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msmorningstaarr · 4 months

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let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

ao3 | masterlist

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;

a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.

His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.

“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.

“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.

“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.

“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.

“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.

“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.

“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”

The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.

“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.

Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”

“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.

“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”

“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.

“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.

“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.

“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.

“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”

“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.

“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.

“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.

“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.

You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.

“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.

“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.

“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”

“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.

By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.

“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”

You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.

“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.

“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.

You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.

As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.

When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.

“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.

“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”

And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.

“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.

The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.

“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.

The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.

“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.

“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.

With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.

Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.

“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.

Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."

And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."

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venus-maneater · 1 year

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a loyal dog’s reward. | yan! criston cole

soft yandere / obsessed au

fem! targaryen princess reader

synopsis. the knight’s death wasn’t convenient, but at least now you knew the lengths Ser Criston was willing to go for you.

part ii.

note; this is an au where rhaenyra/criston never happened ! he is reader’s sworn shield. reader is written with targaryen features and is kind of a sick and twisted brat (we stan). ALL CONTENT ON MY BLOG IS FICTIONAL.

WARNING(s): possessive/obsessive tendencies, violence, minor character death, unhealthy relationship dynamics, manipulation, age gap (reader is 19, criston is around 27), references to size difference, reader knows abt his tendencies and takes advantage of them, nsfw content but not full smut, allusions/references to sex, subby criston cole, dom-ish reader, praise-kink??, breeding kink??, mocking, usage of “dog”

“I know how you think of me.”

Do you really? Do you know how much he thinks of you, how he craves you? How he wants nothing more than to steal you away so no one else can ever see you again except him? He wants you to be his, only his. That’s all he wants.

“You can’t get me out of your head, can you, Ser Criston?”

He knows you emphasized his title on purpose; he was a member of the Kingsguard lusting after the Princess, and yet he couldn’t feel any guilt from behind the overwhelming desire he has for you. It’s not just lust, it’s so much more than lust. He wants you; mind, body, and soul. He wants you to look at him the way he looks at you. He wants to grow old with you and fill you up with babies. Babies that will have his dark hair and your violet eyes, or maybe even the opposite.

“You would do anything for me?”

Yes, gods yes he would. Ask for anything and its yours. Please, please, please ask something of him.

You’d noticed his peculiar behavior months ago, but you suppose it hadn’t gone far enough for you to say anything about it until now. You noticed how his eyes never left your figure if you were in the room, how he stiffened when you stood even remotely near another man, how he followed you around like a lost puppy. It was endearing at first, but tonight he had killed someone for you. Not only that, but he did it violently and in public. In all fairness, the hedge Knight was creepy and invasive, you didn’t like him. But Criston was a member of the Kingsguard, he couldn’t go around killing people just because he wanted to.

There was a tourney to celebrate your older sister Rhaenyra’s first pregnancy. She was married to Laenor around 6 months ago, so most of the family found it pleasant that she was already pregnant. Though, you knew it wasn’t Ser Laenor who was the father (or at least you assumed it wasn’t). You were rather close with your sister and her husband; you knew well what they got up to and what they didn’t. All was well for you, you found Ser Harwin to be a lovely friend.

Although Criston Cole was your sworn shield, you insisted he enter the tourney for the entertainment. Many had entered from all over Westeros, and your shield had always succeeded in physical competitions in the past.

“I’d just like to see you win.” You told him, batting your eyes. He was quick to obey your request at that.

Ser Criston received your favor right before his first round, and won the tournament just as you knew he would. A hedge knight from the Reach came in second place to your shield. He seemed nice enough and was a rather good sport about losing, but frankly he was annoying. He wouldn’t stop following Criston around, which eventually lead to him introducing himself to you as Tion Gracefeld. His presence didn’t bother you at first, but you could clearly tell how much Criston hated it.

After the event ended, there was celebration all throughout King’s Landing, so there was a bit of chaos on the short journey back to the Red Keep. Tion took advantage of this, trying to get closer to you. Of course, Criston was there to push him back each time, telling him “please give the princess some space” through gritted teeth.

His jealousy was a bit cute to you, so you let Ser Tion continue with his behavior. It wasn’t such a bother, but as you approached the castle, his words became less playful and more… sexual. Foul, even.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened for certain, the violence was too quick, but you knew that he grabbed your arm before Ser Criston murdered him for it. The Dornish Kingsguard grabbed Tion, pulling him from you and throwing him to the ground. You were sure the beating was bad, considering it was enough for him to die from his injuries, but you refused to look.

Criston was eventually pulled off the man after a couple minutes, and now here he was. Sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, hands and armor splattered in blood.

“Look at me.” You told him. You had to give him some credit, he listens to you so well, “Why did you do it? What made you angry enough to kill him?”

You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as you stepped closer, only to stop directly in front of him.

He took in a quick breath before answering, looking up at you with frustrated eyes, “He was talking to you like- like you were some… whore. There was no respect. He was trying— to touch you. I’m your sworn protector, Princess, I was only doing my job.”

He didn’t want you to know about his sick obsession with you, trying to hide it using his position as an excuse for his behavior. Unfortunately for him, it was incredibly obvious. You could tell how angry he still was from the interaction; his hands shaking, chest heaving, and jaw clenched.

“You know,” You started, looking down into Criston’s eyes and leaning closer to his face, “I didn’t really like the guy, myself. But you’ve gotten me into quite the situation. You should be charged for your crimes, I’m afraid.”

Even seated, he was so close to your height that you didn’t have to lean down much to meet at eye-level.

“I’m sorry, my Princess” was all that left him, drunk on the lack of space between you.

“That’s all you have to say?” You whispered, your breath hitting his lips. His pupils were blown impossibly wide, making you smile. As disturbing as this whole thing was, he was almost too attractive for you to care. Almost.

“I don’t want to be taken from you.” He whispered. He didn’t care that he killed someone, he wasn’t sorry, he just didn’t want to be forced to leave you. Tion deserved his wrath; he got too close to you.

You smiled slightly, standing back up to your full height. Using your knee, you pushed the man’s legs apart so you could stand between them. Your hands moved from your sides to his chest, “You won’t. I’ll fix it for you, I truly don’t mind. My father will believe me when I tell him Ser Tion was harassing me, and that you just stepped in to defend my honor.”

Criston gulped, taking in a deep breath to surround himself in your scent. He didn’t say a word.

Your hands slowly creeped up to his shoulders, then into his hair, “Do you ever think about kissing me, Ser Criston?”

His eyelids dropped slightly, the euphoria of your hands running through his locks reaching him.

“As your Princess, you’re sworn to tell me the truth.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, “Please, Princess. I am soiled with blood, I don’t want it touching you.”

“No? Then perhaps you should’ve exercised more self-control.” You quipped. Deciding to make things more difficult, you climbed into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs. There was a lot less blood on his legs than on his chest or arms, but you could still feel a bit of it seeping into the gentle fabric of your silk dress. Good thing you were wearing red.

His eyes squeezed shut even tighter. Self-control you had said. Was this a test? Did you want him to sit still? Then he would. His bloodied hands were balled up in fists beside him.

“You defend me fiercely,” You said. “kind of like a dog, don’t you think.”

It wasn’t a real question, he knew you were just mocking him for his behavior. You knew about him. You know how sick he is for you.

“My fierce dog,” You grinned, “protecting me from any man that speaks his filthy words to me.”

You were perfect, so perfect. His goddess.

“Do you want a reward for your behavior? For protecting me?” You asked. Criston was amusing to you. It was boring at court, having so many people try to flatter themselves into gaining your favor, men trying to marry you for power. But Criston Cole was different; he was genuinely dedicated to you. As a member of the Kingsguard, he had nothing to gain from being with you.

“Reward?” He rasped, his eyes fluttering open, curious. You had never look so pretty as you did in this moment; smiling at him whilst sat atop his lap.

“Yes, a reward. I can give you a kiss, if you’d accept?”

“A kiss?” He questioned, shocked at your proposal.

You giggle at him, moving close enough that your noses are touching, “Is that a ‘no’? Do you not want a kiss from your princess?”

He does. He really does. But how could he dare dishonor you by accepting? A Princess of the realm should not be kissing her guard. Your reputation would be ruined if anyone were to find out.

“Can’t.” He eventually sputtered, his forehead resting against yours.

“And why not? Do you not fantasize about it? What other fantasies do you have?”

His eyes were squeezed shut, but he could hear the smirk in your voice. “I— yes, but Princess….” He cut himself off before he finished, you must save your affections for your future husband.

He held back a snarl; he didn’t want you to have a future husband, at least not one that wasn’t him. But he was not allowed to be married and even if he were, he was not high-born like you. Your father would never approve.

“Answer me, Cole, tell me what you imagine occurring between us.” You were getting frustrated with him, this was supposed to be easy, “Look back up at me properly.”

He did as you said and more; finally letting his urges control him, he pushed his lips to yours. His hands, the blood now beginning to dry and stick, gripped at your waist tightly. You gasped into his mouth, quick to reciprocate with your hands pulling at his dark locks.

“‘Think about marrying you,” he muttered against your lips, “keeping you safe, an’ you thanking me all pretty. So pretty, you’re perfect.”

Placing your hand flat on his chest, you pull away by just an inch, “Thanking you, huh? Is that what you want?”

