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myocsfanfictions · 25 days

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THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair were dark, but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen and her wrath was not different from the one that burn inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 3

Ysilla had loved her time in King's Landing. Her uncle was a sweet man, and he liked Ysilla's company. It had been strange for the little princess because no man had ever treated her like family. She had only her lady mother in Runestone. But King Viserys had been very kind to her, allowing one of the Maesters of the Dragonpit to follow her back to the Vale so that he could attend to her dragon.

"Your grace," she had asked timidly one morning as they were breaking their fast. Queen Alicent was with them as well.

"Tell me, dear niece," Viserys answered with a smile.

"I would like to learn High Valyrian," she noticed how the King shared a look at his Queen. A hint of sorrow was in his eyes, and Ysilla wondered if she had asked too much.

"That would be a lovely idea," the King said, smiling gently at her. Ysilla blushed, happy that her uncle appreciated her wish. "From your mother's words, I know you like to learn."

"It is true, your grace," Ysilla answered, nodding her head. The Queen chuckled softly.

"Let's hope our Aegon will have the same endeavor for knowledge," Vyseris said.

Ysilla had met the little Prince Aegon, who was almost two years old. The girl did not know what to think of him; he could not even talk properly yet.

"Is my father happy to hear it as well?" Ysilla asked curiously. But then again, she noticed how the King shared a look with his wife.

"I... I'm sure he is, dear." Those words should have made her happy, but they didn't because she was not sure how true they were. Was her father not happy with her? Was she disappointing him?

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked, confused.

"Of course not," her uncle was quick to say, "Your father is at war; it's been long since I last saw him."

Ysilla looked down. She was truly so silly. She was only two when the war on the Stepstones started. But she wanted to meet her father and talk to him.

She had been trying to talk about him sometimes, but no one would talk about Daemon Targaryen. She was not sure why, but it seemed to her that the Hand of the King didn't like her father, while the king seemed pained to talk about his brother. But no one explained anything to her; she was too young, they said.

She had hoped to get to know her father better in King's Landing, but he was far even in a place that he had loved. Or so her mother would say.

Ysilla missed Runestone, but she could understand why her father loved King's Landing so much. Her favorite place was the Dragonpit; she even loved the smell of dragons. And it seemed that her own dragon liked to be there, too. At first, she was afraid he would not have recognized her, but he did, happily and clumsily crawling in her direction.

"Is Vhagar in the Dragonpit as well?" She had asked curiously at Rhaenyra one morning under the Heart Tree.

"She is too big," Rhaenyra answered. "Why? Do you want to see her?"

Ysilla smiled, "Visenya was Vhaghar's rider," she explained, "I like stories about Visenya."

"I like them too," her cousin answered, sitting closer to Ysilla, "I would have liked to have a sister like you."

Ysilla felt like blushing, but then she got curious, "You've got Aegon, though," but Rhaenyra's eyes lowered silently.

Did she not love Aegon?

Ysilla wondered why. But she dared not to ask, not wanting her cousin to get sad.

"I hope my dragon will be as big as Vhaghar," Ysilla confessed, "And that I'll become as strong as Visenya." And that her father would be proud of her.

"I'm sure you will," Rhaenyra promised.

Ysilla was enjoying her time in King's Landing. She enjoyed spending time with Rhaenyra and the Queen, but never together. The two of them didn't seem eager to stay in each other's presence, Especially Rhaenyra.

"You truly look beautiful," said Alicent the morning of Aegon's second name. The Queen was wearing a beautiful red gown, and her auburn hair was held together by a net of jewels. Ysilla blushed at the compliment. No one ever complimented her appearance. Her mother didn't want her to focus only on her physics. She was a woman of the Vale, stronger than most. But Ysilla wished to be pretty. She sometimes wished that her hair was silver like the rest of her family and not strange like hers. Dark and streaked with silver. It always looked messy; it didn't matter how many times she'd brushed it.

"I wish I was as pretty as you," she said, biting her lips.

"You are just five of age," the Queen told her gently. "You've got time to think about those things." Then she put her hands on her shoulders and said, "Shall we go?"

That would have been her last week at the Capital, and she was very sad about it. She enjoyed that visit as much as her dragon. He was little, but he was not afraid of other dragons, and he was growing healthier by the day.

The feast for Aegon's name-day was like nothing Ysilla had ever seen. So many people were dressed in rich, embroidered clothes and the finest jewels. All the ladies fussed about Aegon, and they were all happy and made a lot of compliments. They seemed to love him very much, the first son of the King.

"May I introduce you to my niece Ysilla Targaryen, Lady Redwine?" The King said, lightly pushing Ysilla towards an old lady. The woman looked at her. Her eyes lingered on her hair, but then she smiled. It was a tight smile; it didn't fully reach her eyes. "The daughter of Prince Daemon," Ysilla nodded her head proudly at the woman's words. "It is a pleasure to meet you, princess."

Ysilla bowed clumsily, "The pleasure is mine."

"What about Lady Rhea?" Lady Redwine asked the King. "Is she not present?" Ysilla didn't like her tone. She seemed to be judging and mocking. But she had no right to speak in such a way about her noble mother.

"Lady Rhea is a very busy lady," her uncle answered, "But Ysilla is here in her place."

The woman nodded, "To not let people forget." Ysilla frowned, looking up at her uncle, who was glaring at her for some reason.

What should people remember? Ysilla asked herself. She did not understand that woman.

"How about Prince Daemon, your grace?" Lady Redwine asked Viserys, "What words are from the Stepstones?"

Viserys smiled with tension. Ysilla could tell he did not like the question. "A war of little concern for the realm." Ysilla frowned again.

Her father was fighting. His brother. Why was that a little concern?

"Ysilla," Alicent called her, gesturing to get closer to her. The little princess looked at her uncle once more before doing as she was asked. "What about you sit here with Aegon?" she asked, gesturing to the wet nurse to put Aegon on a soft carpet. You could play together."

Ysilla was not sure what she should have done, but she nodded nonetheless. Then, she sat quietly next to the little prince, but her eyes remained on her uncle.

I wish I was older, she thought. I could understand better.

Ysilla started to play with Aegon a little, but her eyes kept looking at the people around. And she noticed it. They would whisper as their eyes lay on her.

Is it for my hair? She asked herself. But even if she hated her hair, she was not quite sure that was the reason behind their gaze and whispers.

Then suddenly, she felt something pulling at her dark lock, not enough to hurt her. When her eyes moved, she noticed Aegon looking at her hair curiously before his lips turned up into a smile. He seemed to like it.

It is not for my hair. She thought, looking back at a man with golden hair and a roaring lion embroidered on his chest, whispering to his twin brother.

Did they know something she didn't? Did something happen to her father at the Stepstones, and no one would tell her?

She wanted to know.

