#the targaryens are the last dragon riders left → daenerys is (almost) the last targaryen & is the last dragon rider →

[myimaginationplain]

I'm absolutely loving this song

[themotherofhorses]

- last of her house no more: I

Series Summary: She was born to Daenerys Stormborn and Khal Drogo on the Dothraki Sea, the youngest of their dragon brood. Known as the Seven Kingdom’s Delight, she trains with swords and arakhs, studies philosophy and history, and takes immense pride in the woman she is becoming. But her life is forever changed when she comes face-to-face with her long-deceased Green ancestors, including the man the maesters refer to as the one-eyed kinslayer. Now, this princess faces a future not even her mother could foresee in her dreams

pairing: aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

warnings: none.

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Chapter One:

Targaryens

It was nearing the early afternoon sun when the young princess parted Winterfell for King's Landing.

Waving goodbye to the Starks, she held tightly to Drogon's scales as he took to the sky, massive wings stirring up the surrounding snow and dirt of the land. Throwing one final look over her shoulder, she spied a look of awe on Arya's face and smiled. She greatly enjoyed the second youngest Stark's company and would be counting down the days until their next gathering.

It would be some time before she arrived home. Dragons were faster than horses and ships, but still, a great deal of the day would be stolen during the journey. Drogon was a fast flyer and smooth like the summer winds. He also despised the cold and would be sure to put enough distance between them and the North as quickly as possible. From that hour onward, she allowed herself to get comfortable, stretching her arms and legs and laying her head down close to him. It was her favorite thing to do while on dragon-back. This way, she could hear her eldest brother's heavy breaths as he glided across snow-capped mountains, farms, and riverlands, and then the bluest waters.

Small fish, of hundreds of colors, leaped out, maybe to greet them, and a few fishermen paused to watch them sail overhead.

These were the reasons why she enjoyed flying, this young Targaryen princess.

It was exhilarating and peaceful, unlike no other thing in the world. The old maesters in the Citadel would never be able to truly record it in their scrolls. Her mother was the first dragon rider in over a century, and she became the second on her sixth name day, when Drogon grew large enough to be ridden and allowed her to climb on his back. As a gift, he took her to see the nearby lands, where great elk and bears and direwolves, as well as other creatures, wandered in the woodlands. When they returned, Ser Jorah said she reminded him of Rhaenys Targaryen, the sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror, and how she rode her she-dragon Meraxes. But her ancestors used saddles and ropes and horns for holding onto, and the princess had no such thing.

Her mother would not allow it. Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor, Daenerys Stormborn would remind her every time they mounted the dragons. A dragon is not a slave.

"Drogon, do you feel different?"

She had suddenly felt a tug in her chest, not but a second before. It was strong, with some pain. It lengthened over her ribs and up to her heart, almost choking out a breath within her throat. Drogon chirped but made no other noise. The tug felt weird. As if it was trying to tell her something. But as soon as it arrived, it left her body, and she was left feeling fine but confused. "Something felt wrong, but only for a second. Maybe it is the cold? We are not used to it, after all," she decided.

But it was no longer cold around them. The snow clouds fell apart for blue skies long ago, and the sun god followed the two closely. She rested her head against his blackened frame and closed her eyes. She thought about the previous conversation she had with Sansa and Arya Stark.

Would you ever take a husband? They asked her over hot tea and baked delights. There are plenty fine Northern men; perhaps a marriage between one and our Targaryen princess would strengthen our alliance. Sansa leant closer, and said, After all, the North remembers, with a wink.

The sun god was closer to the land, and farther from his woman wife the moon goddess, when King's Landing appeared below them. The smallfolk were bustling in the streets as the two broke from the clouds and flew overhead. Some stopped to watch, craning their heads to catch the slightest glimpse of their Delight, while others cried out, tossing their hands up towards her. A few laughing children raced after the dragon's shadow, trying to touch it.

Adjacent to the Red Keep was the private courtyard, large enough to fit three dragons. It had been around since the years of King Viserys I's reign, almost two centuries before the princess's birth, and was used for their own dragons. Several nearby kingsguards stepped back as Drogon landed on the cliff overlooking the yard. Ever the largest of the dragon brood, Drogon favored making an entrance wherever he went. He screamed a piercing screech that rattled the close walls and chariots and left some of the knights clutching their ears before descending downwards. The princess held on tightly, jerking forward to meet his movements. Off in the distance, two similar roars rang. Rhaegal and Viserion. And to the side, Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan stood watching them, and to her front, her queen mother entered the courtyard with Missandei and Tyrion rearing behind. She failed to take notice of the strangers hanging back towards the Red Keep's doors.  

Drogon touched his shoulder towards the ground, and she slid off with great ease.

"Welcome back, princess. I trust your journey was both safe and pleasant?" Ser Barristan asked.

She smiled as she ran a gentle hand up Drogon's neck to his face, receiving a purr in return. "Peaceful as usual," she said, slipping her gloves off with her teeth. "One day, you ought to join me in the sky. I believe Rhaegal or Viserion wouldn't mind treating you to such magnificence." He laughed, shaking his head, "Thank you, princess, but I am quite content in staying on the ground."

"And you, Ser Jorah?"

Ser Jorah smiled as well, "I leave the sky to you Targaryens."

Both men were uncles to her, having watched her mature from a small babe following her mother's conquest for the Iron Throne to the proclaimed heir of the lands. And she loved them dearly for that, though they never took her invitation to ride. "But I believe your mother is nearing, princess. It seems as though she has come baring us some news."

She turned as Daenerys came upon her, dressed in a long black gown. Their house sigil was embroidered with scarlet stitching on her chest, and her long silver locks were held together with multiple, elaborate braids and a three-headed dragon pin. "Hello, mother!" she called out, moving to greet her with a hug. She smelled of rich spices and the pretty perfumes the merchants sometimes sold by the docks. Despite being gone for no more than two mornings, she missed her. "House Stark sends their regards and best wishes."

"And how is Lady Sansa?" Tyrion asked, coming to stand next to them with Missandei.

"She is well! In fact, she was the one that received me when I arrived, next to Arya. Showed me how her people are faring; I am afraid they are prepping for yet another harsh winter, but that is nothing new for the North. Perhaps we can visit them before the season ends?" She looked at her mom, who smiled and nodded. "That would be wonderful."

"Maybe we should send her next time to broker with the Baratheons and Lannisters?"

She glanced at Missandei, who had said that. "I have just returned home, my dear aunt. Please allow me some time to rest and prepare myself to be fed to the lions."

They shared a laugh, and Tyrion shook his head with the shadow of a grin. "Has anything changed while I was gone? Ser Jorah said you come bearing news?" Her mother seemed hesitant, a worrisome glint in her lilac eyes. And it was then that she noticed the Red Priestess standing only a few feet away. Such was an unusual sight; it made her remember the feeling she felt while returning home. Something has happened, she thought. I fear something is indeed different. "Red Priestess Kinvara," she bowed her head.

"Hello, princess," Kinvara smiled. "It is a lovely sight to see you again. I take it you have been well?"

"Yes, Priestess. The Gods continue to bless me with good health and fortune, and for that, I am thankful."

Beside her, Daenerys shifted and took her daughter's hand in hers. "I am happy you have returned today, daughter, and in good spirits and health as well. Kinvara, in her graciousness, has brought several…guests for us to entertain, my dearest love."

"Guests? Oh, if I had known, I would have been home sooner. My apologies.”

Kinvara angled her body towards the Red Keep's door. “Do not fret, princess. You had no way of knowing. I believe no one did. Consider these guests a gift from the Lord of Light.”

The princess followed her gaze to a family settled at the steps, clustered around each other as if cattle. From the light of the setting sun, she saw that three of them were silver-haired, like her and her mother. The other two wore green and were stiffed in their posture, and had features that marked them not of her noble house.

“I do not understand,” she said, confused, looking at her mother. It made her remember the times Tyrion would join her at the table whilst she studied history. The two quickly discovered they were quite fond of the war between Aegon II Targaryen and his half-sister, Rhaenyra. Many days they sat over scrolls and notes regarding Aegon the Usurper, his sister and queen consort Helaena and their mother, Alicent Hightower. And of their damned brother Aemond One-Eye, the Kinslayer. Long deceased before this time.

She did not understand.

Standing before her were her ancestors, the ones belonging to the days of the Dance of the Dragons.

notes: everyone say thank you to my dear sweet lovebug @dothrckis, who is helping me with this series and is quite literally the backbone.

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[dragonmartellstark]

Aemon Targaryen (55 a. C.-105 a. C.) Hand of the King

Aemon Targaryen was the third son of the kings of the Seven Kingdoms being a strong, robust and noisy baby being a great joy for his parents after the birth of his first brother, Aegon who was born quite premature. As he grew up, the whole world began to see him as the heir to the iron throne due to the poor health of Prince Aegon and they believed that he would die before sitting on the throne.

The prince was always very close to his younger brother, Baelon since he was born and the brothers played with their swords or did all kinds of mischief next to his older sister, Daenerys.

After the tragic epidemic of chills Lord Rogar Baratheon decides to send his daughter Jocelyn along with her cousins ​​to the kings after the death of their paternal aunts. The young woman was well received by the kings who adored her half-siblings. A year later at a banquet for the engagement of Princes Aegon and Daenerys, the queen seated Jocelyn next to Aemon; the children chatted and laughed together throughout the evening, ignoring the others. That friendship between aunt and nephew convinced Queen Alysanne of a possible engagement between the young people. At 10 years old, Aemon participated in his first joust, but due to his mother's concern he was only allowed to participate in a joust with young knights. Despite being one of the youngest knights, Aemon managed to end all of them being acclaimed by the public and it is known that the prince approached Jocelyn Baratheon's seat and gave her a rose with a bright golden color.

Three years later, Jaehaerys and Alysanne formalize the engagement between Aemon & Jocelyn, it is known that after this announcement the prince kissed the cheek of his fiancée and affirmed that "I will be as good a husband as I am such a good gentleman." Two years later, in 70 a. C., Prince Aemon and Lady Jocelyn were married in a ceremony so lavish that it rivaled the Golden Wedding. The couple was acclaimed by the people and it was believed that both would be the future of the kingdom if the princes of Dragonstone had no offspring.

In 72 a. C., Aemon became the rider of the fierce Caraxes and flew for the first time alongside his brothers Aegon, Daenerys, Baelon and Alyssa who already had their own dragons.

In 74 a. C., Lady Jocelyn gave birth to her daughter, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. The girl was big and fierce, with the black hair of her mother Baratheon and the light purple eyes of her father Targaryen hers. The birth of her daughter was a great joy for the prince, considering her the most beautiful baby that her eyes have seen. A year later, her second and last child was born, Jaehaerys, who would be the Chief Justice of King Aegon II. This birth almost cost his wife his life and Maester Elysar affirmed that Lady Jocelyn was no longer able to have more children, this was accepted by Aemon who would rather not have more children than to lose her great love and leave her children. motherless. His father appointed him counselor of the Edicts three years later and it is known that he used his function for ten years, in addition to being a man of clear and firm ideas.

One of the most turbulent events in Aemon's life was when in 80 AD. C., Otto Hightower secretly insulted Lady Jocelyn stating that he was "a man with boobs" and this reached the ears of the prince who confronted Lord Hightower for those words. After this, Jaehaerys I learned of this situation and exiled Otto from the court, losing his royal favor.

Aemon's life continued quiet as usual and it is known that he enjoyed spending time with his children, especially with his daughter Rhaenys with whom he shared his love of flying with his dragons Caraxes and Wife. In 90 a. C., Lord Corlys Velaryon known as "The sea serpent" asked Rhaenys' hand and this managed to convince her parents to accept the commitment. That same year the wedding was celebrated.

Years later, Myriense pirates captured the eastern coast of Tarth. Prince Aemon would command the attack and jointly attack Lord Corlys Velaryon, his recent son-in-law. Prince Aemon arrived before the Velaryon fleet in Tarth and met Lord Cameron Tarth, who had retreated to the ridge that ran through the center of the island and had set up camp in a hidden valley from which he could spy on the maneuvers of the Myrienses. Prince Aemon met him there, and the two drew up plans for the attack; unfortunately, the camp was spotted by one of the Myrien scouts.

Aemon was about to die by the crossbows, being saved by his younger brother Baelon who used armor to stop the arrows. The Targaryen brothers wielded their swords against the pirates unleashing a field of blood and fire alongside their dragons Vhagar and Caraxes. The princes returned to Westeros as victorious, being well received by their families and by the kingdom.

In 93 a. C., her first granddaughter is born, Laena Velaryon, daughter of her beloved Rhaenys and Corlys Velaryon. It is known that Aemon cried when he carried the little girl in her arms and felt proud to be a grandfather. A year later his second grandson would be born, Laenor, known as “little horse” and he would succeed his father Corlys as Lord of Driftmark. The life of the Targaryen family was affected by the death of Queen Alysanne due to health problems and Aemon was the main support of his older brothers, Aegon and Daenerys who became regents when their father was hurt by the death of his wife .

In 103 a. C., the father of him the Conciliator dies and his brother Aegon was crowned as Aegon II, this named Aemon as Hand of the King, being one of the most important positions of the court. However, his role as his hand did not last long when a year later his beloved wife Jocelyn Baratheon died from the bite of a snake that poisoned her. Jocelyn's death was bitter for the prince and just two years after being appointed hand of the king he left that position and locked himself in his rooms to mourn his wife.

Aemon Targaryen died two months after the death of his wife at age 50 from intense fevers while in the company of his children Rhaenys and Jaehaerys. A year later, his son who was married to Amanda Arryn had their first son, whom he named Aemon in honor of his deceased grandfather.

Aemon Targaryen (55 d. C.-105 d. C.) Mano del Rey

Aemon Targaryen fue el tercer hijo de los reyes de los Siete Reinos siendo un bebé fuerte, robusto y ruidoso siendo una gran alegría para sus padres después del nacimiento de su primer hermano, Aegon que nació bastante prematuro. Mientras crecía todo mundo empezó a verle como el heredero al trono de hierro debido a la delicada salud del príncipe Aegon y creían que moriría antes de sentarse en el trono.

El príncipe fue siempre muy cercano a su hermano menor, Baelon desde que este nació y los hermanos jugaban con sus espadas o hacían todo tipo de travesuras al lado de su hermana mayor, Daenerys.

Tras la trágica epidemia de escalofríos Lord Rogar Baratheon decide enviar a su hija Jocelyn junto a sus primas con los reyes después de la muerte de sus tías paternas. La joven fue bien recibida por los reyes quienes adoraban a sus medios hermanos. Un año después en un banquete por el compromiso de los príncipes Aegon y Daenerys, la reina sentó a Jocelyn junto a Aemon; los niños charlaron y rieron juntos durante toda la velada, haciendo caso omiso de los demás. Aquella amistad entre tía y sobrino convencieron a la reina Alysanne de un posible compromiso entre los jóvenes.

A sus 10 años de edad, Aemon participo en su primera justa, pero debido a la preocupación de su madre solo se le permitió participar en una justa con jóvenes caballeros. Pesé a ser de los caballeros mas jóvenes, Aemon logro acabar con todos ellos siendo aclamado por el publico y se sabe que el príncipe se acerco al asiento de Jocelyn Baratheon y le regalo una rosa con un color dorado brillante.

Tres años después Jaehaerys y Alysanne oficializan el compromiso entre Aemon & Jocelyn, se sabe que después de este anuncio el príncipe beso la mejilla de su prometida y afirmo que “seré tan buen esposo como soy tan buen caballero”. Dos años después, en 70 d.C., el príncipe Aemon y Lady Jocelyn contrajeron matrimonio en una ceremonia tan esplendorosa que rivalizó con la Boda Dorada. La pareja fue aclamada por el pueblo y se creía que ambos serían el futuro del reino si los príncipes de Rocadragón no tuvieran descendencia.

En 72 d. C., Aemon se convirtió en el jinete del feroz Caraxes y voló por primera vez al lado de sus hermanos Aegon, Daenerys, Baelon y Alyssa que ya tenían sus propios dragones.

En 74 d.C., Lady Jocelyn dio a luz a su hija, la princesa Rhaenys Targaryen. La niña era grande y fiera, con el cabello negro de su madre Baratheon y los ojos violeta claro de su padre Targaryen. El nacimiento de su hija fue una gran alegría para el príncipe considerándola la bebé mas hermosa que hayan visto sus ojos. Un año después nace su segundo y ultimo hijo, Jaehaerys que sería la Justicia Mayor del rey Aegon II. Este parto casi le costo la vida a su esposa y el maestre Elysar afirmo que Lady Jocelyn ya no estaba capacitada para tener mas hijos, esto fue aceptado por Aemon que preferiría no tener mas hijos a que perder a su gran amor y dejar a sus hijos sin madre.

Su padre lo nombro consejero de los Edictos tres años después y se sabe que empleo su función por diez años, además de ser un hombre de ideas claras y firmes.

Uno de los eventos mas turbulentos en la vida de Aemon fue cuando en el 80 d. C., Otto Hightower insulto en secreto a Lady Jocelyn afirmando que era “un hombre con tetas” y esto llego a oídos del príncipe que enfrento a Lord Hightower por aquellas palabras. Tras esto, Jaehaerys I se entero de esta situación y exilió a Otto de la corte perdiendo este el favor real.

La vida de Aemon siguió tranquila como de costumbre y se sabe que disfrutaba pasar el rato con sus hijos, sobre todo con su hija Rhaenys con la cual compartía su gusto por volar con sus dragones Caraxes y Wife. En el 90 d. C., Lord Corlys Velaryon conocido como “La serpiente marina” pidió la mano de Rhaenys y esta logro convencer a sus padres de aceptar el compromiso. Ese mismo año se celebro la boda.

Años después, unos piratas myrienses capturaron la costa oriental de Tarth. El príncipe Aemon comandaría el ataque y atacaría en conjunto a Lord Corlys Velaryon, su reciente yerno. El príncipe Aemon llegó antes que la flota Velaryon a Tarth y se reunió con Lord Cameron Tarth, que se había replegado a la cordillera que recorría el centro de la isla y había armado campamento en un valle oculto desde el que se podía espiar las maniobras de los myrienses. El príncipe Aemon se reunió allí con él, y ambos trazaron planes para el ataque; desgraciadamente, el campamento fue divisado por uno de los exploradores myrienses.

Aemon estuvo apunto de morir por las ballestas, siendo salvado por su hermano menor Baelon que utilizo una armadura para frenar las flechas. Los hermanos targaryen empuñaron sus espadas en contra de los piratas desatando un campo de sangre y fuego junto a sus dragones Vhagar y Caraxes. Los príncipes volvieron a Poniente como victoriosos siendo bien recibidos por sus familias y por el reino.

En el 93 d. C., nace su primera nieta, Laena Velaryon, hija de su querida Rhaenys y Corlys Velaryon. Se sabe que Aemon lloro al cargar a la pequeña en sus brazos y se sintió orgulloso de ser abuelo. Un año mas tarde nacería su segundo nieto, Laenor conocido “caballito” y este sucedería a su padre Corlys como Señor de Marcaderiva.

La vida de la familia Targaryen se vio afectada por la muerte de la reina Alysanne por problemas de salud y Aemon fue el principal apoyo de sus hermanos mayores, Aegon y Daenerys que se convirtieron en regentes al estar su padre dolido por la muerte de su esposa.

En 103 d. C., fallece su padre el Conciliador y su hermano Aegon fue coronado como Aegon II, este nombro a Aemon como Mano del Rey, siendo una de las posiciones mas importantes de la corte. Sin embargo su papel como mano no duro mucho cuando un año después falleció su amada esposa Jocelyn Baratheon por la mordedura de una serpiente que la enveneno. La muerte de Jocelyn fue amarga para el príncipe y apenas dos años de ser nombrado mano del rey dejo aquel cargo y se encerró en sus aposentos a llorar a su esposa.

Aemon Targaryen falleció dos meses después de la muerte de su esposa a los 50 años de edad por intensas fiebres mientras estaba en compañía de sus hijos Rhaenys y Jaehaerys. Un año después su hijo que estaba casado con Amanda Arryn tuvo su primer hijo varón al cual llamo Aemon en honor a su abuelo fallecido.

[ginger-danica-snapps]

Set Our Course by the Stars

Written for Day 6 of The Spring Blossoms and Autumn Leaves event @jonsaseasonalbash 

for the prompt set, spring fever/stars/autumn sadness 

Summary: Sansa had almost given up on being rescued from the hell of King’s Landing by any member of her blood. They were all dead and gone, accept for a bastard brother who had gone to the wall. Sansa has never been so happy as to be wrong about something in her life. Her prince does come and he is the Prince Aemon her father promised her once upon a time when she was a sweet, summer child. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30952292

The day that Sansa’s prince rescued her from the dreaded lion’s seemed as normal a day as ever in the beginning. 

