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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 2 years

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Hey! Idk if you are accepting requests but if so can you make a Aemond Targaryen x Reader basead on "Mastermind" by Taylor Swift? My idea is that Aemond starts to like the Reader and wants to marry them but he feels very insecure and wants the reader to like him too, so he starts plotting and trying to get closer so it feels organic but he actually is planning everything, then by the end he feels guiltycause he feels he tricked them into the marriage but reader always knew ?Thanks!

A GAME I COULDN’T LOSE ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! It makes me so happy to know that you requested my writing! I love this idea! He does ( lowkey ) give off this vibe <3

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Lannister! Reader

prompt: Aemond wants to be loved by Reader, but he doesn’t know someone has been pulling strings..

key: h/c = hair color, Corlys = Laena & Laenor’s father, Baela = Daemon & Laena daughter

word count: 2,000+ words

“Once upon a time, the planets and the fates..And all the stars aligned..You and I ended up in the same room, at the same time..”

The first time he had laid eyes on her, he was ten. He didn’t know much about the h/c girl, just that she was visiting Rhaena and Baela. Offering the young girls support after the loss of their Mother. Right away, he knew that she was special. She had held their hands throughout the ceremony. She whispered comforting words whenever the adult’s turned their eyes away for a split second. She purposefully ignored Aegon whenever he tried to utter a snide comment to her.

She had a glow to her, that made him stare. He should have been paying attention to the funeral. He shouldn’t have been staring, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to look away. Not when he wanted to know more about the h/c girl in black robes. She was absolutely eye-catching⎯and he was sure that if the circumstances were different, he would have made a attempt to talk to her.

“And the touch of a hand lit the fuse, of a chain reaction of countermoves..To assess the equation of you..Checkmate, I couldn't lose..”

The last time he had seen her, he was ten. His vision was blurred and the pain was unbearable. But, even through all of that he could still see her icy glare. Burning holes into him and his brother. Her hand gripped tightly on Baela’s shoulder, a wet rag in her other hand. Even though he lost an eye, he felt somewhat better knowing that she was looking at him. Sure, it was out of disgust and anger. But, it was a start.

Their eyes lock for a second, her glare deepening. A sneer now forming on her pretty face. He was sure that if it was just the two of them, she’d curse him out. And as odd as it was, he wished for it. He wanted to know her name. He wanted her to talk to him⎯even if she was damning him to hell and back. He wanted her. And he would get her one way or another.

“What happened?” Corlys questions, staring at his granddaughter in worry.

“He…” Baela stutters out, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Allow me to explain, my lord?” Y/N speaks up, rubbing Baela’s shoulder.

“Speak, child.” He nods.

Looking at Baela for confirmation to continue, the young girl nods her head, the tears in her eyes now starting to fall down her bloody cheeks. The h/c girl swallows the lump in her throat. Rubbing her thumb on her shoulder, Baela grabs at her hand, gripping onto it tightly. The pain of what had happened painted on the young girl's face.

“Aemond claimed Vhagar, he did it in security so that they would not get the chance to oppose it.” Y/N explains, “After being confronted, he insulted Luke and Jace, calling them bastards. They defended their honor.”

“You tell the truth, child?” Corlys asks, looking at her for any deceitfulness.

“I do, sir. I gain nothing from telling lies.” She whispers, keeping her eyes on him.

Aemond watches as Corlys stares her down, a serious look on his face. Those kinds of accusations were as serious as they come. If they found to be lies, she’d be punished or worse⎯killed. Turning her eyes from Corlys to him, Corlys’s eyes follow her, a death glare on his face.

“Do not let them punish the boys for his mistake.” She begs, placing her hand on Corlys’s arm.

“What if I told you none of it was accidental? And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me..I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork..The dominoes cascaded in a line..”

The next time he saw her, he was eighteen, and it may not have been so accidental. He never thought that he would see the h/c girl ever again. But, when he heard a whisper from the maids of one of the lord’s girls returning after being away for so long. He made sure to be in the area. Watching from a distance, she adorned a simple red dress, a bright smile on her face⎯much different than the last time he saw her. His heart fluttered at the sight.

Picking up her skirt slightly, she picks up her pace as she walks, approaching a man. Bowing her head at a few people, she sprints at the man, a loud laugh leaving her lips. Spinning her around in a circle, she buries her head into his shoulder, her h/c hair bouncing around. That must have been her father. Pulling away from the hug, he grabs her arm, tugging her away from everyone’s prying eyes.

“I missed you!” She gushes, “It’s been far too long.”

“Agreed, far too long. How is your brother? Meria? How is the baby?” He questions, a bright smile on his face.

“Wonderful! He’s been prancing around preaching about him having a son. Meria had to lock him in their chambers to stop him from embarrassing himself any further.” She explains, “How has the court been? The last time I was here, I was a mere child.”

“Troubled. But, I am sure things will work out in time.” He nods, patting her arm.

Nodding her head in understanding, they slow down their pace, now away from the nosy eyes of the people on the dock. Patting her arm gently, a troubled look appears on her face, probably wondering why the court was so troubled. Not that he blamed her. Targaryen politics were⎯how to put it⎯difficult at time? Passing by him, they completely ignore his presence, seemingly in their own little world.

Stepping out from the shadows, he clears his throat loudly, making sure to get their attention. They both tense up at the sound, pausing mid-step. Slowly looking over their shoulders, their grips tighten on one another. Their faces showing their thoughts, shit. Forcing smiles onto their faces, they bow in respect.

“Ah, Y/N. You remember Prince Aemond. Don’t you?” Her father pipes in, tensing at the sight of him.

“I do.” She spits out, nodding.

“My lady.” He smirks, “I’ve seen you’ve grown too. No longer the feisty young girl that I once knew.”

His eyes lower to her hand, wanting her to extend it. He wanted to place a kiss on the back of her hand, like he was supposed to do. He wanted to be a gentleman. He wanted to show her the respect she deserved. Her eyes flicker down, seemingly catching what he wanted. She clenches her jaw, holding her hand out for him. A giddy feeling blooming in his chest. Carefully grasping her hand, he practically melts in his shoes at the feeling of her hand in his.

“Yes, my time in Winterfell has made me mature.” She forces out, tensing as he places a kiss to her knuckles.

“I can tell.” He teases, “Will I see you tonight? We are having a feast for my brother’s marriage with Helaena.”

“You will.” She nods, relaxing as he pulls away.

“Promise to save me a dance?” He asks, trying desperately to not sound to eager.

“I think about it.” She muses, “Until then, Prince Aemond.”

“What if I told you I'm a mastermind? And now you're mine, it was all by design..'Cause I'm a mastermind...”

She did in fact not save him a dance. Instead, she happily took Aegon’s hand. Not before, shooting him a teasing wink over her shoulder. If Aegon wasn’t his brother⎯Correction, if there wasn’t as many people in the hall as there was now, he’d have struck his brother down. Glaring holes into the back of Aegon’s head, he could hear everyone’s giggling, his mother even making a teasing remark.

“Why don’t you ask her for a dance, Aemond?” Alicent questions, a slight giggle to her voice.

“She took Aegon’s hand.” He deadpans, eyes glued to her.

“Only because she is teasing you.” Rhaenyra teases, “She’s a Lannister. She’s going to make you work for her hand.”

“Shush, Rhaenyra! Can you see him turning red?” Alicent teases, the woman bursting into giggles.

Turning his head to the woman, a snarky remark was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. He would let them enjoy this. Tomorrow they’d be sober and back at each other’s throats. Looking back at his brother, he places a kiss on the back of her hand, a smirk on his lips. Muttering something to her, she gently slaps his arm, shaking her head with a laugh. When he got the chance, he’d beat Aegon to a pulp.

Clenching his jaw at the sight, Aegon holds his hand out for her to take, hopefully to escort her off the dance floor and into his arms. Placing her hand into his, they walk off the floor, heading over to the table. Jumping up at the sight of them, he stands up from his seat, holding a hand out for her to take. But, she does not take it once again.

“Lady Lannister, wonderful to see you again. Are you enjoying the festivities?” Alicent smiles, a light snicker leaving her lips.

“Indeed, your majesty.” Y/N smiles, “Although, I must say the party is more tame than I am used to. Winterfell’s festivities are less..calm, so to say.”

Nodding their heads in understanding, she finally turns to him, her lips slightly twitching up into a smile. His heart pounds in his chest. If only he had the ability to freeze time. Holding her hand out for him, he carefully grabs it, afraid that she’d pull away too soon. Pressing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, she narrows her eyes slightly, like she was trying to read him. Meeting her eyes, she slowly pulls her hand away, turning her attention onto his mother.

“Queen Alicent, will you dance with me?” She questions, “Aegon has grown tired and I much prefer someone new to dance with.”

“You see, all the wisest women had to do it this way..'Cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game..”

She holds onto Alicent’s hands, twirling the older woman in a circle. Giggles leaving the older woman’s lips as they spin around. Perhaps, in another time where war wasn’t a looming threat, things could have been more like this. Happy. Not a care in the world. Slowly coming to a waltz, a mischievous glint appears in Alicent’s eyes, almost like she knew something that no one else knew.

“Your son, Aemond.” Y/N questions, an innocent look on her face.

“What about him?” Alicent teases, an amused look on her face.

“He doesn’t think⎯” Y/N shakes her head, “Oh, forget about it.”

The amused look on Alicent’s face grows. Now this, she had to hear.

“No, you have gotten my attention. What is it?” Alicent nods, motioning for her to continue.

“I was going to say. He doesn’t think it was an accident meeting me at the docks, does he?” Y/N questions, innocently.

“What do you mean?” Alicent furrows her brows together.

Y/N’s face flashes mischievous before being painted in fake innocence. She was a Lannister after all. She always had a trick or two. Tucking a strand of hair away from Alicent’s face, she pulls the woman close to her. Almost like a hug, but not quite. Hiding her face in her hair, Alicent wraps her arms around her, pulling her in close.

“My mother always said that I should never let fate handle things. That if I want something, I should make it happen.” Y/N whispers, keeping her voice low enough to not be overheard.

“What are you saying?” Alicent questions, raising a brow.

“It was not a coincidence that we reunited after all of this time, my Queen. I know of the approaching war. I know sides will be picked.” Y/N explains, her voice low.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Let us marry. A tie between both of our houses will be beneficial.” She smirks, “The Lannister riches? The Lannister allies? And the Targaryen crown? A very powerful duo. One strong enough to win the war.”

#house of dragons #house of dragons x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagines #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd imagines #aemond targaryen #rhaenys targaryen x reader #princess rhaenys targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen imagine #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong imagines

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fictonrantsworld · 8 months

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In the first season of hotd there were less gowns cos ofc its the first season you can never know what will happen and they needed to save money for the dragons and other scenes. As a helaena lover, i wanted to see my girl in more than 2 clothes the golden one and her blue dress for aegons coronation. But i believe her clothes have their own symbols even for the young helaena actress.

At ep 6 we first see young helaena with a pink dress while with alicent.

The first time we see this young helaena it gives innocent vibes which is what pink is symbolized for. Her 2nd dress is in laenas funeral

This is actually the only time we see helaena in a green dress and showing her mothers colours, the clothes might be chosen by alicent but it still does show her side as the green princess and her loyalties.

Then the next time we see her she is an adult, a mother and aegons wife and as much as i think she deserved a bit more pizaz(cos u know shes a princess).i think her golden dress potrays her loyalties more. Many people even from team green were quite disastisfied that we never see helaena in a green dress and even som toxic stans were trying to use it as an excuse saying shes against alicent and that shes getting abused by aegon (which she never was ) and that shes actually like rhaenyra, who wore gold all the time. But i heavily disagree bc look at this.

Shes literally wearing her husbands colour for sunfyre and so are their kids.

Kinda like alicent did in the begining with viserys by wearing targ colours. Also look at her sun ring and neckalce. She literally representing aegon, when shes becoming queen as well.

And just like how when alicent wore green when she became the green queen, helaena wore her gold blue gown for her own dragon dreamfyre the day she became queen.

Another thing people assume that since adult helaena in season 1 never wore green so that means shes against her family(the delusion😂).

But the thing is that the colours, green and blue, in high valyrian are the same word, so technically...u know🤪

...ps she wears green jewelery... i dont have the soace for more gifs but young alicent wore the same rings so...

#queen helaena targaryen #king aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #helaegon #aegon ii × helaena #jaehera targaryen #jaeherys targaryen son of aegon ii #alicent hightower #dreamfyre #sunfyre #colour themes #viserys targaryen #team green #hotd

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committingwarcr1mes · 3 months

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Look at this pedo smirk.

Daemon saw Rhaenyra growing, she was a child in his eyes — he understands it very well. «You abandoned me» — «I spared you, you were a child». Just think of how this sounds! Yes, Daemon never truly loved Rhaenyra, she only wanted her crown, but at least there was the passion — until she grew up, of course. Watch again the scene of sex on the beach in ep 1x07, it's so insipid and spiritless, and think about it one more time! And what about Laena, that Daemon liked when she was young (even younger than Rhaenyra) but became cold as she became an adult? I don't know what writers wanted to tell us, but now they created a portrait of a typical pedo and psychopath.

As I heard, Nettles won't be in the show and her arc will be given to Rhaena. Well... Poor girl. Cause I don't believe that the fact of paternity will stop Daemon when it will come to lust. And Humbert Humbert wanted Dolores to give a birth to a new nymphet for him.

UPD: Let's do not forget how much Daemon is obsessed with the purity of valyrian blood. Why does he need Rhaenyra with Arryns' andal blood when he has two pure valyrian daughters? That would be so in his character.

#anti team black #anti daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #rhaena targaryen #nettles #pro team green

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bananadrinkxxx · 7 months

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THE BLOOD CROWN (25)

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

Content for adults. 18+

[warnings: smut, sex content, dark romance, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[description: Aemond Targaryen meets his niece under a different name and falls in love with her without knowing that she is supposed to be his enemy.]

Masterlist - click here for all available parts

Daemon Targaryen was many things. Unruly, stern, aggressive and hot-headed.

But he was no fool.

He knew what a danger the girl, who was without a doubt, Aemma Velaryon, posed. She had grown up among the Greens, had served them, and was the mistress of Aemond Targaryen. She had a closer connection to them than to her mother's side, but still, even he held that Rose had to learn that her place was here.

Marax had been a useless dragon without Aemma. Neither had he obeyed, nor had he let anyone ride him. But with the return of Rhaenyra's daughter, everything had changed.

And she was Rhaenyra's daughter.

She had the birthmark on her belly button. She had the visual resemblance and she could ride Aemma's dragon. A dragon could imprint on several riders, but never before had it happened that a dragon had several riders at the same time. Of course, one could now claim that Rose was just a coincidence and Aemma was already dead, but then the birthmark still spoke for her.

Rose Flowers was Aemma Velaryon and Daemon would do anything to make sure that Rhaenyra not only had her daughter back physically, but also emotionally. She would be a great support in this war. She knew the Greens, would make a good spy, and would also be a dragon rider. Marax was the strongest of the young dragons. Of course, he wouldn't stand a chance against Sunfrye or Vhagar, but he would be dangerous. Very dangerous.

But first he would have to get Rose on their side. Make her trust them. Get her to stand up to the Greens. He had to admit, he had no idea how to do that yet, but he would pursue that plan.

"You sent for me, Father," he heard Baela say, and he looked up. Baela looked more like her mother every day and the memory of Laena hurt. He had loved her. He had not been in love with her, but he had not been unhappy with her. She had not been Rhaenyra, he had not been able to feel for her what he felt and had felt for Rhaenyra, but she had meant something to him.

"Sit down, Baela," he urged her, and his daughter, complied with his request.

"What do you think of Rose?"

Baela raised an eyebrow. "You mean Aemma?"

He smiled. "You think Rhaenyra?"

"She's their mother and not a fool. You believe her, too, and I know you. You question everything."

