Jacaerys Velaryon - Blog Posts

Daughter of Tyraxes

Goddess of Peace, Wisdom, Strategy, and Reason

The Eyrie was absolutely beautiful, pale white stone gleaming in the light of the moonlight. The Keep rests at the very top of a mountain, making it difficult to reach, but making it seem ethereal in a way. From every room within the Eyrie has a stunning view, with every window giving them the view of the sky, nearby mountains, or the nearby cities.

Queen Alicent Hightower despised it. Hated the Eyrie, hated the cold mountain air, hated the views, hated the servents, and Lords and Ladies of the Vale. Every look she recieved, instead of being in awe of her piousness, grace, and beauty, they looked upon her in contempt, viewing her as a replacement of the Late Queen Aemma Arryn.

They seemed to forget that the Queen was a failure, having only given the King a singular daughter while she had given him two sons and a daughter. Yet she was punished, forced to watch as his whore of a daughter flaunted her position as heir, carrying around her bastard, alongside her swordswallowing husband.

She had given him a son, the son he had killed Aemma Arryn for, and yet he was not given the title he deserved. The title of Heir that was his right as a firstborn son. It was unfair to her and her sons! Shoved to the side as he doted endlessly upon his daughter and grandson, especially now that she was pregnant again.

The whore had barely waited six months before announcing she was pregnant again, and now at nearing 9 months she had packed up the entire household to visit her mothers home. And of course, the King had done whatever she asked of him.

So now she was sitting in this too small room with seven of her ladies in waiting embroidering a new pillow, listening to the chatter.

"Did you see what the Princess was wearing?" Cassandra Baratheon asked, leaning forward eagerly. As the youngest lady, at only 10-and-1, she loved to gossip and often heard the most scandalous gossip since she was ignored on account of her age and gender.

"Northern rags," Lady Maria Redwyne sneered, rocking slowly in her chair. As Queen Alicents Aunt, sister of her mother, she held seniority within the seven ladies. "They make her look the savage she is."

"Not that these people see it that way. Have you seen how they treat her? It's as if she is already Queen," Celia Lannister stated, shaking her head. The cousin of Jason and Tyland Lannister she was just as vain and proud, forming a deep dislike for Princess Rhaenyra and her ladies.

"If only the King would see reason," Lady Leyla Brackens murmured. "A woman ruling over the Kingdoms? We'd go bankrupt in months with all her fancies and expensive taste."

"She'd probably offend everyone she talked to," Ceryse Hightower chirped, gigling with Cassandra. As the two youngest, with Ceryse being 10-and-2, they had formed a close bond of friendship.

"The men at her feet would probably ignore her actions just to continue laying in her bed," Lady Mari Ambrose scoffed, sneering. Lady Leyla and Lady Maria nodded as the two youngest giggled.

"Hush girls," Lady Anya Peake barked, severe brown eyes sharp. "If anyone were to hear your words on the Princess our heads would roll. Have your parents not taught you to whisper?"

The oldest of her ladies, Lady Anya was second only to Lady Maria, for she was Queen Alicents paternal great-Aunt. A severe, pious woman, she was normally the one to escort Alicent to the Sept to pray.

"Unfortunately my husband is besotted by his daughter, unable to see any flaws she has. This extends to both her husband, and son, as I'm sure you've seen," Queen Alicent added, sadly. "Our own children are neglected by him, and so often does he refer to the Princess as his only daughter. My heart aches for my dear Halaena."

Her ladies murmured agreements, and hopes that Halaena did not feel left out. While her words were true, she did not truly wish for him to spend time with her children because he'd share the Targaryens queer customs with them.

"One day the King will see reason," Lady Maria swore, eyes darkening. If he didn't they all knew what would happen.

War.

Lady Annara Celtigar, Lady Amanda Arryn, and Lady Sara Snow watched over Crown Prince Jacaerys as he sat beside Vermithors snout, playing with his wooden figures. A group of five Dragonkeepers stood nearby, just in case.

"I never thought I'd see a dragon acting as a babysitter," Lady Annara giggled, earning a snort from Lady Sara.

"A dragons connection to their rider is something we will never understand. The closest we have ever come is when we bonded with Griffens, or Direwolves," Lady Amanda stated wisely. Both girls, barely 10-and-6, watched her in shock and awe before realizing the significance.

Silence fell before Lady Sara muttered, "He really does look like a babysitter."

Lady Annara burst into a fit of giggles, cutting herself off when Vermithor huffed out smoke, orange-yellow eye focusing on her.

"I feel like I'm being told to shut up," Lady Annora whispered, trembling as the Dragons gaze returned to his rider. Jacaerys, with no fear, smacked his dragons snout.

"Bad. Good lady," Jacaerys called, glaring at the dragon in defense of his favorite Lady-in-Waiting. Lady Amanda and Lady Annara both cooed at his sweetness as Lady Sara smiled affectionately.

The little prince had won their hearts near instantly after his birth. While several of Rhaenyra's Ladies-and-Maids-in-Waiting had come after her historic birth, they had all fallen for the sweet little prince and they were excited for the Crown Princess' next child.

"Such a sweet boy. He will be a wonderful King when it is time," Lady Annara said.

"Unfortunately, his personality is not set in stone, Annora. It will be up to his mother, father, and us to make sure he and all of his future siblings are raised well," Lady Amanda corrected.

"Prince Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra were talking of when it would be considered appropriate to begin having lessons to be a knight," Lady Sara commented, brow furrowing a little.

"What else did they mention?" Lady Annara questioned, vivid blue eyes sharp as she lowered her voice.

"They decided that once he turned 4 he would begin watching the Knights practicing before being allowed to train at 5, and squiring would begin upon his 8th nameday," Lady Sara stated, glancing around to check for servents or others. Fortunately, few would dare come when Vermithor was there, so they had complete privacy. "Princess Rhaenyra mentioned sending him to the Wall for a time so he may be a true knight that has not just seen tourneys and jousts."

"That would be a smart play," Lady Amanda agreed, nodding. "It would strengthen his ties to the North, and show them that a good King will sit the Iron Throne."

"Allies could be made as well, but . . ." Lady Annara hesitated. "Those that take the black are often criminals, would he be safe there?"

"I doubt they would send him without Vermithor. Besides, by that time he will be fully knighted," Lady Sara corrected.

"Good. Did anyone else think that Princess Rhaenyra seemed quite confident that it was a girl?"

"Confident enough to create a contract that would make her heir of the Vale," Lady Amanda said. Neither were surprised. "While the Vale is behind the Princess, this will give them something to hold. A Princess of their own, who will one day care for them as Princess Rhaenyra does."

They understood what the older woman truly meant. When King Viserys died there would be war, and having the Vale and the North securely behind Princess Rhaenyra and her children would tilt the scales in their favour.

Lady Jeyne Arryn stood at the balconey doors of Crown Princess Rhaenyra's quarters, cradling the newest Princess in her arms. Smiling down at the babe, she could not help but see the similarity in the babes face to Princess Daella's face from the portraits her Grandfather had commisioned that were found in several halls of the Eyrie.

"She's beautiful, your majesty," Lady Jeyne murmured, completely captivated. Crown Princess Rhaenyra smiled, leaning back against the headboard as her husband, Prince Laenor, carefully wiped her forehead of sweat with a cooled rag.

"Please, Lady Jeyne, we are cousins. You have my permission to call me Rhaenyra."

"Then you have mine to call me Jeyne, Rhaenyra."

Both women shared gentle smiles.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra. You have given me the Heir I have been so worried of giving," Lady Jeyne admitted sadly.

"If I am to understand it, the boy you would have been forced to name as heir is Arnold Arryn's son?" Prince Laenor asked, leaning forward.

"His nephew, through his sisters marriage to Jackson Redfort, my Lady Jessamyne's elder brother. As the second son of a second wife he has been raised modestly these past 4 years, but we shall see what kind of man he will grow into," Lady Jeyne stated, glancing towards the bedroom door. While she despised Arnolds Line, the boy was innnocent, as was his mother.

"And if he turns out like his Uncle?" Princess Rhaenyra asked, wincing as she shifted in the bed.

"Then your daughter will be free to pick any Valeman she wishes, as long as they understand that her children will take the name Arryn."

"Good."

"May I ask what you plan to name her?" Lady Jeyne asked.

"Ah yes, our apologies," Prince Laenor said, offering an awkward grin. "We have decided upon the name Alyssa, both for Alyssa Velaryon and Alyssa Targaryen as well as Alyssane Targaryen."

"A strong, beautiful name," Lady Jeyne agreed smiling down at little Alyssa. "Mo oidhre." The Old Language of the Vale flowed effortlessly from her tongue, making Alyssa coo in delight.

In the moonlight her red-gold hair shone softly, reminding Jeyne of spun gold in sunlight, where it glowed red. The soft curls covered her entire head, nearly hiding her beautiful blue-purple eyes.

"Cosúil leis an spéir roimh titim na hoíche." (Like the sky before nightfall.)

"When I have recovered, I wish to announce her to the Vale if possible."

"Of course. The Vale will know of my heir, of your daughter, Rhaenyra."

Three days had passed since Lady Jeyne Arryn had first held her heir, since Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen had given birth but no one outside of the two, Prince Laenor Velaryon, and Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen knew of her name, so a feast was thrown.

Queen Alicent wore a velvet green dress with golden leaves sewed into the sleeves and skirts. The design of the dress was beautiful, but the itchy fabrics it was made of made it look less so. All three of her children originally accompanied her, but Princess Halaena cried starting Prince Aemond off so the two had to be taken back to the nursury.

Prince Aemond wore a doublet of the same itchy material, shown by how he constantly tugged at it and tried to take it off. His caretaker was struggling to keep him dressed, much to Queen Alicent's irritation but there was nothing she could do.

Lady Jeyne Arryn stood before them all, with King Viserys, Crown Princess Rhaenyra, and Prince Laenor at her sides. She wore a beautiful dress of blue and white, with fabric forming 'wings' that connected to her wrist using silver bracelets.

King Viserys and his daughter wore red and black, while Prince Laenor wore blue, green, and gold complememtimg each other quite nicely.

Much to her distaste, Queen Alicent had not been allowed up onto the dais where the Moonwood Throne sat.

"After hours of hardship, my daughter gave birth to her own daughter, another Princess for House Targaryen and House Velaryon," King Viserys announced.

Rhaenyra stepped forward with her husband, hand resting in the crook of his arm, "My daughter came when the moon had risen to its peak, and just as my eldest son was, she has been marked by the gods. I have been blessed, both in birth and in life, for this opportunity."

"For years you have all worried who would take the Lordship of the Vale, of the Arryns, upon my death," Lady Jeyne stated, bringing everyones attention to her. Queen Alicents heart dropped. "Through my grandfathers second wife, Princess Daella, and my aunt, the late Queen Aemma Arryn, I am cousin to Crown Princess Rhaenyra as she is mine. Through her, her daughter holds the blood of Arryns, so I have made my decision."

With a nod, Crown Princess Rhaenyra carefully placed her daughter in her cousins arms.

"Princess Alyssa Velaryon, shall take the name Arryn upon reaching her 6-and-10 nameday, where henceforth she shall reside here in the Vale. Upon her 7-and-10 nameday she shall marry Theodore Redfort who is an Arryn through his mother to strengthen my bloodline. Her children shall inherit the name Arryn. As such, I introduce you to Princess Alyssa Velaryon, Heiress to House Arryn, and Heir to the Vale!"

The crowd of Valeman erupted into cheers that seemed to shake the halls of the Eyrie until a roar truly shook the keep. Silence fell as everyone turned their gazes to the dais.

"Sil'wing wan' her rider," Crown Prince Jacaerys announced, pronouncing some of his words wrong but getting his point across.

"Then she will recieve her rider," Princess Rhaenyra stated, taking her daughter back into her arms. The enfire crowd followed the princess to the courtyard where the she-dragon had landed. The same place where Ronnel Arryn had taken his first flight upon the dragon, Vhagar.

Silverwing seemed to glimmer in the light of the setting sun, and many thought, upon seeing the she-dragon, that she would be a perfect match for the Princess of the Vale.

Lowering her head she crooned to her rider, earning a delighted burble.

And so Princess Rhaenyra took her daughter upon the dragoneses back and took to the skies as the Greens watches in anger and the Blacks watched on in awe and delight.

Princess Alyssa of House Velaryon, Third of Her Name, Heiress to House Arryn, Heir to the Vale, The Moonborn, Daughter of the Vale, She-Dragon of the Vale, She-Who-Was-Born-In-The-Night, the Peaceful, the Diligent, the Strategist, the Falcon of House Targaryen, rider of Silverwing, the Silver Queen, the Beautiful, the Pearl, the Protector of the Vale, had been born.

Son of Arrax

King of the Gods, God of Justice, Law, Order, and Governance.

Queen Alicent Hightower stood at the balconey of her apartments – the lavishly furnished Queens Apartments – eyes unfocused as she looked down towards Aemma's Garden, only recently finished by the wrokers sent by Lord Tyrell as a gift to the pregnant Crown Princess. From where she stood she could smell all the different flowers that lined the beautiful garden and surrounded a pavillion carved from the same white stone the Eyrie was made of.

She waited impatiently for news of Princess Rhaenyra's labors, praying to the Seven that she would have a girl, furthering Prince Aegons claim. The skin around her nails was torn to shreds with drops of blood falling to the stone beneath her feet, but she hardly noticed.

Surely King Viserys Targaryen, her husband and Princess Rhaenyra's father, would finally see the craven whore his daughter was after she birthed the bastard of Ser Harwin Strong. He had allowed her to run rampant, giving in to every whim and wish she had. Why just recently he had given her the Heir's apartments! Only slightly smaller than the Kings own apartments and far larger than her own, which was just disrespectful to her, the Queen! Princess Rhaenyra and her heathen husband now had an entire floor within Maegor's Holdfast to themselves and their 'household', while she only had a single corridor filled with rooms!

Aegon deserved to have the Heirs Apartments as the Kings Firstborn, not the Royal Whore of the Red Keep and her Sword-Swallowing husband!