“‘Just want you to love me. Want you to be mine, just for me. I could— I can give you anything, just ask. We can leave here— and be together—!”

You giggled, “You’re getting too excited, Ser Criston. I’m a princess, you know.”

“There— there are places, my Love,” he let out a shocked huff as you pushed him onto his back, “in Essos, where titles do not matter.”

“Is that so?” You moved up his body before settling on his stomach, which was still covered in tainted armor. “And what would we do there? Build a farm? Have babies?”

“Yes.” A part of him could tell you were only teasing, but it was overshadowed by the part of him yearning for a life with you.

You slowly bent down, your body flush against his, and whispered into his ear, “You want to put a few babies in me?”

Not thinking, he reached up a hand and held the back of your head to keep you in place, “More than a few. They’ll inherit your beauty, my Love.”

“Mmm,” You grabbed his hand and sat back up, “your eyes and my hair?”

“Or the opposite.”

Laughing, you tilted your head back, still gripping his right hand between yours. Your laugh eventually subsided with a happy sigh, and you looked back at him. You had so much power over the big man laying happily beneath you, it was funny. He was staring at you obediently, waiting for you to say or do something. Slowly, you slid the black glove off his fingers and pulled his hand up to your lips. He watched as you placed soft kiss to each of his bruised knuckles. His hand was so large beside your features.

“I’m quite fond of you. What should I do if my father refuses to see reason and executes you for your crimes?” It wouldn’t happen, you both knew. But he was happy to entertain your questions, just so long as you were talking to him and touching him.

“I would only ask that I’d be buried where you can visit. I do not desire to be far from you, even in death.” His hand gripped yours tightly at that.

As morbid as the conversation was getting, Criston had never felt so good. You were truly seeing him in this moment, and you didn’t even mind his sickness. You weren’t afraid, you liked it, even. You liked that he would so easily kill for you and how he’d die for you without issue just as long as you would keep him in death.

You hummed in satisfaction, “You’re giving me very good answers, are you sure you aren’t trying to trick me?”

“I would never deceive you.” He sat up, suddenly serious. His quick movements shook you physically, but you didn’t seem surprised. In order to hold on and keep from falling as you slid back down to his lap, one of your arms wrapped its way around his neck.

You snickered at his reaction, placing a short kiss to his lips, “‘Was only a jest. I know you would never do such a thing. You would never upset me, would you?”

“No.” He whispered, kissing from your lips, down to your jaw softly, “I love you.”

“How much?” You breathed, your eyes fluttering shut.

“More than anything— anyone.” He kept going, sure to reach every bit of open space he could, “You are the very center of my existence, nothing else matters. You’re everything to me. I want you like this forever.”

“Forever? No matter what I do to you?”

His mouth was now below your ear, gently sucking a mark into your skin, “You can do no wrong, my Love, everything you bring me is a gift.”

There were droplets of red still on his face and neck from the blood splatter, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you seemed to care any longer about the gore; the way your red dress was now soaked in it from touching his armor.

You still hadn’t yet released his right hand, and he never dared to pull away. Humming from the pleasure, you slowly brought his hand to rest on your thigh. He immediately adjusted himself so that his fingertips were digging into the soft skin, afraid to move otherwise. Very slowly, you began to rock your hips against him. You could hear his already intense breathing pick up.

“And if my father decides to marry me off?” You whisper into his neck.

Criston lifts his head, dark obsessive eyes boring into your own, “Then I shall kill whatever Lord he chooses.”

- venus

#criston cole x reader #yandere hotd #yandere criston cole #dark criston cole #obsessive criston cole #criston cole #hotd x reader #targaryen reader #targaryen oc #yandere x reader #dark! hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon #game of thrones #fire and blood #yandere got #got x reader #yandere house targaryen

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zae5 · 7 months

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Red and gold (necklines, bodices and sleeves)

#house of the dragon #royal gifts #hotd imagine #hotdedit #targaryen queen aesthetic #house targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #targaryen oc #fits

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sylasthegrim · 1 year

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The Silver Princess MASTERLIST

Cregan Stark x Rowena Targaryen (daughter of Daemon and Rhea Royce!OC)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: arranged marriage, romance, romantic and sexual tension

Summary: In the hope of maintaining a united realm, King Viserys arranged the marriage of Cregan Stark with the Princess Rowena, daughter of Prince Daemon and Lady Rhea Royce.

Faceclaims:

Arnas Fedaravicius (Sihtric) as Cregan Stark

Holliday Granger (Lucrezia Borgia) as Rowena Targaryen

Prologue

2,035 words

Chapter 1 - ARRIVAL TO WINTERFELL

4,170 words

Chapter 2 - THE GODSWOOD

3,445 words

Chapter 3 - THE OLD WAYS

3,765 words

Chapter 4 - THE HUNT

4,180 words

Chapter 5 - THE TENT

3,655 words

Chapter 6 - A QUESTION OF VIRTUE

3,480 words

Chapter 7 - BLOOD OF TWO

5,080 words

Chapter 8 - UNITED SOULS

3,655 words

Chapter 9 - THE WOLF AND THE DRAGON

3,560 words

Chapter 10 - A LADY'S DUTY

3,590 words

Chapter 11 - CASTLE BLACK

3,700 words

Chapter 12 - THE WHITE WOLF

3,840 words

Chapter 13 - THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH

3,870 words

Chapter 14 - THE BLOOD OF THE WOLF

3,550 words

Epilogue

1,560 words

Work in progress: 16/16 chapters

Total word count: 57,545

Comment to be added to the taglist. Reblog to show love.

Taglist: @bbvrnskycspn @kateris-world @elleclairez @watercolorskyy @praline357 @sandronebabyy @whodis-26 @elle-28 @mari0302 @hb8301 @flawroses @random-shit-i-like-2 @heavenly1927 @thegeminithrone @vixemi @rockerchick05 @maniccrystalhippie @melsunshine @siimiasoi .

#masterlist #fanfiction #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #house targaryen #targaryen oc #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x oc #cregan stark x oc #cregan fanfiction #arnas fedaravicius #house stark

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targayrenss · 8 months

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We Remember -Viserys Targaryen

pairing:Viserys Targaryen × Targaryen Oc

Content:Incest, Age-Gap

Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce if they managed to consummate their marriage, from that one time the twins Lyanna and Aemon Targaryen were born.

In their childhood, both twins were very loved by his parents, Daemon even tried to live healthy with his bronze dog so as not to fight in front of the children.

On his ninth name day, Daemon had to take his children to King's Landing, insisting that his children needed to learn about their dragons and his family.

Lyanna grew up with her cousin Rhaenyra who was only a year older than her, shortly after her arrival the hand of the king had to bring her daughter to the fortress to serve both as the lady of company of her

When the King decided to marry Alicent after Aemma Arryn's death, Lyanna and Rhaenyra began to have bad blood with the new queen.

Both avoiding her, Lyanna supported Rhaenyra for being angry with Alicent, she decided to betray her without caring a bit about her friendship.

But when the rumor about Rhaenyra and her father in Silk Street reached her, and days after her mother died mysteriously after her father's exile, it was breaking point for Lyanna.

She continued to feign friendship with Rhaenyra, comforting her when she was informed of her wedding to Laenor Velaryon, judging the queen together.

But Lyanna and Aemon have the perfect move to get back at Rhaenyra, and get Alicent Hightower off the board for once.

#viserys targaryen x oc #viserys targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #targaryen oc #house royce #daemon targeryan #rhea royce

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deadmenandthedivine · 9 months

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dead men § the divine

table of contents

Lady Rhea Royce gave birth to a single daughter prior to her untimely death.

Princess Maetilda Targaryen was the sole heir to Runestone.

Her father, the Rogue Prince, kept her by his side, ensuring he always had a Keep to his name. Even after his marriage to the heir of the Seven Kingdoms, he refused to accept an engagement for her. Runestone was his castle. Princess Maetilda was his daughter. The Seven Kingdoms was his playground. There only seemed to be one small problem: the Greens.

The Greens occupied the Red Keep for over half a decade while the Rogue Prince and his future Queen raised their children on Dragonstone as tradition. It would seem having the King's castle and the Conqueror's crown plays an advantage when the dragons dance. It became apparent as the virescent cause does not suffer by delivering the first blows.

Despite only holding claims to one of the foundational keeps in the Vale, Princess Maetilda finds herself wrapped up in the center of the conflict. At the mercy of the men around her. Prince Aemond seeks to take what belongs to him, most especially the Rogue Prince's bronze babe.

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

✧.*.·:¨ ✘♚✘ ¨:·.*.✧

✫ prologue — rumors from runestone

✫ chapter one — cold landings and green castles

✫ chapter two — a father’s praise

✫ chapter three — mysteries that muddy the keep

✫ chapter four — what the trees see

✫ chapter five — the maids that bloom in spring

✫ chapter six — bound in old magic

✫ chapter seven — the fate of wagging tongues

✫ chapter eight — dead flowers and garden bugs

✫ chapter nine — new leather boots

✫ chapter ten — an old man’s guilt

✫ chapter eleven — the tower tapestry

✫ chapter twelve — drowned in insignificant details

✫ chapter thirteen — the ghost of years coming and years past

✫ chapter fourteen — what the lady beetle does

✫ chapter fifteen — dragons have horns

✫ chapter sixteen — relearning from the same mistakes

✫ chapter seventeen — last suppers and sealed deals

✧.*.·:¨ ✘♚✘ ¨:·.*.✧

A/N: i do bend the plot of hotd/tweak the lore of the vale just a lil bit for my own convenience. also i'm not well versed in historical outfits and stuff so my descriptions may not be accurate to the time. but it's gotta be like that sometimes, you know?