Ysilla managed to get away from Aegon's grip before telling the wet nurse that her tummy was empty and that she would have to go to eat something and then come back. Ysilla walked to the table, observing the food as if she were truly hungry, hoping to catch someone talking about the Stepstones and her father. But she didn't catch anything. Women were talking rumors, and men were looking forward to the hunt that would have closed the Prince's celebration.

Nothing of her interest, then she heard it.

"The King does not want to help," she heard the Hand say to a man with the sigil of House Hightower on his chest. "Daemon and Corlys Velaryon acted without His Grace's word," Ysilla was as quiet as a shadow as she walked closer to hear them better.

"He has always been a disgrace," the other man said, "And the folly about Dragonstone."

Otto Hightower nodded. "His Grace wanted him to go back to Runestone, but he never wanted to."

"We all know how he disrespects Lady Rhea and his daughter." Ysilla felt her hands shaking. What did it mean? She did not understand.

Otto took a breath, "The goat and the goat's daughter. He truly is vile."

Ysilla felt her eyes fill with tears, but she was quick to walk away. Wanting to forget about that conversation. But she couldn't. Her father couldn't have talked about her and her mother in such a way. Why?

That could not be possible. They must have been lying. The Hand didn't like her father; she knew that. But could that really be a rumor? What was his end?

Those words had been repeating themselves in her ear for all the rest of her visit to King's Landing. And they never went away. They've kept coming louder and more painful.

_____________________________________________________________

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the-loststone · 3 months

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HotD Team Green Defense

The amount of people who fail to grasp Team Green's perspective is honestly staggering to me. So many people are Team Black, maybe out of some (misplaced) belief that they are being feminists and advocating for female power, or something like that, and choose to ignore the very legitimate worries and motivations of Team Green. Admittedly, the show has gone out of it's way to villainize Team Green as much as possible, while victimizing Team Black, and deviating from the source material for this narrative. (I would tell them to be suspicious when showrunners do that because they did the same thing to Daenerys in GoT and everyone was surprised when she turned around and burned a city down in a rushed ending because the show never properly developed her arc.) Nevertheless, despite their efforts to make Team Green the less appealing side, if I had to compare motivations, Team Black is the more villainous.

So many people dismiss the fact that for Rhaenyra to secure her throne, she would have to kill her siblings. They write it off as paranoia of Alicent, or ambitions of her and Otto, that they are making excuses for Aegon to be made king instead of Rhaenyra. But that's just not true. These are very real likelihoods. Even if Aegon did not seek the throne, or he and his brothers decided to gracefully allow the succession to pass to Rhaenyra, it would never be peaceful. Just look at Rhaenys and how Corlys is still bitter and Viserys has been worried that they may come after him since she has a right to the throne. That's one of the main benefits in having Rhaenyra marry Ser Laenor was to join their claims. Or look at how worried everyone was of Daemon, and how he may seize power after Viserys. The only thing keeping him alive was his brother's love for him, the fact that their house was dwindling, and no one was fighting on his behalf over Viserys. So if there is every another claimant, it would be a great worry that the side in power may be kicked off by another claimant. And Aegon and his brothers are men, and just by virtue of having dicks, they have a better claim to the throne. All laws, precedent, and cultures in Westeros have male heirs before female heirs. The king's word does not change that. And note that the King only made Rhaenyra his heir over his brother. So technically, the King said "all my children first, including my daughter, then my brother." (Something already controversial because if it was accepted before, Rhaenys would be Queen and he would be nothing). But he never again made a statement for the lords after his sons births. He never reinforced Rhaenyra's succession as his heir outside the privacy of their own quarters. Alicent even said, let the lords come and decide, and make vows, and he and Rhaenyra reject it because they worried the Lords would choose Aegon.

Rhaenyra knows, to inherit without rebellions every few years from lords who are unhappy with her and want to supplant her with her brothers, she would have to kill her brothers and make sure there are no people who can contest her right to inherit.

And this is just Rhaenyra's succession. Now add in the fact that she's claiming illegitimate children as her heirs. Very obvious illegitimate children. Even if Rhaenyra managed to successfully inherit with no push back from anyone, and no one wanted to supplant her with her brothers so she didn't have to kill them then... well guess what, she'll have to kill them to secure her son's ascension to the throne. (And if she won't then Daemon certainly would). And then, even if she does kill all the Greens, then there's the issue of her legitimate children vs. her illegitimate children. Even if the kids grew up to love each other, someone may say, well the first three shouldn't inherit, let's put the legitimate ones on the throne. And then you have a completely different succession crisis.

Viserys' actions may seem to the viewers as promoting girl power and feminism, but that's not what's happening. He's being an abusive, neglectful shit. He's deliberately putting the rest of his children's lives in jeopardy, and even the Strong grandchildren he claims to love, because by keeping them in the succession despite their obvious illegitimacy invites people to contest that. And that's not to say he couldn't have taken steps to remedy this. He could have changed the rules so that succession passes to the eldest child, regardless of gender. But he didn't. He could have acknowledged that his grandchildren were illegitimate and forgiven it and legitimized them as Targaryens, but he didn't (conveniently usurping Valeryons - and people may argue that Baela/ Rhaena can still rule being married to Jace/Luke, but that's not the same as being able to rule in your own right, otherwise, why not take the offer for Rhaenyra to marry Aegon).

But since he didn't do any of these things, the only way to stop the Dance would have been for him to make Aegon his successor. Something that everyone would have been relieved by because it would have prevented war. But he didn't. And so, Alicent has to fight to keep her kids alive. The Greens have to push their claim to survive. Whereas, had Rhaenyra graciously backed off her claim, saying that yes, she had 3 brothers, and while they were younger, the laws and precedent are in their corner to inherit, then she would have lived. People wouldn't have fought for her claim if she hadn't pushed it. Nor would they fight for an illegitimate heir.

But some may say... Well Rhaenyra has more supporters. She does. She has the Velaryons and countless other houses backing her. So do the Greens. (the Greens have the wealthiest houses). But once it becomes a fight to throne, it's less about who has the right, and more about who can offer you the most. Notice the Starks and the Baratheons agree to fight because they'll get a wedding out of it (and the Starks because they'll have somewhere to send people during their current famine). The Vale because of the blood ties. The Lannisters because of past insults. Once it's decided to be a fight, it's never about who actually has a right to the throne, it becomes about who can give you the most so you can help them win it.

And this is what it really comes down to. Rhaenyra had a choice. She can back off, and her family can survive. Her brothers can live. Her sons will live. Or she can inherit, and her brothers can die. And she is perfectly willing for her brothers to die. And some may say that that's a very jaded view to take on Rhaenyra and she would never kill her family if she could help it... but it would be out of her hands. It would be necessary to protect her son's right to inherit and to keep away possible rebellions.