Daemon laughed. Baela was smart, cunning, and no slouch. Just like Laena.

He nodded. "She's Aemma, but I don't know if she's just a good actress pretending she can't remember, or actually has no memory of her true origins."

"Can someone act that well?" questioned Baela. "Her execution was in question, wasn't it? She could have just claimed to be Aemma to escape it, but she escaped instead. Would someone do that who knows about his true identity and would rather risk his life than use that knowledge?"

"That's a good point," Daemon agreed. "But we will only be able to know her true loyalty if she trusts us." He leaned toward his daughter. "And that's where you come in."

"You want me to befriend her?"

This was his girl, his smart girl.

"Get to know her. Gain her trust. I want her to be part of this family and useful to us."

Baela pressed her lips together. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she suddenly seemed absent. Daemon frowned as Baela looked up at him, something strange suddenly in her gaze.

"I will do whatever you ask me to do. But first, there's something you should know."

. . . . .

Rhaenyra smiled as she saw Rose enter the hall together with Lucerys. They were brother and sister without a doubt. It made her happy to see her children standing next to each other, as it should have always been.

Rose wore a light blue dress, Lucerys a dark blue gown.

"Mother," Lucerys greeted her delightedly and she gently stroked his head. Then her eyes wandered to Rose, who bowed. "Princess Rhaenyra," she said, and she saw Lucerys wince out of the corner of her eye. She was addressed as Queen by everyone here, but only because they saw Rhaenyra as their Queen. Officially, Aegon was still the king. At least until she had reversed his illegitimate coronation.

Rhaenyra did not comment on her greeting.

"You have your practice fight with Ser Erryk, right?" asked Rhaenyra addressing Lucerys, who looked less than enthusiastic.

"I can stay here, no problem."

She laughed at his attempt to avoid the training. Lucerys had never been the one to do the fighting. He was of the gentle and sensitive side, loving art and music . Unlike his older brother. "Go, Lucerys. Ser Erryk is a good teacher. You need to work on your skills in these times."

Luce made a pout, but Rhaenyra's playful warning look, made him walk obediently towards the exit. He turned to the two of them once more, and Rhaenyra gave him an inviting smile.

"Are you feeling better, your Grace?" asked Aemma suddenly, and Rhaenyra looked at her in surprise.

"You were a bit groggy during our last conversation. Your son was looking worried."

She saw concern in Aemma's eyes. She also saw honesty and her heart warmed. Her daughter had not lost her good heart.

"I'm better, thank you, Aemma, I-," she stopped and her daughter raised an eyebrow in wonder. Rhaenyra pressed her lips together.

"You have a lot of resemblance to my daughter, Rose," Rhaenyra began.

Aemma nodded in understanding. "Your son has already mentioned it."

Rhaenyra tried to hide the pain in her voice. "Sometimes my head plays tricks on me. I miss my child very much," she confessed, and she saw the sadness in her daughter's eyes. She saw the understanding. She saw the pity, which she had usually despised in others.

"Do you think your daughter is still alive?" asked Aemma suddenly, and Rhaenyra looked at her in surprise. She must have misinterpreted her look, because Aemma gasped in dismay and slapped her hand over her mouth. "Forgive me," she stammered, "I meant no disrespect or insensitivity. It's none of my business." She looked frightened and stared at the floor.

Rhaenyra felt a stab in her heart. She didn't want Aemma to be afraid of her. She wanted to build something with her, something that had been taken from her. She wanted to build a relationship with her daughter, the same one she had with her mother, if not more intimate. This was her little girl.

She reached for Aemma's hand and saw surprised blue-brown eyes. These eyes were unique. She would recognize them among hundreds.

"You don't have to apologize," she began, squeezing her hand. "I want you to get to know us, Rose. Lucerys cares a lot about you, and I'm afraid you don't have a good picture of us. Give us a chance to prove to you that we're not the monsters you might think we are."

Aemma looked at her inquiringly.

"And to answer your question. Yes, I believe my daughter is still alive. No, I know she's alive."

She's standing right in front of me.

Aemma searched her face for something, her eyes jumping back and forth as if fighting an internal battle, before a smile came to her lips and she looked to her hand resting in Rhaenyra's. It had to be a strange feeling for her. A foreign queen reaching for the hand of a foreign servant.

Yet they were so much more than that. A meaning that Aemma did not yet know and that Rhaenyra held only in her heart for now.

"I am sure that one day your daughter will be in your arms again."

Aemma had no idea how much her words touched her. And how much she longed for it at that moment.

Rhaenyra smiled. She felt her lip tremble. "I think so, too."

K I N G S L A N D I N G

Ser Arryk was a faithful person. A religious man.He and his brother had been brought up that way. He was God-fearing, followed the laws and believed in the supreme order. He believed in loyalty, he believed in virtue and courage, and he believed in honor.

But what he was supposed to do had nothing to do with honor. It was honorless, and Ser Arryk felt sick at the thought of what he was being asked to do.

And he would do it. For his king. For the choice he had made.

He prayed for forgiveness in the Sept.

He prayed that the gods would not strike him for something he did only because he obeyed orders.

He prayed that he would not meet his brother on Dragonstone, because the sides they had both chosen were those of enemies. They were enemies. Their mother would turn in her grave.

Hearing footsteps, Ser Erryk flinched in surprise and drew his sword, only to look the young Prince Aemond, or the current Regent to be correct, in the eye. Aemond Targaryen looked at him, unimpressed.

Erryk quickly lowered the sword and bowed. "Your Grace," he greeted him. "I did not expect you at this hour."

"You are here yourself," Aemond replied coolly, stepping closer. "Are you praying for my brother's recovery?"

Erryk swallowed. "That too, your Grace."

"For what else?"

"For the forgiveness of my sins."

"You have sinned?"

"I think I will."

Aemond nodded. He knew what he was talking about. He looked to the shining window of the sept that was illuminated by the candlelight. He was silent for a moment and Ser Erryk could do nothing but stare at the prince. He looked graceful and dangerous. Just as one imagined a Targaryen would be.

"Perhaps you don't need to pray for forgiveness yet," Prince Aemond said suddenly, and Erryk looked at him in surprise. "I have another task for you. One of particularly high urgency."

Aemond turned his eye back to the knight of the King's Guard.

It was surprising how a man with only one eye, commanded so much power that just one look from him was enough to show that he was the one in charge.

"Whatever you command," Ser Erryk replied, and Aemond looked at him with satisfaction.

D R A G O N S T O N E

Baela had lured Rose, or Aemma, (she herself was confused about it) to the village under a pretext. As discussed with her father, she wanted to get to know her cousin better. She also wanted to show her the people here on Dragonstone, who had all sworn allegiance to Rhaenyra. They adored their queen and she wanted Rose to know why. What better way than to have supposedly like-minded people convince her.

"It's a nice dress, isn't it?" asked Baela, lifting up some dress. She didn't care about something as trivial as clothes, but they were women, weren't they? Somehow, in the end, it was always about clothes.

Rose nodded.

"You'll look beautiful in it."

"Oh, I meant for you."

Rose looked at her in surprise. "For me, your royal highness?"

"Baela," she interjected, holding out her hand. "I don't think much of all these titles."

Rose looked at her hesitantly, puzzled by her candor and that she didn't care about her status, but it was the truth. Yes, she was a Targaryen and even entitled to the throne at some point, but the only thing she cared about was riding a dragon and various amusements that were considered unladylike. But what did she care about public opinion? She did what she wanted.

She nodded to her hand. "You're not going to refuse my hand, are you?"

Rose's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "Sorry, no, just me-"

"Just, you-?"

Rose seemed to want to say something, but she remained silent, shaking her head. Then she reached for Baela's hand and slapped it. Baela grinned with satisfaction. "there you go."

"Where were we," Baela scratched her chin. "Ah, your dress."

"I don't need a dress, but thank you," Rose objected.

"Why not? Do you prefer to wear shirts and pants?" she raised an eyebrow. "If that's the case, I can totally understand, I'd rather be a boy too, but the gods gave me a cunt."

Rose's eyes snapped open at her vulgar choice of words, and Baela realized she was speaking too familiarly to her. But before she could say anything, Rose suddenly laughed and nodded.

"I guess a lot of things would be easier then," she concluded.

Baela grinned and pulled Rose along with her.

"It definitely would be, wouldn't it?"

She saw Rose opening up more. She seemed less tense. Good, she should trust her after all. And she did that without any bad intentions. Rose was a nice girl, she wanted to get to know her, wanted to know about her life and what she had experienced. They were a family and she wanted to help Rose find her way back to them and finally become who she really was. She owed that to Rhaenyra.

Baela opened her mouth to let out a funny joke her mother had once told her, appropriate to the situation, when suddenly she heard a bang. Then she felt an unbearable pain before everything went dark and the darkness enveloped her.

The last thing she saw was Rose's shocked face.

. . . . .

Aemond's gaze softened, the hardness receding from his face to make way for gentleness. Suddenly he stood up. Rose drew in her breath in surprise as his strong hands grabbed her by the waist and a short moment later she was standing in the water with him.

"Confess," the septa said.

"You are beautiful," he breathed, suddenly gripping her neck. Wrapped his long fingers around it. "And you're mine. You are mine."

"Confess," the septa said again. Confess what?

He kissed her neck. She felt tears on her cheeks. Why was she crying ?

"You are mine," he repeated his words.

"Confess."

"I love you..."

When Rose woke up, her whole head was buzzing. She moaned at the pain and grabbed her forehead with shaky hands, only to flinch. The touch hurt the thousand hammer blows. What in seven hells had happened? It felt like the entire nation of Westeros had stomped on her head. She opened her eyes slightly, only to close them again. Although it was quite dark, the dim light pained her.

What had happened? She tried to remember. Baela Targaryen's face came to her mind; they had been in the village because the princess had insisted that she accompany her there. She remembered the conversation and Baela's head suddenly being thrown against a wall. She remembered Baela going to the ground and reaching for her, only to be yanked back. She remembered how someone had put a hand on her mouth and nose and how everything went dark after that. Then she remembered nothing more.

She tried to open her eyes again. This time she succeeded. She was lying in a bed, a soft bed, in a room that did not look familiar to her. Had she been taken to another room in Dragonstone. And where was Baela? Had they found her? Had someone come to help them? She swallowed. Her throat was completely dry. She licked her lips with her tongue. They were raw.

"Water is next to your bed."

It didn't take her a second to match the voice to its owner. It was the voice that had haunted her dreams every night. It was the voice that had given her the most beautiful and terrifying moments in her life, and it was the voice that had broken her heart.

Rose jerked her head to the right,

Aemond. Just as she remembered him. Dressed in graceful black. His white blond hair spread over his shoulder to his chest. He played with the rings on his fingers while keeping his gaze on her. A cold shiver went down her spine. His gaze was hard and strange and he looked at her as if she was nobody of importance. The corners of his mouth were slightly raised, as if he was pleased to see her shocked expression. He had thrown one leg over the other, and was leaning into his chair as if no moment could be more satisfying for him.

There he sat. The man she loved, and who did not love her.

But what was more shocking was the fact that he shouldn't be here.

What had happened?

How could this be? Why was he here? Was he on Dragonstone, or was she...?

"Welcome back. Did you miss me, Rose?"

Something about me. English is not my native language. I've learned in school and I still make mistakes. When you see something wrong or which absolutley makes no sense, please tell me. I write my ideas in my native language and even when I translate everything, sometimes I can miss something when I correct myself. So please tell me when you see weird stuff. Lot of love ❤️

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @malfoytargaryen

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sunnysideaeggs · 8 months

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I really liked your analysis on laena's shifting ages as the plot demands.

I was wondering what was even the need for making Laena so young in the first place? Her story was good enough on its own in the books why change it so drastically to make her the youngest out of all of them and then shuffle her back to look the oldest?

The reason i came to realise was the writers really wanted to whitewash Viserys. Basically give him an out where the stupid audience can conclude, hey look how noble this dude is to deny a 12 year old for this 15 year old. 15years are totes the marrying age! 🤢

In fact, u also notice how much they want the audience to like him, when they give all of his ideas on targ incest to Alicent, who would have been the least likely one to arrange for it.

Another point was I hated when they added yet another actor to portray older laena, when Savannah should have portrayed her. It would have atleast made some sense to show how this is also a young child bride.

Has there even been any backlash to the whole thing for the show? It seems no one notices when women of color are portrayed so poorly.

No offense to any of the actors.

In my opinion, the story changed from its foundations when the show runners decided the main premise of the Dance was the relationship between Rhaenyra and Alicent. By closing their 10 year gap, Aging Alicent down and Rhaenyra up, they messed up everyone’s ages and roles (so they make stuff up or conveniently forget it).

Laena was already younger than Alicent in canon, and it showcases (more than the show anyways) the main and only reason Viserys chose Alicent was lust and the ‘need for heirs’. They could’ve showcased that more had they portrayed Viserys as the piece of shit he was and not the doting father (bc if he’s a pos, maybe he didn’t do right causing a succession crisis).

Consequently, Daemon and his awful grooming of Rhaenyra ‘doesn’t look so bad’ because she’s 14 and not 8. But because they had to whitewash Viserys, she’s younger than Rhaenyra and needs to be portrayed as an adult when she’s still a teen. Then, when she needs to be freezed, they chose another actress (conveniently older than both Emma and Olivia) to sweep their bullshit beneath the rug.

Imo, the revisionist portrayal of the Dance is the thing that messes everything up. The showrunners knew the general public wouldn’t sit right with a story about women being catty about each other (which is probably propaganda anyways) and wrote themselves a tragedy about lost friendship and so so. Consequently, everyone (including Alicent and Rhaenyra) suffers.

#sunny answers ☀️🍳#anti hotd

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targcrazies · 9 months

Text

Moonless, Dark Night. Pt. 3

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!Strong (half Targaryen) Words: 3.6k+ Warnings: Violence and Graphic Descriptions, Emotional Distress, Mature (ish) themes, Mentions of Self-Harm and Su*cide, Adult Language, Incest.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Sansa was shaken awake by Jace. For a moment, she struggled to recall where she was. Because back at home, she had her own chamber at the Hand’s Tower, a large bed instead of so many small ones. The air tasted like mold and sweat, unlike salt, and the nights were darker because the moon never found its way to her window. They were young, so young. Jace was barely seven, Sansa was ten. Yes, Laena and Laenor, both had passed, and they were at Driftmark.

“Someone’s stolen Vhagar!”

“What?” Sansa muttered, still incredibly sleepy. She realised that Baela, Rhaena, and Luke were already rushing out the door, sneaking out quietly. Jace pulled her to her feet, took her hand, and ran. She ran beside the younger boy, still failing to register what had transpired to cause such concern among them. How could someone steal Vhagar? Vhagar was so huge. The only way to steal the dragon would be to ride him. Who would bother claiming a dragon in the middle of the night?

“Aemond!” Sansa’s voice was loud, causing Jace to stop in his tracks and shush her, “Jace, it’s Aemond, he’s claimed Vhagar! He wasn’t in there, it must’ve been him” Sansa was then completely awake, happy at the thought of Aemond finally having what he’d desired so all this time.

“But, but that’s wrong!” Jace argued, “Vhagar was Aunt Laena’s, their mother’s. Rhaena was meant to claim her!”

“Dragons are not passed down to children, that is not how it works, Jace. A dragon belongs to the one who claims her.” Sansa reasoned with Jace, “You must stop them from getting into an unreasonable fight. I will alert your mother and the Queen.”

Jace nodded before running off and joining the rest. She first went to look for Rhaenyra, however, Rhaenyra was not in her bedchamber. She did not want to awaken her mother, but she did not want to meet the Queen on her own. She still made her way to the Queen’s chamber, hoping to find anyone who might be of help in this regard. Soon enough, she found one of the Cargyll twins, “Ser!” she called out to him, “Ser, could you, please, awaken the Queen?”

