-malt this is so perfect!!!

[fandomficsnstuff]

The Dragon's Daughter - 15

(Warnings: Rhaella not taking any shit, angst, mentions of arranged marriages (I pick this as a warning because I believe everyone has the right to choose who they want to marry, and be allowed to do so (though of course not if they are under 18)), some more angst before a little bit of fluff, some more fluff and hint at a possible romance later on:3)

Dothraki will be in bold

High Valyrian will be in cursive

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ezzo could see the annoyance on her face as she sat on the chair, him by her side and he could see how her hands clenched and unclenched every now and then, something he has come to see as an obvious sign that she would rather be anywhere else than here, specifically on the back of a terrifying, fire-spewing creature of fire-made flesh and certain doom. She had truly grown into her looks, she always had a defiant look about her, her dragon eyes sharp and focused. Her brows were thicker than that of her mother’s, and a little more bushier, a hint of her father’s looks shining through. Her features had turned more sharp instead of soft, her cheekbones high and prominent. She had long, straight hair that was as thick as her father’s hair had been, her shoulders a little broader than her mother’s yet she was almost the same height as her, only a little shorter than the Dragon Queen. Over the years of training she had grown strong and Ezzo would bet his braid that she could arm wrestle most of these fat lords and hold her own.

He leaned down, whispering something to her that made her smirk and she pressed her lips together in a thin line to try and not laugh loudly, Ezzo leaning back with a pleased smirk on his lips as the next suitor approached. An old man. Or at least, he thought he looked old. Too old for the princess without a doubt. “Your Highness, Lord Adrian Celtigar of Claw Isle” a guard called out, Rhaella’s smile at Ezzo’s whispered words vanished and once again she was the stoic regal woman her mother had raised her to be, with pride, and he had been a part of it, he had been by her side when she saw born, when he was barely three and ten, having already earned his braid by then. If his hair had been long enough for a braid back then, of course. But now it certainly was, twelve years after Daenerys took the throne as the rightful queen she was, the rightful Khaleesi.

“Hello, Your Highness” Lord Adrian bowed low, as low as he could with his fat belly, his face red and his hair starting to fall out, causing him to go bald only at the top of his head, only further highlighting his age. “I must say, you are far more beautiful than I have ever heard, your eyes-”

“Are those of a dragon” Ezzo spoke up in broken Westerosi, Rhaella turning to him with shock, though it wasn’t an unpleasant shock in her eyes. “When did you learn to speak Westerosi?” she asked quietly, Ezzo just smirking, giving her a wink, making her scoff lightly with amusement, looking back at the lord “forgive him, My Lord, he is still learning the common tongue” Rhaella stated politely, biting the inside of her cheek whenever she spoke a lie of some kind, making Ezzo smirk again. “I see, Your Highness, I will admit that I don’t quite understand keeping a savage at your side, many of these-... horse-lords have returned to where they belong, one would think we’d have driven them all out by now” he joked, looking around, a few people snickering and Rhaella’s polite smile faded, her abruptly standing up making the entire hall quiet. She picked up the skirt of her dress to walk down the steps of the podium, hands folded in front of her as she stood in front of the long, long line of suitors “every man who thought that amusing. Leave. I have no time for those who are unappreciative of unusual or different things, or different cultures. Ezzo is my sworn sword and shield. He, and his people, will be treated with the respect they deserve, if you cannot accept the unusual, you have no right to ask for my hand in marriage. I am Targaryen, I am the dragon’s daughter, I am anything but the normal” she stated loudly, turning to a guard, giving a brief nod and every man who had snickered, including Lord Adrian, was escorted out, much to everyone’s shock. She studied the now completely silent room, taking a subtle but deep breath, letting it out just as subtly before beginning to walk towards the exit, everyone immediately parting for her, creating a path, some taking a step away when Ezzo walked by her side, glaring at them all. “You didn’t tell me you could speak Westerosi” she said as she walked outside with him, Ezzo smirking “maybe I wanted to surprise you” he whispered teasingly, noticing the light blush on her cheeks as she scoffed, shaking her head with amusement “you succeeded” she whispered back, smirking at him over her shoulder before continuing towards the carriage, a small groan leaving her. “I am allowed to ride a dragon, but not my own horse… seems quite illogical” she muttered, making Ezzo chuckle “what is stopping you?”

“I have no horse to ride?” she retorted with raised eyebrows, making Ezzo smirk again, his smirk making her frown and lean back a little, narrowing her eyes at him but before she could say anything, he stepped aside, gesturing to his own horse and she narrowed her eyes even more at him, sighing softly “you are cruel to tempt me, you know I can’t” she hissed, hinting at the sight of her sitting behind or in front of a man on a horse who was her sworn shield and not her husband or betrothed, Ezzo just shrugging “I will walk” his words made her entire demeanor change, her gaze softening “you would do that, for me?”

“I would die for you” he whispered softly, watching once again as that blush made it’s way to her cheeks as she approached the horse and his entire expression softened when she gently walked up to the horse, petting it’s neck, whispering praises in High Valyrian with a smile, his heart racing at the sight. She had truly grown up, she was a woman grown now, nine and ten. He understood, though loathed, all the men desiring her. Her silver hair was so long it almost reached her hips when loose, the few times he had been fortunate enough to see it loose. Intricate braids had pulled it up to just under her shoulders. He had been aware of the desperate ache to braid those braids himself for quite a while, yet he did nothing about it, willingly. She deserved better.

“Well? Are you coming or not?” she asked with a smirk, Ezzo noticing that she had already saddled up, both legs on one side of the horse thanks to the wrong attire, her dress would ride up and probably expose far more than he wanted anyone else to see. He smirked and tilted his head up at her “I am walking, remember?” he asked and she seemed almost disappointed, nodding before gesturing to the carriage, making her smirk when he lightly glared at her

“Oh please, you would die for me, but not ride in a carriage?” she asked teasingly, Ezzo hesitating before whistling, nodding a Queensgarde over, nodding him off the horse which just made Rhaella chuckle. The Queensgarde was unmoving until Ezzo got impatient, cursing in Dothraki which is when Rhaella stepped in, ordering him off the horse and Ezzo quickly saddled up, before the poor guard was barely off. “Ride in the carriage, all that armor must be heavy” Rhaella said softly, the guard hesitantly doing as ordered, Ezzo smirking at her. “Home?” Ezzo asked in a broken accent, Rhaella smiling, giving him a big grin, with teeth and everything, looking utterly adorable in his opinion “home” she agreed before taking flight.

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Rhaella was quiet as she stood under the shelter, eyes locked on the sea, hands clasped in front of herself, a frown on her silver brows, her golden eyes scanning the sea, the way the sun glistened on the surface of the water, almost blinding her. Ezzo approached quietly, sneaking up on her, trying to suppress his grin as he finally reached her, his hands briefly making contact with her hips, Ezzo leaning back as she threw her elbow up out of instinct, which he knew she would. She pushed him once she saw it was him, trying to deny the smile on her lips “you scared me!” she snapped yet with a grin, Ezzo just smirking at her as she turned back to watch the sea. Ezzo studied her before leaning down briefly “what are you thinking?” he asked in a quiet voice from behind her, unaware of the shiver that ran down her back, Ezzo walking around her to lean and sit on the half-wall that faced the sea, effectively sitting a little in front of her. She sighed softly, looking down at her hands as she played with her fingers to occupy herself as her mind raced. “That I won’t have a choice… that I will never truly have a choice” she admitted quietly, turning around and sitting down on the half-wall next to him, Ezzo studying her with concern “the suitors?” he asked, watching her nod with that same frown. “Yes… I feel as though I am being sold, like I have no meaning but to-... be forced to submit to a man” she admitted with anger, her golden eyes fixated on the ground in front of her, Ezzo hesitating before putting a strand of hair behind her ear that had been tugged loose, his finger lingering on her cheek, her eyes lifting to lock with his, even after he dropped his hand. “What worries you the most?”

“The age. They’re all-... fat lords! Fat, old lords or children! They’re all either old enough to be my grandfather or young enough to be my son!”

“Son?”

“Maybe not that, but definitely too young! One of the houses asked for my hand in marriage to their son, Wyllis… He is three!” she revealed with anger, Ezzo chuckling with amusement, shaking his head as he looked ahead, shrugging “so, what is too much, what is too little?” he asked and Rhaella looked ahead, deep in thought, giving him an opportunity to admire her closely without her noticing. If she looked at him, he’d simply play it off as him waiting for an answer.

“Well, under five-and-ten is much too young! Actually, make that anyone under six-and-ten… and too old?... I-I… not over-... twenty?” she asked cautiously, looking at Ezzo who nodded with a smirk “then you have narrowed the possibilities considerably” he stated and Rhaella rolled her eyes with amusement, nudging him with her elbow, making him look at her, a genuine smile on her lips “thank you” she said softly, knowing he knew what it meant, a smile of his own on his lips as he nodded in return.

“I don’t want to marry” Rhaella whispered in a worried voice, Ezzo frowning, his hand coming up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb gently brushing across her cheekbone, her golden eyes, their slit pupils, they always took his breath away. “Then you won’t” he said, making her smile a little “I will not accept, hm?” he asked and Rhaella nodded, leaning into his touch, leaning her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, enjoying the calm of it all, the gulls calling out, flying above them, the soft smell of the roses and flowers around them. “Do you miss Essos?” she asked suddenly, her eyes opening, staring ahead, at nothing in particular, Ezzo doing the same, tilting his head to lay it against hers, sighing softly “I miss the sun on my skin. I miss the dust. The sand… I miss the open plains, the Great Grass Sea…” he admitted, Rhaella smiling softly “it sounds lovely… I wish I could remember it…” she admitted, Ezzo smirking a little at the thought of her riding with him through the Great Grass Sea.

It wasn’t long until he felt her shiver a little, lifting his head to look down at her before nudging her to stand up, nodding towards the castle and she nodded, walking back with him.

Daenerys watched from her balcony, a frown on her brows, her hand moving to her swollen belly as she watched them, Jon appearing at her side, gently wrapping an arm around her waist. “Perhaps there is another match?” he asked, Daenerys turning to look at him, thinking it through. “The Dothraki are-... different-”

“So is Ezzo” Jon pointed out, Daenerys smiling softly in agreement “he is… but still… a Westerosi match would help her claim to the throne, the other lords and ladies-”

“The other lords and ladies, they don’t matter-”

“Jon-”

“They don’t. Rhaella is your daughter, your child. The Iron Throne is hers, by right of birth and blood, she is the next Queen. She is like you, so would you prefer to marry for love, or politics?” Jon asked and she hesitated before sighing “she is too much like me sometimes…” Daenerys noted, Jon chuckling briefly with a small smirk “as opposed to her father?”

“You raised her-”

“Aye, I did, with you, and I’d do anything to do it all over again, to do the same things, because I love her like she’s my own. But there will always be her father in her, and I’m glad for that. It gives her a strength I’ve only seen in your dragons” Jon admitted, Daenerys sighing softly, gently kissing him before shaking her head “it still stands…” she whispered, worry evident in her eyes “she will marry a Westerosi noble… or they won’t support her when she takes the throne, and she needs the support of the Westerosi to actually rule Westeros” Daenerys explained, Jon sighing, looking down as he nodded, disagreeing but accepting her final verdict. When they had gotten married, many thought he’d take the throne. No one truly knew of his inheritance, his true blood, even though he abandoned it, yet people still thought a ‘bastard’ was better suited than a trueborn woman, but over her reign there was peace. True peace. Sansa Stark was Wardeness of the North, Gendry was Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End and Warden of the South. Robin Arryn ruled the Vale as Warden of the East. Tyrion was still a Lannister, he was her hand, yet also a Lannister, thus Casterly Rock was his as he served as Warden of the West, his nephew, Cersei’s last child while she rotted in the dungeons of the Red Keep, under his careful watch and care. Tobin Martell ruled Dorne, house Tully ruled the Riverlands and so on and so on. The land of Highgarden had been given to the great-great-grand cousin of Mace Tyrell, Lord Arren Tyrell, their sigil the same but now with a few thorns around their golden rose on the green field.

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By now, Rhaella wasn’t even paying attention to all the men standing in that line, waiting to boast about themselves to her. She was looking at them, acknowledging them, only to dismiss them, fake politeness and thank them for their words before calling on the next person. This continued for two hours. Until one man stepped forward. “Lord Tyres Westford” the guard announced, Rhaella still barely showing any interest beyond what was absolutely necessary. “Your Highness,” he bowed his head before looking at Ezzo, frowning ever so slightly and Rhaella caught on that he didn’t know the Dothraki’s name, “Ezzo” she spoke, trying to hide the boredom in her tone, Tyres smiling and bowing his head at Ezzo with genuine respect, at least it looked genuine, but it certainly caught Rhaella’s attention “Lord Ezzo,” he raised back up, hands folded awkwardly in front of him “I suppose this is where I tell you of how many tournaments I’ve won?” he asked jokingly, a few people in the hall chuckling, yet a bored expression was still on Rhaella’s face “but you don’t care” Tyres noted with narrowed eyes before nodding to himself “why should you? It’s not like we’d duel” he stated, mostly to himself but it made quite a few people snicker with amusement, a frown forming on Rhaella’s brows “and what makes you think that? Perhaps a duel is how I’d prefer to choose my husband. Are you saying women can’t duel?”

“No, they most certainly can, as the commander of the Queensgarde has proven multiple times, they even say she fought the Hound, and won! I only meant that, to my knowledge, we are not to duel” he admitted, Rhaella narrowing her eyes at him before tilting her head, leaning a bit closer “and what if that were what I’d ask of you? A duel?” the people in the hall began to murmur and whisper in shock at her words. There were now women in the Queensgarde and with the Maesters at the Citadel, but a princess who could fight? Dueling, no less? With a man?

“Your wish is my command, Your Highness. If you wish a duel, you shall have it, so long as you don’t expect that I will go easy on you” he joked lightly, Rhaella smirking as she leaned back in her chair “good, then I won’t either. Noon, tomorrow, here, in this hall. The one who first draws blood, wins” she declared with a smirk, getting up as people whispered and mumbled, parting from her as she walked away, Tyres watching with a smirk, the way her scales glistened in the light, peeking out over her shoulders, making themselves known. Her dress had a small opening in the back and he could see the scales every time her hair swayed to one side or the other, revealing those blinding silver scales of a dragon.

[xxpeppermintxx109]

dany and brynden have my whole heart

[countrymusiclover]

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Robert Baratheon believes he has wiped out the last Targaryen children, but what if that isn't the case. What if Jaime Lannister who everyone refers to as "Kingslayer" had a hand in it. Would the middle daughter of the Mad King and Rhaella Targaryen wish to claim the Iron Throne. Read the story of Vaella Targaryen.

1 - The Lannister Kingsguard

2 - One Day It'll Be Just You and Me

3 - The Reputation Of A Princess

4 - We Have A Thing For Knights Don’t We?

5 - Tavern to Red Keep

6 - Here's to Aerys Targaryen

7 - Smells like Fire

8 - We're Family Now and Always

9 - Secretly Vaella Lannister

10 - Still A Golden Lion

11 - He’s Finally Mine

12 - Guilty of being a Dwarf

13 - Facing Cersei Lannister

14 - Targaryen’s and Lannister’s

15 - This is Home

16 - The Loyalty of Dragons

17 - Myrcella Lannister

18 - The Rock Shall Never Fall

19 - Targaryen Sisters Finally Clash

20 - Back to being a Prisoner

21 - The Lannister Trials

22 - More than One Plan

23 - The Legacy of Rhaegar

24 - When Dragons Flew to War

25 - The Dragon Island

26 - Playing the Game Now

27 - War Between Kin

28 - Loyalists of Queen Vaella

29 - Two Dragon Queens

30 - The King in the North

31 - Who Really Deserves The Throne

32 - Message of a Dragon

33 - Dragon vs Dragon

34 - From the South to the North

35 - Acting Like Our Father

36 - Heirs of the Rock or Throne

37 - The Night King part 1

38 - The Night King part 2

39 - Winterfell Celebration

40 - Rhaegar and Lyanna’s Child

41 - No Longer A Bastard

42 - All the Dragons Roar

43 - The People of King's Landing

44 - Securing the City

45 - The Rightful Queen

46 - Creating the new Westeros

????