But no matter how many people she told the truth, those who adored Rhaenyra gave her everything. Her Uncle, Prince Daemon the Whoremonger himself sent ships of men, servants, healers, and midwives, an entire household of those he had personally vetted as the letter that had accompanied them had boasted. Alongside those ships were those filled with jewels, cloth of all kinds from Essos, Pentos, and the Free Cities, toys for the babe, furniture of all kinds for Princess Rhaenyra's new Apartments all sent by Lady Laena, Prince Daemons wife.

Lord Corlys was much the same, sending for the most exotic fruits, vegetables, seafood, and meat his money could buy. King Viserys had not only gifted her the Heir's Apartments but everything the Late Queen Aemma had owned from dresses to jewels, leaving her, the true Queen who had done her duty, to buy new ones after all of hers had been taken. It was humiliating to have to buy an entire chest of jewelry!

Lady Jeyne Arryn had also sent gifts, including the stone for the pavilion, such as old items that belonged to Princess Daella Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn. She even sent objects that had once belonged to her grandfather, Rodrick Arryn, much to the shock of everyone.

The entirety of the North had sent her gifts as well, from furs to men, simply out of loyalty and of course the Tyrells had built the princess a garden that was then named after her mother, planting four Weirwood trees in the corners of the garden much to her displeasure.

Fortunately Princess Rhaenys seemed to realize that the child was a bastard and the Baratheons had followed her lead in not interacting with the couple outside of what was deemed respectable. She was oft seen conversing with her son, conversations that ended with him storming away in fury, after the Princess likely tried to convince him of his wifes sins. But the poor man was besotted. No man had ever doted over their wife the way Prince Laenor did.

A quiet knock pulled the Queen from her musings. The door opened allowing Ser Criston Cole, her loyal guard to poke his head inside, "It is Tayla. She says she was sent with word of the Princess' labors."

"Let her in, Ser Criston. I wish to hear the happy news," Queen Alicent stated, tucking her hands behind her back.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Tayla hurried inside waiting for the door to close before speaking. "The Crown Princess has given birth to a boy, Your Grace."

Queen Alicent scowled for only a moment before smoothing her features back out. "Do you know how the Princess fares? Does she suffer the same as her mother, the late Queen, did? And the boy, tell me of his looks? Who does he resemble more, his mother, his father, a relative perhaps?"

"The Crown Princess is well, already up and moving from what I saw, Your Majesty. She refused the wetnurse the King offered, told everyone within that she would not let her son be fed by a stranger when she was right there with milk to spare," Tayla smiled at the memory of the Crown Princess. "And Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen is beautiful, My Queen. A perfect mix of his mother and father."

The smile fell from Queen Alicents lips, "What? What do you mean?!"

"The babe had the hair color of his mother but its curlier, I believe. And his eyes are from her too, but his skin color is more like his fathers. I was not close enough to see his facial features but I could hear Lord Velaryon and the King celebrating him."

Queen Alicent stared at the servent silently before commanding, "Take me to them. Now. I wish to meet the newest member of the Velaryon family." She made sure to emphasize the name Velaryon, believing the maid had mispoken but she did not correct her self.

"Of course, your Majesty. The Crown Princess has been taken back to her Apartments in order to rest." Tayla turned to lead the Queen to the Heir's Apartments as Ser Criston Cole fell into step behind her, white armor gleaming as his cloak fluttered dramatically.

The walk was considerably shorter than Queen Alicent expected but that did not make it anymore pleasant. The walls of the entire third floor of the Holdfast had Valyrian Tapestries depicting family members and their respective dragons, starting with Daenys the Dreamer. There were even Velaryon tapestries hung up, pictures of sea creatures of myths and legends that made Queen Alicent shudder.

The halls were lit with dragonglass latterns that threw beautiful patterns along the walls. The group of three passed by several members of Princess Rhaenyra's Household, including Lady Sara Snow, Lady Annara Celtigar, and Lady Mara Karstark.

The large black wood door at the end of the hallway had Syrax, the Princess' dragon carved into the wood and filled with gold, the large green emerald eye acting as the handle. Standing outside was Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Arryk Cargyll, the Kings guard for the day, Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Erryk Cargyll, the Princess' Guard, as well as six other guards, Velaryon and Arryn based upon their armor were posted in the hallway.

Ser Strong opened the door, calling into the room, "Queen Consort Alicent of House Hightower." He stepped out of the way, eyeing Ser Cole, who was smirking haughtily.

They knew his secret.

Sweeping inside, Queen Alicent found Princess Rhaenyra resting upon a beautiful, cushioned chaise, her youngest lady, Lady Sera Dondarrion, working oils through her long, golden-white hair.

"Ahh, my dear Queen!" King Viserys called, sat upon an armchair with his grandson cradled within his arms. "You will be most delighted to see what the Gods have gifted my dear grandson!"

Her smile nearly fell, but she quickly plastered it back in place, "A gift from the Seven-Who-Are-One? I would be delighted, husband."

"Come, come," King Viserys said, using his head to gesture her over. Coming to stand at his side, purposefully displacing Lord Corlys, who ignored her to focus on his grandson, she looked down, fully expecting a carbon copy of Ser Harwin Strong, no matter the reports of Tayla.

Instead soft, thick, curly golden-white hair formed a halo upon his head, the sunlight that streamed through the window giving it a soft glow. Purple eyes, the same as Rhaenyra's down to the color and placement of the darker black specks, stared back at her though she noticed a strange sheen to them, seemingly giving them a golden tint when the sunlight them. Dark skin, though a few shades lighter than Prince Laenors or Lord Corlys', though it was likely that it would darken if he became a sailor like his grandfather and father.

"Look," Viserys murmured, lightly brushing back the curls piled onto his tiny forehead. In white lines upon his forehead, etched into his skin, was a crown with a strange rune in the very center.

"It means 'King'," Lord Corlys stated, smiling widely. "Its an Old Language, shared by the First Men, Valyrians, and Ghiscari. The last time I saw anything like it was while I was visiting Old Ghis."

Laenor rolled his eyes as the two dads shared a laugh, while the babe cooed, turning his attention to his father.

"Does he have a name?" Alicent asked, voice tense. A glance to Rhaenyra told her that she could hear the tone change and was amused by it.

"Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, First of His Name, and Heir to me, the Heir to the Irone Throne and Heiress to House Targaryen. Tonight we plan to announce him to all the Great Houses," Princess Rhaenyra stated, smile softening as she looked to her babe.

"I congratulate you, Princess. Your Mother must be looking down upon you in happiness for your success, from the Strangers Embrace," Queen Alicent said, trying to hide a sharp smirk as Rhaenyra's gaze flashed.

"Lady Helaena, your dearest Mother, one of my own dear mothers companion must be looking upon me favorably as well. It is a shame she left so young, but she lives on in the paintings you or your father must have. At least I can look upon the mirror and see my mother at times, but you, my lady, are the perfect imitation of your father," Rhaenyra grinned, teeth sharp and poised at the throat. Alicent nearly gaped at Rhaenyra, shocked by the low blow. The Princess knew she had no paintings of her mother because they were too expensive for a second son to afford.

"Thank you," Queen Alicent barely hid a snarl with a false smile. "My husband, I fear I must return to mine own chambers to ready myself for the feast tonight."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek to hide the hatred and anger she yearned to let them see.

"Of course, my dear. I shall see you tonight then." The king was far more focused on the babe than he was his wife, not even registering the kiss on his cheek.

Queen Alicent stalked outside, Ser Cristin quickly falling into step with one last look towards Ser Harwin.

How could Rhaenyra have said something so cruel! Her father was right. This was no longer her friend but her enemy. Aegon would take his rightful place upon the Throne. Viserys would eventually have to see the truth, that his daughter was unfut to rule, that women were unfit to be in places of such power.

From now on she had to begin finding allies for herself, especially now that her father was no longer the Kings trusted Hand and advisor. Her first act would have to be discrediting the rumors that were sure to appear once people saw the birthmark upon Prince Jacaerys' forehead.

Nearly flinging her door open she ordered the servent within to find her best green dress. The maid bowed and scurried into the adjacent chamber to find one while other servents were called to bath her.

For two hours she allowed herself to be pampered, both in the bath and outside it, before allowing the servents to carefully lace up the beautiful generald green dress with tight sleeves, a high neckline, and beautiful green detailing around the bust and waist, emphasizing her small figure. After Aemond she had easily dropped the added pregnancy weught, something she doubted Rhaenyra would be able to do.

Queen Aemma had always looked swelled, or unhealthy and it wouldn't surprise her if Rhaenyra was the same.

Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen smiled as Cylia and Morgana Strong carefully aided her towards her bathing chamber, where a steaming bath awaited. Maester Mellos, who the King had allowed in after Queen Alicents departure, had tried to insist that a hot bath was unhealthy but the healer had disregarded that. Apparently the woman had helped Saera Targaryen give birth several times and the older woman always felt better after a steaming bath. It was a Targaryen thing, she said.

Rhaenyra could see the different herbs one of the other healers had added and could not help but ask, "What kind of herbs are in here?" She sank into the water with a near moan, muscles relaxing.

"Yarrow to reduce swelling, lemon balm to keep fevers and sickness at bay, and witch hazel to help the healing process," Healer Ana answered, carrying over a cup of tea. "Your grace, I suggest drinking nettle tea for the next three days in order to quicken the healing process. It shall also aid in milk production to make your son grow quicker and healthier."

Nodding, Rhaenyra took the tea, relieved at the warmth that slid down her throat. Luckily it had been sweetened by honey and the slightest bit of milk so she could ignore the bitter tasting liquid easier. "Thank you."

"Of course."

She was happy to note that Healer Ana had remembered her decision to breastfeed Jacaerys herself, rather than passing him off to a wet nurse as most did. Her and Laenor had agreed that they could not trust anyone, so it would be safer, and seemingly healthier according to the midwives, for him to feed from her.

For a good hour she soaked, drinking several cups of tea during the time, as Morgana and Cylia painted her nails a beautiful dark red, a very expensive shade her goodsister had sent her. Once the water had cooled, she was dried and dressed in a plain towel so Sera could braid her hair in a simple crown.

The dress she chose was black with red and gold trim, long draping sleeves filled with soft fur, made in the Northern style. It had been a gift from Lord Rickon Stark and his young son, Cregan Stark, and one she quite adored. Pulling it on, she admired the softness as she swept out of her dressing room, finding all three men still cooing over little Jacaerys.

"Father, Goodfather, I believe you the feast will be beginning in an hour," Rhaenyra said, smiling at the slight panic both men obviously felt.

"Ahh, you're right, my dear," Viserys pressed a kiss against her cheek as his eldest gently took Jacaerys. "I shall see you tonight for the feast."

"As will I. You did well, my son," Lord Corlys stated, clapping Laenor on the shoulder. He gave his father a strained smile, escorting the two from her Apartments, before nearly slumping against the door.

"I can not believe him sometimes. Did you see his face when we introduced Jacaerys?!"

"Did you see the Queens? She looked as if she sucked a lemon when she saw our little boy."

Laenor laughed, vividly remembering the shocked look upon her face, as well as the look on her face when she saw his marking.

"I must admit, I was surprised by the marking as well. I know Arrax told us he would lay claim upon his . . . our? . . . son, but I did not realize it would be so visible," Laenor admitted, lightly brushing his fingers over Jacaerys' forehead, smiling at the quiet coo.

"It is a boon either way. The servents, healers, and midwives that were present during the birth will gossip, and after tonight, when all the Lords and Ladies we invited see it they will know that Jacaerys is my rightful heir. The Greens will see that he is no bastard, that he is more Valyrian than the Queens half-breed children."

Laenor grinned, pressing a kiss against her cheek. "I love when you get all viscious. Unfortunate that I must depart from my beautiful lady wife and handsome little boy to dress myself for tonight's feast." He pressed another kiss to her lips to further seal the act, having noticed Sera emerge from her dressing room, before taking his leave.

The Great Hall was beautifully decorated with tables made of oak holding dragonglass vases filled with flowers, red, black, sea-green, and silver silks across the tables. Every seat was filled, with every Great House having arrived within the last two weeks and several smaller Houses having been invited as well.

House Hightower, House Redwyne, House Lannister, and House Bracken all wore green, whether it was a dress, jewelry, or a doublet. Everyone else within the hall wore black alongside their House colors, filling the hall with an array of colors.

House Targaryen and House Velaryon sat at the largest long table situated at the front of the hall, with nearly all of them in attendance. Princess Rhaenys, who had yet to be introduced to her grandson, had a pinched look upon her face, much to Ser Otto Hightowers delight.

It was very obvious to everyone that she thought, knew, that Prince Laenor and Crown Princess Rhaenyra's newbirn son was a bastard, likely begotten by Ser Harwin Strong.

The doors swung open, "Announcing Crown Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne, Heiress to the House of Targaryen, Future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and her husband, Prince Laenor Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark, High Tide, and to the House of Velaryon, Future King Consort to Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

The announcer did not give the name of the babe swaddled in Prince Laenors arms, giving the Royal Family that opportunity to officially announce him and his titles.

"My dearest daughter," King Viserys called, standing from his seat at the head of the table. "Lords and Ladies of the Realm, I must say today is a glorious day for the combined Targaryen-Velaryon. My heir has had her own heir and secured her lineage."

"Thank you, father. Thank you, Lords and Ladies, for traveling so far to be here with us on this joyous occasion. While I am before you tonight I wish to address the rumors about the birth of my son," Crown Princess Rhaenyra stated, holding herself with grace. Prince Laenor eyed the Hightowers who were all sharing small sneers with each other.

"Yesterday afternoon my wife began her labors within the Throne Room, before giving birth to my son early this morning in the shadow of the Iron Throne," Prince Laenor announced, fighting back a smirk when the sneers dropped and everyone one began whispering.

"Now, I would like to introduce our son. Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, Heir to the Heiress of House Targaryen, and Heir to the Heir of the Iron Throne, Future King of the Seven Kingdoms!"

The Blacks cheered for their future Queen and King as Crown Princess Rhaenyra tilted her son towards the crowd, showing them his curly golden-whitr hair and dark skin.

"Now please, feast! Celebrate!" Laenor shouted, earning even louder cheers as the two rounded the table to sit down.