She woke early and her handmaids, all loyal, western ladies, helped her to don a dress with heavy silks and loosely tied sashes. They wove her hair into the intricate styles that Cersei Lannister was well known for. Then she took exactly twenty deep breaths, exhaling and inhaling, as she stood before her mirror and prepared her armor that could not be seen. 

Twenty deep breaths is all she allowed herself everyday, except for three times in a week when she was able to go to the Godswood for prayer. She bothered not with the sept. The southern gods abandoned her completely when Joffrey ordered her father’s head chopped from his shoulders. 

Twice she had thought she might find rescue from unlikely sources. The first when Stannis Baratheon attempted to take King’s Landing. He had failed. The second was when rumors of Daenerys Targaryen hatching dragons reached them. Then the notice of her death by the hands of the masters of the city she was sacking and the slaughter of her dragons. One stray arrow from atop a wall took down the mother of dragons. 

Sansa would have probably died in dragon fire if she had survived, but Sansa thought that preferable to being humiliated in the Lannister court and forced to eventually carry a Lannister child. 

Today was one of the days she would first go to the morning session of court. If Joffrey was in a particularly distracted mood, then Sansa would physically be able to acquit herself to the Godswood. 

She knew the chances of her making the Godswood for prayer was unlikely the moment she had walked into the balcony of the throne room. Joffrey immediately noted her presence and it was not long before a lady came to get her. 

“His Grace requests your presence, Sansa,” the girl spoke, only a few years above Sansa’s age, but certainly no one that should have considered it appropriate to call her by name with such familiarity. 

Summoning all her courage and thrusting her feelings, thoughts, and dark wishes behind the cool facade that was Lady Sansa Stark, daughter of a traitor, and willing guest of the crown’s own custody. 

In another life she would have been as Theon in Winterfell, if Cersei Lannister and her hellspawn were anything like her father. Scolding herself for the ill thinking, Sansa plastered a polite smile upon her mouth and curtsied deep before the throne. 

She maintained her stance and waited for permission to rise or for Joffrey to indicate that the Kingsguard should knock her all the way down. 

“Did you hear, Lady Sansa?” that voice mocked from the gilded throne. She imagined the sharp edges of the conquered swords slashing into Joffrey as they said King Maegor had died. She imagined pushing him back onto the blades herself and quickly pushed these thoughts behind her carefully, constructed mask, glad she was still kneeling and had yet to look up. 

“Your grace?” she asked, keeping her voice meek and low. 

“I asked if you had heard, Lady Sansa, of the great news that has reached us?” Joffrey mocked her as he stood from the throne. 

“I have not, Your Grace? Would you please be so kind as to honor me with this great news?” she responded, keeping all inflection out of her voice. What else could he do? Her father was dead, her brother and mother murdered, as well as Rickon and Bran. She had been married to Tyrion Lannister who seemed to think it such a great kindness that he would not take the maidenhood of a barely grown girl. 

What else could he do to her? 

“Your brother...Snow, was it? The bastard of your father? He has left the wall and forgone giving his vow to the night’s watch. My man says that he did not swear, but I don’t think I believe him. I’ve sent word North that anyone who finds him shall win their weight in gold and an empty northern keep for their own if they bring me his head. I shall give it to you as a gift once the dwarf begets a child on you,” Joffrey leaned down and wrapped his hand in her hair and pulled her head back to stare into her eyes as he whispered. 

“Or when I fuck one in to your cold cunt. One moon, traitor’s seed, do I give him to put a babe in your belly. If he does not then I will slip in one night and do the job for him.” 

Sansa made herself shiver as if in fear before responding with a simple, “Yes, your grace.” 

Joffrey sneered at her and turned away to make the climb back to his seat. 

“This traitor is fowling my air. Remove my...aunt...from the court,” he said offhandedly and Sansa stood and made one more quick dip before fleeing. 

Upon making it to the Godswood, Sansa ignored her handmaid's who walked behind her, or the shadowing presence of the Lannister men and went straight into prayer at the base of the tree. She kneeled into the roots and placed her hand upon the bark. 

Please. My mother’s gods have forsaken me and my father’s are all I have left. Wherever Jon is, please keep him safe. I will offer anything, just keep the last of my blood safe. 

Time passed and when she felt the warmth of the setting sun move on her body, she stood and brushed her skirts off. The ladies had long since left her and her guards had changed. She made her way back into the keep and to her quarters with Tyrion. 

Not that he would be inside of them. Tyrion had left two days prior to travel to Casterly Rock and back on his father’s order. Upon entering she started to ring for a maid to help her uncloth, but a shadow shifted behind her changing screen. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly a man was in front of her and for a moment in her confusion she thought her father stood there. 

Then her vision cleared and she gasped, “Jon?”

“Sansa,” her lost brother whispered, almost reverently and reached out to cup her cheek and brush her hair back from her face. His eyes followed down and she knew the moment he saw the lashes that peaked out of her dress at her nape and shoulders. Ser Payne had been particularly bad at aiming in the last few moons. 

Jon gently laid a hand upon them and pulled her to his chest, “I’m so sorry, Sansa, that I was unable to be here before now. I...I was at the wall and I learned some things and then I was away looking for allies. I thought there would be time...Robb was winning and my allies were not particularly happy about entering in the war until we had more support.”

Sansa was not sure who Jon could have drummed up as support, but Dorne was a possibility. They had always wondered if Jon was the son of a Dornish noblewoman, even Ashara Dayne for all they said her son had died. 

A noise from outside her doors brought her back to the present and out of her mind’s wondering. 

“We need to go, Sansa,” Jon said as he stepped back from her. 

“Where? The entrance to my room is guarded,” she answered back, fear setting inside of her. 

Jon laughed, “We are not going out the door, sweetling. We are going through the tunnels.”

“Tunnels? What tunnels?” Sansa whispered even as Jon moved to a tapestry that she realized was already displaced. Then he was slipping his fingers between two stones and pulling it out. Suddenly a low grinding noise of rock upon smoothed stone was heard and a doorway appeared. 

Jon held his hand out to her and she grasped tight as he led her forward. Stopping only momentarily to lift a torch that was in a sconce in the dark tunnel. He handed it to her and did some shuffling to close the entrance again. Then he took the torch back and led her forward. 

“Where are we going,” she whispered as they moved quickly and quietly. She was unsure of where else they passed as they climbed downward on a staircase that had to be where the wall widened at the base of the kitchen keep at which the top was her and Tyrion’s quarters. 

Jon pulled her closer as the tunnel narrowed into a long hall. 

“We will be passing into a cavern below the throne room. It is the only room from what my contact has said that the Lannister’s discovered from the Targaryen’s. It’s where Robert Baratheon was convinced to place the dragon heads. Then we will go down another tunnel that will lead us to a small strip of land and water. A boat and an ally with the ability to take us through the bay to a ship waiting for us will be there,” Jon explained and it was now that she realized something odd about his clothes. 

He was wearing black as she would have thought a man of the watch would, but it was not the rough leathers and ruffled fur she’d seen her Uncle where on his trips home from the wall. It was shining in its richness, layered and thick, with red threading throughout. The armor that was beneath his cloak glistened like the blackest metal she had ever seen forged and red rubies adorned something she could not quite make out. 

Reaching forward she brushed the cloak from his chest and her breath caught as the three headed dragon appeared. 

“Jon…” she began hesitantly. 

Jon leaned down and kissed her forehead, before standing and cupping her chin as he spoke, “My father named me Aemon Targaryen and my mother begged my uncle, your father, to protect me from Robert Baratheon. Almost twelve moons ago, Aemon Targaryen, maester at the wall recognized the tone in my voice and the features of my father in my face. He discretely requested a search at the Citadel and two moons later, riders came with documentation of my parents marriage and my birth. Three moons ago, inside the sept on Dragonstone, loyalists gathered and declared me Aemon, first of my name, and King of Westeros. When we sail from King’s Landing, it is only to join with the rest of our allies. We do not have enough to take the bay and the city, but we have enough to block supplies in and out. Our army will eventually surround the city. Now that Tywin Lannister and the majority of his major allies are in residence for the royal wedding, we will never have a better opportunity.” 

Sansa was quiet and easily began to follow him again as the words circled in her mind. Jon had always been kind to her. Kind, brave, strong, and true. Her father’s words came back to her. 

“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.” 

There was a bright light ahead and Sansa watched as Jon drew his sword and pressed Sansa behind him. They stepped slowly into the large, cavernous room that Sansa knew was where her sister had often hid. Arya had talked about the large dragon heads that dominated the room for days after her discovery. 

Beside the largest of them, Varys stood. Sansa tensed up, but Jon gave her hand a squeeze in support. 

“Your Grace, Your Royal Highness, Lord Seaworth is ready. We must be away before the chance that someone realizes the princess is missing,” the master of whisperer’s said and began to lead them through another tunnel. 

Sansa found herself introspective about the idea that she was being referred to as a princess. 

She supposed it meant that Jon recognized Robb as a King. 

“He named me his heir in his will,” Jon said quietly as they climbed wet, oddly spaced stairs, “It took moons to convince the northern lords to follow me after I admitted my heritage. Winterfell has already been secured and returned to the Starks. The House of Bolton has fallen. There are many things that will surprise you in the coming time, but Rickon and Bran survived. Theon lied about their death. I have named Rickon as Lord of Winterfell and Lord Manderly is acting as his regent.” 

Sansa hummed in approval, but thought it odd they accepted Jon, when two sons of Ned Stark were alive. The only way they would have agreed is if Jon had agreed to do something to strengthen their loyalty and suddenly Sansa knew what they had demanded. 

Rhaegar was a fool with his affection, if that is what it was, but he did elevate a Stark daughter to one day be a Queen. The only thing that would assuage the Northern pride and offer them enough stability to be a part of the seven kingdoms was if there was another Stark Queen and this time, one that would beget the heir to the iron throne in the open. 

“Marriage. They have demanded we marry for their cooperation. You agreed?” Sansa hesitantly asked as they stepped from the darker tunnel and into the night air. She watched the conflicted emotions cross his face. 

“Yes, but only if you wished to be my queen. If you do not, then I will take a Northern bride of their choice and you will be the regent of Winterfell until Rickon is of an age to be the warden,” Jon responded simply. 

Someone brave and gentle and strong. 

The words echoed in her mind again as they finally reached a small rowboat with a man aboard. He reached out and helped Sansa into the boat and Jon climbed in after her after a few words with Varys. 

“You will leave in plenty of time to avoid being caught in the siege. Do you understand me, Lord Varys?” Jon was saying quietly as the man tittered and agreed. He walked away as the man began rowing away. 

Jon reached down and began to help. 

Sansa tilted her head and watched him carefully, knowing that her silence was probably not helping Jon’s state of mind. She’d never really given thought to Jon as anything but a person who shared a miniscule amount of blood and caused her mother shame. It was not his fault and she understood that now in way she had been woefully unprepared to do before the summer child of her youth was discarded for the cynical reality of the world. 

Still...Targaryen or not, Jon had always been everything her father desired for her in a match. The only difference being that she had not known of his high birth at childhood and he had supposedly been her brother. 

Cousins, though...cousins could marry. It was highly likely had the war gone another way and the North had stood with Lyanna, then it was likely Sansa would have been betrothed at birth to Jon...Aemon. 

“Do you prefer Aemon now?” she blurted out and couldn’t help the twitch her lips made in an effort to smile when Jon burst out laughing at the first words she decided the share after the shock. 

“Nay. Please just keep to Jon. It’s hard enough remembering to answer to the Lords and Ladies of my allies, nevertheless my...cousin,” Jon finally answered. 

They were quiet for a time as Sansa watched the stars appear and because too shine in the night sky. Using the little knowledge she could remember from her younger years, Sansa found the wolfstar and it made her feel safe for a very small moment. 

As the night stars shined, they made way to a large ship outside of the bay in the darkest part of the night. The hour of the wolf, Sansa thought with an odd sense of satisfaction. Jon reached down and helped haul her up on the deck. Sansa found herself quickly leaning in to her cousin. 

“See there, Sansa?” Jon whispered as he pointed to the wolfstar. She nodded her head. 

“Every night as the stars come out, we make our heading and set our course by the wolfstar. It leads us North and regardless of where we are, it will always take us home and it will always be a part of the north,” he said solemnly. 

Sansa stared up at the sky and then at him again. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his mouth. A small, fleeting thing, but one that left him staring down at her in surprise and serious. 

She laughed softly, “I thought perhaps it might be alright if I kissed my betrothed, the King.”

She abruptly stopped laughing when he took her lips again, this time in a longer and deeper kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers after releasing her lips. 

“You may kiss me anytime you like, sweetling, but certainly always under the stars,” he whispered to her and Sansa felt her heart swell with something she had thought lost. 

Hope. 

[nooneeverlookedforagirl]

AU where Drogo does not kill Viserys.

Jhiqui runs to him when Viserys drags Doreah to their tent by her hair. She says the foreigner is mad with anger and she fears for the khaleesi. He walks in just in time to see him slap Daenerys so hard she falls to the floor. Daenerys, the girl Viserys gifted him. Daenerys, his wife. Daenerys, the moon of his life. Daenerys with their son in her belly.

Whatever Viserys might have done or said after hitting her was nothing. His fierce little wife strikes him so hard across the face with a golden chain that it leaves a mark. He falls to the side just as Drogo reaches them, and he picks Viserys up by the throat with one hand.

Drogo might have killed him then and there, but his wife begs for his life. He is her brother, her only family, she says, in broken Dothraki. Perhaps he does not understand all the words, but he understands enough. Send him away, Daenerys pleads, but do not kill him.

It might have been better if he had. Viserys follows them on foot for many days. On their first encounter with another khalasar, just outside Vaes Dothrak, Drogo gifts him to the other khal. The Andal tells his wife, he knows, but she says nothing to him and if she is angry it does not show.

Then Drogo falls from his horse on the Dothraki Sea, and Daenerys is reborn in fire and blood. One of their children she names Viserion, for her brother.

When Daenerys burns the khals one of their riders brings her a gift. It's Viserys, filthy and despondent, but alive. Neither knows what quite to do with the other, the beggar king and the dragon queen. Still, for the blood they share, Daenerys gives him a simple tent and male servants and a single horse, and he rides with her when they leave.

He rides with her all the way to Meereen, for when she finds Drogon on the Great Grass Sea she tames him with nothing except a whip, her khalasar in awe as she lands him in their midst. She looks at Viserys, and he at her, and then she pulls him onto Drogon's scales and together the last dragons fly toward the besieged city.

Daenerys keeps looking at him like she expects a fit, like she expects him to demand what is rightfully his, from a crown or a Targaryen bride to rooms suitable for the queen's brother. He does none of that. When the city has calmed and the slavers have died, he goes to her in her counsel room and kneels before her, taking her hands in his.

"I'm sorry." Viserys says, looking up into her eyes. "I was a poor brother and a worse king. I hurt you, I thought only of myself, I sold you into slavery. I was young and afraid and desperate, but I should have protected you. All we had was each other."

This Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, she is above all a rescuer. Daenerys drowned the slaver cities in blood rather than leave strangers to their chains, she can scarcely abandon her own brother. Instead she drops to her knees beside him on the floor and tells him of all that has happened since they parted.

When she is done, Viserys says, "I cannot be the king. You must go on in my stead."

"The throne is yours by right." Dany replies.

Viserys pauses, then admits, "I can father no children, Dany. You are the last of our house. You hatched dragons and conquered cities. You must be the queen."

"The maegi said-"

"That you would go to the Dosh Khaleen and become one of them. Or that you would die on Drogo's funeral pyre." Her brother touches her face with a gentleness she has never felt from him before. "A witch who murdered your son and husband is not a reliable source of information, Dany."

"If one of us has a child, then they must take the throne," she insists, "I am the blood of the dragon and for that I ruled, but Viserys I only want peace. The little house with the lemon trees and the red door. Peace."

"Let us rule together, then. As brother and sister," Viserys tells her, "We are the last of our blood and we only have each other."

Then they return to Westeros, where Cersei and the White Walkers await them. The dragons do not allow Viserys to ride, but they seem to like him. Brother and sister, Viserys rides behind Dany on Drogon's back, the last dragons the five of them.

"You are not here to be queen of the ashes," Tyrion tells her.

"Nonsense," Viserys scoffs, "You've lived through a starving Kings Landing, Lord Tyrion. It's said they ripped people apart and ate them still living in front of your eyes."

Drogon burns the Red Keep to the ground with its inhabitants inside but saves thousands from starvation and wildfire. The siblings find Cersei dead on the throne, having poisoned herself, and Tyrion weeps over her. Daenerys returns her body to the Rock, for his sake, and names Olenna Tyrell their Hand.

"With the queen's permission I'll go north and take one," Jorah Mormont offers.

"None of our men are going beyond the Wall. This is all ridiculous. You, the "King in the North" are going to personally go to the most dangerous place in the world for the sake of Jaime Lannister and his men?" Viserys touches his sister's shoulder gently. "You can never trust a Lannister," he tells her, Tyrion looking more uncomfortable by the second, "when Tywin Lannister swore to our father that he would fight for him, he sacked the city and murdered Rhaegar's family. Rhaenys, all of three. Aegon, the rightful king. Elia of Dorne. Jaime Lannister himself broke his sworn oath to our father. Do not trust them. Do not."

Jon Snow goes without Jorah Mormont, and of all the men that step beyond the Wall only he makes it back, bloody and battered, barely alive. Those that had gone with him had traded their lives for his, and had died for nothing. Jon has his wight. Jaime Lannister does not stir from the Rock. Perhaps he swears not to attack them, but he did not have the strength to fight in the field anyway.

"You will rule wisely and well, while she-" Varys begins, but Jon cuts him off.

"If you want another ruler, go and speak to Viserys."

And Varys has, but whatever happened to him in Essos has made it so that he will hear not a word of it. What Varys did say he expects made it back to Daenerys. "Viserys is his father's son, just so, and Rhaegar's son comes before his brother."

Varys will burn that night, when Viserys and Jon both swear that he is a traitor. Viserys would burn Jon too, but Dany refuses him. Burning the North's chosen ruler will do little to make them love her, she says. I love him, she does not, but he hears anyway.

Viserys has seen Jon's eyes. He is a Targaryen, that one, not a Stark, not like his beloved Ned. He takes to wearing full armor, even on Dragonstone, and warns Grey Worm as well. They come to an understanding, if an uncertain one, for Grey Worm has lost Missandei and he will not lose her as well.

As the Red Keep is rebuilt, Dany goes to walk among the ruins. Sometimes she goes up to the Iron Throne, although that room has not been started yet, just to be alone and think. She takes no guards but her children. In the throne room, she welcomes Jon to her, angry or not. They argue.

Casterly Rock has burned, and Viserys is looking for his sister. He finds her usual guard in the hall, and asks where she is. "The throne room," they say, "Jon Snow is with her."

He starts to run. Alarmed, the Unsullied follow him. She had commanded to be left alone, but Jon Snow is one of her generals, one of her trusted allies. The queen has been alone with him before, in more intimate places, and

"You are my queen." Jon says, and she lets him embrace her. There is a blade in his belt, one that almost killed his brother. He reaches for it.

Yet Viserys is not fast enough. He is only a man, but Drogon is not. While he is not Viserys' in the way he is Daenerys', he still feels his fear, still knows it's for his mother. With a flap of his great wings he shakes the snow away and soars up to the ruined keep.

Viserys bursts into the throne room steps ahead of the guards to find Daenerys naked and on her knees, weeping over the corpse of her lover, half-burned away along with her clothes. He still holds the blade he would have killed her with.

Removing his cloak, he drapes it over her instead, hiding both her nakedness and the swell of her stomach as she cries. Viserys pulls her away from the body, turning her face into his shoulder. His mother was careful, so careful, to shelter him from the worst of his father's atrocities, but this is not the first time he has smelled burning flesh. It's all he can do to mummer in High Valyrian to his sister, trying to calm her.

"You were right." Are her first words. "I should never have trusted him. You were right."

Above them is Drogon, the son she bore from Khal Drogo's pyre. Because of her they sit in the halls their ancestors built and call themselves king and queen. Three cities yet stand in Essos, their slaves free for the first time in thousands upon thousands of years. All her doing.

Viserys accepted a long time ago that he was never going to take back the Seven Kingdoms. He was never going to go home. Yet here he stands, all because of his little sister. Viserys had wanted his father's throne; Daenerys envisioned a new world. Jon Snow is but dush and ash.