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

@melvia-ito

[bl00dlight]

Ghostly Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC sister x Alys Rivers {NSFW}

Warnings ● more carpet munching, graphic language, general smut and filth, implied homophobia, age gap, dubious consent, violence against female character, heterosexuality, Aemond being depraved as fuck and lowkey the worst, oedipus complex, full blown targcest, mentions of Madame Sylvie (sorry yall), Alys Rivers being a trick ass bitch, not proof read

Word count ● 4.7k

Author's Note • Long awaited. It's finally here. Holy fuck it's actually... like insane how long this took for me to dwell on. I'm not gonna spoil anything but this one is a bit gross. In a good way. Sick sick sick.

Masterlist / Ghostly Flame ● Part I

Part II

The sight on the Prince Regent's bed was indeed, not a mere dream. He stammered as a flood of emotions suddenly whipped against his skull.

As he entered, Aemond's face darkened and the breath in his lungs all but vanished. Hs let fist slowly curl, though his eye was transfixed on the two women, watching as his paramour's mouth moved against his sister's skin. Despite it all, the disgust and rage that was brewing; for a brief moment he enjoyed the sounds and sight before him.

And yet, Aemond knew it was but a vile sin, a betrayal of both his bedmate and beloved sister. Still, the sight stirred heat within him.

Alys continued in her ministrations, her tongue moving with precision, seeking to please and to tease the princess. The witch was so engrossed in the task before her that she hadn't noticed the door or the figure which loomed in the shadows.

The sounds of his sister's mewling was enough to drive him over the edge. The prince clenched his jaw, he stalked towards the women and spoke, his voice ringing in the quiet of the room. "Alys."

Just like that the sounds of their pleasure had come to a deadened stop. Slowly Alys pulled away, and turned towards Aemond. Daera opened her eyes with a flash, her body jolting with fear and suddenly the humiliation rang true.

Aemond's own heart was hammering in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts he had never dared admit aloud.

"Tell me," Aemond whispered, his voice rough and low. "Do the both of you take me for a fool?"

Alys bowed her head and spoke gently, "My Prince, I..."

"Silence." Aemond sneered, stalking towards Alys. His fist soon met with her raven hair, gripping at it as he forced her head up at him. "I have had my fill of your vile tongue."

A silence brewed before he suddenly shoved the woman back to the ground. Alys winced as he body hit the floor with a startling thud. Daera shook, her hands in her head as she had pulled the sheets upon her bare flesh out of modesty. It was comical, still she seemed to care of propriety, even though her own brother had seen her in such a state.

Aemond grunted, raising a hand up as though he was to strike the woman before him. Alys stayed deadly still upon the ground, gritting her teeth, awaiting his hand to make contact with her flesh. Though he felt his rage stir he swiftly pulled his hand away. He could not strike her, no, instead he launched and gripped her arm, forcing her upon her feet.

"You dare humiliate me? You dare bring such shame upon me? Defiling my own blood, my sister! Upon the very bed I let your treacherous head lay, no less!" Aemond's lonesome eye was narrowed in a maelstrom of emotions, anger, betrayal, jealously, humiliation.

Yet in truth, he felt one thing; weakness.

Alys glared at him, speaking oddly calmly, "Of course not, your grace..."

"Then speak, bastard! Speak on the sight before me... of you upon my sister and why my eye was witness to it! Speak to why you... why you dare go against me, after all I have done! I spared you, or do you forget?" The prince gripped her flesh sternly and his gaze faltered as he felt sorrow bloom.

Daera looked away, she couldn't bare the scene before her. Couldn't bare what she had done, she hadn't even known what led her to do it. She had no excuse, no reason. It seemed to have happened before she had any idea it was occurring.

The princess wiped her tears, her heart aching. "Brother..." she muttered weakly, sorrowfully.

Aemond turned his head sharply, "I SHALL HEAR NOTHING FROM YOU!" He snapped at Daera, forcing her back into submission.

His gaze came to Alys once more, whom at this point was holding back a low snicker. Her hands came to his chest, and a low hum was earnt from the prince at her soothing ministrations.

"You are not so tempting as to distract me. I see you for what you are... a snake in my own den." He lowered his tone, as his hand came to her raven locks and gripped them.

Alys gave him an incredulous look once more, "You... you do not mean such things, I have been nothing but faithful, my prince."

"Yet your mouth was upon my sister? You think that faithful?" Aemond retorted swiftly, fastening his grip.

"I... I do not deny how such may seem an act of betrayal. But it was in service to you, your grace." Alys flinched as his hands laced themselves in her hair forcefully. Her voice still measured.

"Do not dare speak such folly-" His temper flared as Alys spoke over the Prince.

"It is not folly... I have brought her, swayed her senses so they may receive what is so deeply suppressed within her. She had not come for me, my prince. She came for you." Alys' voice like a siren song, she let her hands run to his cheeks. Gently stroking at his sharp features.

Silence beckoned for a moment, as Aemond found himself lured by the witch's words. Her eyes gazing with reverence upon him, yet there was a glimmer of something else. Something she had seen.

Slowly, Aemond's grip upon her hair eased flattening to cup her head, "What do you see?" He muttered, his eye scanning her carefully.

Daera's sobbing had eased now, and she watched with baited breath as her brother and the witch spoke before her. She noticed the tilt of Alys' head the low chuckle as she leaned in to Aemond's ear, muttering something unknown.

There was a noticeable shift, the sharp line of his jaw hardening as he eased into her touch. Daera caught a low hum from him, an inquisitive one as Alys nodded.

The prince turned to his sister, her trembling form. No doubt her mind already a place of torment for her. His gaze scanned over her pale flesh, silver hair - so much like his own. Though she looked more like their mother in her features. Melancholic round eyes, full lips; a soft cherubic face. She was a woman grown and yet, still appeared so much like the docile girl she once was in their youth.

Aemond leaned down, his silver hair catching in the moonlight as he gazed upon his sister sternly. His hand gripped her wrist.

"I ought to punish you." He said firmly.

Daera instantly weakened at his words, her head tilting, tears streaming as she simpered, "Brother..."

His hand suddenly clasped her cheek, silencing her whining, "Do as I say."

The Princess's eyes searched his lonesome one, her gaze coiling in uncertainty. She shook her head, disturbed by his sudden change of demanour. Her heart thundering as she knew whatever was to occur, was something she ought to be fearful of. She felt the need to beg, to plead for forgiveness. Though she remained still.

"I do not blame you, for failing to resist my Alys' charm. You are but a woman... you stand little chance against her, for even I find my resolve wavering in her wake." He slowly rose to his feet, and Alys came to him, slowly unstrapping his leathers from his chest.

"You are not... mad with me?" The Princess whimpered, squeezing her nails into her palms. Allowing the pain to distract her from her shame.

"What Alys has seen.. changes the matter." Aemond spoke with a new found clarity, though there was a bitterness that lingered upon his tongue.

Daera shook her head in response, she looked at Alys, whose hands were upon his breeches, unlacing them. Before she could continue he pulled her hands away from him. "No." Aemond muttered, slowly turning to his sister.

Daera found herself trembling once more, her eyes watery, desperately searching for answers as she whispered, "Seen what?"

It was the uncertainty in her eyes which made Aemond look away, his gaze narrowed upon the ground as he mumbled to Alys, "I cannot..."

The witch let her hands cup his face once more, soothing the fear he felt within him, "You can... and you will, desire has sown it's seed long bef-"

Aemond swiftly gripped her wrists, interrupting her, "Do not presume to know of my desires! She is my sister..."

The raven hair of Alys fell upon her pale shoulder as she turned to face the princess before her. Aemond's eye wandering for a moment upon her bare flesh... her breasts.

Daera looked into the green landscape of her eyes, flashes of them lingering between her thighs caused a spark of shame within the princess and she looked away. Alys chuckled softly, turning back to Aemond.

The witch leaned in, her hands coming back to his jaw, one slowly trailing down his neck. She hummed, smiling softly as Alys whispered to Aemond, "You are the blood of old Valyria, your grace... fire courses through your very flesh. A fire I have felt lick at my womb and that shall lick upon hers..."

Aemond's gaze met his paramour's in an intense exchange of understanding and trepidation. Though he was soothed by her gentle touch upon him, soothed by the wisdom her foresight granted him. She was right, it was not as though he held no desire for his sister. He had merely suppressed it. Why long for something that shall never be his to keep?

Their mother never sought to the betroth them, so Aemond simply focused on matters of duty; of becoming a formidable force in battle. Though he could not embrace Targaryen tradition entirely, he sought to expand upon it in other ways. He would seek to become a fierce dragonrider. A man of skill, for his legacy would be his own.

As he gazed upon his sister, he felt the sudden urge to comfort her. The tears that rolled upon her cheek meant for a greater challenge. He would not force himself upon her, but he could not deny the fire set ablaze in his blood when his eye wandered her flesh.

She was to be his destiny it seemed... and if Alys' vision proved true, the mother to his true born heir.

He stalked towards her, and once again found himself reaching over. As he extended his hand to cup her cheek she flinched, and Aemond merely persisted.

Daera however, was not so much aware of what Alys and Aemond spoke of. If anything she was still mortified by the fact her brother had seen her indulge in such sin.

Her gaze widened at the feeling of his palm upon her fleshy cheek, "Please... forgive me...I know I have tainted myself in the eyes of the Gods, but you must let me seek absolution from you. My resolve has grown weak, I see it now... I..." The princess mumbled, fanatically searching her brother's stoney gaze as he watched the trembling of her lips.

Silence beckoned, and Aemond remained still. His eye scanning over her, his thumb rubbing against the plushness of her cheeks. Her eyes that wore sorrow so beautifully, just as their mother's does. Large, comforting eyes... for a moment he felt a sense of boyish peace dawn upon him. Remembering how once, Alicent would gaze upon him with concerned filled eyes.

Though he had not spoken to his mother in many moons now, could not bare the sight of her. It was in Daera's simpering expression he found a small sense of comfort. She was but a piece of home. Though his youth was not always a happy one, there was peace. There was... a familiarity which made him wish to crawl within his sister's arms and pretend nothing bad had befallen them.

"Brother..." She whimpered, begging for him to say something; pulling the Prince from his thoughts.

Daera's eyes were caught by the familiar saunter of Alys' bare frame. She came to Aemond, leaning down as her thin, pale fingers tucked his silver hair behind his ear. Gently she cooed, "Go on, my prince... take what is yours."

With that Aemond glanced briefly and Alys, and then slowly looked back upon his sister. He moved now, shifting his weight to crawl upon the bed. His hand still gripping at her cheek, and the other now finding her waist, pulling her from the sheet and forcing her before him.

Aemond gazed softly, tentatively, at her. His hand moving to her silver curls; her hair so similar to her mother's. His fingers twirled a strand delicately, as though it were made of glass. He suddenly brought his face near her, his cheek grazing hers as he buried his nose within her locks for a moment. He breathed in, closing his eye. The familiar sweet smell of honeysuckled flesh filling his senses.

The princess was in complete shock, she had never known such affections from her brother before. Her eyes widened, her gaze meeting Alys', who came to the bed, sitting at the end as she removed Aemond's boots. Soon, her pale hand reaching over to stroke Aemond's hair gently. The princess furrowed her brow, positively unfurled by the scene before her. Her tears had all but come to a halt, not for the fact shame had left her, but for the fact she was overwrought by the absurdity of it all.

Aemond pulled back slightly, and both he and his sister let out a sharp breath. Her eyes wide, watching him carefully as he gently grazed his nose upon her cheek. His hand coming to her lips. Lips which were too, like Alicent's; swollen and quivering.

His eye, narrowed upon her and he caught her discomforted demanour. His fingers moving from her lips to cup her cheek as he muttered, "If it is absolution you seek, then let us not allow what transpired to be in vain. So, do as I say."

Daera though confused, did not protest. She nodded and heard her breath catch within her throat as he hummed slightly. Aemond brought his other hand to her cheek. A look of determination filled his eye though he seemed conflicted.

His gaze locked upon her lips, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to touch her. Though he knew not how to. Aemond grunted again, unsure of himself. An awkward tension rose as he stammered like a boy. The Prince huffed, looked down as humiliation coiled in his belly. He felt weak, he felt the fool.

He had, in truth never been with a woman as young as Daera. Though she was but a year younger than he. She was unlike Alys... unlike Madame Sylvie. Both of which had known the ways of initiating pleasure. He had never had to worry of such things, for both women brimmed with the confidence only within a mature woman, to take charge. Neither were coy, nor demure. Neither stuttered nor flinched when presented with his desire. Neither seemed so... shocked by his forwardness, nor hid behind maidenly virtue, nor looked upon him with judgement. They were women whom he felt safe with, secure with. He did not have to wear the mask he had crafted so precisely for himself. Did not have to act with the hard faced confidence of a man. Aemond could be unsure, with Alys and Madame Sylvie. He could let go of his masculine fortitude and be a boy once more.

But this was not the case with Daera. He could not help but find the judgement in her eyes, enraging. Already he thought of the million ways she may be laughing or repulsed by him. Already he thought of how she would reject him if he were not willing to do as had been taught men are to do. Take charge.

He could not falter with her, could not be seen as weak.

"Alys..." He muttered lowly, his head turning slightly as to call his paramour to guide him.

The witch continued stroking his hair, cooing softly as she gave him a knowing look, "As you would me..." Her voice soft, knowing he would understand her implication.

Aemond gave a small nod, his gaze then returning to his sister. A look of determination yet also... fear in his eye.

Daera had watched the interaction transpire as though she were but a mere spectator in her body. It hadn't felt real at all, it all seemed like an elaborate dream, and betwixt the moonlight and shadows of Harrenhal, he wasn't fully convinced it wasn't.

The princess found herself sharply returned back to reality as the feeling of her brother's breath upon her neck made her flinch. His fingers gently moving the strands of her silver curls away, before the soft and warm sensation of his lips met her neck.

Daera went to protest, but was met with the cold palm of Alys upon her other cheek, her fingers lacing in her hair as she pulled the princess' head to one side. Exposing more of her neck for Aemond to place his lips upon.

Alys smiled softly and gently stroked the coil of worry lines upon Daera's face.

"That's it." The witch lulled gently, slowly encouraging Daera to lean into her brother's touch. To which the princess slowly raised her hand to Aemond's silver strands, her fingers coiling into his scalp, earning a low groan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of his lips moving up her neck, his hands now moving upon her bare body, falling between her plush breasts, down onto the soft planes of her belly.

It was not long before she felt Alys' lips press into her own, a small whimper leaving the princess.

It was that sound which egged Aemond further, he kissed up Daera's jaw, hoping to siphon more of those sweet sounds from his sister. He felt the familiar touch of Alys upon the band of his breeches, already unlaced. Her cool hand shuffling them down, before reaching in, palming his stiffened length. The sudden feeling of his paramour's hand upon him made him groan. Though he swiftly pulled away from the soft flesh of his sister, his head turning to Alys' sharp face.

