#women in essos
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There is an enduring sense in the fandom that if you cannot structurally change the entire or major parts of an oppressive status quo, it's somehow better that one does absolutely nothing. Bc you're "messing up the stability of an already stable social order, which proved itself to be the best or most reliable bc it's endured for so long".
And I despise it. Because it essentially means that any effort except a huge, topsy-turvy one where the whole system gets upended or severely so doesn't matter. (At the very least those that don't seem like it.)
It's a perfect partner to racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. & people use it not just against Rhaenyra but Dany, Rhaenys, & Alysanne!!! Any Targ woman, really. Aegon V, if one mentions his laws. Ironic, bc Jaehaerys had progressive laws for peasants ONLY bc of Alysanne, but it's obvious why they prefer the female-heir denying Jaehaerys over Aegon V!!!
Coupled with this sense, some say that these women are totally complicit in those systems bc use they happen to be born into royalty or aristocracy, actively use their privileges at times for their own ends instead of ALWAYS to create or influence others for groundbreaking policies & laws, or manage to just escape certain abuses other women face bc they were reserved for the specific task of having children for their male spouses.
Daenerys was a bridal slave, for example. She doesn't face SA from random men every other night, but that doesn't stop the risk of her facing that fate if she were to ever fall out of her husband-owner, Drogo, favor. That doesn't stop her haters from arguing that she should have done more for Mirri & those Lhazareen women, that she even profits from slave labor when she clearly is allocating and directing funds from taxes to the city of Meereen! From ignoring how all those she freed are not still slaves, that the slave masters time and time again have said, point blank, that she is a danger to their enterprise CONTINENT-WIDE!!! She makes mistakes and the biggest one compromising too much with the slave owners of Meereen, yeah, bc she is in the beginning of her leadership journey, and still she manages to inspire loyalty, faith, and hope in many of her followers and she also still manages to keep most people alive w/o actually giving all the way in and that terrifies the slaveowners! For good reason. Read the last few pages of the last book and tell me that she won't come for their necks, either literally or figuratively idc. She's obviously not fucking up so bad or has totally failed in her role as a protector, and she will make mistakes as other leaders before her and after her will! Why this level of negative & bad faith scrutiny?!
And let's go to Rhaenys the Conqueror. She created the rule of thumb & the rule of six, where no man could legally beat their wives to death when she decreed that the rod could not be thicker than the husband's thumb and he could not whack her more than 7 times. Some argue why didn't she outlaw wife-beating entirely if she and her siblings conquered Westeros. First of all, these are the very same people who bleat abt how the Targaryens destroyed and colonized Andal culture without bothering to offer material evidence of such. If Rhaenys & her siblings actually have "colonized" the Andal-FM lords, & it was Andal custom for men to beat their wives indiscriminately…then the Targs couldn't have actually destroyed any part of Andal "culture" and replaced it entirely with Valyrian ones where seemingly men could not beat their wives at all! If you can even consider this "destroying culture", as I'm sure a few would argue. If anything, this was a cultural compromise, and it obviously functioned and was intended as a form of protection for women when before there was absolutely none! Aside from male relatives, but that's not system-wide, makes such cases seem not serious enough or that people across communities shouldn't care too much about others when you personalize it, AND that just reinforces the idea that only men have a property claim over women, be they biologically family or by marriage. Secondly, if you argue that Viserys should have obeyed the "laws" of male primogeniture bc he is a feudal king--the "Protector" of their customs and interests--that is only supported by the swords & loyalty of lords, that the GC of 101 proves that (as if Jaehaerys also didn't use that to enact his own will passively for a male heir), then why is it that Rhaenys seems to do something along those lines and WORK with the current Andal customs, her efforts--which actually are protective to those who needed protecting!!! Rhaenys & her siblings were new monarchs of a newly unified-ish realm, & as unifying conquerors tend to do, they opted for the strategy that would keep them seated bc it made "the lords" comfortable that they would not force them to change the bulk of their religious and cultural practices. Not only did Visenya & Rhaenys arrange strategic marriages that both benefited them and those married (their families), but Aegon made it a point to go on progresses and hear various lords and peasants' issues to arbitrate. Which made it so that these lords felt they would not be led by a leader who'd enforce his laws willy-nilly without considering his subject's conditions or desires. It is in this context that Rhaenys, we could see and assume, was taking a bit of a risk with not one but 2 new laws against men's "rights" over their wives' bodies!
There's Alysanne, who took it a step further in her women's courts, and the right of first nigh abolishment, her attempts at the Citadel, & the Widow's Law. Again, if not for her, Westeros and KL would be 3 steps behind in infrastructure and women's protection. Alysanne was a Queen Consort who had even less power on her own than Rhaenys & Visenya and we see that she had to convince Jaehaerys to implement his laws; it took Septon Barth's interference/support for Jaehaerys to even go along with the abolishment of the right of first night! Later with Viserra, I believe that she arranged the much older Theomore to Viserra bc it coincided with Jaehaerys' plans for that marriage alliance between the Manderlys and the royal house. And to please or to go along with some of her husband's plans was to also add onto her own power…bc a royal Consort only has power by their monarch spouse gives them license to influence and status! Was it clumsy writing? Of course, it was pretty bizarre and partly due to how F&B is written as a historical document despite how this portion of history is better documented than others. Did Alysanne indirectly cause Viserra's death in her refusal to relent from her suspicion that Viserra was trying to become queen, as she interpreted it? Arguably. and I think that GRRM was telling us that over time and over the disappointments w/Jaehaerys, she slowly got more determined to retain any sense control…and where does her control end up coming from? Yeah, GRRM is showing that tightrope, I think.
Rhaenyra was not actively progressive in policy nor direct action as all the prior 3, but to argue that she should be feminist so that the usurpation and the femicide done against her becomes unjustified is absurd! Oh, she wasn't a feminist at all or progressive, she didn't implement any sort of law at all for women or smallfolk [did Aegon?! or Alicent?! or Aemond? Daeron, Otto?! so why are they better?!!!], so that's why she shouldn't be queen even though by the very "law of the land", she is by right the heir to this throne that never actually was about who would make a good, consummate ruler in the first place. 🙄.
So there is a vague & un-discernable, forever shifting, & impossible goal-post-level of feminist activity or "being" that these nihilistic or conservative naysayers use against women being leaders or even passively having positions of power that may still benefit the women of Westeros through setting a precedent &/or actions of necessary intervals that build on the past ones under conditions that are already limiting how much they can do or say in order to be able to put forth those feminist (really proto feminist), anti-slavery, etc., progressive steps--on a damn psychological and psychosocial level that:
diminishes how much brain power and time a woman can put to policy or things outside of the "house" because their power depends on the husband's regard towards them
makes it much harder for women to really commit themselves or fully expect to implement their goals & dreams for any sort of change (or even dream of any) when there's such subtle and unsubtle obstacles in their way: Rhaenyra, her stepmother an siblings plotting against her and then the usurpation, that we see in the microcosm of how the treasury stolen from her and the crown led to the smallfolk turning against her at KL AND the ongoing war, thus preventing her from really establishing herself as Queen/ruling at all; Alysanne, I described with Jaehaerys; Rhaenys, Andal patriarchy; much less, in Rhaena the Black Bride's case, find just actual happiness and plain old security against male aggression!
provides a setting where women become more compelled to compromise with some patriarchal ideas/practices to maintain a certain level of power or defense (there's a thing line to measure and transgress the "right way" and without other's judgement and impatience or lack of faith adds an additional pressure of, outside of fiction but applicable)
leads up to Daenerys having to have the strength to pursue her goals on with her own instincts and compassion and wit, work harder than most men would face in her position...not that any could since men cannot and have not largely had the bridal slave’s experience!
Anyway, all of it ignores or tries to hide the fact that it is exactly that undisrupted male authority over female (of any class or wealth) & under-classed people that is the true destabilizer and destroyer of lives. That there is still so much meaning and real impact in what people like Alysanne and Rhaenys did/do and huge upheavals or entire sweeps of structural change like Dany does takes measured steps!
That through multiple Targ women dying form childbirth, raped, murdered, or sidelined and critically limited in political authority or agency, this becomes so obvious! you cannot oppress half of your population, reduce them to sex-giving broodmares who you can kill if you think they have a male heir on the way or have cheated on you and call yourself progressive! You're actually 10 steps behind where you're supposed to be because half of you is not involved enough in the development of your society!
We wanna be all "feudalism is bad", "blood purity is bad", "the Targs didn't end feudalism so they are the most evil and responsible for all evil in Westeros" but when they see someone either passively or actively seem to make any progress to mitigate the pressures and power of patriarchal boundaries or concepts or whatever....they go screaming "not feminist enough" or "they're actually just like everyone else"! And some of us will also try to say that Daenerys is either entirely too much like her colonist ancestors or she will end up that way as D&D published because she is Targaryen (a bio-essentialist argument) to argue about why SLAVEOWNERS should stay in power!
And it all is very anti-intellectualism, anti-critical thought or introspection and examination...because on closer look and investigation, you will see how F&B is a text that was always anti-misogyny on GRRM's part (attemptively) even as it is misogynist as an-in world text! And it's on purpose--both the writing and how people wax "it's a dragon show, nothing at all to do with misogyny or wokeness!"
Because then you are not challenging the status quo...because you can't reason through it or against it and when it happens in seemingly harmless manifestations people will think it innocuous.
#women in westeros#women in essos#daenerys stormborn#daenerys targaryen#daenerys stormborn's characterization#alysanne's chaarcterization#rhaenys the conqueror#rhaenyra targaryen#rant#asoiaf rant#westerosi women#essosi women#asoiaf slavery#daenerys in slaver's bay#fandom critical#fandom misogyny#character comparison
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I like Victarion chapters because the subtle symbolism in the rest of the book becomes overblown and blatant. It's as if GRRM is trying to tell his own character how stupid he is.
I like Victarion chapters because he honestly thinks he's better than the slavers.
I like Victarion chapters because despite sailing Essos his entire life he doesnt know who the Dothraki are. They're simply to far inland for him to care.
I like Victarion chapters because he's more concerned with how many ships he has than the fact his arm is now a smoking tumor.
I like Victarion chapters because of Victarion's relationship with the Dusky Women. She's his forth wife, he tells her everything, he doesn't even attempt to find out who she is. Is her mind empty? Is she anything anymore? Is her body just an empty vessel for Euron?
I like how Euron is warging the Dusky Women so he can get fucked by Victarion.
I like Victarion chapters because he's too stupid to realise the dusky women is poisoning him.
I like Victarion chapters because he's too stupid to realise Moqorro is using him to get to Slavers bay, nothing more.
I like Victarion chapters because he's the first POV character to understand and utilise blood magic, but he's too stupid to use it for anything but sailing ships.
I like Victarion chapters because he's too stupid to realise that he can just turn the Iron Fleet around and declare war on Euron. Who are they going to follow, the captian they've known for years or the weirdo with blue lips?
I like Victarion chapters because he's too stupid to just swallow his pride and rule with Asha.
I like Victarion chapters because he's stupid enough to think he can outsmart Euron.
I like how Victarion hates the monkeys so much. Long after they leave his ships he's still seething over them.
I hope Victarion becomes the beloved King of Meereen after he smashes the siege and puts all of the Great Families to the sword.
I hope the Dusky Lady kills Victarion Greyjoy in his sleep.
I like how Victarion is what Ironborn society sees as the ideal man, and he is therefore a walking indictment of the Ironborn.
I like how by the end of ADWD even Moroquo, the death cultist who worships fire, is fearful Victarion.
I like Victarion chapters because he's the one character you can't make excuses for. He's not an anti hero or even an anti villain. He's a stereotype of a viking who's too stupid to realise that being a terrible warlord is making him feel terrible.
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Lil Travel Bag
#valar morghulis#house of black and white#akatsuki#game of thrones#naruto#naruto shippuden#masashi kishimoto#george r r martin#house of the dragon#boruto#button pins#backpack#faceless women#essos#the village hidden in the leaves#the hidden leaf village#travel bag
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Helaena is precious and deserves the best, which just happens to be us 😌
All I see is facts!!!
#claire sweetie#worms on a single string#mootooals 💖#asks??? in my establishment???#helaena is beloved not obly by the smallfolk but all of us queer women#on my way to snatch her and leave for essos immediately
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the Targaryens having hooked noses,,, noses with a pronounced bridge,, GENIUS
#i want them w tanned skin. purple eyes insane hair i want the women tall and the men short i want HOOKED NOSES#hotd#house targaryen#from essos right? techincally?? give me ethnic features NOW
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Make Your Hands Unclean
Aemond x Wife!Reader - Period sex drabble
Premise and bits of dialogue shamelessly stolen from The Borgias.
Contents: drabble, pure filth. Menstrual sex, p in v, anal touching, graphic imagery. Internalised misogyny and harmful attitudes towards menstruation. Aemond is an asshole. Porn with weird plottish vibes.
Words: 2300
idk what this even is, this thing kind of wrote itself and I just went with it. It is kind of a mess tbh.
You were supposed to marry a lord.
That is what you were raised for, and those are the skills you were taught. To sing, to dance, to play the harp; to make yourself look pleasant. Your septa taught you to sew, and a woman from Essos taught you to weave, and in the afternoons the maester taught you history and linguistics, astronomy and arithmetic, and other things that ladies rarely speak about, but nevertheless must learn.
For it is the lady, not the lord, who runs the castle. Who manages the household, and oversees the people it employs. Such a lady must ideally be both kind and commanding, generous and frugal. She must know how to handle serfs and noblemen alike, and she must be proficient in numeracy; able to record expenses and perform difficult calculations.
To be a prince’s wife requires no such skills.
This castle already has two queens, and besides it is not for royal women to concern themselves with practical matters. There are ladies-in-waiting for that, and stewards, chamberlains, maids and matrons; an army of servants hundreds strong to ensure that you may always be spoiled and idle. More than a lady, but less than a queen, left to twiddle your thumbs and wonder when, if ever, the oppressive walls of Maegor’s Holdfast will begin to feel like home.
You do not like it here.
The days are long in King’s Landing, and the air is foul, polluted by the smoke of ten thousand hearths, by the stench of filth and unwashed bodies. It seeps through every crack and crevice, and you like the early mornings the most, when a cleansing mist blows in from the sea, and the ship’s bells ring over Blackwater Bay.
Your husband rises early too, though it is for different reasons. Prince Aemond adheres to strict routines, to noble pursuits and rigorous discipline. He is exactly as people say: a stoic, severe in both temper and countenance, condemning indulgence and deriding depravity.
Yet for all of his moral posturing, he does seem to have developed a taste for it rather quickly.
You couldn’t say the exact number of times the prince has had you, but it has been many, and often, and in every position imaginable, and you dutifully report it all back to your family. As they have instructed you to do.
Before you were sent off to the capital, you were relentlessly reminded that there will never again be an opportunity such as this. That a marriage to a royal prince is a rare honour for your family, and one that was only made possible because the crown finds itself at war. Your house is not a great one, and your father is not the noblest lord, but he is very wealthy. And on the field of battle, wealth does tend to triumph.