"No," he presses a kiss to her forehead, and tries to wipe away the tears. "You're a conqueror, Dany, you're a queen. He chose the old world, and you will craft a new one."

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Original Female Characters

These are all the Original Characters I have made for past, current, and coming soon stories.

Story: Timeless Warrior (Fandom: Lord of The Rings)

Name: Phoenix Garcia (formerly Phoenix Nowak)

Alias: Khaleesi, Dragon Rider

Age: 40 (shortly after the story begins she turns this age)

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: White. Mexican on her mother’s side, Polish on her father’s. Born and raised in Arizona, USA.

Hair: Dark brown before the war; silver due to stress of the war

Eyes: Blue-grey

Height: 5′5″

Species: human

Any Markings: A few tattoos: Valar Morghulis on the inside of her right wrist, Valar Dohaeris on the inside of her left wrist, the three-moon symbol for her pagan religion on her left shoulder, a skull with a chef’s hat and crossbones of a chef knife and whisk on the right shoulder, a red rose with one black pedal on the inside of her left bicep (a tribute to Rosa). Crisscross scars over her left eye from when she tried to save her wife’s life.

Powers: No known supernatural ones. Controls a mechanical dragon.

Relationship status: Widowed. Wife died saving her life

Spouse: Rosa Garcia. High school sweethearts. Built Meraxes to help win the war. Sacrificed herself to save Phoenix’s life.

Love Interest: Lord Elrond of Rivendell

Bio: Phoenix was born and raised in Phoenix, AZ as the oldest of two kids. Her mother was abusive and her father stayed married to keep the kids safe. Phoenix met Rosa in high school and the two became instant friends, starting a relationship their senior year. Rosa went off to get her degree and a job at NASA while Phoenix went to culinary school and opened a restaurant in Downtown Phoenix. The pair got married once it became legal in their country. They then sold the restaurant so the couple could move to Houston for Rosa’s job. Phoenix began teaching cooking classes that went virtual once a pandemic hit their country. Not even a year later, a war broke out and they found themselves leading a small group of survivors. With Rosa’s intelligence and connections, she got a group together to turn an old plane into a mechanical dragon. Unfortunately, Rosa was killed two years before the war ended and Phoenix blamed herself.

After the war, Phoenix accidentally flies through a portal into Middle Earth where more problems require her help.

Story: Let Nature Take Her Course (Fandom: Marvel/MCU)

Name: Juna, Last name Everhart created during the advent of last names.

Alias: Mother Nature, Mother of Mutants

Age: 20,000 years, give or take a century

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: Unknown

Hair: Black when undercover, green naturally

Eyes: Brown undercover, gold normally

Height: 5′4″

Species: First Man, First Mutant, External/Omega Mutant

Any Markings: None

Powers: Control of elements, weather, gravity, animals, use of lightning for teleportation, resistance to extreme heat and cold, faint connection to humans.

Relationship status: None. Finds it pointless as she never dies.

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Everett Ross, much to her annoyance.

Bio: Juna was one of the first species of humans to grace the earth. Born with a connection to the planet and humans, when they evolved, so did she so she would be able to blend in. She is responsible for the catastrophic events from the ice age ending to Pompeii, all in an effort to maintain the balance of earth and nature. She is not fond of humans and grows more and more annoyed with them as the years go by and the planet becomes more trashed. She’s not a villain, she just wants to save her home.

She doesn’t remember her parents, her family if she had one, or really anything of her past after the first one thousand years.

Story: Mirror (Fandom: Marvel/MCU)

Name: Sonya, No Last Name

Alias: Mirror

Age: 50, though the project to begin her cloning was in the 1940s

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: None - clone of Steve Rogers

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6′2″

Species: Human clone

Any Markings: None

Powers: Super strength, speed, healing that comes with the super-soldier project.

Relationship status: Casually dating Bucky Barnes

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Bucky Barnes

Bio: Created as a clone of Steve Rogers by Hydra, leading to the sharing of physical features. Trained by the best team Hydra has, she is very deadly.

Feared by Hydra, she was locked away until they felt they could have more control over her. But then she discovered her origins and snaps, breaking free and going on a rampage to destroy any and all Hydra facilities before focusing on her last target: Steve Rogers.

Story: The Hidden Realm (Upcoming. Fandom: Lord of The Rings/The Hobbit)

Name: Rhyannon

Alias: Queen of Tir Na Nog, Fae Queen

Age: 34,000 years old (Born at the end of Years of the Lamps)

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: Fae, Home: Tir Na Nog

Hair: Midnight Blue

Eyes: Midnight Blue

Height: 7′

Species: Fae

Any Markings: Has wings she keeps hidden until she uses her powers.

Powers: Spells, magic, flight, super strength, communication with animals, control the elements.

Relationship status: Single

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Lord Elrond

Bio: Rhyannon is the Queen of the Fae and one of the first of her kind. Tir Na Nog is her kingdom and was one of the first realms established in Middle Earth. Contrary to what the Elves know, the Fae were actually the first beings of Arda. This realm borders both Mirkwood and Dol Guldur, causing tension between all three realms.

Thranduil has been engaged in a petty battle with Rhyannon since his father passed (who started the battle). The problem is, the realm is hidden so no other Elves believe it exists. Until Rhyannon decides to crash the Midsummer Festival in Mirkwood.

Story: The Queen’s Guard (Upcoming. Fandom: Game of Thrones)

Name: Myria Storm

Alias: Storm Breaker

Age: 30

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: Bastard child of Storm’s End

Hair: Ebony

Eyes: Black

Height: 5′6″

Species: Human

Any Markings: A tattoo of a black rose, to show her loyalty to Olenna Tyrell.

Powers: None

Relationship status: None

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Jorah Mormont

Bio: Myria Storm is a bastard child of Storm’s End. When she hears of the killing of Robert Baratheon’s bastard children and what they look like, she suspects she is one and flees her home. Myria had learned to fight from her older brother and soon becomes a sellsword. By the time she reaches High Garden, her reputation precedes her and Olenna requests an audience with the young woman. She is offered a job as Olenna’s personal guard.

When Varys brings word of Daenerys Targaryen’s return, Olenna sends Myria to have Dragonstone prepared for the future queen. And when all parties officially meet, Myria is noticed by the Dragon Queen’s right-hand man, Jorah Mormont.

Story: Kings & Queens (Upcoming. Fandom: The Hobbit)

Name: Ladien Peredhel

Alias: Ladi

Age: 3,041

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: Half-Elf, Noldor, The Grey Havens

Hair: Red

Eyes: Dark Grey

Height: 6′6″

Species: Half-Elf, Half-Human

Any Markings: Tattoos on the top half of her body. Flames that wrap around her shoulders like a shawl

Powers: None

Relationship status: Single

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Thorin & Thranduil (Love Triangle)

Bio: Laddi was born in the Grey Havens to an Elf mother who sailed West shortly after Laddi reached maturity. Her father was a human who died of an illness. Because she is a Peredhel, she never felt she truly fit in with the other Elves in the Havens and left to travel Middle Earth.

She is resting in Rivendell when Thorin’s company arrives. Gandalf persuades her to join the cause in re-taking Erebor. Thorin begins to warm to her as they make their difficult journey north. When they get caught in Mirkwood, Legolas reports to his father, Thranduil, that there is an Elleth amongst the Dwarves. Confused and intrigued, he commands she be brought before him. And is shocked to see someone almost identical to the wife he lost long ago.

Story: Battle of the Billionaires (TBW, maybe. Fandoms: Marvel/DC)

Name: Mya, No Last Name

Alias: Elemental

Age: 1,500 years old

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: Mexican & Mexico

Hair: Black

Eyes: Grey

Height: 5′6″

Species: Mutant

Any Markings: None

Powers: Can control the four main elements: Earth, Air, Fire, Water (hence her name), super strength & speed, super healing.

Relationship status: Currently single. Briefly dated Diana Prince back on Themyscira and Alfred back in the 1970s

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Bruce Wayne & Tony Stark are making their bids known.

Bio: Born a mutant with the ability to heal from any wound and control the elements, Mya goes around helping humanity when she can. She mostly lends a hand to the X-Men or the Avengers when asked, until two friends of hers, Alfred Pennyworth & Diana Prince, ask for her help against Dark Side. Bruce Wayne takes an interest in her, but to his dismay, she is close friends with Tony Stark.

Story: If You Could Live Forever (Series. Fandom: MCU)

Name: Rose Fauna

Alias: Mother Nature

Age: Over 450 years (exact age unknown)

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: White/Germany

Hair: Silver (Changes colors when powers are used)

Eyes: Grey (Changes colors when powers are used)

Height: 5'5"

Species: Mutant

Any Markings: An old scar on the front of her body from when she was tortured as a child.

Powers: Controls the elements, controls animals, minimum flight ability, control of weather, uses the earth to heal, immortal.

Relationship status: On and off relationships with both Wolverine and Everett Ross, eventually married Everett

Spouse: Everett Ross

Love Interest: Wolverine & Everett Ross

Bio: Born during the time of the witch trials in Europe, Rose was proclaimed a witch when her mutant powers manifested. She was tortured and barely escaped with her life thanks to Loki and Thor. The Earth healed her and it was then she was given the gift of immortality. Ever since the trials, she has tried to stay hidden to stay safe.

Story: Against the Odds (Fandom: MCU/Olympus Has Fallen Crossover)

Name: Charlie Jones

Alias: Turbo

Age: 35

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: White, United States

Hair: Silver normally, Blue when using her powers

Eyes: Grey normally, Blue when using her powers

Height: 5'2"

Species: Mutant, Omega Mutant

Any Markings: None

Powers: Telekinesis, Telepathy, ability to make force fields, Omega Level Mutant

Relationship status: Single

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Mike Banning

Bio: Charolette (Charlie) is the youngest in her family. Her sister, Margaret, marries Ben Asher who eventually becomes the President of the United States. A family tragedy forces Charlie to go into hiding and for Margaret to lie and say she’s an only child to help Ben’s election. The return of Apocalypse brings everyone back together.

Story: Peredhel (Upcoming. Fandom: LoTR)

Name: Samantha Johnson

Alias: Sam

Age: 30

Race/Ethnicity/Home Country: White/Biracial/United States

Hair: Black

Eyes: Black

Height: 5'7"

Species: Human

Any Markings: None

Powers: None

Relationship status: Single

Spouse: None

Love Interest: Erestor Peredhel

Bio: Sam was a full-time chef and a part-time bartender when she accidentally finds herself in Middle Earth. Gandalf determines there is no way to send her home and so the Rohan take her in since it was their lands she appeared. After serving King Theoden for a few years, she travels all over Middle Earth learning different cooking techniques and even works at the Prancing Pony for a couple of years, where she meets and befriends Strider. Sam returns to Edoras just as a farewell party is being held for Elrond and Galadriel, where she meets Erestor.

[magalidragon]

riding the waves | a Jonerys drabble

a/n: I don’t know where this came from. Perhaps it will be a bigger fic one day. Damn I miss the beach. And surfing. **cries**

The alarm was set to go off in the next fifteen minutes, but she beat it every single morning, body trained since she was twelve to be up before the sun. Hopping out of the tangled sheets, the windows and doors of the bungalow perpetually thrown open, she took in the morning breeze, salty and full of promise for the new day.  She grinned, hearing the cresting of the waves, the battering of them against the beach just beyond the scrub grass and the sandy stretch beyond the open doors.  Loose gauzy netting hung from the open doors and she pushed it back, to step onto the porch, and inhale those first few crisp breaths.  She exhaled, eyes closed, and did a few sun salutations, opening her lungs and body to the day.  

Kirimvose, she silently thanked Caraxes, Meraxes, and Gaelithox.  God of the sea, Goddess of the sky, and God of fire, moon, stars, sun and the dawn, respectively.  She bounced back up to her feet, hurrying into the bungalow.  All of three rooms, it suited their purposes nicely; they were only ever in there long enough to sleep and half the time they slept out on the porch, beneath the stars anyway.  Any other length of time spent inside was solely when it stormed or rained.  Sometimes rarely then.

She pulled off the t-shirt she’d been sleeping in, tossing it into a pile on the floor with others.  The house was a pigsty; she’d been meaning to clean but hadn’t gotten around to it.  Too much to do on the outside.  She tugged open the drawer of the single chest in their room and plucked out a pair of red bikini bottoms and one of her favorite rash guards, a black and red with her three-headed dragon symbol emblazoned on the back.  

Once changed, she ran out, pausing long enough in the third room of their house to select the board she’d use that morning.  Out of the corner of her eye, her feisty half-feral cat Drogon hissed at her, as she’d apparently chosen a board, he’d been planning on sleeping on.  “Hush,” she chided him, ruffling his head on her way out.  “Go find someone else to annoy.”  He hopped off a board that was stretched over the table and went off to do just that.

She drove in her battered Jeep with the board sticking out the back with a few others to the beach nearest their house, choosing this one this morning because judging from the breeze, the waves, they would be hitting nicely off the reef and give her some good rides that morning.  She grabbed the board and ran off, that first plunge into the sea waking her up, stinging her eyes and bringing her to her happy place.

In the ocean, a bit far from the shore, she sat on her board, lazily bobbing and glanced at the rising sun.  She thanked the gods and goddesses again and then flattened herself, glancing over her shoulder when she saw the beginnings of a good wave.  Here we go, she thought, excited for the first of the day.  She began to paddle and then rose up on it, springing nimbly up onto the board, her core tight, body hunched, as it lifted her clear above the reef, the water, and almost into the sky itself.  

It crested, several feet, and she rode it sideways, heart pumping against her ribs, laughing as she reached the end and rode the board lazily towards the beach.  “Perfect!” she shouted, to no one.  She rolled off into the water, grinning, and grabbed her board, paddling back out again.

An hour or so later, as she crashed off during a particularly nasty wave, she caught sight of another rider, annoyed.  My beach, she scowled.  Even though the beaches belonged to everyone.  She tossed her wet braids over her shoulder, swimming back out, and waited, when she saw the blinding white board, with its red fins in the back.  She smiled as he swam towards her.  “Sȳz tubis issa jorrāelagon,” she greeted.

“Morning,” he replied.  He sat up on his board.  In the glow from the rising sun, he seemed to shine, somehow his skin retaining a paleness to it despite living full time in the heat and sun of the south.  He’d pulled his dark curls into a bun at the nape of his neck, some tendrils free and stuck around his temples, sea water glistening on his dark beard.  He glanced over his shoulder at the oncoming waves, smirking.  “Race you?”

She scowled.  “You’re on.”

They grabbed a couple of waves together; she was pleased that she beat him more than he did her.  Even if she did wipe out on the last one, taking it too fast.  She walked up onto the beach, board under her arm, as he came in after her.  “Where’s Ghost?” she asked.  

“Where else?’

They looked to the water and saw the white wolf-dog bobbing around, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, as he body-surfed in.  She grinned.  “Ghost the amazing surfing wolf!” she shouted, as he ran up onto the beach with them, dancing in the sand.  

“I should get a few more pictures of him for that magazine.”

Ghost the Amazing Surfing Wolf, viral sensation for his videos and shots on a surfboard, who helped keep them in rent and surfboards.  She grinned, leaning towards him.  “The invitational is next week; I’m going to kick your arse.”

He nipped her lower lip.  “No way.”  He was considerably less competitive than her overall, very chill, but when it came to the both of them competing against each other, it could get downright vicious.  He sighed hard.  “Davos wants me to do the Ice Wave Challenge again.”

“You win that every year, it’s not so much a challenge.”

“No.”  Very few people even bothered to try to surf the terrifying waves up off the coast of the North in the Shivering Sea.  Mostly because it was so cold everyone ended up in the hospital with hypothermia, except him.  He’d started trying to do it without a wetsuit, just to see if he could.  He still won.  

They looked around as more people started to pop up on the beach.  A group of teenagers jumped out of a fancy Jeep with brand new surfboards and tags still on their wetsuits.  One of them caught sight of her and shouted.  “Are you Daenerys Targaryen?”

“No,” she lied.

“Yeah right!  I know your silver hair!  Ya’ know, you should have lost that last one, they only gave you high marks cause’ you’re a chick!” The kid had a punk face, sneering.  He snorted.  “I bet I can beat you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Joffrey!”

She glanced sideways at her boyfriend, who was hiding a smile behind his hand.  “Alright Joffrey.  Let’s go then.”  

Several minutes later, Joffrey was eating sand and probably calling his mother to cry about how she destroyed him, and she was arm and arm with her better half, walking up to their respective cars.  Ghost bounced along behind them, chasing lizards into the grass.  “That was fun,” she announced.  

A few other people saw them in the parking lot, locals and the like.  Someone called out asking if they were Daenerys and Jon Snow.  “Shouldn’t you be Jon Sand, living in Dorne?” someone asked him.

He chuckled.  “Nope.  Doesn’t work like that.”

They signed a couple autographs and then hopped in their Jeeps, heading back to the bungalow.  She grabbed her board and began to work on it, waxing and checking the edges, while he whistled along and fed the animals.  It was a good day, she figured, when she finished, and changed out of her suit into a pair of jean shorts and one of her favorite bikini tops, going to join him on the porch.  He had his laptop open, was looking at video of the last invitational.  She studied the video he was watching and pointed.  “You came up too early there, lost speed.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Thank you, you’re not my coach.”

“No, just better than you.”

“I mean, no comment,” he teased.  She nudged the laptop away and sank into his lap, smacking a kiss on his lips.  He sighed, cuddling her, and both looked out at the Sunset Sea stretching out before them.  He idly brushed her drying silver curls over her shoulder.  “You know you could always try the Ice Wave Challenge.  Might give me some competition.”

“You know you don’t care about that.”

He grinned.  “Nope.”  He surfed because it was peaceful to him, as it was for her.  Except she also did it because she liked to win.  He sighed, glancing at Drogon taunting a poor lizard before he ate it.  “We should get Drogon on a board.”

Ghost perked up at that, red eyes blinking curiously.  Drogon hissed, grabbed the lizard, and pranced off, poker brush tail in the air.  Dany laughed.  “I don’t think so.”

“Hmm, worth a shot.”

After an hour or so of relaxing together, Dany got up, patting his knee.  “Come on.  The waves don’t wait for anyone.”  She pulled off her shorts and jumped off the porch, deciding to hang around the house for a bit before they went to one of the bigger beaches, with an audience, and actually practiced.  

Eventually, she ended up letting her board coast to the beach, his floating nearby, as they tangled up with each other in the water, letting it wash over them, and she kissed him like she had that first day she met him when she was thirteen years old on a family vacation, and both of them arguing over who could surf better.  The kid from the North who had more sunscreen on him than was left in the bottle or the girl from Valyria who was born on the water.  

Years later, they agreed it was a draw.  

[katastrophycal]

Okay y'all want full targ restoration au? Imagine a story with Rhaenys lives and raised by the Sand Snakes AND instead of Aegon living/Jon joining them give me a bastard Targaryen from either Aerys or Rhaegar combine it with Gendry's botched storyline of being a nobody raised to the throne...

Imagine the idea of this child (Let's call him Jaehaeron, after Jaehaerys I and Daeron II who are considered to be some of the best Targaryen kings). Jaehaeron, grew up a street rat (maybe we'll employ some of the Young Griff storyline and have him be a member of the Golden Company or have him be a sell sword with Daario) and knows the struggle of being lower class and fighting for a way to make something of himself. He's never had a family, anyone he's ever cared about he's lost, either to disease infighting, to the law etc. He's learned that he's just one of those people who doesn't get to be in a family.

Imagine him not knowing who he is, never known family and never wanting any, but he meets Daenerys. He joins her because he believes in her and her cause. He knows what it's like to fight for yourself but he wants to learn how to fight for those who can't do it themselves, and she seems like the right person to learn from. Daenerys knows the minute she sees him. Maybe she dreamt it, maybe she could see the ghost of her brother's in him, maybe blood just calls to blood. In any case, of course she hesitates at first to let him know. She gathers evidence from spies around the world, she studies his intentions/ his mannerisms/ his very heart to make sure that he's not like Viserys. And he's not, he's the first sign of home she's had in a long time. And she becomes his first taste of it, essentially granting him saftey to love people and not get killed over it.

Imagine Rhaenys training with the Snakes, surrounded by home and family, but still feeling like something is missing. Imagine her Uncle Oberyn bringing her news of Daenerys in Meereen. At first she's guilty for wanting to know her but Oberyn reassures her that no one can have too much family, in fact Daenerys across the sea might have too little. So she sets off, with the assurance that the full weight of Dorne is behind her. Imagine her meeting Daenerys, matching title for title and after the following silence grows to be too much Daenerys launches down from her seat and Rhaenys just knows that she's gained another sister. After hearing Jaehaeron's story she just gathers him up in her arms and bawls. While he can't replace Aegon, the hole in her chest labeled brother does shrink a little.