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marvelita85 · 8 months

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Aemond saw her standing in front of ta mirror, looking at herself, smothering her dress, his niece, his future wife, he couln't stop looking at her and he hate himself for having those feelings towards her

-do I look alright? - he heard her wispereed she doubt herself... how could she?

- you look beautiful....- her mismatched eyes found his single indigo one - you are beautiful... - he couldn't stop his words from his mouth as he turn around and kept his way throught the corridor

-Aemond! - her voice behind him made him stop but he couldn't turn so she walked around and staded before him... - you cant tell me I'm beautiful and walk away from me

- I'm sorry princess...

- please tell me the truth, you are my family... and my future husband

- many in court think we shouldnt be betrothed

- and why you think is that?

- because you are, beautiful... smart the heir of the throne after your mother and you could do so much better than a second son who is also... - he couldnt say what he wanted to say because in that moment she understood everything and leaned into him kissing the scar in his cheek

- you are also very smart and very handsome in my eyes, I dont really care what the court think about you... - I'm going to kiss your scar every day from this day foward to remind you that the king might have betrothed us for the family but you are still my choise

Aemond didnt know where he found his courage to grab her cheeks with both his hand and properly kiss her lips, his tongue teasing her own one making her gasp and allowing him to explore her mouth for the first time, when they both needed to breath again separated she was agitated and so was he..

- are we allow to kiss like that?

- not yet... but we will

- until then my prince please dont temp me again...

- I cant make promises I'm not sure I can keep... - her mischivious smile matched his own as a moment later his mother called upon both of then to entered the hall for the night feast ordered by the king both of them walked with flush cheeks but a very sweet flavour in their mouths

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond #aemond x oc #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x velaryon reader #prince aemond x princess oc #targaryen princess #targaryen oc #targaryen prince #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond x you

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chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct · 3 months

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Targaryen ship names make good Targaryen names in general.

I was thinking about this the other day when i was making Abigail's last child and i was going to name her Daensa, i thought it was pretty and i couldn't remember where i had seen it, low and behold it's the Daenerys x Sansa ship name! And it got me thinking about how other ship names are good for character. Think about it, Rhaegon, Daemyra, Jonerys, Rhaenicent, like??? If those were the names of actual Targaryens i wouldn't blink an eye. I know that the reason they make good Targaryen names is because of course are made with Targaryen names but the urge to make characters with those names is through the roof!!

Side bar, my friend was telling me about this one artist called Rosehaerys, which i also think is an excellent Targaryen name, and their art is IMMACULATE, they have nsfw stuff as well which gave me whiplash when my friend showed me lol.

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lovebaela · 10 days

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THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH - MASTERLIST

(Bran Stark x Fem!Targaryen OC)

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

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑹𝑯𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑹𝒀𝑬𝑵 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲 ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

✮ ₊ Chapters ✧ ᵔ₊ 𓆪

1, 2, 3

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

Art by eleneyaart, fredrickruntu

Dividers by @saradika-graphics @saradika

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

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j-morgan-fly · 29 days

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@murmel-malt this is my OC Daella with her husband, Prince Qoren of Dorne and their children further down the line of her story.

Since our OC’s are so similar I wanted to share a sneak peak of her with you.

#my oc art #my oc character #targaryen oc #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #asoiaf

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daenysthedreamer101 · 1 month

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Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Prologue

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, evenutal Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Word count: 400

"In the year 97, Queen Alysanne betrothed her grandson, Prince Daemon, to Lady Rhea Royce who was the heiress to Runestone. Begrudgingly, the young prince who was then 16, agreed. Rhea herself was only 15. There was no love between the two. Daemon found the Vale boring, his lady wife included. Still, they did their marital duty. Half a year later, in the early months of 98 AC, lady Rhea discovered she was with child. To everyone's surprise, the Prince was delighted. Most delighted of all was the Good Queen Alysanne. Just a year prior, her granddaughter Aemma Arryn delivered a baby girl, Rhaenyra. Another great-grandchild was on the way and it warmed the heart of the Good Queen."

("Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros" by Archmaester Gyldayn)

In the high mountains of the Vale, in the early hours of the sixth day of the tenth month of 98 AC, Lady Rhea began her labors. After several discussions, it was decided that she would give birth at Runestone. Lady Rhea wasn't fond of how busy and packed the Red Keep seemed to be. She wanted to give birth in the comfort of her own home. And so she did.

After many hours, the child was born. It was a girl. A healthy babe, with strong lungs and an even stronger appetite, the girl was named Daena. Some at court speculated that Daemon named the girl after himself, but Rhea claimed that her daughter was named in honor of the late Princess Daella, who was the wife of Lord Rodrick Arryn and the Lady of the Vale. Either way, after the news of Daena's birth reached the Old King and his Good Queen, the bells of the Great Sept in King's Landing rang for an entire day.

The young lady Rhea adored her daughter. She fed the child at her own breast and refused a wet nurse. As would be expected, the little girl took after her father and had the traditional Valyrian features of House Targaryen - pale lilac eyes and silver-gold hair. The father, Prince Daemon, was also smitten by his daughter.

"Ñuha zaldrītsos", the Prince whispered in High Valyrian as he rocked the newborn in his arms.

----

High Valyrian:

Ñuha zaldrītsos - My little dragon

***

Here it is! My first HOTD fanfic! This is obviously just the prologue and it is quite short, but I enjoy it. I also plan on writing other HOTD/GOT fanfics as well, but I will do one series at a time.

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! ❤❤❤

If you have any opinions feel free to comment!

P. S.

It has come to my attention that there was another hotd fanfic with the same name as mine with the premise of a Daemon/Rhea child (Bronze Fury). Out of respect for the author, the fact that it come out way before mine and cause I genuinely don't want any problems I changed the name of my fic.

Again I'd like to thank the person who notified me, @vampbuzz11 you're a real one. ❤

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galacticwildfire · 1 year

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Sad, Beautiful, Tragic | Alicent Hightower

One

Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!oc

Their fathers sworn enemies, Viserra and Alicent should never have been as close as they were, yet it was a connection neither could fight. What began as an innocent girlhood companionship becomes something scandalous, with the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen showing her true colours. As the dance begins she finds herself torn between her loyalty to her house and her love for her father. Yet neither hold a candle to her forbidden love for the new queen, a love which threatens to destroy them both.

Word count : 6600

A/N: this chapter is set during episode one, setting up the tone for the rest of the story. For hotd/got stories I do not typically use tags unless it is for severe content warnings, all violence and themes will align with that in canon.

A year it's been since I've stepped foot in Kings Landing. So long has passed since my father decided to take me on one of his adventures to Dorne and then across the narrow sea, to show me the ruins of old Valyria with my own eyes, only to return for the heir's tournament.

Except despite his insistence, it is not his tournament, but that of the king's unborn child. I can only imagine how Rhaenyra must feel as the king's daughter, because gods do I know how my father is taking it as the king's brother. If he were to be disinherited by a baby boy he may just kill it himself.

"Now," Father begins as we walk through the gates of the Red Keep, our dragons returning to the Dragonpit for the first time in so long. "If that cunt of Hightower makes even a single comment I want to know."

"It's Otto Hightower, of course he will," I reply, knowing the reason he decided to take me and leave. Otto Hightower made the mistake of complaining to the king that I am of too low a status to be seen with his daughter. Something my father did not take well to. "He's a cunt by nature, you can't win them all over."

"I don't have any desire to win him over, what I desire is to cut his tongue out for calling my only daughter a bastard."

"Except I am a bastard," I remind him, the very words Viserys told him. "His tongue cannot be cut out for speaking the truth."

"A legitimised bastard, I made sure of that," he reminds me in return. "My brother knew he'd have hell to pay if he didn't give you the Targaryen name and legitimise you, especially after I named you in his honour. Don't forget that when you walk through the Red Keep you are my heir and a fucking dragon rider. You are above the likes of Otto Hightower."

"It's not hard to be above him," I remark and say "I'll just be glad to see Rhaenyra and Alicent."

He groans. "You truly wish to run around with that girl knowing who her father is?"

"Alicent is sweet," I dismiss, immediately protective. "It's hardly her fault who her father is."

"That may be true but she is utterly boring," he remarks and I roll my eyes. "Rhaenyra is the one you ought to be close with."

"If I recall I was inseparable with both before the kingsguard had to stop you from cutting Otto's tongue out in the small council chamber."

"And I'd do it again."

"In that case I'll happily run around with Alicent and Rhaenyra," I tell him. "They are the closest thing I have to sisters, I will not let insults take that from me."

"Yes well, as long as Otto doesn't like it I'm fine with it," he allows and reminds me. "Now don't let them keep Darkfyre in the pits for too long, she's growing fast out of captivity. I give it only a few years and she'll be as large as Caraxes." He looks towards the throne room. "You go settle in, I'll see you after."

He leaves me to my own devices, and the first place I go is to the queens chambers to see her, it's only by chance they are both there as well.

"Your grace, the Lady Viserra."