You do not know what other promises were made, what lands or titles were negotiated. Only that so much now depends on you; on your ability to please your husband and give him healthy children. Preferably male, but even a daughter would markedly strengthen your position. So you play your part as best as you can , and you pen your secret letters, divulging all the details of your intimate affairs. That the prince sleeps with you frequently, and seems to find great pleasure in it. That he performs his movements to completion, and expends his semen inside your body.
It is a grave responsibility to have on your shoulders, and you were utterly crushed when you woke to find your insides churning, and your sheets stained with blood.
They will be most displeased, your mother and father. Your brothers and uncles, and your cousins too. Prince Aemond's seed has not yet taken.
-
In the evening he knocks on your door. Two determined raps, and you are thoroughly surprised. Your maid will have told his mother of your ailment, and she will have told him, and he too must be disappointed. But you know it is the prince, for there is no one else who would visit you at this hour.
You know very well what he has come for, too.
“We can’t tonight,” you sigh.
“And why is that?” he says, amused, as if the idea that you would refuse him is ridiculous.
“My blood - I am bleeding.”
Prince Aemond hums, but he walks to your couch and begins to undress himself, unbuckling his doublet and unlacing his breeches, tugging off his boots while you wring your hands.
He can’t be serious. He can’t mean to take you like this.
“It’s not - it isn’t proper,” you protest. “Our maester said it is ill-advised - most men find it unclean - “
“I am not most men,” he scoffs.
There is no arguing against that, and he says it with all the confidence of someone who knows it to be true. Aemond is a royal prince. A dragonlord, a scion of a greater people. Second to no one but his king and brother, and if he wants to get himself all bloodied, then you suppose that is his right.
He rids himself of his undershirt, and you reluctantly move to the side to let him join you in bed. It isn’t proper, but your insides flutter when he pulls you against his naked body, letting you feel the warmth of his skin, his manhood against the back of your thigh. It is hard, and twitching when he runs his hands over your figure, your breasts and your stomach, your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs -
“No, you mustn’t - ” you squeak, but he rucks your gown up anyway and slips his hand in between your legs.
You are wet there, with blood as well as with desire, and you can feel the stickiness when he spreads your lips, curving his fingers and sliding them back and forth along your slit. His breathing is hoarse just from caressing you, from feeling your wet, your warmth, your little swollen nub begging to be touched. You whimper when he circles it with the gentlest of strokes, light and teasing, until you arch your hips up in frustration and breathe oh please.
Prince Aemond likes it when you beg. Only then does he press down, but not enough to bring you to a peak. Just enough to make your insides tighten, and more blood gush from your womb.
You always did find it strangely beautiful, the blood of your cycle. Deep maroon, and scarlet red - but you are ashamed to see it coating the prince’s fingers when he withdraws them. It is thick, and clotted, and he takes a moment to study it before he wipes his hand clean on your shift.
“Are you not displeased with me?” you whisper. He should be, given that you have failed to conceive. That there is no way of knowing if you can bear children at all.
“One mere month is not cause for concern,” the prince says.
You breathe a faint sigh of relief. It is a comfort to know that at least your husband doesn’t hold your failure against you - yet.
He tugs on your shift, eager to expose your body, but you cross your hands over your chest.
“Let me keep it for tonight,” you plead.
You can’t rid yourself of the thought that you are unclean, and you would feel so much more at ease if he didn’t see your heavy, aching body. But you don’t want to entirely deny him access to it, either. Seeing as you are bleeding, the chances of begetting a child are small, which means that his wish to sleep with you must come from genuine desire rather than obligation. And that makes you very happy, as you imagine it would any wife.
You will make sure to include it in the next letter you send back home. Hopefully it will lessen their disappointment.
The prince looks somewhat displeased, but he lets you keep your dress, resorting instead to bunching it up around your waist. He is stern, but never cruel to you, even if he does pull at the neck to bare more of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, and then his hand moves downward again, and you throw your leg over his hip to give him more room to touch you.
This time he does it properly. His fingers find your pleasure right away, and he swiftly brings you to your rapture, impatient as he is to have you. It leaves his hand stained and tainted, and once again he wipes it off on your shift, but this time you don’t care.
With the position you’re in, it is easy for him to crawl over your leg and take his place between them, and he kisses you as he presses against you, deeply and hungrily, rocking his hips, his manhood throbbing and leaking between your legs.
Your parts are soaked, but he is careful when he pushes inside. Despite the prince’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, he must not know all that much about a woman’s blood, at least not in practical terms. Where it hurts, and how much, and whether this intrusion will make it worse. You can’t hold it against him - you don’t believe there are many scholars who would want to write about the topic, and how then was he supposed to learn?
“Harder,” you pant, and he obliges, moving faster and pushing deep inside.
You let him find a steady rhythm, hooking your legs over his hips, and letting your hands wander over his body while he has his way with you. You stroke his balls, imagining that what he keeps inside will take root in you. You pinch his nipples, all hard with pleasure, and you slide your hands down to his lower back, to the base of his spine, where the skin is dusted with downy hairs. Where you can feel each of his thrusts; the rolling movements of his hips, the rhythmic clenching of his buttocks.
Your dainty touch makes him shudder, and you move your hands to his arse, and then further still, slipping your fingers in between his buttocks. To where he is warm and tender, and where his skin starts to pucker.
It is filthy, the way he twitches there. The way he throbs. A dirty place to touch, and a sinful thing to do, but you have found that the prince likes it. No added pressure or attempts at entry, just gentle strokes with the tips of your fingers. Soft caresses over his opening.
He buries his face in your neck and groans, and you can feel that he is nearing his peak. His movements are fast and shallow, his chest heaving and slick with sweat.
“Yes, my prince,” you whisper. “Fill me with your seed, put a son inside me - “
He likes that. He hisses loudly, gripping the headboard for purchase, and you look up at him when his hips stutter. Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar.
He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening.
You lie still as he peaks, allowing him to rut into you wildly, groaning and grunting as he spills his seed. Hot, and wet, and adding to the mess inside you. He lies limp on top of you to catch his breath, and when he finally withdraws, the blood is everywhere. On his softening organ, on his sack, and crusted to the soft hairs on his thighs.
“I’ve made you dirty,” you state.
“Yes, you have,” he says. “In more ways than one.”
You look the other way to give him some privacy when he rises to tidy and dress himself. On your wedding night he stayed with you until the morning, and he has done it a few times since, but it is not a common occurrence. Prince Aemond prefers to sleep alone, and your mother chastises you for that too. She says that to rouse a man’s desire is less than half the battle, and that you must make your husband love you.
Of course if it were really that simple, then there would be no unhappy marriages and no children born as bastards, and if you knew how to make a man fall in love, you would be the richest woman in all the world.
But you must at least try.
“Won’t you stay with me?” You ask. “It is - important, for a woman to be embraced - to be treated gently, afterwards…”
“Next time, I will,” he says. And that is the end of that, for you will not stoop so low as to beg for his company.
He smoothes out his shirt and pulls on his breeches, and you sit up and comb your fingers through your tangled hair. When you look down there are stains on your sheets, and a thick rosy fluid trickling out between your legs.
“You may want to abstain from riding,” the prince says over his shoulder. “It is known to upset the balance of the womb.”
You nod, bound to obey what is clearly a command posing as a suggestion.
“Did you know,” you muse, “that the blood of the womb is the only blood that is not born from violence?”
Prince Aemond looks at you with a thoughtful expression, one that suggests he had in fact not considered that before.
“Quite the philosopher you are,” he remarks, with a little raise of his brow. Coming from him, that is the highest praise.
It does not change his mind about staying, but he does press a noble kiss to your temple before he leaves you. Sore and bloodied, but content.
You did well tonight.
Notes
“Most men find it unclean/I am not most men” is from S1E7 of the Borgias.
“Menstruation is the only blood that is not born from violence and yet it’s the one that disgusts you the most” is a quote by artist Maia Schwartz. I couldn’t find any more information about her unfortunately.
Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond smut#aemond x you#aemond targaryen#hotd fanfic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic
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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬
Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.
Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon
Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair
>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come
>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby
>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon
>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard
>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago
>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace
>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe
>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it
>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen
>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon
>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful
>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter
>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth
>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard
>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned
>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father
>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation
>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk
>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"
>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you
>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill
>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk
>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently
>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you
>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you
>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne
>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother
>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting
>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto
>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you
>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers
>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you
>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively
>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor
>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs
>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother
>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him
>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed
>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you
#yandere hotd#yandere targaryens#yandere aemond targaryen#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere rhaenyra targaryen#yandere Jacaerys Velaryon#yandere aegon targaryen#Yandere Aegon II#aegon ii x reader#yandere Haelena Targaryen#jacaerys velaryon x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd x reader
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How They Mark You
Pairings: Aegon ii Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen
Warnings: nsfw, bruises, female reader, mentions of pregnancy
Aegon ii Targaryen:
Aegon leaves marks on your skin. Usually hickies, but sometimes he’ll lightly bite your skin or leave marks that resemble fingers.
Aegon makes it obvious that you’re his.
He is openly affectionate with you in public. And there have been multiple occasions where a servant has walked in on you two being in certain erotic positions.
And though Aegon purposefully doesn’t purposefully do this, he usually leaves your clothes ruffled after dragging you away throughout the day to make out with you or more.
Daemon Targaryen:
Daemon gifts you jewelry. He’s given you necklaces, rings, bracelets. He loves to see you wear them.
At times, he’ll reach out to grab them so he can fidget with them.
Loves to leave hickies on you. Especially in places you can’t hide.
Daemon smirks when he hears you complain about how long it’ll take you to cover the marks he left on you.
Rhaenyra Targaryen:
Rhaenyra is more subtle about how she marks you since you’re both women.
Wherever you both go, she makes sure that your arms are interlocked with each other.
Or her hand on your back, gently guiding you to wherever she wants you to go.
Rhaenyra, like Daemon, will buy you jewelry —usually necklaces — to mark you.
Rhaenyra loves to leave hickies on you, though she does so on places that are easier to hide.
Aemond Targaryen:
The way Aemond marks you isn’t in a way that anyone else but you both would know.
Aemond buys dresses for you.
From Dorne, Essos, anywhere you’d like.
Your wardrobe is full of them.
He loves to see the clothing he’s bought cover your body in a way he can’t.
When you’re pregnant, he’s quick to buy you more clothes to fit you.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x fem!reader#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader
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VI. Fury
Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader (unrequited love), Alicent Hightower x Velaryon!Reader, Larys Strong x Velaryon!Reader
Series masterlist
Part 6 of this
I still can't believe writing more than 5000 words, there were times when I thought this would never come to light and it frustrated me so please give it a lot of love and let me know what you think of this chapter 🥰💖💖
As always comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading 💖
My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.
When the Queen was informed that Harwin had been seen leaving your chambers in the middle of the night she felt her heart skip a beat. She was afraid that for some reason you had decided to forgive your husband for his indiscretions with the princess and give your marriage another chance.
When it was time for lunch that Alicent, Larys, and you had, there was no need for the Queen or Larys to ask you about your husband's sudden visit because you told them yourself. Harwin offered to help the twins put to sleep and you accepted because you were tired Alicent instantly offered to hire more maidens to take care of the children at night so you could rest but you refused saying that you didn't want other women to take care of your children. While you were saying that Alicent couldn't help but notice that you were looking askance at Larys as if you were expecting a reaction from him but she thought it must have been her imagination because when Larys changed the subject you didn't seem disappointed or upset. Unfortunately, the Queen's worries did not disappear throughout the meal so when you left to go spend time with your sister and mother she shared them with Larys.
"I'm afraid that he will once again occupy a place in her heart," the woman admitted, clasping her hands under the table. "What happens if he convinces her to give him another chance? What if she leaves us?" As she spoke, she took off part of the cuticle of the thumb. If her father was watching her he would be scolding her. She knew it was a horrible habit but the anxiety she felt at the thought of losing you was too great. Alicent wouldn't know how to live alone as your friend again, not now that she had tasted what true love was. No one cared about her like you do.
"You heard her, she only let him stay because of the children" the man reminded her as he poured them both more wine "She will never forgive him" he declared and the Queen was envious of his trust. Larys must have noticed that her concern was great because she added "Besides, she will never leave us, especially you. She always seems to want to kill Criston Cole for daring to breathe the same air as you."
Alicent hurriedly brought the wine glass closer to her mouth to hide her smile. Larys' statement had to upset her, after all, Criston Cole is one of the few people she trusts and she should be upset that you want to hurt him, but instead, she managed to calm her down a little.
But Alicent's worries soon grew worse as the days went by because Harwin kept coming to your chambers and the worst thing was that now the two of you with the twins were walking around the castle together. At first, Larys wasn't worried that Harwin would spend time in your chambers after all you made it clear that you were only using him to babysit the twins. But now Larys felt sick every time he saw the four of them together at court. They seemed like a happy family. Aethan shouldn't look so comfortable tied against Harwin's chest with one of the special clothes your mother had ordered for you from Essos, and you shouldn't look so calm when Harwin's hand is on your back while you hold Alyn. You should move away every time his brother kisses your forehead but you don't. You're never the one to initiate the physical contact but Larys still doesn't like it, he's not sure if you're really not pulling away because you don't want to make a scene or because you're bonding with Harwin now that he's spending so much time in your chambers.
One day Larys reaches his limit. You, Alicent, and Larys are eating together again but the man instead of joining the conversation you two are having is too busy thinking about the image of Harwin with his hand on your back again while you were both talking to some Lord and how later his brother left the conversation but not without kissing you on the cheek before leaving.
"Why do you let Harwin spend so much time with you?" he suddenly interrupts your conversation with Alicent. She looks at him surprised but at the same time seems grateful for him to dare to question your closeness with Harwin since she would never do it for fear of upsetting you.
"I told you he's just helping me with the twins," you replied, frowning at his rude interruption.
"You shouldn't be depending so much on Harwin to take care of your own children."
"Larys" Alicent's intention was a reprimand but he could detect the nerves in her voice and her eyes.
Larys knew he said the wrong thing when he saw how your eyes seemed to spark and how you abruptly dropped the cutlery.
"Our" you corrected him. "And maybe I wouldn't be depending on Harwin so much if you took charge" you spat every word like it was poison.
"We should take a moment of silence before saying something that we regret," the queen proposed in an attempt to calm the waters as she tried to take your hand but you pushed her away and barely looked at her.
"It's not fair. We both knew that when you got pregnant the child couldn't know the truth" Larys said, appearing calm, not wanting to let you see that your words bothered him.
"Of course, they won't grow up knowing the truth but you're not even trying to help me" you crossed your arms. "Even Daemon and Rhaenyra seem more interested in them than you," the bitterness in your voice was clear.
And the only reason for that was because they both wanted to fuck you but Larys wouldn't tell you that because it would only make your anger worse so instead he told you the reason for his distance.
"I stay away to avoid making people suspicious"
Not wanting the court to suspect him of being the father of your children was not the only reason for his distance. The truth is that Larys had no idea what to do with the twins. He saw the immense love you had for children. Not just you, your parents and your siblings too. Everyone seemed to love Alyn and Aethan from the minute they saw them but he didn't. Of course, he was worried about their safety the second you announced to Harwin and Lyonel that he was the father. He didn't want anything bad to happen to them but he wouldn't say that he loves them and he's sure they don't either, especially Aethan because the few times he carried them, they became instantly agitated and cried demanding to come back to you. Their crying made his head hurt and he's sure it made your head hurt too so he stayed away thinking it would save both of you the stress of hearing the children scream.