They work flawlessly together. Jaehaeron walks Rhaenys through life in Essos, maybe sprinkles in a little bit of personal stories. Dany and Rhae pour over the Targaryen history and tentatively start making plans for Valyria. Jay pretends to be not paying attention (he is) and he and Dany agree on most things and he actually sits in on a lot of her meetings with her citizens. They all have moments of impulsivity tempered with control, but generally Jaehaeron tends to be the patient one, he tends to wait for all the information to make a final decision. Daenerys has her ideals and her determination to make it happen. Rhaenys is very action oriented but also is aware that forgiveness can sometimes go a longer way than retribution.

He and Rhae both teach Daenerys how to fight. She comes out fighting best with an Arakh, which means after they teach the basics they bring in one of Daenerys' remaining Dothraki to teach her while they learn from Grey Worm (Missandei being taught as well) but generally the stick with the tools of their trades.

Daenerys introduces them to Viserion and Rhaegal and tells them of Drogon. As they grow closer to each other, they do so towards the dragons as well. You'd think Rhaenys would be drawn to Rhaegal but Rhaenys barely remembers her father so it's actually Viserion who she bonds with. In the right light his scales remind her of the sands of Dorne, his fire of the light that filtered through the tent she shared with the snakes, his eyes of each piece of gold she earned from their battles and conquests, and while she never knew Viserys she's not gonna let something like a bad namesake keep her from her dragon. Jaehaeron just thinks that Rhaegal exists to hate him. He shows no sign of interest towards Jay, so much so that it almost gives him a complex about not being a "true" Targaryen. But Jay is persistent. He's there whenever he can be, he's always the one to bring Rhaegal his meals, eventually he's able to get close enough to stroke the neck of Rhaegal and when they look into each other's eyes Jaehaeron realizes that it's not hatred or indifference, it's loneliness that's keeping Rhaegal from bonding with him. From then on Jay is in the line up the pyramid every day, to ask Dany to release the dragons from their cells.

Imagine if when Dany leaves on Drogon Tyrion does not start running things, Jay and Rhaenys do. Rhae judging from her experience and compassion, Jaehaeron from his knowledge on the ground and instincts. They take Tyrion's advice into account but also Missandei's, Grey Worm's, even Oberyn's opinions. Imagine Rhaenys truly getting to know the people, and slowly but surely she starts to fall in love with this land. Imagine Jay training the Meereeneans(?) Because the need to and because he doesn't want to see a single one of his citizens helpless. They follow in Dany's footsteps, ruling as she would, so when the slavers siege (because of course they would) the Targ's are ready for them. When Daenerys returns with the Dothraki she's met with her sister at the head of the Sand Snakes and the soldiers of Dorne. She sees her brother riding with the Second Sons and the Golden Company (who are now convinced honor is as good as gold). The battle for Meereen was over before it began, especially after the dragons join the fray. As soon as it's over Jaehaeron and Rhaenys are ecstatic (and also demand Dany teaches them how to ride).

Imagine if it's Oberyn who brings Olenna to Dany and her cause, and Yara knows Jay from years back so she's even more confident for her cause when she sees him at Daenerys' side. During her time away they managed to comission armor for the dragons and their riders. When Daenerys sets sail for Westeros her siblings are by her side, her dragons are safe above them, her best friends are at her back, and she has some of the wisest minds advising her (including/excluding Tyrion depending on how you feel about him). They have the Dothraki, the Unsullied, a decent amount of Ironborn, the Second Sons(with or without Daario depending on yada yada....), the Golden Company, and the whole Dornish army. They stayed long enough for the new Meereen Guard to have been sufficiently and leaders put in place. The citizen's hearts are behind their Targaryens and they know if they ever even fear trouble they will fly back to assure them.

Imagine that they do take King's Landing first. The dornish get the majority of the lower town evacuated before the gold cloaks even notice. The dragons decimate the scorpions early on, with only glancing blows thanks to the armor. Even the wildfire Cersei throws out as a last resort doesn't stop them and as the trio makes their way to the throne room they have to walk past the what little is left of Cersei's forces. They decide to pardon every soldier who bends the knee, the rest are set to work rebuilding the damage of the siege. Cersei is sentenced to execution, via dragonfire where the Sept of Baelor once stood.

Imagine that the Iron Throne does melt, but only enough to shape into a bench. Just like in Meereen, however this one is long enough to seat three. No arguments, no hesitation, the Targaryens work better as a family anyway.

They rule as one. They leave a small council in charge of King's Landing and set off to the rest of Westeros. They do meet some resistance but no one is strong enough to stand against them, and honestly after meeting them and hearing their vision no one even wants to. Then there's the north.

Depending on how anti stark you are you can visualize the war for the dawn however you like. But imagine them hearing through Jon's story, taking a stealth mission to observe the white walkers themselves. Imagine that in addition to granting them access to Dragonstone they also command soldiers from each kingdom. (Jon is... commanding troops? Attempting to make an alliance that doesn't have him bending the knee) Imagine a fleet of red Priestesses, giving their fire to each soldier (not just the dothraki cause why not??), Jorah fighting with Missandei and Grey Worm, and hiding Bran at the starks head table (which reminds us of Ned and how long it's been for all of them). Imagine not housing the innocents in the crypt (cause they have common sense) and actually send them to the godswood to be protected by some of their own soldiers but also Jay overhead on Rhaegal. Imagine Rhaenys on the front lines with Viserion lighting her way (no walker proof storyline=no Viserion death win-win). Imagine Danerys cutting the wights of from behind, and when spotting the night king she goes to meet him. (However you view the show end to the NK/the prince who was promised prophecy this is gonna Dany, sorry).

Imagine Jaehaeron fighting like hell for Winterfells innocents, dancing through the fire almost as though he's a part of it. Nothing seems to touch him. Imagine Rhaenys cutting through wights like paper, grinning from ear to ear cause she's riding on the battle high and the strength of the Sand Snake around her. Imagine that when Drogon's fire doesn't work, the Night King throws a sword into Dany's child's chest. She pulls it out of his chest plate(again thank you armor) and Drogon lights it ablaze. She meets the monster for blow. Seeing her in danger both Jaehaeron and Rhaenys make their way to her. Imagine the Night King dealing her a viscous blow but getting knocked down by a spear from Rhae and kept distracted by Jay. They give Dany enough time to stab the so called king in the back (mirroring when her father was lost and their kingdom was officially lost to them; all these years later her family is remade and the kingdom is theirs again). As Jon sees them from the remains of the wights, let's pretend no r+l=j or at least he doesn't know and if he found out there's no way he gets enough support to take the throne from them or feel the need to. He decides to bend the knee, only to find that the Targaryens don't really plan on keeping the kingdoms together, as they were anyway.

Being rulers does have its share of problems, especially as they dissolve the country into something more democratic but they make it work. One of them is always in Kings Landing, even with Rhaenys' frequent trips to Dorne and Meereen, Jaehaeron's explorations of Essos and his quest to rebuild Valyria, and Daenerys' continues mission to make every land truly free. They always make time for their people and each other.

And so while Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons she is also the Hero of the People, Rhaenys is the Fierce Queen from Dorne, and Jay is declared Jaehaeron the Fortunate and he cannot find reason to disagree. They each have their titles, their armies, their stories. But they also have each other. After all, the dragon has three heads.

[fanpom-imagines]

Imagine being a descendant of dragon slayers in Westerns and Jon asking for you to help with the White Walkers while Daenerys wants you to bend the knee as well. (Part 1)

Masterlist (Part 1) [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Words: 1675

Warnings: sassy reader and impressed Sansa

Gifs aren’t mine.

(Edited: Decided to make this into a series of sorts)

(Female Reader)

“The world really must be coming to an end.” I said as I looked down at the King of the North from my seat in my throne. King Snow just gave me a look of puzzlement as he didn’t not understand or expect my reply, so I carried on. “So what I know so far is that this self proclaimed Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt, and la la la something Targaryen,  wants my people’s and I’s assistance?”

“Yes, your Grace,” Jon nodded in conformation.

“Do you understand how absurd that sounds to me?” I asked him as I raised a brow.

Jon looked around and then back at Ser Daavos who looked about as clueless as him.

I sighed out and answered my own question for him, “My people are descendants of dragon slayers and have had quarrels and wars with the Targaryens for years. They are dragon riders while we are dragon slayers yet you stand here before me expecting me to fight along a woman who’s people had almost eradicated mine and had sent us into exile on an island where we could barely survive?”

Jon looked shocked, but then he quickly pulled himself back into his warrior like stance and told me, “Your Grace I am not asking you to forget your rivalries with the Queen I just ask for your alliance during this war against the dead. Winter is Coming and it seems like it’s going to stay for a long time.”

He definitely had a way with words. No wonder he was crowned as the King of the North, and I do have to admire the fact that he laid down his crown in order to gain an alliance with the Targaryen girl in favor of his people. I contemplated his words for a few minutes and I could feel the air of anticipation rising around me.

“My people and I will help to protect one another from the dead.” I told him and I could see a slight wave of relief in his eyes as he heard those words.

“Thank you, your Grace, we-” I cut Jon off before he continued.

“Thank me when we win the war,” I smile at him and stand up. The two of us bow to one another and he leaves to gather his things and I then start to already pick out men I’m going to bring along with me to officially band together this alliance with the queen.

On the next day the men I had order to come along, King Snow, Ser Daavos, and I made our way to Winterfell which took a few days as we had to use our ships to sail to the mainland. Not a long trip as our island, Ossēnagon, was only around a day and a half away from Westeros. Over the course of that day I asked Jon about the North and what he had been through since I had only heard tales and wanted to know if they were just rumors or if they were truth, and over the course of our trip I came to respect him, yet I did not trust him, but he was a noble and honest man and I admire that in him. It’s a shame he’s not a King no more.

When we had made it to Winterfell Jon showed my guards and I where to stay and then bid me a good night and told me that the next day the queen would like to speak with me. I thanked him and bid him a good night as well.

I fell asleep wondering about Westeros. I never stepped foot on the Land of the Seven Kingdoms before. I had gone to Essos before to see the Free Cities and to gaze upon the Giant guarding Braavos and to gaze around and see all the different people and cultures, but that was when I was younger. Now the whole worlds at war and I have no family to guide me. I envied that about Snow. He had lost a lot, but he still had his family left. Then my mind wandered to the Queen. She had lost her whole family like I had. I guess we are not so different after all, it seems. Yet I still bared hate for her, but my people didn’t come first, and I swore a vow to keep them safe even if it cost me my life and or my legacy.

I woke up with a knock on my door. It was one of my men telling me that the queen will want to see me in about an hour. I replied that i’d be ready and got into my clothing and ate the food they had brought me about thirty minutes before my expected official arrival in front of the Queen.

I heard another knock not soon after finishing and saw it was one of the Queen’s Unsullied. I’d only heard tales about them, and while we were walking rather than my mind being occupied with meeting the Queen I was more focused on the fact that if it was true about them having their parts cut off. That must be very painful, but it also is most likely the reason they’re fearless.

As I walk through the doors into a room where the Queen, King Snow (well he’s not a king anymore, but he still seems to me as one), and a woman who I assume is Lady Sansa Stark are sitting next to one another behind a long wooden table with Ser Daavos, a young girl who stood up proud, a woman with dark frilly hair, a boy sitting in a chair with a wheels to push it with eyes that seemed to stare into ones’ soul, and a man small of stature who, stood behind them while what I assumed to be the lords and ladies of the North and the Southern Houses that the Queen has convinced to have the join their forces were sitting on both sides of the room.

I had to admit they did seem stern and intimidating; the Queen especially, but of what I heard of her past I could understand why.

“It’s a pleasure to have you, Lady (Y/N),” the Queen greeted, which I didn’t not one bit like. She referred to me as Lady, not Queen or your Grace where as Jon Snow had. Now I’m starting to doubt that Jon had told me the whole truth when he had showed up at the doorsteps of my castle.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Daenerys,” I shot back my smile slightly moving into a smirk.

I saw, who I assumed to be Lady Sansa Stark, smirk at my reply while I heard a few murmurs coming from both sides of the room and I also saw the slight, shocked eyebrow raise from Jon Snow. Daenerys on the other hand was not pleased.

“You forget yourself, Lady (Y/N),” Daenerys warned, but I just replied.

“No, you forget yourself, Lady Daenerys. You and I are both Queens of equal status. So if you regard me as Lady I shall also refer to you as Lady.”

“You dare say such things to me in my kingdom?”

“Last I checked a Lannister still sits on the Iron Throne.” I replied to her sharply and the whole room went silent. Daenerys may not have shown that she was furious, but her eyes defnitely did.

“I hope you realize, zaldrīzes ossēnagoner, that I am of dragons blood and my fury is just as vicious as a dragon’s, if not more.” Daenerys warned, and by now she was standing glaring daggers into me which I rivaled with my own glare.

“Do not forget, zaldrīzes kipagīros, my people bathed in dragon blood, and we’ll gladly do it again,” I told her and I saw a Lady Sansa and the girl behind her smirk. I heard some shouts come from all around and anger starting to be fueled by my comment

Before Daenerys could reply Jon quickly stood up to stop this argument before it became any worse, “Your Grace and My Queen we are not here to fight one another we are here to defend our people. So for the good of those who you’ve sworn to protect please put them aside for at least till the end of this war. Because right now anyone who is alive is an ally and should be regarded as such because that is the only way our world has a chance at survival.” Again the whole room fell silent at Jon’s command, and that snapped both Daenerys and I back. As everyone goes back to their original seats and the room once again seems to calm down lady Sansa starts to speak.

“Your Grace it is a great honor to have you here, I am Lady Sansa of House Stark. We ask for your assistance and alliance in this war, and I assume you my brother has explained why,” she motions to Jon and I nod in conformation, “So then I won’t bore you with the details, but we do ask you to agree to this alliance and its terms in front of not just us, but the people as well.” She says gesturing to the people around her.

I look around and then I look back to the three sitting in front of me. Lady Sansa seems to have some form of respect for me, Jon’s eyes on the other hand are filled with hope, but also worry, while Daenerys’ eyes stare at me coldly with slight waves of anger swirling around within them.

“I accept this alliance and will grant you the support of as many men as I can supply and anything else that will help you win this war. I swear by the powers of Ice and Fire.” I vowed as I bowed as well as spoke the motto of my house: ‘By the powers of Ice and Fire.’

Talglist:

@bee-wrecker @boogiebunnies @precious-bands-love @supernaturaltrashy@immortal-imagination @mikariell95 @saoirsewhittle​ @jinx-is-fire

[saelwen]

The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Thranduil

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter1

Masterlist

Summary:After Daenerys death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost with out her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races. 

Warnings:Angst

Words:1,500

Tears were running down my face, my knees fell on the floor. In front of me was the body of my beloved mother, with a dagger on her rib cage “No! No! No!” I whisper to myself. Jon stare to me with a guilty look “Daenys...I’m sorry...” I lift my gaze from my mother corpse to him, furiously looking at him with my violet eyes “WHY?” I scream to him. Jon was about to talk when we heard Drogon roaring and walk to Daenerys body, rubbing his snout on her body, trying to wake her up. He then looks to Jon, lifting his head high, growling to him. I walk forward, staying between them. Putting my hand on Drogon neck “Everything she did for you! The sacrifice that she did for you and for the North!” he took a deep breath, tightened his hands “Daenys...Your mother was mad. What she did to Kings Landing was horrible. The innocent people and children that she killed... There was no excuse.” my body start shaking when he finishes. This bastard! He should burn. My mother did what should have been done. If she became mad then was they fault who turn her like this.  

Drogon starts roaring loudly, almost making the red keep shaking with his screams. He was mourning the loss of his rider...of his mother. Then he pushes his head high in the air, took a deep breath and set fire to the Iron Throne, putting all his rage and anguish on the throne. Me and Jon stand there with a shocked face, watching the iron melting with his hot fire.  

When Drogon stopped, the throne was just a puddle of melted iron, still with some parts on fire. We stay there for a moment, watching to where would be the Iron Throne that’s now was just a big hole, an empty space. Drogon pick up Daenerys with his claw, he lowers his shoulder, letting me mount him to his back. I try to clean my tears as I climb to his back, pushing some pieces silver hair behind my ear. I grab the spikes on his back, sitting comfortably. Looking to the sea in front of me, I will take her to Valyria, buried her there with all of our ancestors. Taking a deep breath “Valand.” with my order, Drogon jumps in air, flapping his wings, taking us to our home.

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

I stare to her face which was losing her beautiful color. I’ve put her in stone bench surrounded by red roses. One of my tears have fallen to her soft cheek “Rest well, mother....I love you so much...” my lower lips start shaking as I try to stay strong like she was. Drogon lower himself, rubbing his snout on my back, trying to comfort me “Looks like we are alone.” I say to him, giving him a little pet “A Targaryen all alone in the world it’s a terrible thing....” I whisper to myself.

I should go back and continue what my mother left to do but I couldn’t...i couldn’t rule the seven kingdoms, I'm not like my mother, not strong like her. I’m not even like my father, from all the tales that my mother told me about him. His name was Khal Drogo and the story that would always fascinate me was how my parents fall in love and how he promises to my mother that he would give her the seven kingdoms. The only thing that I inherited from him was my light brown skin, the rest was from my mother. Everyone says that I look just like her but with light brown skin, with my long silver hair and violet eyes.  

I kiss each of her soft cold cheeks “Good bye.... Muñnykeā(Mother)” I took a step back, look to Drogon then to her “...Dracarys...” with that he set fire to the corpse of my mother, giving her a true Targaryen funeral.

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

The sun start rising up from the horizon, letting the sunlight bathe me with a warm feeling. I stir as I feel a warm breath tickling my face, opening my eyes I saw Drogon looking at me with tired eyes. I stand up from where I was lying down, looking around, I saw that where my mother body was, it’s now a pile of ashes. I stay here all night, watching her body burn. Tears begin rising up again. What will I do without her? I know that anyone, except the unsullied and the dothraki, don’t want to see another Targaryen on the Throne. Maybe I should return to Meereen, there I have a home and some friends. I look to Drogon “Well, Drogon....Let’s go visiting some friends.” with that I climb his wing and sit on his back, grabbing his spikes “Valand.” and with that we start flying towards Meereen.

During the trip, I notice something strange on the clouds. They were almost pitch-black and it wasn’t very normal, it looks like a storm.  

We start getting closer, the winds were stronger and colder. I grasp tightly on the spikes for not falling over of Drogon. This isn’t normal! A huge thunder blew in front of us, making Drogon disoriented, I try to led him lower, to get out of the storm but he unbalanced by the strong winds. We start falling, a scream escape from me as I cling to Drogon. Suddenly the storm stops, making Drogon balances again and land on a vast tall grass.

I stay on him, trying to catch my breath and looking to my surroundings. Where the hell am I? I don’t remember this place. It’s mostly all trees and grass around us, with a road some yards ahead. Fuck! Everything in my life is happening horribly badly.  

Suddenly I hear a wagon coming closer, I look to my right and saw an old man driving a wagon that was full of ...colorful sticks? The old man was wearing a grey robe, with a pointy grey hat. Maybe I could ask him where am I, “Excuse me, Sir?” I yell to him as he was a bit far from me. The old man stops and look at me and Drogon with huge wide eyes, the smoking pipe falls from his mouth as it was hanging open.Shit! Maybe it was a bad idea since I was mounting a dragon. The old man jumps from the wagon and grab his strange wood stick “WHO ARE YOU!? WERE YOU SENT BY THE DARK LORD?!” the old man yelled to me as a light start forming on the end of his wood stick. What the hell?! Dark Lord?! I lift my hands up, showing him that I'm not a threat “Please, sir! I won’t do any harm! I just wanted to ask you where am I? And in what direction it’s Meereen?” I said quickly. The old man stops the light and looks to me confused, he walked closer to me, eyeing to Drogon “What’s your name, Young Lady?” he asks, observing Drogon like it’s was a beautiful artifact “My name is Daenys Targaryen. And what is yours?” I said politely “I’m Gandalf The Grey, my Lady. Nice to meet you.” I nod “I notice now that you aren’t from here and what beautiful...beast that you have there.” he said, nodding to Drogon. I start feeling rage boiling on my blood. Mother always hated when people call beasts to her children “No! I’m not from here...and he’s not a beast! He’s my friend.” I said firmly “Now, could you tell me where am I?” he nods “You are close to the Shire, in Middle-Earth!” What? Shire? Middle-Earth? I don’t know those places. I never heard about them.  