"Laenor," Rhaenys murmured, purple eyes boring into her gooddaughters head. "Princess Rhaenyra."

"Mother," Laenor greeted coldly, not even deigning to look at his mother. She glared at her son, making to speak before Corlys cut her off.

"Rhaenys," Corlys began, keeping his voice low. "Just hold the boy for a moment."

"I refuse."

Laenors muscles locked in place, grey-purple ryes flashing with fire. Rhaenyra knew that if they had been closer to the Dragon Pit they'd be able to hear Seasmokes roars of fury.

"Then I believe its high time you return to Driftmark, Princess Rhaenys," Laenor snarled, viciously stabbing a clam upon his plate. "I will not have my son mocked, I will not let you give the Greens fuel to attack my wife and son. So if you are going to act like a petty child than I do not desire to have your company during this celebration, nor does my wife or son."

Rhaenys and Corlys both gaped at their son as Rhaenyra smiled, placing a hand on the crook of his arm and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "I thank you, husband mine."

"Laenor . . ." Rhaenys hesitated when she saw the look in her sons eyes. "Fine. Let me see the babe."

Rhaenyra was reluctant to pass over her son to the woman who had been the source of several of their problems recently but she did. Jacaerys settled in his grandmothers arms, only opening his arms once he was comfortable.

Staring down at the babe that looked so similar to Laenor as a babe, Rhaenys could not help the wave of guilt that flowed through her. "Laenor, Rhaenyra, I–"

The deep gutteral bellow of a dragon made the castle shake, scaring the guests within the hall. Wives reached for husbands as men reached for blades, looking around wildly.

"That . . . Is that not Vermithor?" Corlys questioned, standing from his seat. King Viserys sought to calm the people but another riar from the Bronze Fury only stirred them up more.

Jacaerys cooed, purple eyes gleaning as he was taken back into his mothers arms. Looking down Rhaenyra found the same love she felt for Syrax, the same she saw reflected in Laenors eyes whenever he saw or spoke of Seasmoke, and she knew.

"SILENCE!" Laenor commanded, having recognized what was happening as well. "Vermithor is not here to attack, but to claim his rider."

Crown Princess Rhaenyra swept from the Great Hall, heading towards the courtyard that Vermithor would have to land in if he wished to fit.

The Bronze Fury was stunning with scales of beaten bronze and copper, red-bronze spikes around his narrow face and along his spine seemed to shine in the light of the setting sun.

Hundreds of people, nobility and smallfolk alike, were witness to Vermithor meeting Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen before allowing Prince Laenor and his rider upon his back for a flight around King's Landing. There was no possible way for Otto to manipulate the circumstances to better serve him. Everyone would know what had happened that day.

Crown Prince Jacaerys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, Heir to the Heir of the Iron Throne, Heir to the Heiress of House Targaryen, the Born King, the Divine Ruler, He Who Was Born in the Shadow of the Iron Throne, the Lawful, the Bringer of Justice, the Judge, the Rider of Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, the King's Mount, had been born.

The Deal of Gods and Humans

Prince Laenor of House Velaryon sat in a plush velvet chair within his wife's small study, sipping sour Arbor Gold from a golden chalice in silence as he watched Crown Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen stare out the window of her study. The light highlighted the features of her youth, reminding him of the heavy burden that had been placed upon his shoulders and was now shared between them. She was a little girl, still, with the weight of a Kingdom upon her shoulders and yet she stood with the strength of a dragon against the lit towers aiming to bring her crashing down.

"I'm sorry," Laenor murmured, tearing his wife from her thoughts. "If only the Gods had not made like this. If only they had made me like my father or Prince Daemon then maybe–"

"Stay your tongue!" Rhaenyra ordered, sharply. She whirled around, pale grey skirts swirling along her legs as she stalked towards him. "Had the Gods not made you this way then I would never have agreed to this marriage, no matter that my inheritance would be stripped away. I agreed to take you as my husband because I can trust you within this nest of vipers my home has become. You are my husband and my future King Consort, the man who shall aid my rule and support me."

Laenor gave a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, "I am the husband that cannot give his wife heirs. The man that cannot see a woman for the beauty she is, and feels no lust for the pleasures others speak of."

"We shall figure something out. It will just take time."

"What if you took a paramour? He could give you children that I could claim as mine. They would be mine in name and that is all that matters."

"And if they resembled any but me? Or you? They would be called bastards even if they were an exact copy of Rodrick Arryn or Jocelyn Baratheon as long as they did not have the Valyrian coloring. The Queen and her supporters would make our lives a living hell if she even had an inkling that they were bastards. Even now, she seeks to undermine me."

"I thought the wedding was her only move," Laenor stated, sitting up. Worry shone in his grey-purple eyes. They might not be in love as other matches were but they were partners.

"No. Every day she gathers the Ladies of the Keep for tea and speaks behind my back, spreading rumors of my virtue, of your taste in men, of how I am a heathen whore unfit to be the Heir to the Iron Throne," Rhaenyra sneered, sitting down in the weirwood chair behind her desk. A present from Lady Jeyne Arryn and Lady Amanda Arryn for her wedding.

"She dares speak ill of the Crown Princess? And none stop her or bring her words to the King or you, yourself?"

"Why would they? Each of them come from the Reach or Westerlands, supporters of her son as Heir and future King."

"Then we must dispel the rumors," Laenor stated, reaching into his doublet. He pulled out a letter, setting it on the desk between them. "My dear Laena has sent us a letter. She reminds me of the tales my father used to tell us before bed. Of Sea Serpents, Giants, Gods . . . and Demigods."

"Demigods?" Rhaenyra whispered, remembering the tales Daemon had once told her. "Children of both God and Man. What do those tales have to do with our problems?"

"For years we have hid how we worship the Fourteen Flames, let those of the Seven deem our culture as heathenistic and disrespectful. I believe she means for us to seek out our true Gods and ask for their help."

"They are Gods, Laenor. What could we possibly give them in return for three children?"

"Anything they wish. Rhaenyra if you wish to be Queen this might be our only option. We need trueborn heirs and who better than the Gods that shaped us and gave us dragons?"

"The same Gods who allowed hundreds of thousands of people be wiped by the Doom. The ones who allow us to be ridiculed and shamed even as Kings, Queens, and Heirs of Valyrian Houses. The only ones left of Old Valyria, might I add," Rhaenyra snapped, glaring.

Laenor did not let her flames deter him. "And what other option do we have? Let Prince Aegon be named Heir because you have no children to rule after you?"

Rhaenyra snarled, teeth baring as Syrax sang within her soul, black teeth bared as flamed gathered in her chest. "Watch yourself husband. I could take that as treason."

"But I speak the truth," Laenor stated, Seasmoke humming in the back of his mind, tail swishing across the dusty ground of his cave. "You said we would need trueborn children and I have given you a suggestion. It is either this, your give birth to bastards after taking a paranour, or remain childless and have your titles taken. Take your pick, wife."

Charged silence fell within the study as the two dragons stared each other down. Eventually, Rhaenyra acquiesced.

"Fine. In two days time we travel to Dragonstone. We will call it a honeymoon of sorts, as if we seek alone time for . . . things. The Temple of the Fourteen will hear our prayers and we shall see if the Gods will answer."

"Then it is decided."

—Temple of the Fourteen—

The Temple of the Fourteen was almost hidden behind Castle Dragonstone, even with how large it was. The rotunda had 14 stained glass windows, each displaying the symbol of one of the 14 Gods or Godesses sitting above the corrosponding statue. Made entirely out of black dragonglass with runes carved in and filled with Valyrian steel, the Temple was truly of Valyrian make and ancestry.

Over the two days planning their week long trip to the Isle of Dragonstone, they had argued over which statue to pray too, eventually agreeing upon the Goddess Meleys. She ruled over fertility, love, sexuality, mothers, and childbirth, so they had come to the realization that she would be a better fit than Arrax or Aegerax.

"It's beautiful," Laenor murmured, High Valyrian rolling of his tongue with an Essosi lilt that Lord Corlys and his sister both had. It brought a heat to Rhaenyra whenever she heard it even if she preffered how it sounded when Daemon spoke.

"It is." Rhaenyra and Laenor came to a stop before the white dragonglass statue of Meleys. Stood in a patch of dirt, a large myrtle tree had grown alongside her, manipulated to lean over her seemingly sheltering the Goddess who wore a floor length dress with long slits up the side leaving her most of her legs and bare feet exposed.

Held in her left hand was a mirror, as pearls draped across the exposed cut of her shoulders while long sleeves fell around her forearms. Perched upon her shoulder was a dove while a peacock stood at her side, long beautifull feathers carved and painted in detail.

"Do you remember the prayer?" Laenor asked as they both stared up into the gentle features carved into the statue.

"I have not had the time to forget it," Rhaenyra murmured dryly, unsure of if she should speak normally. Together they kneeled, bowing before the Goddess' statue.

"O' Meleys, O' Queen of the Gods, Goddess of Love, Goddess of Fertility, Goddess of Motherhood, Goddess of Childbirth, we seek your aid. As Heir to the Iron Throne and Heir to Driftmark, we ask you to provide us with heirs and a spare. To allow us to further our bloodlines, O' Queen of the Gods. Name a price and we shall pay it for three children borne of our blood."

The pyre that stood to her right suddenly lit with pale pink-whire fire, startling both of them. So focused they were, neither saw the statue move until she spoke, voice soft but firm, loving and kind.

"Greetings, Princess Rhaenyra, Chosen Heir. Greetings, Prince Laenor, Chosen Guardian. I have been awaiting your call for many moons."

Neither could find it within themselves to speak, staring at the talking statue with awe and fear in equal parts.

"Be not afraid. Your call has been anticipated and awaited eagerly." Her soft look melted to something sharp and protective. "The Promised Heir shall come from your blood, Rhaenyra, but due to your father's folly, in one line of fate they fall and the world is taken in the Long Night. No one is left, no dragons, no people, no wildlings. Only wights. To make sure this never comes to pass We, the Fourteen Flames, the Seven-Who-Are-One, and the Elder Gods have decided to intervene. We have decided to interfere with fate itself to make sure our favored survive and fight back the Long Night."

"Us? But my father said– when he told me of the prophecy . . ."

"Tessarion gave the prophecy to Aegon in the hopes that he would unite Westeros to prepare them for the Long Night. But after making them kneel he in turn kneeled for the Seven-Who-Are-One who have no control over any family of Valyrian Blood. We are not the only the ones that have been disrespected or forgotten.

"The supposed followers of the Seven have perverted and twisted the words of the Seven-Who-Are-One to fit their agendas, destroying the faith that once was. The Elder Gods are slowly being forgotten as we are, and with fewer and fewer worshipping us, we are dying."

"Dying?" Laenor asked, horrified. Every story ever told spoke of how a God could not be killed.

"Not in the way you understand but yes. Magic is being forcibly taken from your world, one of the few weapons that would secure your future. But we believe we have a way for this world to survive. Do you accept the responsibility, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Laenor Velaryon?"

They both hesitated, but looking upon her face, one that looked similar to Aemma's in Rhaenyra's eyes and one that looked sinilar to Rhaenys' for Laenor and they made their decision.

"We accept this responsibility, My Queen."

She smiled softly.

"From us you will be given 14 children, born of each of us with our favor to save the Targaryen, Velaryon, Celtigar, and Stark lines. The Seven-Who-Are-One and the Elder Gods have decided that their gifts will be given in secret to aid you. But I have another gift to offer you." Meleys' smile grew wider. "Would you like to hear the names of your children and who they are the child of?"

"Yes! Please, My Queen," Rhaenyra added, blushing fiercly at the outburst. While afraid to have so many children, a part of her was curious to know her future.

"The First. Son of Arrax, King of the Gods, Jacaerys Targaryen."

"The Second. Daughter of Tyraxes, Goddess of Peace. Alyssa Velaryon."

"The Third. Son of Caraxes, God of the Seas. Lucerys Velaryon."

"The Fourth. Son of Vhagar, Goddess of War. Maegor Velaryon."

"The Fifth. Daughter of Vermax, God of Travel. Visenya Velaryon."

"The Sixth. Son of Aegerax, God of Creation. Aerion Velaryon."

"The Seventh. Daughter of Tessarion, Goddess of Dreams. Daenys Velaryon."

"The Eighth. Daughter of myself, Goddess of Love. Aemma Velaryon."

"The Ninth. Son of Syrax, Goddess of Chaos. Saeryn Velaryon."

"The Tenth. Daughter of Meraxes, Goddess of the Sky. Rhaella Velaryon."

"The Eleventh. Son of Gaelithox, God of the Sun. Aegon Velaryon."

"The Twelfth. Son of Vermithor, God of Smiths. Aemon Velaryon."

"The Thirteenth. Daughter of Shrykos, Goddess of Beginnings. Valaena Velaryon."

"The Fourteenth. Son of Balerion, God of the Underworld. Baelon Velaryon."

"Tonight Tessarion shall visit you to give you the instructions on how to allow us to give you children. Be ready. Good luck."

The statue straightened back into her precious position and fell still, allowing complete silence to fall within the Temple.

"Well," Laenor began, mumbling. "I believe we should head to the Keep, should we not? A drink or two might help."

"I agree." With that the two retreated back to the castle to talk about what had just happened, and drink enough wine to help settle their nerves before Tessarion came to visit.

Valyrian Demigods of Westeros - Daughter of Vermax

Lady Laena Velaryon held Princess Rhaenyra's hand as she screamed, stuck in the birthing bed for the 5th time. Her brother, Ser Laenor, stood on the other side of his wife, wincing at the hold she had upon his arm but supportive and encouraging. Very few men chose to join their wives in the birthing rooms, declaring it against propriety but Laenor cared deeply for Rhaenyra and would not see her endure this pain alone.

With a final scream, the midwife was able to remove the babe, using a knife to cut the life chord from her body. Wailing, the woman happily announced, "A girl, your highness. Healthy and joyous to be here."

Rhaenyra laughed, as the babe's wails softened. "Clean my daughter first, then I shall hold her."

"Right away, your highness."

The midwife rushed towards the small bath that had already been prepared and began cleaning the babe of fluid and blood, gently cooing to soothe her.