As I'm announced they all look to me in surprise, but it is a happy one.

Rhaenyra immediately jumps up to hug me, followed by Alicent, and I look over their shoulders to Aemma, sitting up with a hand resting on her belly.

"I was starting to worry your father would never bring you back," she says and reaches out her hand. "Come here child, let me see you." She smiles as I come over. "You look like Jeyne more every day."

Jeyne. My mother. A lady in waiting to Aemma when she was first brought to court from the Vale. I know well enough it was not love what happened between her and my father, for he left her at the first mention of pregnancy and returned for me after she had died in the childbed. But before then Aemma had promised my mother she would care for me, and she has.

"How are you faring?" I ask her, noticing her discomfort.

"I could be better, but as I was just telling Rhaenyra, you three girls will soon be in this bed and you must learn to face it with a stiff lip."

For Rhaenyra and Alicent an arranged marriage to a great house is a certainty, for me it is an impossibility. "I think my father would sooner send any suitor to the sword than have me wed."

She chuckles. "That is true." She looks past me to Rhaenyra and Alicent and says "Now you girls go and have fun, I have no doubt there is much to catch up on."

The three of us walk arm in arm through the Red Keep, the two of them asking eagerly of tales from across the narrow sea which I give vividly. When Rhaenyra is called away to serve as her fathers cupbearer on the council, I take Alicent to the dragon pit.

Come," I say, holding her hand. "Come see how Darkfyre's grown."

Darkfyre, named to honour my fathers sword Darksister. The keepers are still coaxing her into the pit since it's been so long since she's been in captivity.

"Lykiri," I tell her, since the keepers struggle to tame her. Alicent stands behind me as I put a hand on her black scales to ease her. "Lykiri."

"She's larger than Syrax," Alicent comments in surprise. "Far larger."

"Keeping them captive in the dragon pit is hindering their growth," I tell her. "Since travelling around Dorne and the free cities with father she's been free to grow."

"It's been so long since a Targaryen's stepped foot in Dorne," she says, knowing her histories. "What was your father doing there?"

"Well, he decided to go remind the Dornish we have dragons," I put it simply. "Parading himself trying to gather favour. We were guests of the prince of the Dorne for a while, it truly is beautiful in Sunspear."

"I can imagine," she says. "So what's brought your father back?"

"Gods know, he's likely grown bored and has decided to give his brother and your father hell again."

We're both able to laugh despite how our fathers despise one another. While my father is content to burn his bridges, I don't have that luxury. As a bastard my standing is fragile enough, I need all the friends at court I can have.

"I'm glad to be back," I tell her. "I've missed home. As much as I love my father I have no desire to spend my time in Dornish brothels as he does."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then what is it you desire?"

"To be the greatest dragon rider there is," I tell her, flashing a smile as I take her hand, coaxing her towards Darkfyre. "Here, don't be afraid."

She's too stunned to refuse as I bring her hand to Darkfyre and she gasps at the touch. "I've never-"

"Touched a dragon?" I finish, knowing how she's always refused to. "See, there's no reason to fear them. They're loyal to their riders."

"Except I'm not her rider."

"Yet," I tease, knowing she's large enough to saddle two. "My father took me up on Caraxes when I was just a week old, as his mother did with him."

"My father would kill me if I even considered it."

That makes me smile. "It would be a bit hard for him to kill you if you were on dragonback."

She shakes her head, smiling. "You have not changed a bit."

The three of us lay beneath the Weirwood tree in the garden. Alicent testing me on my studies which have been truly neglected this past year, except I've gained a knowledge that is truly invaluable. Experience. Seeing the places we read of, being part of their living history instead of flipping through books.

"It doesn't matter what lord married what lady fifty years ago," I lecture. "What matters is the state of everything today, and unless it's Valyrian history what's the point?"

Rhaenyra laughs. "Did Daemon tell you that?"

"Well it's true," I say, him being my sole educator for the past year. "Across the narrow sea no one asks what lord married what lady fifty years ago, they want to hear of the dragons and the conqueror."

"Now that is something I can agree with," Rhaenyra says much to Alicent's annoyance, who's trying to get us up to scratch for the septa.

"The Septa will be furious if you two insist on jesting."

"The Septa's funny when she's furious."

I laugh but Alicent senses something deeper. "You're always like this when you're worried."

"Like what?"

"Disagreeable."

There's something in the look the two share that makes my heart sink a little, that in my absence the two have become closer. It was always the three of us, and now it is them with me there as well.

"You're worried your father is about to overshadow you with a son."

"I only worry for my mother," Rhaenyra says, a sentiment I share.

"She'll be alright," I try to assure her. "She's done this many times."

"And yet I'm the only one that lives."

Her reply is morbid enough to make Alicent quiet.

"Yes, but if you're mother has endured childbirth this many times over the odds are in her favour," I say, trying to put it logically. "Trust in the maesters."

I look to Alicent, who lost her own mother whilst I was in the free cities, and silently reach for her hand. It seems more has changed in my absence than I thought.

That night my father requests I come with him to Fleabottom to witness his new force of Gold Cloaks. I stand by his side as he gives his speech to his men, listening as the men howl and the violence begins.

It's pure butchery unlike anything I've ever seen, but father watches me so I keep my horror buried deep, not letting it show. I don't understand the reason for me being hear until he puts Darksister in my hand and the goldcloaks bring forth a bloodied man.

"Now, you may have returned to the keep but I cannot allow you to get soft," he says as I stare numbly at the sight. "You must not be afraid of blood nor a blade, for one day it could be the only thing standing between you and death." The man writhes, begging for mercy. "This blade will be yours one day, Darksister, blade of Visenya. I intend to make you worthy of it."

And so I raise the blade and spill my first blood.

Alicent is with me the next morning, helping me alter a dress for the tournament since my bust has come in this past year and the clothes I left here in the keep are ill fitting as a result.

"You're tired," she notices, and from the way her nose turns up I know she can smell Fleabottom on me. "Your father took you into the city?"

"Yes, he wanted me to be there as he showcased his Goldcloaks," I tell her, choosing not to elaborate much further. "An eventful night of the kings justice being showcased." But as I reach out to help her the red staining my hand matches the dress.

She's silent as she looks at me, knowing very well what I'm not telling her.

"It-" there's no point excusing it. "My father does not want me getting soft."

"So he has you spill blood in the city streets?"

There's a protective bite to her voice.

"He believes I should know how to handle a blade," I argue. "If I was a man you would see no issue with it."

"Well your father lets you behave as one," she mutters under her breath, going to push my hand aside but her eyes fall to the floor as I see the red of her nails, an old habit worsened.

"It seems my father isn't the only one with expectations," I say, knowing very well the words of me behaving as a man are from her fathers mouth, but that's not what I'm concerned about. "How long Alicent?"

She quickly hides her nails from me. "It's nothing."

I look at her and see a truly sad girl, as if it's so inherent it's as much a part of her as her own heart. "You do not need to lie to me for fear of shame, it's me." She always tries so hard to please her father, to be the good and chaste influence on Rhaenyra. But she needs not be anyone else for me. "How long?"

"It- it's always been a bad habit, but I'll admit the past months it's gotten worse," she tells me shyly. "I just get so nervous-"

I hold her hands gently, looking down at them, at something she is so ashamed of. "You may be the most beautiful girl in Kings Landing and have a reputation to keep, but you are allowed to not have to seem so perfect."

My point is lost on her, for she stammers "Do you truly mean that?"

I just laugh at her naivety. "Well, I cannot speak for men but I can say with certainty after travelling the free cities you are still the most beautiful girl I've seen." She's at a loss for words and I smile. "Come now, show me your dress for the tournament."

Alicent and I sit side by side at the tournament, Rhaenyra deciding to be fashionably late. It's a beautiful day, yet an anxious one as Aemma has begun her labors. We sit at the front with Princess Rhaenys' children Laena and Laenor. I'm showing Laena a golden ring from Lys when Rhaenyra joins us, sitting on the other side of Alicent.

"Has it started yet?" Rhaenyra asks, flaunting some jewellery of her own that intrigues Laena.

"What metal is that?" she asks, not recognising it and I can't blame her, for I doubt the child has ever seen anything like it.

"Valyrian steel," Rhaenyra replies with a smile as she touches her necklace. "Daemon gifted it to me."

Now that surprises me and I can't help but exclaim "He did?"

"Yes," she says with that coy tone she uses. "When you returned to the city."

My father never mentioned it to me, he surely did waste no gold in acquiring all sorts of Valyrian artefacts, he had spent weeks seeking a Valyrian steel dagger for my nameday, yet he never once mentioned a gift like this for Rhaenyra.

Alicent much catch the confusion in my eye for she tilts her head at me, but just as quickly as she goes to inquire the events begin. Rhaenyra gleefully watches the lancing but I sit there in contemplation. Rhaenyra is his niece yes, but such a gift is strange, even for my father.

Finally he is announced.

"Prince Daemon, Prince of the City!"

He rides past in his armor, and I look to Rhaenyra, who is practically blushing, it's then it dawns on me the affection she has for my father. An innocent fancy perhaps, but not one I expected my father to encourage with gifts.

Except of course he would.

I watch as he taunts the line of knights for his choosing, until finally he makes his choice. Alicent's brother.

"For his first challenge Prince Daemon chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King."