"People think you're their fucking uncle, no one will suspect that you spend time together. You're family." It was obvious that you were dissatisfied with his defense by the exasperation in your voice. "And don't tell me that you're afraid that someone will realize the truth because Aethan has the same eye color as you because months went by and no one said anything. So stop being paranoid and spend time with your children" You got up from the table "I'm sorry, my queen, but I lost my appetite and I have to continue with my duties"
Neither Alicent nor Larys had any doubt that you were angry but you confirmed it when you left without even giving them both a measly kiss goodbye.
"You have to fix it," Alicent ordered, looking at him furiously. "If we lose her because of you..."
"That's not going to happen," the man interrupted, throwing his napkin at the table angrily. "I'll fix it."
Of course, after that argument, Larys couldn't allow you to get even closer to Harwin so that same afternoon he sent you a message through one of your maids. He asked you not to allow his brother to come to your chambers tonight because he was thinking of coming to see you. In the middle of the night, Larys entered through the secret passage that had your chambers hidden behind one of the paintings. A snort left your mouth when you saw him appear with a small bouquet.
"If you think I'll forgive you because you brought me flowers, you're wrong," you warned him but your anger shouldn't have been so great because you didn't leave his side when he sat next to you on the bed, in the middle were the twins lying awake. Face up they seemed entertained trying to turn around on their own. Larys was relieved that neither of them burst into tears when they saw it.
"I'm not stupid to think that, I know your character.," he said and extended the bouquet to you waiting for you to take it, you looked at it doubting whether to take it or not "It see like someone wanted it more than you" he commented when you saw Alyn stretch out her small hand as if he wanted to touch one of the flowers. "Do you mind sharing?" you shook your head and couldn't help but smile when you saw him remove a flower from the bouquet to give it to Alyn. You hurriedly pulled another flower from the bouquet and gave it to Aethan before he got jealous. "I will get better at this parenting thing. I will come at night and help you take care of them" he wanted to see your reaction but his attention went to Aethan when he saw him put one of the petals in his mouth so he moved the flower away from the baby making him squeal. Not wanting Aethan to start crying, he gave him the flower again but he had to take it away because he put the petal in his mouth again.
"Why does he want to eat it?"
You laughed as you saw the frustration on Larys's face because every time he gave the flower to Aethan he kept wanting to eat it and then squealed when Larys pushed the flower away. But he wasn't a squealer like when he was about to throw a tantrum, it was one of the ones he did when he played with you or your brothers.
Alyn must have also thought his father was making a funny face because he joined in with your laughter.
"I'm sure that at first the color of the flower caught his attention, but now he just thinks that he's playing with you," you reassure him. "Larys, I want actions, not just empty words. I want you to be there for us," you asked, returning to what your lover had said before.
And Larys showed that he was serious. He started coming to your chambers in the middle of the night to help you with the children. You noticed that at first, he seemed to struggle when they cried but after you taught him that skin-to-skin contact helped calm them down and told him that talking to babies helped too, Larys seemed to handle it well, although the first few times you had to stop yourself from laughing at how uncomfortable and lost the man looked because he had no idea what to talk to babies about. You had to tell him to stop thinking about it so much and just talk. Larys didn't make silly voices like Laena, Laenor, or Harwin but Alyn didn't seem to mind because he happily responded to his father with babbling. It didn't take long for Aethan to join in as well because she didn't want to be left out of the "talk."
You will never forget Larys' smile when for the first time he was greeted by Alyn's excited screams as soon as he saw his father enter your chambers. You feel happy with all this development, not only that but Larys also starts to join you during the day, of course not every day, but sometimes he happens once at the nursery with you or they meet by "chance" with you in the gardens and show the twins the flowers together. Even Princess Helaena joins you a couple of times but she soon loses interest in the flowers and entertains herself with the bugs she finds on the ground. At those times Larys and you have to make sure the twins don't try to put any insects in their mouths.
Everything seems to be fine again...Except for Harwin, who feels displaced when you no longer allow him to spend the nights in your chambers and starts seeing you and Larys together during the day. Harwin knows that he should be happy with the fact that you no longer seem to hate him and with the rapprochement that the two of you had during the time that he helped you with the twins. You don't seem angry when you meet him at nursery, nor do you reject him when during the day he insists on spending time with you and the twins. You don't even yell at him when he proposes that Jacaerys join the four of you. He should settle for that but he can't. He just wants to get your love back.
You should not have been surprised when one of your maids came to inform you that your husband was in the princess's chambers. You didn't expect that now that you could stand his presence and have the occasional civil conversation with him, he would magically forget about Rhaenyra. You weren't stupid, you knew he was still seeing her but you hoped he would at least have a little respect for you. You couldn't believe he dared to be in Rhaenyra's chambers while she gave birth. People were already talking about you three but this would only make it worse. You didn't think they could dare to humiliate you any further, at least at the birth of Jacaerys, Harwin hadn't dared to do this.
Fury took over your body. You ignored your maid's calls as you strode out of your chambers.
You felt the blood in your body heat up, noticing that you were getting closer to your destination. You couldn't stop thinking about your hands around Harwin's neck. You wanted to kill him. But you couldn't do it. If you kill your husband you will not go unpunished and you will suffer some punishment, your death, or your exile, and the last thing you want is to leave Alicent and Larys. So you'd have to settle for making a scene.
If Rhaenyra and Harwin wanted attention then you would make a damn spectacle. Tomorrow there wouldn't be a single person who wouldn't talk about you three.
When you finally reached your destination you abruptly opened the doors making as much noise as possible. You entered, leaving the doors open with the intention that anyone who passed by could hear you. You found Rhaenyra lying on her bed with Harwin kneeling next to her and holding her hand.
All eyes were on you, Laenor looking at you with fear, the midwives tensed while the princess and your husband looked at you with pure surprise. For a moment Rhaenyra thought that you would be at her side and accompany her while she gave birth.
“I tried to get him away from her,” Laenor said quickly, from the corner, seeing the fury in your eyes not wanting to be on the receiving end of it. Not when he had struggled to obtain your forgiveness.
You ignored your brother and headed straight for Harwin. One of Rhaenyra's handmaidens thought you would try to hurt the princess so she tried to stop you by standing in front of you. You barely bothered to look at her before pushing her in Laenor's direction. Your brother, as you expected, caught her before she could fall to the floor. The screams of the other maids irritated you even more. You hadn't even put all your strength into the push, of course, they had to be just as dramatic as Rhaenyra.
“What are you doing here?” with every second that Harwin passed in silence you felt your fury grow even more, the worst thing was that he didn't seem to have any intention of separating himself from the princess because he was still holding her hand. “Why does a sworn shield need to be here? “You questioned but again you didn't get any response causing you to lose what little control you had “You can't protect her from the birthing bed, you idiot! You shouldn't be here! Do you understand how humiliating it is for me, for my children, that you are here?!” As you spoke, you raised your voice more and more to the point that you ended up shouting, you were sure that at least your complaint had been heard by anyone who was there. will be found in the hallways. You were sure that from today the court would be sure that Harwin was the father of Rhaenyra's children.
You saw Rhaenyra flinch, you didn't know if it was because of your screams or because she was having a contraction. You didn't care anyway, she did this to herself you thought. If she were smarter she would not have gotten pregnant by your husband again and much less would she have allowed him to accompany her during her birth.
“She needs me,” said Harwin, looking at you with pleading eyes, hoping you would understand, you should, you know Rhaenyra and you know that she is afraid of childbirth after everything her mother suffered.
“Harwin, we're leaving,” you demanded.
Harwin loves you but he loves Rhaenyra too so he couldn't leave her alone right now, not when she knew she was scared and needed him.
“No,” he said painfully, knowing that the little process he had done between the two of you would be forgotten. Now you would get angry but then he would work hard to win you over again.
Your dragon blood or your Baratheon blood had to have taken over your body because suddenly your hands were on your husband's scalp. Years ago you had caressed his curls tenderly but now you found yourself pulling him with all your strength, if he wasn't willing to get out then you were willing to drag him. You would embarrass him in front of the maids and anyone in the hall.
Harwin quickly let go of Rhaenyra's hand to prevent you from ending up dragging her with him. The princess didn't know what to do as she watched in shock as Laenor grabbed you by the waist and tried to pull you away from Harwin, but you didn't give in, your hands seemed to be clinging to him. All Rhaenyra could do was shake her head as one of her handmaidens approached the door ready to call the guards and silence the rest. The last thing she wanted was to get you in trouble.
“Please, sister, let go. Please,” Laenor asked desperately. He feared that at any moment a guard would walk in and you would end up having an audience with the king for disturbing the princess in the middle of her birth and attacking her sworn shield. The worst thing is that he saw you capable in your state of the fury of telling Viserys to rot for pretending not to know what was happening right under his nose, how his grandson was a bastard: "It's not worth getting in trouble for them. Please release him. If the king and queen find out about this…
He stopped talking when he watched you loosen your grip on Harwin carelessly causing his head to hit the floor. Laenor couldn't help but grimace at the noise. He had to have pushed you away instantly because you once again grabbed Harwin by the hair, lifting his head and then slamming it back onto the floor. This time when you let go, Laenor took the opportunity to lift you up and left Rhaenyra's chambers with you on his shoulder while you shouted curses in Valyrian.
They hadn't even reached the end of the hallway when Laenor stopped, a few seconds passed before he put you down. But you understood his reaction when you saw his father standing in front of you. He was looking at you angrily and again you felt like you were a little girl getting into trouble running away from your babysitters. Laenor must have felt your anguish because he took your hand and intertwined your fingers like he used to do when you were children and you were both scolded, not only that but he put his body in front of yours.
"Did you expect me to stand by and do nothing while they humiliated me?" you questioned your father once he finished scolding you and Laenor. During all of Corlys's talk, your brother didn't let go of your hand and you loved him more than ever for it. He could have avoided witnessing this, he could have left you alone but he didn't. Your brother wasn't to blame for your attitude but he was still scolded for not being firm enough to stop you before making a scene. You were sure that if Laenor had excused himself, your father wouldn't have bothered to scold him later.
"You humiliated yourself," he declared. It didn't matter that he had been ranting for what felt like hours he was still angry.
His words were like a slap. Unconsciously you tried to make yourself smaller in your seat as you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. He is your father, he should be on your side, he should be furious with Rhaenyra and Harwin, not you. He should be shouting and defending your honor. But instead, he's yelling at you.
You remained silent without knowing how to respond, feeling small, pathetic, and humiliated under your father's gaze. Not being able to take it anymore you lowered your head looking at your lap. You didn't like feeling like this, you hated it.
You loved your mom. It was a silly and childish thought but if she were here you believed she would take your side. She may not agree with your actions but she would never make you feel this way.
"Tomorrow the whole court will be talking about how you lost your mind, entering the princess's rooms and beating your husband," your father said making you feel worse. You had wanted to make a scene to get people talking but you thought it would be to your benefit, you thought the court would side with the poor faithful wife but maybe your father was right, maybe in the end you would be the one who would end up badly. Perhaps Rhaenyra and Harwin would not be the ones to make the Velaryons the laughingstock of the court but you. The pain in your throat worsened at that thought. "What if this reaches the king's ears?"
"That will not happen, Father," you were surprised by the firmness in your brother's voice. "Despite the distance between my sister and Rhaenyra. The princess still has great esteem for her and does not want to get her into trouble with the king. If Viserys decided to act and punish my sister that would only encourage people to talk more about the true paternity of Rhaenyra's children" he said as he gave your hand a squeeze hoping to get you out of whatever was scheming in your head knowing that it wouldn't. It must have been nothing good."Besides, I doubt people will think my sister is crazy. "The court will side with her after all it is normal to see a woman hurt by her husband's cheating."
"A maester had to see Harwin," Corlys reminded them with a frown.
"An accident. One of the maids dropped hot water and the idiot slipped and hit his head. It's his fault for being in the delivery bed when he shouldn't be" You couldn't help but laugh at the easy lie your brother made up. You wouldn't be surprised if there were people who believed her. Laenor turned to look at you with a smile, feeling satisfied to see that you were settling back down normally in your chair instead of trying to hide. "The only thing my sister did was go yell at her stupid husband for daring to snub her like that."
Before Corlys could say what he thought about it there was a knock on the door. After your father gave permission to enter a maid reported that Rhaenyra had given birth to a second son named Lucerys and that the three of you could now go and meet him.
"Come on Laenor, we have to meet the future lord of Driftmark," the Lord said once the maid left.
The fury you felt when you heard those words made you forget any feeling of smallness that your father caused you. You could allow your father many things but not this. You weren't going to stay silent while he took away your son's birthright and gave it to Rhaenyra's bastard. You knew that your father was an ambitious man and wanted to go down in history—that's why he had pushed you to spend time with Viserys as soon as Queen Aemma died and when you didn't become queen he made Laenor marry Rhaenyra even though he knew his preferences—but you never thought he would be able to deliver the legacy of your ancestors as if nothing had happened. It was insulting. This was outrageous.
When you least expected it, your father always found a new way to disappoint you.
"You can't be serious," you said, standing up abruptly from your chair while resting your hands on the desk.
"Please don't start again," your father said as if he was treating you like a tantrum child making your fury only grow even more. You could feel your blood heat up.
"He can't be Driftmark's heir," you said, emphasizing each word to get it into his head.
"He is the son of Laenor. It is his birthright"
"He is my son in name only," Laenor reminded him. He loved Jacaerys and was sure he would soon love Lucerys too, but he still knew he couldn't give any of them Driftmark. It would be an insult to Laena, to you, to his uncles and cousins.
“And why is that?” Corlys accused him. He didn't need to say any more words, the three of them knew that he blamed the lack of legitimate children on Laenor's preferences. You would think that after years your father would have accepted it by now.
“Driftmark belongs to Aethan,” you said, watching as Laenor clenched her hands into fists clearly frustrated, putting her attention back on you “He was born before Lucerys, it is his birthright” You tried hard not to raise your voice thinking that if You looked calm and confident. Your father could listen to you for once.
“You know perfectly well that the line of succession follows the lineage of Laenor.”
“That's the point,” you exclaimed. “Lucerys has no Velaryon blood and no offense to Laenor, but we all know you will never have descendants. "You turned when you saw your brother but he didn't look offended by your words so you turned your attention to your father "If Laenor doesn't have children then the line that follows is Laena's but she still doesn't have children so until that happens follow my line. Alyn was born first so he will have Harrenhall but Driftmark belongs to Aethan.”
“Lucerys will inherit Driftmark after Laenor,” your father stated as if he hadn't heard anything you said.
“He doesn't have Velaryon blood!” you argued, losing your patience, a part of you wanted to throw yourself at the desk and beat your father to the point of exhaustion. Maybe this way he would come to his senses.
“History does not remember blood, it remembers names”
Again he was looking at you like you were a little girl, like you were stupid and couldn't understand what she was talking about. But you understood, he was always going to care more about his ambition than his family. This time you did not hide from his gaze but instead took refuge in your fury.