And you know, fine, that's okay. She wants to fight for the throne, more power to her. She can go after the throne and kill her brothers. But I don't think it's right that people say that she's the aggrieved party. She's not. She's the aggressor.

And that is why I'm team Green. Because Alicent is right. Just by living and breathing, Aegon and his brothers are threats to Rhaenyra. And this would have happened no matter who Viserys married. Sure people can be upset that Alicent married her bffs dad (something that only happens in the show because in the books, Alicent is 10 years older than Rhaenyra and they weren't close), but that doesn't mean her children should die because Rhaenyra is the preferred child. That doesn't mean the realm should be thrown into war because Alicent 'seduced' a widow. (And I say that with heavy sarcasm because Viserys is a grown ass man.)

And then there's the argument of who's the better house because of blood purity. It's a ridiculous argument and I'm honestly annoyed by people who are Targaryen purists and believe in the whole, dragon supremacy. Hightower is badass house. A lot of people don't realize that they've been around since The Wall and Winterfell were built (Bran the Builder built Hightower, commissioned by the Lord / King of Hightower). They've been around since before Targaryen's rode dragons. So spare me the ridiculous arguments of who's got the most Targaryen blood. If anything, Team Green is more Westerosi, you know, the country they are trying to rule.

In the end, the show will do what it does best, and disappoint you. Either they'll continue pushing this narrative of girl-boss queen and fail to show the complexity of the political situation that result from Rhaenyra's decisions. Or they might stick to the book and have a complex issue actually displayed and show both Aegon and Rhaenyra's descent into madness.

There are more issues one could delve into. Like the fact that Rhaenyra married Daemon. That either Corlys Velaryon has so much unhinged ambition that he's ignored deaths in his house to side with those who have literally murdered his family (cough cough Vaemond and Laenor) (and the whole Laenor excuse in the show makes no sense because no way in hell are Rhaenyra and Daemon risking that he's ever found and that their kids are declared bastards; it is much cleaner for them to do it like they did in the books and kill him) or there will be serious repercussions from the deaths of Velaryons and continued discussion of the succession of Driftmark/High Tide.

But that's the main summary of my thoughts. 👍

If you made it to the end of my rant. Thank you.

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 year

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His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part One

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: This is based on the depiction of Aegon in HBO's House of The Dragon and not the books, though I do change some details about his character here and there. I fully recognize that he is a horrible person in the show, especially, but it still makes me want to fuck him just as badly. Please give me hate for this, so I know what to add to the story to piss you Aegon haters off. Toodles!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of childbirth and complications, death, reference to sexual assault, Aegon speaking inappropriately to a minor.

Screams echoed throughout the dark streets of Flea Bottom, the sound emanating from one of the many brothels that occupied the townspeople and even certain royals. The usual moans the whores had listened to were gone, replaced with their encouraging words and the shallow pants of a woman in labor. The establishment was closed for the night, which was unusual. They were always open, even on holidays that were supposed to be observed in silence, but this, they believed, was far more important.

One of the fellow women was giving birth to the firstborn daughter of Daemon Targaryen, a bastard.

"Push Elaina! Push!" the Madam commanded, holding her sweating hand.

The whispers of the other girls were the only thing Elaina Black could hear, even over the pound of blood through her ears. She had taken all the proper precautions to avoid this, but it seemed the Gods had other plans for her. Elaina had been the private whore of Daemon Targaryen, reserved only for his cock. Typically, the Madam would refuse such a demand, but he was a prince, and only the best were given to the Highborn.

"I can't," she whimpered, tears streaming down her temples. Unable to hold herself up, she lay on her bed, legs held open by her fellow girls. It had been hours, and the babe had not breached the canal. She was exhausted, sweat coated all her limbs, and she had given up on the birthing chair.

"You must!" A young girl to her side whispered, dabbing her forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

"The babe is stuck," the Madam said, her gruff voice turning into a soft, worried sound. Her callused hand rubbed her stomach.

"I-I need something, anything, for the pain," Elaina cried, her whole body feeling like she was lying in a bed of flames.

"I am sorry, sister, but it might harm the child," a girl holding her leg spoke. Elaina grunted, baring down and pushing with all her might with a scream. She felt as if her eyes were going to pop out of her head with force.

"Yes!" The Madam shouted. "Yes! Yes! Keep going, Elaina! It is moving!"

"Oh Gods," she groaned, attempting to roll on her side, but was held down.

The Madam had a bright smile as she stuck her hands inside Elaina's canal, feeling the soft hair of the newborn as it slid forward. She could feel the child's head moving against her pelvis, creating an indescribable pain. A few more contractions and the babe would be free.

Elaina tossed and turned, gripping the stained sheets and nearly ripping them in half as a soft tuft of brown hair appeared. She screamed, her back lifting as she bared down, knowing that would be the last push.

A searing pain surged through her body from her core, traveling up her spine. She felt like she was being ripped open, all her insides tearing apart and coming out with the babe.

"Good. Good," the Madam soothed, the cry of a newborn echoing in the room. "You may rest now, Elaina."

And Elaina tried, she did, but the contractions did not stop. She kept pushing and pushing. The sighs of relief all the whores let out were all that could be heard. They left Elaina to tend to the babe, ignoring her raspy breaths. Though they were still in the room, she felt so alone and helpless, lying there with her legs spread open. She assumed her body kept pushing for the afterbirth, which was something to be expected, but she didn't think it would happen so soon. She felt her body pop like a plug pulled from a drain, which she assumed was the placenta exiting her body. She finally relaxed, her body exhaling all her pain and tension.

"May I see them?" Elaina asked softly, barely containing any energy.

The women finally turned to Elaina, and the newborn swaddled in one of their arms. Their faces all paled, the Madam passing the child to another girl as she ran to her parted legs.

"Wh-what is the matter?" Elaina looked down, seeing a pool of blood between her thighs. She sat up, finally gaining the strength to move before someone could push her down as she saw her organs.

She nearly fainted in shock but willed her eyes to stay open. She could not be done until she held her child.

"My baby," she whispered, but nobody listened, everyone panicking as they tried to get Elaina's internal organs back inside. "My child," she shouted, finally finding her voice. "Give me my child."

The young girl holding the still crying babe looked to the Madam, asking permission. She nodded, hands wrist deep into Elaina's heat.

Finally, she got to hold her child, numb to the poking and prodding of people's hands inside her. She wrapped her arms around the small bundle, the child as if knowing they were in their mother's arms instantly calmed. Elaina shifted the blankets to see the babes sex, smiling to herself.

"A girl," her trembling voice whispered, covering her daughter back up and whispering her name. "My beautiful girl."

She rubbed the soft lanugo hair on her head, noticing a small block of skin lighter than the rest of her scalp, white hair growing from it. The newborn closed her eyes at her mom's soft stroking, a yawn escaping her tiny mouth, smacking her gums. She knew that her daughter would have a piece of her father with her, even if she never knew him. Elaina had never felt such love for another being in her life. How could such a small thing make her feel this way?