Gandalf must notice my confused state “My Lady, I see that you have questions and I love it to tell you everything but you can’t stay here with your friend! It's to dangerous. Follow me, I have a cabin near. There you could rest and hide the dragon, also answering some of my questions.” with that he jumps to his wagon and order the horse to move. I stay there thinking if I should follow him. What if he kills me? Or worse...No! He couldn’t do anything because Drogon is near.

Sighing, me and Drogon start following him. Let’s hope that everything will be okay.

Hey Guys!!! Here the first chapter of the new series. I really like it writing this. Hope you like it. Feel free to comment and tell me what you think.

XOXO

Taglist: @llama2264​ @tigereyesf​ @aeryntheofficial​ @crazyonesarethebest​ @yes-captainstark​ @ultrabumblebeeisus​ @gwendelerynan​ @icarus-fell-in-spring​ @numwoon44​ @danri-and-thomas​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @lespaceboi​ 

[awolfhasnoname]

Dragon Rider

Part Two

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, mentions of the dead, usual GoT warnings

Words: 1.3K

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or gif(s) used below.

Sandor could see the impatience in Cersei’s eyes while they were all gathered in the Dragonpit waiting for the Dragon Queen to arrive. “Where is she?” Cersei questioned impatiently. “She’ll be here soon.” Tyrion muttered. “Didn’t travel with you then.” She pressed, but before Tyrion could respond a screech was heard over head. Sandor still didn’t think he would ever get used to hearing or seeing the beasts but couldn’t help the chuckle as he watched the shock on the faces of the Lannister twins and their guards.

Two dragons soared over head, roaring in anticipation as they began landing on the ruined walls of the Dragonpit.  Screeching in the direction of the enemy, warnings being sent as they guarded their riders before slowly lowering them to the ground. Daenerys was the first to reach the ground and all eyes fell on her as the strode up towards the Lannister, but Sandor’s eyes fell onto the second of the sisters. Her hair falling slightly onto her face as she stepped down turning to place a reassuring hand to the side of Rhaegal’s head. The beast seemed to lean against the outstretched hand before taking off again to circle above with Drogon, watching for any trouble that may occur to the Targaryen girls. Y/N followed her sister towards the gathering before glancing at Sandor as he passed her heading towards the steps, a slight smile pulling at her lips as she gave a small nod before taking her place by her sister’s side.

“We’ve been here for some time.” The Lannister woman practically spat at Daenerys. Y/N couldn’t help the growl of her tone “And now were here, so shall we begin.” Earning a hateful glare that could almost match her own. Almost. Tyrion and Jon went about explaining the issue at hand but Cersei didn’t seem to be paying attention to any of it, making quip remarks not taking any of it seriously. Jon tried to reason “Lord Tyrion tells me a million people live in this city. They are about to become a million more soldiers in the army of the dead.” Cersei still not being convinced she retorted, “I imagine for most of them it would be an improvement.”

Y/N had enough, practically stomping towards the so-called queen all eyes turned on her as her voice boomed through the empty ruins. “This is serious. Do you not care for your people at all? Are you so hung up on your pride that you will let millions die just so you may die with that crown atop your head?” She could feel the blood pumping through her veins, heat rising in her as Cersei responded. “I don’t think it’s serious at all. I think it’s a bad joke. The word of a usurper.” She stated turning her head to face the dragon queen, Y/N stepped forward, hand itching to reach for the hilt of her sword, opening her mouth to spit another retort before being interrupted by Tyrion. “There is no conversation that will undo the past 50 years, we have something to show you.” Y/N turned not noticing that Sandor had returned with the large crate.

She strode over taking her place next to Sandor as he placed the crate down, feeling his eyes on her while she did so. She met his gaze before a slight chuckle left her lips and his heart fluttered at the sound. “Lucky I let you live, I wouldn’t want to have carried this thing.” She joked, Sandor finally tore his eyes from her gaze and grunted in response. The pair each unbolted one side letting the metal fall to the ground, Y/N took out her sword whilst Sandor removed the top from the large crate. No movement, nothing stirred from inside the box. Sandor and Y/N exchanged a glance before she nodded, giving him the signal to kick the crate over. As he did a screech ripped through the air and the undead soldier tumbled out practically sprinting towards Cersei. Y/N took slight delight in the fear in Cersei’s eyes and on her face. Sandor quickly grabbed the chain pulling the undead beast back, it stood and immediately ran towards Sandor, Y/N was quick to put her sword straight through the wight cutting it in half.

Jon went about explaining to Cersei how to kill them, “…That is the fate of everyone in this world.” He finished before shoving the dragonglass blade through the wights chest. Y/N strode back to her sisters side.

The discussion continued and Cersei agreed to the truce on the condition that the Snow boy pledge to not fight in the upcoming wars between the Queens. Which the bastard refused, pledging his allegiance to House Targaryen.

“Then there is nothing left to discuss,” she spoke through gritted teeth, “The dead will come north first and when you’re finished dealing with them. We will deal with whatever is left of you.” Y/N stood, hand on the hilt of her sword as Cersei strode forward but Dany simply placed a hand on her sisters arm forcing her to sit. The group began to berate Jon for his choices, insisting he should’ve taken Cersei’s terms, Y/N had enough of the chatting. She stood and stomped straight over to Jon, anger and pain the only thing showing in her eyes. “Viserion died so that we could be here. If it’s all for nothing, then he died for nothing.” Her voice breaking on the last part of her sentence. She turned quickly on her feet in the direction of the exit, Rhaegal had begun descending towards his rider. As she waited for him to land a rough hand grabbed her, causing her to turn to the man in question. “It’s not safe to leave,” he grunted, causing her to scoff “It’s not safe anywhere,” turning back to see Rhaegal land near her as she continued softly, “But I think we’ll be alright.” As Rhaegal stepped towards the pair he noticed the hand wrapped around his riders’ arm and immediately let out a warning screech as his head leaned towards the tall man. Y/N just let out a laugh once again looking up at a wide eyed Sandor, “It’s okay, he won’t hurt you,” the mischievous glint returning to her eyes as she continued, “Unless I tell him to that is.” Turning back, she walked towards Rhaegal, climbing up onto his back, returning another smile to the brute of a man before the pair took off.

“Crazy bitch,” was all he could mutter to himself as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well she has definitely been called worse.” He hears the soft voice and turns around in surprise. “Your Grace,” he mumbles seeing the dragon queen and the imp standing behind him, “If you’ll excuse me…” but she cut him off. “I haven’t seen her threaten many men and then let them live. I wonder what it is about you that made her decide to do so.” She stated looking him up and down. He could feel the slight heat of his cheeks at her words. “I don’t know you well ser Clegane, but Lord Tyrion seems to think you’re trustworthy, and I trust his judgement. Most of the time.” She gestured to the man beside her and took a step towards Sandor as she continued, “But I do know my sister and trust doesn’t come as easily to her. If broken there’s no way to mend it.” She turned back towards the group walking away from the brute, confusion clearly written all over his face. Tyrion takes this as his cue to step up to the man, “She’s telling you not to fuck it up.” He smirks before heading towards the exit to go after his sister.

Sandor just stands there, dumbfounded. Turning to watch the rider in the sky as Rhaegal circles over the Dragonpit with the beauty on his back. “Seven hells,” he mumbles and for the millionth time he wonders how he got himself into this whole mess.

Tag List:

@anita-e-taylor @madebyleftoversouls @shxrrybomb

[writerbri-archive]

Hi, you said you were taking prompts for Jonsa Stories. How bout for a prompt for Sansa dies and Jon begs Mel to bring her back.

This is very loosely tied to (show) canon. Very loosely. Canon is a distant spot on the horizon in relation to this fic. It may be better to see it as a future book canon fic. No s7 nonsense and really no s5 nonsense.

I hope that you like it! If you want a prompt filled, all you have to do is ask.

If he did not know better, he might have convinced himself that she simply slept. Her face looked almost serene and her hands were folded over her chest gracefully. She’d been arranged this way purposefully, with her silken hair draped about her shoulders just so and her ivory gown without a single wrinkle. Cersei had taken every effort, setting it all up to make the most of her death.

King’s Landing flew under Targaryen banners once more, not that it mattered much now. Even knowing that Cersei now languished in the deepest cell of the Red Keep’s dungeon could not bring him satisfaction. Not when the result of his own mistake led to this. His cousin laid out in death, nothing to be done for her bloodless lips or ice cold skin.

Jon felt tears prick at his eyes, even as he saw movement on the other side of the pedestal. This was entirely his fault. Sansa fought him relentlessly when he requested that she ride to Riverrun while they fought against the Night King and his army. He did not want her in Winterfell when it could so easily fall if their armies failed. At least at Riverrun, she might have a chance to ride for the coast and flee to the Free Cities. Yet she did not wish to go.

“Do not make me do this.”

It was the last thing that she said to him. From then on, every word she had for him was carried by way of a middleman. Arya or Sam, bringing him messages from her and relaying them back. Her eventual agreement came upon a piece of parchment that he kept with him even now, wishing him luck in the war to come as she submitted to his will. She left the next day in a caravan of those who could not fight.

It took less than a fortnight for several riders to return, exhausted from their relentless journey as they brought word of an abduction. The Lady of Winterfell, taken from their camp by sellswords who left behind a single message. Cersei always made clear her desire for revenge. Jon did not hesitate to demand that they take King’s Landing as soon as they could.

It was not soon enough.

He looked up at the figure that joined him, the sight of her chilling him to the bone as it always did. She stood out against the plain stones of the Great Hall, unbothered by the sight of his deceased cousin before them. She’d seen plenty of death in her time, and even commanded it herself. Jon watched her, knowing that she was his only chance. For he had no intention of riding north without Sansa at his side.

Even as he heard impatient shouting from the courtyard and the distant roars of circling dragons. Daenerys was determined to make her way north again, to focus on the threat beyond the Wall. The only thing that truly mattered to anyone else. But Jon could only see what was right in front of him. 

“Do it.”

Melisandre’s eyes flitted to him, almost amused at his request. He fought the angry rose that rose in his throat like bile, knowing that this was no time to shout and rage. Not when he needed her.

“I saw her death in the flames,” the woman said, reaching out to brush a touch over Sansa’s porcelain cheek. “It was not nearly as violent as yours. She drank the poison herself.”

Jon fought back a scoff, knowing that already. The former queen delighted in sharing the details as the Unsullied dragged her from the Iron Throne, cackling at the horror on his face as she told him how she forced Sansa to choose poison or death at the hands of her monstrous guard. Daenerys assured him that she would see justice before the sun set on that day, not that it mattered much.

Melisandre gave him a challenging look, forcing him to think on it. Could he really do it? Knowing what it was like to wake in that small chamber at Castle Black, shaking and cold like he’d never been. So cold that it felt as though he’d never get warm. Months and months passed until he saw Sansa again for the first time in years, brilliant and beautiful and so warm that she managed to chase away what cold remained.

Could he do it?

Tear her from whatever peace she might have found in death only to summon her back to a world full of darkness and suffering?

Could he really be so selfish?

“Please.”

With one word, in that one moment, Jon made it clear that he could not bring himself to care. Sansa may well hate him for this but he could bear it, so long as color bloomed in her cheeks again. So long as her eyes shone with life once more. So long as she lived through this long winter and lead the North into a time of thriving and prosperity. He would gladly lay down his life for such a future.

Melisandre’s eyes passed over his shoulder, gazing at someone else who stood behind him. When Jon turned, he saw Davos standing there, indecision written across his face. Anger brewed in the depths of his eyes, as it always did when he saw the Red Woman, but this was not the time for past grievances. Jon stared at him without flinching, anger and rage and desperation rising within him.

“For her,” he said, his voice cracking. “And for the whole of the North. We need her.”

Jon braced his hand upon the pedestal where she lay, realization crushing him beneath its heavy weight as a single tear traced a slow path down his cheek.

“I-” he could not bring himself to speak the words, though they rang true nonetheless.

I need her.

“You know what I require,” the Red Woman said to Davos.

He hesitated for a long moment, staring straight at Jon.

“You’re absolutely certain?”

Jon glanced at Sansa again, taking his time to look at her and reckon with the consequences of his actions. His faults. His mistakes.

“Do not make me do this.”

“I am,” he said, nodding his head.

Davos turned, leaving the room to seek out whatever they needed.

“It’s the right decision,” Melisandre said after a short, tense silence. “She will be important in the years to come.”

Jon looked up at her, a storm brewing in his dark eyes.

“She’s always been important.”

In the back of his mind, he felt aware of how strange it was, watching everything that Melisandre did and knowing that she did it with him. He couldn’t bring himself to pay her foreign chanting or odd ritual any mind, clutching Sansa’s old hand between both of his as he sat in the darkened chamber that they withdrew to on the Red Woman’s command. Davos looked unsettled where he hovered in the corner, serving as the only other witness.

Jon didn’t remember much about dying but he certainly remembered waking alone, something he wouldn’t condemn Sansa to suffer as well. He stared at her face, willing her to take the first breaths of her second life. He knew that it would take time and settled himself firmly in his seat when Melisandre stepped away and announced that she was done, her red form hazy through the smoke that filled the room.

“Are you certain that it will work?” Davos said, speaking the question that Jon feared to ask himself.

“That is for the gods to decide.”

Jon’s eyes darted away from Sansa’s face for just a moment, reacting to Melisandre’s odd words. She did not look back at him, arranging Sansa’s hair to hide the short lock that she clipped away.

“The gods?” Jon questioned.

Her eyes flitted to him and she lowered her head in one slow nod.

“There is more to this world than any of us can begin to understand,” she said, moving past him towards the door. “We all have our lessons. Make sure you learn from this one. She belongs at your side and no place else.”

Jon watched her go, a thousand thoughts flying through his head and yet none of them springing to his lips. All that he could do was sit and watch, waiting and waiting, praying more desperately than he had in a very long time. He didn’t see when Davos left, barely reacting to the other man’s pat on the shoulder. A servant came to fetch him for Cersei’s execution but he refused to leave, only moving from his seats when he heard shouts from the yard.

Crossing to the covered window, he pulled aside the heavy curtains and peered out in time to see Cersei being marched to where Daenerys stood just outside of the holdfast. They were surrounded by Unsullied and northmen both, all come to see the Lannister reign brought to an end. Jon watched only long enough to see Cersei lowered to her knees as Jorah Mormont approached with his sword. He would not stand by while Daenerys burned anyone, even Cersei Lannister.

Their words were lost on the wind as he turned away from the window but the sound of sword meeting flesh reached his ears well enough. Just as he heard the telling thump of a body hitting the ground, everything else grew still. Time itself seemed to stop as the world grew quiet for one heartbeat. Then another and another until the sweetest noise wrecked the silence. The greedy sound of air drawn into lungs.

He hurried for the bed as Sansa jerked, her fingers clawing at her throat as she gasped for breath. Jon seized her wrists to keep her from drawing blood, hushing her gently as he guided her trembling body up to sit. Wild blue eyes seized his in an unbroken gaze, her face filling with color as she grew still at his touch. There was something lost in her stare, a deep helplessness that struck at his heart.

“It’s okay,” he said, aiming for calm in his voice. “Just breathe. You’re safe now.”

Her eyes darted away from him, swinging about the room before settling on him once more. Lifting his hands to her cheeks, he felt the coldness of her skin and reached for his cloak, unclasping it to lay about her shoulders.

“I don’t…” her voice was raspy yet he could hear the melodic undertones of it. “I don’t understand. It-it was dark and I… I died.”

Horror crossed her face as tears sprung to her eyes.

“I died, Jon.”

He inhaled shakily, nodding his head.

“You did,” Jon said, refusing to look away from her. “And I’m sorry for it.”

Her hands lifted, clutching at his shoulders as a shudder wracked her form.

“I don’t understand. Jon, please. I don’t… I… how am I alive?”

Jon brushed her hair away from her face, knowing that his words might doom him.

“I had to,” he said, his eyes falling closed. “Gods help me, I had to do it.”

He braced himself for her anger but nearly fell from the bed when she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and her face pressing into his neck. He felt the wetness of her tears and could not help but let loose his own, gathering her close as they cried as one.

“I’m sorry,” Jon choked out, cursing his own selfishness even as a bigger part of him rejoiced that she was alive. “Sansa, I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything, simply clutching at him tighter. Neither moved again, nor did they speak. Time may have passed slowly or quickly or not at all, but they did not care. The world did not matter in that moment, in that room. Only this. Only them.

[dragonmartellstark]

AU Targaryen: Best destinations for the children of Jaehaerys I & Alysanne (1/13)

Aegon was born two months premature, born shortly after his mother was attacked in Maiden's Pool by the holy sisters. The prince was considered as white as snow and his cry as painful as that of a widow.

His father decided to put a dragon egg in his cradle thinking that in this way it would alleviate the pain of his offspring. It was thought that the prince would not survive his first month of life, but to the surprise of the masters, Aegon came to fulfill the first day of his name and that same day his dragon Valarr was born, which was black as night. Alysanne took great care of her eldest son and she believed that he could pass away. Aegon grew up as a thin, tall, pale child who was fond of reading, dragons, and the countryside.

Despite being a somewhat shy and fragile child, Aegon had a good relationship with his brothers, especially with Daenerys and Aemon with whom he shared studies, despite not being able to share games with them. In 60 a. C., his sister Daenerys sick with chills and together with her mother prayed continuously for the improvement of Daenerys. A month later her sister would supposedly survive when her white dragon was born.

In 62 a. C., After almost two years of the chills, Jaehaerys I and Alysanne formalize the engagement between Aegon with Daenerys in favor of Septon Barth, however the wedding would not take place until the betrothed were older. A year after getting engaged, Aegon rode his dragon for the first time, Valarr flying from the capital to Harrenhal and it is said that that trip mysteriously improved the prince's health, becoming a young man of good wit, sturdy arms and strong skin.

The prince of Dragonstone began to share some games with his brothers and especially with his sister Daenerys who was considered restless, happy and energetic. Septon Barth recommended to Jaehaerys I that Aegon join the Golden Cloaks stating that "A dragon rider and a future king must be a good warrior", this was well seen by the king, but the queen was afraid of what it could happen to your child during jousting practice. In the end, Jaehaerys managed to convince his beloved wife to allow his firstborn to begin to gain strength and protection for himself.

Aegon entered the Golden Cloaks when he was about 12 years old, but after a year he left due to his inexperience with the sword and bow being considered a young man with very limited strength. Two months later, the long-awaited wedding of the crown princes took place in the Red Keep, being an event much celebrated by the Seven Kingdoms.

Aegon & Daenerys were very close and everyone thought that they would be like their parents reigning in complete peace. The couple did not consume the bed until 70 a. C., when they were both adults, but Daenerys did not get pregnant until a year after she gave birth to a girl, Alysanne Targaryen who would be the wife of her uncle Valerion of hers and they would have a child.

In 73 a. C., her little Daena was born, who became her favorite daughter and a year later her first child, Aegon, was born, but he would die shortly after being born being the tragic death of her for the family. In 76 his third daughter was born, Maerys, who would be Lady of Casterly Rock and would have offspring.

In 78 Aenar would be born who would reach adulthood and have offspring, but would not become King. Three years after the birth of his heir, his little daughter Daena died of tuberculosis at the age of 8, this heartbreaking death for him and he kept the dragon egg that he had given him from which young Daenos was born. After the death of her daughter the couple distanced themselves a bit, but they reconciled again a few months later and in 84 a. C., Daeron is born that would be adviser of the currency and would have descendants. A year after this birth, the family decided to go to Dorne to visit his younger sister, Saera, who was Mistress of Spear of the Sun, and the brothers agreed that Prince Daeron would marry his cousin Maya Martell.

In 90 a. C., Daenerys gave birth to her last daughter, Shaera and this she would become Lady of the Valley by marrying the stepson of her aunt Daella, Lord Arryn. The couple lived in complete peace for ten years, spending their afternoons reading or taking care of their children & during that time their son Aenar married Jocasta Lannister, daughter of Lyman Lannister and Jocasta Tarbeck, but with her they did not have a good relationship due to the ambition that Jocasta had.

In 100 a. C., her mother Alysanne Targaryen died of old age and her death hurt her children a lot, but especially her husband who would miss her for many years. After his mother died, Aegon took over the regency when his father began to be less lucid and his regency is described as calm, in addition to being a thrifty prince.

Three years later, Jaehaerys I Targaryen passed away due to his advanced age, his death being just as tragic as that of the queen. Aegon ascended the throne as Aegon II Targaryen and Daenerys as his consort, being highly praised by the people.