Nightwing shouted angrily from the Dragon's Pit.
Slapped.
Your father looked at you in shock. You didn't feel guilt or regret, in fact, you felt satisfaction. You hoped the mark of your hand would remain on his face. You weren't going to apologize, he deserved it for choosing Rhaenyra and his bastard over you and your son, his own blood.
Laenor was the first to react, taking your arm and pulling you back and then standing in front of you, ready to protect you in case his father tried to do something to you. But you weren't afraid. Your father had never hit you before and you didn't think he would start doing it now, not when you were already a grown woman, not when you could still hear the furious screams of your dragon, not when you both knew that if he dared to touch you your mother wouldn't hesitate to feed him to Meleys
“Get her out of here,” Corlys ordered, regaining his patriarchal composure.
You broke free from your brother's grip. You didn't need an escort. You could go alone but you had one last thing to say. You expected this to torment him.
“You will be the one to ruin our name, you will make us a laughing stock if you leave that child as heir.”
Of course, your fury can't last forever. That's why when Larys entered through the secret passageway that your room had, he found you curled up in bed.
"Are you angry?" You turn your back on him as you feel him lift the sheets to get into the bed next to you.
Your voice was weak and unsure like you were afraid to know his answer. And Larys didn't like it.
"Just for not being able to see how you hit my brother" he replied and you wanted to laugh but it came out more like a sob making the look in Larys' eyes soften. If it was someone else they would find it annoying or feel uncomfortable but you are the exception. He just wanted to make your pain go away. "What happened?" he asked, ready to listen to you complain about Harwin and Rhaenyra.
"My father wants Lucerys Velaryon to be heir to Driftmark instead of Aethan" You turned around and dared to sneak into your lover's chest now that you knew he wasn't upset with you.
You took Larys by surprise because he didn't expect that to be the reason for your discomfort.
"That's not going to happen," he assured you as he gave you comforting strokes on your back. "Not many children make it to the age of two. Even if they do, they can always have an accident during their childhood. And if that doesn't happen, then we'll take care of Lucerys."
You should be horrified by what Larys just said and its implications. You should be scared at how calm he seems at the idea of murdering his own nephew but instead, you feel more in love with him. It's twisted but his words gave you comfort, knowing that you weren't alone in this, that you had someone on your side who was willing to do something so heinous just for you and so that your child would have his birthright. You and Larys must be crazy thinking about the death of a newlyborn baby. You're probably not as good a person as you thought and you don't know how to feel about it. You send a silent prayer to the gods and apologize for your thoughts because that's what a good person would do. You convince yourself that your fury is still poisoning your head and that's why you think of Lucerys dead. Your usual self would never think of that. How would you wish for the death of an innocent baby?
"We won't do anything," you say but both you and Larys can notice the lack of determination in your decision. But he's smart enough not to highlight it, it would only worsen your mood. "It's not Lucerys' fault that my father chose Rhaenyra over me," your voice breaks at the end and it seems like you're about to cry again.
"He didn't choose her, he chose the power he thinks she possesses," he said in an attempt to make you feel better.
"I'm sorry that your father disappointed you," he gently wiped your tears with his thumb. "But you don't need it. You have your siblings, and your mother and you have me. I'm always on your side."
At his last statement, you felt your heart warm up along with a sudden huge need to kiss him. So you obeyed your desire and leaned towards him and then captured his lips. You kissed him again and again, you tasted his lips as if it were the most exquisite wine you had ever tasted, but the thirst you felt for him did not seem to disappear.
"Be good and make me forget about today" you asked with heavy breathing.
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#the sea dragon the clubfoot and the green queen#larys strong x reader#larys x reader#larys strong#alicent x you#alicent x reader#alicent hightower x reader#harwin strong x reader#harwin x reader#harwin strong x you#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#laenor velaryon#corlys velaryon#velaryon reader#rhaenyra targaryen#hotd fanfic#hotd fic
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Okay so what *would* the line of succession look like if it starts with Visenya??
well complicated because absolute primogeniture would change who is getting married to who. also disclaimer i am making all of this shit up. here are my thoughts.
- so assuming that as the eldest visenya still has to marry aegon out of obligation maegor is born as the heir from the beginning. earlier in he was in canon. aenys is rhaenys and ???s child
- since the order is switched i think it makes more sense to have maegor marry alyssa velaryon and aenys marry ceryse hightower. Judgement call for thematic reasons here: Maegor and Alyssa have Rhaena, the heir, and Viserys (this is Aegon uncrowned but Maegor will be naming his son after his mommy and not his dad come on.) Aenys and Ceryse have Jaehaerys and Alysanne.
- Maegor isn’t king for too long since Visenya lives forever. Viserys still dies after the birth of Rhaena’s twins due to slipping on a banana peel or maybe getting like Ivan the terrible’d by his own dad or something you know how it is with them.
- After Maegor dies, brief succession dustup where the more traditional southern reacher houses all back jaehaerys (half hightower, raised in the faith, male) over Rhaena but they lose their political momentum when Jaehaerys marries his younger sister and loses his “pure westerosi princeling” cred. Oops. Conflict resolved when Rhaena agrees to let Jae and Aly onto her small council, send one of her daughters to the faith, and betroth the other to some reacher family or another. Doesn’t matter because Aerea dies very young and Rhaella becomes a septa still.
- This leaves Rhaena in a bind trying to figure out which of her cousin’s kids to designate as heir. Kind of a problem since Rhaena never remarries and puts the succession question off until all of them are old.
- Alysanne backs Rhaenys, eldest child of their eldest child and bearer of Dark Sister.
- Jaehaerys backs Baelon and his son Aegon (Viserys I but in this universe since Visenya was king the function of the names Aegon and Viserys are switched) because he still hates women.
- This is already self-indulgent so I’m going to say bitter jaded elderly Queen Rhaena pivots at the last minute and backs Saera, Jaehaerys’ willful maligned daughter who miraculously returned from essos where her own Aerea did not. (she made it to the dragon pit and claimed Balerion in this one. just for fun)
- Dance of the Dragons happens earlier and has 3 major factions. Stormlands and Crownlands back Rhaenys, the Reach, Westerlands, and Vale back Baelon, and the Triarchy backs Saera. After that literally who knows.
#asoiaf#well i did have fun thinking about this#the function of the names aegon and viserys are switched and in a hundred years we get Daemon Darksister. btw#alysanne is a brunette in this universe also#valyrianscrolls#king visenya au
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♡ Dating Aegon II Targaryen Headcanons:
❝ But… If you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied…❝
[SFW+NSFW + AFAB!Reader]
General Warnings: sad!Aegon, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of neglect
NSFW Section Warnings: pervert!Aegon, AFAB Terms, Somnophilia, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Sensory Deprivation
A/N: Still upset about his characterization in the show :/ Poor TGC was trying so hard to save this character. Appreciate that he gave us pathetic wet dog vibe for Aegon at the least
SFW Headcanons:
☀️ Aegon has desperate issues regarding love especially the idea of someone loving him. He’s been completely neglected by his father, only valued by his mother as a “rightful” king and struggles with alcoholism as a result.
☀️ Having you see him not as a ruler, not as a prince, not as a chess piece in a political game, but as a person has his mind confused.
☀️ It takes a bit of time for him to entertain the idea of you valuing him as true but once he does, he’s latched onto you like his life depends on it.
☀️ And I mean literally latched on. He is unashamed at how clingy he is to you. Arms always wrapped around you in the hall and keeping his eyes to yours.
☀️ Aegon is only willing to listen to you without complaining too much. Maybe a whine or two but he’s totally whipped so he’s on his way to do as you ask.
☀️ He’d LOVE for you to meet Sunfyre. If you are unaccustomed to dragons, he makes sure to slowly introduce you because he wants you to love his dragon as much as he does.
☀️ Always dreams about running away with you. He’ll be cuddling with you and ask about it. Even if it was impossible, he’d like to dream about going off somewhere in Essos, away from the throne.
☀️ “Love, simply listen to me… Imagine it. We could run off on the first ship out of this blasted kingdom. It could be just us…”
☀️ Alicent would simultaneously love and hate you. She enjoys the company of women and finally, someone has found a way to handle Aegon. But, she’d also be weary of this on account of her father because Aegon being infatuated with you means he’s more willing to listen to you than his council.
☀️ Rather than ditch his duties to attempt escapes, to drink or to whore, he’s sneaking off to see you if it’s been too long. He insists you stay by him during meetings or other duties to keep him from “going mad”.
☀️ Aegon can get very jealous when he sees you with other men because he knows what they’re thinking when they look at you. But you are his. No one else’s.
☀️ And considering he’s the firstborn and a prince, he has absolutely no problem getting petty because there would be no serious consequences. (Bonus tag team with Aemond.)
☀️ Aegon’s main Love Languages to give are: Physical Touch and Quality Time.
☀️ Aegon is obsessed with your body completely. He wants to do everything to have you in his arms.
☀️ He is unashamed with PDA. He’s kissing you almost every couple of minutes. He’s walking down the halls all smiles because he’s holding your hand.
☀️ Aegon’s need for you is constant and his mood quickly sours if he’s pulled away from duty rather than being able to spend his time with you.
☀️ He’d whisk you away onto Sunfyre for a joyride just so he can be away from everyone but you. Consider it a romantic gesture because in his mind it is.
☀️ He thinks it’s like when the knight saves the princess in the stories.
☀️ Lingers in the mornings just so he can have you by him for longer. The sun is hurting his eyes this early in the morning so what better than to bury his head in your chest and softly ask you to stay as he caresses your perfect body.
☀️ Aegon’s favorite Love Languages to receive are: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation.
☀️ Aegon wants to feel special. To feel taken care of. To feel loved. So anytime you go out of your way to assist him, his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you.
☀️ You tidied the bedchamber? Have prepared his clothing? You’ve had his sword cleaned and polished? You’re practically begging for this man to be completely and utterly obsessed and he’s littering you in kisses in appreciation.
☀️ And, of course, he wants praise. No one has validated him and simply valued him as a person so he yearns for your words.
☀️ Something as simple as “I’m proud of you” has him close to shedding tears because no one tells him that.
☀️ He wants to hear you say “I love you” as much as possible so he’ll say it all the time just to hear you say it back.
NSFW Headcanons:
☀️ At first, he has to be dominant and take control. He’s been cut out of having control in all other aspects of his life that he needs some semblance of power.
☀️ You can trust that he knows what he’s doing. Although some of his fucking has been done while drunk, he’s done it and experimented enough to know what gets him off and what gets you off.
☀️ Only after some time will he trust to submit himself in bed. It’s scary to him. To lose control in another aspect of his life. But he trusts you and he loves you.
☀️ And surprisingly, being so slow, gentle and loving to him, it felt amazing. Having you ride him, hands interlocked and meeting each other’s eyes.
☀️ His favorite part of you are your tits. Seeing them bounce as you ride him, needing to touch and feel them.
☀️ He whimpers and cries when he’s getting close, begging you not to stop. He’s clearly needy just by the way he’s grabbing onto any part of you that you let him.
☀️ When he’s more comfortable with being submissive, he’s whiny in his needs. Tugging at your gown anytime you two are alone, insisting he needs to at least have a look.
☀️ “Please, my love… Please! Just one look! Gods, you have no idea how much I crave you.”
☀️ Aegon’s hand would try to slip under your gown under the table at dinner, insist that only he needs to assist you in bathing which is definitely just an excuse to fuck, and just straight up jack off when you two are alone in your bedchamber, pleading for you to touch him.
☀️ Aegon could definitely cum with the punishment of only being able to hump at your leg. The humiliation of being so desperate gets him off like nothing else.
☀️ He can be bratty sometimes but it’s all purposeful. He wants you to punish him because you both know it leads to being tangled around each other in bed.
☀️ Oh, and Aegon is absolutely unashamed about being loud. The louder the better in his opinion. He wants everyone and anyone to know how fucking good you two fuck and for how long.
☀️ He’d leave whatever chamber you two were in with a smug grin, knowing that no one could match the passion you two share.
☀️ Aegon has average stamina and lasts as long as you edge him for. He could go 2-3 a times a day and still ask for more even when he’s a shaking mess.
☀️ Sit on this man’s face. Period. No questions asked. If he can breathe, he isn’t satisfied. Suffocate him entirely, clamp onto his head with your thighs and watch him eat you out like a starved madman.
☀️ Aegon is a whore for praise and he makes it known when he’s giving you head. He gets so easily pussy drunk it’s insane. His eyes are locked onto you, only parting from your swollen, abused cunt to hear how well he’s doing.
☀️ “My love… Please tell me how well I’m doing… I’m being good, am I not?”
☀️ One of his favorite things would be longer sessions where he’s blindfolded and completely up to your control. Have fun with waxplay and sensory deprivation and watch his cock twitch and leak precum at each touch.
☀️ Sometimes you’d wake up to him already rubbing his cock against your cunt, feeling the wetness already coating him. His forehead pressed to your back as he softly moaned. It’s so easy for him to get turned on when you’re so close to him.
⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune
#asoiaf#asoiaf headcanons#asoiaf x reader#hotd#hotd smut#hotd x reader#hotd headcanons#hotd imagine#hotd aegon#aegon ii targaryen#aegon the second#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon the elder#aegon x reader#aegon ii smut#aegon ii x reader#hotd x you#aegon ii headcanons
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gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 1: Homecoming
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)
Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.
Welcome, everyone, to the edit/rewrite of my first instalment of ‘terms of endearment’! Just to clarify - a LOT of this will remain as-is, but I do intend on shuffling a fair bit around because I wasn’t happy with the pacing upon review. Expect some more flashbacks, some more Daemon-centric smut, grossness galore! I’ve elected to repost entirely so that I don’t leave anyone in limbo while I rejig things. This way, people can still re-read the old completed instalment while I finish out my edits, after which I’ll completely replace the instalment with these new updates in the Masterlist!
TRIGGERS: rough sex, objectification of women, incest, references to pregnancy.
“King Viserys sent him into exile, never to return to the Seven Kingdoms on pain of death… Of the aftermath, these things are certain. Following the tragic mishap of Lady Rhea Royce’s untimely death and the Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding to Ser Laenor, Daemon Targaryen returned to the Stepstones and resumed his struggle for those barren storm-swept rocks. The subsequent decade found him abroad in Essos, keeping residence with various highborn families in Pentos and holding court with his paramour Mysaria, returned to him after an extended period of absence. It was only with the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s third son Prince Joffrey—and the announcement of his second daughter’s search for a husband—that King Viserys finally wrote his erstwhile brother, bidding him to come home.”
- 'Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros' by Archmaester Gyldayn
“Ah—ah—ah—my Prince!”
Daemon ignores the wailing of the whore below him as he pounds viciously into her, grinding his teeth at the sound of her high-pitched mewls. Pathetic, he thinks, slapping her across the rear hard to see if he can make her cry a little. He smiles, an unpleasant, savage thing, as he’s rewarded with the very thing he wants. She buries her face in the sheets so that all he can see of her is her arsecheeks, her arched, too-thin back, the silver hair spilling from her head.
The wrong shade, he muses, but close enough in the dark.