"I shall do it myself." His words a quiet yet sharp command.

Alys conceded and resumed her position behind him, gently she stroked his silver tresses. Slightly annoyed by his barking at her tonight. Though she supposed he probably still seethes over her seducing Daera so easily.

The princess was terribly lost in the moment. She had eased to her brother's advances and slowly, his hand came to move her head towards his and pressed into hers gently. Daera whimpered and he pulled away, catching a breath. It was with that kiss that her blood had been set ablaze by him. Suddenly, her hands reached up, catching his cheeks in her palms and attempting to force her lips back into his.

Aemond, pulled away slightly, if not only to tease her for her eagerness, but also to remind him he must remember she had not ever been touched by a man. She was unwed, a mere maiden and similarly to him, probably starved for affection.

A dark desire bloomed as he noted her pleading gaze, a sense of control he did not get with his older lovers. It felt good to be the one whom was bestowing another with affection. Filling a lovelorn void with her that he himself shared. He found her stammering endearing, familiar in a way.

He pulled back again, if not to see how her pretty face coiled in desperation. Just as his would. His hand moved to the back of her hair, gripping her strands roughly, her head tilting back before he spoke lowly, "Tell me you desire it."

Daera's eyes beamed with a sudden awakening desire. Her cunt growing warm, as she whispered, "I desire it."

Aemond's jaw clenched, his voice soft, "Do you want me?" His eye wide, expectant.

Slowly, the Princess let her hands move into his hair as she furrowed her brow, as if he had to ask, she thought. Her voice equally soft, needy, "Yes, brother."

It was those very words which set his lips to hers again. He forced his breeches from him, Alys aiding. Aemond let his knee pry Daera's legs apart, his hand moving to finally touch what he knew would already be ready for him. His fingers grazing her wet core, just as their lips upon each other grew far more intensive in their ministrations. Daera was again, shocked by how wet everything felt, and his fingers sliding between her cunt made her mouth open slightly as a moan left her.

He pushed her down, and his head turned to guesture for Alys to get behind Daera. The witch did so, moving so that her legs were parted where Daera's head lay between. Aemond looked down upon his sister then up at his paramour. His eye narrowed as he let himself slip a finger into Daera's entrance.

A sudden moan left the princess and her hands gripped at his upper arms, she found her head tilting back as a simpering gasp left her. His other hand guiding her knee upwards as he pushed two fingers within her. Slowly stretching her. His eye caught Alys again, who herself had seemed to find the ordeal so pleasing, her own hand worked upon her. He watched as she circled her cunt, then slowly fucking herself with her fingers. Though Daera hadn't noticed, she was too busy writhing beneath Aemond as his fingers had grown terribly fast.

Suddenly he stopped, pulling his fingers from her, his gaze still harsh upon Alys as she pleased herself. His jaw clenched as he had remembered the sight he had walked in upon.

Daera found herself letting out a small whine as he had stopped, she looked up at him, when she was met with his hand clasping her cheeks. Aemond spoke with a swift determination in his tone, "You will tend to Alys as I ready you."

Daera had opened her mouth to speak before Aemond interrupted, "Turn around."

With that, Daera had found herself most shocked, though slowly, hesitantly she turned to her belly and moved towards Alys.

Aemonds voice rang in the thick silence of the chamber, "Tell her what she might do." He said lowly to Alys, his gaze too busy scanning the vast expanse of Daera's pale back, her plump rear and fleshy thighs.

Alys hummed, titling her head, her hands coming to Daera's cheeks to pull her forward, "I shall take the girl's mouth." The witch spoke smugly, her hand pulling at Daera's hair as she lowered the princess' lips to her cunt. "Slowly, my pet..." Alys cooed. "With your tongue."

Daera all but whimpered as her mouth met the soft, delicate folds of Alys. She was not sure how to go about it, but she started with slow, languid licks, hoping she might gauge where Alys was brought pleasure. The witch hummed and chuckled with pleasure, her hips slowly circling as she pressed Daera's mouth upon her cunt further. She instructed the princess lowly, and soon Daera was using her tongue to circle Alys clit, winning groans from the older woman.

Aemond had found himself oddly transfixed by the sight, his paramour instructing his sister. It was as though he was watching himself in a way. Though the sight of the two woman before him, was far more thrilling than he had anticipated. Alys' head tilted back, forcing Daera to move quicker, and Aemond slowly pryed apart her thighs. His fingers finding Daera's soaked core.

He grazed her clit, winning gentle moans from her as his other hand kneaded her rear. Alys, moaned again, her peak dawning as she cried, "The prince watches us... sweet girl. He watches with reverence."

Her words sparked a quick hum from Aemond as he found himself focused on Daera again. He leaned down, his chest pressed upon her back as lewd sounds of the two women filled the chamber. He moved his sister's hair to the side, exposing her neck and back. Aemond pressed gentle kisses into her, his hands trailing her soft flesh.

As he went to kiss her again, Alys had pulled Daera's hair harshly, forcing Aemond to lose his grip slightly. He looked up at his paramour, watching as she rolled her hips on his sister mouth, chasing her endless peak.

She was indeed a woman of great fortitude, but this was not about her pleasure. This was about legacy, this was about himself and his sister... and their duty to House Targaryen. Aemond's hands wrapped around Daera's waist, suddenly pulling her away from Alys' cunt.

The witch's eyes opened swiftly, and she gasped. "Your grace?!" She barked, almost like a mother would towards her child.

Though Aemond paid little attention to Alys as he laid Daera down upon her back again. "You've had your fill." He muttered.

The raven haired woman scoffed, "So I get nothing then? I brought you the girl-"

Aemond raised his hand, his tone aloof as he gazed down upon Daera. "Leave us." Aemond spoke lowly to Alys, he was too transfixed on the way Daera had brought her hands to his cheeks.

"My Prince..." The witch begged. Alys let her gaze grow wide and discontented.

"Hm.." Aemond looked up to the older woman, his gaze unwavering, stern, "You may go."

It only took one disgruntled look from Alys before she gave a nod, biting her tongue as she moved away from the bed. She dressed herself once more and left without any protest. After all, she was but under his mercy.

The silence in the room was startling, Daera's eyes widened, and her hand came to Aemond's eye patch, though he forced her hand away. He did not say another word as he settled between her legs. Aemond moved her hand to clasp his length, guiding her hand up and down to ready himself.

His lips met hers as he moved her legs to wrapped around his hips, and slowly, Aemond let his cock graze her folds. Both of them moaning at the sensation. He felt his resolve weaken, and with that, he pushed into her entrance ever so slowly. Giving her time to adjust to him.

Her core tight, so tight he felt himself wince as he tried to push further. Daera squeezed his arm making him force her hands to his cheeks. "Calm yourself." He said lowly.

Daera obliged, she closed her eyes, trusting the sensation that currently stung with pain would soon dissolve and it did. He eased himself into her, and Daera marvelled at the sound he made when he had finally pushed within her. All that could be heard from her was a deep gasp, her head tilting back. As he rocked his hips, fucking her slowly, her hands laced into his hair and his face buried into her neck. Daera suddenly began to moan softly, wantonly as the sensation became more and more pleasurable as her core loosened. She began to feel herself relax, and he slid in and out of her with ease. Aemond at this point was all but lost, he kept moving into her, his hands cupping her face as he moved between his face in the crook of her neck or kissing her harshly. His moans growing more intense, their names flying from the other's mouth. Panting and cursing filled his chamber, alongside low growls as he relished the feeling of her warm cunt upon him.

"Sweet sister..." He grumbled, nodding as his peak was soon to come. "Have me." He said, almost sweetly against her flesh. He wanted to bury himself in her, hold her tight. And that he did, their bodies flushed firmly against each other and Daera had instinctively began to rock her hips against his.

She moaned, grappling at his hair as she whispered, "Aemond... my brother..."

It was her soft coos which triggered him to come fiercely within her. His seed causing an odd warmth to spread within her. As the moment diffused, the heat between them had caused both of them to become flushed, panting gently as they lay entwined upon the bed. The shadows enclasping them both, yet in their arms both found a sense of peace. Daera coiled into him, her head resting upon the top of his.

Aemond laid upon her, letting her arms wrap around him, her soft flesh against his taut frame felt like bliss. He breathed out, speaking softly against her skin, "Alys... she.." Aemond stammered breathlessly against her neck, leaving small kisses.

Daera raised her brow, her hands coming to his hair, gently grazing his silver tresses. The moment felt beyond intimate, she felt a strange tie to him. One that had been all but lost to their distant youths.

He let his hands gently carress her face, his cheek nuzzling against her own as he whispered softly, cooingly into her ear,"She see's a silver haired boy upon the throne... a boy who comes from the flesh of two dragons. The mother... a great beauty, the father... a feared warrior. Of darkness and light, joined by a ghostly flame of longing. Separated by time, brought together by blood. It is us... sweet sister. Alys sees us."

[councilofcastamere]

wouldn’t Zaar Goedemans make a great fancast as the daughter of Laenor and Rhaenyra had they ever been able to conceive? ♡︎

[blxkstar]

POV: You're in Game of Thrones

I made this playlist by mixing all of my game of thrones playlists into one (with some edits). Please check it out!

If you like this one, please check out my other playlists for specific houses and house of the dragon.

"I'm not going to stop the wheel, I'm going to break the wheel"

Winter is coming. We know what’s coming with it

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH - MASTERLIST

(Bran Stark x Fem!Targaryen OC)

A/N - Not gonna lie yall, I’m more productive with this story on Wattpad 😭😭 I think I might stick with posting on there instead. The chapters I’ve posted here have been slightly changed there too. I’ll put the link of it below.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/367425499?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=lovebaela

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒍𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒊 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Rhaella is the daughter of Mad King Aerys’ younger brother. Before the rebellion of Robert Baratheon, he fled to the Summer Isles, where he fell in love with a woman. He married her and they both consummated their marriage. Rhaella doesn’t know much about her parents, and always struggled with having a true home. One fateful day, her cousin Viserys sent her away to the Starks. Little did he know, that was the start of her journey of self-discovery.

“ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌 , 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 . 𝑻𝒉𝒊�� 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 .”

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bran is the fourth child of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. All he ever wanted was to become a knight. He always thought one day he would join the kingsguard. That was until the day he found out he was betrothed to Rhaella. He didn’t think much of it, still able to be a warrior…until the day he became broken. All he wants is to find a purpose now in his life.

✮ ₊ Chapters ✧ ᵔ₊ 𓆪

1, 2, 3, 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own asoiaf, any pictures, or gifs that I use in the series🤍

Art by eleneyaart, fredrickruntu

Dividers by @saradika-graphics @saradika

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

[imbunnysan]

Commission

[mysticalprincesskitten]

Aegon II Targaryen x OC // House of the Dragon fanfic

Yandere!Aegon, Dark!Aegon

Trigger warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mdni, dark themes, bondage, kidnapping, yandere?? Targcest, OC is Viserys and Aemma's daughter, OC is named Daenerys, OC looks like Elizabeth Olsen

Part Three

The crown had changed Aegon.

No longer was he merely a youth craving his mother’s kindness, his father's attention, forever in the shadow of who he was supposed to be. Now he was King of the Seven Kingdoms, at war with his half-sister for the throne on which he sat.

Fate had forced this on him, but Aegon had embraced it. For the sake of his family, for Mother and Aemond and Helaena and their little twins, Rhaenyra could not ascend the Iron Throne. She would kill them all.

Besides. Aegon was the rightful king. Father had agreed as much finally on his deathbed; as the firstborn son, Viserys’ crown passed to Aegon. The Great Council had reinforced tradition by seating his father on the throne instead of Rhaenys, but Father, in his arrogance, opposed tradition by naming his favourite child heir. Mother said so.

If only his wife could see the truth.

Daenerys was a hellcat. A she-dragon. Since Aemond had ambushed her at Storm’s End, forcing her to dismount Grey Ghost and return to King’s Landing lest Vhagar rip her beloved dragon to shreds, Daenerys had refused to touch Aegon, to speak a kind word to him. It made him whine and whimper, a kicked dog. Daenerys loved him. She always had. She was the only one who knew him, who didn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t.

And now she wouldn’t be close to him unless he bound her to their bed.

His grandfather was a fool, but he was right about one thing — the king needed an heir. Daenerys and Aegon had been wed for a couple of years and they had yet to conceive. It had never bothered Aegon before — one less person to steal her attention from him, truth be told — but that was when he'd been Prince Aegon.

King Aegon needed a trueborn heir from his queen.

And Aegon had missed her so, so much.

“How dare you?” His she-dragon thrashed anew in her bonds. “I am not your broodmare, Usurper!”

Aegon flinched. Then the fire within his own blood met to meet hers.

“How dare I? How dare you, sweet sister. My beloved bride. We are married, whether you like it not. You are mine. Do you think I could bear for you to leave me again? I let you slip from me once and they forced a crown on my head.” His lip wobbled, even as he held her wrists tight enough to bruise. He wanted his marks on her. His his his.

She was all he had, his only good thing. Daenerys had been by his side all his life, a playmate and partner. Sometimes she insisted they include Helaena and Aemond in their play, and Jace and Luke, but most of the time, if he pouted just so, he could get her to play just the two of them, chasing each other through the Red Keep, bumping into servants and high lords alike, playing monsters and maidens and come-into-my-castle.

And when childhood faded to adulthood, his sister’s soft curves and smooth skin made him stiffen in his breeches at the worst possible moments. He found himself transfixed by the dimple of her cleavage, a faint line peeking from the silver and cream gown she wore.

His Nerys refused to wear green, but rarely donned their House colours — Rhaenyra’s colours — either. Her heraldry honoured her dragon instead, the wild Grey Ghost. She liked silver Myrish lace and ivory Lyseni silks the most, beaded with opals and moonstone. Aegon liked how her gowns looked scattered across the floor of their bedchamber.

“It’s not too late,” she breathed, violet eyes wide and watery. “We could leave, Aeg. We could leave King’s Landing. Leave the Seven Kingdoms. Fly to the Free Cities with me. We could explore new lands, taste new cuisine, where nobody from this dreary kingdom would ever find us. We could see the Dothraki Sea, the old lands of Valyria's empire. Please, Aeg. Please.”

He could see her vision clearly: clouds covering exotic lands, blades of emerald grass below. Both of them, together. How they had always been. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted before his mother marched him to his coronation?

But another path lay open to him now. What if they didn’t have to flee? The crown was heavy, but Aegon found his liked it’s weight.

He was King. Nerys was his queen. She would give him trueborn princes and princesses that would fill the Red Keep, enough to lay his claim so deep inside her she could never claw it out.

A frenzy overtook him. He crashed their lips together, and she kissed him back, Seven Hells she was finally kissing him back, finally, she loved him again, she did she did…

His tongue tasted the sweetness of her mouth, overwhelmed with the need to possess. “I love you,” he gasped, “I love you so much, Nerys…”

“Untie me.”

He stilled. Stroked silver curls from her forehead, gazing at her with pain in his chest.

“No.”

Her face grew cold. “You won’t leave. Not now. You’ve supped from the king’s cup and now you mean to gorge yourself, like you always do.”

“Enough,” he snapped. “Stop spoiling everything.” His lips returned to her throat.

“Aegon, no! Stop!”

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Grandfather had spoke sense that morning during the Small Council meeting. Without an heir, Aegon’s grasp on the throne was tentative. Rhaenyra had six sons to succeed her. Should anything happen to Aegon before he sired a son, the throne would pass to Aemond.

Aegon often wondered whether his brother would be happy if he died. Aemond lusted for kingship, for Helaena and a dragon to call his own. He had two of those things already.

“Get off me!”