She was oblivious to the panicky talking of the Madam and other girls, a few entering and exiting the room with different supplies. All that mattered in the world right now was her daughter in her arms, her eyes slowly opening as she stopped stroking her head. Rings of violet wrapped around her pupils, almost sparkling in the candlelight.

Suddenly, the babe was removed from her arms, and Elaina shouted, attempting to jump out of the sweat and blood-soaked sheets, but was shoved down by four women. Her daughter's cries mirrored her mother's, wanting to be in her warm embrace again.

"Where," Elaina's breath caught in her throat, realizing how exhausted she was, "where are you taking her?"

"Elaina, calm yourself." She ignored the girl's words demanding her to hold still.

"Give me my baby! Give me back, my child," she screamed, but no one listened, holding her down with all their strength.

"I need to stitch you up, Elaina! The babe tore you down to your arse!" The Madam shouted, getting frustrated with her violent squirming.

"I do not care! Give me back my child!"

"Restrain her."

"We are trying, Madam," the four girls responded as Elaina managed to free a leg and kick one of them in the face.

"Get her Milk of the Poppy, now."

It was only mere moments before a whore came in with a small glass bottle, asking another girl to help her open her mouth as she poured the liquid. Slowly, Elaina began to calm, her thrashing coming to a halt as her mind left the realm. Her child still wailed its deafening cries, never ceasing even as her mother settled.

"There, there little one," the girl who had taken her cooed. "It's alright. Your mama will make it out alright. I am sure of it." The babe continued to cry, almost as if she could sense her lies.

"Lyra, shut her up or leave the room," the Madam said, her voice returning to her routine. Lyra chose the latter, closing the door quietly behind her as she rocked the newborn in her arms.

The infection took Elaina Black in three days' time. Even though they managed to stitch her together, her insides still kept coming out. It was as if her body refused to heal without her daughter's presence. The Madam refused to let the child see her dying mother for fear that she would somehow make her sick, but she could not handle seeing her in that state. She felt like a failure. Letting one of her whores get pregnant in the first place was shameful enough, but her dying from said pregnancy under her care was terrible. She was supposed to take care of her girls, and she failed.

It was early in the morning, a week after Elaina's death, and all the brothel women were confused about why the Madam decided to call a meeting instead of letting them sleep. They all gathered around in the small room they designated for meals, waiting for Madam to address them finally. She was babbling to the bundle in her arms, letting her play with the finger she was swirling over in her face.

"I called you all here today because word has gotten to me. Rumors that some of you have broken our unspoken agreement to keep the child safe," she spoke, her eyes never leaving the babe.

"Madam," Lyra spoke up before anyone else could dig them a deeper grave. "We would never put the child at risk. Whatever whispers you have heard are false."

Madam hummed in response, finally looking at the frightened girls. "You all know her parentage and why she should be kept out of your mouths, and yet," she paused, looking at every one of their faces, "someone has spoken, and word has made it to the Red Keep." They gasped, knowing what this could mean for them and their business.

"The child is my concern, and I want no word of her to anyone. Do you understand?" The sternness in her voice was enough to make even the strongest of men falter. "Or I will have you all kicked to the streets."

They all nodded without protest, knowing that she would follow those threats. Madam took a breath, turning around to dismiss them as she kissed the babes forehead wordlessly, her purple-lined iris' glinting up at her. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide her from the royal family forever, but she would try. She'd be damned if she failed you too.

Several Years Later...

You giggled as you ran along the Streets of Silk, a mischievous grin plastered on your face as you dropped a few apples from your tiny arms. A few City Watchmen chased after you, and their shouts for you to halt fell deaf on your ears. You weaved your way through the crowds of people like a snake in the grass while the guardsmen ran through them like bulls, bumping into almost everyone they saw.

It was easy for you to get away, slinking down an alley and hiding behind a corner in your dark cloak. You turned, making sure the men ran past before you stepped out of the shadows, putting the rest of the apples into your brown satchel but leaving one out to eat. You took a bite, smiling triumphantly that you had gotten away with your crime as you skipped back to your home in Flea Bottom.

You had just reached the back entrance of the brothel you called home, always listening to what Madam said as it burst open, revealing an incredibly drunk patron as you fell to the dirty sandstone, the cloak of your hood dropping.

"Ouch," you cried, rubbing the back of your head from where it hit the ground. All the apples roll from your bag.

You looked up at the man, only to realize it wasn't. It was a young boy, barely looking at the age of ten and three, with a leather patch over his left eye and tears in the other. He, too, had a cloak of his own, now pushed back and revealing hair as white as snow. It took you a moment to comprehend what that meant, a young boy with hair like that, but then you realized, quickly scrambling up into a clumsy bow.

"Your grace, I-I did not mean to-"

A hard shove knocked you back to the ground, but this time you caught yourself staring at him with an angry look. You knew you couldn't do anything to him, he was royalty, but that did not stop you from trying.

"Get away from me whore. I have had enough of you." The prince rubbed his tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve as you attempted to get up again, but he pushed you back down, stepping on your hand as he ran away.

It was your turn to cry now, the pain and anger mixing as you whimpered, clutching your hand to your chest. What had you done to offend him so dearly? It was his fault he ran into you. Maybe he could have seen you if he wasn't such a baby. You did nothing wrong. You had half a mind to chase after him for hurting you the way he did as you got up, debating if you could catch up to him in time. You probably could. He was a selfish, pampered palace ass, not a street rat like you.

"A bit young to be whoring yourself out, aren't you? But I suppose it never hurts to start young." A tall but stocky man stood in the door frame, eyes roaming your body. He had the same white hair as the boy from before, only shorter and curly and reeking of sweat. You stepped back, trying your best not to scrunch your nose up in disgust at his smell.

"I am not a whore," you spat, putting your hands on your hips. He crossed his legs, still leaning in the doorway as he observed you, an almost calculating look on his face.

"Ah, my apologies then, dear maiden. I only meant whore in training," he said with a smirk. You scoffed, fixing your pouch as you knelt to pick up the red apples on the ground.

"Hardly. I do not whore myself, nor will I ever."

"A pity," he said, crouching down to be level with you, "for I would love to see your body once fully grown."

You grabbed the last apple, ignoring his comment and putting it in your bag as he placed his hand over yours, staring into your eyes. You grew uncomfortable at his unwavering gaze, heat rising to your cheeks as he ran his fingers through your white strand of hair, comparing it to your eyes. If you weren't any brighter, it would seem like he was about to kiss you. He hummed to himself as if he was inspecting a relic he did not understand.