Alicent immediately becomes anxious beside me and I reach for her hand, our fingers laced together hidden between the folds of our dresses. She is afraid and rightly so, for we both know it will be my father that wins, and will likely do so taking any chance he can to spite Otto Hightower. Sure enough I watch him look up at Otto before charging.

I'm cringing as my father upon taking a hit decides to play dirty, using his lance to take down the horse and Alicent gasps loudly as her brother is thrown to the ground. I hold her hand tight as she peers over, trying to see if he's alright all while I just shake my head at my father who smirks proudly as he rides over.

While I'm focused on Alicent it's Rhaenyra who gets up to greet my father, something else that rubs me the wrong way, something Alicent notices as we follow.

"Nicely done uncle," Rhaenyra praises.

"Thank you princess."

"Is being underhanded the only way you can win?" I taunt my father, not as impressed as Rhaenyra is.

"No but it's more entertaining," he replies, looking around at the crowd and decides to aggravate Otto further. "Now I'm fairly sure I can win these games Lady Alicent, your favour would all but assure it."

I purse my lips unimpressed as Alicent goes to get her favour while Rhaenyra holds my fathers eye, the tension between them almost making me sick.

"Good luck, my prince," Alicent says placing her favour on his lance, uncomfortable beside me for only a moment before wearing a pleasant smile, and the tournament continues.

It's bloody and beautiful, pageantry alongside brutality. Whilst Alicent watches on in horror, and Rhaenyra lets out a gasp or two I watch on nubmly after having experienced the pure butchery at my fathers hands down in Fleabottom.

In the midst of it I notice Alicent, her eyes fixed on the violence whilst picking at her nails and I take her hands in mine, she almost jumps at the touch, having been pulled out of her daze and I just squeeze her hands, no more needing to be said as we watch on.

My attention is caught by the knight Ser Criston Cole going against my father. A handsome man from what we've seen, secretly I hope he puts my father in his place, and he does. Although I can't help the shriek that escapes me as my fathers horse drags him along the railing, the sound awful as he hits the ground and this time it's Alicent gripping my hand tight.

A man goes to help my father to his feet only to be pushed to the ground, and I run to the balcony's edge as my father gets to his feet, almost maddened with the shame of being dishorsed. I watch wide eyed as he calls for his sword and Alicent and Rhaenyra both jump up and come to my side.

"Prince Daemon wishes to continue in a contest of arms!"

I look behind me for the king but he's nowhere to be seen, no one to stop this madness if it gets out of hand, which it no doubt will. Ser Criston faces my fathers sword with a mace and chain, breathing through fathers shield, the fight becomes hands on, more kicking and shoving than anything else until Ser Criston is on the ground and my father looks up at me, smiling and cheering as he claims victory. Only to have made the mistake of turning his back on his opponent, for he's knocked to the ground and he does something that surprises me. He yields. Not out of weakness, but almost, almost, out of something resembling respect for a good fight.

It's then Ser Criston comes forward removing his helmet, the three of us share an exchange of pleasant surprise at the sight of him.

"Gods, he's Dornish," I hear Alicent exclaim while I can't help but appreciate the sight in front of us.

"I was hoping to ask for the favour of Lady Viserra," he says, not Rhaenyra's, but mine. "The daughter of the Prince."

Doing the same as my father, asking for the favour of his opponent's daughter. I can respect him for that. And so I'm smiling as I reach for my favour, my father watching on in amusement as I toss it down to Ser Criston. "Good fight Ser Criston, I wish you luck."

Rhaenyra can make eyes at my father all she likes, I'll give the Dornish knight my favour. But it's then I notice Otto Hightower returning and murmuring something to one of the council members. Alarm quickly spreads behind us, something Rhaenyra notices and I know it can only be one thing.

"Alicent," I say and she goes to her father who pulls her aside murmuring something to her, she looks back at us and there is no mistaking it.

The queen is dead.

"Rhaenyra," I immediately breathe, reaching for her, she's too shocked to cry but even so I take her in my arms, looking over her shoulder at Alicent in mutual horror. The two motherless girls have become three.

We sit together in Rhaenyra's room, Alicent and I sitting on the edge of her bed as she lies away from us, eyes wide open yet dead to the world.

"Baelor your father has named the boy," I tell her, treading gently. "Would you like to see him?"

She doesn't reply. Neither her or Viserys have seen the boy, he's in the care of wet nurses. I lost my mother the day I was born, I feel no pain for her, the pain I feel is for Aemma, the only mother I've ever had.

"We'll let you sleep," Alicent says gently, and we leave the room having done what we can for her, but she must mourn, there is no easy way to do so. When we're outside she asks me "Are you alright?"

I force myself to nod. "I loved the queen as my own mother, but it is Rhaenyra I worry for."

She nods in understanding, and reaches for me. "We have all lost a mother now. The pain... it does get easier."

I see the pain in her eyes, the loss of her own mother wounding her still, especially now. Silently I take her in my arms, needing someone to hold onto. In her embrace I feel safe enough to finally let the tears escape.

We stand there like that in silence until a guard comes.

"Lady Alicent, the hand has summoned you."

"Go," I tell her gently. "I'll be alright."

She nods, and is escorted by the guard to her fathers office.

In my loneliness I find myself walking to my fathers chambers, he will not be mourning, but I need him nonetheless. I need my father to hold me and tell me he understands, that it will be okay. He has never been affectionate in that manner, but he's always been there when I've needed him.

Yet when I come to his chambers he isn't there.

And so in the shadow of mourning over the keep I find myself coming to the barracks of the Goldcloaks.

"My Lady," Ser Harwin says, recognising me. "Are you looking for the prince?" I nod meekly, like a child seeking out their parent after a bad dream. "He has taken to the Street of Silk."

"To the brothels," I correct, saying what we both know. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Would you like me to get him for you?" he offers and I shake my head, swallowing my bitterness.

"He is mourning in his own way."

Alicent and I stand side by side at the funeral, the babe having passed in the night after his birth.

My father stands separate from us, his eyes on Rhaenyra, as they should be since she has lost her mother, but I cannot forget the necklace, cannot forget the unspoken tension between them.

But today is not the day for that. Today we mourn.

Again after the funeral I seek out my father to find him missing, this time I don't bother searching for him, able to hear the ruckus of the Goldcloaks ascending on the Street of Silk.

So instead I go to Rhaenyra who stares numbly at a candle flame in her room, tears staining her cheeks.

"Come," I say, extending my hand to her. "Syrax and Darkfyre have not flown together in so long."

A shadow of a smile comes to her face as she nods and takes my hand, and together we find our way to the Dragonpit.

When we return the next morning with tired eyes and reeking of dragon as Aemma would say, I'm surprised to find Alicent waiting for me in my chambers.

Yet I'm more alarmed at her demeanour.

"Are you alright?" I ask, immediately jumping to the most likely reason. "Did you have a fight with your father?"

"Viserra," she says quietly, her voice a whisper. "There is something... I- I cannot confide it in anyone."

I look at her confused. "What of Rhaenyra?"

"Especially not Rhaenyra."

That's when my stomach drops at the guilt in her eyes, and so I reach out to take her hand with a promise "I'm not Rhaenyra."

When she looks back at me her brown eyes are filled with tears. "Promise me, promise you won't tell a soul."

I'd never considered myself to be one to take oaths seriously, but in this moment I know I'll take whatever she says to the grave. "I swear it."

And somehow, despite who my father is, despite who I am, she trusts me.

"My father," she begins, voice weak. "He- he asked me to comfort the king."

A sentence that would sound so innocent if I did not know her, did not know her father. "Alicent-"

"I never touched him," she immediately insists, trying to defend herself even though there is nothing to defend. "I just read to him, I swear it, I would never-"

"Shhh," I say, pulling her in tight by her hands, trying to calm her. "I know, it is not me you need to defend yourself to."

That's when she breaks down "If Rhaenyra knew..."

She does not need to finish that sentence, for we both know well how she would react. She is rash, quick to temper, more my fathers daughter than I at times, she would take it as a betrayal and not let it go regardless of the truth.

"She doesn't need to know," I say, going against whatever morals Aemma tried to instil in me, honesty and integrity be damned. They are never things my father taught me. "Your father sent you to him, to his chambers?" She nods, not meeting my eye. "Nothing more happened, I believe that. You are not a seductress nor a mistress. You are a girl whose father is an ambitious man, this is his scheme not yours."

Her eyes are wide, afraid. "She won't believe that."

"But I do," I say, only then becoming aware of how close we are, and I take her face in my hands. "Our fathers despise one another for good reasons, my father is reckless and murderous and yours is calculating and starving for power, they are the second sons and always will be despite their best wishes. We do not need to be the pawns in their schemes."

She blinks at me confused. "Your father loves you, when has he ever used you?"

He hasn't. "You're right. My father merely wishes to rise me to his station, to Rhaenyra's, all he's done is try to make me a true Targaryen out of love. Your's would raise you to something far more dangerous, to be queen to further his own ambition."

She knows it, somewhere she must, but she sees little wrong. "What else is the purpose of a daughter?"

My heart breaks a little, breaks in realisation that my father may be the only one in Westeros who would never dream of marrying me off for his own standing, who would burn a man's city down before giving me as a bride. Then there's Otto Hightower.

It's then the door opens and there stands the bastard himself, the look on his face confuses me until I realise how he has caught us, in an embrace that would have me castrated if I was a man.