“Hush.” His right hand clenched her throat, the other trailing beneath her nightgown where her legs were bound together, seeking the wetness between her thighs.

“Aegon…” Nerys moaned.

“I know how to touch you, Nerys. Your body might as well be my own.”

She started to curse him but another moan strangled her words. “You disgust me.”

Don’t say that. “Do I? This tells a different story.” His fingers thrust into her.

She cried out.

“That’s it, darling. Let me take care of you."

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Legacy of Fire (series masterlist)

Summery: Vaeloria Targaryen's life journey. How a girl who grew up as the only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell hidden away in Dorne, life change when she discovers she was in fact Vaeloria Targaryen all along after all.

Warnings: Cursing, death by sword, death by fire, death by hanging, war, humiliation, betrayal, violence, use of the word bastard, incest, angst, fluff, burning, threatening, future smut, P in V, fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, blowjob, handjob, anal sex, girl x girl, boy x girl, boy x boy, dragons

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

[aifanartica]

[fandomficsnstuff]

The Dragon's Daughter - 22

(Warnings: Mentions of injury, some fluff, more fluff and even more fluff. Some slight angst at the end and a very very small hint at possible Anorexia)

Dothraki will be in bold

High Valyrian will be in cursive

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowd gasped in shock as one of the knights’ lance crashed against the shield of Ser Jeor, a man from a small house in the North, one of the first ones Daenerys had ever knighted, actually, five years after she ascended the throne, the man had been but three and ten at the time, a young boy with a talent for the sword and shield. And the lance, apparently, as Ser Jeor was still seated atop his horse while his opponent, Ser Whoever-Gives-A-Damn, hung off the side of his horse with his splintered lance, barely holding on as people clapped for Ser Jeor as he rode up to the Royal Box. “Your Grace!” he called and Rhaella sighed lightly, standing up and walking down the few steps to look over the edge, forcing a polite smile “it was well blocked, Ser Jeor.”

“You remember me?”

“Your name was called out before the jousting, along with your opponents” she pointed out and he smirked under his helmet, which was barely visible under the T shaped opening. “You could have forgotten” he stated and she merely forced a smile, making him nod “I ask of your favour, may I have it?” he asked and Rhaella nodded, walking over to the small table where the favours were and picked one up, walking back and sliding it down his lance “good luck, Ser Jeor. It seems your opponent wants another go” she stated and gestured to the rather heated opponent, impatiently waiting for the opportunity to knock Ser Jeor off his horse. “Aye, it does” he agreed, giving the Queen a charming smirk as he bowed his head in respect before riding back to his starting post, Rhaella walking back and sitting down in her seat, letting out a subtle sigh. “That was the tenth to ask for your favor, Your Grace” Tryion tried to point out casually, Rhaella sighing softly as she nodded “he was, yes.”

“I believe Ser Joer is familiar with Ser Kathrik, in your Queensgarde” Tyrion continued, Rhaella turning to look at him, ready to engage in the conversation when suddenly, someone had kneeled behind her seat and poked his head out by her side, in between the two and Rhaella smiled at who it was. “All that metal on the horses, it slows them down” Ezzo spoke casually yet in a lowered voice, Rhaella trying to hide her smirk as she looked ahead, watching Ser Jeor’s lance crash against his opponent’s shield, splintering the shield and some of the lance, yet her favor still hung over the shaft. “I’d rather the horses have protection than the men” she admitted in a quiet voice, Ezzo smirking at her with a nod “do you think all that metal they have on traps their cocks? I can’t imagine not being able to piss without needing to strip naked like a babe.”

“I’m guessing that they learn to hold it in” she whispered with amusement, looking up at Ezzo, their faces so close… she felt her heart race and her lips turn up in a small smile “they probably have more discipline than you, if you can’t even hold in your piss for a few minutes” she whispered and Daenerys, who had taken a sip of wine, almost spat it back out, choking on the wine and she coughed and coughed, Daron starting to cry and people turned to look, Rhaella quickly turning to her mother, patting her back with worry. “Mother? Mother??”

“I’m fine” she managed to get out and as soon as the coughing cleared, she was grinning, trying to hold in her laugh and Rhaella instantly paled, her eyes widening as she remembered one thing. Her mother could speak the Dothraki tongue. Rhaella quickly came over her shock when Jon called for some water and Rhaella gently took a crying Daron from Daenerys once the water was given to her, rocking the babe without even realising it, her focus solely on her mother. “Are you alright?” Rhaella asked, a smile forming on her lips when she saw that her mother was more than fine, and clearly amused. “My night’s sky” she scolded lightly and Rhaella couldn’t help but smirk a little, cheeks turning a little red as Daenerys laughed quietly, shaking her head at her daughter. Daenerys’ smile persisted and Rhaella began to frown, her eyes scanning her mother’s face, trying to figure out why she was still smiling so much. And then she remembered it. The weight in her arms, and she looked down, eyes widening a little and she winced ever so slightly “I-...” Rhaella’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, Daenerys smirking at her with amusement “my arms needed a rest. Thank you, Your Grace” she whispered, the tournament already back to how it was before, people cheering, lances clashing with shields and armour, people gasping when someone was knocked off their horse or injured, yet Rhaella felt nothing but the weight of the child in her arms. So small. So defenceless… how was it possible for a person to be this small? This… fragile?... It almost didn’t make sense…

“Khaleesi?” Ezzo whispered and she looked up at him, realising that she had been staring at her baby brother, heat flushing her cheeks as she looked back down at him, sleeping in her arms so peacefully. How was it possible for one person, so tiny, who has done nothing in their short, short life to deserve anything, how was it possible that this small being brought out so much love? She felt her chest warm the longer the looked at her brother, his small eyelashes kissing his cheeks so softly as he slept, as though the noise all around him, the cheering and clapping and chatter, didn’t bother him. It almost made her think he was dead, but the small rise and fall of his tiny chest proved otherwise, as did the small noises he occasionally let out, small coos, as though he was dreaming. “He’s so… small” she whispered to Ezzo, the Dothraki Screamer smirking at her “so were you, Khaleesi. I was three and ten but I still remember you” he admitted in a whisper and Rhaella smiled briefly, her eyes still locked on the precious babe. To her, this was the future of the Realm. She still believed she would be cast aside for him, when he came of age, and it still… pained her, to think of, but she’d do whatever she could to make sure this boy, this child, grew up safe and happy, content with his life, never wanting for anything. Not just because of the love she bore for their mother, not just because of the love she bore for her step-father, but for the love she bore for this little boy, the babe in her arms.

Daenerys and Jon watched with large smiles, the way the young Queen held her brother so gently, almost as though he would break, shatter into a million pieces like a White Walker against Valyrian steel, if she handled him the wrong way. She may have been a dragon, but she cradled that child as though it was a precious egg, it’s shell so fragile, protecting the life growing inside, and Daenerys could see it in her daughter’s eyes, she loved her brother. Her human brother. She had struggled so hard to love this child, her fears ruling her heart, preventing her from experiencing the joy of having a sibling, and not just being happy on her mother’s behalf. She loved this boy now, so little, so small and fragile. “Your Grace” Jon spoke, catching the Queen’s attention, the young woman turning to look at him and he smiled softly “shall I take him?” he asked, Rhaella’s smile fading and she looked down at the boy in her arms, her heart racing and she finally decided, gently shaking her head “n-no, it’s alright, I can hold him a while longer for you… i-if it’s alright?” she asked nervously and Jon merely nodded and smiled, leaning back in his seat to continue watching the tournament. It wasn’t exactly… his tastes… but this wasn’t about him. It was about his son, the idea still foreign to him, but in a good way. He had a son, and a daughter.

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“Your Grace, we’ve received further reports of pirates, they’ve seemed to taken roots by the harbour, this supposed… ‘Guild’ of theirs have continued to extort the local fishermen-”

“Thank you, My Lord” Rhaella stopped Tyrion, her eyes turning to Sandor Clegane “Lord Commander, what’s being done about this… ‘guild’? The people of King’s Landing are just as deserving of protection as the nobles in this keep.”

“I’ve sent my best men on it-”

“Good, now send your less-than-best men on it. And your bad men, and your piss-poor men” Rhaella ordered sternly, sighing heavily “the people of King’s Landing deserve safety. I want this ‘guild’ crushed. Their ships, do they harbour in King’s Landing as well?”

“Not quite, Your Grace. They harbour a few miles off the coast of the border between Dorne and the rest of Westeros, all attempts at sailing even close to them have been useless, they’ve-… it seems that they have scavenged an old Scorpion” Tyrion admitted, Rhaella turning her gaze to Tyrion, her heart starting to race. It was a… delicate topic for the Queen, everyone knew it. Daenerys had ordered the destruction of every Scorpion after ascending the throne, the wood splintered and burnt, the metal re-forged, the massive bolts melted and repurposed. Rhaella looked down at the table in front of her, hand fiddling with one of her rings, eyes locked onto the wood in front of her, yet she seemed miles away, almost as far away as those pirate ships were. The Small Council chamber was deadly quiet as the Queen thought things over. “This guild headquarters, do we know where it is?”

“Only that it’s somewhere near the docks” Sandor answered and Rhaella nodded, thinking things over once more before nodding, looking up at everyone at the small table. “Well, then I suppose there’s only one thing to do. Draw them out” she stated casually, nodding once again to herself, turning to Gray Worm “we’ll draw them out. Have your Unsullied scout out the docks, pretend like it’s a routine patrol. Don’t linger, just walk through, don’t stop and stare, take note of everything you can. Send out patrols in other areas as well, not just the docks, I want them all over the city to make it less conspicuous” she ordered, Gray Worm nodding and leaving, the others, except for Grand Maester Ricardo, who spoke High Valyrian, looked at the Queen with confusion. “I’ve ordered Gray Worm to patrol the streets all over King’s Landing, but to focus on the docks. I’ve asked them to merely patrol as though it’s routine but to pay attention to everything around them” she informed, turning to Sandor “your gold cloaks will do the same, all over the city. I don’t want this guild to know that we’re focusing on the docks, let them believe that their ‘secret’ hideout is safe, although we’ll of course be looking for them. Tell your gold cloaks to not act out of the ordinary but to pay special attention to anything unusual, anything at all, and then report back. They’re not to engage in anything they wouldn’t normally engage in, nor speak loudly of this assignment. Please, as soon as possible” she ordered calmly, Sandor nodding and standing up, bowing his head at the young Queen before leaving the room, Rhaella turning to Ser Brienne “I want an extra guard assigned to my mother, brother and father, should any from this guild have any… grand ideas.”

“Of course, Your Grace. What about yourself?”

“Me? I have the best swordswoman and Dothraki rider at my side. Aside from my brother Raemor, I couldn’t be safer” she stated with a soft smile before turning to Tyrion. “Do you agree with this plan so far, My Lord?”

“I do, Your Grace” Tyrion responded with a smirk “and, if I may add… battle strategy suits you” he whispered the last part, making her smirk a little as she nodded “thank you, My Lord. Meanwhile, I’d like you to get in contact with the Martells of Dorne, I want scouts to try and get closer to the ships these pirates have. Tell them that no one is to risk their lives” she ordered and Tyrion nodded “it will be done, Your Grace” he informed and bowed his head, making her nod “well, get to it, then” she urged playfully and he nodded and got out of his seat, bowing to the Queen before leaving, Rhaella turning to Grand Maester Ricardo “Grand Maester Ricardo, when you have time, I’ll be needing your presence in my chambers later” she ordered and stood up, the rest at the table stood up as well, Rhaella turning to Bronn next. “Ser Bronn, I ask that you keep an eye on the records and the royal treasury. Pirates have been known to have quite the light fingers, I don’t want them to get any ideas.”

“Smart. It’ll be done right away” he nodded and left, Rhaella letting out a subtle breath as she nodded “then I suppose this meeting is finished” she stated casually before leaving the council room, letting out a heavier sigh than before, hurrying to her room with Ezzo and Ser Brienne in tow, Ser Brienne standing guard outside, as usual, while Ezzo walked into the quarters with the Queen, as per usual. Usually he just stood guard by the doors while inside, so there was someone on each side of the double doors that led to the chambers of the Queen herself.

It wasn’t long until Ricardo was presented by Ser Brienne, letting the old Maester into the Queen’s chambers before closing the doors again, Rhaella putting down her book and walking over to the nearby table, watching Ricardo as he put his tray of instruments down on it. “Your Grace… Maester Tarly has been asking for permission to… learn from these routine visits” Ricardo admitted hesitantly, Rhaella tensing up, studying the instruments on the tray that she’d come to know all too well, thinking. “Ser Brienne!” Rhaella called, the Queensgarde commander peeking her head in and Rhaella looked up at her “send for Maester Tarly. And my handmaiden Falia” she ordered, Ser Brienne nodding as she closed the doors again. “Thank you, Your Grace. Maester Tarly is most eager to learn” Ricardo admitted as he got everything ready, Rhaella nodding to herself as she looked at Ezzo, nodding to him. It was a special kind of nod. The one asking him to step outside, as she asked him every single time the Grand Maester came to inspect her scales.

Soon, the doors opened to reveal Maester Tarly and Falia, the handmaiden smiling at her Queen, bowing her head in a curtsy before walking over, picking up a backless chair, bringing it over to the table and putting it down in front of the Queen while Grand Maester Ricardo finished everything. “Your Grace?” Falia asked softly in such a sweet voice, Rhaella giving her a nod, her eyes briefly moving to Sam in the room before looking ahead again, her back to both Maesters and Falia nodded. She moved to stand behind her Queen, reaching up and beginning to unfasten small secret latches, being careful and gentle, as always, her gentle movements mostly to try and put her Queen at ease. Soon the entire back of the Queen’s gown was either removed or hanging loose, exposing her down to the curves of her hips and a little past them, her shoulders and arms completely bare. Falia helped put up Rhaella’s hair so it was out of the way, goosebumps spreading out over Rhaella’s exposed skin, a combination of the sudden cold air and her unease. Falia glanced over her shoulder at the two Maesters, knowing that it was the presence of the younger one that made the Queen more uneasy than usual today. Falia stepped aside as she was done removing the clothes, Rhaella clinging to the rest of her gown at her front, no longer held in place completely. She moved to sit on the chair, Falia moving to stand a little in front of her Queen, subtly reaching out her hand and Rhaella hesitated before gripping it, holding up her gown with her remaining hand.

Rhaella could hear the way Sam’s breath hitched when he saw her back, her eyes shutting tightly at his reaction. Her scales had spread again, Grand Maester Ricardo saying that the area around the edges of her scales were red, irritated, the areas she could reach had small scabs on them from her scratching them, mostly when she was asleep and unaware of doing it, her skin pale and almost looked thin, Sam could see her ribs as she bent over a little, curling into herself, almost as though trying to hide from what was about to happen, as though she was expecting the pain. Her skin around and under her scales seemed to almost be raised a little from her bony back. “Samwell, hand me the prodder” Ricardo ordered softly and Sam obeyed, handing the instrument to the old Maester, watching with intrigue as Ricardo wobbled closer to Rhaella’s exposed back, gently poking and prodding the reddened area around the newly spread scales that had begun to move up her neck this time, towards her hairline, the small silver hairs at the nape of her neck, Rhaella tried not to hiss in pain, wincing, brows scrunched together as she didn’t make a single sound, Sam watching with a small frown.

Ricardo continued to inspect the scales and the area around them, as he always had, at one point he used a sharp knife, a scalpel, trying to delicate cut the scales, just a small nick, no pressure put on the blade, but it didn’t go through, as Ricardo seemed to have expected. “And they still itch, Your Grace?”