Your name being called sharply moved your gaze from his, standing up as you shoved the apple back into your satchel. The prince stood up, his knees cracking as a part of his tunic moved, showing an indentation of teeth in his skin, and suddenly you remembered why he was here in the first place.

"I am coming, Ma." You brushed around the stranger, his fingers ghosting your arm, sending gooseflesh throughout your body. "I brought us some apples," you offered in peace as she clutched you to her bosom, hiding your face from his.

"Thank you for your patronage, my prince. I hope on your way home, you and your brother offer the upmost discretion of your time here." She stroked your soft hair as you peeked, catching his eyes for just a moment before Madam pulled you closer. "After all, it was a joyous celebration of Prince Aemond becoming a man, and special memories like these are best kept close to the heart." You knew she was trying to protect you, as she did with any man or woman you met on accident, but this time she spoke in riddles.

A thick air of uncertainty hung between them before he responded. "Of course, Babette, I would not dream of soiling such a memory with loose lips," he replied, walking away with a curious expression. "Though," he said, causing Ma to tighten her grip on you, "I must admit, your daughter has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen." She nearly suffocated you now, shoving your face in between her breasts. "The hint of violet in them, oh, how exquisite. They remind me of my own," he turned to her with a devilish grin, "or perhaps someone else who has frequented this brothel, my Uncle, maybe?"

You weren't ignorant to his words, you knew what he was implying, but you did not have any of the same features of Daemon Targaryan. You did not have the same silver hair as him, nor the purple irises he has. You would hardly call yourself related.

"Thank you, Prince Aegon. To have my daughter be compared to the likes of royalty is the highest compliment of them all." Ma bowed her head stiffly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a business to run."

Before he could utter another word, Madam shut the wooden door, locking it with the keys she always kept on her swaying hip. She released you, crushing your small frame with her large one.

"Oh, I love you, little one," she let go before smacking you on the side of your head. How many times were you going to get hit today? You didn't want to know. "Don't you ever talk to a stranger again, or else I will have to send Lyra to be your chaperone." You tried to squirm from her firm grip, but she tugged you closer.

"Ma, I cannot breathe," you complained. She laughed, nuzzling her face into your neck.

"If you can speak, you can breathe," she said plainly, waiting a moment before letting you go. "Now, what did you say about some apples?" You smiled, showing her the bag as she took it off your shoulder. "How did you get all of these? I did not give you that much coin."

You giggled, looking away as you tossed the money she lent you. "I am very good at haggling, Madam." She sighed, knowing you must have stolen them, as she pulled you into another hug, kissing the top of your head.

"Oh, my sweet girl, whatever shall I do with you," she jested. Half scolding and half praising that you managed to get a dozen apples on your own without getting caught.

You ignored the loud moans and squeaking beds from the rooms above, going to the cramped kitchen. You stood next to Madam as she began peeling the skin off the apples, handing you a knife to do one. Ma had made you gather some ingredients throughout the week, but she did not tell you what she was planning. She knew how much you loved this dish.

It was your mother's favorite, too, so she should have known. Madam did not make it much for her, though, as she was just one of her many whores that came and went. She did not care for Elaina until she realized the prince had taken a liking to her. He had brought in most of the brothel revenue at the time, and when Elaina fell pregnant, she was angry. Any appreciation Madam had towards her was gone. She thought Elaina's stupidity would surely bring her to ruins under the realization that she would have to refuse prince Daemon now in fear of the bastard child's life, but the Gods seemed to favor her when another prince decided to frequent the halls. He made up for any loss in profits.

Madam did not want to lose you; she had grown quite fond of you over the years and knew the girls under her care did too. She didn't want to turn Aegon away, for that was a risk she could not take, but your safety came first. She would have to be more thoughtful about this. Madam would need to pull some strings and ask some favors of people to make sure you were either hidden or not here when he came. That was the only way you could remain safe.

"Ma, will I be a whore when I am grown?" Your question nearly caused her to faint, shocked something like that would even be on your barely-of-age mind.

"No, sweet thing, you will not," she answered curtly, cutting off a big chunk of fruit instead of a peel. You paused your actions, pursing your lips in thought before asking another question.

"What will I be then? Like you?" Madam sighed through her nose, putting the apple down on the cutting board.

"If you want, yes." She placed her hands on her wide hips. What had Aegon said to you? "Why do you ask, sweet one?"

You mirrored your caretaker's actions but didn't reach her eyes. "I-I do not know, Ma. It was just a silly thought. It does not matter." She could see you recoiling within yourself, hugging your young body. Her urge to comfort you overpowered any worry she had as she softened her posture and voice.

"It is not silly for you to have thoughts. Do not ever let anyone say that to you. Everything you think or feel is valid." You furrowed your brows at her, confused at where this sudden sentiment came from. "But do not worry yourself with thoughts of the distant future; you still have the breasts of a toddler." Madam pinched your slowly stretching skin as you yelped and swatted her hand away, chastising your guardian. "Now, go to the cellar and fetch me the items you got at the market this week." Your face brightened at finally knowing what Ma was going to make you.

"Apple Muse! Oh, Ma, I love you so much," you squealed, wrapping your arms around her in a bone-crushing hug before running down a hatch. Madam smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. For now, she was worried about the thought of your future.

I know, I know— such a boring chapter. No smut, which is crazy for me, but don't worry, it'll get nasty eventually. On that, I can promise you. ;)

Master List of Series

#hotd aegon #aegon the second #aegon the usurper #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #haelena targaryen #aegon x reader #aemond one eye #daemon prince #daemon x rhaenyra #aegon smut #aegon targaryen smut #house targaryen #targcest #aegon targaryen fanfic

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theteamgreen · 3 months

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He believed that his family were the only ones who wanted him to be king, and that was one of the reasons why he did not want to be king. After he reluctantly became king, he was surprised to hear and see people shouting his name with joy. The emotional transitions in this scene were very fast King Aegon ii Targaryen is a very different, complex character. It would take pages to describe him.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #haelena targaryen #crown #king #hightower #targaryen #george rr martin #team green #green #green queen #hbo #tom glynn carney #ser criston cole #olivia cooke

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swisscheesethethird · 2 years

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Alicent: Where is Aegon?

Haelena: Doing stuff.

Alicent: I don't like the sound of that . And ser Criston?

Haelena: Trying to stop Aegon from doing stuff.

Alicent: Aemond?

Haelena: Trying to stop Ser Criston from stopping Aegon.

Alicent: ......and you?

Haelena: I'm supposed to distract you so you don't stop Aemond.

#house of the dragon #incorrect quotes #f&b #hotd incorrect quotes #asoiaf #alicent hightower #haelena targaryen #aegon ii #criston cole #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #alicent x criston #kinda #hotd meme #Criston is the Green kids' dad fite meh #hotd

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a0random0gal · 4 months

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Viserys : I want Rhaenyra to succeed me as queen as she's my eldest living child. If anyone dares to object my decision they'll be charged with treason!