"Do you have a name for her, dear sister?" Laena asked, taking a rag to gently wipe away the sweat upon her brow.

"We do. She shall be Princess Visenya, Second of Her Name." Laenor could not help the cheeky grin that appeared, quickly catching his twins attention.

"What did you do this time?"

Switching to High Valyrian, Laenor explained, "We contacted Doran Martell to talk of uniting Dorne and Westeros. We spent moons conversing through letters and creating a contract for Dorne that would allow them to keep the independence they so desire without being allowed to rise against us. Their are conditions, for both of us, and ours happens to be that our next daughter shall marry their 3 year old son, Prince Trystan Martell, when she comes of age."

"If she wishes to. I will not allow my daughter to be forced into a marriage she despises," Rhaenyra added, wincing and gasping as the afterbirth began.

Luckily, the afterbirth was quickly epxpelled and the healers were able to tend to her. Laenor was forced into the sitting room so they could see if Rhaenyra needed stitches or just the ointment. Visenya was quite small and had slipped out in the height of day after barely a few hours of pushing.

The ointment the used would help her heal and prevent infection, a common disease women caught after giving birth. A cold wetcloth was brought to Rhaenyra to help with the pain from her womb, much to her relief.

"I wish to see my Visenya. And my husband," She added as an afterthought, making Laena snort.

"So dear sister, tell me, did you invite Dorne here for your birth? I heard rumors that a delegation arrived late last night but I was far more worried about you to question it."

"They did come. We plan to announce the contract as well as the betrothal in a few days time. I offered to allow them the chance to meet Visenya first in a more familiar setting, so that Prince Trystan may meet his future wife."

Visenya was gently placed into Princess Rhaenyra's arms as Laenor was let back inside. He smiled down at the adorable babe in her arms, reaching out to run a finger over her little chubby cheek.

She had thick curly silver-white hair, inherited from her father with the same dark skin. Her eyes though were the most beautiful shades of green either of them had seen, stunning all three of them.

"Didn't your grandmother, Princess Alyssa have a green eye?" Laena asked, leaning closer to the babe who cooed.

"She did," Rhaenyra agreed, smiling down at Visenya who reached up to smack at Laenors hand. "Did you pick out an egg for her? Or are we allowing her to claim one as her siblings did?"

"I thought it would be best to give her an egg due to her betrothal to Prince Trystan Martell," Laenor admitted. "I picked one from Dreamfyre's latest clutch."

"Good."

The door opened and a maid stepped inside dipping into a shallow bow. Laena scowled at the disrespect.

"You are in the presence of the future Queen, the Crown Princess, the future King, the Prince, and a Lady of a Royal House, wife of a Prince. You will show us the respect we command," Laena snapped, blue-purple eyes sharp as seaglass. The maid flinched back and dipped into a far deeper curtsy.

"I-I have a message. From the Queen," The maid stated, voice trembling, though none could tell if it was from fear or fury.

"Queen Consort," Rhaenyra corrected. "Queen Consort Alicent is not a Targaryen and as such is not gifted the title of Queen as my mother was."

"What is the message?" Laenor asked, frowning.

"She wishes for the babe to be brought to her before the ceremony so she may greet them. The Queen Consort was upset that she has not been granted the priveledge of meeting her grandchildren before they were introduced to the Realm."

Rhaenyra, Laena, and Laenor had all gone still before the Red Keep shook beneath the fury Vhagar voiced, making the maid flinch.

"Laena," Rhaenyra stated, staring down the maid. She switched to High Valyrian. "Find my uncle and the delegation from Sunspear, bring them to the Queens Apartments. Let them see how the Future Queen is treated."

"Your uncle is with the King, Rhaenyra. Hopefully he will see the kind of woman his chosen consort is. Green as her dresses," Laenor stated, grinning sharply at the woman. "Our mother and father would be most upset to hear what their gooddaughter is going through as well."

"Yes, they will." In a swirl of skirts, Laena dissappeared.

"Get out," Laenor ordered. "We shall bring our child to the Queen Consort ourselves."

"I could take the babe, ser."

"If you lay a hand on my child, I will order them to be removed," Rhaenyra snarled. "Tell your Queen Consort that I will come myself for what kind of mother would I be if I passed my child onto another."

The maid gaped at the blatant insult but scurried away as Ser Harwin, who had entered when Lady Laena had left, reached for his blade. He left behind her, closing the door as the servents, maids, midwives, and healers stared at the door in shock.

"Your highness," A midwife, Laya, began, "It is too soon after the birth. You could hurt yourself from walking."

"The Queen Consort has ordered my presence. Dress me. Please." Her maids immediatley rushed forward, pulling on one of her silk hose and pulled her hair into a simple, messy braid that fell down her back. A soft robe was then pulled over her shoulders and Visenya was cradled back in their arms.

The clothes she had chosen were done on purpose. Alicent would expect a show of power but this would show the Lords and Ladies of how cruel the Queen Consort was, and bring more to her side.

They were interrupted when the egg that had been placed in the fire, cracked and began hatching. A beautiful creamy white hatchling crawled forth, stubby horns of pale gold glinting and black frills swaying as it moved. Laughing to herself, Rhaenyra allowed the hatchling to clamber up her robe and perch on her shoulder, giving it free range to look down at Visenya.

Rhaenyra murmured a quiet thank you to the Gods who had so far shown to be protective of their children with her. Laenor appeared behind her, gently supporting her.

"Shall we, dear wife?"

"We shall, dear husband."

Together they made their way through the halls, Ser Harwin and two healers behind them. They earned odd looks as the Crown Princess was dressed in night clothes, holding a babe, with a hatchling perched on her shoulders. Immediatley whispers spread, so Rhaenyra played into it.

Her voice trembled, "Why would she do this, Laenor? Is she not a mother herself? To order me to have my babe taken to her when she is freshly born? What have I done to the Queen to deserve this?"

She made no attempt to keep her voice low as Laenor soothed her, shaking his head. Around them Lords, Ladies, and servents alike shook their heads in disgust.

Upon arriving at the Queens Apartments, they were met by the Dornish Delegation, the King, Prince Daemon, Princess Rhaenys, and Lord Corlys all of whom looked angry.

Princess Elia looked furious, arms crossed over her chest as her husband, Prince Dorian loomed at her side. Ser Cole looked shocked, furious, and afriad all at once as the King ordered him to open the door.

Queen Consort Alicent turned towards the door as it opened, a poorly concealed smirk on her lips. "Princess–"

She cut herself off, paling as the King stared back at her, flanked by his family and a group of Dornish strangers at his back.

"Husband, what–"

"Did you order my daughter . . . to bring her newly born child . . . to you?"

"My king, I would nev–"

"Ask her maid, Father. The one who came into my rooms, blatantly disrepsected me, and told me the Queen commanded my child be brought to her," Rhaenyra interrupted, looking at the maid who paled dramatically.

"Well," Viserys snarled, looking every bit the dragon he had once been. "Did you? As your King, if you do not tell me the truth, I will have you imprisoned!"

"It's the truth! Queen Alicent sent me to the Crown Princess' rooms to bring her the babe!" The maid nearly sobbed. Alicent looked horrified as the hatchling perched on Rhaenyra's shoulder shrieked in victory.

As Princess Rhaenys and Princess Elia tore into the Queen Consort, absolutely furious that she would abuse her power in such a way towards a member of the royal family.

Noting that it was taken care of, Princess Rhaenyra was taken back to her chambers to rest before the feast that night.

At the feast, Princess Rhaenyra and her husband stood before the masses with the Martells to the right and the King to their left, using a cane to keep his balance.

"Lords and Ladies of the Realm. You have been invited here today to be informed of not one but two miracles," Laenor announced.

"The first is our daughter. Introducing, Princess Visenya Velaryon, Second of Her Name," Rhaenyra called, lifting the babe higher as the crowd cheered. "Whose egg cracked and hatched barely two hours after her birth!"

The dragon on her shoulder shrieked, rearing up to flap its wings.

Lifting his hand, the King called for silence. "When my ancestors came to Westeros, they tried to force Dorne to bend the knee but they fought back. Each King after has tried to do the same, demanding Dorne bow to their true King. But none succeeded. No King was able to bring Dorne into the fold. But the future Queen did.

"A contract has been drawn up for Dorne to be formally added into the Seven Kingdoms as long as a Targaryen Queen or King sits the Iron Throne. As per the treaty, Princess Visenya Targaryen and Prince Trystan Martell shall be betrothed and married upon her six-and-tenth nameday!"

Cheers made the hall itself tremble as the true Heir's supporters made themselves known. Lady Jeyne could be seen holding Princess Alyssa with Prince Jacaerys at her side while Lord Corlys held his heir – as the titles had been relinquished from Ser Laenor. Prince Maegor was in Prince Daemons arms alongside his cousin, Princess Baela as her mother carried her twin sister, Princess Rhaena.

Prince Aegon's supporters, who had grown weaker over the years, gave false cheers, seeking out the Queen who wore black and red upon the order of her husband. Much to Crown Princess Rhaenyra's delight the woman looked pale and washed out in the regal colors of the Royal House. It was a stark reminder that Queen Consort Alicent Hightower was no true Queen for even Aemma Arryn, who was oft bedridden, had looked absolutely stunning in black and red, her maternal house colors.

The strength of the Blacks grew and grew, furthered by the birth of Crown Princess Rhaenyra's fifth child, and second daughter.

Princess Visenya Targaryen, Second of Her Name, Future Princess of Dorne, Future Princess of Sunspear, the Traveler, the Diplomat, the Intelligent, the Learned, had been born.

Valyrian Demigods of Westeros - Son of Vhagar

Prince Daemon held Dark Sisters hilt tightly as he listened to his niece's screams on the other side of the door. His wife, Lady Laena, and his goodbrother, Ser Laenor, were within comforting the princess as she birrhed her fourth child. It did not matter to him that she had had three successful births as his own mother had had two successful births before his late brother Aegon, he still worried for her safety.

It was not until he heard the desperate and fearful scream of Laena, yelling for him, that he moved. In one blow he knocked the door open, running into the birthing chamber.

Ser Laenor was fighting against a maester with a blade in hand as Rhaenyra screamed. Laena stood at her side, looking fully ready to lunge at the man if he nor Laenor could get him out. A midwife kneeled between Rhaenyra's legs, coaching and encouraging her even with the tremble of fear in her voice. His observation took less than two seconds before he was unsheathing Dark Sister, blade singing as it was pulled from the sheath.

The Maester looked to him in fear as Laenor shouted, "He attempted to murder Rhaenyra!"

That was all it took for Daemon to swing his blade with precision, completely severing the mans head. Blood sprayed into the air like a geyser, spraying over Laenor, Daemon, the midwife, and the newly born babe.

Wailing, the babe was quickly passed up to Rhaenyra who sobbed in relief, thanking Daemon as she cradled the babe close, whispering into blood and fluid soaked hair.

It took well over an hour for Rhaenyra to calm enough for them to wash the babe and for her and Laenor to give him a name. As they waited guards were admitted to drag away the body and feed it to Syrax, and the news was taken to the King.

"So? What name shall you give to my newest nephew?" Daemon asked, sprawled in a chair as Laena and Laenor sat beside Rhaenyra.

"Before we tell you we have a proposition for the two of you," Laenor stated, staring Daemon down with surprising confidence.

"A proposition? Do tell."

"The Stepstones," Rhaenyra began, tearing her gaze away from her babe. "Will be officially taken under the crown within the next month. A keep, garrison, and port is already being built on the main island and shall be given to my son when he is of age in 10-and-6 years. But until then it must be watched over by a regent, and I was hoping to name you, Uncle, or you, Laena, as his regents. You would be welcome there even after he took control and I would off her his hand in marriage to Baela, Rhaena, or any future daughters you have if it would please you "

Daemon and Laena stared at her before Laena asked, "Why? You could hire a castellan if you so wished. Why give us this responsibility?"

"Because you deserve it. You have supported us, even from afar. Your loyalty means everything to us," Laenor admitted, smiling awkwardly. "And the kids adore you. They would be highly distraught if you returned to Essos."

Laena laughed, sharing a look with Daemon. A silent conversation passed between the two before they turned their attention back to the two.

"If we take it, I wish to be given control of its garrison even after your, still unnamed, son takes it back."

"Done."

"Then we agree. We will care for our nephews castle and he will marry one of our daughters. Eventually, of course. Now, tell us his name," Laena commanded, holding her head up haughtily to make them laugh.

"We have chosen to name him Maegor ll Velaryon, to remind ourselves not to make the mistakes Aegon the Conquerer made," Laenor announced, smirking at the surprised looks on their faces.

"A powerful name," Daemon commented, grinning sharply. "One that will make the Highcunts shiver in remembrance. I applaud your choice niece, goodbrother."

"We're so happy to have your approval, Uncle," Rhaenyra deadpanned, making Laena snort loudly before to cover it up as Laenor began laughing at his sister.

Maegor was given back to his mother by an awed midwife, who spoke quietly to Rhaenyra as Laenor continued to poke fun at his sister.

"Is something the matter?" Daemon asked as the midwives filed from the room, leaving the four alone.

"She was informing me of the peculiar birth mark upon his left arm," Rhaenyra stated, gently unwrapping Maegor so she could them all the arm. Upon his chubby forearm was the sigil of Vhagar, something Laena and Daemon realized near simeoultaneously.

It was a long angular shield with a spear shape through one side and a sword theough the other. There were other details but they were hidden by the fact that it was underdeveloped.

"Rhaenyra, Laenor," Laena whispered, gently running her fingers over the markings. Both knew that they had recognized the mark, but seemed unaffected.

"You keep my secrets, I keep yours," Laenor murmured, dark eyes sharp. It did not matter that this was his goodbrother, a man that had seen war and held a valyrian blade. If Daemon threatened his wife or children, he would retaliate.

"I keep your secrets," Daemon agreed, understanding. "Now, when shall I have the pleasure of seeing Otto's face when he hears the name of the babe. And of course, the pleasure of seeing the Highcunt Queen throw a fit, how could I forget."

They chuckled, easing the atmosphere.

"In three days, Uncle. Be patient."

He scoffed, earning looks of genuine amusement between the three.