“Lady Strong, why are you roaming the castle so late at night?” He ran up to the child, kneeling before her.

“Aemond has claimed Vhagar and the others have rushed to detain him-”

“Others? Who are the others?” Ser Cargyll seemed alarmed, he knew he was in for quite the reprimanding later.

“Jace, Luke, and Uncle Daemon’s daughters. Oh, and Joffrey, too! He must’ve been the first to chase Aemond down, for I never saw him.”

“Where is Prince Aegon?” Ser Cargyll held the girl gently by her arms, “Do you know, Lady Strong?”

She remembered the tall, lanky boy in his bed, asleep on his stomach. “He never woke up!”

“Lady Strong, you’ve been the most brave. You may go back to bed, I shall take care of the rest.” He left her alone and ran downstairs. Sansa heard the door to the Queen’s chamber open, and she turned to greet her, to only find her older half-brother, Larys.

“I thought I heard you,” He muttered, “Your Grace, it’s just my sister.” He looked back inside, smiling.

The Queen exited the chamber, bending down to Sansa’s level, her hands placed affectionately upon the child’s shoulders, “Dearest, how come you’re up? Are you looking for your Mother?”

Sansa went on to describe what had happened, watching the blood leave the Queen’s face. Soon enough the whole castle had been awoken. The kids were escorted in, save for Aemond, who was carried inside. He was sat before the hearth, several Maesters crowding the boy. Sansa pushed past the men, to congratulate Aemond for having claimed the biggest Dragon of them all. The sight that followed was horrific, his eye was swollen shut, blood pouring endlessly. “Aemond!” she screamed, taking the boy's hands in hers and kneeling before him, “Aemond, who did this?” Sansa couldn’t think who could have pulled something so horrific. In her head, it was Vhagar who had hurt the boy so badly. But, where did Vhagar get a dagger from?

“It was one of the Strong boys," he hissed as one of the Maesters started dabbing his engorging wound with a brown, thick liquid, “It was Luke!” he spat venom with the name and Sansa’s blood ran cold. The Queen had arrived by then, wearing a dressier gown. She began to cry when she saw her son’s injury, attempting to gently push Sansa away. However, Aemond held on to her hand tight, refusing to budge. The Queen did not argue.

Much of what happened later was a blur to Sansa. Luke’s nose was broken, Jace's forehead bled profusely. Joffrey had cut his fingers, too. The girls were largely unharmed, just a few bruises here and there. Rhaenyra had returned by then, from a long walk. Daemon stood quietly by the door, watching the events unfold. Uncle Daemon must've accompanied Rhaenyra, she thought. She looked at the boys quietly, trying to soothe them with her eyes alone. Aemond released her hand, “Go to them if it pains you to see them hurt.”

“I want to be here, please.” Sansa pled, finding Aemond’s injury grave, deciding that he could do more with her support than the Velaryon boys. She took Aemond’s hands in hers, and though he didn’t hold hers anymore, he did not refuse her touch. The King came next, glowering, shouting interrogations at Aemond’s face. He did not wince once at the sight of his son having lost his eyes, his concerns regarding the maiming had somehow disappeared the moment Rhaenyra accused Aemond of having besmirched the boys’ and her name by implying their illegitimacy. She sat so close to Aemond that she could see his features harden, his jaw take form in his round face. The King then moved to Aegon, who somehow still seemed pretty clueless regarding what had happened. The King yelled at the older boy, questioning him where he had heard such obscene rumours, the boy looked at his mother, and Sansa turned her head back to find the Queen shaking her head softly.

"We know, Father. Everyone knows. Just look at them." Aegon’s words seemed to have knocked the anger out of the King, replacing every sentiment with deranged anguish. He then spoke as their father, their grandfather, their uncle; he pled for them to get along, to let go of all disputes and be family. He also made sure that the Velaryon boys’ status was never put to question, threatening to cut off anyone’s tongue who may speak ill of their birth. Princess Rhaenyra seemed pleased with the jurisdiction, thanking the King, addressing him as “Father”. However, the Queen was not happy with the outcome, she said through angry tears that a debt was to be paid. The King rejected his wife’s notion of taking out one of Luke’s eyes, hoping to walk away from the ordeal, for he felt like he had it all settled. Sansa felt thankful that her father had never treated her as secondary, despite having sons from his first wife, and loved her all the same as her brothers. No one had awoken her mother, she realised, her being ill must have been taken into account.

Sansa looked at Aemond, whispering, “I will speak to Luke, get him to apologise to you.”

“You won’t, Sansa. No apology can undo the maiming. I have lost an eye forever, do you know what it’s like?” he muttered quietly, “It’s like losing a father.”

Before Sansa could say anything, perhaps an apology, the Queen had grabbed the King’s dagger and lunged herself forward to take Luke’s eye. Rhaenyra wrestled the woman backward, and it looked like all she was trying to do was stop the Queen. Luke’s screams could be heard all over. Her uncle, Daemon, sprinted forward when he saw Cole ready to interject. The two mothers were muttering to each other things no one could make out, and when the Queen finally dropped the dagger, Daemon and Corlys stood beside Rhaenyra, watching her hand bleed like rain, creating a large pool underneath.

Aemond left Sansa’s side, walked around her to hold his mother, “Mother, do not mourn. It was a fair exchange. I might have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon. What’s an eye to a dragon?” She felt like he had changed in a matter of an hour. From a boy, he had begun to speak like a young man. Gaining his dragon gave him the kind of confidence one could never feign, she thought.

Sansa was sent to her Mother’s chamber for the night, quietly lying down beside her. She watched her mother’s face, quiet and peaceful. Her mother had become especially detached from the ongoings at court ever since her husband and Harwin died. Her health had taken a hit. Sansa was hopeful that she would recover soon. The Seven couldn’t be so unkind as to take her mother away from her.

When Lady Visenya Strong woke up the next morning and found her child asleep beside her, she enquired vociferously about what had gone so wrong. When informed, she requested to see Aemond herself. The Queen, despite efforts, could not convince Aemond to hold an audience, not even for his aunt. The Queen abashedly made apologies for her son’s lack of qualms but also reasoned that she did not want to be so harsh on the boy, given what had transpired the night before. Lady Visenya understood, nodded, and left with her daughter quietly. Then she visited Rhaenyra and the boys, making inquiries about her horrid cut. Rhaenyra hugged her aunt before wrapping her arms around Sansa. “I am not upset with you,” Rhaenyra quietly reassured the child, “You were very smart and very brave.” She faced her cousin, “Jace told me that it was your idea to awaken me, I am so sorry I was not there, dearest.” She looked up at her aunt, telling her that she was raising a lovely, intelligent child, before hugging Sansa again. Sansa looked at the three Velaryon boys, huddled together. They smiled at her, letting her know that they held nothing against her either.

The next time she saw Aemond was after a whole month had passed. He then wore a silk patch where his eye had been. Rhaenyra and her sons had left for Dragonstone for good. Rhaenyra wanted to bring Sansa with her, however, Sansa insisted that she wanted to be with her mother, whose health debilitated every day. When she saw Aemond, she carefully walked closer to him. She had gotten lonely. With the Velaryon boys gone, Aegon being mostly avoidant toward anything he couldn't ogle at, and Helaena preferring her solitude; Sansa had little to do than read. She enjoyed reading, but she also appreciated respite from it. Then, she had none.

“Aemond,” she called out to him, waiting for him to turn and face her. However, he only slowed his pace. “I haven’t met you in so long. I wanted to see you, every day, but the Queen said that you did not wish to see anyone.” Sansa had begun to walk with Aemond to catch up with him.

“Yes, I wished to be left alone. Why?” Aemond did not spare her a glance, continuing in his path.

“I was worried.” She replied, taken aback at his reservation, “Does it hurt?”

“It’s gotten better, so no.” He curtly replied, “Have you anything you’d like to ask? I am getting late for training.”

“No…” she looked down, somewhat struggling to match his steps, “Can I come and watch?”

“You can do whatever you like, I do not care.” That stopped Sansa in her tracks, watching him leave on his own, disappear from sight as he took a turn right. She had never felt more alone. People around her only died and left and she wondered why could she not do the same.

Aemond refused to speak to her at length, not meeting her eyes even when she tried. Her mother tried to speak to Aemond as well, “Dear nephew, how have you been? Oh, how you grow every day. Soon enough the ladies will be lining up! So handsome you are, my boy.” He was always cordial, but he never spoke any more than absolutely necessary. He once doted on his aunt, loved her attention. Then, he could not bother to speak to them. Soon enough, it was well understood by everyone that his refusal to speak to them stemmed from their being “Strongs”. Sansa’s heart broke, for she hadn’t hurt him, she hadn’t taken out his eye. She stayed kneeling before him the whole time, and held his hand as they tended to his wounds. Her heart sank every time Aemond saw her and pretended that nobody was there.

One morning, she was awoken by the Queen. It had been only eleven months since her father and brother had passed, and she dreaded the day the earth would have finished its course on it. The Queen took Sansa’s hands in hers, “My sweet child, the most awful has happened.” The Queen cried, “Lady Visenya has passed away, my dear, in her sleep.” before Sansa could even register what had transpired, she was hugged tightly by the King, who sobbed terribly at the loss of his only sister. Sansa could not find it in herself to cry or shed tears. She sat quietly. The Queen wrapped her mother for her funeral, and she quietly assisted. She was asked by the King to claim her late mother’s dragon, Verasys. When she walked up to Verasys, it seemed like the dragon had taken it upon himself to claim the child rather than the other way around. She secured herself in the saddle, and the dragon flew her to Dragonstone. Rhaenyra and the boys were already mounting their dragons to leave for the Red Keep when they found Sansa atop. Rhaenyra broke down in tears, held the child in her arms, and mourned the loss of her aunt. “Dearest, you must come back with us. I cannot let you live in that dreary place on your own. You must, must come back with us.” Jace, Luke, and Joff all insisted the same. Daemon picked Sansa up, observing the child’s face, “It’s a relief you look like her. How very dreary it would be otherwise.”

When they all returned and stood before the pyre, she could not find it in herself to command the dragon to burn her mother, her voice small voice. Daemon refused to put her down, carrying her the entire time. “I had to do this, too, sweet one. I know how difficult it is. But, dearest, you must.” Rhaenyra comforted. Daemon whispered to the child, "I had lost my mother too young to even understand. It never gets easier. We can only try to make things work with what little we have. It's alright, dearest, or at least, it shall be."

“Dracarys!” Her child-like voice sprung and Verasys followed the command, despite a certain halt in his gait. She watched her Mother’s pyre burn, unable to tear her eyes off. Rhaenyra later returned with her to her bedchamber, packing up all her belongings with the help of her maids. Sansa noticed Aemond standing by the door of her bedchamber, observing for a while before taking off. Soon enough, the Queen was escorted with her personal shield, Criston Cole.

“What is all this?” she inquired, “Where are you taking her?”

“To Dragonstone, your Grace.” Rhaenyra refused to look at the Queen, “I believe she should be under my care now that Aunt Visenya has passed. I don’t see any reason for the child to stay here on her own.”

“I do not understand. Sansa is under my direct care here, she is attended to at all times. How is she alone?”

Daemon rose from his place in the chair, “My sister wrote to us regularly, your Grace. Sansa has been mostly by herself ever since Rhaenyra and the boys left for Dragonstone. Prince Aegon now has his own... indulgences, Princess Helaena does not prefer the company of anybody as much, and my one-eyed nephew has forsaken his friend altogether. Sansa must come with us.”

The Queen’s face hardened, her lips pursed in a straight line, her one hand clutching the other, “The King will not allow it. He adores Sansa, I hardly believe he can tolerate another loss.”

“How is it loss? The child now has a dragon, she can see Father every week, if she desires so.” Rhaenyra held Sansa’s face gently, drinking her face in, “She will stay with me.”

The Queen had gone red in the face, “I must speak to the King before I can allow this.”

Daemon laughed sarcastically, “Allow? I mean no offence, your Grace, but who are you to allow me to bring in my niece under my care?”

“My Prince, you seem to forget that I am the child’s aunt, too. Sansa and Aemond were weaned by the same wet nurse. She grew up before me, she is like mine own daughter.”

“She has the blood of the dragon in her, not yours.” Daemon refused to spare the Queen any other explanation, expediting the process of packing then.

“Ser Criston, please alert my husband of my step-daughter and my brother-in-law’s intentions and escort him here right away.” Sansa was aware that were it a man, Daemon would have punched him to no end. Daemon only glared at the Queen and Rhaenyra refused to dignify her with a reaction.

The King came next, his body leaning against the support of his illustrious cane, “Rhaenyra, I know how you feel. After your mother’s death, Visenya was like a mother to you.” He began sympathetically, “I must urge you, however, to not remove Sansa from my care. Visenya left her in my- our- care.” He corrected himself when his wife shot him a subtle look.

“Father, do you know how lonely Sansa’s been here? Aunt Visenya wrote to me often and she told me that Sansa has not been happy here. Were it not for her health, I’d have brought both of them with me. Now that Aunt has passed, I believe that it would be in Sansa’s best interest to stay with me, Daemon, and the boys. At least, she’d have company.”

“You forget, Rhaenyra, that Sansa has Aemond and Helaena here, two children closer to her age than your sons.”

“My half-siblings are all wrapped up in their own antics, Aunt Visenya had expressed her concern regarding this, letter after letter, Father.” Rhaenyra took hold of Sansa’s shoulders, “Please, I implore you, do not fight me on this.”

“Of course, you always get your way.” The King muttered to himself, his face contorted in anger. Everyone knew what the King meant. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married shortly after Laenor Velaryon’s death, an event that had angered much of the Court. However, Sansa’s mother had dealt with the news differently, “Viserys should have allowed them to wed when Daemon asked for Rhaenyra’s hand. This was to happen, sooner or later.” "When did that happen, Mother?" Sansa was the most surprised at the prospect of her uncle and her cousin marrying. "You couldn't possibly remember, my love." Her mother smiled.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, “Let me keep her with me for a few months then.”

“Specify.” The King commanded.

“Six,” Rhaenyra spoke, “She can spend the rest of the year here.”

“No, she spends a month with you, then returns indefinitely.”

“Brother, you’re being unreasonable-” Daemon interjected.

“I AM NOT BEING UNREASONABLE.” It was clear then that he had stopped speaking to them as kin, and then he spoke as their King, “Visenya died leaving Sansa in my care, and she will remain in MY CARE. Sansa can spend a month at Dragonstone, she might enjoy the change. But on the fourth of the next moon, I want her here. Your King commands it.” Sansa's eyes drifted off to find Aemond standing quietly by the door, uttering not a single word.

—

Sansa returned when she was commanded, being met with the King’s and the Queen’s embraces, Otto Hightower’s warm welcome, and Helaena’s and Aegon’s apologies for not having been more present. Aemond greeted her after she had freshened up, watching quietly as she put back her gowns in the cupboards.

“How was Dragonstone?” He finally asked.

“It was lovely. I had a great time.” She did not spare him a glance, carrying on with her task.

“I missed having you here.” His tone bore no emotion, he merely watched her move around comfortably in her own space. He had to admit that she seemed better-adjusted, self-affirmed even. He wondered what might have changed that for her.

“How come? You’ve barely spoken to me in almost a year.”

He remained quiet for a minute before he spoke, “I felt like you were on their side.”

“Their? Who are they?”

“You know, the Strong boys.” Aemond’s voice quivered as he spoke of them.

“They’re Velaryons, Aemond, not Strongs. Don’t let your father hear that. I’m sure he’d not like maiming his own son any further.” She walked up to him then, facing him, “Why would you make assumptions about me? Have I ever sided with them, unjustly, even when we all were together at Court?” Aemond remained quiet, refusing to answer, “I stayed by your side the whole time they stitched you up, yet you doubt my loyalty to you.”

“Are you loyal to me?” Aemond raised his eyebrows, looking at her closely.