Also Viserys: *Marries another woman and has sons by her who could have a better claim that Rhae's for the Lords. Doesn't legally change the law of succession to absolute primogeniture, thus treating Rhaenyra's status as heir like a one time exception. Doesn't do anything to prevent her from having bastards so her position is even shakier than before. Doesn't teach her how to rule properly and allowes her to do as she pleases. Appoints Otto Hightower as hand even though he's known for being a schemer and generally a shady guy who obviously favors his grandson for the throne. Lets her marry her unstable uncle who's the reason he named her heir in the first place*

Half of Westeros: *understandably doesn't accept her and supports her brother instead, thus starting a devastating civil war*

Viserys from the seven hells:

#hotd #house of the dragon #pro team green #rhaenyra targaryen #anti viserys i targaryen #good how can someone be so blind and duumb #and don't get started with that “oh he was pressured to marry again it was his duty!”#Elizabeth I was also heavily pressured by everyone to marry and produce an heir. She cave in? hell no she was the queen!#so Vizzy had no excuses to get with a fourteen year old #alicent hightower #aegon targaryen ii #haelena targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #daeron targaryen #daemon targeryan #dance of the dragons

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mylovelookup · 1 year

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"Because this mess I made

I made with love.” -Ocean Vuong

#my art #my fanart #mine #fanart #art #hotd fanart #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #haelena targaryen #hotd #favorite Targaryen

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ewanmitchellclub · 3 months

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#ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #haelena targaryen #aegon targaryen #stills #my edits

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vermithorn · 1 year

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* WANTED U

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x fem!stark!reader

summary: aegon misbehaving, you’re done with him... or are you?

contains: angst, name calling, drinking, aegon being shitty, toxic relationship, reader being mean too hehe, sub/dom undertones.

author’s note: hello! this is a mix between two requests i got, the first one was “reader first discovering the soft subby side of aegon” ,,, i took some liberties with this one,,, and the other one was “the reader giving aegon the silence treatment” so yknow what your aegon lover had to do…, ! pls enjoy and remember english isn't my first language ! <; 3

aegon woke up with the worst hangover of his 20 years of life.

his name-day celebrations were last night, and he drank everything until he forgot everyone.

king viserys was very ill to attend the celebrations, so he made sure this one was the very best for his firstborn son.

aegon stirred in his bed, it was too big for him but the number of women he could keep there was high, so he was happy with it. it was probably past midday and no one bothered to wake up aegon, maybe his mother came to her senses and let him sleep more after his nameday.

he remembered a few things, finishing the day with queen alicent screaming at him for some reason he couldn’t remember correctly. meh, he brushed it off, his mother always reprimanded him for little things so he was used to it.

he called servant to get himself cleaned and dressed, the servant stuttered that it was not past midday and he was required to go and have lunch with his family as soon as possible.

on his way to eat, he tried to piece together his memories from last night. everything looked like a blur, he remembered clearly when he started drinking on the main table and then the memories faded away, they came back to his mother screaming and dragging him to his chambers with ser criston cole carrying him on his shoulder.

he stepped on the room and everyone who were chatting happily went quiet, damn, he sighed as he made his way to his seat next to his betrothed, you.

he tried to greet you but you gave him the cold shoulder causing him to frown, you continued eating your meal in silence occasionally chatting with helaena who was sitting next to you.

okay, that behavior from you wasn't that weird, but usually you were polite and even friendly with him. he couldn't recall why you were acting like that.

“nice for you to finally join us, brother.” aegon rolled his eyes as he smiled sarcastically at his younger brother.

“only my baby brother missed me, apparently my betrothed can't relate too much.” you turned around slowly to glare at him, you scoffed as you stood up.

“excuse me, i have some matters to attend right now, thank you for the meal.” you said and left without looking back, he groaned, it was too early for all of this.

queen alicent was staring angrily at him, “why can't you be a good man for once? don't you think it was enough of your words yesterday?”

“enlighten me, mother?”

as queen alicent listed things, one by one, aegon started slowly to remember last night, pin pointing exactly what happened with you.

it was probably his four cup of rum, his favorite. you were sitting by his side as you drank from your little cup, he tried to persuade you to get a cup as big as his but you shook your head, saying how your glass was perfectly fine.

he rolled his eyes as he ordered someone to get him more alcohol, he saw you make a face as his request and decided to confront you. “do you have a problem, love?”

“no, my prince,” you brushed it off sipping from your cup, he frowned and looked away.

a few moments later he decided he wanted to dance, so everyone had to indulge him and dance with him. he swayed around between maidens and ladies of the court who were totally obligated to yield to him as you watched from afar.

it was getting late, and aegon got drunker than ever, it was his nameday after all and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. you watched everything unfold from your seat at the main table.

he started getting handsy with a girl, and she was getting handsy too in return, also as drunk as your betrothed. you stared at him, considering carefully your options, you decided that you had enough and walked towards him quickly.

you grabbed his shoulder, separating him from the girl, “my prince, it's time to leave.” he looked absolutely wasted, staring at you with anger in his eyes.

“leave me alone.” he stated, turning around to return to his endeavors.

you scowled at him defiantly, “no, you heard me, prince aegon.”

“who the fuck do you think you are?” he fully turned towards you, towering you bitterly hostile.

“your betrothed.”

“of course, you love to remind me that every fucking day,” the girl left scared, you stood there unamused. “you're nothing to me more than a cunt to eat when i'm bored and a thing to bear my heirs, please remember that when trying to get me to do something, now get the fuck out of my sight.”

the next thing he knew, he was being carried to his chambers by ser criston cole. his mother screaming things at him, about how he could never treat you like that again, to think about their relationship with the north depended on your marriage with him and how they could not afford that at all.

his head hit the pillows on the bed and he was dead sleep.

oh, oh. it all came back like a punch in the face.

“now you remember, brother?” aemond smirked at him, “i can't believe lady stark didn't hit you in the face right there, i admire her composure.”

he excused himself to his chambers, without touching his food at all. he locked himself there, without caring about the preoccupied knocks from his sister and mocks from his brother. he felt guilty, he didn't thought about you like that at all, you were kind and friendly with him, even when he was annoying and borderline disturbing.

he was in a weird state of mind, queen alicent berating him in any way she could, his grandfather the hand of the king, being the same or maybe worst than his mother. he wasn't good enough for anyone, everyone wanted more of him than he could give.

his name-day was for him, to get drunk and forget everything for a good solid minute, but apparently that wasn't possible.

you didn't deserve that treatment, you were only trying to take care of him and he treated you like trash. you deserved better than a drunk like him.

he waited a few hours to head down to your designated chambers, knocking on your door softly.