The thought angers him. He pulls out of the girl and drags her off the bed, drops her to her knees before him. Her tearstained face renews his flagging arousal, and he tugs frantically at himself at the sight of her wide, overwhelmed eyes.
“Finish me,” he snarls.
He throws his head back with a moan as the girl takes him in her mouth, choking him down eagerly. Grasping onto her hair, he pulls her further along his shaft, revelling in the frantic spasms of her muscles and the muffled cries that send such delicious vibrations down his cock.
“Fuck—that’s it, girl,” he says, holding her by the scalp and using her with little care. He grunts when he comes, pulsing down her throat and making her swallow him down. When he lets her go, she pulls off him quickly, sputtering and retching.
Still throbbing from the unsatisfying climax, he ignores her, choosing instead to cross the room and take a swig of wine directly from the jug. He mumbles a vague response when she thanks him with scratchy tones. Turning around, he’s amused to see she’s already arranged herself back on the bed, stroking at herself between the thighs with an expression of sultry enthusiasm upon her face as she sells her performance.
In any other circumstance, he’d be perfectly happy to let her continue, let her play with herself until he had hardened again, until he could fuck her into the mattress, or on the chair, or perhaps even pressed over the balcony overhanging the bright city. But tonight, the sight annoys him.
“Get out.”
He tosses a robe over his naked form, enjoying the fear that crosses her face as she takes in his words but making no move to allay her. “You heard me.”
The whore gathers herself off the sheets, tugging on her threadbare dress.
“W-what of my payment, my Prince?” she asks timidly, and he’d like to be impressed by her boldness—but the whore is boring him, and a bored Targaryen is a dangerous one.
“Add it to the Prince of Pentos’s tab,” He take. another swig of wine. When he observes her still there, making no move to leave, he barks at her. “Well, girl? Are you deaf? Get out!”
She shrieks and runs as he tosses the half-empty jug her way, already mourning the wine as it splatters against the table, across the wall and over the bed. Luckily, the outburst got the girl to leave. The door hangs ajar as he strides over to the balcony and leans against it, staring pensively out at the city.
Pentos is a lively metropolis. Even at night, the sounds of laughter, drunken fighting, exotic merchants selling exotic wares and the chatter of foreign tongues fills his ears. The scent of rich spices from the marketplace lingers in his nose, a perpetually heady musk that pulses in his skull and sends shivers of half-hearted desire trickling through his blood. A warm breeze rustles from far-off, ruffling the hairs on his arms and legs softer than a highborn girl’s tits.
And somehow, it’s not enough. He wants to scream with the monotony of it all. It should excite him—but it only makes him feel flat, hollow. He’s bored.
“I ran into the girl you were using tonight, my Prince. Did you not like this one?”
“She was fine.” Daemon ignores Mysaria as she rests beside him and idly trails her hand down his exposed chest.
So often, such a motion carries with it the hazard of something proprietary, possessive, a claim upon his person from one far too lowborn to have the right of such importunity. Not now, though. She understands the way of things.
“I worked hard to procure her for you. Valyrian stock is difficult to come by, even in Pentos.”
“She was no Valyrian.”
He pushes her hand away and walks back inside, cursing himself for doing away with the wine so early. It may be shit, but at least it gets me drunk well enough.
Collapsing on the chair, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, hoping the woman will give up quickly.
“What ails you this evening, Daemon?”
Fuck. He glances back up at her, abjectly noticing her concern for him etched in her features. She is beautiful this evening, his whore, sumptuous frame garbed in blood-red and mysterious eyes lined in thick kohl.
She treads forward, standing before him and placing her hand upon his crown. “You have been unlike yourself all afternoon.”
The urge to fight drains from him. He jerks his head towards the nearby desk where the source of all his issues lay opened, waiting for a new reader to claim the words upon its pages. He says nothing as she saunters over to read its contents—merely resumes staring at the back of his own eyelids, listening to the sound of the parchment ruffle as she adjusts it.
“The Princess Rhaenyra has been delivered of another son—Joffrey, of House Velaryon.”
The sound of the words spoken aloud is enough to bring his anger back. Mine, that should be my son, not that pillowbiter’s or that fucking Strong cunt—
“Oh—and your little niece has begun receiving suitors.”
Daemon pauses in his tirade. He hadn’t noticed that little piece of news upon first reading Viserys’s letter.
“Which one?” he asks her. There’s three now, isn’t there? Or is it four?
“The second one,” Mysaria says.
An echoing indignation throbs through him. Not my girl, my sweetling, she is too young—
You were a child when he was exiled for the final time, having at last outlived Viserys’s seemingly infinite patience with that business with Rhaenyra.
Fucking is a pleasure, you see; for the woman as it is the man.
He swallows at the memory, at the sting of thinking of her hooded eyes and parted lips, the smooth suppleness of her collarbone as he’d unbuttoned that ridiculous longshirt, her sighs and the feel of her wet between slender thighs—
No. It’d only make him angry again.
He turns his contemplations back to where it is safe. Back to you, his little princess. If his memories of Rhaenyra are tainted by the years of lust and longing and the chance of a love thwarted long ago, then you remain perhaps the only pure thing from his youth. Purity. ‘Tis fitting, surely. There had always been an innate innocence to you that none other had possessed, a profound incorruptibility that evoked some long-repressed desire to be something more than the rogue he was.
He’d never really fathomed where you’d found such goodness in a world made for depravity and destruction. Rhaenyra was easy enough to understand—she’d been a reflection of himself, like looking into a mirror and finding the contents skewed slightly. Ambition, wanderlust, the bite of debauchery lurking below the otherworldly godliness of Valyrian features, concealing their baser natures from the world. But you—you were an oddity of the bloodline, strangely sweet and yet shrewd, sharp, a hidden fire waiting for fuel to light the blaze.
“Hm.”
Daemon finds himself wondering what you are like now that ten years had passed. You’d be a woman-grown now, or near enough. The knowledge is discomfiting, so bogglingly at odds with the girl of seven summers he had left on the steps of the Keep that night.
“Where are you going?”
“Fu—” He just barely stops himself from voicing aloud the rest of his foul outcry. Whirling around in shock, he keeps a tight hold of the reins. When he sees who awaits him, he sighs. “Go back inside, sweetling.”
Dressed in a pretty little gown of lavender with your hair adorned in ribbons, it is clear that the effect is meant to convey a sense of maturity, a young lady on the cusp of reaching womanhood. Daemon sees the same you he always had; a slip of a thing, wide eyes and round cheeks and spindly little elbows and knees, a tiny doll to tuck away on a shelf, high out of reach of grubby hands.
It is not who he had been expecting. Who he had hoped.
Your brows are drawn, lilac blurred by the tear-sheen collecting on your lashes. “You—Uncle Daemon”—your hands clasp together anxiously—“you cannot leave now! The—’Nyra is going to be married in the Great Hall soon. You have to be there. You said you would dance with me.”
He drops the reins at that. Even after all that—after I’d told her to slip away, to join me—she was still going ahead with it all? He wants to break something, to lash out and cause hurt so that he won’t be the only one to feel so wretched in this moment.
There is none here but you.
Crossing the courtyard and up the steps so that he may crouch before you, he shoves down his rage and his pain as best he can. “Talītsos”—little niece, he calls you, tucking a stray strand of hair back into your coiffure with a tender touch—“the King has asked me to leave. I must do as he says, correct?”
“When—when will you be back?” you ask, lower lip trembling. He is dismayed to see one of those tears fall, misery tracking down your face.
Wiping it away with a thumb, he takes your hand in his and steels himself for his next words. “I’m afraid… I’m not coming back.”
The horror in your expression feels like the edge of a blade carving to his very soul. “But… you promised.” You sound as wounded as he.
He tries to smile. He wonders if it looks as broken as it feels. “I know. If I had a choice, you know I’d stay.”
At that, you sniffle, withdrawing to rub at your eyes. Daemon casts his gaze around, wondering where the fuck your guards are.
Does no one care for Viserys’s second-born?
It mightn’t be the first time you’d slipped out from under the watch of your protectors—you’ve always been too damn quiet, prone to sneaking about and hiding beneath the noses of all who searched for you—but surely, in the wake of a death at the most anticipated event of the season, at least somebody ought to have realised you were missing. He has half a mind to bring you back inside himself, never mind his brother’s orders.
“Will I ever see you again?”
A shout of your name comes from within, far away though drawing nearer with each repetition.
Good. At least I’ll not be leaving her alone.
His fingers dance across your sleeve, coaxing your hand back into his and squeezing softly. “Kostilus. Kostilus daor. Jēda ivestrilus.” Perhaps. Perhaps not. Time will tell.
You fling your arms around his neck, wet little face digging into his temple. “Aōma ozmijīnna, kepus.” I will miss you, Uncle.
Through the anguish prickling at the insides of his eyelids, he is pleased by your attempt to speak in your mother tongue; true, it is stuttering and uncertain, the vowels not quite shaped as they should be, but it is certainly impressive for one so young.
He can hear your quick breaths punctuated by hitches, a steady stream of half-suppressed sobs pressed up against the shell of his ear. He hugs you tight to him, feels the thud of your heartbeat below the bones of your structured gown and the many layers you’ve been trussed up in, smells the rose oil in your hair and on your skin, and prays that he will remember this always.
Daemon says nothing. There are no words of farewell that seem sufficient. Pulling away, he takes one last look at you—your miserable countenance, below which lingers the glowing loveliness that precursors true beauty, wild silver strands haloed in the moonlight—and hopes that this won’t be the last time you and he meet in this life.
As he leads his horse out of the courtyard, through the open gate and into the city beyond, he finds the sound of your weeping is drowned out by the erratic rhythm of his own fractured heart, roaring in his ears.
“Your brother calls you home, my Prince.” Mysaria startles him from his reverie. He’d forgotten she was talking. “He says it has been long enough.”
“He does, does he?” Daemon sneers even as he wills away the ache in his bones—the ache of remembering you—though it has not the vitriol behind it he wishes for.
If he’s honest with himself, he has been yearning for the familiar sights of King’s Landing. He would never profess to call it home, however. You’d been the only one to make him feel truly welcome in those fleeting visits of his.
Mysaria sighs. “You should go,” she says, and he can feel her eyes upon him from her seat at the desk.
Her words are surprising. If he were to leave, she’d surely lose her position as esteemed guest. Whores were only respectable if they were fucking a man of station, after all—and if he were to depart, where would that leave her?
He asks her. She laughs, and strolls over to him, seating herself upon his lap. His arms go around her automatically, a rote movement ingrained from years of habit.
“Oh, Daemon. I am only here for you. If you were to leave, I would move on as I did when you discarded me last time.”
Her words contain no accusation, and he feels suddenly fond of her. Here is a woman who has no expectations of him beyond money and a good fuck, and he likes to think he’s provided both in abundance over their long acquaintance.
“Will you miss me, pet?” He grins wryly up at her. He’s taken aback by the fact that he is actually considering it, making the journey back to Westeros.
“Of course, my Prince.” They both know it’s a lie. Mysaria is fond of him, ‘tis true, but she has no love for him, nor he for her. It is a mutually beneficial alliance, nothing more and nothing less. “But I shall always be around, should you have need of me once more.” This is true also, he knows.
He considers the notion again. Returning. Going back to the Red Keep, all those fucking people staring at him, judging him with snide faces and side-eyes. That Hightower whore and the progeny she shoved from her dried-up cunt running his brother into an early grave. Rhaenyra and her bastard boys—that shirtlifter husband of hers and that fucking Strong—and you, his little niece, freshly plucked and waiting to be wedded and bedded.
“Well,” he says, already decided. “I do suppose I’m going home.”
The announcement seems to lighten some latent tightness across his chest, and he realises with dawning comprehension that a part of him actually misses his former life. He looks up at his lover mischievously, already reaching up her skirts to slide a finger into her, thumb at her pearl. She gasps and parts her legs for him obligingly, working a hand around her neck to undo the cords that tie her dress to her.
“Fancy a farewell fuck?” he asks.
She laughs, shifting so that she straddles him, batting his hand from her and grasping his cock so that she may sink down upon it. He throws his head back and watches her with hooded eyes as she gives him something to remember her by.
Fuck, he thinks to himself as he fondles her tits, I’ll miss this.
He elects not to warn the capital in advance of his arrival, deciding it is far more fun to indulge in the confusion and alarm that the long-absent sight of Caraxes flying above the city would bring. He’s right, as bringing his mount low as he soars above the people of King’s Landing amasses shouts so hysterical one would think he were an enemy coming to rain dragonfire upon the crowds. It seems they have grown complacent in his absence, an issue he’ll have to remedy.
As he approaches the Dragonpit, he is nearly knocked out of the sky by a great hulking creature. He whips around frantically as Caraxes lets forth a chilling cry. At first, he thinks he sees the Black Dread flying free once more. He looks again and realises his mistake. It is a dragon, no doubt, but this one is much smaller than Balerion had been in his final years—though the colouring is similar—and far quicker and more snappish than the old beast had ever been. It is a fearsome specimen, nonetheless. The sound of its low, booming roar sends a thrill of excitement and terror down his spine.
Now, there is a dragon worthy of House Targaryen, he thinks to himself. The creature is flying away, and out of self-preservation Daemon chooses not to follow it, urging Caraxes back on path to the Pit.
The attendants are swarming as he lands Caraxes, trying in vain to rein him in. Caraxes bellows, having grown used to the freedom allowed to him in Pentos, and Daemon knows his mount will not allow himself to be chained any longer.
“Ziry qrīdrughās!” he yells as he dismounts, calling off the Keepers brandishing their spears. Leave it!
“Dārilaros ñuhys—” My Prince—
“I said, leave it!” Daemon repeats, rounding upon the man and sneering as he bows in obeisance. “He’ll not be chained.”
The Keeper is replying, but Daemon has already moved on. He swings himself onto the horse provided, choosing not to wait for the carriage he is sure has been made available, and makes his own way through the winding streets of the city.
It must be the sight of his foreign garb and the silver of his hair as the sun shines down that attracts the growing crowds. The closer he ventures toward the towering monolith of the Red Keep, the greater the collection of people come to a stop at the sides of the narrow roads, all of them thronging to take their glimpse of the wayward Prince’s return. And yet, as he passes, their curiosity turns to excitement, trepidation, fear—a reception he is not unsurprised to have garnered. No one can outrun their past. The whispers carry him all the way to the Targaryen stronghold, reminding him how just out of place he is.
When he arrives at the steps, a party is waiting for him.
“Prince Daemon!”
Lord Lyonel Strong. Daemon notes with distaste that the man has gotten fat and is now balding. It seems the position of Lord Hand suited him ill over the years.
“We were not expecting your return!”
“I did not send word,” he says dispassionately.
As he searches Strong’s attendants, he notes one that makes him want to pull Dark Sister from its scabbard and stab an eye or two out. Harwin fucking Strong. The man is as noble as ever, a pretty boy made ruggedly handsome with the sprouting of facial hair in his fifteenth year. Since then, he’d been annoyingly good-looking. What a cunt. Daemon smiles, a clench of teeth bared tightly toward the Lord Commander of the City Watch, and nudges past the remainder of the assembled people.