“I suppose, but I’d really prefer you returning it.”

“You have my loyalty, Sansa.” He took off his eyepatch, revealing a hollow, dark socket where there was once a lilac eye.

She studied the scar, “It’s healed well, I see.”

“Mother made sure that the best Maesters in King’s Landing attended to it.” He admitted coyly.

“That reminds me, I do have something for you.” She opened a chest of her belongings, bringing over a small box to him, “Mother’s left me quite some dragons and gold. I took the liberty to buy something for the four of you. For Helaena, I bought breathable glass containers for her insects. For Aegon, leather boots. For Daeron, an armour. For you,” she opened the box, “This sapphire. It’s been coated with harmless metal, won’t affect your flesh. The portion not coated will be facing outward, for your benefit.”

Aemond took the stone in his hand, “Father would love this.”

“Aemond the Bejeweled.” Aemond thought she was making light of the situation, but when he looked at her, he found her to be smiling rather sincerely. He felt like hugging her but held himself back.

#game of thrones #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x cousin!reader #aemond targaryen x strong!reader #hotd imagine

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mejcinta · 8 months

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Lately, I noticed lots of people getting delicate around Aemond and Alys' relationship, claiming that either he raped her or she groomed him.

The book depicts the beginning of their relationship «Prince Aemond had taken her into his bed as a prize of war soon after taking Harrenhal». During the dance, terms such as "take to bed" and "spoils of war" are also used in reference to the Daemon and Nettles, and to the Jon Roxton and Sharis Footly:

1) «Daemon Targaryen had come to love the small brown bastard girl, and had taken her into his bed» but does this necessarily mean that the Demon raped Nettles, as the show has already established his pedophilic tendencies (the young girls whom were offered to him in the brothel, both Laena and Rhaenyra were groomed by him, since one was around 15-16, other never was able to form her charachter without his influence).

2)«Bold Jon Roxton became enamored of Lady Sharis after the First Battle of Tumbleton, and claimed her as a “prize of war.” When her lord husband protested, Ser Jon cut him nigh in two with Orphan-Maker. Sharis wept as he tore her gown», her reaction made it clear that she was assaulted.

Now let's look at the relationship between Alys and Aemond, the background of their characters and how their relationship was later described.

Alys Rivers was a bastard of House Strong, Grand Maester Munkun and Septon Eustace refer her as a bastard of Lord Lyonel Strong. The general attitude towards bastards stems from religious beliefs, where those born out of wedlock are seen as a weakness and dishonour of their parents, and are therefore treated with disdain. The treatment of female bastards is even worse, when in such a feudal and patriarchal society as Westeros, they have far more limited opportunities to improve their position than male ones. "A Feast for Crows" introduces a bastard girl named Falia Flowers, whose family mistreated her and forced her into servitude, and after Euron Greyjoy takes control over her castle, she willingly goes with him because she was enough of the miserable life in her parental household.

While her parentage remains dubious, her surname clearly indicates that she was the daughter of a nobleman. But unlike bastards like Jon Snow or Rhaenyra’s sons, she was a servant to her relatives and after her own children were born dead she served as a wet nurse, an occupation historically regarded as exploitative of women. Not only she was a servant, but also accused in witchcraft (whether it is true or not), it always is followed by social stigma, discrimination and marginalisation of women.

Obviously power imbalance on Aemond’s side, making her unable to groom her, and how could she do it to an ADULT. But how later their relationship was described:

-“it was Aemond alone who had become besotted with the Rivers woman, to such an extent he could not bear the thought of leaving her”;

- after the defeat at the battle by the lakeshore he almost strangled the messenger to death if not for Alys be the only one who could stop him, so he valued her enough;

- when alys was captured by sabitha frey, instead of asking for help if she was his hostage, she proclaims that she is carrying his child, and aemond later came to rescue her and she run with him;

- he brought her to battle above the god’s eye with him and kissed her as last thing he did in life;

- after his death she proclaimed herself as his widow even she would gain nothing from it, and when some man dared to insult her son with Aemond, he was immediately killed, either she ordered someone to do that or even blowed up this man’s head herself.

While show revealed Aemond had unpleasant first sexual experience and called out Aegon’s tastes as depraved, can be assumed that they will not make him force himself on Alys. So the term "prize of war" could be thrust upon them by others and should be seen as such if Alys and Aemond consider it as that.

You know, people can project all they want on Alys, Aemond and their relationship, but one thing the show has made clear is that they're 'softening' Aemond. He's not nearly a scrary brute as his book counterpart (which I still find interesting). There's more nuance to his character, and the same will go for Alys (like Alicent and Rhaenyra's characters).

Hoping that Aemond is made abusive and Alys some sadistic witch is so...boring, unoriginal, petty and bitter. There's nothing remotely new or interesting story-wise about that. But let's just wait and see.

#anon #alys rivers #aemond targaryen #aemond × alys #alysmond #fire and blood

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atopvisenyashill · 4 months

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I love how HotD has Aegon just be as pathetic as a wet cat (he didn't need to be raping the maids) but the idea that he is a dragon dreamer a la Daeron the Drunk will not stop leaving my head. And his grand plan to stop the Dance, marry someone completely unsuitable and have legitimate children and plug up the succession line while Dad is still kicking it.

Not sure if wife is A) sweet peasant girl B) Dornish acknowledged bastard or C) daughter of a minor minor castle guard. Either way, the vows were said and scandal happens. Crisis not averted by hijinks.

I am one of the few people that actually thought all the more fucked up writing decisions were a good idea alsdfj (the ones everyone seems to have an issue with are Aegon being a rapist, Viserys having a child bride, and Daemon choking Rhaenyra but. Gaemon Palehair came from somewhere, the Targaryen look is uncommon in canon!, also Viserys literally has a child bride in the books, and I think establishing that Daemyra is starting this war irrevocably broken is a fun turn). I do think Aegon (and all the kids) suffered from only being in like two episodes as an adult, and while Ty Tennant is an amazing young Aegon, they don't let him do anything besides be a joke or get slapped around by his parents. They needed to stretch the timeline out so we got several episodes with Ty!Aegon, and have the penultimate slaughter be the Harrenhal fire/Laena's death, and the last episode be the Driftmark fight. We could get a final scene with the boys and the twins in their final form (lmao) to introduce them if they really wanted!!

BUT. TO YOUR AU BEFORE I START RANTING EVEN MORE. I love the idea of an Aegon-As-Dragon-Dreamer AU, that's a really fun one! Aegon being a dreamer and deciding the way out of the Dance is to make himself unsuitable as an heir by marrying scandalously and having a million kids so they can't annul his marriage is honestly exactly the sort of hare brained scheme I can see a depressed, neglected, drunken idiot coming up with, hah (respectfully to this man but he is a mess).

Now if we're talking what he can get away with...he's never gonna be able to marry a sweet peasant girl. Otto will have that girl killed so fucking fast it's not even funny - I know Jenny of Oldstones was able to marry Duncan the Small, but Egg was someone who actually saw the smallfolk as people and I am confident Otto is not that enlightened! More likely, a peasant girl would face Tysha's fate - something violent and gendered for not knowing her place. If she's lucky, she's pressed into the faith like Meg was. Possible Aegon realizes this and abandons the idea of a peasant girl for a wife but I think it's possible he tries to elope, gets caught, and the girl is punished. Regardless of how it happens, Aegon will eventually realize he needs someone who is not just unsuitable but also has a family that will protect her from his own, and maybe even has their own castle that he can hide out in (out of sight, out of mind, right?).

This means an acknowledged Dornish bastard is his best route (or any acknowledged bastard, but Dornish will piss a lot of people off so it's the safest bet). If he really wants to go for unsuitable, he's looking to the Dornish Marchers for a bastard girl to marry because of the bad blood between all the Marcher Lords in the area - Blackmont (the Vulture King was rumored to be a Blackmont bastard), Fowler, Manwoody, Yronwood, or Wyl (the Wyls are responsible for the brutal massacre at an Oakheart wedding), plus there's the Daynes who are close by and known for being menaces and the Ullers who are powerful and known for being insane (Ellaria's father is an Uller). If there's a suitable Blackmont, Wyl, Dayne, or Uller bastard girl, I would say that is his best chance. Any Dornish girl and Dornish ruling lord who agrees to this is likely to be someone with a strong will, understanding they're about to get thrown into a wild political scene. Because as you said, crucially, he's trying to get himself effectively disinherited while forcing Aemond so far down in the line of succession that there's no hope of crowning him. Whatever girl he marries has to understand she will never be Queen, his family will be hostile to her and her children, but he will protect them, with Sunfyre if need be. I think Sunfyre will factor a lot into this courtship actually; being told that you'll be protected by the most beautiful dragon who is known to have a particularly close bond with your suitor is probably convincing enough that she'd be willing to risk the danger for a chance at having legitimate children with someone incredibly high born.

There is the risk of people at Court feeling the Targaryens are getting ~too Dornish~ which is honestly really funny and may be a point Aegon can use in his favor - if his father is insisting on some sort of dornish, absolute primogeniture, why not just go for broke and marry a dornish bastard? He could use the marriage to gain an in with Rhaenyra or Jacaerys if he wants, or simply avoid them all together so as to not tip Otto and Alicent off that he's actively sabotaging his own rule.

#asks #anons #canon divergent au #the dance of the dragons #aegon the usurper #dorne #legitimacy in asoiaf #i've fallen in love with this au anon if u write a fic u gotta link me!!!#dreamer aegon au

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darklinaforever · 2 months

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Yes of course... You clearly need to get the shit out of your eyes cleaned. If while Daemon is having sex with Rhaenyra you see him making a quick deal even though it's explicitly quite slow and gentle (makes sense since she gave birth not long ago) I don't know what to say other than that shit in your eyes must be powerful once again. And like I said before... As if he hadn't squeezed her thigh in his hands ? As if he didn't caress her face again before resting his forehead on hers ? Oh and if you watch from 1 minute and 14 seconds to 1 minute and 17 seconds Daemon actually puts his arm under Rhaenyra to hug her too. So he's also hugging her as much as she's hugging him. Then as if the sex itself hadn't been slow and tender ? Saying that he's done with sex with her as soon as possible is the biggest bad joke I've seen. 😂

So... Rhaenyra was 19 years old. An adult then. But the information is clearly having trouble getting to the brain... Laena was 16 years old, marriageable for the time of Westeros. You don't understand what a feudal / historical context entails do you ? The fact that a man of Daemon's age would marry a young woman of 16 years old is not shocking in context. It's inspired by fucking feudal times. If you want to accuse Daemon of being a predator for marrying a 16 year old woman, complain about how society worked at the time. No Daemon. Otherwise you can also complain about almost all the men of the time! And it had nothing to do with predation! Idiot... But given your level of understanding I imagine that for you all men of that time were predators... Also Laena was 22 years old in the book. Not 16 years old. In the series and book Mysaria is a fully adult woman. Rhaenyra may be younger in the book than in the series when Daemon asks for her hand, but depending on the era, Rhaenyra was also of marriageable age. Whether it's the series or the book, the women in Daemon's life therefore have varying and different ages, they are not all located in the same youth age group that you promote to try to make him pass for a predator attracted specifically to young girls. You really look ridiculous at this point. Honestly, thanks for proving that you know nothing about the book Fire and Blood and basic feudal society. Oh and at the risk of annoying you... Nettles has never been proven. And never will be in Fire and Blood.

I've seen both versions of The Borgia series, and Cesare & Lucrezia don't have any toxicity ? Lol. They do, just in a different way than Daemyra from the series. Also I repeat Daemyra is not grooming, book and series. On the other hand, the only thing I can say with certainty about Cesare and Lucrezia's love is that compared to all the crap that goes on in this series and their family, they are definitely pure in comparison. And what do you do with Hades and Persephone ? Literally one of the healthiest relationships in Greek mythology ? 😭😂

For the thousandth time, I obviously know the definition of grooming and historical context and you don't. Dameyra is not a grooming book and series.

Oh and Daemon didn't kill Rhea Royce in the book.

And since we're staying on the series... it's hard to understand that Rhaenyra is 19 years old in this fucking episode 4 and 5 ? An adult and not a child !

You must really have a shitty life to come and repeat the same shit over and over again anonymously as if it's going to change anything in reality.

You don't need a doctor ?

You almost never talk about Criston Cole and the other men. Stop pretending to care about Rhaenyra. You're literally the type of person who says you can't wait to watch her get abused over and over again. Daemyra is not grooming, I literally for the thousandth time wrote a huge article about this but YOU ARE DEAF ! You don't understand the definition of the word and what a historical context implies. You are a bunch of idiot butchers. I never denied the toxicity of Daemyra in the series, non-existent in the book because again HISTORICAL CONTEXT ! Once again, go read @horizon-verizon it might educate you. And I NEVER claimed Daemon was Prince Charming. What do you not understand about a gray and complex character ?! Unless for you a gray and complex character is in fact incapable of loving a woman and having a healthy relationship with her ?!

Oh, and I have already said I don't know how many times that I recognized that Daemyra had toxic aspects in the series version, except that, so what ? This will prevent me from shipping the Daemyra version of the series maybe ?! No. Love is not necessarily something pure, we have to stop the bullshit, especially in fiction. On the other hand, I maintain that there is nothing toxic in the book version. There is no such thing as a brothel. It's an invention of Mushroom. There is no voluntary abandonment of Daemon for 10 years. In reality he was banished under penalty of death. There is no Daemon leaving Rhaenyra to deal with childbirth alone. He was by his side in the books. There is no strangulation either. And once again, the age difference and or the incest aspect are not real arguments as to a possible toxicity in their relationship, due to placing the relationship in its fictional and historical context from which GRRM draws inspiration, namely the feudal era, where age differences and incest were included in the customs of the time for specific reasons. Especially if we are in a family where incest has no impact due to their MAGIC BLOOD ! These elements are not evidence of toxicity. Open a history book. An age difference and incestuous marriage in a historical context does not necessarily result in toxic abusive relationships. This is bullshit.

So basically, I'm right when I say that you don't read my responses and just repeat the same shit over and over again ! “Acknowledge that Daemyra is toxic” I've said I don't know how many times that they were toxic in the show's version. Honestly, go get treatment for stalking my account like a crazy person. Are you interested in me at this point ? Sorry, you're not my type.

See when I say they repeat the same shit over and over again without wanting to hear it ?! Real parrots. Clearly I must really be a bridge to have so many trolls coming to see me. The antis have small brains. What do you think Daemon ?

Yeah, that's what I thought...

@aleksanderscult

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ride-thedragon · 13 days

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Restyling House Velayron.

To me, they were done the most dirty in terms of costumes. Older members first because they establish the world the young ones inherited. So they set the fashion of the house.

Corlys Velayron.

For me, the thought is that Corlys is two things, wealthy and beyond the idea of Westeros. He is the sailor of the nine Voyages, the head of the richest House in Westeros. The pleasantries his title should afford are outweighed by his acclaim and place in history. He is a player in the game, but in appearance, he's beyond fairness. Extravagant jewels and patterns from trading and rich materials that scream, we all know the one thing that kept me from that throne.

Rhaenys Targaryen Velayron

Mother is a Baratheon, a Velayron, and a Targaryen. She's also the style icon of her house. She grew up the seeming heir to the iron throne and is the wife of Lord Corlys. Her ability to play the part of reconciled Princess is only counteracted by her love of Targaryen heraldry. Or the red queen Melyes'. If she is the queen who never was, she should remind them as to why. Her house is also huge in trade. We can’t forget that this is the daughter of Jocelyn Baratheon. She doesn't choose sides, she invokes the memory of Jaehaerys' reign itself.

Laenor Velayron

Baby Laenor

So baby Laenor doesn't have much of a place of court, but he is Corlys' heir and expected to be a man of the court. So I think he's dripped out like the heir of house Velayron but dressed for the court by Rhaenys. The combination of the best of both his parents.