Alicent quickly drops my hands, lowering her head as her father enters and I stand there defiant at the man who would have his daughter, not even yet five and ten, a mistress for the king.

"Lord Hand," I say stiffly. "Is something the matter?"

If I was a man there certainly would be, but I am a girl, a girl found in an embrace with her companion. There is nothing wrong with it that he can justifiably make a fuss of.

But he seems not to mind, for there is already a smirk on his face. "Your father has been exiled."

I feel Alicents head whip around to me and I stand there, my blood turning cold as she grabs my arm and asks her father "What for?"

In Otto Hightower's eyes is the gleam of victory over my father, over me. He's basking in it.

"The heir for a day."

My head snaps up at those words, having heard my father remark them offhandedly after the funeral. "Where is the king?"

"You are not permitted to see him," he replies. "I have come to instruct you to pack your things, you may join your father or we can arrange for you to be taken to your stepmother in the Vale."

Alicent looks at her father in disbelief. "You can't mean-"

"I'm to be exiled as well?" I scoff, letting go of Alicent to confront her father. "Is this the king's order or yours?"

He pauses for just a moment too long and I'm pushing past him.

"Lady Viserra!"

I ignore him, running through the halls and attracting the attention of the Kingsguard who follow at the behest of Otto, yelling out orders from behind me, but it all stops the moment I enter the throne room and find Viserys sitting upon the throne.

"Uncle!" I cry out and he looks upon me in concern, out of breath and desperate as I come to my knees before the throne. "Uncle please, don't do this."

He sighs. "Viserra, if you are here to plead on behalf of your father-"

"What he said was regrettable, but exile?"

"It was not a decision I made lightly," he tries to reason. "I know you love your father, but you and I know better than any what sort of man he is."

"One who loves his brother and his king!" I argue getting to my feet as I hear Otto and the rest storming the throne room and even Viserys is alarmed by the sight. "Unlike this cunt here, who's revelling in getting rid of my father and I both!"

The throne room is silent until Viserys speaks. "Otto, did you tell the princess she is to be exiled along with Daemon?"

"She is no princess," he replies now my father is not here to take his tongue. "She is a bastard just as heinous as her father who will corrupt your daughter and mine both. Look at her now, causing a scene after I simply asked her to stay with her stepmother in the Vale."

Before Viserys can speak I turn to look at him, my voice as dangerous as my fathers. "If he were here he'd take your tongue." It's only then I see Alicent in the shadows watching on and something in my voice changes. "But I suppose that's the curse of second sons isn't it? To always be scraping at whatever scraps of power they can get? Even if it is throwing the daughter of your rival out of her own home behind the back of your king."

Viserys stands, voice as harsh as I've ever heard it. "I have lost my wife, I have lost my son, and now my brother. You would have my niece removed from this keep without my knowing? Have her taken from Rhaenyra's side as she is in mourning? All for the spite you bear her father!"

Otto is silent, having been put in his place by his king and a girl of four and ten.

Viserys must see Alicent in the shadows for he asks her "Lady Alicent, escort my niece back to her chambers."

I can almost feel Otto's blood boiling at his daughter being asked to wait on a bastard, but she doesn't see it that way, for she steps out of the shadows to take my arm.

"Thank you uncle," I say, leaving him and Otto to their devices. "But may I see my father off?"

A risky request, but he permits it. "Of course Viserra."

And so I find my father readying Caraxes at the dragon pit with a whore at his side.

"Father."

He turns to me, unsurprised to see me. "Good you're here, I've had the dragon keepers ready Darkfyre."

I just shake my head in disgust. "The heir for a day."

He sighs. "Yes I'll admit, it was distasteful, but it's said and done now. We're leaving for Dragonstone."

Something in the casualness of his voice makes something snap inside me. "And you never thought to come and get your daughter when you were being exiled?"

He merely shrugs. "I knew you'd find me."

"Except it was Otto Hightower who found me!" I yell and that gets his attention as he finally turns to look at me properly. "Is that how you wanted me to find out, him coming to my chambers revelling as he tells me we've both been exiled."

That's when it hits him. "If my brother-"

"Viserys was the one who fought for me, who stood up for me when Otto tried to have me exiled without his knowledge," I argue and scoff "While I had to defend myself against Otto Hightower in the throne room you were getting your whore and leaving me to the rats!"

The whore looks away as my father comes up to me, using a tone he rarely does. "Have you ever thought that my treatment of you is not neglect but rather faith? Faith that you don't need to be babied and managed like a child but instead treating you as you are, a dragon rider."

But I just look up at him, almost laughing with anger. "He called me a bastard, used it as justification to be rid of me. That I'm as heinous as you."

The look in his eye changes and his hand is on his sword. "If I was there-"

"You would have taken his tongue?" I finish. "Except you weren't. You were off with your whore, just like you were when you should have been with your brother mourning."

"It wasn't my wife who died, if it was I would have rented out the entire street to celebrate instead of three brothels."

I look at her, deciding to hit him where it hurts. "Try not to father another bastard seeing as you're content to damn the one you already have to a life of exile for a joke and a whore."

He grabs me, fingers bruising my arm, I try to pull it free but he doesn't let go. "Everything I have ever done is for you, and you fucking know it. If you want to be cruel so can I." I hold his eye, defiant. "I could be like Otto Hightower and sell you off the first chance that comes by, I could discard you, I could sell you to the brothels like bastard girls are. But here you are, a dragonrider and a Targaryen by name. The only reason that is, is because of me."

Despite the anger in his voice I see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing the last person he has, the one who should love him unconditionally despite his sins.

"I'm staying here in Kings Landing," I say quietly, the cruellest words I could say at this very moment. He stares at me in disbelief, expecting me to follow it up with some type of contradiction, but I don't, and it's then he lets me go. "Did you ever realise Aemma was the closest thing I ever had to a mother?" He's silent, not realising I was mourning her also. "I needed you, and you ran off to the brothel to mourn the fact you had been disinherited. It would have only been for a day as you'd put so vocally if not for your own selfish desire to usurp what is Rhaenyra's."

I hit him where it hurts without realising it. "Do you think it was selfish wanting you to be my heir?"

"It was never about me, only you," I say with sorrow. "You know damn well a bastard would never stand to inherit the Iron Throne, and yet you would take it regardless of the crisis that would follow."

"I would," he says, without taking a moment to hesitate. "I would-"

"Have your niece?" I retort and for the first time I've caught him off guard. "I'm not blind, just disgusted." I look to his whore. "Don't be surprised if he tosses you aside for someone blonder and younger since he seems to desire girls who are barely bleeders."

He scoffs. "You make me sound horrible, this has nothing to do with desire."

"So you seduce your niece for the throne," I realise. "Because how could you ever truly be disinherited with her by your side?"

He ignores me, instead justifying it. "I have raised the greatest dragonrider there is, raised a true Valyrian, and yet despite you having every symbol of legitimacy you are still denied, no one would dare utter the word bastard if I stood to inherit the throne."

I see his delusion so clearly, even if it is spurned by love rather than ambition, it is still delusion.

"I have come to terms with what I am, now you must also."

With those words I turn my back on my father, my face does not betray how my heart cries but Darkfyre does. Her cries echoing as I return to the Red Keep.

When I make it back to my chambers it is not Rhaenyra or Viserys who stand there to offer comfort, but Alicent.

"I'm sorry," she says, but I have no more words left, instead walking into her embrace and holding her tight. Both of us bound now as the motherless daughters of second sons maddened by their own wants and ambitions.

Yet somehow the prospect is easier knowing I am not alone.

Days later we stand side by side as Rhaenyra is sworn as heir to the Iron Throne. My father has seized Dragonstone, a seat that should be her's now by right. He's gone while I remain.

And so I make the decision that will enrage my father, but one that is right.

"Lady Viserra Targaryen, daughter of Daemon Targaryen."

I step forward and kneel before Rhaenyra as I make my oath to her.

"I, Viserra Targaryen, swear to be faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit." I look up, knowing my oath is the one that has gathered the most attention of all in this room, a daughter betraying her father. "I swear this by the old gods and the new."

I stand and look Rhaenyra in the eye, my friend, my sister in all but name, and pray I have made the right decision.

Taglist:

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zae5 · 6 months

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Black and Red dresses

#house of the dragon #royal gifts #fits #house targaryen #targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #baela targaryen #baela and rhaena #rhaena targaryen #hotdedit #targaryen queen aesthetic #targaryen oc

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sylasthegrim · 1 year

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The Silver Princess - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cregan Stark x original female character (Targaryen OC)

Tags: arranged marriage, romance, romantic and sexual tension

Word count: 4,170 words

In the hope of maintaining a united realm, King Viserys arranged the marriage of Cregan Stark with the Princess Rowena, daughter of Prince Daemon and Lady Rhea Royce.

MASTERLIST

The Silver Princess

CHAPTER 1 - ARRIVAL TO WINTERFELL

Laena's funeral had been a tense ceremony, one Rowena felt she did not belong in. She stood behind her sisters, feeling like she had no right to shed tears for Laena, as all they had been were distant cousins. Everybody offered their condolences to Daemon, who looked like his mind was already thousands of miles away, on the back of Caraxes, and to Lord Corlys and Lady Rhaenys, to whom Baela and Rhaena clung like a lifeline.