He has to physically restrain himself from cringing when he sees how poorly his brother has fared over the last ten years. While his letters had spoken of illness, Daemon had not been expecting the sight of a gaunt Viserys riddled with festering sores, his hair thready and thin, teeth fallen out and wrinkles that made it seem as though fifty summers had passed. Oh, and the matter of the missing limb. What in the Seven fucking Hells were the Maesters doing if not helping ease the King’s pains?
“Brother?”
The King appears incredulous as Daemon strides into the throne room, a makeshift assembly of high-ranking personages already present in expectation of his arrival.
He averts his eyes from his brother’s form—oh, brother, what have they done to you?—and genuflects, eyes pointed to the floor. “Your Grace. I have returned. I hope I am welcome after all this time.”
“Of course, you are,” Viserys breathes, hoisting himself off the Iron Throne.
He seems not to notice as the action tears at a portion of his sleeve, a thin slice spreading on the skin of the arm remaining to him. The King makes his way down the steps, limb outstretched, and Daemon steps into the hug that is offered to him. In many regards, his older brother is the same. He has not lost his stoutness, and the smell of him is familiar, though it has been overtaken by the stench of herbs and poultices and the rot of impending death. He fights back the bizarre and unwelcome urge to cry. As fraught as their relationship has always been, he had never truly expected—nor intended—for his brother to die.
“Welcome home, brother.”
“I am glad to be back,” Daemon murmurs, and it is not a lie. As the court claps, his gaze raises up, and it’s then that he first sees Rhaenyra again. His chest throbs with the exhilaration of a long-awaited reunion. He’s taken aback by the sight.
Gone is the girl that he’d left in this very same room, adorned in a wedding dress and looking like the Maiden come to life. In her place stands a woman, regal and daunting, though no less beautiful. Her hair is braided up, her waist thickened from the toil of bearing three sons, the arch of her nose crooked by some unnamed past hurt, her eyes closed off and her expression impassive in a way that it had never been before.
It pains him to see her, the same and yet different. He supposes that he had been expecting her to remain unchanged, the pretty maiden with hooded eyes and slender form still waiting for him to return to her someday. This is not the woman he encounters before him, though it doesn’t make her any less beautiful.
But the look of yearning he had been hoping to see—the yearning he had felt in his bones for all these years—is simply not there.
He blurs through the remainder of the afternoon, a never-ending carousel of lords and ladies bowing and scraping before the King’s brother, eager to welcome the Rogue Prince back to Westeros. He cares for none of it. He wishes only to speak to Rhaenyra.
Eventually, they set him free. He is clear to seek out his eldest niece, only to find that she has departed while his back was turned. He goes looking for her, wandering the familiar halls of his childhood and meandering all the way to the Princess of Dragonstone’s apartments.
When he knocks on the door, he hears her voice again, a woman’s voice and not a girl’s. It sets his gut churning lowly, uncomfortably. He opens the door, only to find her back turned to him.
“Uncle,” she says, revolving to face him. Her countenance is blank, save for the soft twist of her mouth as she eyes the wriggling babe in her arms. This must be Joffrey, the new one. “I have missed you.”
Motherhood has changed her—it’s clear even in these first seconds. Gone is the time when her world revolved around him, when her eyes would follow him as soon as he stepped into the room, eagerly awaiting the moment that he would bestow his attention upon her. No, now her gaze falls upon her boy, absorbed by the small snuffles and slow blinks of the child wrapped in blankets and looking up at her.
“Rhaenyra.” He steps forward as though to make his way to her then aborts the notion as soon as it passes through his mind. “You’ve changed.”
He does not mean to be so unfeeling, for his words to be so lacking. It is all that can escape him.
The familiar fire sneaks upon her face at his words.
“Yes, well—ten years will do that, Daemon.” She turns to place her son in the cradle beside her and hushes him as his snuffles turn to whines. He eases at the soothing touch of his mother, softens and quietens, and Rhaenyra steps away. When she looks up at him, her eyes are wet with unshed tears. “You left me. I thought—you said you’d never—”
This spurs him into action. He moves toward her, enfolding her in his arms as he did when soothing her hurts as a child, as he did when she sobbed after her mother’s funeral. She even feels different in his embrace, a being so wholly unchanged and foreign that it sets him reeling, a wheel spinning wildly off its mount.
“I shouldn’t have.” He holds her firm even as she struggles in his embrace. “I shouldn’t have left—”
“Don’t!” She pulls away from him, turning her back on him and wiping her eyes. “I don’t care for hearing platitudes from you, not when they’re too late to mean anything.”
“Is it too late, then?” Daemon asks boldly, stepping into her space. He winds his arms around her, front pressed against her back, resolutely ignoring the rising burn in his chest that tells him something is amiss. He had thought this might reignite the flame from that night, the night he’d been so close to getting everything he’d ever wanted, a pretty Targaryen bride made just for him—and yet, it does not.
“Don’t—”
It is the weakness in her voice, the trembling in his arms that presses him onward.
“Yne ivestrās tolī henumīdēmatan, Rhaenyrus.” Tell me I have been away too long, Rhaenyra.
He presses his cheek against her hair and she shudders at the rolling bass of High Valyrian escaping from his lips, even as he tries to ignore the feeling that this is wrong not the same wrong wrong wrong—
“Uncle Daemon!” Her hand flies to his thigh as he grinds forward, juddering, an action borne of instinct.
Uncle. How many times had he made his whores playact this moment?
Why does it feel no different, here and now?
Spinning abruptly in his arms, she slams her lips against his, a violent clash of teeth and tongue that befuddles him as she presses him back, pushes him against the table. Not one to be conquered, he grasps her hips and shoves her around, driving her against the same edge she’d forced him on as he rips at the front of her dress, fumbles with her skirts to display her stockinged legs. He works at ties to her shift while she grapples with the lacing of his breeches, a frantic, discordant battle to disrobe that is more painful than pleasurable.
Hissing at the chill of her fingers, he grunts as her dry palm squeezes his cock and begins to fist him roughly, too roughly, skin snagging on skin and nails pinching delicate tissue. It is far too aggressive, nothing like the shy, unsure thing he’d imagined she would be this first time.
“Fuck!” He wills himself to remain solid in her grip, to belay the softening that has already begun.
One hand lowers itself beneath her smallclothes, fingers and thumb wiggling around to search for the folds of her cunt, the wetness that lay within, only to find her as bone dry as a Septa. He tugs harder on her shift to expose her tits, hoping the sight will renew him, but they are swollen with mother’s milk, yet another reminder that she is not his, has been taken and made anew by the seed of another man, not his not his not his—
“Fuck.”
He is resigned now, his shaft wilting, and he does not try to think up scenarios to encourage its rise.
The old fantasies of a coquettish maiden Rhaenyra feel distinctly wrong to conjure up here, not when the very being herself is right before him. But she is not enough as she is—he wonders if she would have been enough even if she’d been exactly how he’d pictured—and it helps him realise that this will never be.
She seems to understand as well. Her hand retracts and, as she buries her head in the crook of his shoulder, she cries. Cries the tears of a child waiting for the only man who ever understood her to come save her, to come home; the tears of a girl betrayed by the man she thought she loved, left to marry a boy who would never love her; the tears of a woman who has realised it was all for nothing.
When his arms come around her this time, it lacks any trace of ardour. Daemon hides his face against the crown of his niece’s head and wishes he too could cry.
It was all for nothing, he thinks miserably, the hazy memories of a decade spent fighting and fucking and wishing spinning about his brain so fast it dizzies him. It was all for nothing.
Read the EDITED story on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/105698322
Taglist (😭 thank you!):
@teenagephilosophersandwich @mamamooqa @kimnamnu @witch-of-letters @my-dark-prince @asseyakire @kahliethefangirl @shady-daemon @blondtwig @anjavuk591 @drewtissong @vaf24 @katiepie67 @allwedoisvibe @dazecrea @omgsuperstarg @caspianobsessed @shelbyteller @schniiipsel @mononijikayu
#terms of endearment │ daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon fanfiction#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x you#matt smith#game of thrones fanfiction#daemon targaryen smut#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x niece!reader#got fanfiction#a song of ice and fire#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire fanfiction#asoiaf#asoiaf fanfiction#house targaryen#fire and blood#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd#hotd fanfiction
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I’ve been doing some reading into past ladies of winter fell (marna locke my beloved) and we know that Catlyn brought the riverland romantic swag to the north when she married— what do you think the fashion looked like under different ladies?. Even northern brides would have brought accessories from their maiden house, along with their personal style, to the starks.
Hmm yeah
Brides from the really high north (like approaching Umber territory) have a habit of covering everything except their faces due to the cold, so they often bring a very stoic, hard, stern vibe as well as clothing that is very covering. But you know they still have their pride so bejeweled/embroidered gowns and headpieces are still there, but with more muted colors probably
Lower northern/white harbor brides are more in touch with a Faith of The Seven oriented culture, so they wear a million times more accessories (especially if they’re from white harbor) lots and lots of jewels and pearls imported from the south and Essos for their wedding presents, so they become the envy/mockery of winterfell.
Mormont women, as always, bring a very wild and untamable vibe to the party. They frequently wear their bow down in youthful braids and often refuse to pin it up. Bear fur cloaks and hats that they probably skinned themselves. Rough clothing that is more practical for hunting and riding than it is for feasts and balls.
Blackwoods classic goths to Me. Everyone else in winterfell is wearing greys and browns and the blackwood brides roll up in what could be mourning clothes as casual wear they all have an affinity for black for some reason. Just cool gothic “I read about arcane magic in my free time” vibes all around. Some sick ass bitches
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Imagine if rhaenyra had a younger sister, one that in appearance is very similar to her mother, Aemma. She is not very close with the other members of her family and often is cast outside because of their differences in attitude, she appears to not have that supposed "blood of the dragon" thing that most of Targaryen have or had.
Because of her tranquil and soft nature, she is very close to her mother never leaving her side, specially when she was with child.
Viserys sort of neglected her as a child, being too occupied with his kingly duties and also with rhaenyra, the apple of his eyes, giving all his attention to her. That is not a factor for the sisters to create resentment with each other or have a bad relationship, in fact they're very close with each other.
When Aemma dies giving birth (cof cof when she was literally murder) everything changes. She snap at her family, specially her father, blaming him of the death of her mother. Claiming in front of everyone that he is a murderer, creating a fracture beyond repair in their relationship (Viserys tried to fix it, but his daughter threw venomous words at him each time he dare to come closer). Her relationship with her sister also went cold, because Rhaenyra was to occupied with her new duties as heir and also due that she didn't want to talk with rhaenyra or anyone at that hurtful time. She close herself to her family, and spent most of her time secluded in her chambers not wanting to talk with anyone.
When the marriage between Alicent and her father was announce (She was angry that viserys married without having at least mourn a year Aemma's death being that super disrespectful, in her opinion, to her mother's memory), that was the straw that broke the camel, and in that same night she escaped from Kings landing at the back of her dragon after robbing eggs from the dragon pit and some expensive jewelry. Viserys was heartbroken at knowing he was guilty of her daughter escape (Also two very angry Rhaenyra and Daemon guilt trip him), but Otto convince him to get angry at his daughter instead, banning her from Kings landing forever. This was part of Otto's plan to get rid of any potential threat. Without his sister as a possible ally, Rhaenyra was more vulnerable at court.
She went to Essos, at first jumping from place to place in were they let her stay for a time. She finally decided to stay in Qohor as the wife of a merchant prince who didn't want to pass the opportunity to have as a wife a Targaryen princess.
When Viserys became old and ill, his last wish was to know the parade of his younger daughter, wanting to see her one last time before he was gone. That was the reason that made her came back to Westeros, but not as the sweet princess that her family and the court remeber, instead as a powerful and ferocious merchant woman (Due to her husband early passing she begun to run his business and exploited it to its maximum potential, making her social status to grow equal as her richness, due to this she became part of a select group of powerful merchants in Essos) known in all the free cities as the "Golden dragon".
Her sudden arrival after 15 years of not knowing nothing about her was a surprise to her family, a glad one (only for the blacks, because the greens where not that happy that she came back). The children of alicent didn't know about her existence, so for them it was a bigger shock to know that they had another sister all this time (Viserys didn't want anyone to talk about her deserter daughter, acting as if she never existed in the first place), and also an exotic one (due to her foreign accent and way of dressing). For aemond and specially Aegon (he is a pervert and likes to see women in little clothes) this was super attractive (Also whe know that Aemond likes older women, Soo...).
#oc x hotd#hotd x oc#house targaryen#fanfic#imagine if#daemon targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#ageon x reader#aemond x reader#house of the dragon aemond#asioaf#yandere house of the dragon#house of the dragon x reader#ice and fire books#house of the dragon
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— i. Bloodline || Heart of the Dragon
synopsis: a library that leaves you with more questions than answers
warnings: got canon shit, brief mention of cersie, natural disasters, death, spelling
series masterlist
~ 6.5k word count. i know, its a long one
game of thrones x modern!fem!reader
[gif found on pinterest]
After our breakfast Daenerys told me that there would be a Small Council meeting in the afternoon where I would be able to meet everyone.
“I have to see my dragons right now, but I will see you at the meeting,” she’d said. “We’ll further discuss everything with the rest of my council, until then you’re free to roam around as you please. I’ll have someone give you a proper tour of the castle within the week.”
The castle halls were mostly empty, minus the few guards on patrol. Unlike last time, no guard eyed me with suspicion. Rather, they were a bit more cordial, almost like how they’re with Daenerys. I stopped walking as I came to the end of the hall. In front of me were a set of huge double doors. Two small rectangle windows were on either side of the doors, giving a glimpse of what was inside.
Looking through the glass I could see huge bookshelves filled to the brim with books. Sneakily, I looked back and around me, making sure that no one could see me enter. The library was dim, only like by candlelight and whatever sunlight that could seep through the dark curtains. No one seemed to be inside either, the many tables in the room were covered in a coating of dust rather than books.
Off to the sides of the room were a small set of stairs that led to the second story of the library. The shelves were labeled well and in High Valyrian, just in a very fancy way, like how Old Westerosi was written out during this time. The subjects ranged on and on, most of which was about Valyrian culture and history.
The bottom floor of the room was full of Valyrian history and culture. Just by looking at the books inside the shelves anyone could see that they were very old. When I reached the end of the room, I carefully went up the stairs, the floorboards creaking underneath my feet.
Upstairs, there were far fewer bookshelves than downstairs. A circular table was set in the center of the room and large paintings hung up high on the wall behind it. Walking past the table, I came face to face to the former Lords of Dragonstone. All of the Lords and their families who resided on Dragonstone before the Conquest were there.
On the far left, where the line of paintings began was a family portrait. There was writing engraved on a golden plaque underneath the painting.
“Aenar Targaryen, First Lord of Dragonstone.
Gaemon Targaryen and Daenys Targaryen.”
Underneath Aenar’s and his two children's names were the names of his many wives, five to be exact. I haphazardly read through the names, most of which were of Valyrian women, a few from different areas of Essos.
“Vellela Irnoran, that’s most likely from the Free Cities, Naqari Ghe- shit, how do I say this? Ghezihl, oof, that has to be Ghiscari. Jelaehna Vellar..ys.”