The Reign of Aegon is described as quiet and a golden age when the "Scarlet Bank" or also known as "Band of the Dragon" was founded where all taxes were kept and used for the benefit of the people. That maneuver earned him the nickname "The Golden King" and the sympathy of the people.

In 108 a. C., was born his grandson, Aenys the only legitimate son of his son Aenar Targaryen. The birth of his male grandson further increased tensions between the kings and her daughter-in-law, Jocasta Lannister because she had given birth to the heir to the crown. Four years after the birth of Aenys, Prince Aenar died at 34 years of age of puerperal fever and little Aenys became Prince of Dragonstone.

The death of his son made Aegon II fear that if he died, his grandson would become King and his mother would take the regency, so he dictated in his will that his successor would be his wife, Daenerys until he came of age. of his grandson and that way there would be no ruler. This decision was not welcomed by some men who supported the mother of the young prince, but his younger brother Baelon, who was his Hand of the King, thought that it would be the best for the good of the people and the heir to the crown. Aegon declared to all Daenerys as his heir who would reign until the coming of age of Aenys something that was well seen by the people, but the courtiers did not see well that the prince of Dragonstone was displaced longer from the throne.

In 114 a. C., the kings suffered a poisoning attempt after a feast for the day of the name of the little Aenys and it is believed that it was a plan of Jocasta Lannister or her mother, Lady Tarbeck to get rid of both.

Despite this event, Aegon II's reign was one of complete peace even with the palatial plots of some of his relatives.

At the beginning of 118 a. C., the king began to suffer from serious health problems and ended up dying a month later at 66 years of age due to his advanced age. He was succeeded by his wife, Daenerys I Targaryen who would reign until her own death in 124 a. C. He was cremated and his ashes lie alongside those of his family.

Aegon II (53 d. C.-118 d. C.) Rey de los Siete Reinos

Aegon nació dos meses prematuro, había nacido poco después de que su madre fue atacada en Poza de la Doncella por las santas hermanas. El príncipe era considerado tan blanco como la nieve y su llanto tan doloroso como el de una viuda.

Su padre decidió poner un huevo de dragón en su cuna pensando que de esta forma aliviaría el dolor de su retoño. Se pensaba que el príncipe no sobreviviría a su primer mes de vida, pero para la sorpresa de los maestres, Aegon llego a cumplir su primer día del nombre y ese mismo día nació su dragón Valarr que era negro como la noche. Alysanne cuido con sumo cuidado a su hijo mayor y creía que este podría fallecer. Aegon creció como un niño delgado, de estatura alta y pálido que era aficionado a la lectura, a los dragones y el campo.

Pesé a ser un niño algo tímido y frágil, Aegon tuvo una buena relación con sus hermanos en especial con Daenerys y Aemon con los cuales compartía estudios pesé a no poder compartir juegos con ellos. En 60 d. C., su hermana Daenerys enfermo de escalofríos y junto a su madre rezaba continuamente por la mejoría de Daenerys. Un mes después su hermana sobreviviría supuestamente al nacer su dragón blanca.

En 62 d. C., tras casi dos años del escalofríos, Jaehaerys I y Alysanne formalizan el compromiso entre Aegon con Daenerys por favor del Septon Barth, sin embargo la boda no se realizaría hasta que los prometidos fueran mas mayores. Un año después de comprometerse, Aegon monto por primera vez su dragón, Valarr volando desde la capital hasta Harrenhal y se dice que aquel viaje mejoro misteriosamente la salud del príncipe volviéndose un joven de buen ingenio, brazos resistentes y con una piel fuerte.

El príncipe de Rocadragon empezó a compartir algunos juegos con sus hermanos y sobre todo con su hermana Daenerys que era considerada inquieta, alegre y energética. El septón Barth recomendó a Jaehaerys I que Aegon se uniera a las Capas Doradas afirmando que “Un jinete de dragón y un futuro rey debe de ser un buen guerrero”, esto fue bien visto por el rey, pero la reina tenia miedo de lo que podría pasarle a su hijo durante una practica de justa. Al final Jaehaerys logro convencer a su querida esposa de permitir que su primogénito empiece a adquirir fuerza y protección por el mismo.

Aegon entro en Las Capas Doradas cuando tenia unos 12 años de edad, pero al cabo de un año lo dejo debido a su inexperiencia con la espada y el arco siendo considerado un joven con una fuerza muy limitada. Dos meses mas tarde se celebro la esperada boda de los príncipes herederos en la Fortaleza Roja siendo un evento muy celebrado por los Siete Reinos.

Aegon & Daenerys eran muy cercanos y todos pensaban que serían como sus padres reinando en completa paz. La pareja no consumo el lecho hasta el 70 d. C., cuando ambos ya eran mayores de edad, pero Daenerys no quedo embarazada hasta un año después dando a luz a una niña, Alysanne Targaryen que sería la esposa de su tío Valerion y tendrían un hijo.

En 73 d. C., nace su pequeña Daena que se convirtió en su hija favorita y un año después nació su primer hijo, Aegon, pero este fallecería al poco de nacer siendo su muerte trágica para la familia. En el 76 nace su tercera hija, Maerys que sería Señora de Roca Casterly y tendría descendencia.

En 78 nacería Aenar que llegaría a edad adulta y tendría descendencia, pero no llegaría a ser Rey. Tres años después del nacimiento de su heredero falleció su pequeña Daena por tuberculosis a los 8 años siendo esta muerte desgarradora para el y conservo el huevo de dragón que le había otorgado del cual nació el joven Daenos. Tras la muerte de su hija la pareja se distancio un poco, pero volvieron a reconciliarse unos meses después y en 84 d. C., nace Daeron que sería consejero de la moneda y tendría descendencia. Un año después de este nacimiento, la familia decide partir a Dorne para visitar a su hermana menor, Saera que era Señora de Lanza del Sol y entre los hermanos acordaron que el príncipe Daeron se casaría con su prima Maya Martell.

En 90 d. C., Daenerys dio a luz a su ultima hija, Shaera y esta sería Señora del Valle al casarse con el hijastro de su tía Daella, Lord Arryn. La pareja vivió en completa paz por diez años pasando sus tardes leyendo o cuidando de sus hijos & durante ese tiempo su hijo Aenar se caso con Jocasta Lannister, hija de  Lyman Lannister y Jocasta Tarbeck, pero con esta no tuvieron buena relación por la ambición que Jocasta tenia.

En 100 d. C., falleció su madre Alysanne Targaryen por vejez y su muerte le dolió mucho a sus hijos, pero en especial a su marido que la añoraría por muchos años. Tras morir su madre, Aegon se encargo de la regencia cuando su padre empezó a estar menos lucido y se describe su regencia como tranquila, además de ser un príncipe ahorrador.

Tres años después falleció Jaehaerys I Targaryen por su avanzada edad siendo su muerte igual de trágica que la de la reina. Aegon subió al trono como Aegon II Targaryen y Daenerys como su consorte, siendo muy elogiados por el pueblo.

El Reinado de Aegon se describe como tranquilo y una época de oro cuando se fundo el “Banco Escarlata” o también conocido como “Bando del Dragón” donde todos los impuestos eran guardados y utilizados para beneficio del pueblo. Aquella maniobra le gano el apodo de “El rey Dorado” y la simpatía del pueblo.

En 108 d. C., nació su nieto, Aenys el único hijo legitimo de su hijo Aenar Targaryen. El nacimiento de su nieto varón hizo que incrementara mas las tensiones entre los reyes y su nuera, Jocasta Lannister debido a que había dado a luz al heredero de la corona. Cuatro años después del nacimiento de Aenys, el príncipe Aenar falleció a los 34 años de edad de fiebres puerperales y el pequeño Aenys se convirtió en Príncipe de Rocadragón.

La muerte de su hijo hizo temer a Aegon II de que si el fallecía su nieto se convierta en Rey y la madre de este tomara la regencia, por lo que dicto en su testamento que su sucesora sería su esposa, Daenerys hasta la mayoría de edad de su nieto y de esa forma no habría regente. Esta decisión no fue bien vista por algunos hombres que apoyaban a la madre del joven príncipe, pero su hermano menor Baelon, que era su Mano del Rey pensó que sería lo mejor por el bien del pueblo y del heredero de la corona. Aegon declaro ante todos a Daenerys como su heredera que reinaría hasta la mayoría de edad de Aenys algo que fue bien visto por el pueblo, pero los cortesanos no veían bien que el príncipe de Rocadragón fuera desplazado mas tiempo del trono.

En 114 d. C., los reyes sufrieron un intento de envenenamiento tras un banquete por el día del nombre del pequeño Aenys y se cree que fue plan de Jocasta Lannister o su madre, Lady Tarbeck para deshacerse de ambos.

Pesé a este acontecimiento el reinado de Aegon II fue de completa paz aun con las tramas palaciegas de algunos de sus familiares. 

A principios del 118 d. C., el rey empezó a sufrir de serios problemas de salud y acabo falleciendo un mes después a los 66 años de edad por su avanzada edad. Fue sucedido por su esposa, Daenerys I Targaryen que reinaría hasta su propia muerte en 124 d. C. Fue incinerado y sus cenizas reposan al lado de las de su familia.

[mmazzeroo]

Whispers of Freedom - ch.1

IT IS HERE!!! 😎

For getting this far as to post this I must thank a few people: @adecila and @tomakeitbeautifultolive for being the first ones to knowingly (unknowingly?) cheer me on. I didn't even know you and yet your encouraging comments made me believe that maybe I should actually try to write this thing. So thank you ladies! 

@helloimnotawesome and @callmedewitt for supporting me, cheering me on and letting me run ideas by you. 

Last but not least a big thank you to @northernlights37 for letting me borrow an idea from one of her stories and transfer it to mine 💕 and to @afcbrandon for helping me choose a title for this fic. 

Big thanks to my sis Val for going over this chapter and help fix my very late night / early morning ramblings + made the gorgeous moodboard. Lova ya, sis! 💖

Without further ado: Read it on AO3 or below:

Whispers of Freedom - ch.1: If by My Life or Death I Can Protect You, I Will

The flames of the funeral pyre fluttered in the wind; pulled and twisted in all directions. Black pillars of smoke blew into the wind, carrying ashes and remains straight out to the sea. Soon there'd be nothing left but the scorched ground the platform had been built upon. Stormcloud had set the pyre ablaze with his own flames before taking to the skies with a heart-breaking screech; leaving no doubt among the spectators how deeply pained the young dragon was by the loss of his rider.

It had been a small and private ceremony. No grand speeches, only silent tears and solemn faces. What could be said about someone who’d grown from a boy into a man while in a deep coma? Someone who’d spent half his life in a vegetative state, while his family kept hoping against hope that a miracle would happen?

While the Queen accompanied the small gathering back to the castle, the King opted to stay behind for a moment. Standing by himself, Aerys watched the last embers of his son's funeral pyre slowly burn out. Now all that remained were the memories of his sweet, little boy.

"I'm very sorry for Your loss, Your Majesty."

The voice - appearing out of nowhere - startled him. It was a familiar one though. Only one person known to him had a voice with the unique mix of heartfelt warmth and cool confidence of a battle-hardened commander.

"Thank you, Major Stark," he uttered. Taking a deep breathe, the King spoke again. "I tell myself he's finally at peace; something he'd long deserved."

"A comforting thought indeed, Your Majesty. May the Old Gods and the New bless the Prince when they greet him in the Heavens."

Slowly lifting his head, the King took in the view. It was a beautiful day at Dragonstone - the sun shone on a clear blue sky with no hint of a cloud in sight. Even the sea was relatively calm. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, enjoying the feeling of the cool wind on his face. The warmth of the sun was comforting, yet he had always preferred the wind - as had his youngest son. Viserys had loved the wind to such degree that he’d named his dragon after his absolute favourite kind of cloud - Stormcloud.

The little Prince had been so proud when his egg had hatched on his bed one night. As per ancient tradition, every Targaryen was given a dragon egg at birth, and child and egg would spend the nights together from then on. Every other child in the world had a teddy bear to hug at night - a Targaryen child had a dragon egg. Viserys had been five years old at the time and it had been very unexpected for the egg to hatch so early. Rhaegar’s egg didn’t hatch until he was 12, making his dragon, Moondancer, two years younger than Stormcloud. Daenerys’ little drama queen of a dragon, Bloodfyre, had burst through his shell, hissing and growling, on the Princess’ eighth nameday.

Viserys had been so excited to wake and see a tiny dragon sitting on his chest observing him, that he had shrieked with joy - startling the little thing who replied with a hiss.

The little Prince’s squeal had caused his guard, Sir Arthur, to barge into the bedroom causing even more hissing from the dragon. Since then, Stormcloud only hissed at humans he liked - everyone else would be ignored. The two had taken their first tentative flight five years later, no other Targaryen in recent history had had a dragon from such an early age. Sadly, Viserys and Stormcloud would be separated not long after.

"When you arrived this morning, you delivered condolences to the Queen and I on behalf of the Houses Stark and Dayne, so I take it this is of a more personal nature?"

"Affirmative, Sir."

“How many times must I tell you to call me ‘Aerys’?”

“At least once more, Sir.”

The King hummed briefly in response to that, a smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me, Major, do you take personal pleasure in sneaking up on old men such as myself?"

"My apologies, Your Majesty; force of habit.” Without looking, the King could tell the Major smiled. They knew each other well. ”You know us Faceless Men - we blend in with the shadows as with the lights, Sir."

"Oh, don’t remind me!” Huffing out a laugh he continued, “barely a month goes by without a complaint from Lord Baelish about how Jaqen has been ‘sneaking around’.” He shook his head lightly. “I shouldn’t be complaining, however - it used to be a weekly matter until one day during a Council meeting Olenna had enough.”

Aerys began chuckling as he conveyed the story: “She told him that if the Lord of the Vale didn’t like getting caught by a smarter and better predator then either he should learn from it or he could go hunting elsewhere. Either way she didn’t care, but if he whined to her one more time about the Faceless Men’s representative in the Council he could go, and I quote, shit himself.” The King was laughing so hard he’d barely been able to finish his story. “You should’ve seen Petyr’s face. It was priceless!” Bent over, hands clutching his thighs the King was wheezing with laughter.

A warm, firm hand gripped his shoulder. No words were exchanged but Aerys understood the concern implied, nonetheless. So, he straightened himself back up and took in a few deep breaths of fresh air to steady himself, the Major’s hand still resting on his shoulder. Gently, he removed it and gave it a tight squeeze.

“I’m alright, Lyanna. I promise.”

Lyanna answered with her signature warm smile and a curt nod before stepping away.

“‘Lord’ Petyr Baelish.” She spit, every word coated with venom. “Whatever You do, Your Majesty, I urge You to be careful around him in every aspect.”

“I trust him about as far as I can throw him.” The King snorted, “but without proof of any wrongdoings my hands are tied. Even Jaqen hasn’t found anything.”

“As member of the Council, Colonel H’ghar’s task is to collect intelligence reports from the kingdom regions and assess security threats etc., not to investigate individual cases, Sir.”

“Correct, so do you have any suggestions, Major?”

“Perhaps You should have someone else look into it, Sir.”

“Yes…  I should definitely have someone look into it,” the King replied thoughtfully.

“Say the word and someone will.”

“Consider the word said.”

“Consider the deed done, Sir.”

The two of them exchanged a knowing look before the King circled back to the matter of Olenna Tyrell:

“Not once have the Queen and I regretted our decision to make ‘the Queen of Thorns’ our Hand. That particular day though, oh that was one of her finer moments!” Aerys chuckled. “She’s heading a Council meeting as we speak. Thankfully, she’s handled the press as well the past couple of days...” His eyes drifted back to the few remaining embers.

“—with her usual velvety gloved iron-fist, Your Majesty, making it clear that no member of the royal family would be taking part in the media’s 24/7 tributes to Prince Viserys.”

Once again, he could hear the smile in Lyanna’s voice, enjoying whatever the Hand of the Monarchs must’ve said at the press conference. It was no secret that Olenna wasn’t a fan of the media. However, she tolerated the more serious media houses who did their due diligence, researched thoroughly, and brought facts and information to the masses. They were few and far between these days though. The tabloids on the other hand...well, the old Tyrell had famously told them to ‘piss off’, so no doubt she must’ve told them something similar this time around if the Major’s reaction was anything to go by.

“That bad?”

“They’ve been running almost non-stop stories about ‘the Little Hero Prince’, Sir.”

The King snorted and glared at the scorched dirt a short distance from where he and Lyanna stood before turning on his heels, moving swiftly back towards the castle with Lyanna following suit.

“They are not wrong to call him that, but….” Aerys stopped in his tracks and turned to face Lyanna. “Do they not know how many they hurt by repeating it for days on end? Do they not know the pain they inflict again and again AND AGAIN?!”

The characteristic grey eyes of a Stark looked at him, filled with sympathy. If anyone could understand the soul-crushing pain it was to have the tragic fate of a loved one smeared on front-pages, across the news and as a constant subject of discussion by self-declared pundits on whatever tv-show they could get their sleazy asses maneuvered into, it would be one of the Stark children.

Some twenty years ago the plane carrying the Duke of Winterfell and his heir exploded somewhere North of the Wall. The news was everywhere. Constantly. In Winterfell, a horrified widow was left with three devastated children. No one would tell her anything because no one knew anything. North of the Wall was still Freefolk territory and no search & rescue teams dared to enter without Freefolk guides to protect them. Meanwhile in King’s Landing a young King was scrambling to get as much information as he possibly could. He personally flew to Winterfell to deliver the unredacted report a week later.

After the explosion, the security in the North had become unstable, and the Duchess of Winterfell had resorted to send her children to safety in the South. Ned, Lya, and later Ben, were the only non-Targaryens to have lived on Dragonstone in centuries. Aerys had come to think of them as something akin to younger siblings.

The Duke of Winterfell had been of the old school, so poor 16-year-old Eddard Stark had not been taught the ins and outs of being a Lord. To make up for that, the King’s uncle, Prince Aemon, had taken the young Lord under his wings and given him a speed course. On his 18th nameday, Eddard Stark was named Duke of Winterfell - a title he still served with honour.

The explosion had brought two major changes with it: Firstly, a peace agreement with the Freefolk; essentially bringing them into the fold of the kingdom but as a Freefolk Reservation, thereby giving them the protection from outside threats as they needed, but also securing  their sovereignty to live and abide by their own law - within their territory - as they had required. Same format would be used with the Dothraki approximately a decade later.

Secondly, a Lord, including the King, would no longer travel with spouse and/or heir together in the same vehicle, train, ship or plane. This rule was the reason why Viserys, and not Rhaegar, had been with the King in Pentos when the assassination attempt on Khal Drogo and his wife had taken place.

“They know, Aerys,” Lyanna spoke quietly, softly. For the first time that day, she let her officer mask fall and showed him the heartbroken woman underneath. “They know, they just don’t care. They’ll claim the public has a right to know and thus they consider it their duty to inform.”

Aerys snorted. “Assholes,” he muttered under his breath.

Lyanna looked at him with a lopsided smile on her face. “Even Kings are allowed to cry, you know.”

“I’ve cried more than enough, Lyanna. I’m all cried out,” he confessed quietly. “But I don’t need to be reminded of that day. I remember all too well. I was there! Eleven years later and I can still see my little boy laying there in a pool of blood.” Despite his previous statement tears began burning in his eyes again, and he choked on the words as he whispered, “how am I ever supposed to forget that?”

“You’re not.” She wrapped her soft, warm palms around his own cold, fidgeting hands. “As a King, as a father, as a human being you’re not expected to forget a traumatic event like that, Aerys. What you experienced was every parent’s nightmare.”

“The Queen and I weren’t the only ones to suffer a terrible loss that day.” His voice was thick with sorrow and unshed tears. “Sir Arthur was shot in the back and is tied to a wheelchair for the rest of his life—

“—but he lives, Aerys,” Lyanna interjected optimistically.

“—Drogo’s Khalasar lost their beloved Khaleesi. The Khal himself lost his wife and mother of his sons - one of whom was only saved by an emergency caesarean section, for fuck’s sake!”

Aerys let go of her hands as he began pacing back and forth along the edge of the cliff, highly agitated and gesturing wildly with his hands and arms as he spoke.

“That is why I can’t forgive them, Lyanna! I just can’t.”

Waving his arm in the direction of the castle he continued, “I have an 11-year-old Dothraki boy in there, who does not need reminding of how the day of his birth also marked the day of other people’s death, including his own mother.”

He was back to pacing - now seasoned with kicking random pebbles off the cliff.

“Of course, I know,” he scuffed, “being a Dothraki born in the midst of blood and mayhem is practically a badge of honour for him. As a second son to the Khal he would not normally be deemed important, but due to circumstance of his birth they all view him almost equal to his older brother, Khalakka Najaho.”