-----------------------

Queen Alicent perfectly arranged her children at her side, with Prince Aegon in the lead and Prince Daeron standing at the end. Her father, Ser Otto, stood beside Prince Daeron, pin of the Hand of the King shining brightly.

She glared at Princess Rhaenyra as she swept inside with her sword-swallowing husband, and heathen children following close behind. Held within her arms was the newest Prince of the Realm, whose name would be revealed to the court soon, while Ser Laenor held his heir, Prince Lucerys, in his arms. Prince Jacaerys and Princess Alyssa walked between their parents dressed in fine clothes.

"Princess Rhaenyra, my dearest daughter. Ser Laenor, my goodson. Prince Jacaerys, Princess Alyssa, Prince Lucerys, my grandchildren. I am glad you are all alright. Prince Daemon I thank you for your timely intervention. It saved my daughters life. It saved the Crown Princess's life," King Viserys stated, allowing silence to fall. "Lords and Ladies of the Realm, today my daughter stands here to introduce the newest Prince of the Realm, futhering her line of succession."

Viserys nodded to his daughter, sitting back dowm heavily. He ignored the look he recieved from his brother, Daemon, worried and surprised in equal measures.

"Lords and Ladies, I introduce to you Prince Maegor ll Velaryon, Heir to the Stepstones, chosen to remind us of the mistakes of Aegon the Conquerer. Until his 10-and-6 Nameday, his keep upon the islands shall be watched over by his chosen regents, Prince Daemon, and his lady wife, Lady Laena."

The news had everyone in a titter, surprised that the King had allowed a Keep to be built uppn the Stepstones at all but the man was deep to his eldest daughter and had caves after much insistance.

Ser Otto and Queen Alicent were angry and shocked respectively. None of her sons had been given Keeps, while all four of her children had inheritances to recieve.

The scales only tipped further in the Blacks favor.

Prince Maegor Velaryon, Second of His Name, Heir to the Stepstones, Born in Blood, the Warrior, the Fierce, the Wild, the Warhammer had been born.

Valyrian Demingods of Westeros - Son of Caraxes

High Tide was lit by the brilliant flashes of lightning dancing in the sky, as her white walls were pelted with heavy rainfall. Within her walls, one could hear the screams of Princess Rhaenyra as she gave birth to another child, just over a year after the birth of Princess Alyssa.

Prince Jacaerys would be turning three within a few scarce months with Princess Alyssa's birthday following only 3 months later. Both were being cared for by their grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, as their father, Ser Laenor, supported her in the birthing room.

Unfortunately King Viserys, Queen Alicent and their children had stayed behind in the Red Keep, believing that Princess Rhaenyra would be able to return to give birth. But a storm had halted their ship, and the little one was quite excited to emerge during the storm.

Bouncing Alyssa in her arms, Rhaenys stood by the window and was witness to the spectacle as the sea calmed and the storm abated within moments, bringing forth the slightest hint of the sun. "Corlys," Rhaenys whispered, awed by the spectacle.

Her husband joined her, curious smto see what had his wife so shocked, only to be shocked as well. "The storm . . . I have never seen one stop so suddenly," Corlys admitted. Alyssa giggled, curling close to her grandmother peer over her shoulder.

Sat on the floor, Jacaerys stared back, smiling happily. "He's here," Jace said, climbing to his feet as Alyssa nodded.

"'Uke!" She cried in delight as the door was opened by a guard. The maid bowed, hair in complete dissaray and panting heavily.

"The Princess . . . the babe . . . a boy . . . both healthy," The maid gasped.

Rhaenys and Corlys stared at their grandchildren who were looking back at them expectantly. Genuinly confused as to how the children had known, they picked then up and carried then to the birthing room where they were greeted by a slightly frazzled looking Laenor, an exhausted Rhaenyra, and a babe swaddled in Velaryon blue-green silk cradled within his fathers arms.

Dmiling, Laenor held out his arms so the four could look, "Father, Mother. Alyssa, Jacaerys. I would like to introduce you to the future Lord of the Tides, the Heir to Driftmark and High Tide, Lucerys Velaryon, blessed by the storms and the tides themselves."

"What?" Rhaenys asked, eyes going wide as Laenor gently manuevered a little arm out of the swaddle, revealing a birthmark in the shape of Caraxes, the God of the Seas, Water, and Storms, mark. 4 stars facing the cardinal directions with a singular star in the center and ancient rune across the pale center of the star.

Corlys glanced down to Jacaerys, who hair barely hid his own crown shaped sigil with the rune for Justice upon the center and the runes for king on the sides, just as Rhaenys glanced to Alyssa, whose mark was weirwood branches along her collarbone that formed a circle at the hollow of her throat with rune for peace inside said circle alongside a feather and torch.

"Laenor," Rhaenys began, gaze sharp but worried. "Why do all three of your children have birthmarks in the shape of the sigils of Arrax, Tyraxes, and Caraxes?"

Two sets of eyes stared widely at her, nervous. Rhaenyra shifted, wincing at the pain as Laenor looled around the room so he wouldn't meet the eyes of his parents.

"Laenor."

Laenor's gaze snapped to Corlys at his tone, a fire gathering in their depths. "You forced us to seek out other methods for I to give Rhaenyra trueborn children. We found a method and now you have three heirs for grandchildren. That is all you need to know. I will be taking mt children now, they need to get to know their new brother, if you would excuse us."

His clear dismissal hurt but they put down his children and left, unsure of what to do, except send a letter to the King and his family to inform them of the new birth.

In King's Landing, within the Red Keep, Queen Alicent and her children were forced to listen to King Viserys read the letter aloud.

'Dear Cousin,

You will be most disappointed to hear that Rhaenyra was unable to give birth in the Red Keep, but she gave birth during one of the worst storms Driftmark has likely ever seen. When her son was born the sky calmed, the rain stopped, and the tides receded and everything was peaceful as if there had never been a storm in the first place.

We are delighted to send word of the birth of Prince Lucerys Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark, and future Lord of the Tides. Born with the Velaryon locks, eyes, and skin, we can only wait for his skills at sailing to emerge like his brother and sister's skills did.

Rhaenyra and the children are all doing well. She has spoke of the ease she has felt here on Driftmark and have told her that our home will always be open for her, no matter the circunstances. We are unsure of when she will return but it will likely be upon dragon back so I, Rhaenys, shall go as well so they don't have to carry two toddlers at once.

The Targaryen-Velaryon grows ever larger with the births of Prince Lucerys and the previous births of Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena.

Congratulations cousin on earning another grandchild.

Yours in blood, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Lord Velaryon'

The absolute joy the man expressed at the ketter had the Queen picking at her nails, even as her children just watched or ate, content to ignore their father as he did them. She hated Princess Rhaenyra for birthing yet another child with the Valyrian features, but she did not understand the tidings it brought.

Yet another blessed child to aid the Blacks and the future of House Targaryen.

Prince Lucerys Velaryon, Second of His Name, Heir to Driftmark, Future Lord of the Tides, Stormborn, Undrowned, the Sea Dragon, the Sailor, the Red Star, had been born.

Twenty and five years ago, Princess Rhaenyra was removed from the line of succession after King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower learned of her marriage, or marriages. Under the guiding flame of the Fourteen and the Branches of the Godwood, Rhaenyra had taken three husbands: Lord Rickon Stark of the North, Ser Laenor Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark, and Prince Daemon Targaryen, her Uncle.

It was Ser Otto, Lord Hand, who encouraged the King to remove her because of her unlawful wedding.

Having learned of her impending removal as Heiress, Rhaenyra created a contract with the help of Lyonel Strong, the Master of Law.

The First Clause.

Dragonstone, her ancestral home, and the Stepstones, Prince Daemons second gift for winning the war, were hers and her husbands alone and would be passed down through her line alone.

The Second Clause.

Anything belonging to the late Queen Aemma would be given to Princess Rhaenyra to be passed down through her line alone. This included all of her possessions, jewelry, dresses, and her crowns.

The Third Clause.

Anything of Valyrian Ancestry, whether living or not, belonged to Rhaenyra to pass down as she pleased.

The Fourth Clause.

The Dragons woud be removed from the Dragonpit and guided to the Dragonmont. If any Targaryen henceforth wished to claim a dragon they would have to gain permission from Princess Rhaenyra and her husbands.

As a gift for Aegons second nameday Rhaenyra left him and her younger sister, Halaena eggs.

The Fifth Clause.

Daemons Gold Cloaks would be allowed to follow to protect Dragonstone as they had Kings Landing.

The contract was shown to King Viserys privately, so none of his counsel was able to refute it. He agreed, signing the contract in blood before copies were sent out to each kingdom and member of the Counsel.

The morning after King Viserys signed the contract his entire family left. The Velaryons returned to Driftmark, and Rhaenyra and her husbands to Dragonstone where no word was heard for twenty and five years.

------------------------

Within the first year of living on Dragonstone, the Volcano erupted and gave them nearly double the land they had before. The Island became renowed for its Rock Salt, Fine Salt, Dragonglass, Glass, and Pearls all of which were abundant.

Created on the Northeastern side of the island, after a second smaller eruption added several miles, was a smaller keep built specifically for Rhaenyras line to inherit. The Keep, known as the Narrows Watchtower, had docks below for the Fleet of the Fourteen which would eventually be given to Prince Rhaenor Velaryon and his betrothed Princess Aemma Targaryen.

As Rhaenyra and Daemon knew what it felt like to be pushed aside they made sure their children knew that family was the most important thing, that nothing could break the bond of blood. They also made sure each child would inherit something so anger and jealosy would not fester.

Each child was given an egg within the cradle, and eventually taught the same lessons so they were given the same opportunities. Princess Rhaenyra was also going to make sure none of her children felt pressured to marry and let them have a say in their betrothals.

Prince Baelon Targaryen ll, Heir to Dragonstone.

Prince Aemon Targaryen ll, Heir to the Stepstones.

Prince Cregan Stark, Heir to the North.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Heir to Crackclaw point.

Prince Lucerys Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark.

Princess Khalysi Targaryen, Heiress to Dragonstone.

Prince Jon Stark, Heir to Moat Cailin.

Princess Arya Stark, Heiress to Moat Cailin.

Prince Corryn Velaryon, Heir to the Sea Serpents Fleet.

Prince Rhaenor Velaryon, Heir to the Fleet of the Fourteen Flames.

Prince Benjen Stark, Heir to Greywater Watch.

Princess Saerys Targaryen, Heiress to Greywater Watch.

Princess Alyssa Targaryen, Heiress to Rainwood Isles.

Princess Aemma Targaryen, Heiress to the Narrows Watchtower.

Princess Visenya Targaryen ll, Heiress to the Vale.

Princess Rhaena Targaryen lll, Heiress to the Isles of Skagos and Skane.

Prince Baelon was betrothed to Princess Khalysi and Prince Lucerys at a young age due to their closeness. They were wedded after Khalysi's tenth and sixth Nameday, marking her as a grown woman.

Prince Aemon was betrothed to Princess Nehemia of Martell after it became obvious they liked each other during peace talks in Dorne. They were married after Princess Nehemias tenth and sixth Nameday, marking her as a grown woman.

Prince Cregan Stark was betrothed to Alyssane Blackwood after he saw her using a bow against the Wildlings. They married soon after the battle as Alyssane was already ten and seven.

Prince Jacaerys was married to Alinor Celtigar, which gave him Crackclaw Point.

Prince Jon and Princess Arya were married on their tenth and sixth nameday.

Prince Corryn was betrothed to Princess Alyssa because of their similar behaviors and wild hearts.

Prince Rhaenor and Princess Aemma were betrothed due to their own similarities and their friendship.

Prince Benjen and Princess Saerys were betrothed because they near begged to be, having fallen for each other at a young age.

Princess Visenya and Princess Rhaena were left unbetrothed, because Lady Jeyne was given permission to find their matches because their territories were gifts from the Vale.

With no information being given to Kings Landing, King Viserys, Queen Alicent, and Ser Otto had no idea of the 'army' of children Rhaenyra had. Nor of the amount of hatched dragons, and claimed dragons.

13 cradle hatched dragons, 3 claimed, with a dragonseed claiming Sheepstealer and becoming Princess Visenya's Sworn Maiden.

With three adult dragons, if not four or five when Rhaenys and Laena visited with Rhaenys and Vhagar.

Dragonstone was a fortress, with an army to protect her.

Khalysi Velaryon, daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, younger daughter of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon, 'The Realms Delight', 'Driftmarks Pearl', and cruelly, 'The Dragonless,' was chained to the masts of the pirates ship, thin nightclothes doing nothing to protect her from the icy breeze. Tears stained her face, as she wept, begging the clouded sky to let her family find her.

A part of her wanted to fight, to be like Visenya, but at 10 namedays she had no chance against the older pirates that made up the crew. A strange sound had Khalysi looking up and looking around.

When she looked behind her she found a dragon, bigger than Syrax but smaller than Meleys, perched on the deck, staring at her.

Grey Ghost.

He had cloudy grey scales with a beautiful pearly undertone. His back had armor plates instead of spikes that were a blue-green like the sea when you you looking down. Grey eyes set in a narrow face watched her closely as his long neck swayed slightly. Branching silver horns, arced gracefully catching the little bit of moonlight that shone through the clouds.

Khalysi felt something in her chest urging her closer, so she crawled, legs too weak from the days at sea with little food and water, slowly making her way closer to the beautiful dragon. Once she was close enough, he lowered his head, breathing out a cloud of hot air that warmed her skin.

Every so slowly, she raised a hand and pressed it to the warm scales of his nose. He jerked away but let her hand touch him, and he settled, eyes closing as the bond she'd heard so much about clicked into place.

Grey Ghost climbed further onto the deck, wrapping himself around her and protecting from the icy winds. As he did she remembered the reports.

Ships had been found with no one aboard and no evidence of them being attacked. Sometimes there was blood but very little else. Rhaenyra had suggested it was Grey Ghost but Corlys and Daemon had refuted that, saying the eludice dragon was to shy.

But Khalysi felt it, felt Grey Ghosts bloodlust, his anger towards pirates specifically.

"Grey Ghost. Return. And kill them all."