“wait!” you rushed to the door, expecting everyone except prince aegon, your face falling at the sight of him leaning on your doorframe. “prince aegon, what do you need?” you said politely, but with a stoic face.

“i wanted to talk with you,” shit, this was harder than he thought. “i actually wanted to apologize.” you sighed as you moved to the side to let him into your chambers, closing the door behind you.

he sat carefully into your bed, making himself comfortable under your rigid gaze. he looked at you with caution, afraid you'll run away from him like the others, like his family always did.

“first, i want to say that i am sorry for my behavior last night, you were only trying to take care of me and i was distasteful to say the least.” you nodded, encouraging him to continue. “second, i wanted you to now that i do not think that, i mean, about what i said last night.”

“about how i am nothing to you? or the cunt and womb part of your little pathetic speech?” he winced, looking away from your stoic face.

he expected to you to break, shed some tears, sob, anything. but you stood there, with your arms crossed and that unbreakable aura you always had, that typical northmen thing common-folk talked about sometimes.

“i do not care, prince aegon,” he looked back at you, your eyes hard on him, “we are to get married, this is not a love bond, this is a political alliance between our houses.”

“then why you were trying to get me to leave yesterday if you don't care?” he quickly counter asked, regretting it instantly by the way you stared down at him.

“maybe i don't want people in the court talking how my betrothed is fucking other girls in front of me.” you said exposing your possessive tone, he shivered.

“you do care, then.” you took a step towards him, towering him like he did the night before.

“what if i care, you made sure to let me know what you think of me yesterday,” you spat, “to me you're nothing more than a pathetic drunk whore.”

his eyes watered at how could you think so little of him, feeling hypocritical of his own thoughts. you grabbed his jaw to make him look at you, “so if you want this relationship to work, you need to start respecting me, or i'll go home and come back with the whole north behind my back.”

he nodded the best he could with your grip on his jaw, sobbing slightly. you tilted your head, cleaning a few tears that went down his face with your other hand.

“i am sorry, l-love,” he stuttered, “i know you don't care about my apology but i am sorry.” you nodded, your features softening at the sight of the prince sobbing on your hand, you loosened your grip on his jaw and placed your hand on the side of his face.

“why are you crying, my prince?” he exhaled, closing his eyes while leaning on your hand.

“i don't want to be like this anymore,” he opened his eyes slowly to see you looking down at him, eyes soft. “all my life my mother has put her life goals on me, i don't want to be what she wants me to be, she never lets me be my own person so i always do this, to get her attention sometimes, maybe even my father could-”

you interrupted him, “okay, i think i get it now.”

you looked at him, his face soft against your hand, he was slightly hiccuping and it was the first time he shared his personal thoughts with you. the pieces of his behavior were slowly connecting in your head, he just wanted to be reassured, he wanted to be good enough for his family.

you couldn't excuse his behavior, but you started to get it. he was soon to become your husband, so you decided you'll do your very best to get him in the right path.

“you could start talking to me, normally.” you stated, he nodded quickly.

“i like being choked and praised,” you raised your eyebrows. “that is not normal enough?”

it was okay, it was a start, you decided to indulge him, “what else, my prince?” you said caressing his face.

“i usually require to be told i am a good boy.” he nodded enthusiastically.

your grip on his jaw hardened, he gasped, “are you, though? i'll need you in your very best behavior for me.”

his eyes lit up, “i'll do my best for you, love.”

#aegonii #tvrgvryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #got #game of thrones #aegon targaryen smut #haelena targaryen #aemond targaryen

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thequeenwechoose · 15 days

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Haelena Targaryen's blue dress in 4k

#house of the dragon #haelena targaryen #hotd #hotdedit #phia saban #perioddramaedit #costume design #4k

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myocsfanfictions · 26 days

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THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 2

Ysilla had been right. Her dragon had survived for the first weeks of his life, and it kept getting bigger. No one believed it, but he did, and the girl spent the majority of her time with her dragon.

Since it survived, her lady mother had agreed to make the Maester write to King's Landing so that the keeper of the Dragonpits could take a look at the dragon.

Soon, Ysilla found herself on a ship, cradling her dragon in her arms, heading to the Capital.

She had been when she was only two, or at least that was what her mother had told her. She had to go because her uncle wanted to meet her. But Ysilla had little memory of that. At that time, her aunt Aemma was still alive and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But only some months after her visit, she had died, giving birth to her son.

Her aunt came from the Vale as well, and Ysilla would have liked to remember her. But she really couldn't.

"You'll be taken care of," she whispered to her dragon, caressing his head. He seemed to like her touch, which made her giggle. "You are a strong one," she said proudly as his tail circled her wrist and moved his black wings.

Ysilla arrived at King's Landing by ship in five days. When she could see the shape of the city, the girl ran to the front.

King's Landing was huge, and she could already see the Red Keep and the Septon of Baelon. It looked so different from Runestone. Her castle was set on the tall mountains, and it was smaller than the Red Keep.

When her ship arrived at the dooks, her eyes noticed a knight wearing the white cloaks of the Kingsguard. He was a young man, olive-skinned and dark-haired. For some reason, his features made her blush. Her mother didn't let her hear songs much; Royces were strong warriors, and in a hard land like her own, there was no time for stories. But the few that Ysilla had heard talked about beautiful knights, such as the one that was waiting for her at the docks.

"Princess Ysilla," the knight greeted her with a bow of his head, which she reciprocated, holding her dragon in her arms.

"Good day, Ser," she answered politely, feeling a faint blush creep upon her cheeks at the realization she had no clue what the knight's name might be.

"Ser Criston Cole, my princess," he said gently, "I'll be escorting you to the castle. The King is waiting for you." He gestured towards a big carriage. The girl blinked her purple eyes in amazement. She never used those in Runestone; her mother taught her how to ride as soon as Ysilla could. Even her ride to the port had been made on the back of her pony.

Ysilla nodded silently, ready to follow the knight, but she didn't miss the way Ser Criston's eyes lingered upon her dragon.

"He is good," she said, suddenly afraid that they didn't want her dragon to enter the carriage. "He always obeys me, I swear," she assured him.

Since her dragon was born, Ysilla has never separated from him. He has become a dear friend to her, and he was always with her.

"Do not fear, princess," he smiled down at her, "Shall we go?"

Sadly, the carriage had no windows. Ysilla would have liked to watch the busy streets of the city, but she could only hear the people outside. She could not understand any words; they were just buzzing. Riding on horseback to the castle could have been more entertaining.

The dragon in her hands moved, and Ysilla looked down at it. He was still trying to find a way to move as swiftly as possible, trying to put all his strength into his front legs. Sometimes, he hurt her with his claws, accidentally scratching her skin. But Ysilla was patient with him.

"How old is he?" Ser Criston Cole asked her. She knew he had seen her dragon's missing legs, as he had noticed her dark hair streaked with silver.