Jelaehna Vellarys. Jelaehna Vellarys. Vel-lar-ys.
“No fucking way.”
I squinted, leaning into the painting trying to find some resemblance. She sorta looked like me? But then again, every Valyrian would. The same silver hair, the same deep lilac eyes, the same necklace-
There, on her neck was the same necklace that hung around my neck. Two dragon heads, red ruby, and a sword. Thinking back to my family's words, I know that the necklace had been passed down for generations, but nothing to suggest that there were more than two. From what I’d been told, there’s one necklace in Volantis and the other with me.
Maybe, there would be more information here. I glanced over the bookshelves. Unlike the other ones downstairs, these ones were labeled by years. Judging by the lack of BC or AC, it looked like they were written before the conquest. I moved towards the shelf with the oldest year. The bookshelf was filled with what looked like journals and letters. Skimming through, I could see that they were in different sets of writing, but one caught my eye.
A brown leatherback journal with a red ruby and the initials J.V. I grabbed it and any other books that resemble them and brought them to the roundtable. The first book was a personal journal of Jelaehna written during her time in Valyria. She described her daily life as one of Aenar's wives in the Freehold. It was interesting to learn about what life was like in a once powerful empire that’s nothing more than rubble now. Mid-way into the journal was what really caught my eye.
This morning, after our morning meal with the family, Daenys came to her father, almost terrified, and told him about her dream. Aenar, confused, calmed her down and told her to explain herself, thinking it was some sort of nightmare. Despite the political stress and pressure of our family possibly losing its position to another house, he still took the time for his children.
Daenys told her father that she’d dreamed of the end of Valyria. At first, Aenar laughed and told her that nothing of that sort would happen. We as well as everyone in Valyria had dragons – even children have dragons. There are so many that we’re completely invincible. How else could we have grown our Empire so far?
However, the look in her eye was enough to convince him. When he confided in his other wives, including myself, he too was convinced of the impending end of our home. Bhaesa, the third wife, claimed that it was just Daenys’ wild imagination and nothing more, that the stress of politics was the cause of such absurdities. But Aenar shook his head and claimed that Valyria would fall and collapse into itself. Flames would erupt from the ground, fire would rain on all of us and our dragons would be able to do nothing.
Everyone went back and forth for what felt like hours however, none of it would deter Aenar. He was fully convinced that his daughter had dreamt of the end of Valyria. When would it happen? Who knows. All Aenar knows is that we must leave urgently.
The next few pages weren’t as dramatic as the last. According to the journals, Aenar had begun preparations for the entire family's departure. He started selling away valuables and any land we owned in the Freehold. During this Jalaehna had written and received letters from her family.
Jelaehna,
I’m writing to you from Volantis! Brother and I had just arrived a few days ago to our new home. We’ve been settling in and adjusting to our new life here. Your goodsister’s have already started strolling through the markets. It seems that there are even more shops here than in Valyria, despite Volantis being smaller.
Today, brother and I toured our new shop. It’s bigger than what we thought and its forge is doable. If needed we can renovate it whenever we see fit. The shop sits in the main district, besides a bakery that sells very well made bread, cakes, and cookies. Brother is thinking that with maybe a few months of more work, we’ll be ready to start our shop. We’ve already received a few orders!
Enough of that, I’ve heard from Mother that your husband has lost his mind. She tells me that his daughter had dreamt that Valyria had been submerged into flames. Is this true? If it is, I will come down to Valyria myself so I can talk some sense into him.
I understand that the Empire politics are not for the faint of heart and that Lord Targaryen is in a tough position, seeing how your rival house is gaining more support than Aenar, but to take such drastic measures for a simple dream? Don’t worry, if need be, we’ll help him in the upcoming council meeting.
I’ll write to you again when everything has finally settled. Perhaps you and your son can visit us in Volantis, I’m sure he’d be excited to meet his cousins again. Don’t trouble yourself with Aenar or Daenys’ drea., I’ll have father come and talk to him.
With Love,
Your Dear Brother.
Son?
From what I remember, Aenar only had one son, right? Though, if he had multiple wives then he’d have more than one child, but none other than Gaemon the Glorious and Daenys the Dreamer were written down in the Targaryen family tree.
And the shop, by its description it's exactly where my family's first shop was located. Could it be the same shop? I groaned, rubbing my eyes. If only I were in Volantis more, then I would have been able to learn more about our family history.
The next few pages were mainly her daily activities with the occasional “I think my husband has gone mad. He’s started to sell all our lands and belongings.” Though, that wasn’t all of it.
We’re finally leaving.
Aenar has worked tirelessly for most of the year on selling away our belongings and lands. It seems that there’s no turning back any longer. His wives and I agree that he’s lost his mind, however he claims that what he’s doing is for the good of our family, for our children.
A few of his wives protested, claiming that if he left then they’d stay in Valyria. However, Aenar was quick to rebut. No matter what, everyone is to leave. He’s even thinking of bringing a few servants that can tend to our dragons to our new home.
I feel that the reason why so many are upset is because of how far we’re moving. It’s not that we’re moving to Volantis or all the way to Bravos. We’re moving to Dragonstone, the lone castle on an island in the Narrow Sea by the continent Westeros. We’re practically moving our entire life to an unknown land. We leave in a few hours, all the dragons have been prepared for our departure. Anyother belongings that would weigh down our dragons, or wouldn’t fit, were sent over by boat.
Whatever this is, I can only pray to Tyraxes that this will only benefit our family and children.
~
We’ve arrived on Dragonstone.
The journey lasted roughly four days. We stopped when we had to sleep, eat, and stretch our limbs. Our last stop was in Bravos. The small city seems to be developing fine. I’m sure within the years Bravos will become a place of influence not only in Essos, but perhaps Westeros as well.
When we landed on Dragonstone, we were surprised to see a small Valyrian village in the hills. They too were surprised to see us. Apparently, when Dragonstone was first created, almost two hundred years ago, a small group of people were left behind to maintain the castle and the land around it. The castle itself is not what we had imagined. It’s spacious with multiple floors, and it’s littered in dragon motifs and writing in Valyrian.
As of writing this, Aenar and Gaemon are arranging where to put our belongings and are checking everything has arrived well and on time. During all of the planning, Gaemon has helped his father a lot. It's nice to see as a mother when your child and husband spend time together. Daenys is tending to her dragon Balerion. Compared to the older four dragons, Balerion seems to be growing well and will most definitely be a strong dragon. The other wives are either touring the castle or they’re resting in their chambers.
Hopefully our new life on Dragonstone will do us and our children well.
I reread the same words over and over again. Surely, what I was thinking wasn’t a stretch. I mean, if anyone else were to read this they would agree as well, right? If only I had the journals before these ones to know for sure.
The next few hours I was immersed in the entries about the Targaryens familiarizing themselves with their new homes and what their new life was like. It seemed that along the years, Aenar had other children with his wives though, some of them died during infancy. Pages and pages were filled with Jelaehna’s thoughts and her daily activities. It really put into perspective how even all these years back people were just like us. Sure, time’s may have changed but simple things that people enjoy to do have not.
They were right. It finally happened.
Ever since I heard the news my body had been completely numb for many reasons.
Valyria is no more. Our once beautiful home is now nothing but ruins. Its beauty, its culture, its people will never be seen in this world ever again. Ever since we were told of this, I keep finding myself praying to all the Gods in the world that it’s not true, that it’s nothing but a sick sick joke. But it’s not.
This morning I received a letter from my brothers in Volantis informing me that Valyria was destroyed by a chainreaction of all its volcanoes setting off, one after the other causing the earth and the sky to shake so violently that it was felt in Volantis. Volcanic fire rained down onto our Valyria, burning everything in sight. The smoke and fire from it is visible from Volantis and it most likely will be for the next few weeks, possibly months – a looming reminder of the death of the most powerful empire on the planet.
My brothers also tell me that no one has survived, not even the dragons that would soar high in the sky. Who knew that we would be burned by the very same fire we were forged from.
There’s a hole deep in my heart.
Not only have I lost my home, but I have also lost my family. My mother and father, my two brothers and their wives and children. I have cried so much that I am unsure if I have any more tears left to cry. My sorrow is slowly being replaced by anger. Anger that this had to happen. Anger that none of the empire's best scholars were unable to predict this. Anger towards the Gods for destroying those who worshiped them so greatly that we built temples that reached the skies. Anger that all those people laughed at us when we left instead of leaving with us.
The entire castle is in mourning. Daenys is distraught that her dreams had came true and that only she was the one who had dreamt of the end of our home.
In the end, we’re the last of Valyria. We’re the last Dragonriders.
We are all alone.
The wore out paper was warped in some areas, the ink smudged as if small drops of water had been dropped on it. The paper was smooth under my fingers, if I pressed my fingers deeper into the paper I could feel where the tip of the quill was pressed in too deep.
A wave of sorrow washed over me as I reread the words. I could feel myself, again, mourning a land that I had never seen, that my family had never stepped foot on for hundreds of years. Of course as I got older I always wondered what could have been if Valyria lived or if my family had never left. I could feel this woman's anger and pain, a woman I’d never met but felt so connected to, I could understand how she could feel totally alone in this world because I am too. I have no one. No family or friends. I don’t know how to go back to my time, or if I can even go back. What if I died in that cave when I was brought here?
I drew in a deep breath, collecting myself and reading through the last of the journal entries. The last entry was about Gaemon and Daenys’ wedding. They had married in the ways of Old Valyria, surrounded by their family and members of House Velaryon, who the Targaryens had befriended a few years after the doom.
I must admit, I have not felt such happiness since the birth of my son. Today was the union of Daenys and Gaemon. Their wedding was a small intimate affair with just family members and members of House Velaryon. Daella, Lord Velaryon’s wife, had congratulated me and gifted Daenys a beautiful dress. When she saw it, her eyes blew wide and she could stop smiling.
As a mother, watching your child get married is an entirely different kind of joy, one that makes your heart ache from happiness and from the realization that our children are growing up. Now, Gaemon will start his own family with Daenys and their children will carry on the Targaryen names.
I could feel my fingertips buzz. So I was right. Jelaehna was Gaemons mother. Which means she’s both Daenerys and I’s ancestor. She has to be the link between us.
“My Lady,” I let out gasp, my head snapping back towards the voice. Behind me, a guard stood by the staircase. “Her Grace requests your presence.”
“Uh, yes. One moment, please.” I rearranged the books on the table, grabbing Jelaehna’s journal and the letter from her brothers.
The guard made space for me to pass him and step down the stairs before leading me to where Daenerys was. The double doors opened wide and I was met with five pairs of eyes. Daenerys smiled at me, beckoning me over with her hand to stand beside her while the other four in the room eyed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
It was clear that some didn’t expect another Valyrian looking woman to be on Dragonstone. There were three men, one of which was of dwarf stature, and one woman, all wearing a three headed dragon pin.
They have to be Daenerys’ small council.
“This is Y/n Vellarys. She will be joining us in my quest for the throne,” Daenerys said as if there was no room for arguments.
“Y/n, this is Missandei, my closest companion. Grey Worm, he is the commander of the Unsullied. This is Lord Varys, Master of Whispers, and Lord Tyrion Lannister, my Hand.”
Out of everyone, Missandei was the one who looked the least confused at my sudden intrusion. Daenerys must have told her about me, but I don't know how much.
“Vellarys,” my eyes shifted towards Tyrion. “I apologize, My Lady, but I don’t believe I have ever heard of your house.”
I nodded. “It’s, uh, not from Westeros. My family is from Volantis.”
Me mentioning Volantis caught Varys’ interest. “Volantis? You wouldn’t be referring to the Vellarys of the Old Bloods, My Lady?”
“I am.” I replied, catching a few people off guard.
Tyrion looked over at Varys for him to explain. “The Old Bloods are families in Volantis who can trace their lineage directly back to Valyria. They’re very powerful and influential people.”
“You seem to know a lot about my house.” I say. I could feel his eyes bore into mine. Clearly, to a man like Varys, who himself is a mystery, even to Daenerys, meeting another mystery is almost threatening.
“Not as much as I presume you do,” despite his words being somewhat nice, I felt that there was an underlying message behind them.
“If you don’t mind me asking, exactly why are you here? From what I’ve heard from my little birds, the Vellarys have shown no interest in Queen Daenerys.”
“I’m here for the same reason as you,” I said. “To make Daenerys queen. Take back the throne from the usurpers and bring back the Targaryen dynasty.”
I guess my touching words moved Grey Worm a bit since his frown softened. But despite that Varys still didn’t let up.
“And how can we know you’re to be trusted? We know nothing of you. You’re a complete stranger.”
“Varys,” Daenerys warned.
I moved my hand a bit in front of Daenerys, cutting off her words. “You make a fair point. Yes, I am a stranger… to you. But to Daenerys,” I turned towards her. “We can say we’re long lost relatives.”
Daenerys frowned, “what are you saying?”
“I found these,” I held up the book and letters that were in my hand. “In the library. They belong to Jelaehna Vellarys, one of Aenar Targaryens wives that he brought to Dragonstone after Daenys the Dreamer predicted the Doom of Valyria. She was also the mother of Gaemon the Glorious.”
Daenerys’ face contorted from confusion to shock. I handed off the journal to her, showing her where the evidence was. After reading it, she handed it off towards the others. I also handed her the letters between her and her brothers in Volantis. Varys looked up from the evidence, in his hand, at me looking gobsmacked.
“There’s only one Vellarys family that has ties to Valyria and lives in Volantis. Everything I’ve been told about my ancestors matches with what’s written in there.”
Everyone read over the letters and journal pages, making sure what I was saying was true. I could see their faces shift from surprised to confused.
“Then why didn’t you seek out Her Grace before now?” Missandei asks. “I’m sure you’d heard of her presence in Essos. Why did you wait this long?”
Everyone except Daenerys looked at me waiting for my answer. “Does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I? Besides, I doubt there was much I could do back there. The Gods have brought me here to help Daenerys now, surely there has to be a reason why, right? And I could say the same about Lord Varys. You’ve known about Daenerys the longest out of everyone here, yet you decided to join her side now and not back then.”
Varys looked a little taken aback that he’d be called out. Did I feel bad about it, sorta. As much as good the man has done and will do in the upcoming events he still betrayed Daenerys and I’m sure my arrival has ruffled some of his feathers.
“Ah, yes.” Varys said, “I suppose you make a fair point.”
Seeing that the conversation had ended for now, Daenerys spoke up. “Now that all is out of the way, I’m sure that you all know why we’re all here – to take back my throne. Grey Worm, what is the condition of the Unsullied and Dothraki?”
The commander straightened his back as he reported to his Queen. “The Unsullied have been training well, as well as the Dothraki force. They have been participating in drills and sparring with one another since we have arrived.”
If I remember correctly, the Unsullied are elite warriors from Astapor who have been trained since they were children. However, their armor and weapons don’t seem to reflect their ferocity.
“What about armor and weapons?” I ask.
Grey Worm looks at me confused, “our armor and weapons are fine, My Lady. Their spears are in great condition and the Unsullied take great care of their armor.”