Teen Laenor.

Locs grow in 5 years, they grow a lot more than they do in thos show and I don't know why Laenor didn't have longer locs. There is this duality that he can't reconcile his sexuality and what is expected of him, but I do think this is when he decides to play the part of an eligible bachelor. Even though he's still a Velayron, he's dressing more like his mom. Big and high hair. Robes and overall Westeros peak fashion. But also pretty boy loc styles. Setting the standard for Lord Consort.

Adult Laenor.

Okay, so this is the last part. We see Laenor in full dress once, maybe and never again. He's disillusioned from court and what is expected of him. He's dresses still like his position and represents his faction, but he longs to be somewhere he's wanted and belongs. He's isolated from his daily life and is trying his best. He's just a hollow placeholder for his former determined self. This is also the introduction of Velayron head scarves because they look cool.

Laena Velayron Targaryen

Baby Laena.

So, like everyone else, she is the set standard like her mother and dither. She is the richest lady in Westeros. She does her hair in different styles that seem to reflect the dresses she wears, and the dresses she wears communicate her want to travel like her father. When she is presented to Viserys, it's almost a gaudy expression of the house Velayron and heir wealth. With style cues of both Rhaenys and Corlys, her outfit communicates the potential reach of this alliance and all that is at stake. But her hair is still childish, and the style stifles her.

Teen Laena

Baddest bitch in Westeros is back with her revenge arc. Her hair has evolved but is still ever-changing with both twists that look like locs and hair styles that communicate a maturity from her. Every time you see her because eat this point you see her with Viserys and at the wedding she is looking like she's in a revenge dress. Her style is more adapted to Westeros with a love of Essos Fabrics and Patterns and corsets that look like the shipwright women of Driftmark. She is also now a dragonrider, so I think that adds to the confidence. She's also the most wanted match to have based on power along. Rider of Vhagar and the only daughter of the house Velayron. We never see her more true to her love of Driftmark. She revels in her wealth and power.

Adult Laena.

Two things. She's pregnant and she wants to go home. She's a traveller with Daemon, so I don't think she's going out of her way to dress in King's Landing fashion. That's not the way she misses home. She misses her mom, so she has high hair, still with twists instead of locs to symbolise her missing the men and blues and robes because she's in Essos, but she's a Velayron. Big jewels like her father and mother. This is her emulating her family because she wants them, wants her children to be familiar, this is Laena missing her old self.

Vaemond Velayron.

Uncle Vaemond is a Velayron man through and through. He'd have the smallest locs we'd see because he's on Driftmark and able to maintain it. He dresses in the colours of his house and in the fashion of Pentoshi traders. He's the most essos leaning man in Westeros you'd see outside of Dorne. He has the freedom of the second son and shows that off in his styles. He is of House Velayron and does not care to appease house Targaryen in their quests for expanding power.

Next up, we'll follow the style narrative of the young ones

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balbigalum · 1 year

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pairing: aemond targaryen/you

summary: i saw this ask in my inbox and when i went get it it was gone :( it was something along the lines of reader being a warg and attacking anybody who dares making fun of aemond after his accident

tags: they're both children, warg!reader, stark!reader for obvious reasons, short blurb

You weren’t sure when the dreams had started, maybe the same night you arrived at King’s Landing. You had been sent from the north to be a lady-in-waiting for Lady Helaena Targaryen, you felt frightened to be so far away from your family, you were only ten-and-one, yet there was already duty positioned on your shoulders. You did your best to behave as a proper lady but you couldn't help crying once you were left alone in your chambers.

The dreams always felt familiar, it was you and then again, it wasn’t, you found yourself exploring the Red Keep in these dreams, little passages and halls you didn’t even know existed, it was always dark and you’d always find people having conversations you shouldn't hear in these dreams, yet you stayed there, letting the whispers of succession and gossip surround you. You never felt quite right after those dreams, they made you even more anxious to be around the older lords and ladies, you recognized their faces from your dream. They appeared to be proper members of the court during the day, adorning themselves on expensive fabrics and sharing the sweetest ale money could buy. It was when the sun fell that their claws and fangs grew, their ambition making monsters out of them.

You learned to be wary of your surroundings, you never found yourself questioning which one of your memories were dreams and which were real, they were all weaved from the same thread, thread of red leaves and black crows.

A dark shadow fell on the Keep after the royal family came back from Lady Laena’s funeral, you weren’t sure what had happened, adult business was not to be learned by children… still the Keep wasn’t the same, it felt cold, an invisible hand gripping onto everybody’s throat, breathing felt suffocating.

You had caught a glimpse of Prince Aemond one late evening a fortnight after they had returned, his face, which once had appeared cherubic, pale and sweet following the valyrian tradition, had been slashed. An angry red path opened itself on the left side of his face, his eye forever closed. You had meet Prince Aemond a few times during the year you had spent on King’s Landing, he was shy young boy, respectful and careful in the way he carried himself, unlike his older brother, you had grown warm of him… even finding yourself lost enough on songs and daydreams to think that maybe your father could betroth him to you.

He looked like a ghost now, not only his eye lost but also any warmth you had ever felt coming from him. You had hidden yourself when he passed, it was late and you shouldn’t had been out of bed, your heart felt heavy looking at this ghost boy that once had been a promising prince.

Things weren’t the same after that.

The young prince stayed hidden away in his chambers, only ever leaving it in the middle of the night to meet with the maester or his mother, the people of the court noticed it. Whispers became arrows full of poison regarding the condition of the prince, the condition of his mother, the name Lucerys Velaryon danced around everybody’s tales. They spoke of Aemond like he was dead, some said he had lost both eyes, that he was forever crippled and that the crown remained ashamed of him, hiding him away to avoid tainting the family name; some others say half of his nose had been slashed with his eye, that he looked like a little monster and that he behaved like one too.

You found yourself feeling furious about it, wanting to speak in his name, to remind these people that it was their prince who they were talking about, your prince.

You kept walking, finding scent trails, feeling the fresh air on your fur. Some voices peaked your interest, a man and a woman, you wondered where they were. You let yourself be pulled in their direction, the voices getting cleared and clearer… They were in the godswood, laying on the floor, lost among blankets, whispers, and giggles.

The night was cold and the moon was full and fat, it reminded you of winterfell, dreams came pouring when you fell asleep.

You were on the training yard, you could feel every scent and every smell floating in the air, they felt like colours, colours you had never seen before, colours that could paint a picture never seen before. A howl ripped from your throat, a call, to the moon, to anybody that could hear you, quick enough other wolves and dogs joined you… They were too far away for you to go find them, lost on the kingswood that surrounded the keep.

Getting closer to them you could make out their words clearer, they were talking in hushed voices and interrupting themselves with kisses. They were discussing matters of the court. The man laughed, deep in his belly.

“He came to train today, the little brat kept his eyes down the whole time– I’m sorry I mean eye,” That erupted a giggle from the woman. “You should see him, Alayne, the king still demands us to train that cripple… He might as well be dead, he lost every fight today.” Was he talking about Prince Aemond? You felt a small fire starting in your belly, slowly spreading to your throat and you could feel your self growl.

"Your dagger, Marvyn, where is it?" She snapped at him, you could smell their fear, it felt blue and it was clouding your mind. Another growl thundering on your throat while you circled them slowly, you wanted to scream at them but the only thing that came out was a bark.

The couple finally set their eyes on you, the colour drained from their face, the man quickly stood up putting his hands up taking a non-threatening position, he was naked, the woman covered herself with the blanket.

"Down, boy," He said. "Away!" You weren't going anywhere. You leaped in his direction, your teeth sinking deep on his right arm. You could taste the blood, it tasted like rust in your mouth and you found yourself craving more. The woman ran away in search of help while the man screams tore apart his throat the same way you were tearing apart his muscles.

You let go when you heard more men approaching, they were carrying torches, the sight of the flames making you run away.

Next morning when you woke up you could taste the blood in your mouth still, wondering how much of your dream was only a mere dream.

You heard rumours of how a mighty lord had been attacked by a wild dog and how it had ruined his good arm. He had to abandon his place as master of arms and return to his castle somewhere in the stormlands. They say it took three maesters to stop the bleeding and that he could barely move his hand after.

Small stories like that kept appearing throughout the years, people who would speak ill of certain one-eye prince ending up attacked or mauled by some wild and nasty animal of the keep. After enough episodes nobody dared to speak bad of Aemond Targaryen, afraid of the dark forces he was summoning in his name.

#house of the dragon #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #anon #blurb

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an-abyss-of-stars · 1 year

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More Rhaemond babies!!

Baby #4

The Many Faces Of:

Valaena Targaryen

Valaena is the fourth born child of Rhaena and Aemond (I'm actually not sure what chapter she'll be joining us, I'm thinking this fic might get bumped up from 20 chapters to like 30 or 40? We'll see!) She was born a little over a year after the twins (Aemond's breeding kink has been unlocked by this point) she was happily welcomed to the world late in the night/early morning. She was born with vibrant violet eyes, pale golden/classic Targ platinum blonde hair, and slightly paler skin than her elder brothers. (I think facially, she actually takes after her late grandmama Laena mixed in with elements from both of her parents!)

Valaena (was named after her grandmama, Laena, as well as the name Valaena already holding deep significance in Velaryon culture. Rhaena wished to name at least one of their kids with a Velaryon name...she also had always thought the name was a beautiful one nonetheless). Valaena was a super sweet but clingy baby. I think she might've been even clingier than Aelyx was with mama Rhaena. In Valaena's case, she didn't care which parent was holding her, she just liked being carried everywhere. She loved warm cuddles, and she liked hearing her parents talk to her in Valyrian.

Valaena and (the next baby to come after her) were naturally very Valyrian coded, in that especially when they were babies/toddlers, they didn't like being around anyone who didn't at least look Valyrian. They'd always cry and throw tantrums if they woke up from their nap and their parents weren't around, or the nursemaids looked Andal or common. If Valaena and her younger sibling were causing too much of a fuss, Vaella would bring them to Aemond, she did it quite a lot, since he didn't mind having the babes sit on his lap during his petition hearings and whatnot.

Now ever since Valaena was born, Vaella was SUPER HAPPY about it, because she finally had a sister!! And it was mutual feeling, because as Valaena grew, she could be seen following her big sister Vaella around Dragonstone and the island towns almost always. Valaena just thought her sister was the most interesting person ever.

Nicknamed Val or little Laena (when Vaella wanted to push her buttons) (also Rhaena gets emotional every time she hears that nickname), her egg hatched in her crib, a hatchling from a clutch from Vermithor and Silverwing. A shimmering aquamarine/pale blue she-dragon with black tipped horns and sharp edged wings. Valaena would name her Qeldlie Kasta (Golden Blue in Valyrian) or simply Kasta for short.

Valaena was a good little girl, she didn't partake in the pranks Vaella and Daemion often planned. Instead she and Aelyx would happily sneak to library to read, or the gardens to play, and eventually Vaella and Daemion would join them there too.

Now unlike her hero big sis, Valaena never felt she had the coordination for training with a sword. Not for lack of trying, Aemond was very patient with his young daughter. But the day he found her in the training-courtyard one morning, sniffling and crying that "she'd never be as good as everyone else, as her other siblings," and that her kepa should just give up on trying to train her. Aemond had fought the urge to laugh at how dramatic his little girl was being, as he sat down beside her and folded her into a warm hug. He told her that he only wished to make sure that she was able to defend herself in the future, and besides that, swords weren't the only weapon she could choose from. In that moment, she was able to dry her eyes with her father's encouragement. And eventually she would discover she was quite skilled at aiming with a bow and arrow instead.

As Valaena grew into an adult, she grew to become a true Valyrian beauty. But unlike Vaella, she became very court focused. Where Vaella cared more about becoming a dangerous fearsome warrior like her papa, I think Valaena really falls in love with court life and really starts to take after Rhaena once puberty hits.

She loves dancing, she loves balls and feasts, she's very sweet and dainty actually! I think the majority of her personality as she grows older is far more like Rhaena than Aemond's or Vaella's. I think she wants to be just like her mama, and I think that realization dawns on her around age 12 or 13. She's hands down the sweetest of all the kids and the towns people of Dragonstone and King's Landing really love her!

Valaena would go on to become an excellent dragon rider of course, seen flying magnificently on the back of her beautiful pale blue dragon. She'd also become very proficient with her archery skills, but she wasn't fond of hunting, so she just liked aiming at targets for fun.

Once she came of age, she was HIGHLY sought after by many Lords! And unlike her elder siblings, she was happy enough to entertain her suitors. When her season starts, she returns to King's Landing to visit her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. She enjoys all of the spring/summer fetes and parties that take place during that time.

But while she's there, she catches the eye of a certain uncle, in true Targaryen fashion. Aegon The Younger, Rhaenyra and Daemon's second youngest son, who was once known as little Aeggie, has grown into a very handsome young man. And like his father before him, he's also become a rather chaotic ladies-man. He's reached the age of marriage, and while his parents may not have forced him into a political match...they have implied that it's time he settle down.

He's reluctant to agree, as once again, like his father before him, he'd only really want a Valyrian woman anyhow. He couldn't consider his nieces born from Baela and Jace, as he'd practically been raised with them and they felt far too much like siblings of his. And with Luke and Daenaera, of their three kids, they only had one daughter, and while she was only 13 years his junior...well...13 years felt like far too large a gap for him.

No, his options lied elsewhere.

It was a joke at first, he thought he'd court Valaena as she was the sweet courtly one that everyone wanted. She was innocent and docile, and originally he thought he'd have some fun corrupting her along the way...only of course that plan didn't exactly play out that way. He'd been away travelling for nearly 5years, he hadn't seen what puberty had done to her. From the moment he laid eyes on her as a grown woman, his entire plan was now skewed with the fact that he truly wanted her ALL to himself.

Queue MAJOR drama between him and Aemond, because daddy Aemond was not fond of watching the cosmic karma of his relationship with his own wife repeat itself now with his sweet daughter and his menace of a nephew! But that story will be told in full in the sequel fic!

❃ ❃ ❃

Hope this was a fun one!! I'm so serious about this sequel fic too!! I've actually planned out all of the ships for each of Rhaemond's kids!! I think I might make some relationship specific posts after I'm done posting all of the kids! Just so you all can see the art I've done for everyone! That way I won't have to go back and edit them into these. But I've also already made Baela & Jace's kids and Luke & Daenaera's kids as well! Characters that will be featured in the sequel fic!

But Valaena and Aegon III are 100% happening! I love the cosmic karma of it all! Daemon started by falling for Rhaenyra LOOOL! And then Aemond did it to Daemon by marrying Rhaena, and now Aegon's gonna do it to Aemond. Father of the bride is never happy in this family LMAOO

And I'll leave this here once again just in case!

Sidenote: when I do make Part 3 of this series, don't mind me if some of these details change when I do get to writing it. These are just my main initial thoughts for these characters now. But once I go into more depth with them, things might alter just a tad!