Lyanna watched the King patiently as he continued his ranting.

“His father is the leader of the largest and most powerful Khalasar seen in many, many centuries, and yet that same man instantly decided to name his infant son after Westeros’ little dragon Prince.” Aerys choked on a new wave of tears threatening to break through his carefully constructed dam. Taken several deep breaths to steady himself, he continued in a more subdued tone. “Naming Vizharo bloodrider to the Queen’s unborn child was the ultimate acknowledgement of the sacrifice Viserys made that day.”

Lyanna walked over to stand next to her old friend, looping an arm around his back and waiting to speak until she had his full attention. When he turned his head and looked at her expectantly, sadness painted in every feature on his face, she spoke:

“Aerys, you need to listen to me carefully now; no interruptions. Alright?”

“Yes, Major.” A small jesting smile played on his lips.

Lyanna responded with a slow nod before she proceeded to speak in a warm, calm and clear voice: “A ten-year-old boy throwing himself in front of a gun with no care for himself is, to the Dothraki, not only a great warrior - he’s practically a God. To them Prince Viserys died 11 years ago in Illyrio Mopatis’ villa in Pentos. His body? No, but do they believe his spirit left his body then? Yes. His funeral today was a mere formality for the Dothraki.”

Aerys slumped down in the grass as she continued speaking, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“They’d seen him racing horses against Dothraki boys outside Pentos - and win. Khal Drogo himself witnessed him climb onto Stormcloud’s back like the dragon’s some sort of docile pet. To them, Prince Viserys had already proven his worth as a warrior. Fearlessly throwing himself in front of the Khaleesi, he died the most honourable death a Dothraki warrior can hope for.”

The King looked up at her with silent tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes pleading her to continue no matter how heart-wrecking it was for him to hear.

“Amid blood, death, bullets, screams and utter mayhem, an infant Dothraki boy was brought into this world - quietly observing his surroundings with big, bright eyes. Only the most courageous souls are born in such a fashion which lead to only one conclusion for the Khal: that his son’s the reincarnation of yours. ‘Vizhadi’ means silver in Dothraki; Viserys was the little silver Prince. Vizharo is twice-named after your son, Aerys. All of Drogo’s Khalasar view him as the spirit of a Targaryen prince living in the body of a Dothraki one.”

There was no stopping the flood of tears continually streaming down the King’s flushed cheeks. The dam had burst. This was the beginning of the closure he so badly needed.

“Khal Drogo didn’t make his youngest son Daenerys’ bloodrider solely because of Viserys’ sacrifice that day; he did it because he couldn’t imagine a better protector for the Princess than her own brave brother’s spirit residing in his son’s body.”

Lyanna crouched down next to Aerys as she handed him some tissues from her jacket pocket to wipe his eyes with.

Tenderly she whispered, “Aerys, Khal Drogo believes he only gave you back what was already yours - your son.”

Muttering under his breath he put words to his realisation, “bloodrider means ‘blood of my blood’.” The King was gasping for air in between sobs, fighting to gain control of his breathing - and himself - again.

“He was so excited to meet Dany; so excited to become a big brother...,” he muttered to himself. “When Rhaella went into early labour from the shock, I…. I was sure I would lose them all. I was so scared, Lyanna!” He choked on another sob, once again taking to stare into the horizon. “But our little Dany pulled through,” he sighed with relief.

“She’s strong, Aerys. A true dragon that one.”

“Strong as valyrian steel as her mother always says; and every day I thank the Gods I don’t believe in for letting us keep her - the same Gods I curse for taking away Viserys.”

Sat on the edge of the cliffs, staring at the sea, watching Moondancer and Stormcloud fishing, and feeling the wind on his face, he felt lighter than he had for a very long time. Maybe the Dothraki were on to something? As a Targaryen, he had been raised not to believe in any gods. What use were they to dragonriders? But just because Targaryens didn’t believe in deities didn’t mean they didn’t exist. How would he know, anyway? After all he was but a mere mortal King.

The tears slowly started to subside.

“Why have you never told me this before?” His voice was hoarse from crying.

“You weren’t ready, my friend.”

“You think I was ready now?”

She smiled, “no, but you needed to hear it.”

“Always trust Lyanna Stark to speak the truth,” he chuckled. “Now help an old man back on his feet.”

“Uncle Aemon isn’t here,” she joked, jumping to her feet and running across the field.

“You cheeky little..!” Aerys stood quickly to catch up with the laughing Major. A lost cause but he would give it a go anyway.

What a sight the two of them made: Lyanna Stark - Major and head of the Faceless Men’s base in Qohor, a liaison between the Dothraki and the Crown – chased by Aerys Targaryen – King of Westeros and the Nine Cities of Essos. Both laughing and giggling like children as they ran, skipped and jumped around the grass.

-----------

Stormcloud soared high above, shadowing the eagle circling the terrain further below. Jon could feel the dragon every time he warged into the majestic bird. Just at the edge of his mind there was a surge of warmth; a gentle sort of heat similar to that radiating off a small campfire at night. But it wasn’t supposed to be there. At all. Humans and dragons were off limits for wargs, his mothers always told him so. And if he could avoid it, he’d rather not invoke the anger of neither Lyanna Stark nor Ashara Dayne. Nothing in the world was worth paying that price.

Jon had arrived at Dragonstone the day prior together with uncle Oberyn. They flew in from Starfall after having spent a few weeks with uncle Arthur. This was his second year traveling with Prince Oberyn. He had seen the beauty of the Summer Sea, met the Sealord of Braavos, and stared in awe at giants and mammoths. It was a Dornish tradition that the heirs to the ancient houses would spend a good part of their adolescence traveling the world accompanied by a close relative – or in this case, an old family friend. To the Dornish it was considered an essential part of a proper education. How could you expect someone to serve, lead, or rule if that individual didn’t know the world? The only way to know the world was to see it, hear it, taste it, smell it, feel it and meet it head on.

With a rare few exceptions here and there, all houses of any importance in Westeros and the Nine Cities sent their heirs off to boarding school or military academies.

His cousin Robb had started attendance at the prestigious Westeros International School of Education earlier this year. When you’re twelve years old and by yourself, Winterfell is a long way from King’s Landing. Jon remembered how much he still missed his mothers every now and then - and Arya! He missed his little sister every day; missed watching the little troll eating her breakfast still half asleep. In a couple of years she’d join him and Oberyn on the road. Yet, through all these new places and faces he always had uncle Oberyn to rely on. Robb and all the other kids were on their own.

He felt the pull again; like there was a rope tied around his mind and someone pulled at it from afar. Not sure what would happen if he followed the pull, he thought it best to leave the eagle.

Looking down, he saw the characteristic silver hair of Princess Daenerys, sitting next to his body on the grass, giving Ghost a belly rub.

Drawing a deep breathe he blinked his eyes open, feeling the sturdiness of the ground beneath him and the softness of grass between his fingers. He carefully sat back up, slowly taking in his surroundings.

Daenerys grinned at him. “Welcome back, ‘sleepy head’.”

“Thank you for guarding me, Your Royal Highness. It’s very kind of You.”

“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes, “how many times must I tell you to call me ‘Dany’?”

“At least once more, Princess,” Jon replied softly.

She laughed, “you Starks and your unwavering honour.”

“Stark Dayne.”

“Right, you doubled up on honour,” she chuckled while shaking her head with amusement.

Sending him a bright smile, she asked, “where were you this time?”

Jon answered, pointing an index finger up at the sky without taking his eyes off her, “flying.”

The Princess’ eyebrows shot up in surprise as she bit her lower lip and inquired, “did you like it?”

“It’s alright,” Jon spoke quietly, averting his eyes, fiddling with the grass between them. “I see now why mum’s always warned me of the dangers of warging into birds. The freedom you feel up there is incredible.”

Raising his head slightly, Jon found Dany’s face mere inches away from his own; intelligent amethyst eyes brimmed with curiosity as they stared into his own azure coloured ones.

“Why is it dangerous?” The Princess breathed out her question as if uttering the words themselves was risky.

“Because the freedom flying provides is potentially intoxicating. It can pull anyone deeper and deeper without realising. Wargs can become so caught up in the feeling that they can forget who they are; never returning to their human body again.”

Dany lunged at him, slamming his body onto the ground as she straddled his abdomen, keeping him pinned down by pressing her dainty palms on his shoulders.

“Jon,” —she hissed through clenched teeth— “don’t you ever dare go anywhere I can’t follow!” Her eyes – suddenly darkened in colour – flashed with anger…and fear. “I’ll forbid it by royal decree if I must, Lord Dayne!”

“Never,” he whispered breathlessly. “I’d never leave you behind, Dany.”

She frowned at him. “You promise?”

“You have my word.”

She continued glaring at him, so, with a smirk playing on his face, Jon clarified teasingly, “doubled up on honour, remember?”

Next thing he knew Dany’s mouth was on his. So soft, so sweet, and so surprising he didn’t have time to understand what was happening before it was over. Gone too soon.

Completely dumbfounded, he just laid there on the grass, paralysed, blinking up at the Princess. She, in turn, was staring down at him wide eyed, nervously nipping at her lower lip, a worried crease between her eyebrows. He could feel her small hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as she balled up her fists. That spurred him into action.

He shook his head slightly and took a deep breath – as deep as he could with the Princess sitting across his stomach. He gently unclutched her fists as he flashed her a confident smile and said, “mind if we try that again?”

Dany jerked forward but two hands pressed against her shoulders stopped her. Once again her beautiful amethyst eyes flashed with anger, hurt and confusion.

Moving his hands from her shoulders to carefully cradle her face, Jon looked deep into her eyes as he whispered, “easy Dany, I just told you I’m not going anywhere.”

Responding with a shy smile and a barely noticeable nod, Dany lowered her eyes to look at his lips as she slowly leaned down.

He lifted his head slightly off the ground and met her half way, tenderly pressing his lips against hers. This time Dany’s delectable lips felt even softer, sweeter than they had with that first rushed kiss. He wanted to – needed to – do this right.

Slowly, he opened his mouth slightly and timidly let his tongue run along Dany’s upper lip. He figured he must’ve done something right, because she responded by grasping his shirt collar and pulling him closer.

When Dany finally pulled back, they both gasped, staring at each other in awe. Jon had never seen a sweeter, more beautiful smile than the one she was wearing just then. Her heavenly eyes shone brighter than any star ever could, he was sure of it.

Breathless, Jon said “that was—"

“—wonderful,” Dany finished for him.

Smiling softly he could only respond by nodding. Blinking rapidly a few times, he muttered, “I have this…weak feeling in my knees.”

“Is your heart beating strangely?”

“Mmhmm…faster, like I’ve been running.”

“Mine too,” she whispered brushing a tender hand through his dark curls. “Think we should just stay here for a bit.”

Dany positioned herself a little lower on his stomach as she leaned down to rest her dazed head on Jon’s narrow shoulder, placing a possessive hand over his rapidly beating heart.

Carefully, Jon wrapped his arms around her.

Uncle Oberyn always told him that love was like dancing – relax, go with the flow and you’ll find a rhythm that matches the two of you together. Jon wasn’t sure this could be compared to any kind of dancing he’d done, but if their matching heartbeats were any indication he’d say he and Dany had found their own unique rhythm. Gradually, he felt her breathing slow down as did his own.

“I like it here.” Dany’s quiet voice broke his musings.

He chuckled, “good, it’s your home after all.”

“No, I mean,” she raised her head slightly and padded his shoulder with her hand, “I like it here,” before resting her head back down.

“I like you here as well,” Jon confessed quietly resting a cheek against the top of her head.

Their peaceful little bubble was sadly burst when Ghost came running, joyously yapping at a hissing Bloodfyre who was flying just a few feet above the direwolf pup.

Dany shot up like a rocket. “Bloodfyre stop it! Behave!” The black and red dragon hissed and growled in response, yet still landed next to the silver-haired girl currently glaring at it.

Jon was amazed at how quickly the Princess transformed from the soft and tender girl he’d just had in his arms a few seconds ago, to this assertive dragon commander standing in front of him.

“Ghost, here!” The pup, a little more than a year old, obeyed his command without hesitation. “Maybe if he gets his tail zinged he’ll learn not to disturb a dragon,” Jon laughed, scratching the snow white direwolf behind its ear as he got back up on his feet.

Sitting next to her, Bloodfyre was exactly as tall as Dany. He was almost pitch-black with crimson red horns and spine, and spatters of red on his wings. At three, he was the youngest of the dragons currently residing on Dragonstone. The other dragons lived in and around Valyria where there was food and space available to them without the majestic creatures causing too much disturbance. However, despite being the younger – or perhaps because of it – Bloodfyre was the biggest drama queen; always making a big entrance hissing, screaming and growling, and spitting fire whenever he could get away with it. No hint of stealth – yet. He still curled up in Dany’s bed at night, but it’d be a matter of time before he’d have to stay on the floor, and in a few years he’d have to stay outside permanently.

She sent Jon an amused look before turning to Bloodfyre and speaking with more authority than he’d ever heard from her, “—and this guy needs to stop spitting fire at everyone and everything that he doesn’t like!”

Bloodfyre huffed and looked away – almost as if trying to give the impression that he wasn’t even paying attention. Jon knew from his mum’s stories from her years at Dragonstone, that dragons had very different personalities, just like humans, however, he never thought he’d find it this comical to see up close.

He bent down, picked up a stick and threw it as far as he could as Ghost was off in a jiffy to chase the stick - tail wagging and tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, but completely silent. Stealth.

Once again, Jon felt the humming, burning sensation in his mind. Stormcloud had been cruising the skies above them the whole time.

For a bit, he’d thought – and hoped – the buzzing in his head was from being close to Dany, but now he was almost certain it was exclusively due to the big dragon hovering above.

The few times Jon had been to Dragonstone before he’d of course seen Stormcloud around the island, admiring him from afar. He was a mighty and gorgeous beast; even looked like a storm cloud – blue coloured back, gradually turning a dark grey towards the dragon’s underside and wings. Jon had never been close to him though, and he’d never felt this observed and scrutinised either. He didn’t like the feeling.

It started after he had warged into Ghost this morning. Yesterday he’d spent the day making friends with the eagle, Storm – the great bird had told Jon he liked riding them so that’s what Jon had named him. In his sleep, he must’ve slipped into Ghost because in the early morning hours he’d been out by the dragons’ nests. He remembered the smell of burnt flesh and charred bones; definitely not a pleasant one. Moondancer hadn’t paid any attention to Ghost, but Stormcloud…he’d looked right at him. It had spooked both Jon and Ghost and the pup had quickly run back to the castle. When Jon woke the direwolf slept by his feet.

Having sent Bloodfyre off, Dany walked over to Jon again. Taking a step closer, she took one of his hands and sandwiched it between both of her smaller ones.

“Major Stark, Prince Oberyn, Mama and Papa talked to me yesterday, when you were out here by yourself.”

Jon watched her stare at their hands, patiently waiting for her to continue.

“They asked me if I’d like to come travel with you and uncle Obi before I start attending school in King’s Landing next year.” She threw him a nervous glance before quickly adding, “just for a bit.”

He placed his other hand on top of hers and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“But..,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t be joining alone,” she added apologetically.

Jon leaned in and laid a tender kiss on her forehead before pulling her in for a hug. “Will Vizharo and Sir Jaime be joining us then?”

He could feel her nodding.

“Major Stark mentioned something about sending her second in command to join us in Pentos.” Her voice was muffled by his arm.

Trying to contain his excitement, Jon took a steadying breath before asking, “We’re going back to Essos?”

“Oberyn mentioned something about Meereen.”

“Have you ever been before?”

Dany shook her head slowly.

“I’m sure you’ll love it! You’ll love Captain Tarth as well – she’s great.” He laughed, “—and then you won’t have to be all alone with us guys.”

She laughed out loud, “that would’ve been awful!”

Before Jon could respond, there was a thunderous noise just above them as the ground started quaking. Looking behind him, he saw Stormcloud towering over them, eyes fixed squarely on him.

The enormous dragon tipped its head slightly from side to side and Jon knew he was being sized up – he just didn’t know what for or the reason behind it.

The buzzing in his head returned. It was as if he’d stuck his head inside a beehive. The heat was back too, making him feel like his head was burning from the inside out.

Letting go of Dany, he fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. “Argh!”

“Jon!” Dany shouted, worried. “HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP!” She yelled desperately, looking around.

Instantly, Vizharo came running full speed from behind a small hill. “Princess! What’s the matter?!”

“Find Major Stark. NOW!! And uncle Aemon!”

Vizharo was off immediately, bolting across the field to where Viserys’ funeral pyre had been.

Jon had now collapsed on the ground, writhing and screaming in pain with Dany helpless by his side.

As Jon opened his eyes, he saw a huge eye, blue as his own, looking directly at him. He thought he saw pain in it but maybe that had to do with the pain he was feeling himself – head to toe, inside out, like chains and ropes burning, tightening and pulling everywhere on his body and mind.

Stormcloud’s massive head was inching closer, examining the little screaming human.

And, as he blacked out from the pain, the dragon soared to the skies screeching and roaring in anguish and frustration – for the second time that day.

[mathiaskillmaster]