“And burn. They’ve begun to burn…” she admitted, Sam stepping a little closer, leaning in to survey the scales, Ricardo frowning at his apprentice. “What is it, Samwell?”

“Well, it’s just-... it’s like-... an allergic reaction” Sam admitted sheepishly and Rhaella couldn’t help but scoff, a bittersweet smile on her lips “an allergic reaction? I’m allergic to myself now?” she asked with feigned amusement, Sam studying the area more closely before shaking his head “no, it’s like… there’s something under the scales that you’re allergic to.”

“Maester Tarly, that’s my skin and flesh under there” she hissed, trying to hide the tears in her golden eyes, Falia holding her hand still, clutching it tightly to comfort her Queen. “If I could just-... take a look, Your Grace?”

“How?”

“If you’d allow me to make a small incision-”

“Absolutely not!” Ricardo gasped with outrage, shaking his head “I’ve told you, explicitly, that you may have removed Grayscales by scalpel but that is not the right way to treat-”

“Let him try” Rhaella interrupted, her head raised a little more this time, looking over her shoulder at the two Maesters. “Tyres Westford tried to carve off one of my scales, Maester Tarly. For that, my dragon ate him, burnt him. I trust you know what you’re doing” she warned briefly before looking ahead again, clutching Falia’s hand even tighter. “I’ll fetch some milk of the poppy-”

“No.”

“Your Grace… it’ll be quite painful-”

“No milk of the poppy” she ordered again, glanicng up at Falia who gave her Queen a soft nod. I’m here with you, that nod said, and the Queen nodded in return, thank you, it said.

This was going to hurt, both of them knew it, but it couldn’t get any worse, could it? Her scales were sensitive and ached, the skin red and sore and irritated, the itching driving her to madness, it made her lose her appetite, the maddening itch that she just couldn’t scratch, she lost sleep, unable to sleep on her back, tossing and turning and trying to forget about the sore and itchy feeling all along her spine.

This was going to hurt, but it couldn’t get any worse.

The first touch of the blade made her flinch, the coldness of it like a soothing balm to the itchy burn she felt, and then came the icy sharp feeling, the tip of the blade tucked under the edge of one of her scales on her upper back. Her hand gripped Falia’s so tight that it almost cut off the blood circulation, and yet she didn’t make a single sound. She panted as she felt the blade go in further, the feeling both burning and icy cold at the same time, the feeling of the blade cutting her skin, reminding her of Tyres… of what he tried to do, and then… relief… Her eyes shot open as she felt something trail down her back that joined her life’s blood. “Seven above…” Ricardo muttered, Rhaella about to ask what was going on when she felt something push down on her scales and around where the cut was made, her breath stuck in her throat and her eyes shut tightly again, the pressing down continuing, and yet she didn’t make a sound. She panted, gasped, heaved for breath, but she never whimpered, never cried out in pain. “What’s going on?” Falia asked when she realised that her Queen wasn’t able to ask again herself, Ricardo frowning up at her before turning around to get cloth after cloth, helping Sam with something along the Queen’s back. “There was an infection under the edge of the scales. It must have spread along the ridges” Ricardo admitted as Sam continued to press. Falia leaned over and almost gasped at what she saw. Pus. Yellow pus, flooding out of the small incision with the life blood of her Queen, who was still clutching her hand tightly as Sam continued to press out the pus. After a while, Sam stepped back a little, Ricardo wiping the area again and Rhaella eased up her grip on Falia’s hand. “How’s that, Your Grace?” Sam asked and Rhaella turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. She was tired, sweat covering her forehead and she nodded, wincing a little as she tried to look over her shoulder at her back. “Better… but, I still feel pain…”

“I suspect it’s along the entirety of your scales, Your Grace” Sam informed with a wince and Rhaella tensed up before nodding “then it seems I best lay down, if you are to get all of it… and that milk of the poppy…”

“I’ll go get it, Your Grace. Sam, you begin” Ricardo ordered quickly, Falia helping Rhaella stand, Sam blinking at Ricardo who left in a hurry before looking back at the Queen as Falia helped her to a more comfortable seat. “Will the table do, Maester Tarly?” Falia asked sweetly and Sam hesitated before nodding “yes, it’ll do nicely, thank you” he stuttered out and Falia nodded, beginning to work on removing items off of the table to prepare it, the nice tablecloth removed and folded neatly on one of the chairs, all the chairs having been pulled back from the table. Falia moved to the large canopy bed in the back of the room, past a few thin curtains that sectioned off the area. She returned with the sheets, putting them out on the table, patting it down before walking back to Rhaella, helping her stand and walk over to the table, helping her lay down on her stomach, moving and bustling about to keep the Queen as covered as possible, to preserve her modesty. As she laid there, Sam got a closer look at her thin back. The Queen always wore clothes that covered her body mostly, gowns with long sleeves, yet it never seemed suspicious or out of place.

“Your Grace, if I may… you appear rather-... thin-”

“If that is the topic you wish to speak of, then you may not” she spoke coldly, arms under her head on the pillow, chin resting upon them as she stared out at nothing in particular, Fali glancing awkwardly at Sam, just as Ricardo returned with milk of the poppy, giving some of the dosage to the Queen, who downed it and nodded to them, Ricardo nodding back at her, picking up the tray with instruments that Falia had moved, placing it back on the table before picking up the scalpel, cleaning it off before beginning to make another incision a little lower than the last. He nodded Sam over to help him, the two starting to get to work. After each draining, she felt relief in that area, her eyes shut tightly, her hand clutching Falia’s. After a while, the two Maesters appeared pleased with their work, Ricardo praising Sam for his discovery, the modest Sam trying to brush it off as simple luck, looking at the right place at the right time, while Rhaella was deadly quiet. Ricardo looked at Falia who glanced at the door and Ricardo nodded. “Alright, Samwell, let’s leave the Queen to get dressed, she has many duties, after all” he stated politely, bowing at the Queen as she laid on her stomach on the table, Sam doing the same before leaving, Rhaella looking up at Falia who gave her a sweet smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better… but it may be the milk of the poppy” she admitted and Falia nodded with a smile “well, let’s get you dressed then, Your Grace” she offered, helping the Queen off the table to get dressed and continue with her day and duties.

[thedragonbloody]

~ Fire & Love ~

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CHAPTER 6

Rhaenyra

For many moons, the fear of motherhood loomed over Rhaenyra like an unsettling shadow. The annals of her house revealed the heavy burden that pregnancy carried, particularly through the painful records of her own mother, Aemma Arryn. The queen, a beloved maternal figure, found herself ensnared in the intricacies of childbirth from the earliest days of her union with King Viserys Targaryen.

Aemma, like all women, bore the duty of producing an heir, and she experienced a tragic cycle of broken promises, with successive miscarriages extinguishing the light of her hopes. Amidst these shadows, a son was born, only to encounter the fleeting light of the world before returning to the darkness of an empty cradle.

Aemma's torments, a mother whose heart was entwined with hope and sorrow, cast a shadow that Rhaenyra would feel for a long time. Each attempt to give birth, an act imbued with longings and fears, carried with it the memory of her mother's shed tears.

In King Viserys’s deep desire for a son, Aemma embarked on a final journey, a pregnancy shrouded in hope and apprehension. The fruit of this desire was a son named Baelon, in honor of the king’s father. However, cruel fate conspired that the child would share with his mother only a brief breath of life, leaving Viserys grieving a double loss.

Rhaenyra's story, thus, was interwoven with the fragile threads of motherhood, where joy and pain danced in a delicate and unpredictable waltz. To be a mother in this world meant more than simply nurturing and guiding children; it was a burden of responsibilities, a web of duties and expectations.

Rhaenyra, despite being the princess heir, was not immune to the hindrances of motherhood. Her children were heirs destined to bear the weight of leadership, and with each birth, she felt the burden of lineage upon her shoulders, a responsibility manifested in the inquisitive gazes of the court.

Motherhood for the princess was not all sweetness; it was a mix of love and high expectations. She watched her children grow, not just as individuals but as key pieces in the complex game of power in Westeros, just as she and others before her had been. Each counsel was a guide to a destiny charted from birth.

For Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, motherhood was a delicate balance between duty and love, between guiding and allowing freedom. In her eyes, there reflected not only the ancestral fire of dragons but also the burning flame of motherhood that transcended the splendor of thrones and crowns.

Because of this, she cared deeply for each of her children, fostering their desires and ambitions, yet always firm in the position they occupied. Marrying Ser Laenor Velaryon had once seemed a necessary decision, appearing as a transaction of convenience, a necessary arrangement on the board of power and Valyrian lineage. From the start, even before considering Laenor as a potential husband, Rhaenyra recognized the whispers that echoed about him. These whispers fed the uncertainty in her mind’s corridors, making her question whether harmony could exist between them.

However, over time, as layers of Laenor were unveiled before her, Rhaenyra discovered more than a mere consort; she found a companion, a friend, and, surprisingly, a confidant. Despite his idiosyncrasies, Ser Laenor revealed himself as someone with whom the princess could share laughter and even secrets.

What had initially been approached with skepticism transformed into a peculiar partnership, where the imperfections of both blended to create a truly unique union. She recognized that Ser Laenor Velaryon brought with him the unique and inconsequential essence characteristic of House Velaryon. This peculiarity, almost unpredictable, was an intrinsic part of her dear companion. She knew that, somehow, this unique characteristic of the Velaryons had passed on to one of her daughters, like a magical link connecting the generations.

Despite this inconsequential nature, Laenor Velaryon embraced Jacaerys and Lucerys as his own sons with remarkable tenderness. His love was not limited to blood ties but embraced the bond formed through affection and companionship. Jacaerys and Lucerys were, to Laenor, as truly his children as they were Rhaenyra’s, and he cared for them as a dedicated father.

There was a tacit understanding that transcended conventional boundaries. Rhaenyra deeply respected Laenor’s varied and peculiar loves, knowing that his heart was a vast and diverse terrain, with space for many forms of affection.

And secretly, in the most protected corner of her heart, Rhaenyra harbored a forbidden love for Ser Harwin Strong. This was her most well-guarded secret, a burning fire that blazed in her soul but remained hidden from the world’s eyes. And, surprisingly, Laenor, with his unique sensitivity and rare understanding, respected this silent love.

Ser Harwin Strong was the object of this forbidden love, and even though he remained in the shadows, his presence was felt deeply in the princess’s heart. From this clandestine bond, which escaped the eyes of the court and society, fruits were born.

As she gazed upon the faces of her children, Rhaenyra experienced a whirlwind of emotions. Though the circumstances of this relationship were complicated and the secrets were burdensome, the bond between mother and children was undeniable.

Rhaenyra felt the profound joy of being a mother, a sensation that surpassed her fears. Her children were silent proofs of an intense love she concealed from the court’s critical eyes. Every laugh, every curious look bore the indelible mark of the connection she shared with Ser Harwin.

At the same time, the princess could not ignore the inherent challenges of the situation. Malicious whispers were like poisoned arrows, pointing to the supposed stain on her honor.

Rhaenyra, however, was a woman of iron determination, willing to face the obstacles life imposed on her. Each malicious word, each look of reproach, she met with the haughtiness of a true Targaryen. She knew the truth, understood the love that burned in her chest and had given birth to the children so harshly criticized.

The princess was resilient in the face of accusations, but she could not deny that, in the depths of her heart, the cruel words echoed with an intensity that hurt. The unforgiving society of the court fed gossip like a voracious creature, and Rhaenyra feared that even her strength had its limits.

In the silent nights, when the curtains of the fortress closed, the princess held her children in her arms and wondered if they would ever truly escape the whispers about their legitimacy.

The true heir to the throne was Rhaenyra, and Viserys’s acceptance, the king, further strengthened her children’s position as legitimate members of House Targaryen. On many occasions, the king himself expressed his confidence in Jacaerys’s future reign, disregarding any unfounded doubts the court might raise.

Rhaenyra was aware that the controversy extended beyond mere offense; she perceived that the core of the issue lay in the audacity of a woman to lie with another man. If she were a man, the court’s voices would be silenced.

Her children were as Targaryen as she was, and the love that united them was a flame that burned more intensely than the palace gossip could extinguish.

Maternal love was unwavering and unconditional.

— Mama?

Lucerys was known for his caring and gentle nature. His empathy and compassion made him beloved not only by his mother but by those around him. His deep brown eyes had a certain sparkle. Rhaenyra always found him a joyful boy, and his smile was as sweet as fresh berries.

He was an adorable boy but, deep down, very brave. He was courageous when needed and naturally gentle with those he deeply loved.

— Yes, Luke? What is it?

She smiled at the boy as they walked hand in hand down the corridor.

— Do you think Arrax will grow quickly? — His eyes lit up.

— Arrax may take his own time, dear. But I’m sure he’ll be as big as Syrax one day.

— Really?! — he exclaimed. — Syrax is so beautiful!

— Yes, she indeed is…

— She suits you, mama! You’re very pretty too.

Rhaenyra smiled joyfully.

— Thank you, my sweet boy.

Suddenly, the castle corridor was abruptly invaded by the distinctive sound of King Viserys’s rhythmic cane strikes against the stone floor. Each impact was a ceremonial echo, announcing the monarch’s imposing arrival. The sound was accompanied by the metallic cadence of the Kingsguard’s white cloaks, with the firm posture of Harrold Westerling and Erryk Cargyll, all marching in perfect synchronization behind the king.

Rhaenyra, upon hearing the familiar sound, looked up, noticing the approach of the king and his entourage. Her heart beat with a mixture of reverence and familiarity, for she recognized in that sound not just the royal presence but also the figure of her father. The metallic clink of the Kingsguard’s armor added a solemn weight to the chorus of sounds filling the corridor.

As King Viserys came into view, his cane striking unmistakably, Rhaenyra made a graceful bow, Lucerys at her side following her example.

— Good morning, Your Grace.

— Good morning, Majesty — said the little prince.

The princess noticed as her father’s face softened into a fond smile, easing the lines of worry that marked his expression.

The king’s smile was like a beam of light, illuminating not only his face but also the surroundings. His eyes, once serious and piercing, gained a warm glow as he greeted his daughter and grandson.

— Good morning, my dear Rhaenyra. Good morning, Lucerys — the king greeted with a voice that conveyed not just authority but also a tone of affection. His smile revealed the tenderness he held for his family. A simple gesture, a good morning spoken with warmth and affection.

King Viserys Targaryen, still smiling, joined his daughter and grandson in the corridor lit by high windows, echoing with the soft sounds of the Kingsguard’s steps and the light scrape of the cane.

— And where are we heading today, Rhaenyra? — Viserys asked with curiosity, maintaining a calm and regal pace.

Rhaenyra, walking beside her father, replied with a light smile.

— The small hall, Your Grace. Breakfast awaits us there. Jace and Lys have already gone ahead, but Rhaella… well, you know how she is. I think she’s still in the gardens, lost among the flowers or trying to tame some horse in the stables.

The king laughed softly, the melody of his laughter blending with the echo of the corridor.

— Yes, yes, my little Rhaella has a free spirit. Let it be. If she’s too late, Harrold can guide her to us. — The king breathed deeply and sighed as if recalling an earlier time. — Your grandmother, Alyssa, had a remarkable presence. A truly notable woman. I miss the times when she walked these corridors.

The king’s gaze shifted to Rhaenyra, and an affectionate smile lit up his wrinkled face.

— Rhaella has the same flame in her eyes. A blend of fire and freedom. Alyssa would have been proud to have a descendant like her.

The princess smiled proudly.

— Indeed, Your Grace. Sometimes I think she has a spirit as untamed as my grandmother’s. Certainly, there’s no boredom when she’s around. — The princess looked solemnly at the king. — Lord Corlys might want to disagree, according to him, Rhaella is more like him.