The twin girls alternated between clinging to her and to Rowena, and every time she and Rhaenys switched holding the girls, the woman would throw her a kind, grief-stricken look.

Everybody but her seemed to have forgotten that Laena had raised her for the past decade, and had been the one to take her hand and help her take the step from girlhood to womanhood. She had been the one comforting Rowena when her blood had come, teaching her what it meant to be a woman, a lady, in this world.

She had taught her to ride a dragon, and had been a mother to her as much as she could be. She had accepted Rowena never treating her more than a cousin, keeping her distance when she would have otherwise stepped into Lady Rhea's territory. She had loved Rowena unconditionally, uncaring if that love was returned with the same intensity. She had been kind and selfless, brave and undaunted, and a free spirit to the very end.

Once the funeral had passed, the parting words had been said, all tears had been shed and Vhagar had been claimed, Rowena followed her father and the Princess Rhaenyra to Dragonstone. She spent her days haunting the beaches like a ghost, hoping to catch a breeze carrying a scent that would give her a sign that Laena was still a part of their world, if only in spirit. But the wind only carried the smell of salt, the earthy scent of sand, and smoke from the Dragonmont.

Rowena could only wait for her fate, which came in the form of a letter by the King a fortnight later, instructing her to go north and marry the Warden of the North.

After saying her last goodbyes to Laena on the beach of Dragonstone, whispering last words that got taken by the wind and away to the sea, Rowena parted ways with her father and flew to Runestone to meet with House Royce, who was to escort her to Winterfell.

None of it felt real, yet it didn't have the weightless qualities of dreams either. Rowena wondered for a few days if she wasn't hovering in a strange stage between consciousness and unconsciousness, in a window untouched by time that the gods had opened for her and were keeping her trapped in. Yet as Runestone, its heavy stones and endless fields appeared, the familiar feeling she got, down to her bones, proved to her that it was all real. The Gods had been cruel, first taking her step-mother and her child, then putting in the King's heart the desire to make an alliance between his House and House Stark. The only comfort Rowena could find was that Laena had died a dragonrider's death, like had been her will, and that despite her life being cut short, a part of her would live on in her daughters.

The journey was tense and contemplative. Rowena had never been further north than the Eyrie, and even though winter was coming to an end in Westeros, the farther north they went, the colder the air became. The grounds were frozen and a thin coat of snow was still falling. Above them, the great gray and purple dragon was flying, singing a sad and high-pitched song as they approached the snowy stronghold.

“There is still time to change your mind, Rowena,” Gerold said as Winterfell came into view in the distance. “I have a good rapport with both the King and the Hand.”

“What is that supposed to mean, cousin?” she barked more than she inquired, taking her horse a few steps ahead of him.

“If you preferred to remain in Runestone, where you rightfully belong, it could be arranged.”

Rowena scoffed. “I suppose this generous offer comes with the same price as the first time?”

“Does the idea repel you so?” he asked, sounding mildly offended. “You belong in Runestone, as Lady Royce.”

Rowena could not lie, the title appealed to her. It had been her mother's title and by all means should have been her heritage. But she had been born a girl with the Rogue Prince as father, and therefore bore the name Targaryen rather than Royce. All of her was a reminder of it, from her appearance to the wild flame at her core, the one she often felt blazing whenever she was upset. That temper her mother had done her best to tame by educating her in all matters that defined House Royce.

Now she supposed her name did not matter, soon she would be known as Lady Stark, and her children would bear that same name.

Pushing a pile of ash around with the toe of his boot, mug of warm ale in hand, Cregan was listening absently to the afternoon's council. He was usually more invested than this, ruling his estate with what he hoped to be an iron fist. The respect he got was still lukewarm in some parts of the North, as some Lords did not take too well to being ruled over by a young man, and had more affinity with his uncle, Lord Bennard. Therefore the man's council was precious to him, even if he sometimes needed a reminder that he only had been regent, and that there was only one Lord of Winterfell.

"A raven came from the Citadel this morning," Bennard announced, his booming voice echoing in the Great Hall. "Spring is upon us, but it won't be a few months until the frost completely melts from the ground."

"Do we have enough straw for the cattle until the fields unfreeze?" Maester Walys asked, as calm and collected as Bennard was brash and arrogant. The old man had been a trusted councilor since Lord Rickon Stark had passed, and he always appreciated his wise advice and prudent nature.

"We might need to ration as we sent a shipment to Raventree Hall a fortnight ago."

"Perhaps we shall send a raven to the Eyrie. With the upcoming wedding, the Arryns won't refuse us assistance if needed," Walys advised, and Cregan nodded absently. He wasn't entirely sure he had followed the conversation, but trusted the Maester enough not to lead him astray.

"Speaking of the wedding," Bennard started, laying back in his chair and putting his feet up on the corner of the table, making Maester Walys raise one of his bushy brows. Yet before he could develop, a young boy with a bright mop of red curls came running into the hall, an elated look on his face. "M'Lord, they're here! The party escorting the Princess is just down the road!"

Putting the letter he was holding back on the table, Cregan turned to the boy. "Thank you, Mycah. Gather everyone in the courtyard."

"Yes, M'Lord!" Mycah bowed low, spreading his arms wide in a mockery of a courtly bow. Cregan chuckled as the boy ran out excitedly, the crease between his eyebrows easing slightly. Bennard rose, regarding him with a strange look on his face. He had surely noticed his nephew had been distracted of late, and had been all the more happy taking the reins on a few matters.

"This is a better match than you could have hoped," he said once again, repeating what he had already told Cregan a dozen times in the last month. "The Targaryens are powerful. This is your first step into the capital, into the King's affairs."

"I have no wish to step into the King's affairs, uncle," Cregan replied curtly.

"No matter your wishes, you need to keep an eye beyond the borders of the North. The King's health is declining, and soon there will be a scrabble for power."

"We have enough to worry as it is with winter."

"What the young Lord means, Lord Bennard, is that it does not matter which Targaryen sits on the throne, as long as there is a Stark in Winterfell," Maester Walys said, rising as well. Cregan may only have been twenty of age, and more versed in the ruling of an estate than politics, but he could see this answer brought no satisfaction to his uncle.

"If the affairs of the King worry you so much, why don't you go to King's Landing and offer your services, uncle?" Cregan asked, and it could almost have been interpreted as a dismissal.

"My place is in Winterfell, Cregan," his uncle answered, then, almost as a second thought, added, "At your side."

Cregan did not answer, instead strapped his coat of wolf furs across his chest and headed for the main courtyard. As instructed, people were starting to gather in a rough semicircle to welcome the Royce party escorting the Targaryen princess. Sara came out of the armory and stood to the side at first, leaving the area beside Cregan for Bennard and his eldest son, but her brother called her over with a simple sign of his hand. Sara nodded once in deference and stepped beside him, ignoring the hard look Bennard was giving her. Maester Walys stepped aside with a warm smile on his face, making it all the more obvious Cregan and Sara stood together.

The sound of great wings flapping in the wind was heard, and the crowd gasped as a great gray and purple dragon flew over Winterfell. It almost looked like a ghost, lost in the fog as it was, a distant high-pitched roar echoing in the valley. For a second Cregan wondered if the dragon was meant to land in the courtyard, but it simply flew over the fortress, only to disappear in the thick fog.

A few seconds later, a party carrying the Royce banners entered the courtyard, and then two men came in carrying the Targaryen banner. Three horses were following them at a slow pace, two men escorting a woman. One of them was a King's Guard while the other bore the Royce colors and sigil, and Cregan recognized him as Lord Gerold. Between them, atop a great black horse, a young woman advanced until she stood between the two Targaryen banners. Her head was partially covered by a veil, but the front of her hair was visible enough to make its color undisputable.

It was Princess Rowena.

The young woman dismounted before anyone could offer her assistance, looking around until her gaze settled on Cregan.

Rowena released the breath she had been holding as a young man she could only guess to be Lord Cregan Stark approached, looking stern and serious. The description she had had of him seemed to be accurate, and she was relieved at the comely sight he made. He was a tall man, with a broad stature hidden under layers of thick leathers and wolf pelts. His face was young, with stormy eyes and long dark hair pulled away from his face ; the sides of his head were shaved, thin braids tied close to his skull on each side.

As her first relieved breath left her, her chest filled with apprehension again. He looked austere, and even though he was not unpleasant to look upon, she could find no familiarity in him. He was a stranger, in all senses of the term, and one she was supposed to bind herself to and bear children for. A sudden flicker of doubt appeared at the back of her mind, just as Gerold spoke again. “My offer still stands, Rowena.”

Rowena turned to look at her cousin over her shoulder, her heart beating wildly. Runestone was just a step away, in her cousin's extended hand, and if she took a guess based on the expression on Lord Cregan's face, a part of her believed that the young man wouldn't firmly oppose her stepping out of their betrothal. She thought back to her mother, to her teachings and her spirit, hoping to find guidance there.

Without another word for her cousin she turned to Lord Stark once again, taking a few steps forward and curtsying, keeping her eyes on him all the way. “Lord Cregan, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

The young man did not show any reaction at the lack of a smile on her face or the flat tone of her voice. He remained steady and proud, bowing his head to her quickly and curtly. “Princess Rowena, welcome to Winterfell,” he recited, his voice deep and warm as their eyes remained fixed on each other, gray meeting gray. “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

Cregan held onto his composure as best he could as he was pulled into her eyes, two pools of gray like great winter lakes.