"Almost two months old," she answered, biting her lower lip, feeling a bit shy. "Ser Criston," she called after some moments of silence, "Is my father here in King's Landing by any chance?"

The knight shook his head, "I'm sorry, princess. Prince Daemon is still fighting on the Stepstones." She flushed with shame. She should have known, but she stupidly had hoped that maybe he would have came in King's Landing after hearing of her arrival. She had just being stupid.

"Oh, thank you." The little claw of her dragon trying to keep himself up made her look down so that their eyes would meet.

You are here, though, she thought, caressing its head.

Once they arrived at the Red Keep, Ysilla felt so small looking up at the stone that built the castle.

"Ysilla Targaryen," her presence was announced as she stepped down the carriage, helped by Ser Criston. On the steps at the entrance of the castle, Ysilla noticed a man with long silver hair wearing black and red vests. On his face, there was a short beard, and he was smiling at her. He was the King Viserys and Ysilla's uncle. Next to him a young lady, with auburn hair tied at the back of her head. Her hands were resting upon her swollen belly. She must have been the young Queen Alicent, her aunt.

"My dear niece," the King said, walking towards her with open arms.

"Your Grace," she knew how to talk to the King; her Maester had thought of her well.

"You've grown so much, my dear," he said, gently smiling at her. At that, Ysilla felt like blushing. She knew how she was supposed to talk to the King, but not so much to her uncle, so she decided only to smile.

"You must be tired," the sweet voice of the Queen got her attention to see her stopping next to her husband, "And hungry."

"You are very kind, my Queen," she spoke shyly, "But I'd like to ask you to make sure my dragon is healthy."

Both the King and the Queen looked at the little beast in her arms. And Ysilla noticed their eyes linger at on the dragon, searching for the hind legs.

"It is-"

"Strong," she spoke, interrupting her uncle, blushing, "But we do not have Dragonpit in Runestone."

"Then we should bring him to the Dragonpit," another voice said from behind the King. She was a pretty girl with long silver hair and a smile, dressed in a soft yellow gown. Ysilla knew who she was: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne.

"You want to think about it, Rhaenyra?" Ysilla's uncle asked. The girl noticed the princess making a strange face when her father spoke as if she didn't want him to share words with her. But when Rhaenyra's eyes went back to Ysilla, she smiled again.

"Of course," she said, gesturing towards the carriage.

"He is so pretty," Rhaenyra told her once the carriage moved again to bring them to the Dragonpit. Then she frowned as she got closer, taking a better look at the hatchling. Ysilla brought him closer to her.

"Thank you, princess," Ysilla answered, waiting for a comment from her cousin. She knew she would; everyone did. Ysilla's mother was not even sure that he would have survived.

"How's he called?" The question surprised her. She was ready to answer any question about her dragon, but not that. Ysilla blushed.

"I still have not named him," she admitted, ashamed.

"And why is that?" Asked Rhaenyra curiously.

"No name fits," the girl answered, caressing the head of her dragon.

Rhaenyra smiled. "It will come," she assured her, "Give it time."

Ysilla looked up, her lips curling up, appreciating her cousin's words. When she did so, she noticed the neckless of smoke-grey steel with a deep red ruby in its center. It was shining brightly, even if there was not so much light inside the carriage.

"You like it?" Rhaenyra asked, touching the necklace with her fingers. Ysilla nodded shyly.

"It's Valyrian steel," her cousin said, and Ysilla's eyes grew large.

"Like Lamentation!" She exclaimed, remembering the Valyrian Steel sword that House Royce possessed.

"And Blackfyre, or Dark Sister," Rhaenyra said, talking about the swords that one Aegon the Conquerer and his sister-wife Vysenia possessed.

"Father wields Dark Sister!" She knew all about those matters. Ysilla loved Valyrian Steel. Rhaenyra chuckled, nodding her head.

"Exactly!" She exclaimed before touching the neckless once again, "This was his gift."

Those words confused Ysilla. Her father had given that necklace to Rhaenyra? Why? Perhaps for her name-day, no doubt. If not, why? But did her father usually give gifts on name-days? Ysilla never received anything from him, nor did she know. Or maybe he did!

He must have if he had given something to Rhaenyra, Ysilla though. Her mother probably never gave her presents because she was still a little girl of five—too young for such jewelry.

It must be it, she thought, looking down at her dragon when he moved in her hands.

The Dragonpit was huge. Set atop one of the hills of King's Landing. The Hills of Rhaenys, Rhaenyra called it. The main door of bronze and iron was so tall that Ysilla felt her neck ache when she tried to look up. The Dragonpit was the home of the royal dragons of House Targaryen. Ysilla looked at her dragon as they walked inside, wondering if he would have liked to stay with the other dragons more. Maybe, that was the right place for him.

The Maesters of the Dragonpit were like nothing Ysilla had ever seen. They spoke a strange language that she had never heard before.

"Do you know High Valyrian?" Rhaenyra asked from next to her. High Valyrian was the language that was spoken by the people of Valyria. But Ysilla did not know it. No one in the household was Targaryen. And her mother wanted to raise her proud and strong like the people of the Vale and Ysilla wanted to be. But a part of her wanted to be Targaryen. She was a Targaryen, and she felt ashamed when she shook her head, admitting that she did not know High Valyrian. Rhaenyra observed her for a moment before starting to talk with the Dragonpit Maester. The man spoke to Ysilla, who only frowned, but then Rhaenyra touched her shoulder with a gentle smile.

"He'd like to see the dragon," Ysilla held it a little more, knowing that she had to let him go. The man was waiting, but she could only focus on the dragon moving in her hands.

"It's going to be alright," she assured, looking at the purple eyes of the hatchling. You are a good dragon," she said before moving her arms so that the man could take him. He squirmed, complaining as Ysilla took a step back.

The man put the dragon on a stone table. The little beast had some difficulty staying still due to the lack of its hind legs. But Ysilla observed him proudly as he found his balance using his wings, his long black and purple neck standing eloquently as he got more confident.

The man started to talk, and Ysilla turned to Rhaenyra, who was waiting for her to translate.

"He is deformed," Rhaenyra said, "The hind legs had not developed. He should have been dead by now," Ysilla's heart beat fast, full of worry, "And yet he is strong." Rhaenyra added, "Strong muscles, strong wings. It is unlikely that he will perish." Ysilla felt tears in her eyes, "He is growing good for his age. He says it is a miracle."

"So he will be fine!" Ysilla exclaimed happily. Rhaenyra nodded her head with a happy smile. Then the man talked again, and Ysilla waited patiently for her cousin to translate.

"He needs to be watched over," she said, "If he survives the furst year of age, he will be fine."

Ysilla was so glad to hear, and after asking the permission to go to her dragon, she happily caressed his head.

"You are going to be fine," she assured him, "And we are always going to be together."

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