Rhaemond kids in order:

Vaella Targaryen (135 AC), Daemion Targaryen & Aelyx Targaryen (137 AC), Valaena Targaryen (138 AC), Naerys Targaryen (139 AC), baby #6 & #7 (142 AC), baby #8 & #9 (153 AC)

#aemond x rhaena #rhaena x aemond #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #rhaena targaryen #rhaemond #rhaemond kids #rhaemond babies #he saw her at daybreak #HSHAD #Valaena is the sweet babygirl of the family #she is SOOO Rhaena coded #like she cares about people's feelings she's an empath #Aemond's violent targ gene didn't touch her LMAOOO

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bitchfromtheseventhhell · 2 years

Text

i just threw this in a tag ramble on a rebagel but i feel like actually making it its own post for a hot damn second:

i love that this episode showed the ways in which daemon is the same (will murder without hesitation to get what he wants—in this case, faking laenor’s death by killing a comPLETE rando who did absolutely nothing wrong) and the ways he is not.

for someone who spent the first few episodes of the seasons having visceral reactions to his relationship with his brother, daemon is very non-reactive to viserys in this episode: he doesn’t really respond much to viserys’ offering of friendship and family; he observes but doesn’t intervene (until it looks like criston cole is gonna fuck shit up) in the big family fight on driftmark. by removing himself to pentos for ~10 years, by taking himself off the board in the game of “how do i get my brother’s approval oh no i don’t have it oh no that hurts oh no i’m gonna act out ok i’ve acted out how do i get my brother’s approval” he broke a cycle that kept him trapped and unable to change. for all i do believe viserys loves him (and loves everyone in his own way), i also think viserys doesn’t know how to handle the damage he does to people he loves simply by being king, and daemon is the early evidence/victim of that.

on top of that, for all laena may not have been the love of his life, i think it’s evident that he cared for her and loved her in his own way. he certainly loves their daughters (and i’m big mad they cut him comforting the girls after laena’s death like come on). it certainly wasn’t like rhea royce, who couldn’t stand him and who he in turn couldn’t stand to the point that he literally never was around her and ended up murdering her to meet his own ends.

he had 10 years away from the brother he couldn’t ever appease and away from a wife who was utterly justified in hating him, but who also still hated him. he removed himself from one major source of family toxicity and murdered the other which like...dude no, but also the impact of that was that he landed to some extent in a decent familial setup for a while.

and i think that helped stabilize him a LOT. he wasn’t the loose canon in this episode—not the way alicent was, or even criston cole was. he had to be invited to participate in the family fuckery twice before he went all in, when usually he was the source of the family fuckery.

which brings me to rhaenyra.

compare rhaenyra’s adolescent challenge that he steal her off to dragonstone to marry her with her as an adult pleading with him to be at her side in this episode. compare his fear of her challenge because of what it stood for in the face of the brother he could never appease (aka: do you really want me) with the adult version of “i both need and want you” that he got from a mother of three at odds with her stepmother who won’t be able to rely on her father’s protection forever. when she was 19 he brought her to a brothel to fuck her—a manipulative way to try to claim her from his brother (and i do believe he genuinely was confused by how much he cared about her, how young she was, and that she had unseated him as heir to the throne); as an adult he is holding back, waiting to see if this is what he wants, what she wants. as the post i just reblogged said, he has no expectations, no ambitions, no anything—except his own restraint.

he is being treated as an equal, for the first time in his life, by a targaryen and i imagine that’s a big game changer for him. and arguably, he is an equal for the first time in his marriage, despite rhaenyra holding a status he does not, because he and rhea rejected one another and while he and laena seemed to get on, he still had the power to say “no, we won’t return to westeros” and that was the final decision. but he doesn’t hold the final say anymore. he shares it.

which i think, given his relationship with viserys, whom he wanted to be trusted by but was also never stable enough to appease, was really all he wanted from the start.

#daemyra #hotd #hotd spoilers #disaster daemon #still a disaster but he seems to have matured #a matured disaster #a chill disaster #a slow burning tire fire rather than a forest fire #anyway really excited for him and rhaenyra to fuck shit up and make good and most importantly bad choices together!

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aboutdragons · 1 year

Text

the thing about dragons - chapter four

in which Lyra and Ancalagon go on a trip.

Dialogues in quotation marks are in Common Westron, in angle brackets in High Valyrian, in square brackets for other. Thoughts, emotions and emphasis are in italics.

Cross-posted on

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43121373/chapters/108369012

Scribblehub: https://www.scribblehub.com/series/699684/the-thing-about-dragons/

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/331546036-the-thing-about-dragons

◄○○○►

Read the Summary, Tags & Warnings as linked on the page to know what to expect.

warnings: bad life decisions, Otto doing Otto things, implied underage, runaways

wordcount: 8,960

Read the chapter under the cut.

The good thing about Driftmark being next door is that Daemon walks in with the invitation letter in the morning and they actually get there by lunch, and impose on the Velaryons while they’re at it. And Corlys did invite Daemon in, so it’s not like they’ll turn them away.

Though they didn’t expect them quite this soon.

And they certainly did not expect Ancalagon to be with them, who, sadly rather predictably, tried to eat Seasmoke and then got into a screaming (roaring??) match with Meleys who took offense at that. And while Meleys was only about a third his size, he did seem somewhat cowed by it, though not enough to back off. Only Vhagar rousing up and grumpily huffing at them made them stop, because even though Ancalagon did almost match her in size, he sure wasn’t keen on fighting a fight he wouldn’t win. Though seeing him backpedal the way he did was funny.

Rhaenys and Laena were very unimpressed by the display, and in all honesty, so was Lyra. Ancalagon got a severe dressing down for picking fights, and especially picking on smaller dragons, after which he went to sulk on the end of the island opposite to where other dragons currently nested.

Lyra didn’t even feel bad about that. If he wanted to chew some trees, she’d just be exasperated like with Rascal chewing her shoes, but the sooner she stomped out any inclination of his to attack other dragons, the better.

Thankfully, the only fight he picked after that was after Seasmoke purposefully goaded him into one. The younger dragon was smug about it only until Meleys got wind of that. Seasmoke was a very young dragon—maybe twenty, if that—with an even younger rider. He was bound to be a brat.

Caraxes at least seemed to enjoy the shitshow so there’s that.

○

“I don’t know what impresses me more, the fact that you claimed a beast this old at such a young age and survived, or the fact that he actually listens to you,” is one of the first things Rhaenys tells her. Lyra shrugs.

“I’m glad for both. I was only bedridden for one whole day!”

Rhaenys looks at Daemon critically who shrugs with a ‘what can you do’ face. The older woman sighs and shakes her head, slaps Daemon’s shoulder in disapproval.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same,” Daemon tells his cousin smugly, and she gives him a nasty look but doesn’t even attempt to say she wouldn’t.

Lyra just giggles at it.

○

Lyra has not interacted much with the Velaryons before.

Sure, they had a small conversation before Aemma’s death was announced, but after that it was just a flurry of movement and shock and sadness on their part, and bitterness and rage on Lyra’s, and then she was on Dragonstone and they were back at Driftmark, and that was that. She doesn’t even remember what they talked about at all. As far as she’s concerned, they’ve met, introduced each other, and left.

She remembers Laena being super nice but that’s all she’s got.

Now, however, as Daemon went off to talk with Corlys about one thing or another—most likely to end with Corlys conning Daemon to fight in the Stepstones and making it sound like it was Daemon’s idea all along, that man’s really good at that—she’s left sitting awkwardly in one of the drawing room with Laena and Laenor on the other side of the table. All adults are gone, and their only directive is ‘play nice’.

Laena is okay with this, Laenor—less. After all, she’s fifteen and he’s thirteen, and they’ve been suddenly saddled with some brat all of seven-going-on-eight after her father said she can take care of herself, therefore no need for nannies, and Rhaenys said they should spend some time together, because they’re cousins and they should get along.

It’s awkward as fuck.

“Sorry my dragon tried to eat your dragon,” Lyra says to Laenor, deciding she’s had quite enough of the silence. Of course, it’s about dragons; they’re half-Targaryen, both of those teens, with Velaryon blood coming from Valyria as well. Surely, dragons are a safe topic here. She hopes. “He’s old and feral and really mean and I only got him like, last week, so he doesn’t know how to behave yet.”

Laenor puffs up, doing his best impression of an angry kitten. It’s kinda cute, really; he’s still a little pudgy though his martial training is slowly but surely taking care of any baby fat left, and Lyra wants to pinch his cheeks for it while she still can. His face darkens with a blush while he’s at it, too.

“As long as he doesn’t do it again!” he says eventually. “How did you even tame that beast anyway?”

“I didn’t.”

“But—You’re his rider??”

“Yeah. But he flew to a hill close to the keep and kinda just… Sat there. Until I went to him. I didn’t tame him, I got chosen.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah. Is it weird? It’s like he was waiting for me. I mean—I’ve been having dreams before we left King’s Landing.”

“What kind of dreams?” Laena asks, curious.

“Green eyes and black scales is all I can remember. But I—just knew that this was my dragon. Did this not happen to you?”

“Uh, no??” Laenor says, leaning forward to brace himself on the table. “Well. A little bit? Seasmoke certainly didn’t wait for me, I had to find him myself. And he ran off a few times, and I had to bribe him with a cache of prime tuna.”

“Huh,” is all Lyra says. “And Vhagar?”

Laena crosses her eyes and inclines her head to the side. “Well, I kind of just—approached her on the beach? She threatened me but I stood my ground and I guess she decided I was good enough. At least, that’s the impression I got.”

“Well, her previous rider did punch Balerion in the snout.”

“Mhm. But she’s not… You know, as the last of the Conqueror’s dragons, I expected her to be a lot more bloodthirsty, but she’s only really just calm. It’s very reassuring to have that always at the back of my mind. Grounding.”

“Seasmoke isn’t,” Laenor complains. “Mother said it’s normal, since he’s a very young dragon. He’s very chaotic sometimes, and full of energy. I can never quite work it off myself. Great for waking up, but I can’t fall asleep without shutting down the connection some days.”

“That’s pretty normal I think,” Lyra says. “He’s a very young dragon. He’s like… What, twenty?”

“Mother says probably less, but definitely late teens judging by his size.”

Someone brings them snacks and tea, and they barely notice, too wrapped up in talking about dragons, the former awkwardness long forgotten. In the end, they decide to go try making the ointment Lyra wheedled out of Dragonstone Keepers, in enough quantity to be of any use for Vhagar.

○

It’s a mess and a half and Lyra’s sure Rhaenys will be very unimpressed with them, but they do successfully make a whole cauldron of the ointment after some math and creative thinking.

“You think that’s going to be enough for Vhagar’s wings?” Laenor asks. “She’s big.”

“We’ll see!”

“Ugh, seeing all this makes my arms hurt already,” Laena complains. “And all the climbing!”

“We’ll help!” Lyra tells her.

“No we won’t. Vhagar won’t like us close,” Laenor disagrees. Lyra looks at him.

“Bet.”

“Be—what??”

○

“This is ridiculous and you’re some kind of a witch,” Laenor declares, massaging the ointment into Vhagar’s fraying wings next to Laena who can’t stop smiling. Lyra shrugs.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t talk to her!” she huffs. “Vhagar is cranky, but she wouldn’t actually hurt us without a good reason, you know.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone can just talk a dragon into letting them come close!”

“All the more reason to get better at High Valyrian!”

“I’m plenty good at High Valyrian! And I really don’t think it’s just about that!”

Laena laughs at them. “But you could definitely brush up, valonquar! You’ve been falling behind on your studies!”

Laenor pouts at them both.

○

Driftmark, despite its closeness to Dragonstone, has vastly different climate. It’s warm and rather nice, and the weather is fine. Most likely due to the fact that Dragonstone was an active volcano, unlike Driftmark. There’s very little ash in the air, and the weather is normal; a little windy, mostly warm, and not nearly as suffocating. And while Dragonstone has its charm, Lyra quickly finds she likes it here better. It may be the clear sky, or the warmer weather, she’s not sure.

Or maybe it’s the tide pools, which fascinate her to no end; just pockets of clear, warm water on the shore, some bare and some full of seaweed and sometimes even fish.

It’s Laenor’s idea they go there, because he’s thirteen, and thirteen-year-old-boys like to show people the cool stuff.

They go swimming in them, and Lyra carefully does not think what the seawater will do to her hair. Some problems are best ignored in the heat of the moment.

Ancalagon flies out when they’re getting ready to swim, and returns sometime later, when they’re out of the water and hunting for crabs in the shallows, a whole whale clutched in his hind legs. He drops it from fairly low not too far from them so that it splatters only a little, and then circles the spot few times before landing comfortably and getting into his meal with gusto. Shore soon runs red.

“Huh, so he can be normal about feeding,” Lyra muses. “Good to know. Now he has no excuse for going after other dragons.”

“At least he’s willing to get his own food,” Laenor mutters, pushing his stick into crab’s claw and lifting it up once it latches on, shaking it off violently into his bucket. “Seasmoke learned to stalk the port where the fishermen will feed him. And he just keeps whining until we give him some tuna.”

“He’s spoiled rotten,” Laena chuckles, catching a fish with her bare hands in one of the shallower pools. “Vhagar hunts her own food, I saw her bring a giant squid once! But she mostly just sleeps.”

“Old people usually do,” Lyra says with a shrug.

“I suppose they do.”

○

Daemon makes a face.

<Sure Jan,> Lyra says absent-mindedly. <And I did not go swimming in the tide pools with Laena and Laenor.>

<It’s—I’m—Ugh. Fine, alright, he was very… Persuasive.>

<Yes.>

He looks away. Lyra doesn’t. <Where will I be staying?>

<You’re not mad?>

<…I’m not happy about it. But I get where you’re coming from, I think. Anyway, not Runestone. I’d rather eat my boots.>

<What?>

<Actually, I’m going to ask Rhaenys if she wouldn’t mind having you here. How does that sound?>

<Oooh. Yeah, I like that. Driftmark is fine.>

A beat of silence.

<Still, you need a bath after all that saltwater.>

<Shush, you say it like I’m not going for another swim tomorrow.>

Another beat of silence. Then, Daemon sighs and pulls Lyra into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as if she’s some oversized teddy bear.

<A little,> he admits. <But… I want to have something, you know? Someplace my own, if for no other reason than to give it to you after you’ve grown.>

<Dad…>

he says morosely.

<You say it like having a dragon, a sword, and clothes on your back and nothing more is such a bad thing,> Lyra huffs. <It’s not!>

<It’s uncertainty. It’s nowhere to fall back to. We don’t even have a home.>

<It’s freedom paid for in rejecting duty. And we have each other. That’s home enough.>

Daemon’s breath hitches as he buries his face in her shoulder. He tightens his grip on her shirt, the linen crinkling under his fingers. <You deserve so much better than such a lousy father.>

Lyra pats his head. <You’re a good father, though. And I don’t need castles and jewelleries and pretty dresses. A dragon, a sword, and clothes on my back sound just fine. In fact, I quite like the sound of that better than stuffy castles and parties and politicking.>

Daemon takes a deep breath, still shaky.

<Besides, it’s alright,> she says. <I know you. You thrive on bloodshed and violence. It wouldn’t be fair to keep you cooped up with me in some keep like that, just because I’m not strong enough to follow you yet. It was part of the reason, wasn’t it? The bloodshed.>

<Yes,> he admits easily. <And I’m realizing that it’s a shallow reason.>

<It’s not. It’s your reason, and that’s enough. Just… Just don’t get hurt, alright? I… I’ll live with the separation, but I don’t think I’d be able to deal with you getting hurt.>

<Mhm. I’ll do my best, but it’s going to be bloodshed.>

○

<You’re really not mad?>

<It’s the middle of the night. If you keep pestering me instead of sleeping, I will be!>

○

She’s not mad.

She is worried, though. And definitely a little upset, because up until now, she spent all her life with her father; even if he was busy, even if he went away for few days, he would come back soon enough.

Stepstones mean he’ll be out there for years, not necessarily able to visit, Caraxes or no.

Lyra doesn’t want to be clingy, but she isn’t sure she could deal with this kind of separation very well just yet despite her assurances to the contrary. The child lizard brain part of her was all but throwing a tantrum even since learning that Daemon was going to Stepstones for sure.

And sure, in the books and in the show both, Daemon dealt with it just fine. But this is neither show, nor books, but Lyra’s reality instead. And reality had a nasty habit of being unpredictable sometimes; and so, Lyra can’t help but worry anyway.

Going dragonriding certainly helps, and if she stabs the training dummy with more ferocity than usual… Well, they have more straw on Driftmark, surely.