“I know that. I’m just wondering if you think that fighting against the Gold Cloaks and the Kingsguard in leather armor and a singular plate of steel and a spear is a good idea.” Something that always rubbed me the wrong way was the fact that these elite warriors weren’t given better armor or weapons afterall, every great warrior needs equally great weapons.
Grey Worm frowned, offended by my words. “If you are trying to say that our men are not as good as those of Kings Landing, then you are highly mistaken.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is, isn’t it better to get just as great armor and weapons for your warriors? We have to take into account what kind of men are under Cersie Lanninster and plan accordingly. Obryn Martell was known as Dornes Viper. He was the best with whatever weapon his hand could reach, especially a spear. But he died a gruesome death at the hands of The Mountain.” Tyrion visibly swallowed at the thought of the man who had fought for him when he was on trial for Joffrey's death. “We have to be vigilant with the lives of our men. The Dothraki can’t properly fight in the streets of Kings Landing, but the Unsullied can. And on top of that, you’ll be fighting in unknown territory, you’ll need whatever protection you need.”
Grey Worm seemed to mull over my words, slowly coming to terms with them. Daenerys as well seemed to agree with me. “That isn’t a bad idea. We’ll have to find a way to gather supplies to create new armor for the Unsullied.”
The next few hours were spent talking over things I had no idea about so I kept mostly to myself, chiming in whenever I felt that it was necessary. Throughout the meeting I could feel the others looking towards me, almost analyzing me, especially Varys. For such a passive looking man, he had a threatening glare. It was less of a “I will kill you” kind of stare and more like looking into the eyes of a psychopath where just his stare is enough to make you question yourself.
If this meeting has made one thing clear is that my position in this world is still questionable. Not just logically, but also physically. Just because Daenerys trusts me (to what extent, I don't know) doesn't mean that everyone else will. From what I’ve noticed, Missandei won’t be as hard as expected, maybe a bit of smooth talking will be enough to show her that I’m not an enemy. Grey Worm is also in the same boat as Missandei, I just don’t know if my armor comment rubbed him the wrong way or not.
Getting Tyrion on board will most likely be a game of witts or a game of who can down the most glasses of wine. I remember reading about Tyrion's life after Daenerys’ death. Apparently, he had started to deteriorate –drinking all day and night, spending days, almost weeks, in brothels, a real downward spiral. Of course, this destructive lifestyle caught up to him and within a few years, death was knocking on his door. Before passing, he wrote in his diary. If I remember rightly, he claimed that this downward spiral was his atonement for his sins against Daenerys. After the betrayal he suffered by his liver Shae, he said that he slowly started to lose himself, even after meeting and joining Daenerys.
It was speculated that when they came back to Westeros he mentally fell back into the hole that he had tried to climb out of. In all honesty, I couldn't blame him too much.
Imagine coming back to King’s Landing after your sister, who’s abused you your entire life, tries to kill you for the murder of her son even though you didn’t do it, and then your father says he’ll “help” you meaning, “i’m sending you to the wall, loser, have fun freezing” as a sure way of getting rid of you, and then your lover, who was supposed to be your ride or die, betrays you and gives a false testimony that basically just signs your death warrant, and then after all that bullshit you live and decide confront your father, only to find your “lover” in his bed..
Yeah, if I was him, I wouldn’t want to come back to King’s Landing.
I let out a sigh, craning my head back to relieve some tension, only to catch Varys looking directionally at me through my peripheral.
Varys.
He was an interesting man. Even after all these years, there’s practically the same amount of information as there was when he was alive. People have speculated that he’s a Blackfyre or a fucking merman, though, there isn’t much to that theory. However, one thing is true; he is not loyal to Daenerys.
It’s highly suspected that because of him Missandei was captured which led to her execution. He also tried to poison Daenerys and sent letters to the nobel houses where he exposed Jon Snow's true identity. All in all, he’s someone I have to watch out for. Not only for my safety but also for everyone else.
“Y/n?”
My eyes shifted towards Daenerys, “hm?”
“Is everything alright?” She asks.
I nod. “Yeah, just thinking.”
If I want to help Daenerys, I’ll have to use everything I know from my time to change upcoming events. Meaning…
“Cersie has scorpions.”
Confusion washes over everyone's faces.
“Scorpions,” Tyrion repeats, “like the poisonous insect.” He makes a crawling motion with his hands, imitating a scorpion.
I shake my head. “No, not those. Scorpions. The things that took down Rhaenys and Meraxes.” I lock eyes with Daenerys, who seems to be understanding. “Cersie is mass producing them so that she can take down the dragons.”
A look of horror came across everyone's faces as the realization sunk in. Daenerys’ dragons were her trump card, everyone knows that, she brought them back from the dead. So the fact that Cersie has a weapon that could bring them down left an awful taste in everyone's mouth.
“That's preposterous,” Varys says, catching everyone's attention. “I haven't heard of anything like this. How do we even know that what you're saying is the truth.”
“Just because you haven’t heard of it yet doesn't mean it's a lie.” I say. “And who knows, by the time you’ve learned about it, one of Daeenrys’ dragons might have an arrow in its skull.”
“Your Grace, are you sure that we can even trust this information?” Varys says in his sweet condescending voice. He stares down at her, waiting for her answer.
Daenerys takes in a breath, looking between Varys and I. “How sure are you?” She asks, looking into my eyes.
“Very. You know I have no reason to lie to you,” I reply.
“Very well.” She subtly nods. “I trust you.” I let out a small smile and Varys tries his best to hide his annoyance.
“If Cersei does have these scorpions, then how do we protect the dragons?” Missandei asks.
“I’m thinking the same,” Tyrion agrees. “If these scorpions can kill a dragon like Meraxes, then you can just imagine what kind of damage it would do to the ones we have now.”
“There has to be something in here that will tell us how to train the dragons. This castle is littered with libraries. Surely, there is something that will give us a one up on the scorpions.” Daenerys said.
“I’ll make sure to keep my eyes open.” I replied. I was already going to go back to read some of the other journals. And seeing how the library was more of a family only kind of place, I’m sure there has to be something useful.
After wrapping up the meeting, an hour later, it’s just you and Daenerys in the council room after she’d dismissed everyone but you. She looked like she was in deep thought, going over the events of today, and most likely yesterday.
“You’re tense.” I say.
She sighs, slowly releasing the tension, and rubs her face. “This has been so…”
“Confusing.” I finished. “Yeah, I get it too.”
She shook her head, most likely in disbelief. “Not once did I think that any of this could be possible.”
I softly chuckled, nodding. “Me neither. But then again, if Dragons can exist then I guess anything can be possible.”
Daenerys smiles, agreeing with me with a chuckle of her own. Her eyes travel down to the journals on the table. “Is it true?”
I hummed. “There’s even a painting with all of the wives and she’s front and center with the same hair and eyes and necklace.”
“Gods,” she says. “So this means we’re…”
“Cousins. Well, distant cousins.”
She huffs, “very distant.”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “A lot of distance.”
Silence washes over us again as we go over our thoughts.
“Why are you doing this?”
I frowned, looking at her now. “I told you. I want to help you win the Iron Throne.”
“Yes, I know that. But why? Won’t this change everything in your time?”
She’s not wrong. There've been countless movies, shows, and books about time travel where all anyone could talk about was to “not change anything in the past, otherwise there would be consequences in the future,” or something like that.
“My time… just because it’s the future doesn’t mean it’s the best. Especially for a woman.” My face hardened. “It seems that no matter what we do, we’re always questioned and looked down on. We’re selfish if we want to focus on ourselves and our career rather than being a wife and mother. But then we’re low and shallow if we want to settle down with a man and stay at home to take care of the kids. No matter what, we can’t win.”
“Rhaenyra didn’t win the throne even after being named heir by the King. She was questioned and overruled by her stepmother and half brother, despite having every right to ascend the throne. All because she was a woman.” I remember when I learned about the Dance of Dragons and how it all left a bad taste in my mouth. I remembered how all the boys in my class laughed at her, claiming that she would’ve been a worse ruler than the drunkard rapist, Aegon. “Even after all these years, nothing has changed. When I first started to learn about the history of Westeros, I always told myself that if I could change anything, no matter the consequences, I would do what I could to put a true Queen on the throne.”
Daenerys’ lilac eyes looked into mine. I could feel her emotions without having to exchange any words because they were just like mine. Despite being from separate times, nothing has changed. No matter what, a woman has truly never won.
“Somehow, the Gods have given me the chance to do what I’ve always wanted to do. I don’t care what the consequences are in the future. Besides, I don’t even know if I can return back to my time.”
Silence fell over us. I stared out the window behind her, watching as the clouds passed by. Despite being here for only one day, I couldn’t help but feel that all roads towards my time have been severed. As if the Gods were telling me that there is no way back, no matter how much I might try.
I’m pulled out of stupor when I feel a warm hand on top of mine. Daenerys gives my hand a squeeze. She looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. We’ve both lost a lot, all in a short time. In another world, she’d be living in Kings Landing with her family. Aneys would have never been pushed to madness, her mother wouldn’t have died in labor, Rhaegar wouldn’t have been killed at the trident, and Viserys would have grown up looking up to his older brother while also looking out for his younger sister. She would have grown up as she should have.
“Thank you,” she says, giving my hand another squeeze. “I know all of this is very confusing, but thank you for helping me. Hopefully, your contributions will have a positive effect in the future.”
I gave her a smile, “you don’t have to thank me, Daenerys. I would’ve helped regardless of the outcome. It’s your family's throne, not the usurpers.”
—-
The castle grounds were amazing. It really puts into perspective how powerful and massive it is when you’re trying to take a tour of the place. Currently, we were in the south end of the castle where the soldiers would train. The courtyard is spacious, and like the rest of the castle, is dark and gray and littered in dragon motifs.
“It seems that they’re in the middle of a training session,” the servant who’d been giving me the tour siad. We stood off to the side so we wouldn’t distract them, but considering they are the Unsullied it really didn’t matter what we did, as they would never lose focus.
“Are you enjoying the tour, My Lady?” Gray Worm asks as he approaches us. The Servant politely nods towards him and fades back to give us some space.
“It has its highs,” I reply. “I’m not interrupting here, am I?”
“No, My Lady. You’re fine.” I looked towards the Unsullied training. “They’re great warriors.”
“Thank you,” Gray Worm nods his head. “Would you like to look closer?”
“What?” I shake my head. “No, no. You guys are busy. I’m already taking your time, I shouldn’t take anymore.”
“No, please, I insist.” Before I could say anything, I caught a look in Gray Worm’s eyes. Is this a test? To see how I’d act around weapons? Of course, just because Daenerys has welcomed me with open arms, doesn't mean everyone fully has either.
“Alright. Lead the way.”
He holds his arm out and helps me down the stairs and leads me to the training grounds. We went past the archer’s, all of whom hit the bullseye every time. Then past the soldiers sparing one another. Most of them were fighting with spears and shields. If I had remembered correctly, their armor and shields were far more extravagant then what they had now. I made a mental note to talk to Daenerys about it.
Lastly, I was shown to the armory. It was a grand room, stocked with swords, shields, spears, and bow and arrows, as well as pieces of armor. A lot of it looked like it was Valyrian, most likely belonging to the Targaryens.
“This is what was left of the Targaryen armory after the Baratheons fled the island.” Gray Worm explains. He points out certain pieces and explains what they are.
“Fucking hell,” I mumbled, getting a closer look. “Not once did I think I’d be here of all places.” My eyes raked over the endless amount of weapons, taking it all in. No way any museum could beat this.
“Would you like to spar?” Gray Word asks, catching me off-guard.
“Me? I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I shake my head.
“You were not taught?” He asks.
I shake my head again. No actually, where I’m from we don’t fight with swords anymore. “Never had an opportunity to.”
He goes quiet for a second and I think that he’s dropped it, but he surprises me when he speaks up again. “Would you like to learn?”
“I don’t think I’d be a good idea. Besides, aren't you supposed to start learning at a young age? I’m pretty sure my ship has sailed,” I joked. Gray Worm slightly frowns at my “odd way” of speaking.
“That may be true however, anyone can learn at any age.” He looks between the swords and then me. “So, would you like to learn?”
It wasn’t a bad idea in hindsight. This is Westeros during the Game of Thrones Era. Practically everyone dies if they’re not prepared and I can’t take any chances here if I want to make it back to my time without a scratch.
“Alright. I do.”
a/n : finalyyy it's here. i know it's a long one, but i had so much that i wanted to write. i'll try to keep the next few chapters a little light, but no promises lol. feel free to comment your thoughts and do all that other stuff <;3
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About how Rhaenyra remained recorded in historical chronicles as a princess after her death
How else? This is Westeros, guys. A patriarchal and at times misogynistic society in which a woman's purpose is to bear heirs and be submissive to her husband.
Read about how the chronicles write about women who differed from the norm of the Seven Kingdoms and Essos.
Rhaenys and Visenya. Both were queens, both fought in battle, both sat on the Iron Throne and ruled in Aegon's absence. Visenya wounded Aegon with her sword. How many women in Westeros could, in the presence of witnesses, draw a sword from its scabbard, attack their husband and challenge his opinion? And that's how it all ended. Rumors were spread about Rhaenys that she allegedly cheated on her husband, and her only son was a bastard. Visenya was allegedly a dark witch and was involved in the death of her husband.
During the reign of Meria Martell, Dorne did not fall to the dragons. Yes, Dorne turned into a desert during the war with the Targaryens, but centuries later, the Dornish are proud of their origins, proud that they remained rebellious, proud that their ancestors were able to kill one of the Conquerors' dragons. But nevertheless, in historical chronicles they write about Meria as a liar and a coward, and her enemies spread rumors that the princess had intercourse with a stallion.
As a teenager, Rhaena Targaryen was not as outgoing and charming as her sister Alysanne. She loved to fly on a dragon wherever she wanted, and did not hide her affection for her ladies-in-waiting. While on tour with her parents and brothers, Rhaena didn't want to waste her time cozying up to a horde of strange lords. As a result, she was not popular and people began to spread rumors that the princess had lost her virginity to a commoner, which was not true.
Daenerys began to conquer Essos and abolish slavery, and remember how many vile lies people told Quentyn Martell about her.
And Rhaenyra? She was to be the first woman to be a full queen rather than a consort. They began to slander her from the very moment it became clear that Viserys would not make Aegon his heir.
Alicent began to spread rumors about twelve or thirteen year old Rhaenyra's affair with Criston, and she also disputed the parentage of Rhaenyra's eldest sons, and her green supporters eagerly supported her. Eustace constantly talked about how Rhaenyra had become a fat ugly creature that no one wanted, and she, dressed in armor, was allegedly cut by the Iron Throne. Mushroom shared his depraved fantasies about Rhaenyra with those around him. Have you noticed that when Mushroom said something unpleasant about Aegon the Usurper, people remind him that Mushroom was a court jester and you shouldn’t believe everything he said, but nevertheless all his stories about Rhaenyra were supposedly “the pure truth” .
If you want to know my point of view, Aegon the Usurper could live a long life, eat babies, turn the castle into a brothel, sacrifice virgins, but people would still remember him as a king because he was a man. I'm sure that even if Rhaenyra had come to the throne peacefully and her reign had been successful, there would still be people arguing that Rhaenyra should not have been queen and that she stole the throne from her younger brother.
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