The dragon snorted in agreement and gently pulled away. In a soundless beat of his wings, he rose disappearing quickly.

------------------

A thick fog, that made the pirate crew nervous, had set in around noon when the sun was high in the sky. But the fog made it seem closer to night, as if the sun had decided to disappear early. Khalysi pressed herself against the mast, waiting. It did not take long.

In less than two hours Grey Ghost had killed them all, and freed Khalysi. She prepared to have him return her hom but something made her pause.

What did she truly have back home? Her brothers would have their kingdoms and keeps, and she would be married off to the highest bidder to have babies.

No, she'd be a Queen of her own making.

A Pirate Queen.

She stole gold, and thick clothes before climbing onto Grey Ghosts back. She remembered an old fairytale that spoke of an island near Old Valyria that had narrowly escaped the Doom. Hopefully it existed.

When she told Grey Ghost he seemed to know what she spoke of and quickly set them on their way.

-------------------

The journey was long and tiring, but peaceful.

Once on the large island, Khalysi rested in a cave of Grey Ghosts choice, hidden from the other creatures of the island. Until she heard the call.

The same call that had urged her to go to Grey Ghost called to her now. And so she followed it.

Deep into the mountain that took up a large chunck of the island rested a dragon. Larger than Vhagar was. But more . . . youthful.

She did not have the flap on her neck, nor the exhaustion that Khalysi had seen on Aemonds newly claimed dragon. Her scales were not dull, in fact, they the opposite.

The scales of her body were all shades of blue, woth the frills along her spine being a paler blue while her belly was dark blue, the same blue that the ocean was at night. Her wings were a beautiful pearly grey with pale green and blue streaks. The spikes along her chest, jaw, and her horns were a beautiful bronze with orange-red streaks, while her tail fins were a solid bronze.

Khalysi was reminded of Daerons hatchling, that she'd never learned the name of, and decided that this dragon was far more beautiful.

Slowly the she-dragon lifter her head, allowing golden eyes to meet murky purple. Khalysi gasped when the dragon gently nudged her and another bond clicked into place. At her back, she could feel the warm presence of Grey Ghost who made not a sound as he watched the older dragon.

"Tessarion," Khalysi decided, smiling at the huff and feeling of amusement from her.

And so her legacy began.

Khalysi Velaryon, Firstborn Daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, younger sister of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

'The Realms Delight.'

'Driftmarks Pearl.'

'Pirate Queen.'

'Queen of the Sea.'

'Daughter of the Drowned God.'

'Daughter of the Stranger.'

'The Drowned Goddesses Rider.'

'Rider of the Grey Ghost.'

Caro Morticina

Part two

Rhaenyra watched from the balconey as her sweet boy, her Lucerys, stood before the Cannibals large, scared muzzle, talking to him. She had forbidden him from flying until his new riding leathers had been made. He'd had complete control over what they looked like though and a part of her had ached when she saw the design he had sketched out for the leather worker, the blacksmith, and the tailor.

A dragonglass breastplate with a singular golden-white scale over his heart, with thick, dyed black leather straps. The leather, he'd requested, would have to be nearly three times thicker than any of the others riding leathers, padded with dyed rabbit fur. A thick black cloak that would almost completely hide what he wore underneath, with the inside made of soft, dyed, rabbit fur.

But the scariest part, to her, was the spine. Lucerys had left for the day and returned with the black bone spine of a dragonet and asked for it to be attached to his armor to protect his own, more delicate, spine.

She watched as her son was turned inside out from the death of Arrax and his subsequent claiming of the Cannibal, and her hatred for Aemond grew. If Lucerys hadn't have claimed his and Vhagar's death as his own her and Daemon would have done it. Well, if they made it their first.

Jacaerys had been furious, based on the letter he'd sent, as had Lord Cregan Stark, who swore to her and her sons. He had begged Rhaenyra, first as a son then as the Queens heir and finally as a brother, but she refused. She needed him in Winterfell to plan with Cregan.

But part of her wondered if she should send Lucerys to him. He and Jacaerys had always been close and maybe being together would help him heal over the loss of Arrax.

-------------

Lucerys packed light, since Cannibal had refused to allow a saddle to be placed on him. Only two extra sets of clothing, and some rations were placed in a rucksack for him to carry.

His riding leathers were pulled on last and he couldn't help but stare at himself in the mirror.

A black undershirt with a dragonclass breastplate, Arraxs singular scale resting above where his heart was. Black leather covered his legs, protecting the inside of his thighs and calves with fluffy black rabbit fur poking out. Turning he was able to see the black bone spine running down his back.

But it was all hidden beneath the thick, hooded black cloak.

He looked intimidating, especially with the singular white streak that had earned him the moniker, The Strangers Son, dead eyes, and pale skin.

Earlier that morning, the Queen, his mother, had ordered him to head to Winterfell to join Jacaerys and Lord Cregan Stark to begin preparing Starks Army to march.

Leaving his room Lucerys found Rhaena waiting for him, looking worried for him.

"Are you well prepped? Jacaerys mentioned before he left that it was a long journey. And quite difficult for dragons since they don't like the cold," Rhaena said, only to falter. "Though I guess Cannibal might handle it differently."

"He will. I think he likes the cold."

"Really? That's odd." Rhaena and he made it down to the courtyard where everyone was waiting to say goodbye.

Daemon pulled him into a hug and murmured into his ear, "Just send a letter and I can have the bastards other eye."

"Thank you, Kepa."

Joff, Aegon, and Viserys all threw themselves into Lukes arms, begging him not to leave but he soothed them and reminded them that it was his duty to their Queen.

Rhaenyra gentle wrapped him in her arms, trembling slightly. "Come back to me, my sweet Luke."

"I will, My Queen. I promise."

Baela hugged him tightly and asked him to pass a message along to Jace, which he promised he would and Rhaena hugged him tightly. Tighter than she had last time.

They all let out noises of shock and surlrise when they turned and found Cannibal half inside the courtyard, watching them with glowing green eyes. Lucerys climbed up the sharp spikes of his side and settled at the base of his neck, tugging on the thick padded gloves before holding on tight to the closest spikes.

"Soves!"

With barely a sound, Cannibal took off, disappearing into the clouds with ease.

The Birth of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon - 119

Rhaenyra cursed and snarled at Laenor who looked like he was about faint as he stared down at the midwife who was helping her deliver the first of the twins. The firsts head was out and she was now pulling the babe from within to make way for the second.

His attention was caught when he saw movement in the fire. In awe, even as his hand was crushed, he watched a tiny hatchling crawl forth from the flames.

The green hatchling, Vhagars, Laenor assumed, toddled towards the midwife before screeching and scrambling up the basin to get to the babe. The midwife shrieked, getting everyones attention but a wail from Rhaenyra had their attention turning back to her.

It took at least two more hours for the second babe to be born and he was closely followed by the second hatchling climbing from the fire. The second, silver, hatchling climbed onto the bed and toddled towards where the second babe was being held by Laenor.

The green hatchling screeched at the midwives as he followed after the first babe who had been cleaned. It scrambled up the bed and over Rhaenyra to watch over him.

"So my dear Wife, what shall we name them? Our babes?"

"Jacaerys, after King Jaehaeris. And Lucerys after Lucerys Velaryon the Ship Master." Laenor couldn't help but be amused by how his wife had already picked out Verlaryon names.

Reaching out, Laenor ran his fingers over the chubby cheek of Jacaerys, "The heir to Driftmark. My heir."

He switched his attention to little Lucerys in his arms, "The heir to Crackclaw Point."

Rhaenyra smiled, but her attention was on the green dragon as she ran a gentle finger down the little ones back. Chirping the dragon did its best to clamber up her shoulder to get a better vantage point.

--------------

Eventually the two were old enough to name their dragons.

Jacaerys chose the name Vermax, after the God of boundaries, travel, communication, trade, language, and writing. He had liked the stories and legends as a child and had decided the name was perfect.

Lucerys decided on the name Arrax, after the Ruler of the Gods, Arrax, who was also the God of law, order, justice, governance, and strength. He had always seen the world in black and white and sought to see justice for slights.

The two dragons grew up chasing after their riders throughout the castle, until they grew to large and had to find caves to nest in.

VIII(The Dinner)

Masterlist

----------- King Epsilon thought it was a good idea for the three royal families to have dinner together, the king was looking around the dining room as maids cleaned around the room. King Epsilon knew it was a bad idea but he did not care. Epsilon walks towards the chambers where king Viserys is staying, knocking the king waits for the doors to open. "Your grace" Queen Alicent opened the door and saw Epsilon standing "Queen Alicent may I come in?" Alicent stepped to the side and let the king in, entering the room he saw maesters of lune walking around "My king" Maester Carlos greet the king and bowed "Maester Carlos Quomodo rex?" Maester Carlos's side eye Alicent "Sanitas regis est questus melior" Epsilon nodded and looked at Viserys who is in bed sitting up "Is he going to be able to have dinner with us?" he asked as the maester nodded "Moving will do good for his bones" Epsilon nodded and turn to the queen "Dinner will be tonight, a guard will come to look for you and your family" Alicent nodded and watch as the King of Lune left.

The doors of the dining room opened as Amalthea enter the room and went to her chair "Beautiful night isn't it?" Viserys asks as he looks out the window of the dining room making everyone look at him "Yes a beautiful night... We going to have a full moon, I remember that Amalthea was born on a full moon... All the animals were going crazy" Aquila said as everyone looked at her and smile. Prince Aemond look up from the table and made eye contact with Amalthea who smiles at him making him turn his sight back to the table, red spreading on his cheeks. Amalthea kept her eyes on the one-eyed prince as voices went all around the room. Plates now full of food both royal family start eating. "Quee Aquila I have a question?" said the queen turning her head to Alicent and nodding "When is princess Amalthea becoming queen?" Aquila smiled and took a sip of her drink and made eye contact with Amalthea "Well Amalthea will become queen when she is the age of two and one" Alicent nodded and turned to her father and took a sip of her own drink.

Prince Aegon bit a piece of his food and turn red, sweat dripping from his forehead "Aegon are you alright?" Alicent asks her son. Aegon grabs his cup and chugs his drink "Oh dear is he alright?"  Amalthea just smirks and continues eating. Aemond sees the smirk looks between her and his brother. Epsilon went to Aegon and check his food "He is going to be fine...he just ate a jalapeno" He looked at one of the maids "Bring some milk for the prince" Otto look at Amalthea "You think this is funny?" making his way over to her making her quickly get up and face him, gripping her wrist "Careful Hightower you may be the king's hand but you nor the kings family have any authority in this kingdom" Otto clench his hand and was pushed back by a guard "Careful Hightower you don't want to start a war" Daemon said as he was now on his feet along with his wife who looks concerned for the princess "Hightower step back from my daughter" Otto look at the princess who just stares at him waiting for a move.

Otto step back when Nash got up and push him back "My grandmother said to step back" Otto was grabbed by his arm by the king who made him turn to look at him "You ever do that again and I will send you back to Oldtown" Alicent look at her father and shake her head. Aemond turned to the princess who was now sitting, he catch her attention and bow his head down. Amalthea understanding his action nodded and gave him a quick smile.

After dinner, Amalthea and her guard walk to her chambers when Aemond appears "Princess Im sorry for my grandsire" Amalthea just shook her head "Is not your fault prince Aemond it's not your fault" It was Aemond's turn to shake his head "I know that but he should not have grabbed you like that" Amalthea grab his hand making him step back but she quickly pulled him back to her "Its fine Prince Aemond, I can see that he thinks he has more power just because he is the king's hand, well not here. lune and sol are separated from the seven kingdoms for a reason" Letting go of his hand she smiles at him and touches his cheek making him move his face back "Good night my prince" Aemond stepped to the side letting her pass "Good night princess"

When Amalthea got to her chambers she says her goodnight to her guard and lay on her bed with a small smile.

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Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Have a good day, night, afternoon, or morning. Talk to you in the next chapter

Quomodo rex- How is the king

Sanitas regis est questus melior- The king's health is getting better

Chapter VII (A Heiress and a second son)

Masterlist

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Prince Aemond Targaryen the second son of king Viserys Targaryen is seen walking around the castle ignoring the stares of the ladies watching him like a hawk, a screech is heard in the sky looking up Aemond saw two weird flying creatures flying around and crashing with each other but they quickly start flying again and they landed on top of the castle "Cute aren't they?" a soft voice said next to Aemond making him turn his head "What?" Amalthea looked at him and whistled and in a second one of the creatures landed near them, cuddling into Amalthea's leg, Aemond stepped back as he see the weird-looking creature "This Astra means star in greek, and that one up there is Aten name after the Egyptian god of the sun, he's my nephews " Aemond watched as the princess of lune bend down and scratch Astra's head "I had never seen a creature like that" Astra look at Aemond and screech " Astra and Aten are dimorphodon, I discover their species when I went to one of my adventures, they were just babes when I found them...hiding behind the dead body of their mother so I took them and gifted one to Nash" Amalthea look at Astra who decided to go fly "They look like dragons but smaller" Aemond said as he watches the two flying g siblings fly "That's because both creatures may share the same bloodline" Aemond nodded.

Prince Aemond does not know what he thinks of the heiress of lune, he never met someone like her. The next time he saw the princess where the dragons and the other creatures were staying, she fed her snake with Astra behind her. Vhagar nudges Aemond getting his attention and making him pat her, he turns to look at the princess but he instead sees black orbs looking at him. Calypso watch Aemond, Aemond took his eye off Amalthea and look at his dragon.

The third time Aemond saw Amalthea she was walking with her nephew, her violet hair flying freely with the wind, diamond earrings shining with the sun. He sees the two teens talking seriously making him curios making him get closer "Nash I can't keep making excuses for you, you have to tell Europa and Arthur" Nash looks down and sigh "How can I tell them, would they even accept" Amalthea softly smile at him and grab him by the shoulders "Nash they will love anyway, no matter what" Nash look up with teary eyes "Ill love you no matter what" Amalthea grabbed him by his shoulders and kiss his cheek. Aemond watches the two heiresses and walks away from them, Amalthea catches silver hair in the corner of her eyes making her head turned slightly, and saw prince Aemond walking away. The fourth time Aemond saw the princess was at the ball with the folk people, he watched her dance, and laugh with all of them, He and everyone else knew she'll be a great queen one day.