○

There’s a woman in Driftmark that Lyra needs a moment to assign the proper name to from both her memory and the context. Her hair is black, peppered with grey, her eyes are very dark but shine purple in certain light, just like Lyra’s, she’s very tall, and in all honesty, she looks a lot like Rhaenys, just older. She wears Baratheon yellow but despite her attire, she seems very much at home at Driftmark.

Between the Baratheon colouring and the borderline inhuman Valyrian bone structure, the woman is certainly stunning.

Lyra decides the time it takes her—a whole week!—to realize that this is Jocelyn Baratheon, Rhaenys’ mother, is frankly embarrassing, even if they barely interact at all. Jocelyn spends most of her time in library or in the gardens, embroidering, reading, and in general, preferring peace and quiet to the racket that children and dragons can rouse up.

But, Lyra thinks, it makes sense why she would live in Driftmark with her daughter. Her grandmother was a Velaryon, and her daughter married back into them, and before that, Jocelyn was married to Aemon, Lyra’s granduncle. And with Jocelyn’s nephew, Borros, being… Well, himself, Lyra figures it really isn’t surprising the woman decided to move to Driftmark.

She figures she would too, if suffering Borros Baratheon’s continued existence was the alternative.

Still, they don’t really cross paths other than exchanging greetings at mealtime.

Maybe it’s for the better. She won’t admit it out loud, but Lyra feels a little cowed in Jocelyn’s presence. She has that kind of aura of not being willing to deal with anyone’s shit. Lyra respects it, and wants nowhere near it.

○

Rhaenys easily agrees to letting Lyra stay at Driftmark, and Lyra gets an impression that Corlys doesn’t get much say on the matter. It seems like he wants to say something about it—if Lyra were to make a wild guess, probably related to a certain huge black dragon harassing the Driftmark whale population and trying to rib Vhagar into a pissing contest as of recent, not that she’d know anything about it—but one look from his wife and he promptly shuts his mouth with a click.

Something along the lines of fostering Lyra for Daemon since Daemon will soon be out fighting Corlys’ private war in Stepstones.

Laena and Laenor are happy enough about the announcement, though. After getting over the initial awkwardness, they’ve begun getting along like a house on fire, despite the wild age differences between all three.

○

Lyra will admit, she kind-of lost track of time. Medieval era was in general much less organized time-wise, without clocks and widely-available calendars and alarm clocks. Days became weeks became months, and while she always did something each day—even if it was just cardio to keep building her stamina—the time just passed.

And then there was a commotion, and Rhaenys instructing Daemon to behave, and the Velaryons gearing up to leave for King’s Landing, and—right.

Viserys does need a new wife.

Lyra reaches out and squeezes Laena’s hand, the older girl looking at her. She has been progressively less happy in the last few days, and Lyra feels a bit stupid for not realizing why.

“It’ll be fine,” Lyra tells her, because—for Laena, it will be.

“You think so?”

“Even if he chooses you, between Vhagar and Rhaenys and Meleys and everyone else, he won’t have the balls to mistreat you like he had Aemma.”

Laena stills a bit. “Even if?”

Lyra’s smiles, a little strained. “We don’t know the future for sure, do we? And Viserys… Well, he’s a fool, and a coward, and a lickspittle, and he’s only assertive when it causes more harm.”

Laena narrows her eyes, but says nothing, but some creases disappear from her face, and her shoulders relax ever so slightly.

○

<He’s not going to pick Laena,> Lyra says later that day, after the Velaryons have left—Corlys with Rhaenys on dragonback, despite his insistence he’d get there by ship just fine—as she’s laying sprawled on Caraxes’ snout as the dragon naps. Daemon stops and looks up from where he’s been whittling a block of soft wood.

<Between?>

<And Viserys would be a fool to not marry her,> Daemon says, looking at the sky. <And… My brother has only ever been a fool.>

And that’s that.

Caraxes snorts and Lyra reaches out to pat him as a large shadow falls over them, followed by a small quake of Ancalagon’s landing. Caraxes looks up with interest, mostly at the giant squid Ancalagon has in his teeth.

<Go get your own if you want some,> Lyra tells him as she slides off his snout and walks to her dragon, guitar slung over her shoulder.

○

In the end, Viserys doesn’t choose Laena, five-and-ten, with the last Conquering dragon and whole Velaryon family backing her.

No.

Instead, he chooses Alicent Hightower; four-and-ten, daughter of a landless second son.

It’s the most foolish move he could have made in his situation. And there’s only one reason why he would have chosen Alicent over the significantly more politically savvy option that was Laena.

Lyra knew it was coming, but it makes her want to puke all the same.

She wishes she could just fly Ancalagon to King’s Landing and kill Viserys without it throwing the realm into a war of succession between Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Otto.

○

<Damned Hightower cunt,> Daemon spits out, pacing around the room. <Whoring herself out for power, just like her cunt father—>

<She’s a child,> Lyra snaps at him harshly, and he falters in his step, startled. He stops, and turns to look at her, eyes wide, because—he doesn’t think he’s ever had her anger directed at him, and now here she sits, looking at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. But now that he stops and thinks about it for a moment… Would Alicent have been able to actually catch Viserys’ interest on her own?

<She’s marrying my brother,> he says, but it sounds uncertain even to him.

<Otto has no doubt pushed her into that,> Lyra says, and he sees the anger simmering under her skin for what it is. The cold, disgusted fury that’s been running through her nonstop since the Velaryons returned.

<Otto is her father,> Daemon says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Lyra just looks at him. There’s very little in her eyes and on her face other than anger.

But—Surely—Surely not? Surely he wouldn’t?

Daemon decides very quickly that he does not like the implication of this. At all. In fact, he quite hates it. Viscerally.

Then the feeling of nausea comes when he realizes that this isn’t really a reach. That Otto Hightower, the man he knows, who works for nothing but his own agenda… Otto would.

He opens his mouth and closes it a few times, but it takes a moment before he finds his voice.

<Did he. Did he send her to him?> he whispers, voice shaking with anger. <Did he—She—Otto??>

<Yes.>

<Why?!>

<Greed.>

She speaks so matter-of-factly in her rage while Daemon feels like he’s falling apart. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t want to understand. All this talk of duty from Otto only for the cunt to turn around and fail his duty as a father—to knowingly, willingly, purposefully put his daughter in harm’s way for personal gain—

<And here I thought I couldn’t hate Otto any more than I already did,> he says with a hollow laugh.

<Mhm. I find myself greatly disliking Viserys, too. But then again, I’m in general hateful towards any man, anyone, preying on children, girls or no.>

<Mhm. Now add to that the fact that Alicent is four-and-ten, young mothers have much higher childbirth death rates than average, and Viserys has already murdered one wife in childbirth. Oh, and he watched Alicent grow up with Rhaenyra.>

The nausea returns with vengeance, this time directed at his brother. Daemon hates this. The revelation, the fact that he’s upset about Otto’s daughter, but his mind can’t help but push sinister little ‘what if it was Lyra?’ questions into his attention.

If it was Lyra, he’d kill his brother and run off to Essos with her, never to be seen again.

He hides his face in his hands.

<…yes.>

○

She really wishes she could do something for Alicent, but short of burning Red Keep down king included and starting a civil war, Lyra’s out of options. She hates it.

○

It takes time for everyone to settle, but for the days following the revelation, the atmosphere is certainly off, constantly on a pendulum swinging between anger and disgust.

The preparations for Stepstones continue as planned, though. If anything, both Corlys and Daemon are all the more determined to just go and fight. Lyra doubts either of them will bother attending the wedding. She doesn’t think she will either.

At least dragonriding still works to calm them all down. It’s especially picturesque during sunsets and sunrises, the sun paining the sky and sea in gold, orange, and purple.

○

Lyra turns eight shortly before they leave for Stepstones.

She and Daemon fly back to Dragonstone for the occasion, have a nice little picnic. When they get back to Driftmark, it’s to a small party just for the family. It’s—nice. The Velaryons certainly make her and Daemon feel more welcome than Viserys ever did, and their gifts are actually thoughtful. A solid, empty journal because Laenor wants her to compile dragon knowledge, a pretty hairpin studded with pearls, sturdy enough to stab someone in the neck or eye, a box with a lock and key to put previous trinkets into.

Even Harwin and Corren, and several other Gold Cloaks, send her a gift, though it arrives a bit late. Some sweets and a good quality shortsword with a sharpening kit.

Viserys sends her a doll. It’s a pretty doll, all things considered.

Lyra burns it.

Daemon gives her a stuffed toy. It’s a red dragon, a little wonky-looking, and Lyra loves it a lot.

○

Coincidentally, the day after her birthday is the day Lyra finally loses her first milk tooth.

<Burn it for good luck,> Daemon tells her as she tries not to think about the gap in her front teeth, and fails miserably.

<No tooth fairy?> she asks.

<What’s a tooth fairy?>

<Ah. No, we burn milk teeth for good luck in hopes new ones grow out strong and sharp.>

<Huh. Makes sense.>

She ends up having to ask Ancalagon for help because teeth don’t really burn at all, but in joint effort, they manage to burn it. Along with a good patch of the beach.

She picks out what glass there is among scorched sand and takes it to the keep. There isn’t really anyone who’s figured out how to make protective googles yet—not the kind that would allow her to see without breaking—but they use this glass for windows or jars at least. Lyra will manage without googles, as every dragonrider currently active does.

○

“You’re three-and-ten and you’re not going anywhere, and that’s final.”

“But I have a whole dragon!”

“Laena has a bigger dragon and she’s not going anywhere either! And neither is your mother!”

“Mother’s only staying because someone has to run Driftmark when you’re gone!”

And so on, and so forth. Lyra looks at Laena, and Laena looks down at Lyra.

“He’s not going to let him.”

“No. Laenor has been at it ever since he learned there will be war at Stepstones at all, father never budged once. I understand he wants to prove himself, but…”

“He’s a baby.”

“Pretty much. And so are you.”

“Well, I don’t want to go to Stepstones. Even if I have a bigger dragon than he does.”

“Wise.”

○

<Don’t let Triarchy ally with Dorne. Ally with Dorne yourself if you can.>

<What? Why?>

<Oh. That makes a lot of sense.>

<Duh. And Dorne might be receptive to it. Hopefully. Gods, this country is a fucking mess held together by hopes, dreams, and few dragons.>

<Barely. And not for the lack of trying.>

<Yes, Viserys is…>

Daemon doesn’t finish the sentence, but his grimace speaks volumes.

○

Now, Lyra isn’t a clingy person. It’s not like her to keep someone from leaving if they want or need to go. A goodbye and a promise to return is enough for her.

Daemon, though.

“Are you quite done yet?” Corlys asks, looking impatiently at Daemon who’s currently squishing Lyra into his chest. For her part, Lyra just lets him, dangling her feet above the ground.

“Just a moment,” Daemon says, not really making a move to let go. Lyra snorts into his shirt.

“Come on, kepa, you have to go.”

“I know. And I will. In a moment.”

“Okay.”

He lets go eventually, climbs up on Caraxes, and with one last wave, urges the dragon to fly. Lyra watches them go until they’re but a speck on the horizon.

“He’ll be fine,” Laena tells her.

“I know. But he’s gone to a battlefield, and I’m going to worry anyway. And I’m eight and we’ve never been apart for longer than a month, so he will worry anyway.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

○

Sleeping alone when she’s so used to sleeping with her father is a kind of hell for the first few days. The lack of Daemon-shaped pillow and heater and security blanket all in one makes Lyra fidgety, and unable to fall asleep. The silence unbroken by steady breaths and occasional soft snores rings in her ears uncomfortably. She falls asleep late and wakes up early, and remains cranky for the rest of the day. She can’t find a comfortable position, and the red dragon stuffy only provides so much comfort.

Day four, she decides she’s had quite enough of this idiocy, so she grabs a small cart, piles a bedroll and a duvet and some pillows on it and, red stuffy in hand, drags it all the way to where Ancalagon is coiled.

(Stuffy’s name is Smaug.)

It’s not the same—it’s a wildly different experience, in all honesty, because it’s just camping but with a dragon—but sleeping in the giant tent that’s Ancalagon’s wing-covered coil is the first good night’s sleep she has since Daemon’s departure.

Rhaenys isn’t exactly happy about the whole thing, but since Lyra actually manages to sleep, and Ancalagon provides both warmth and shelter from the elements, she lets it slide for a few days.

It takes a while, but Lyra is eventually able to sleep properly in bed, Smaug in hand, and not too much bloodstained linoleum in her dreams

○

Even though it can’t compare to staying on Dragonstone with Daemon, staying on Driftmark is quite nice. She can go dragonriding anytime, and Ancalagon has a whole beach to sleep on, Laena and Laenor are great company—she’s not quite Laenor’s level martial-arts-wise but she can give him a good run for his money, which is nice—and Rhaenys is a nice, stabilizing influence. Lyra even manages to kind-of make friends with Jocelyn. She thinks.

They read books in each other’s vicinity and even talk sometimes.

She misses her dad, of course, but she can’t deny she’s doing really well.

○

She starts telling stories, mostly to Laenor and Laena. Silmarillion, Hobbit, Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Then Harry Potter, but without all the dumb prejudices and imperialistic influences. Some Lovecraftian horror after Laenor requests something more sea-based.

Any story she can remember, really, and the Velaryon siblings can never get enough of it.

○

Vhagar’s wings look so much better with maintenance, and the old girl seems much more energized. For her part, Laena is thankful to actually have help taking care of a dragon this size.

Ancalagon is jealous, but Lyra always makes sure to spend time with him afterwards, so it’s all okay.

○

The royal wedding comes and goes and they don’t attend.

Lyra makes an effort to send Viserys a letter with a piece of coal attached. All she writes is ‘you’re a disgrace’ in High Valyrian, in neat Old Valyria runes. She’s not sure why, but it just feels like something she needs to do.

She never once saw Viserys as the head of their family anyway. She tried, sometimes, because he was the king, but her instincts would never let her. He was not their leader, and he was not their protector either. He was, at best, a stain on their name, wilfully making bad choice after bad choice.

Sheep ought not lead wolves; worms ought not lead dragons.

○

It’s been several moons since the royal wedding, and some more since Daemon and Corlys left for Stepstones, though not a whole year, when the stability Lyra found in her life on Driftmark crashes and burns.

There’s a gaggle of knights that come to Driftmark, dressed the same as those that followed Otto to Dragonstone when he came for the egg, though there’s a notable absence of Otto. Good for him; he’d have gotten fed to Ancalagon if he showed his scheming mug before her.

Instead, they’re being headed by a Kingsguard Lyra recognizes as Willis Fell.

Rhaenys welcomes them in the throne room, sitting on the driftwood throne. She looks like a real ruler, dressed in Targaryen black and Velaryon blue, with her black hair twisted into traditional braids. Lyra, Laena, Laenor, and Jocelyn all stand next to the throne, a little to the side. Several Velaryon cousins stood some ways off, looking at the knights warily.

Lyra has a bad feeling about this.

“What brings you here, ser Fell?” Rhaenys asks.

Ser Fell bows politely and pulls a scroll out of his bag.

“I am here by the orders of His Grace, King Viserys, first of his name. In the absence of her father, the Lady Daelyra Targaryen is to return to her lady mother in Runestone.”

Lyra hears static. Her hand is on the dagger hidden in her pocket before she makes a conscious decision to reach for it, and it’s only Jocelyn’s hand landing heavy but warm on her shoulder that prevents her from taking a step forward.

Rhaenys purses her lips, her fingers digging into the driftwood throne. “Daemon has personally entrusted us to look after her in his absence.”

“But she is not being fostered here, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Ser Darklyn steps forward and offers Rhaenys the scroll with a bow. “This is the Royal Order. His Grace is worried about his niece’s wellbeing. We will escort her to Runestone as soon as possible.”

Rhaenys takes the scroll, though if a glare could kill, Fell would have died at least five times over. The Kingsguard seems rather cowed by Rhaenys’ barely-contained rage, at least.