— Well, he’s not entirely wrong. She is a true mix of Velaryon and Targaryen — Viserys laughed in agreement. — Vhaelys, on the other hand, is much like you. She has the same boldness, the burning flame I saw in you when you were younger. And, of course, there’s a spark of your mother in her. Aemma had a good heart but was fierce, with a great sense of duty. She would be proud of you and your children. I have no doubts.

Rhaenyra cast a thoughtful look at her father.

— I miss her…

The shadows of the past danced on the stone corridors. Viserys’s gaze, though firm, reflected a melancholy that only the passage of time could create. Their mourning was a shared journey, though lived in solitude. And as they faced the dark days, there was hope that, with time, the pain would diminish and the light of acceptance and transformation would begin to penetrate through the clouds of grief, illuminating the hearts of Rhaenyra and Viserys once again.

— There are days when I miss Aemma so intensely that it’s as if my own heart remembers the void she left.

Rhaenyra nodded, understanding the longing they both shared.

— The castle seemed brighter when she was here.

Viserys smiled, recalling the days when happiness lit every corner of the castle.

— Yes, she brought a light with her. Her laughter filled the corridors like a joyful melody. Sometimes, I still feel as if she’s around. As if time cannot completely erase her essence.

Rhaenyra held her father’s hand, sharing the silent lament.

— Aemma lives in our memories and in the lineage she helped create. You, my daughter, and my grandchildren carry her flame, each in a unique way.

Rhaenyra gently squeezed her father’s hand.

— She is gone, but her legacy continues. Her teachings shaped me. We are living witnesses to what she left behind.

— What was grandmother like?

Lucerys broke the momentary silence with a delicate question.

Rhaenyra and Viserys exchanged looks, recognizing the curiosity and tenderness in the prince’s words.

— My boy, she was a remarkable woman. Your grandmother brought light and warmth to this castle, and her absence is still felt by all of us.

Lucerys nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and fascination.

— Did she like to tell stories? Did she play with you, mama?

Rhaenyra smiled, recalling the days of her childhood when Aemma’s presence lit up the castle.

— Oh, your grandmother was amazing. She had a contagious laugh, and we always gathered to tell stories before bed. We played in the gardens when I was as little as you.

Viserys placed a gentle hand on his grandson’s shoulder.

— She was an extraordinary woman, Luke. Her love shaped this house, and her spirit lives in each of us. Your eyes share the same gentle sparkle as hers.

Prince Lucerys nodded, feeling connected to a part of history he only knew through his family’s stories. The silence that followed now carried the weight of past generations and the echo of a love that had transcended time.

Rhaella

Rhaella’s dress unfolded in shades of black and blue, evoking the unique beauty of the ocean’s depths. The deep black, like the darkest night, was intertwined with hues of celestial blue, creating a tapestry of colors that seemed to dance in the morning light streaming through the bedroom windows. Intricate embroidered details, resembling the bony plates of a seahorse, adorned the sleeves and hem of the dress. The skirt flowed like the dark waters of the ocean, creating an image of grace and fluidity.

Ser Laenor assisted in the task of dressing her, trying to handle the delicate fastenings and ties of the dress. The air was filled with urgency, intensified by the growing lateness.

— If you don’t stay still, dear, I won’t be able to tie this thing.

— Right. Sorry! — the princess’s leg wouldn’t stop swinging.

As Laenor finished the last adjustments, Rhaella prepared to brush her hair and dry it as quickly as possible.

The echo of boots resounded in the stone corridor, and it was only when they reached the door of the room that the princess’s breath caught. The door opened, and inquisitive eyes scanned the room for something or someone. Ser Harwin’s face changed into a courteous smile upon seeing Ser Laenor assisting Rhaella with her preparations.

With a respectful bow, Ser Harwin greeted them both and closed the door behind him.

— Good morning, Ser Laenor. I hope everything is in order here. — One of his eyebrows arched.

— Good morning, Ser Harwin. Everything is under control, but I will need your help to find Rhaella’s towel and shoes.

— Of course, at your service. — He faced the princess. — Good morning, Princess.

— Good morning, Ser Harwin... — she smiled playfully.

— Princess Rhaenyra asked me to find you, could you tell me where you were this time? — he approached the screen and grabbed a towel, handing it to Ser Laenor.

— Oh, it’s a secret. I can’t tell.

Ser Laenor and Ser Harwin exchanged amused looks.

— Princess Rhaenyra was worried — he lifted some strands from the princess’s forehead. — And it seems with good reason.

The girl pulled the strands back to cover the bruise and signaled him not to speak about it.

— It’s nothing, just a scratch. Don’t tell Mama, okay?

Ser Harwin knelt and put the shoes on the girl’s feet, laughing gently.

— I can’t lie if she asks.

— She won’t ask if you don’t say anything!

— Rhae, don’t put the commander in a difficult situation — Ser Laenor said as he finished braiding the girl’s hair. — He’s not wrong, you know.

The girl pouted.

— I know, I know.

— Are we very late? — Ser Laenor asked.

— It seems the king and queen are taking a bit longer. You still have some time to get to the small hall.

— Alright, it looks like we’re done. If we hurry, we can get there before our absence is noticed.

Vhaelys

In an era where shrewd glances and sharp speculations were the currency, Vhaelys began to cunningly devise a way to cover up Rhaella’s tardiness. It was evident that something was afoot, a furtive escapade that needed to be skillfully concealed.

— Ah, Daeron, you know how Rhaella is. Sometimes she likes to take her time. She must be getting ready, I’m sure.

Daeron raised an eyebrow, suspicious, and Jacaerys joined the conversation.

— Maybe she lost track of time while admiring her own reflection in the mirror.

Vhaelys laughed, trying to divert attention from the matter.

— You both know how she is. Always late, but always charming when she finally shows up.

At that moment, Aegon Targaryen entered the small hall with an air of nonchalance, but his tired violet eyes and the dark circles beneath them indicated a long and perhaps tumultuous night. His silver-gold hair, usually meticulously arranged, was now slightly disheveled, suggesting a certain lack of care in his appearance.

With a relaxed posture, Aegon wore an ironic smile on his lips, as if always on the brink of a sarcastic joke. His eyes, despite the fatigue, retained a spark of liveliness, indicating that even after a turbulent night, he could still maintain a certain sharpness.

Vhaelys, observing him, couldn’t help but roll her eyes. To her, Aegon represented volatility and lack of commitment. His erratic behavior often put his siblings in complicated situations, and his nights of excess and endless parties were a constant source of exasperation for Vhaelys.

As he approached, she couldn’t help but frown at the signs of fatigue on his face. It was a familiar sight but no less irritating. The relationship between the two was marked by constant friction, as Vhaelys had little patience for her uncle’s impulsive attitudes.

Even though Vhaelys disagreed with many of Aegon’s actions, there was still a blood bond that connected them, and she could not entirely ignore his presence.

Noticing the conversation between his brother and nephews, Aegon interjected, as usual, with a mischievous smile.

— Wasting time on trivialities as always? Our lovely Rhaella seems to enjoy the company of animals — the prince grabbed a goblet of wine and served himself. — Sometimes I fear she thinks she is one of them.

Vhaelys, visibly irritated by the unpleasant remark, replied firmly.

— Mind your own business, Aegon. Rhaella’s reasons should not concern you.

— Oh, Vhaelys, always so defensive. I was just making a light observation. — Aegon, keeping his ironic expression, retorted. — No need to be so serious.

Vhaelys’s expression hardened, and she replied firmly.

— Your observations are rarely harmless, uncle. Perhaps if you cared more about your responsibilities than your bad jokes and drowning in wine, you’d have fewer problems.

Aegon laughed, approached his niece slowly, and flicked her forehead.

— You’re quite the little know-it-all, aren’t you?

— Don’t try to provoke her, Aegon. It wouldn’t end well for you. Believe me — Jacaerys tried to ease the tension, smiling. — Rhaella will arrive when she arrives, and in the meantime, we can discuss more important matters. For instance, will you be practicing with me later at the Dragonpit?

— I’m not too concerned about the harsh words of a brat. — He smiled ironically. — She just needs to learn to have a sense of humor.

— It’s just advice — Jacaerys said calmly. — Now, about the practice at the Dragonpit, what do you think, Aegon? You said you’d give me some tips.

— Alright, Jace. — Aegon shrugged and sighed — I’d love to show you and everyone how it’s done.

Vhaelys, still irritated by Aegon’s earlier comment, decided to intervene.

— I just hope you can stay mounted this time, uncle. We wouldn’t want to have to rescue a Targaryen from the Dragonpit.

— We’ll see, Vhaelys. Maybe you’ll even learn something by watching — Aegon laughed, seeming unconcerned by the provocation.

Jacaerys rolled his eyes, and Daeron smiled subtly from the other side of the table.

— Could you two go a minute without annoying each other? — Jacaerys commented wearily.

As the tension hung in the room, the door to the small hall opened again, and Queen Alicent entered accompanied by Prince Aemond and Princess Helaena. Her dark eyes, however, carried a calculating and observant expression. The queen cast a piercing look around the room, immediately noticing the tense atmosphere. Her eyes rested a moment longer than usual on Aegon, and she sighed inwardly.

Everyone rose from their chairs in respect.

— Good morning, everyone — Alicent greeted with calculated serenity, ignoring the palpable hostility. — It seems I’m missing an animated conversation.

— Nothing much, mother. Just discussing practice at the Dragonpit — Aegon tried to ease the atmosphere. — For the upcoming event.

Vhaelys observed the queen consort with a mix of respect and caution.

The queen’s expression was a blend of dignity and shrewdness, as if she were carefully weaving the threads of the political game in her mind. Her eyes, though observing every movement in the room, maintained an apparent calm.

— Nonetheless, we have many matters to discuss today. Let us sit and wait for the king.

Seated at the table, the queen directed her keen gaze toward Vhaelys, seemingly noticing the absence of some members of the royal family. Her voice, soft and controlled, broke the silence as she addressed Princess Velaryon.

— Vhaelys, my dear, it seems the royal family is incomplete at this breakfast. Where are the others?

Vhaelys, aware of the queen’s ability to probe and seek information, responded in a carefully neutral tone.

— They are on their way, my queen. They must be attending to some matters before joining us.

Alicent smiled, but her eyes retained their intensity.

— Matters? Interesting. I would like to know more about these matters.

Vhaelys felt the pressure of the words but remained firm.

— Of course, my queen. But some issues take time to be addressed and are not so important as to demand Your Majesty’s attention. It’s unnecessary to worry.

Alicent tilted her head slightly, as if evaluating the princess’s words.

— Oh, dear. You are so young, but so eloquent with words. But united families share their burdens, Vhaelys. I see no reason to keep secrets among us. No matter is less important when it concerns the family.

Vhaelys perceived the shrewdness behind Alicent’s words and, determined to preserve the family’s privacy, responded with respect but firmness.

— Thank you, Your Majesty, I work hard on my studies. But allow me to explain. You are right, we are a family. The issue mentioned is that my mother is quite particular about formalities. She believes it is crucial that we are properly dressed and presentable when receiving guests, especially in the presence of nobility. It’s a matter of respect, a care to ensure that our appearance does not disgrace Your Grace. — Vhaelys paused, choosing her words carefully. — My father and my sister, Rhaella, are following my mother’s instructions to ensure everyone is properly prepared. It’s a process that takes some time, as my mother also insists on preparing Lucerys, but I’m sure they will join us soon. Thank you for your patience, Your Majesty.

Vhaelys kept her gaze steady, showing confidence in her words, as she awaited Alicent’s reaction to the justification she had created to protect her family.

Alicent, although maintaining an impassive expression, stared at Vhaelys for a brief moment before responding.

— Princess Rhaenyra is indeed meticulous. I expected no less from her. However, Vhaelys, do not forget that punctuality is a virtue appreciated at court. Whether at important events or a simple breakfast, it is essential that everyone is present. — The queen paused and looked around before continuing. — I hope the delay is not frequent. King Viserys and other members of the court have their expectations. Be mindful of these details. Now, while we wait, perhaps we can discuss some lighter matters. How have your recent days been for you and your siblings?

The queen looked at Jacaerys and Vhaelys, seeking answers.

— The days have been quite busy, my lady. As always, we are dedicated to our studies and training, striving to meet the expectations of the court and our family — replied the princess.

Alicent nodded approvingly, but her expression remained cold.

— It is good to hear that you are dedicated. You are the future generation of House Targaryen and Velaryon, and it is important that you are prepared for the challenges ahead. I certainly expect a lot from each of you.

Vhaelys and Jacaerys nodded respectfully, striving to hide any discomfort they might feel under the queen’s intense scrutiny.

— Yes, Your Majesty. We are aware of the responsibility that falls upon us.

As the conversation continued, Vhaelys realized she would have to deal with Queen Alicent’s expectations, who seemed attentive to every word and movement. Breakfast promised to be a challenging occasion, and Vhaelys hoped that the arrival of her mother and the other family members would alleviate the tension hanging over the small hall.

— Jacaerys, I’ve heard that you’ve been dedicated to your studies lately. They say your sword skills are standing out. How do you feel about that process?

Vhaelys felt a growing discomfort from the intense way Queen Alicent directed her gaze at Jacaerys. The atmosphere in the small hall became tense as the queen’s eyes scrutinized every detail of the heir prince.

Jacaerys, aware of the special attention he was receiving and the uncomfortable dynamics in the room, responded politely.

— Thank you for your words, my queen. I strive to improve my skills daily, following the example of great knights.

Alicent nodded, but the princess noticed as the queen's gaze intensified.

— Oh, that's wonderful, dear. And which knights might serve as your example?

Vhaelys shifted uncomfortably in her seat, fearing where this conversation might lead. Jacaerys was clever, but often she found him too naive. She was not like that — she suspected everything.

But before Vhaelys could say anything, the queen's eldest son spoke up.

— Mother, I heard we will have the honor of the Lady of House Arryn's presence. The Maiden of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn, if I'm not mistaken...

Alicent diverted her gaze from Jacaerys and responded to Aegon's query, changing the tone of the conversation.

— Yes, that's true. Lady Jeyne Arryn's presence is always notable, and we will also have the presence of Lord Belmore's son. Lady Jeyne comes accompanied by Carsen Belmore. We must receive our guests with all courtesy.

A solemn creak was heard as the doors of the hall opened. The sound echoed through the room, bringing sudden attention to all present. The noise of the hinges was like a prelude to the king Viserys’s grand entrance, and the doors parted to admit the royal figure. All present rose from their seats in a respectful synchrony, as if moved by a single will to honor the monarch. The soft rustling of garments, the slight scraping of chairs being pushed back, and the gradual fading of conversations composed a discreet symphony of reverence.

Beside the king, Vhaelys saw her mother, Princess Rhaenyra, walking gracefully. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her gaze, though serene, carried nobility. She radiated a strong, regal presence, as befitted an heir to the Iron Throne.

And beside the princess, Vhaelys’s younger brother, Lucerys, displayed a noble bearing despite his youth. His eyes reflected curiosity and excitement for the family breakfast. Vhaelys found him endearing.

The momentary silence that followed, filled only by the soft sound of the doors closing, resonated like an echo of the court’s reverence for the king.

— Good morning to all — greeted Viserys with a firm yet cheerful voice. — I hope we can enjoy today’s breakfast.

Vhaelys observed her grandfather with a mix of respect and curiosity. His once golden-silver hair was beginning to show the marks of time, nearly white with the passage of years. Each silver strand seemed to tell ancient tales, memories of battles and decisions that shaped the Seven Kingdoms.