The fifth time he saw her was when she was talking to the sons of Rhaenyra and Daemons girls "Lune is very beautiful my princess" Lucerys told the princess as he watch the waterfall "Thank you" Aemond got closer to them and silently watch them "Dont be shy prince Aemond there space for you" Aemond staid still "How did you know it was me?" he asks making his way next to her pushing Jacaerys out the way making him stumble into Baela, Amalthea side eye them and shake her head slightly "A royal guard has to teach me how to recognize someone footsteps, Sine you and your family arrived in Lune I have been studying all of your footsteps and movements" everyone look at her with a shocked face "And why would the heir of lune need to learn that?"Aemond asks making her face him and making eye contact with his one eye " Well as an heiress and next queen of Lune I need to be aware of who is standing or walking behind me" Amalthea explains as she watches all their faces. Aemond smirked and look down "Never heard of something like that... it's smart," Jacaerys said making the princess nod "If you like one of the guards can teach you that my prince, after all, you be taking the throne after your mother and of course, your betrothed should learn this as your future queen" Jacaerys nodded and look at Baela who also smiled "We would love that princess," Baela said making Amalthea smile "Alright Ill talk with Ser Sebastian as soon I can" Aemond only watch her as she smiles, Violet hair shinning bright in the sun.

By the end of the week, Prince Aemond's heart has been captured by the princess without him knowing.

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Hello...I know I haven't updated in a long time but that's because I have been lazy lately plus I was testing all last week. Something I have decided to change is that I won't be putting images of the outfits they are wearing, the reason is that I feel like I waste a lot of time doing that and there are a lot of images I have to download on my computer, the times I'll do that is when there is a ball going on, In my other books Ill still be doing this because its only one main character and not a bunch like this one. Anyway hope you guys liked this and sorry if is short, have a great night, day, morning, or afternoon.

Chapter VI (The Townspeople party)

masterlist

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The day has come when the townspeople of both Lune and Sol are invited to the castle of either kingdom to celebrate the name day of two royals.  Again in the castle Luna, every servant is busy preparing the room where the party will be, the royals once again getting their gowns and dresses fit for the party.

Amalthea look at herself in the mirror and smile "Lady carmen you always know how I like my dresses" Carmen smiled and finish the last touch "Thank You princess" Amalthea doors chambers open, and her sister Queen Europa entered, Carmen quickly bowed to her and continue her work "Excited sister?" she asks her younger sister as she sat down in one of the sofas in Amalthea's chamber  "Of course I am, I love celebrating my name day with the townfolks" Europa smile, ever since Amalthea and Nash were little they sneak out to the town and make friends and since then the two teens always demand the townspeople to be included in their name day "You really love them?" Amalthea smiled and watch as the townfolks entered the castle "They are my future sister, I'll be the one protecting them next" Europa smiled and went to hug her.

Meanwhile, The Targaryen mines the children were with the Queen and King, a maester of Lune tenting Viserys "Your majesty forgive me but why does lune maester have to take care of the king when he has his own"  Otto asks the Queen who only looks at him "Maester Carlos has worked with this type of condition before, he taught me, my mother, sister, and daughters on how to take care of any wound"  Otto look annoyed but hold it in knowing if he says anything else the queen will kill him "Excuse me, your grace, did you say that Maester Carlos has seen this before?" Rhaenyra ask looking at her husband and back to the queen "Yes, maester Carlos has worked this with my father when he was younger, my father cut his hand with his iron sword and he thought of nothing until he was feeling horrible, he went to maester Carlos and maester Carlos quickly mix up some herbs and it helps my father, of course, it didn't help right away my father had to take the herb every day until he was better" Aquila got closer to both viserys and the maester "We found pit it was an infection giving by the iron, so my father decided that all the kingdom have this medicine because we all have something made out of iron in our homes, do every day we take this medicine for one year and then we will not be too affected" Otto just look at the queen with narrow eyes "What effect will it give my brother?" Daemon asked as he got closer to his brother " Well the king's condition is more advanced than any case we had but if we make the medicine stronger and he takes it every day his health will make progress" Rhaenyra sighed with relief and became curious, Aquila mother and sister entered the room, Vega with a bunch of herbs in her hands and a bag hanging from Capella's  shoulders "I have a question maester, Carlos" she said as she watches Vega and Capella mixing a bunch of ingredients together "Ask away princess" maester Carlos said as he start to wash his hands with a bowl that holds warm water "Does milk of poppy and maggost eating the infected flesh help my father with his condition?" Otto look at the princess and was about to talk when a voice stoped him "Milk of poppy and maggots?" Capella said with horror in her eyes.

Daemon and Rhaenyra look at each other " Milk of poppy only will help with the pain but not with the infection, while maggots...I believe maggots just make the infection worse" Maester Carlos said as he pour the medicine into a cup, Daemon and Rhaenyra looked at Otto and Alicent with murderous faces"You must be wrong then because it has been helping the king" Vega got closer to the hand "Maester Carlos cure my late husband with this same medicine when he had this condition and lived, are you really doubting a medicine that helped a king?" Otto just stayed silent "soror, faciamus aliquid de hoc, illa duo sunt occisio eum" Capella share her concern with her sister "bene dicis" the queen got up from her chair "As Queen of lune I decided to make maester Carlos the kings caretaker while he and his family stay in lune" Otto looked angry but stayed quiet along with his daughter who only nodded, meanwhile Rhaenyra look relive and smiled "My Queen during the kings and his family stay the king will be making process" Aquila nodded and look at the king "I would do anything to make sure you be healthy and that rhaenyra sits in that throne" she whispers to the king who can barely look at her.

Nash looks at himself in the mirror and smiles "look at you, you are about to turn ten and five, and soon going to be the king of Sol" Nash turned around and saw his father standing behind him "Deus you scared me!" Arthur chuckled and got closer to him "You have made me and your mother proud son"  nash smiled and wrap his arms around his father "Now come on it's time to celebrate" Nash nodded and follow his father.

All the townspeople and houses are standing around the ballroom, eating and drinking. The main doors of the room open, and the Solar family enters with Queen Aquila and King Epsilon in front and behind them Princess Amalthea who was waving and smiling at the common folks, The royal family of Lune got to their sits and stand in front of them and watch as the Martell's family entered the same pattern as the Solar's. Queen Aquila smiled and look at everyone in the room "Thank you all for being here to celebrate the week of the princess and prince name day, Enjoy yourself" Music started playing after Aquila's speech. Amalthea looked around the room and smile seeing everyone happily dancing, her parents already on the dance floor.

  Viserys watch his daughter and brother dancing together "Would you like to dance my king?" a calm voice said behind him, Europa stand there with a kind smile and a hand in front of him "Queen Europa I believe that the king is too sick to dance" Alicent said but Europa just look at her and return her vision to the king "I will be honored" Alicent shakes her head "Husband you are sick" Viserys just shakes his head "Maester Carlos said that moving would be good for me" Europa softly took the king and guide him to the dance floor where a lot of folks made space for them. Rhaenyra gasped, tears forming in her eyes as she watches her father dance, her husband Daemon also watch his brother dance, right there Rhaenyra was so glad to see that the medicine is helping her father. Europa look at the princess and made eye contact with Daemon who nodded and grab his wife and got closer to the two, Europa look at the king "Why not dance with someone special" Viserys look at her confused but she only smiles and stepped away, Rhaenyra came to view, tears running down her cheeks "father" Viserys smiles and grab his daughter's hands. Alicent watched father and daughter dancing together and a small smile formed on her lips "Queen Alicent would you like to dance?" Alicent looks at the hand and then to the face and saw King Arthur, she looks shocked and looks at the hand for a bit but eventually grabs the hand and lets Arthur guide her to the dance floor. That day the Alicent children saw her smile for the first time.

Aemond looked around the room and made eye contact with Amalthea who wave at him, he just nodded at her making her smile fade a little "A broken heart will be repair by fire" Helaena whispered next to him. Hours pass and the party started to become small little by little "Everyone thank you for coming" Amalthea said as she says her goodbye to all the folks. On her way to her chambers, she saw Aemond taking his brother by the arm "Prince Aemond, prince Aegon is everything alright?" Aemond just stares at her, and Amalthea just sighs and looks at Aegon "If you call maester Carlos he can give your brother something for tomorrow, good night" she walked away her guard following her. Aemond watches as the princess walks away and grabs his brother and takes him to his chambers.

Amalthea sat on her vanity and let her maids brush her hair "Have you talked to you know who" the teen just look at her maid "We decided to stop, said that he was not ready for this responsibility" her maid Angela gave her a quick hug "Love sometimes don't work out, but do not worry a new love will find you" Amalthea nodded and quickly wipe her tears. In bed, Amalthea lays there with a broken heart, her eyes start to close themself putting her into a deep slumber not knowing that her future is in the same castle as her.

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Hope you guys like this chapter, and im sorry if this took a while. Have an amazing day, night, afternoon, or morning.

Translation

soror, faciamus aliquid de hoc - sister, let's do something about this

illa duo sunt occisio eum- Those two are killing him

bene dicis - you are right

This is what I imagine them wearing 

Aquila - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/219128338110419256/

Epsilon - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/105693922489894629/ 

Amalthea - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/770467448754679557/ 

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Europa -https://www.pinterest.com/pin/10766486601834207/  

Arthur-https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4644405845823035/ 

Nash - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/3237030974870641/ 

Chapter V (The Hunt pt II)

Maesterlist

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Amalthea is seen sitting down with Nash eating cake and judging the ladies from other houses, a man got closer to the two and smiles and bows to the princess and prince "Happy name days my princess and prince" Amalthea smiled "Thank you Lord Stark" both teens say at the same time "I have brought a present for you two" Lord stark call a man over with his hand, the man bows and place a blue box in front of the princess and a similar box in front of the prince. The princess opens the box and gasps, inside the box is a diamond necklace with matching earrings and two feather-like hairpieces, and a ring with the lune symbol in the middle, the prince opens his and saw a gold-handled dagger with a similar ring to his aunt but this one has Sol symbol "Thank you lord stark" both of them said smiling, Lord stark smile and bows "Happy name day again princess and prince" both teens smile and watch as he walks away. The hunt was about to start whoever brought the biggest animal is the winner.

Princess Amalthea decided to stay with her sister as her mother and father has gone on the hunt, she currently eating cake when she saw princess Rhaenyra eating lemon cake "Princess" Rhaenyra turn around and saw Amalthea smiled"Princess Amalthea last time I saw you was on your first name day" Amalthea nodded and look at the lemon cakes "You like lemon cake also?" Rhaenyra smiled and nodded "These are delicious who made them" Amalthea beamed "I did" Rhaenyra look at her shocked "Really?"  the princess nodded "I've been baking since I was ten, my grandmother thought me how" the two heirs are seen walking to a table and start having a conversation. The King sees the two heirs smile and turn to his wife "When Rhaenyra and Princess Amalthea become queens they going to continue our peaceful alias" Alicent look at the two with a look in her eyes and looks at her father.

After the hunt, Nash sees the two sons of Rhaenyra looking down as ladies talk about them "Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys would you like to join me?" the two princes look surprised and made their way to Nash who starts taking arrows from a bag "Have you ever use a bow?" Nash asks, and the two princes shake their heads "Would you like to learn?" they nodded and Nash smiles and grab two more bows "Here I teach you" he grabs an arrow from the floor and put it on the bow "Just put the arrow here and then hold it like this, pull, aim and shoot" the arrow went flying and hit the bullseye, the two princes did what Nash told them and aim it, sadly the arrows fall on the floor "That was sad" Nash look them "No worries these bows are harder I believe a crossbow will be easier for you two" Nash grab his and Amalthea crossbow and gave it to them "How do you use this?"  Lucerys ask looking at the purple crossbow "Well you just put the arrow in here and it will stay, you just have to aim and pull the string and then let it go" the prince said as he put an arrow in the middle and helped the prince aim it "Put your body like this and take a deep breath and never take your eyes off the target and when you ready just let go of the string"   Lucerys nodded and took a deep breath and let go of the string, the arrow hit the target, Lucerys smile, and Nash cheer "See you did it" Lucerys nodded and look at his brother. Rhaenyra smile at her sons, happy that they are making friends with Prince Nash "Ah I see my son is teaching your sons how to use a crossbow" looking next to her she saw King Arthur "How long does Prince nash know how to use the crossbow?" Rhaehnyra asks "Nash and Amalthea start their lesson when they were seven" Daemon looks impressed.

Amalthea is seen looking around and spots Princess Helaena with her children who were sitting down on the floor, Amalthea made her way towards them "Hello Princess" Helaena turn and smiles at Amalthea "Princess Amalthea" she bows but Amalthea stops her "No need we both princesses, now who are these cuties?" she asked as she sat down with them on the floor "This is  Jaehaerys and Jaehaera" Amalthea smiled at them "They are very cute, I guess they got that from their mother" Helaena smiled "So I heard that you like bugs, I'm must say I was surprised to find out that someone is also curious about them" Helaena look at Amalthea with a shocked face "Yes, how did you know?" Amalthea just pointed at the spider in Helaena's hand "The first thing you did when you sat down was play around with the insects" Helaena put her head down "hey it's okay I was like that when I was younger, my father bought me a book of different type of insects and must I say I learned a lot, you can have it if you want" Helaena shakes her head "No it's an ok princess you can keep it" Amalthea just smile "No it's fine I don't need it anymore, I give it to you when we go back to the castle"Helaena smiled.

The girls stayed talking with each other until nighttime came out, Queen Aquila got up from her chair and cling her fork with her cup "Lords and ladies thank you for participating in today's hunt, tomorrow morning we make our way back to the castle, have a good night" the queen said and dismissed everyone. Everyone in the camp made their way to their tent to have a good rest.

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Thank you for reading hope you like this chapter, I was kinda rushing through this chapter. I'm also sorry for not posting this soon it's just that I got lazy these past few days.