Oh, she was lovely. She had that eerie feeling about her person — like most Targaryen had, he had been told. Her hair was as white as the snow around them, the almost imperceptible flakes that were falling around them blending with her locks as they fell on her head. She looked cold and slightly disoriented, looking around her with a sharp, clear gaze, yet there was pride in the way she held herself. Frost clinging to her lashes and red tainting her cheeks, she stood out among the party that was escorting her and the people that had gathered in the courtyard to welcome her.

Sara stepped up to them, curtsying to the Princess. Grateful for the silent support, Cregan turned to his own party, "May I present you my sister, Lady Sara. My uncle Lord Bennard and his son Benjen."

The Princess curtsied to them, not going as low as she had in front of Cregan, keeping her face impassible.

"Why don't we get you out of the cold?" Sara offered.

"My sister will show you to your chambers, Princess," Cregan added, and she nodded without a word. As Sara took her inside, Cregan turned to Lord Gerold who had observed the scene with a mixture of disdain and amusement etched on his face. Leaving Lord Cregan to deal with her cousin, Rowena followed Lady Sara into the castle and up arduous stone stairs. It was warmer inside, and it felt good to be out of the cold and cutting wind.

“Forgive my brother's lack of courtly manners. Rest assured that he makes up for in devotion, once you get to know him,” Lady Sara said with a smile as she gestured Rowena into a bed chamber.

“I’m sure,” the Princess replied curtly. Sara could tell she was not convinced.

Stepping through an arched door, Rowena entered her new room. It was sparse for the time being, but comfortable, she had to admit. The hearth was blazing strong and hot, heating the stone floors underneath her feet. Across from the fire stood a large bed covered with animal pelts, a wooden trunk sitting at its foot. An imposing dresser stood against the exterior wall, under a large window that overlooked a small courtyard. Numerous candles kept the room inviting and brighter than the hallway.

A young girl with rich brown hair came into the room, carrying a tray that she deposited on a table in the opposite corner, just as a young boy pushed Rowena's trunk into the room. Without a word, he bowed and left as quickly as he had come in. “I suppose you will want to rest after your journey, Princess,” Sara guessed.

“Yes, please.”

"Do you require anything, Princess?" the serving girl asked as Rowena took stock of what was on the tray. She was pleasantly surprised at the thoughtful gesture, as there was a mug of steaming goat milk, along with dried fruit and cheese.

"No, thank you," she replied, and both the serving girl and Sara left her without another word, the ensuing silence a welcoming place for Rowena's raging thoughts.

When someone came knocking an hour later, Rowena was surprised to find that it wasn’t Lord Cregan but his sister once again. She was unsettled by the fact that the young woman seemed more keen to make her feel at home than her intended. She had had the time to change from her riding clothes to a more appropriate dress, made of thick black velvet with modest silver trimmings and embroideries. She had combed her hair and redone her simple braid, adjusting the veil over it in the mirror that stood above one of the bedside tables.

“Where is Lord Cregan,” she inquired, not unkindly, as after all Lady Sara had been nothing but warm and welcoming.

“In the Great Hall. I believe he thought it best to give you some space so you could settle.”

“That is considerate.”

Rowena was surprised, but she allowed a small smile to grace her face. She was not sure she believed Lady Sara’s words to be the truth, only that she was trying her best to soothe her anxiety and shine a good light on her brother. It was an honorable effort, and she could only command the young lady for it. “I will take you to him, if that is your wish,” she offered, no doubt sensing Rowena's true emotion.

“Please, Lady Sara,” Rowena asked, and the young lady offered her arm.

She was quite tall, almost as tall as a man, with strong features that reminded Rowena of her mother’s face. Her long mane was almost black, full of rich curls and waves. She looked exactly like Rowena had expected from a northern woman, a woman of House Stark, and she had the uncomfortable thought that she was a disappointment. In Pentos, her pale complexion and white hair had been a subject of curiosity and admiration, but the looks she had gotten in the courtyard hadn't borne the same feelings. Instead she had felt like a creature being scrutinized and judged. She knew what disdain looked like, she had seen it often enough in her childhood, as her hair was a constant reminder that she was not only half-Royce but also half-Targaryen.

As they made their way down the corridor and more stone stairs, Rowena took the time to take in the atmosphere of the castle. It was warmer than she had expected, sparse but efficient, and it had a sense of home Rowena hadn't felt in years. It was not as richly furnished or decorated as the manses she had lived in in Pentos, but it reminded her of Runestone and its comforting simplicity.

Lady Sara left her at the entrance of a grand hall, and as she stepped in she instantly noticed Cregan's figure, standing in front of a large hearth.

The young man turned as she approached, and their gazes met once again. When she got close enough, she noticed with a small intake of breath that his eyes were different colors. It was made more obvious in the light of the fire than it had in the cloudy weather outside ; one was a light gray, like a stormy sky, while the other was darker with a warmer hue, a fascinating swirl of dark gray and brown. It was the most intriguing gaze she had ever seen, despite having seen the various shades of lilac and purple that her father, step-mother and half-sisters’ eyes bore. Neither her nor Cregan spoke for what felt to Rowena like a full minute, but must have been mere seconds.

"Is your room to your liking?" the young lord finally asked.

"Yes, my Lord, thank you."

“The North can feel uninviting, but I hope you will appreciate me telling you, you are most welcome,” he said with conviction, and she believed him. He had a frank gaze and still hadn't lowered his eyes, regarding her with honesty and intensity. It was refreshing, albeit bold, and Rowena welcomed it.

“I cannot begin to imagine the situation you find yourself in. I am not a man of many words, and I may not be as cultured as you would have hoped,” he continued, then marked a pause, “but I will treat you with honor and respect.”

"I appreciate your honesty,” she replied. “And your self-awareness. I admit I had not expected to be sent to Winterfell, but we must obey our king. I suppose you would have preferred a lady of the north."

"Indeed, Princess," he replied, then added after a moment of contemplative silence, both of them turning to look at the bright flames of the fire. "You would not have been my first choice.”

She did appreciate his honesty, even though hearing those words made something prickle uncomfortably behind her breastbone. “Neither would you have been," she allowed herself to say.

“I suppose you would have wanted a silver-haired prince,” he guessed.

Rowena shook her head. “Actually, I would have preferred no one.”

Cregan turned to her and met her gaze with intent. “I hope my words don’t offend you, my Lord," she said.

He frowned, but shook his head. “No, they don’t. Quite the contrary. I expect you to speak your mind, Princess. It is a welcome quality around here," he reassured her, then after another pause, added, "Since we are to be married, might you consider calling me by my name?”

Rowena was unsettled by his request and for a minute she said nothing. This first step into this stranger’s inner circle, with all that implicated, was an uncomfortable one. “If it is the same to you, I would keep calling you by your title for the time being,” she finally replied, watching as the crease between his eyebrows deepened. Yet his voice remained the same when he spoke. “Of course.”

She knew blind enthusiasm would have made her feel uncomfortable, but she did not know what to make of his guarded composure. He was not cold, but there was a reserve to him that she could not see through. There was a wariness in the way he looked at her, and she did not know what to make of that either.

The evening was only made better by Sara's warm smile and a young boy named Mycah, who had a hard time containing his excitement. Serving ale to the men during dinner, his gaze kept falling on Rowena, and she felt warmer in the face of the boy's joy.

“Since Lord Royce is to give you away, we thought it best not to retain him in the North too long," Bennard said as the sporadic conversation was slowly drifting away from the matters of the realm Lord Cregan, Lord Bennard and Gerold had been conversing about. He swallowed his mouthful of meat with a great swig of ale before continuing. "The wedding ceremony is to take place in a fortnight, so that Lord Gerold might return to his duties.”

“Of course," Rowena answered, hiding her displeasure at being hurried into this marriage behind a careful sip of wine.

“Also, this will give you time to come out of mourning and remove your veil,” Cregan said carefully, weighing in his words, but to no avail. Rowena’s fair complexion turned red, and it was not a lovely sight. She looked positively furious, a darkness spreading in her eyes, and yet she let no emotion show in her voice.

“Of course, my Lord," she repeated before pushing away from the table and rising gracefully. "I shall leave you, my Lords, my Lady, and retire to my chambers. I wish to bathe before bed.”

Princess Rowena's reaction haunted Cregan all the way through dinner, and further into the evening. Seemingly unperturbed by it, Bennard and Lord Gerold kept conversing about the realm's trade routes and other topics that mattered not to Cregan. Sara remained silent, observing him with a reproachful look in her eyes, and he knew to expect her to seek a conversation with him after supper was over. Yet all she said when she found him in the kennels, tending to his direwolves was, "you seem troubled."

"She troubled me, I admit," Cregan murmured, stroking the dark fur of the oldest wolf in the pack. "She is beautiful, I won't deny it, but she is as cold as her hair would suggest."

“She is in mourning, her step-mother just passed,” Sara said, not unkindly. “Give her time, Cregan.”

"She has no wish to be here, no wish to marry me."

"And yet she will have to. She will have to adapt to the North, to our way of life. The least you could do is take a step toward her, get to know her and her customs before you decide she is cold."

Cregan watched as the wolves curled around each other with pleased growls and sighed. "Let's hope the night will bring me council."

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