Illness and advanced age had left their marks, but they had not erased the dignity he carried. The royal mantle, embroidered with symbols of dragons and crowns, fell elegantly over his shoulders. His now more serene eyes still conveyed the wisdom accumulated over the years. They swept the hall with a mix of authority and affection, as if each face present was a distinct chapter of his story.

The cane that had become his constant companion tapped rhythmically on the ground. Each tap seemed to echo the weight of the responsibility he bore, while his presence emanated an aura that commanded respect.

The sight of the aging king leaning on his cane evoked a deep sense of duty and loyalty in Vhaelys, reinforcing the responsibility she felt as a member of House Targaryen.

— Good morning, my king. How did you pass the night? — Alicent inclined her head in greeting, her lips curving into a subtle smile.

Her good morning to the king was spoken with a serene voice, but her eyes betrayed her shrewdness.

Viserys responded with a warm greeting, while Vhaelys noted the exchange of glances between the king and queen.

— The night was calm, my queen. — Viserys replied, leaning slightly on his cane. — How is everyone this morning?

Alicent cast a quick glance over the assembled, including Vhaelys, with an expression that was hard to decipher. Vhaelys knew that behind the courtesy, there was always a web of potential intrigues.

— Everything is proceeding as it should, my king. Everyone is eagerly anticipating the upcoming events.

Vhaelys noticed Alicent’s skill in conveying much with few words. It was as if each sentence was a calculated move in a game of chess, and Vhaelys wondered if she would ever master such an art.

The queen extended a greeting to Princess Rhaenyra with a blend of grace and diplomacy. Vhaelys watched with keen attention, knowing that every interaction between her mother and the queen consort was part of an elaborate performance.

— Good morning, princess. How did you pass the night? — Alicent inquired, her voice sounding melodious, but with an undertone of assessment behind the words.

Rhaenyra, in turn, responded with a polite smile, skillfully masking any resentment she might feel. Her demeanor revealed a mixture of courtesy and reserve, aware of the delicacy of courtly relations.

— Good morning, Your Majesty. The night was calm. Thank you for your kindness in asking — replied the heir princess, maintaining an elevated posture, as befits a princess.

Vhaelys noticed the exchange of glances between the two women, a silent game of courtesy. No matter how much Alicent tried to maintain a facade of cordiality, her presence was a constant reminder of the political complexities that permeated everyone.

As the interaction between her mother and the queen consort unfolded, her eyes swept the hall for the arrival of her sister Rhaella and her father, Ser Laenor. Their delay did not go unnoticed, and Vhaelys felt the tension growing around her.

King Viserys Targaryen, supported by his cane and maintaining the dignity of his position, moved to the central place at the table. As conversations continued, the princes and princesses took their designated seats, and the small hall began to take on an air of formality. With a respectful bow, the monarch took his seat, assuming the prominent position.

The table was adorned with fine dishes, silverware, and crystal goblets. Skilled servants began to bring delicacies, filling the table with a variety of savory foods. The atmosphere of the hall was imbued with a mix of anticipation and respect as everyone awaited the start of the royal breakfast.

The tension increased as the queen took her place and cast inquisitive glances around. Queen Alicent Hightower followed the etiquette with grace and elegance, sitting beside the king, complementing his presence with authority. Vhaelys felt the queen’s eyes on her mother, as if trying to decipher the secrets behind Rhaella and Laenor’s delay.

The doors of the hall finally opened, but it was neither Rhaella nor Laenor who entered, only the knights changing their shifts. And Queen Alicent, in turn, did not waste any time and went straight to the point.

— I notice that some of our dear family members are absent. Where are Princess Rhaella and Ser Laenor, Princess Rhaenyra?

Vhaelys gripped the skirts of her dress anxiously. And watched her mother closely, waiting for her response. Rhaenyra, though maintaining her dignity, did not hide a trace of discomfort in her expression.

— My queen, Ser Laenor and Rhaella will join us shortly. They had some setbacks but are on their way.

Vhaelys could feel the tension hanging in the air, and every word exchanged in that small hall seemed laden with meaning.

— Punctuality is a virtue we expect all in the royal family to cultivate. It is important that everyone be present before the king.

— I apologize, Your Majesty. I understand the importance of punctuality, but I also believe that being well-presented is of equal relevance. I hope you can understand.

Alicent nodded with a slight smile, but Vhaelys could perceive the subtle suspicion in the queen's eyes.

— Indeed, princess. It is essential that we all align with the court's expectations. However, punctuality is a manifestation of respect to those present and a demonstration of discipline and organization. This is particularly crucial for the royal family, as it serves as an example to the entire realm. I also hope you understand this.

— Certainly, Your Majesty. I will ensure that these words are conveyed to both of them.

Rhaenyra’s response did not seem to fully satisfy Alicent, who maintained her gaze for a moment before nodding with a swift gesture.

King Viserys Targaryen intervened in the conversation between the queen and the princess. His countenance, though marked by age, still reflected authority and wisdom.

— Alicent, my dear, we should not be too harsh with the children. Let them enjoy their youth — he touched his wife’s hand and paused before continuing. — They will soon have enough responsibilities.

Alicent, maintaining a firm stance, responded to the king's remark.

— With all due respect, my king, punctuality is a virtue that should be cultivated from an early age. Discipline is fundamental, even in youth.

Viserys, however, displayed an indulgent smile, defending the lighter stance on the issues raised.

— I understand the importance of discipline, Alicent, but we must also allow the children to have fun. Rhaella will have time for that, my dear. Let my grandchildren’s childhood be filled with joy. Responsibilities will come soon enough; there is no rush.

Alicent, though maintaining her posture, yielded to the king’s firmness.

Vhaelys watched intently as the doors of the small hall opened, allowing the entrance of Princess Rhaella and her father, Ser Laenor Velaryon. The atmosphere in the room subtly shifted, and eyes turned to the newcomers.

Vhaelys noted the subtle disapproval on Queen Alicent Hightower’s face at the delay, but the king Viserys’s earlier intervention had somewhat eased the tension in the room.

Rhaella, with her distinct grace and beauty, wore a dress in deep black and blues — Vhaelys quickly identified the dress and smiled. Her silver hair was delicately styled in a long braid.

Beside her, Ser Laenor Velaryon, the proud father, displayed a confident demeanor. His silver hair was neatly tied back, and his refined attire accentuated his imposing figure. Despite any speculation surrounding his personal life, Laenor Velaryon remained a figure of respect.

King Viserys, upon noticing the arrival of his granddaughter and son-in-law, greeted them with a warm gesture.

— I apologize for our delay, Your Grace. I received an urgent message from my sister, and we could not ignore her call. I hope you all understand.

Murmurs in the hall subsided as the gathered guests processed the explanation. Rhaella, beside Ser Laenor, accompanied the apology with a charming smile, attempting to soften any potential discontent.

— I am sorry for the delay, Your Majesty — she inclined her head.

The king, in turn, nodded, supporting Laenor and Rhaella's explanation.

— Ah Rhaella, and Ser Laenor, how good of you to arrive. Do not worry about the delay; we are just beginning. Family should always be a priority — the king glanced around the table — We understand the need to attend to such calls. Please, make yourselves comfortable. What news does your sister bring us? Is everyone well?

Ser Laenor nodded respectfully and responded.

— She is on her way for the princes' name day, bringing with her her daughters Baela and Rhaena. Even while pregnant, she insists on being present to celebrate this special occasion with her daughters and the rest of the family.

Viserys smiled at the news, showing contentment.

— Ah, that is excellent news! It will be a joy to have Lady Laena and her daughters with us. Their presence will only enrich the event. Has she handled the journey well?

— The journey does not seem to have affected her negatively, Your Grace. Laena is eager to reunite with the family.

Viserys nodded, satisfied with the information.

— Very well. Let us prepare to welcome Lady Laena and her daughters with the hospitality they deserve — he turned his gaze to Queen Alicent — This will be a special day for the princes and for our entire family.

The queen smiled and turned her attention to the Velaryons who had just arrived in the small hall.

— Certainly, Your Grace. Her arrival will be eagerly anticipated by all of us. And how is Lady Laena's health? Her pregnancy seems not to have diminished her determination to attend the events.

— Laena has always been strong and resolute, my queen. Even the prospect of a child does not prevent her from being by her family's side during important moments such as this. But according to her message, her health is excellent.

Alicent nodded in silent agreement.

— A remarkable virtue, without a doubt.

The scene continued with Rhaella and Ser Laenor taking their seats, while the family's attention gradually shifted to other matters. The soft and constant hum of conversations filled the air, with laughter, murmurs, and debates on various topics. The long table was covered with a variety of dishes, from fresh breads and fruits to eggs prepared in different ways, and the tempting aromas of the dishes lingered in the air.

The gentle clinking of cutlery against plates and glasses created a constant soundtrack. The metallic sound indicated the frenetic activity as they savored the various dishes served at the table. The footsteps of the servants circulating, attending to the family's needs, contributed to the sense of efficiency and discreet service characteristic of the Red Keep.

Here and there, spontaneous laughter and exclamations of surprise or delight stood out.

— Jace, Daeron, how are you feeling with the celebration approaching? — asked the king, with his characteristic smile.

Prince Jacaerys looked up from his plate and responded with good humor.

— I’m excited, Your Grace. Mother and the dragon keepers have been preparing me well. The training for the first flight is intense, but I am determined to impress.

— I share the same enthusiasm, Your Majesty. I have been training with Ser Criston to hone my skills.

Daeron responded and shared a smile with the queen, his mother.

— I still remember my first flight as if it were yesterday. The sensation of freedom in the skies is unmatched, my lads.

Vhaelys had heard stories echoing through the castle corridors about her grandfather, King Viserys, and Balerion, the Black Dread. The imposing figure of Balerion, with his black scales and enormous wings, was passed down through songs and stories from generation to generation in House Targaryen.

However, after Balerion’s departure from this world, Viserys did not seek to claim another dragon for himself. This fact intrigued Vhaelys, as many Targaryens yearned to bond with these magnificent creatures.

Her grandfather’s decision remained shrouded in mystery. Was it out of respect for Balerion’s legacy, recognizing that no other dragon could replace the Black Dread? Or perhaps it was a personal choice, a renunciation of the unique bond between rider and dragon? Vhaelys pondered these questions, trying to unravel the reasons behind the decisions of the past.

— That is what I like to hear. The first flight is a rite of passage for every dragon and their rider. Do not worry, my lad, you are destined to be a great dragon rider, and certainly a good king.

Viserys’s gaze toward Jacaerys was filled with pride and affection, an expression not lost on the keen eyes of Princess Rhaenyra and Vhaelys. Rhaenyra could feel the warmth of the moment, a tacit confirmation of the recognition and appreciation her father held for Jacaerys. Each word from Viserys seemed to be accompanied by a subtle smile, and Rhaenyra felt her heart swell with happiness witnessing the scene.

The conversation about the name day approaching and Jacaerys’s training for his first flight was a reflection of the royal family’s commitment to the tradition of dragons.

— I will do my best, Your Majesty. Aegon said he will teach me all the tricks he learned in the air, and Daeron has been training hard with me alongside Tessarion. — said the eager lad. — So, I promise not to disappoint.

Aegon seemed to be listening intently to the conversation between his father, King Viserys, and Jacaerys, his nephew. The small hall was filled with soft murmurs and the occasional clinking of cutlery, but his thoughts were centered on the interaction before him.

When Jacaerys mentioned that Aegon had said he would give him some tips, Viserys’s gaze swept the room, searching for Aegon’s face. Vhaelys, observing closely, noticed a look of interest and expectation on the king’s face. There was a mixture of curiosity and approval in his eyes, as if Viserys saw it as a positive gesture from Aegon towards family harmony.

Aegon, for his part, felt the eyes upon him, especially that of King Viserys, and even though his expression was hard to decipher, it was evident he was aware of the importance of the moment.

— If my words can be of any help to Jace, I would be happy to share my modest experience. After all, we must keep the family tradition alive, mustn't we, Father? — he said, raising his goblet.

— Aegon, my son, it is always admirable to see the family supporting each other and sharing knowledge. The tradition and legacy of the Targaryens are a responsibility we must honor. I am confident that both of you will live up to our house’s name. — Viserys smiled, acknowledging Aegon’s gesture. — Your first flight and Daeron’s were a spectacle. But now, it is Jace’s turn, so savor every moment, my lad. — Viserys looked at Jacaerys. — These memories will be treasures throughout your life.

Rhaella

The small hall was abuzz as Princess Rhaella, accompanied by Ser Laenor, entered the room. Her violet eyes shone, hiding her nervousness, as she walked gracefully toward her seat, situated between Vhaelys and Lucerys. She leaned slightly toward her sister, her soft whisper seeking privacy but laden with complicity.

— Sorry for the delay, sister. I lost track of time while training with the bow on the cliffs.

The princess's expression carried a mix of apology and anxiety, her eyes reflecting the awareness of the delay that might have caused inconvenience. Her lips, usually curved in carefree smiles, now held a softer line, denoting sincerity in her words.

Rhaella’s gestures as she sat down showed a conscious effort not to draw unnecessary attention to her tardiness. The way she held herself, with her hands delicately folded in her lap, was an attempt to compose herself in front of the family, indicating that she acknowledged the importance of being punctual.

In her heart, Rhaella felt the responsibility to represent the family properly, especially in front of the queen, and she felt terrible when she failed.

Vhaelys smiled at her sister, understanding Rhaella’s passion for her favorite activities.

— Don’t worry, Rhae. I was starting to get worried. Did Father help you? — she tilted her head, indicating her sister’s hair.

— He helped me get ready. He even did a different braid for me. — She smiled. — You know, I can’t do that properly myself.

— It looks nice; I like the choice of the dress. And about the training on the cliffs, be careful. You don’t want a new scratch on our brother’s name day.

— It seems your advice came too late...— Rhaella averted her gaze for a moment, subtly pointing to her forehead, where a small bruise rested discreetly. Her expression was a mix of mischief and lightness, as if sharing a secret just between them. — But don’t worry, it’s just a scratch. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes. I just hope Mother doesn’t notice.

Vhaelys’s eyes widened in surprise.

Rhaella winked, conveying to her sister that the situation was not as serious as it might seem.

Vhaelys leaned toward Rhaella, her curious eyes seeking more details about her sister’s little mishap.

— How did you treat that scratch? — she asked with noticeable concern. — We need to make sure Mother doesn’t find out, right?

Rhaella let out a muffled laugh.

— Father helped me take care of it. It was just a scare, and it looks much better now. — Rhaella smiled, acknowledging her father’s effort to reassure her.

Her sister looked at her with a mix of relief and affection in her eyes.

— You scared me! Luckily, Father was there to take care of you. — She offered a comforting smile to Rhaella. — But seriously, you need to be more careful. Mother will be upset if she finds out you’re taking such risks.

— I know, I know. I promise I’ll be more careful next time. I didn’t mean to worry anyone. And you, how was your morning?

— What are you two whispering about? It sounds like you’re plotting something.

Observing Lucerys, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and tenderness. Lucerys, the youngest brother, was an endearing child. His curious eyes sparkled with innocence and an unwavering curiosity. It was evident that he looked up to his older sisters with admiration, a blend of respect and a desire to be part of the wider circle of conversation and confidences.

Rhaella noticed the innate innocence and gentleness in Lucerys, and he warmed her heart every time.

The two sisters smiled at their younger brother.

— Nothing much, Luke. We were just talking about my "little incident" this morning. It’s nothing serious.

Lucerys frowned, worried.

— Did you hurt yourself again, Rhae? Be careful...

Rhaella laughed and gave her brother's hand a gentle pat.