As for Lyra—Lyra is physically vibrating in a way that makes her feel weightless, clenching her fists so tight she can feel her nails break the skin of her palms.

This whole thing—this has Otto written all over it. Viserys is an idiot, but he would have been more than happy to let Lyra stay at Driftmark, not bothering anyone. The Velaryons are her family, Rhaenys even more so. Not to mention that the island had much better means of sustaining Ancalagon—Runestone may have been on a peninsula, but it was much farther north. Big sealife was not nearly as abundant there.

Lyra was willing to bet her whole arm that Rhea was not informed of the whole situation at all either, if only because if she was, she would have in no uncertain terms told everyone to shut up, fuck off, and let Lyra and her new pet keep-sized nuclear lizard stay where they were, away from Runestone.

Jocelyn pats her back, and Lyra looks up, and then at Rhaenys, who’s looking at her. Did she miss something?

“You will leave tomorrow,” Rhaenys says (or repeats, Lyra doesn’t quite care) though she doesn’t seem very enthused about it. She takes her promises seriously.

“Alright,” Lyra tells her. “I’ll pack up by then.”

Ser Fell looks awfully pleased with himself at this.

Lyra smiles at him sweetly. She can’t wait to see his reaction tomorrow—because if he thinks she’s going to dance to Cunttower’s tune, then he has another thing coming.

○

Pack, angry. Not safe. Bad.

Want to kill. Want to hunt. Can’t. Can’t cause trouble.

Father gone, can’t help.

Ancalagon unfurls and roars in anger that isn’t his own.

[It’s alright,] something whispers in his mind before he can start lumbering towards the keep. [I got this. We’ve got this. It’ll be fine.]

He settles unhappily.

[It’ll be fun.]

Promise?

[Promise.]

○

She’s fidgeting with a dagger in the drawing room when Rhaenys walks in, looking very tired and unimpressed with whatever bullshit follow-up to Fell’s dismissal was.

<You know, maybe it’s time a change in power occurs,> Lyra says conversationally, twirling the unsheathed blade in her hand. She’s not doing all that badly.

<No,> Rhaenys says in High Valyrian, and then pours herself a glass of wine. Jocelyn briefly looks up from her book, but returns to it soon enough. Laena and Laenor both continue looking between the two.

Lyra turns to Rhaenys, eyes wide and lip quivering, as perfect a picture of childish innocence as she can muster in the situation. She doesn’t stop twirling the knife. <But cousin, it’s only a bit of regicide and a little kinslaying!>

<Tsk.>

<Don’t click your tongue at me, young lady. No murder.>

<Gods, you really are Daemon’s daughter, aren’t you?> Rhaenys says fondly and shakes her head. <No, not even a little.>

<Fine. I hope Viserys chokes on his figurines. And Otto falls out of his damn tower.>

Rhaenys snorts at that before she can stop herself.

“Still,” she says in common, “I’m sorry, but you have to go. None may officially go against an actual Royal Order, though we must all agree, it is too much in this situation.”

“It stinks of Cunttower all over it,” Lyra says petulantly. “He’s using me to get back at Daemon by sending me to the one place neither of us wants me to go.”

“It’ll be fine!” Laena says as she sits down next to Lyra and pulls her into a half-hug. “I’d prefer if you stayed, but… It’ll be fine!”

“Of course it’ll be fine!” Lyra scoffs as she leans into the hug. “Because I’m not going to Runestone.”

Everyone turns to her, even Jocelyn.

“I cannot let you stay here with the Royal Order issued,” Rhaenys warns.

“I know,” Lyra says with an innocent smile. Rhaenys eyes widen with realization.

“You’re eight,” she says, standing up in agitation. Her children look at her in confusion. “No, you—It’s too dangerous!”

Lyra just keeps smiling.

“What’s going on?” Laenor asks.

“Your cousin seems to be just as wild and reckless as her father at a much younger age, is all,” Rhaenys huffs. “Nothing I say will dissuade you, will it?”

“Not unless I can stay here, no,” Lyra says, and keeps smiling.

“You know what they say about Targaryens and insanity,” Jocelyn muses. “Because this certainly sounds insane to me.”

“What sounds insane??” Laenor asks, agitated. “What’s going on?”

“Lyra’s going to Stepstones,” Laena says and squeezes her shoulder. “Aren’t you.”

Laenor turns to look at her, eyes wide. “But—There’s a whole host of knights there?”

“Yeah, and?”

“And—They’re trained knights! And you’re tiny!”

“I am!” Lyra agrees. “But Ancalagon is not.”

○

“It’s not fair,” Laenor whines, starfished on her bed and Lyra folds her clothes and shoves them into a bag. “How come you get to go to Stepstones, and I don’t?”

“I don’t want to go to Stepstones, you dipshit,” she huffs. “I’m going there because I can’t stay here.”

“Can’t you just go to your mother to Runestone?”

“And what? Get assassinated by one of the many aunts and uncles around?”

“They wouldn’t!”

“Well, they sure as fuck don’t like me enough to try!”

“But Ancalagon! And Daemon!”

“Ancalagon can’t get in the keep and prevent an unfortunate fall down the stairs, and Daemon’s in Stepstones. Which is why I’m going there.”

“It’s still unfair.”

“Says you.”

○

The perks of being an eight-year-old girl is that people who don’t know you just don’t take you seriously, and certainly don’t suspect that you might be trying to ditch them.

Ser Fell and the knights certainly don’t suspect shit, allowing Lyra to run wild unhindered for the entire evening. There’s much to do, and many things she needs, but a resigned Rhaenys, her devilishly delighted children and an oddly supportive Jocelyn make quick work of it all.

○

“Uh,” Ser Fell says, looking at the mass of black scales on the beach that makes Ancalagon. “That’s… Certainly a beast. Are you—certain that you must put all your luggage in the saddle?”

“Yes,” Lyra huffs, dragging a big backpack with her.

“We can put it in the carriage—”

“But I need to take my dragon with me anyway, so what’s the point?”

“…alright, have it your way.”

○

She spends her evening writing letters, checking and double checking if she tagged them properly. One to Rhea, for Rhaenys to send. One for Viserys and one forOtto, for Fell to take back with him so that he doesn’t go back entirely empty-handed.

One for Daemon, though she suspects she’ll get there faster than the message, but it’s as good a backup as any.

With Laena’s help, she carries more conspicuous items to Ancalagon; a bedroll, a full waterskin, enough rations to last her the way there and then some.

Perks of having a big dragon with a big saddle is that he carries all her gear with room to spare.

At night, she decides to have a sleepover with Laenor and Laena. They make a pillow fort with blankets and all, and tell stories until they fall asleep. In the morning, they eat breakfast together, and Lyra puts on her riding leathers.

Map: check. Rations: check. Money, clothes, bedroll: check.

Giant flying nuclear lizard that makes her plan possible in the first place: double check.

Rhaenys’ disapproval at her ridiculous plan: triple check.

Confused knights who have no idea what’s about to happen: also check.

She’s ready to go.

“Are you truly that much against going to Runestone?” Rhaenys asks again. “You would truly rather fly to Stepstones, on your lonesome?”

“I promised my mother she’d never see me again,” Lyra says, lacing up her boots. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

“You truly are every bit your father’s daughter.”

“Well, yes. I’m more surprised you’re going to let me do this, really.”

“I considered trying to stop you, but with how strong your bond is with that beast of yours, there’s no guarantee he wouldn’t break the keep open like a mussel to get to you.

“Mmm, true enough. He most likely would.”

Rhaenys sighs. “Exactly. And trust me—if I could escort you, or send Laena with you… I would. But going against the Royal Order—”

“You need to think of your house first,” Lyra says. “I understand. It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel guilty about it.”

“That won’t make me stop feeling guilty about it,” Rhaenys sighs. “I can neither stop you nor help you—”

“Nonsense!” Lyra scoffs. “You gave me all my supplies. That’s help enough.”

“I meant more in the way of flying you to the Stepstones to make sure you got there safely. You will not make it even halfway there before nightfall; Ancalagon is too big to fly for long, he’ll need to rest. It’ll take you at least three full days to get there.”

“I’ll sleep in Ancalagon’s coil, under his wing, like I did right after Daemon left. It’s warm and safe there. Trust me cousin, it’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re eight,” Rhaenys says flatly in lieu of ‘you have no clue what you’re doing, you feral baby’. She’s not necessarily wrong.

“And I have a giant dragon, basic hunting skills, and a map. I’ll be fine.”

Rhaenys still looks like she wants to argue, but she shakes her head instead, muttering about fathers and daughters. Lyra rolls her shoulders to make sure her leather jacket lays well on her shoulders and wraps a scarf around her neck and mouth.

It’s go time.

○

“I still think it would be better if you took the ship with us,” Ser Fell says, looking at Ancalagon with uncertainty, more on edge as the dragon, now unfurled, seems much more active than when he seen him before.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself, then,” Lyra tells him coldly, “because they’re rather useless to me.”

“My Lady—”

Lyra shoves letters to Otto and Viserys at him, and he catches them on instinct as Ancalagon rears up and begins crawling towards them.

“What—”

“Deliver those to my uncle and his Lord Hand later, would you kindly? I have a dragon to attend to.”

“At a later—Wait—My Lady?!”

Nobody is willing to approach Ancalagon as he looms over them but Lyra, who skilfully scales the ladder up to the saddle and begins rolling it up.

“Apologies, fellows!” she hollers down, fastening herself to the saddle, “but those letters are all I have to you as I fly to join my father in Stepstones! You can tell my uncle king to shove his royal decree up Otto’s ass whence it came from! Ancalagon, sōves!”

Ser Fell’s face circles through several funny emotions and she can’t help but grin as the realization dawns on the Kingsguard as the massive, tar-coloured beast rears up and lumbers past the alarmed, screaming knights, taking to the sky with powerful wingbeats knocking up dust and sand, and Lyra cackles appropriately maniacally as Ancalagon turns South.

Fuck Runestone, and fuck Viserys, and fuck Otto especially, with a red-hot iron stick. If she can’t stay at Driftmark like both she and Daemon wanted, she’ll join Daemon in the stepstones. Neither of them will be happy with the fact for the exact same reasons, but Lyra is not going to Runestone.

Not with the persistent nagging feeling at the back of her mind that tells her that Runestone would have been just as dangerous, among the Royces who see her as an intruder. In Stepstones, she’ll at least have Daemon to fall back to.

She turns around and watches Driftmark grow smaller and smaller behind them as Ancalagon gains altitude, bursting through the clouds to soar above them as they fly towards the sun. She turns forward, reaches out to pat Ancalagon’s back where she can actually reach it.

<I’m glad I have you, buddy,> she says quietly. <Or I’d have been fucked back there.>

Ancalagon rumbles in agreement.

Together, safe.

<Yeah. Thanks.>

○

It’s, in a way, an exciting road trip, really.

Now, despite how haphazard her departure might have been, Lyra does in fact have a plan. And a map, and money if she needs it, and knives, and even a bow with some arrows. And, most vital of all, she has Ancalagon.

It is, all things considered, a very simple plan that consists of nothing more than ‘get to point Z, rest, repeat until destination’.

Get to Sharp Point because she had about halfday of daylight left, camp there for the night. Get to Bronzegate on day two, then to Crow’s Nest on day three, and then to Greenstone on day four. That left crossing the Sea of Dorne at its narrowest point on day five, and then she’d be in Stepstones.

She would have to skip Bloodstone, though, and fly a bit farther south past Grey Gallows to Shipwreck Key—and it was nice to have a map with all the islands named to be sure—because that was where the Velaryon fleet was stationed currently.

Lyra knows that having a simple and sound plan for her trajectory backed up with actual map-pointing and asking for non-perishable provisions was a big reason as to why Rhaenys even considered letting and helping her go do this. Either that, or Rhaenys knew that if she let Lyra go with Ser Fell she would have executed her plan anyway, just much less prepared.

She was not going to Runestone, thank you very much.

○

In a way, it’s a bonding experience that Lyra knows they will both treasure going forward. Just them and the wilderness; a rider and a dragon on a road, setting up camp Ancalagon can coil around and she can play the guitar and sing songs from a world over, as she waits for her food to cook.

They avoid settlements and the big keeps, camping far enough away from any people that they’re not bothered by anyone. She doesn’t want to deal with any well-meaning lords and ladies who would impede her progress, she just wants to be in Stepstones already.

…

Okay so they take a whole day’s worth of detour at the edge of Rainwood, what of it. It’s a very pretty forest and Lyra likes it there, so they just camp and rest and sunbathe the whole day.

She even manages to catch a young deer with barely-there horns with a well-placed lucky shot in the lungs. It takes her a while to drag the thing back to where Ancalagon can get to where the trees are sparse, but she does. Skins the thing clumsily, roasts a whole leg to eat.

Ancalagon gets the rest though it’s not even a mouthful for him, but it’s the thought that counts because he’s very happy with the fact that Lyra hunted something and they got to eat it together, like a pack is supposed to do. Even if his only contribution was scaring the deer half-to-death with his presence, it still helped.

○

Long time no contact, mother.

I’d have preferred it stayed that way, but my uncle king and his cunt of a Hand forced me to do something drastic. I don’t know if you’ve heard by now, but Daemon and Lord Corlys Velaryon have left for a campaign to take the Stepstones from the Triarchy and secure better maritime trade opportunities. In the meantime, I have been staying on Driftmark with my Velaryon cousins, but uncle king decided to take offense to that, on the behest of his Hand no doubt, and ordered me to return to Runestone to you.

I’m certain that you were not contacted prior to the making of the Royal Order, because I know very well that you’d have vehemently rejected the idea, as you want to see me as much as I want to see you, therefore I did us all the favour of rejecting the order myself but ditching the knights and flying south to Stepstones on my dragon. By the time you get this letter, I will most likely have arrived there.

I have a dragon now. Twice the size of Caraxes; trust me, you want him nowhere near Runestone. And he goes wherever I go, always. So, you won’t want me near Runestone either. Which is good! Because I don’t want to be near Runestone.

If I could ask you for this one thing to do for us both, I’d ask you to write a letter to the king. Explain to him that you want me nowhere near Runestone. Say you’ve disinherited me, that you and Daemon are living separately to begin with. I don’t mind being disinherited, actually. I don’t want Runestone, I rather hate that place. Pick some cousin to have it.

Don’t worry, I’ll deal with Daemon. He doesn’t really like Runestone either.

Your misbegotten spawn,

Daelyra Targaryen.

PS.: We asked about the divorce, uncle king said no, you probably heard. Worry not, we’ll try again at the earliest convenience. We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.

Rhea huffs, reading the letter in the scrawly script, and turns to look at the servant standing by her side.

“M’Lady?”

“Bring me my stationery. I have a letter to write.”

“To your daughter?”

“No,” Rhea scoffs. “To the king, in case he tries to send her my way again. We ought to cull bad ideas before they become problematic.”

○

Ancalagon lands not too far from the encampment and Lyra kicks the rope ladder loose and makes her way down. By the time her feet touch the ground, Daemon is already almost there, still in full armour and seemingly straight from the battlefield, eyes wide, and completely uncaring of Ancalagon’s disapproving growl to his approach.

Lyra dusts her pants, rolls her shoulders, and walks forward to meet him midway.

<Hi,> she says. <It’s been a while.>

Daemon pends down and picks her up in a tight hug, smushing her face uncomfortably against his chestplate. <You’re not supposed to be here, Little Flame.>

she says and pats his shoulder. <But Otto and Viserys tried to send me off to Runestone. What was I supposed to do, go there?>

Daemon nods sagely.

<—but it’s better than Runestone. But you’re staying out of combat at all cost, you hear me? You’re much too small to go fighting anyone seriously.>

<Sir, yes sir.>

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #targaryen oc #daemon targaryen #the cannibal dragon #caraxes #rhaenys velaryon #laena velaryon #laenor velaryon #the thing about dragons #ttad #isekai #reincarnation

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