Rebirth of the Dragon (After GOT / Daenerys Targaryen) Part 10

Westeros, King's Landing In the capital of the six kingdoms, an atmosphere and an increasingly palpable tension had been felt over the weeks in the red keep. Tyrion had learned, through the mouths of the other members of the small council, that King Bran had recently been completely isolated himself, no longer speaking to anyone, and remaining permanently confined to his quarters. The servants said they were constantly finding his meals in front of his door, without him touching it, and that he had even locked his door from the inside. Davos, Samwell and Brienne had each attempted to knock on his door to get an answer, but the only one they got was a Bran order to leave him alone. Not liking it at all, Tyrion volunteered to try to talk to the king and understand what was going on, but Bronn, as the new master of coins, offered himself in his place, which Tyrion accepted. Bronn had arrived at the door of the king's personal quarters, and once again saw near the door the meal still intact and cold on a silver tray. Bronn knocked softly at the door, waited a few moments, but as he expected, no answer came. Sighing, the master of coins looked briefly at the fact that no one was in sight, and using the tip of his dagger, began to try to unlock the lock. Although it was not used to break into a king's apartment, Bronn was not one to wait and wanted answers now, admitting that he too did not like that taking. After long minutes, he finally managed to open the lock and pushed the door very slowly, noticing that the room was plunged into semi-darkness. _"Majesty?" asked Bronn, without an answer. Although summer was here, he noticed an abnormal freshness in the room, seeing almost steam coming out of his mouth with each breath. As he stepped, a small creak was heard under his boot, and Bronn was surprised to see a very thin layer of frost that had formed on the marble slabs. But before he could wonder how and why, he finally saw Bran, sitting in his armchair, standing with his back to him and standing still, contemplating towards the large window of the room whose curtain had been pulled out completely, preventing the daylight to enter. _"Majesty?" Still no response, or the slightest reaction from Bran except a very slight movement of the head. _ "Your majesty, what are you doing? What are you playing here? Everyone on the small council is worried about you ..... With respect, with all due respect, I will not leave before you tell me clearly what does that mean." Annoyed by the continued freshness and darkness of the room, and Bran's unresponsiveness to his words, Bronn sighed heavily and heading for the window, wanted to open the curtain to let in the sun and the day again. But as he passed, Bronn felt Bran's strong, icy grip grasp his wrist, stopping him and even tearing a grimace of pain. Bronn barely had time to turn around as the cold blade of a dagger pierced his heart, freezing him in the spot. Feeling his blood flowing over his tunic, Bronn could not express a cry of pain, while before him, Bran continued to stare at him, impassive. Bronn's expression, however, shifted into a sense of surprise and fear at the sight of the young king's face, who watched his master of coins stifle before him on the ground, in a pool of blood. Alerted by the noise, Tyrion ran as fast as he could, and reached the door of the king's quarters, which he found wide open. "Bronn? Majest ... ..." began to say the dwarf, but the horror of what he saw interrupted him immediately. Bronn lay, lifeless, on the marble floor, his floor flowing over the slabs, while Bran, very slowly and still standing from behind, rose from his chair. Tyrion was speechless. The fear increased even more when the young king turned to him, the bloody dagger still in his hand. In the dim light of the room, Bran's eyes glowed in a terrifying, icy blue, while the skin of his face and hands had gradually become covered with frozen venules, and his skin had become as pale than a dead person. Essos, Dothraki Sea 2 months later .... The huts in flames .... the bodies of men lying dozens on the ground .... women and children captured and enslaved ..... crying, moans, tears and the smell of blood ..... that's all there was left of a small fishing village in the south of the Dothrak Sea. The feared dothrakis, on their powerful horses were euphoric of such a massacre, was now heading for their new destination towards the East, taking with them their numerous prisoners in the middle of the great grassy plains dancing with the wind and under the overwhelming heat of the midday sun. The former khalasar of Daenerys Targaryen was now led by a new khal, Onro, the latter having self-proclaimed new leader after the death of the dragon queen and have eliminated a rival who also wanted to take power. Other dothrakis challenged this choice and after multiple conflicts that led to many deaths, the khalasar had dispersed into several, each headed by a new leader. Onro now led a khalasar of just over 3,000 riders, having managed to subdue other smaller khalasars after killing their khals in duels. He had survived the battle of Winterfell against the army of the dead, had followed Daenerys during her reconquest of the throne. But secretly, Onro had always been an ambitious warrior who dreamed of taking power and becoming the khal of the khals to rule Essos as a whole. Thus, after returning to the Dothraki Sea with his warriors, Onro had embarked on the project of extending the territory of the dothrakis, while continuing to attack the cities and villages that appeared to him. Advancing proudly at the head of his khalasar, Onro noticed something in the distance that caught his attention, and signaled his bloodriders to stop. He pointed to what he was seeing. In the distance, walking among the hills strewn with tall grass, was moving a human figure, alone and carrying on its shoulders a stick of wood. The lonely traveler hummed merrily, though he noticed the dothraki horde coming towards him, but remained astonishingly calm and smiling. Intrigued by this man advancing alone in the middle of the plains, Onro unsheathed his Arakh, brandishing it with force and ordering his best warriors to follow him. Shen-zoan stopped, without showing the least hint of anxiety, and saw these Dothrakis warriors come to him. But as they approached their new target, Onro and his blood-riders suddenly stopped their advance, seeing coming from the hills behind the traveler, a large troop of men dressed in armor and black helmets, and armed with spears and shields. Grey Worm arrived, followed by the remaining 4000 remaining unsullied he had managed to return to the Queen after announcing the return of the latter to life. With them were Yara, wearing her ironborn queen's armor, and accompanied by her troops who had come with her to Essos, brandishing the proud banner of the Greyjoys. Lady Kinvara also stood at their side, escorted by her warriors from the Fiery Hand. Shen-zoan looked over his shoulder at his friends, then smiled at the dothrakis facing him, making them understand that it was in their interest not to seek the conflict. A very important detail struck the khal Onro. The banners floating in the wind held by some of the unsullied had a coat of arms that Onro knew very well: a red dragon with three heads, on a black background. The bloodriders also noticed this detail and cast a wary eye on each other. Onro clenched his teeth, a bad feeling invading him. A colossal and powerful roar was heard piercing the heavens and thrilling the hearts of all. Looking up at the sky, Onro and his khalasar remained petrified with stupor and fear at the sight of a giant shadow appearing in the sky and covering them with its dark tablecloth, masking the sun. The villagers enslaved by the dothrakis also stared at the same terrified faces. Drogon, like a divine apparition, emerged from the clouds, and slowly but surely, landed on the moor, about ten meters from Onro and his bloodriders and facing them. Onro and his warriors had to keep their horses frightened by the arrival of the huge flying reptile. The stupefaction of Onro and the dothrakis grew all the more at the sight of the young woman who was sitting on the back of the dragon, wearing an elegant ebony dress with dark red hues, her silver hair combed in a tall braid falling on her shoulder, and on her shoulders, two baby dragons, emitting small, shrill roars. Around her waist was now a brown leather belt, and a sheath in which was the sword she had acquired in the fire by the will of the master of light, according to Lady Kinvara. Onro could not believe it with his eyes. Daenerys Targaryen was there, alive and riding her mighty black dragon. At the sight of their khaleesi that all thought dead, the dothrakis remained speechless. Drogon stepped forward, grunting ferociously, while Daenerys, her face closed, turned her gaze to Onro. She knew Onro and had already seen him fighting for her. He was a rather special dothraki, knowing his attraction for strength and power, and his desire to one day dominate others. It seemed that his opportunist side had finally revealed itself, judging by the khalasar he was now leading. Daenerys also glanced at the convoy of villagers who were prisoners, tied up, and forcibly taken away by the dothrakis. This view of prisoners was not to the liking of the Queen of Dragons, who did not hesitate to show her discontent, addressed the Khal Onro in the Dothraki language. _ "Onro .... I admit to being half surprised to find you at the head of my khalasar .... you have always wanted the place of leader." The khal tensed with anger and with his arahk, almost threatening young Queen Targaryen. _ "You should not be here, silver woman ..... your power and your reign are dead ..... it's me now who's ordering! Submit to your new khal, or I'll kill your friends to the last and would force you to look, before raping until your bleeding to death!" Daenerys had listened and sketched a half smile of irony. Was Onro so blind to utter threats in front of a woman riding an adult dragon? He had never been the most clever of the dothrakis, and she still had the evidence today. _ "As you can see ..." Daenerys replied in dothraki "... my reign is not dead, since I stand here in front of you. I came back to claim my place as a legitimate khaleesi of this khalasar!" Onro spat on the ground unrestrained by Queen Targaryen's injunction, and threatened her again. _ "Never again would I obey a whore like you .... I'm the new great khal!" Daenerys remained calm, but gave Onro a gloomy look. _ "I only knew one great khal in my life ..." she proclaimed in front of all the warriors who listened "... and his name was Khal Drogo!" At the mention of her first and late love and husband, Daenerys could notice, in the eyes of some of the bloodriders, that she also knew, a brief moment of hesitation to want the confronted, but the threatening look of Onro in their regard, made them change their minds. They were dothrakis, and would follow the strength of their leader, as their custom. _ "They will never follow you again ..... queen of nothing at all!" Onro spat again, without hesitation. Yara was fuming, feeling the urge to silence him with her ax, just like Grey Worm with his spear. For Daenerys, this time, Onro exceeded the limits and she decided to stop it, once and for all. _ "Dracarys ...." she said very calmly without flinching. Drogon reacted immediately and poured a torrent of roaring flames on Onro and his horse, who did not even have time to react and were both engulfed in the infernal whirlwind. The bloodriders just behind retreated very quickly with their horses, panicked. Onro's howls sounded among the crackling fire, and his horse, on fire, fled the wall of fire, before collapsing dead a few meters away, completely charred and smoking. Onro also appeared screaming and wriggling in all directions, his face and skin disappearing under the flames that licked and blackened his flesh and bones, disintegrating his long hair and melting his arakh like wax. In this vision, Daenerys saw for a brief moment all those whom she had watched burning in the flames of her dragons .... she shuddered with disgust. She had sworn not to do it again to the innocents, but Onro was not one. He had uttered serious but stupid threats against her, her friends, threatening to rape her to the blood while forcing her to watch her allies die, and insulted Drogo's memory, and that Daenerys could not tolerate it. Onro finally collapsed to the ground, the fire continuing to gnaw his body calcined and inert. In front of this, the bloodriders as well as the rest of the khalasar did not attempt anything, while Daenerys, on the back of her dragon, advanced towards them to speak to them. _ "You were my khalasar and have always stayed in. You have followed me beyond the poisoned water to the lands of the iron men and their stone houses! You risked your lives for me against the armies of the dead, and many have never returned! But I assure you, that I, Daenerys stormborn, swear on my honor as well as in front of the mother of mountains herself, that never again will you suffer by my fault! Help me free the peoples of Essos from the tyranny of those who claim to be masters of this world and your lives as they would be the masters of a beaten dog! Come with me, and together, may we built a more just and free world!" Daenerys proclaimed loudly and forcefully, unsheathing her silver blade sword out of her scabbard and brandishing it, shining in the sunlight above her, while Drogon stood on his hind legs, wings spread and uttered a triumphal roar coming to tear the air. Around the queen and her dragon, Grey Worm and the unsullied, struck their spears against their shields in unison, while Yara and the ironborns lifted their arms and howled loudly for their dragon queen. Kinvara and Shen watched with some pride. The khalasar had before him an army, certainly small, but already borrowed from a great force. Their old khal now being reduced to a pile of coal on the ground, the bloodriders, already well acquainted with the young Targaryen woman, gave her new allegiance, brandishing their arakhs and cheering the dragon queen, which then did everything else khalasar. ********* The first thing Daenerys ordered her Dothrakis warriors finally found was to release the many villagers they had captured during the previous looting, and allow them to return home, or to remain as men and women free under the protection of the queen. Daenerys had personally walked to the prisoners and removed the chains from the first of them, showing the others what she was doing for them. Yara, Shen and the unsullied had helped remove the remaining chains. Seeing the faces of these women and children freed from their chains, the spark of hope reborn in their irises and their thanks for taking them under his protection, brought back to Daenerys' heart an ounce of strength, a force she thought never to find again, and the satisfaction of knowing that the woman she had been before was not dead. After reconquering her khalasar, Daenerys was brought to the camp of these, located a little further north in the middle of a large clearing surrounded by hills. Onro's tent, larger and larger than the others, immediately became the new tent of Daenerys that settled there, and immediately released the slave woman she found chained inside upon arrival, and that Onron kept for several weeks as a sex slave. The poor 14-year-old woman from a farming village was abused and beaten. This reinforced Daenerys' conviction that at no time did she regret having put an end to Onro's actions. Lady Kinvara had reassured the former prisoners, telling them who was Daenerys of house Targaryen, and what she would do to make this world a better place, free from slavery. Grey Worm, Yara Greyjoy and Shen-zoan had organized the troops and guards around the camp, particularly reinforcing the number of guards near the Queen's tent. No other assassination attempt was made against her since two months, but caution was warranted. Having gathered the unsullied, the dothrakis and the ironborns in her one and only army, Daenerys had retired a few moments in her new tent, taking care of her two new children. The two baby dragons were standing on a large carved wooden perch, looking around curiously and sometimes making small, shrill grunts. Sitting on the khal's bed, made of comfortable fur and animal skins, Daenerys watched tenderly as the two little dragons discovered their new surroundings. In already two months, they had grown up, being now a little bigger than small dogs. The blue-steel scaled, yellow-eyed baby dragon was a female, with a rather mild temperament, but could sometimes be fierce towards her younger brother. Daenerys had named her Mirrandes, in memory of her deceased and loyal servant and friend, Missandei. Mirrandes was also distinguished by her sleeker and slimmer pace than her brother, but also by longer, curved horns, almost like those of a goat. As for the second baby dragon, with scales in a mixture of beige and light brown, and orange-eyed, had shown a strong character, but above all a faithful fidelity to his mother and sister. This loyalty reminded Daenerys of one particular person who had remained in her heart. She named him Joreas, in memory of the Andal knight Jorah. Joreas had also a little bone horn on his nose. These two new dragons, born also of the stone changed by the fire, and which by the price of the life of two friends and allies close to the queen, could come to life. In a new sense, Daenerys thought that the sacrifices of Missandei and Jorah had not been in vain, although she would obviously wished to have never lose them. Magic, no matter which one, always demanded a terrible price, and that, Dany knew only too well for her greater suffering. These two new children in Daenerys' life, however, was a joy she never thought she would ever live again, and she would relive it again with the arrival of the child who continued to grow in her womb. Drogon had very well accepted his new brother and new sister, although a little jealous of Daenerys' attention to them. Drogon was like that, but still remained faithful and protective of those he considers his family, Daenerys had the proof more than once. Seeing that his two new children seemed to be hungry, Daenerys got up to go and get a small piece of raw horse meat in a small bowl, made available to feed the baby dragons at any time. Seeing the little piece of meat in their mother's hand, the two babies came down from their perch, coming eagerly to her and starting to argue for food by trying to give small bites to each other. _ "No, no, no fight, ok? You will have your turn each." Daenerys said like a mother to her children. Mirrandes and Joreas listened attentively and calmed down a little. Smiling, Daenerys placed the little piece of meat on the floor, and with a simple look, made Mirrandes understand what she was waiting from her. The female baby dragon came forward, sniffing the meat with appetite, but dared not eat it raw. Daenerys knew what she had to do, as she once did with Drogon when he was a baby. _ "Dracarys," Daenerys said softly. Mirrandes had heard, staring at her mother with curiosity, but also with a certain glimmer of understanding. Joreas listened too. _ "Dracarys ...." repeated the young woman, encouraging her "daughter" to do so. After a few moments of hesitation, Mirrandes took a little breath, and at the end of several efforts, managed to spit a thin blazing breath, which began to lightly cook the meat. Daenerys cheers softly, congratulating her. Mirrandes could grab the little piece of steaming meat between her jaws and swallow it greedily. It was Joreas' turn, Daenerys getting up to get another piece. But suddenly, Joreas raised her head, taking by a bad feeling, and turned his head towards the back of the tent, growling slightly. The young dragon roared and jumped in front of Daenerys, who gasped with surprise and fear, saw Joreas leap just in front of her, before collapsing heavily at her feet, a dart in his neck. Mirrandes roared at seeing her brother as well. Daenerys, shocked, looked up and then saw a human shadow, hooded, running away behind the tent and disappearing in the distance. She also noticed the little hole that had been pierced in the fabric of the tent, as well as the wooden blowgun, left on the floor. Daenerys understood, her heart beating. Joreas had sensed the danger and interposed in the trajectory of the dart, thus saving his mother from certain death. Daenerys quickly returned to Joreas, whose breathing had become very weak. Mirrandes rubbed her head against her brother, moaning with concern for him. _ "HELP ME! GUARDS!!" Daenerys shouted desperately, helplessly beside her dying son. Without further ado, Yara, Kinvara, Shen-Zoan, Grey Worm and some guards rustled in the tent to see the facts. _ "Shit! What happened?" Yara asked, coming to the dragon queen and making sure she had nothing. _ "The .... the faceless men .... but Joreas .... he interposed to save me and ...." Daenerys stammered in her explanations, and Yara had to calm her down a bit so that she can breathe and think. At the mention of the faceless men, Grey Worm and Shen-zoan did not lose a moment. _ "Search the camp! Search everywhere! Find the killer!" ordered Grey Worm to his unsullied, who obeyed on the spot. Shen-zoan went with them to help them. Alerted by the cries of distress from his mother and the feeling of danger, Drogon arrived in front of the tent, and bending his head, could see Joreas on the ground, and Daenerys and Mirrandes in distress. Drogon groaned in worry, but also in deep anger, searching around him who was responsible for it. Yara wanted to remove the dart from the young dragon's neck, but Kinvara held her back immediately. _ "Do not touch ....." warned the red priestess, who volunteered and removed the tip, examining it carefully and coming to feel its surface. A slight grimace of Kinvara confirmed the worst. _ "Poison ..... venom of manticore ....." Daenerys was destroyed on hearing this, the tears streaming down hiercheeks. She leaned over her dying young dragon, who moaned faintly and struggled to keep his eyes open. Dany's hand gently stroked his muzzle. _ "Joreas ....." she sighed.

[tatticstudio55]

SOME PARALLELS BETWEEN RHAENA AND DAENERYS TARGARYEN (feel free to expand)

-Drove into exile by usurpers (Robert Baratheon for Daenerys, Maegor I for Rhaena)

 “Where am I to go?”

But where am I to go? Ser Jorah proposed that they journey farther east, away from her enemies in the Seven Kingdoms. Her bloodriders would sooner have returned to their great grass sea, even if it meant braving the red waste again. Dany herself had toyed with the idea of settling in Vaes Tolorro until her dragons grew great and strong. But her heart was full of doubts. Each of these felt wrong, somehow . . . and even when she decided where to go, the question of how she would get there remained troublesome. – Daenerys, ACOK

 “They murmur of the cost of keeping me and mine, but it is Dreamfyre who excites them. Some fear her, more want her, and it is those who trouble me the most. They lust for dragons of their own. That I will not give them, but where am I to go?” – Rhaena to Jaehaerys, F&B, p. 194.

Can see right through it

"Why does he give us so much?" she asked. "What does he want from us?" For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister's house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos. – Daenerys, AGOT

 The Lord of Casterly Rock wanted more than just a highborn guest, Queen Rhaena realized then. Beneath the warmth of his veneer, he was too cunning and too ambitious to settle for so little. He wanted an alliance with the Iron Throne, possibly through marriage between her and his bastard, or one of his trueborn sons; some union that would raise the Lannisters up past the Hightowers, the Baratheons, and the Velaryons to be the second house in the realm. And he wanted dragons. – Rhaena, F&B, p. 167.

 Death of a father figure and protector, and expulsion from the house

She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her "Little Princess" and sometimes "My Lady," and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever. – Daenerys, AGOT

 None of this was of great concern to the queen and her familiar so long as Marq Farman ruled in Faircastle, for his lordship was an amiable and good-natured man who loved all his children, his wayward daughter and weakling son included, and loved Rhaena Targaryen for loving them as well. Less than a fortnight after the queen and Androw Farman had celebrated the first anniversary of their union, however, Lord Marq died suddenly at his own table, choking to death upon a fish bone at the age of six-and-forty. And with his passing, Ser Franklyn became the Lord of Fair Isle.

He wasted little time. On the day after his father’s funeral, he summoned Rhaena to his great hall (he would not deign go to her), and commanded her to remove herself from his island. – F&B, p. 164.

 “Go”

Give you a dragon, you mean. "I will not wed you, Xaro."

His face had grown cold at that. "Then go."

"But where?"

"Somewhere far from here." – Daenerys, ACOK

 “You are not wanted here,” he told her. “You are not welcome here. Take your dragon with you, and your friend, and my little brother, who would surely piss his breeches if he were made to stay. But do not presume to take my sister.” – Ser Franklyn to Rhaena, F&B, p. 164-165.

 Dany had not seen him since. His seneschal brought her messages, each cooler than the last. She must quit his house. He was done feeding her and her people. He demanded the return of his gifts, which she had accepted in bad faith. – Daenerys, ACOK

 -Both queens must deal with opportunists who’d like to pocket a dragon or two for themselves.

 Loves to fly

Memories walked with her. Clouds seen from above. Horses small as ants thundering through the grass. A silver moon, almost close enough to touch. Rivers running bright and blue below, glimmering in the sun. Will I ever see such sights again? On Drogon's back she felt whole. Up in the sky the woes of this world could not touch her. How could she abandon that? – Daenerys, ADWD

 After her sixteenth nameday, the princess declared herself a woman grown, “free to fly where I will.”

And fly she did. Dreamfyre was seen as far away as Harrenhal, Tarth, Runestone, Gulltown. – F&B, 70.

 -For both women, dragons are strongly (even perhaps primarily) associated with freedom and escape.

 Untroubled by ghosts

Other searchers returned with tales of other fruit trees, hidden behind closed doors in secret gardens. Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes, and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold. Yet they found bones too, the skulls of the unburied dead, bleached and broken. "Ghosts," Irri muttered. "Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place."

"I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts."

[…]

No ghosts troubled her sleep that night. She dreamed of Drogo and the first ride they had taken together on the night they were wed. In the dream it was not horses they rode, but dragons. – Daenerys, ACOK

 When Alysanne reminded her that Harrenhal too was said to have ghosts, Rhaena shrugged. “They are not my ghosts. They will not trouble me.” – F&B, 254.

 -Both women have strong mother instincts and will protect their children above all

-Both have a melancholic side and a fiery temper

-Both do very well on their own without a husband, thank you very much

 One to bed, one to dread, one to love: Rhaena married thrice, one to bed (Aegon), one to dread (her uncle Maegor) and one to love (Androw Farman, so she could love his sister Elissa).

-Daenerys’s parents, Rhaella and Aerys, might’ve been named after Rhaena’s twin daughters Rhaella and Aerea.

-Both feel a great deal of responsibility towards those who followed them in their wanderings (Dany’s khalasar in ACOK, Rhaena’s forty something people who left Fair Isle with her)

 Cherished girls who died in their arms:

Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on. – Daenerys, ACOK

 Lianna Velaryon died even as her uncle’s galleys were pushing off from Driftmark. Maester Anselm had purged her, bled her, and covered her with ice, all to no avail. She died in Rhaena Targaryen’s arms, convulsing as the queen wept bitter tears. – F&B, 223

 (For that matter, both had to deal with an epidemy of pestilence – or presumed pestilence, in Rhaena’s case – and install a quarantine.)

-And we might as well mention the similarities shared between Daenerys and two significant women in Rhaena’s life, Elissa and Aerea. Elissa loved ships and sailing. Aerea’s flight on Balerion oddly echoes Dany’s escape from Meereen on Drogon (and their whereabouts after that, for both Drogon and Balerion proved recalcitrant at obeying their rider’s commands – once again, presumably, in Aerea’s case – when it became well past time to fly back home).