— It’s fine, Luke. It was just a scratch. Besides, Father took care of it for me. I’m perfectly safe now — She placed a finger on her lips and spoke. — But don’t tell Mother.

Lucerys smiled and nodded.

— Alright, I won’t tell...

— Won’t tell what?

Jacaerys didn’t waste time asking, with a look of amusement in his eyes. But Rhaella recognized that beneath it, there was a mix of affection and responsibility, as if he was used to being protective.

Lucerys smiled at Rhaella with complicity, as if to assure her that their little secret was safe. She couldn’t help but smile back.

— Don’t worry, Rhae. I know how to keep a secret, okay?

— I know, Luke.

— Is it some conspiracy I should know about, or is our sister just plotting her next escape?

Vhaelys rolled her eyes and smiled, and Rhaella made a face at her older brother.

— It’s none of your business...

Jacaerys raised his eyebrows as if pretending to be surprised.

— I’m feeling left out, a secret just between you two...

Vhaelys sighed.

— It’s nothing like that, Jace. Rhae just had a little mishap this morning, and Luke promised not to tell Mother.

— Mishap? — He frowned — Did you hurt yourself again?

— It’s nothing serious, Jace. And Father has already helped me; it was just a scratch.

The conversation was interrupted when the powerful voice of their grandfather, King Viserys, echoed in the small hall. He turned his attention to Jacaerys, a proud smile lighting up his aged face.

However, Rhaella’s gaze was drawn to Aemond, her uncle. She noticed the shadow of discomfort on his face, as Aemond still did not have a dragon of his own. She always thought this was a trivial concern; she liked Aemond for who he was, not for the dragon he rode.

His platinum-blond hair fell in soft waves that nearly reached his shoulders. His violet eyes were intense and expressive. Rhaella saw in them a fascinating mix of strength and insecurity.

That morning, Aemond wore finely woven dark-toned garments that accentuated the paleness of his skin. Silver details embroidered on the edges added a touch of nobility. Dark trousers and leather boots completed the ensemble, highlighting his posture.

Aemond averted his gaze, avoiding the evident pride of King Viserys regarding his siblings and their future flights. Rhaella felt a pang of sympathy for him. She knew Aemond had his own insecurities, but that didn’t diminish her esteem for him. She especially enjoyed the times when Aemond read to her.

With perceptive eyes, Rhaella tried to discreetly get Aemond’s attention. She cast soft and reassuring glances, trying to convey a silent message of support. Her gestures were subtle, like offering an encouraging smile. She wanted Aemond to know that, in her eyes, the absence of a dragon did not lessen his worth.

He was someone she could share secrets and dreams with. A friend. She longed for the moment when Aemond would realize that, whether or not he had a dragon, his presence and affection were invaluable to her.

Aemond’s subtle glances and gestures did not seem to have gone unnoticed by him. When their eyes met, he responded with a shy smile, silently thanking her for the understanding she offered.

As King Viserys continued to speak, praising the feats of his children, Aemond’s eyes met Rhaella’s from time to time, as if seeking solace in her comforting expression.

She subtly tilted her head, discreetly exposing the bruise on her forehead to him. Her eyes conveyed a mix of amusement and complicity, as if sharing a light secret. Aemond, noticing the gesture, responded with a frown as if concerned.

But her smile seemed to have calmed him, as soon after he rolled his eyes, and the hint of a smile appeared on his lips.

The subtle exchange between the two went unnoticed by some, but it did not stop Queen Alicent from casting a watchful glance at the young princess. Each time their eyes met, a sense of judgment hung in the air. The queen was a commanding presence, with eyes that seemed to probe deeper than just the surface.

— Rhaella, my dear, how have your lessons with Septa Noelle been? I hope you are diligently applying yourself to the teachings and learning the virtues that are so important for a princess — There was something in that look that transcended words, a silent communication laden with judgment and expectations.

Rhaella, between bites of finely prepared food, raised her eyes to the queen. Even in her youth, the princess was not naïve. She sensed that Queen Alicent was observing her closely, evaluating her actions and words.

— The lessons are going well, Your Majesty. Septa Noelle is kind and patient. I’ve learned a lot about the history of the Seven Kingdoms and the virtues that the gods value. Courtesy, patience, and composure are values I’ve been striving to incorporate into my daily conduct.

Rhaella, in turn, tried to remain dignified and gracefully aloof to the perceived pressure. Yet, the persistent sensation of being under constant scrutiny did not escape her sensitive perception.

Queen Alicent seemed satisfied with the response but did not delay in moving on to another matter.

— With the princes' Name Day celebrations approaching, I hope you are prepared to represent the family with grace and elegance. You will have the opportunity to showcase your skills and knowledge before the gathered nobles; I wish for you to stand out.

Rhaella felt her stomach tighten with a mix of anxiety and nervousness, as if she already knew what was coming. Her hands tightened on the fabric of her dress, and she felt Vhaelys's hand gripping hers under the table.

— Certainly, Your Majesty. I would be happy to contribute to the celebrations — The young princess tried to mask her unease with a polite smile, responding to the queen with courtesy. — How can I be of service during these events?

The queen smiled with satisfaction, a sharp glint reflecting in her eyes.

— Excellent, my dear. Besides your skills as a lady, I would like to request something special from you. During one of the celebratory dinners, it would be charming if you could grace us with a melody. A demonstration of your artistic talents would be greatly appreciated by everyone.

Inside, however, Rhaella worried about the expectation of performing before the court and guests. Septa Noelle, her music instructor, was well aware of her limitations with the harp. The princess feared that her lack of skill might expose her weaknesses before everyone.

Vhaelys, noticing her sister's discomfort, tried to intervene delicately.

— My Queen, Rhaella, as you know, gets a bit nervous before an audience. Perhaps this is not the ideal moment for her to perform.

Queen Alicent listened attentively to Vhaelys's words, but her determination remained unwavering.

— Vhaelys, both you and Helaena have had the opportunity to delight the court with your music. Now it’s Rhaella’s turn to shine. Each of you has your own gifts, and it’s important that they are appreciated by everyone during the celebrations.

The sisters' hands clasped each other as a sign of their camaraderie.

Princess Rhaenyra observed the scene with a serious expression, while Queen Alicent maintained her firm stance regarding Rhaella’s participation. When the opportunity arose, Rhaenyra spoke, her voice sounding firm and determined.

— My Queen, I understand the importance of sharing our talents, but perhaps there are other ways Rhaella could contribute to the occasion. She could be an exemplary reader at a ceremony, or perhaps enjoy dancing. These options would allow her to participate without insecurity.

— Music plays a special role in these celebrations, Princess. And believe me, everyone will be delighted to witness Rhaella’s talent. Besides, both Helaena and Vhaelys have performed before.

King Viserys, observing the interaction between his wife and daughter, decided to intervene.

— Rhaenyra is right about young Rhaella’s comfort, Alicent. Our children are talented in various ways. Rhaella can shine in other areas besides music. Perhaps she could enchant us with a reading or a graceful dance during the celebrations.

Feeling anxious and nervous about the prospect of playing the harp before the entire court and guests during the Princes' Name Day celebrations, Rhaella sought a solution to navigate the situation. She knew her harp skills were not as refined as Queen Alicent expected.

Septa Noelle fully understood the princess’s musical limitations and therefore tried to encourage Rhaella to find other ways to express her talent. However, with the pressure to participate in established traditions, the princess felt cornered.

Rhaella, however, had a secret. She used to sneak away from the Red Keep to explore King’s Landing, where she would find troupes of performers and be enchanted by various forms of artistic expression.

Rhaella’s talent with the harp might be lacking, but she had another secret, shared only with groups of entertainers that docked in King’s Landing to perform. In moments of relaxation, away from the court's critical gaze, the princess found comfort and joy among street performers.

With this secret in mind, Rhaella saw an opportunity to surprise everyone. She would accept Queen Alicent’s challenge, but not with the harp.

Thus, while anxiety persisted, a spark of confidence grew within Rhaella. The harp might be her weak point, but she had her secret weapon.

— Excuse me, Your Majesty... — she swallowed hard, but felt encouraged to continue when her grandfather looked at her with an affectionate smile. — If Princess Helaena and my sister Vhaelys can face the audience with their skills, I see no difference in facing the challenge with music. It is true that I prefer reading and dancing, but the Queen is right. Music plays a fundamental role in these celebrations, and I would have to face an audience anyway. So, if you could grant me this opportunity, I would prefer to face the challenge, even if it is difficult for me. It would be a pleasure to contribute my music to the festivities. I am honored by your suggestion, my Queen.

The revelation caused a pause in the room, as everyone processed the unexpected change. Rhaella, feeling the pressure of the court’s watchful gaze, squeezed Vhaelys’s hand under the table when she noticed her sister’s shocked look. Her older sister quickly composed herself and smiled.

King Viserys, observing his granddaughter with proud eyes, broke the silence.

— If my granddaughter has a sincere desire to improve her musical skills, I see no reason to prevent her from pursuing it. You have my blessing to seek additional instruction in music if you wish. I want you to feel confident and comfortable during the celebrations.

Rhaella, relieved and grateful for her grandfather’s understanding, nodded in thanks, avoiding the questioning gaze of the queen and her mother.

💕: @immyowndefender

[countrymusiclover]

1 - The Lannister Kingsguard

Part 2

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tag list just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

16 years ago

“I’m going to catch you little rascal.” I called through the large hallways of the Red Keep attempting to catch my youngest brother Viserys who insisted we play chase this morning.

His silver white was getting tousled around while he ran around the corner with me trying to catch his heels. “You can't get me.”

“I think you doubt me far too much, little brother.” I smirked flying past the Targaryen banner near the wall rounding the corner he had gone around but he stopped running when I tackled him to the stone floor in my short dress. “Ha! I told you I'd get you.”

He whined underneath my hold. “That’s not fair.”

“Sister?” Yanking my head upward I saw my older brother Rhaegar standing a few steps away from us.

A few members of our fathers kingsguard were standing near the Iron Throne. I saw an older man with a bald head dressed in all red meaning it had to be the Hand of the King Tywin Lannister. “Um hi brother. What is going on here?”

“I was about to make this 16 year old a member of my Kingsguard until I was interrupted by you, daughter.” My father raised his tone towards me, sitting on the throne of swords.

I gulped knowing he didn’t have good control over his temper sometimes, especially around his children. “Forgive me, father. I didn't recall that it was today until this very moment.”

“It doesn't matter now. Get over there with your brothers and watch silently. Let's get this done. I don't wish to keep my wife waiting.” Father scoffed, tapping his fingers on the armrests of the chair until a different kingsguard delivered him a sword and walked forward standing on the first two steps where the young boy was bent down on one knee before his king.

Tywin finally spoke up to the king. “State your name, boy.”

“Jaime of House Lannister. Son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister.” The boy of fifteen with the long blonde hair responded on command.

Father raised his sword tapping his shoulders with the tip individually declaring the oath that must be bestowed onto a knight. “In the name of the warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the father I charge you to be just. In the name of the mother I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise Jaime Lannister, a knight of Seven Kingdoms and a member of the Kingsguard.”

“Woo hoo! Um - my apology.” I began clapping, breaking the silence in the throne room causing everyone to turn their heads in my direction.

Father placed his sword inside his holder and two knights along with the Hand of the King retreated from the room without another word. That left me and my brothers alone with Jaime Lannister. “I've been meaning to talk to you, sister. I have news for you.” Rhaegar turned on his feet facing me.

“What news is that?” I asked him curiously.

He answered me with a half smile, mentioning the Dorne family we had gotten along with since one girl was a former lady and waiting for our mother Rhaella. “I'm going to marry Ella Martel.”

“That’s great news, brother.” Flinging my arms around his neck I giggled and he hugged me back now smiling too.

The typical tradition of our family was for brothers and sisters to Wed one another but it took our parents seven years before they had me. By that time our father had already been talking about wedding my brother off to some high born girl of his many kingdoms. “I'm rather happy with it myself. I must go tell our mother. Come Viserys.” Rhaegar took our young brother by the hand leaving me alone in the throne room.

Shifting my gaze around I felt a pair of eyes on me when I turned my back to the throne seeing that the newly named kingsguard Lannister hadn't left me alone like I believed he had. “Can I help you with something, ser Knight?”

“I should be asking you that question, my princess. For I am sworn to aid and protect you.” Jaime bowed his head at me.

I clasped my hands together in front of my dress, my hair swaying with the fabric as I moved over to stand in front of the new knight. “From my memory I was not ever required to have a personal knight following me around my childhood home.”

“Well those were the commands I have been given and I intend to follow them, princess.”

Holding up a hand I interrupted him before this conversation went on any further. “Please stop calling me princess. I have far too many people addressing me by that title. I’d rather have someone call me by my name.”

“I can arrange those terms. Who do I have the honor of meeting now before me?”

I crusty to the night holding up the fabric of my dress showing him how my silver hair was styled into a crown when I did so. “Vaella Targaryen.”

“Then I’ll just be Jaime to you, Vaella.” The Lannister lion sent me a cheeky smile, bright green eyes focusing on my purple ones.

Lightly twirling side to side in my dress I smirked towards him deciding I should get to have some fun with my personal knight while my father wasn’t around us because right now he didn’t appear to be so serious as he was now that it was just the two of us alone together. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaime. I do have a question for you though?”

“What is your question Vaella?” He asked resting his right hand on the handle of his sword attached to his hip.

Sticking my tongue out at the knight I bolted barely waiting to hear what his reaction would be. “Do you think you can catch me, Ser knight?”

“I don’t understand. Wait - seven hells Vaella!” Jaime shook his head, awe struck and confused till he noticed the silver hair and white dress disappearing further away from him.

He began chasing after me concerned that he would get in trouble if something bad happened to me. But he wouldn’t admit it until years later how much he wished they had the opportunity to go back to that life compared to all the chaos that would be thrown their direction.

Kings Landing - current day

Jaime was currently standing outside of the King's office in the hallway on guard duty. The current king who had sat on the throne once he had killed the Mad King and now the Baratheon signal flew high in the Red Keep. The current king called Jaime’s nickname wanting to speak with him. “Kingslayer, get in here! It must wound your pride. Standing out there, like a golden sentry. Jaime Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin. Forced to mind the door while your king eats and drinks and shits and fucks. So, come on. We’re telling war stories. Who was your first kill, not counting the old men?”

“One of the outlaws in the Brotherhood.” He answered his king.

A fellow Kingsguard replied. “I was there that day. You were only a squire. Sixteen years old.”

“You killed Simon Toyne with a counter-riposte. Best move I ever saw.”

The other knight nodded. “Good fighter, Toyne. But he lacked stamina.

King Robert entered the conversation between the two Knights. “Your outlaw any last words?”

“I cut his head off. So, no.”

The king’s next question caused Jaime’s hand to drop down onto the handle of his sword. Recalling the night so vividly for more than one reason besides betraying the king he swore to protect. “What about Aerys Targaryen? What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back? I never asked. Did he call you a traitor? Did he plead for a reprieve?”

“He said the same thing he had been saying for hours. Burn them all.”

Silence fell inside the chamber room with the king silently staring at him for a few minutes. “Then we should all be grateful that we took care of all the Targaryens. The Seven Kingdoms didn’t need anymore reign or vows to a house whose words are Fire and Blood wouldn’t you agree?”

“It would seem so, your grace. If that is all I’ll take my leave.” Jaime bowed his head walking back out into the hallway and he didn’t release the tension in his shoulders and show emotion until he was away from the king. For the king was wrong in his words because not all the Targaryens were dead. One remained in Kings Landing and Jaime was the reason for it

And if the king ever found out both their heads would be on spikes.