Have a good day, night, or afternoon, talk to you next chapter :)

Chapter IV (The hunt)

Masterlist

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Maids were running around with plates full of food, and some maids were doing final touches in the ballroom. In the bigger room royal family and all the houses were sitting waiting to eat breakfast, Queen Aquila turned to her sister "Where are Amalthea and Nash?" princess Capella shrugged her shoulders, Aquila sighed and looked at her daughter, Europa just sighed and got up getting everyone attention "Please forgive my son and sister for being late it's very rare that they late" Epsilon got up from his chair and made his way to the door a little later Arthur follow his steps. Meanwhile, the prince and princess were still sleeping after they sneak out to go to a party and got a little drunk with the wine. The King knocks on the door of his daughter's chambers "My king Nash is not in his room" the voice Arthur says behind him, the king only sighs and knocks harder on the door, on the other side of the door they hear a yelp and a stultus following after, the doors open Amalthea stand there looking at her father and good-brother "What?" Epilson pushes her off the way and enters her chambers.

Arthur closes the door with a sigh and went to his son that is laying on the floor, and smack his head, once, twice, and even a third time but he still won't wake up "You missing breakfast Amalthea, all the lords and ladies are in the dining room questioning themself where are the two people they come to celebrate" Amalthea groan and look at her father "Now I would like to know why were you and your nephew still sleeping at this hour and why Nash is in your floor pass out?" Arthur took the cup his son had in his hand and smelled it"Wine" Amalthea shut her eyes while Epsilon took a deep breath "You two went to a party" he said already knowing the answer "...Yes" Epsilon just sigh "Just get ready...I call your maids and please wake up Nash" The king says walking out the door "After waking Nash up please send him to his chambers so he can also get clean up" Arthur said looking down at his son and going to the door "Alright" After both kings left Amalthea to look at her nephew and grab him by his collar and slap him, waking him up "What the fuck" he screams, Amalthea help him get up and push him out the door "Ser Isac, can you please take my nephew to his chambers and please tell his maids to prepare him a bath" the guard nodded and took Nash arm. After bath Amalthea stand in front of the mirror looking out her window "Is this a good princess" her maid ask looking up at her, Amalthea just nodded and dismiss her.

The doors of the dining room open "Princess Amalthea heir of Queen Aquila, future queen of Lune, Prince Nash heir of Queen Europa future king of Sol" a guard announce as the two teens walk through the door, everyone stand up and bowed to them, both teens loom forward and got to their sit and sat down. Aquila looks at the two and sighs "Thank you all for being here to celebrate Princess Amalthea and Prince Nash's ten and five name day, now we can eat" The queen says. After Breakfast everyone went to the carriages and went to a place where the Lunes always celebrate the name days of their family, the field where they hunt. Queen Aquila allowed house stark to take their direwolf and house Targaryen to take their dragon, after all, they also take their basilisk and phoenix with them.

Princess Amalthea and Prince Nash sat on top of their basilisk as they follow their family carriage. The Prince looks at his aunt and smirks "Wanna raise?" Amalthea smirked and look at him "Dear Nephew when will you learn that Calypso is faster than Cosmo?" Nash glare at her "Very well, mother me and Nash are gonna raise see you in the field" Aquila just nodded and watch as their basilisk stopped and step aside. Everyone in their carriages looks confused seeing the princess and prince stopping "Ready Nephew?" Amalthea says "Ready" they both look ahead as their basilisk playfully hisses at each other "unus... duo...tres...GO" Amalthea counted, Both basilisks start moving as fast as they can, passing by the line of carriages that are following the Queen and Kings "vos eundo deorsum matertera" Nash screams as he look at his aunt "in somniis tuis" Amalthea bend down and told calypso "Calypso finish him" with that the purple basilisk went faster "Hey not fair!" Nash screams.

Calypso stops as soon as he enters the field where there were maids, none were scared as they saw the snake. The princess got down and waited for the rest "Princess would you like some cake?" a maid ask as she hand the princess a plate "Thank you Miri"Amalthea say with a smile, she stab a piece of cake and gave it to Calypso "Here you go my sweet" A hiss was heard behind her, Cosmo enters the field "That was not fair Aunt" Amalthea just rolled her eyes "Stop bitching about the race, Calypso is not nickname the great lighting for nothing" As the rest of the carriages arrive both snakes were seen hissing at each other "Let me guess Calypso wins again" Capella's voice said behind both teens, Amalthea smirked and walk away. As everyone starts doing their own things they turn around and saw both basilisks now wrap and rolling around with each other, every house look scared while the royal family and the maids and guards were not fazed by the action of the two snakes, suddenly a red and blue basilisk approach the two and hiss, both beast stop and detangle from each other, the red and blue basilisk bow its head towards the people and left and smack the two young basilisks with its tail "What just happen?" Queen Alicent ask "Im so sorry about them Calypso and Cosmo are always play fighting," Queen Europa says as she approached the family "Who basilisk was that?" Rhaenyra asks as she watches the red and blue basilisk scolding the two others "That is my mother's basilisk Cusp, she is the mother of Calypso and Cosmo, she always keeps them in check"  Rhaenyra nodded and looks at her husband who is looking at the three creatures.

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Hello everyone thank you for reading, I'm actually surprised that I'm updating this book a lot, This chapter will have a part two so look out for that Hope you like this chapter and have an amazing day, night, or afternoon.

Translation

stultus- Stupid

Unus, Duo, Tres- One, two, three

vos eundo deorsum matertera- You going down, aunt

in somniis tuis- in your dreams

Chapter II(The Invite)

Masterlist

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After days of travelling the ravens finally got to their destination, Kings Landing, The kingdom of the Targaryens. In the castle, the messenger entered the council room where the council and the royal family sat "Your Grace, I'm sorry to disturb but a raven from Lune has arrived" a guard grabbed the letter from the messenger and give it to the queen as the king is in no shape to read, The queen grabbed it and read it "The Queen and King of Lune are inviting us to the name day of Princess Amalthea and Prince Nash, they are turning ten and five" Everyone looked surprised after all the last time they saw the solar family was during the first name day of the princess and prince "When is the celebration?" asked the king with a weak voice "In a week" the king weakly smiled "Then we should go" the Queen look at her husband and shook her head "Husband you are not in good condition to travel" The king only smiled "Alicent I have not seen my friends in years, I would like to see them one last time before I pass" Queen Alicent nodded " When we will leave father?" princess Rhaenyra ask her father "Tomorrow after all Lune is far from King's landing" everyone nodded and got dismissed.

Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon enter their chambers, servants following behind "Please start packing the children's stuff than ours" the princess says as the servants bowed and left "Mother was going on?" ask prince Jacaerys as he and his brother prince Lucerys enter the room, the princess turned around and rub her stomach "The Queen and King of Lune have invited us to the name day of princess Amalthea and prince Nash, we are leaving tomorrow" the two princes nodded and went to sit down.

The next day when the sun was barely out the family were up and ready, As they settle on their ship their dragons screeched and follow the ship. The Queen look at her husband as he look out the window "Husband you think this is a good idea?" she asked as she played with her hands "Of course... I want to see them one last time" the Queen nodded and look down. Meanwhile, the princess was looking at her hands "Why is lune so far from Westeros?" Lucerys ask, Rhaenyra looks up and smiles "They like to have their own land" Luke nodded and looks at his brother. Meanwhile in Lune Houses from around arrive at the docks the royal family welcomes them with joy.

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Sorry about the short chapter I didn't know what else to write. Hope you enjoy chapter two, there's a chance that I start chapter three tomorrow.

Take care of yourself and have a wonderful day, night or afternoon depending on what time you have. Talk to you in the next chapter :)

Chapter I (Return of the Princess)

Welcome to the first Chapter of House Solar

Masterlist

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The day has come, were the people of both Lune and Sol come together to celebrate the name day of Princess Amalthea and Prince Nash. The Ravens were sent two weeks before the day of the celebrations. Houses from all around will come to Lune for the celebration that will last for weeks. And one of those houses is the Targaryens, Now they may have a bad history in the past but ever since the wedding of the current Queen and king of lune everything has been good between the two houses. That day everyone in the castle is busy, servants running around making sure that everything is perfect, Guards' training and The royals being fitted for new dresses and robes. A ship is seen stopping near the castle docs. Above Lune, Phoenixes are seen flying freely.

 A Violet hair girl is seen standing next to a big snake, This is princess Amalthea with her Basilisk Calypso they just came back from a weekday trip to the forest that is located near Lune "Welcome Princess, hope your trip was a nice one" a trainer said as the princess took her gloves off "Oh yes it was pleasant" the trainer bowed to the princes as one of her guards and good friend made her way to her "Princess your mother is looking for you, she said to meet her in your chambers so a tailor can measure you for your dresses" Amalthe groan and walk towards the gold and purple carriage. As the princess and guard settle down in the carriage it starts making its way to the castle. The princess opened the window of the carriage and start smiling and waving at the common folks "The princess is back!" she heard a small child scream. In the castle, the Queen is standing in front of a window as she sees the carriage approach "My Queen the small council meeting is gonna start in a minute" a servant said as she bow to the Queen, The Queen nodded and dismissed her and turned around and walk out of the room. Guards opened the main door where the princess walked in "filia welcome back" Amalthe turned towards the stairs and saw her father, the king on top of them "Pater" she said as she run towards him, the king hug her and swung her around "mea dulcis puella, I'm so glad you came back without a scratch" Amalthea smile as her father kisses her forehead "Wheres mater?" the king sigh and caress her cheek "Your Mater is in a council meeting" Amalthea sigh and nodded "Come the tailors are waiting in your chambers" both father and daughter start walking up the stairs with two guards following them. Amalthea stand still as the assistant tailors measure her "Princess what would you like your dress to look like?" the tailor lady carmen asks"Well I would like it to be the colour of my house the rest can be whatever you want" Lady Carmen and the princess have a strong bond, knowing each other since they were five. Carmen smile and nodded and write the measurements "Carmen you are invited to the party you know that" the princess said as she grab her friend's hand "Of course" both girls smile and hug each other "You are dismiss my friend" Lady Carmen bow and walk out the room. In the council room, they were discussing Princess Amalthea "Your grace I understand you want your daughter to find love like you and your firstborn found but everyone is talking about her" The master of laws say as he stand from his chair, The Queen sigh and said "Ser Diego do I have to repeat myself? my daughter is gonna choose her husband and if she does not want to get married that is her decision, not mine and the king's and especially not the council" everyone look at the queen and put their head down, The hand smile and nodded. 'Do you think I was a little hard on them?" ask the Queen to her hand "Of course, not sister, they should learn" The Queen's hand is her younger sister Princess Capella, a woman that did not want to get married and of course, her sister respected her wishes and made her hand instead, Of course, their mother was upset but also respected her wishes. The Queen nodded and smile at her. Queen Aquila entered her daughter's chambers and saw Thebe, the phoenix was just resting in her bed, a purple and gold collar around his neck "That bird is spoiled" Amalthea turn and smile and hug her mother "infantem puella how was the trip?" the duo sat down in a sofa "Oh mother it was beautiful and fun, met new animals" The Queen smile and listen to her daughter story. They stayed like that all day until dinner was served, and of course, during dinner, she keep telling her parents about her adventure. ============================================= Hello thank you for reading this story, I hope you enjoy it. This story is gonna be a slow burn one, the reasons are because of school and also because sometimes I'm lazy.  Anyway, at the end of every chapter, I will put the translation of the Latin or portugues. filia - daughter Pater -father mea dulcis puella - my sweet girl Mater -mother Infantem puella - Baby girl

Masterlist of House Solar

Welcome to the masterlist of House solar a House of the Dragon au fic

Summary - People may think that the Targaryens are most feared because of their dragons, but they are wrong. the royal family of Lune is known best for winning the war against the Targaryens, Winning that war they got their independence and is apart from all the drama Westeros have. Now Lune is free and having the best time of their life living in peace.

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Prologue/Cast 

Visuals

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

House Solar (A house of the Dragon au)

Aemond Targaryen x oc

Prologue/Cast

Masterlist

The kingdom of Lune is known to be a strong kingdom, surrounded by water and mountains, ruled by house solar, Like the Targaryen, the Solars get an egg placed in their crib but this was no dragon egg it was an egg of a phoenix while house Moon is given an egg of a Basilisk, of course, they can tame other creatures but these ones are the one they are given at birth.

Queen Aquila Solar nee Moon firstborn daughter of King Leo and Queen Vega. Ever since she came out of her mother's womb she became an heir. As she got older she knew that one day she will have to marry a lord to make king and have heirs of their own, But one day she met prince Epsilon Solar, his kingdom disappeared little by little, destroyed by House Lannister. Some say that their love was, at first sight, others say that they hated each other but only one is correct and that was love at first sight. Their relationship became something beautiful. When Prince Epsilon asked for her hand the king and queen were happy that their daughter found love. On their wedding day, they invited king Viserys Targaryen the first along with his lady wife Aemma Arryn and made peace with them. A year after the big wedding the soon-to-be Queen became pregnant with her first child, sadly the babe was stillborn. That day the people from Lune heard the scream of the princess. Both couples had weeks to mourn but three moons later she became with child again. The couple sadly could not enjoy the happiness for too long because later that day the king became ill. King Leo was able to see his first grandchild, princess Europa was born with natural Violet hair with brownish-gold eyes. Years passed and Princess Europa met prince Arthur Martell, they later on marry and became pregnant a moon later. At the same time, Queen Aquila also became pregnant. During Princess Europa's pregnancy, she decided she wanted to rebuild her father's old home, with her mother's permission she start to build the kingdom of Sol and later on pass the title of heir to her unborn sibling and became Queen of Sol. Moons later In the morning of a summer day the sun and moon touch making the day darker, and a prince and princess were born. Queen Aquila birth Princess Amalthea heir to Lune while her daughter Queen Europa birth Prince Nash heir to Sol. Both heirs share the same name day they become closer, they feel more like siblings and not like aunt and nephew

---Cast----

. Michel Prada as Queen Aquila Solar

"Queen of Lune"

Diego Luna as King Epsilon Solar

"King of Lune"

Jenna Ortega as Princess Amalthea Solar

"Princess and Heir to Lune"

Rosa Salazar as Queen Europa Solar

"Queen of Sol"

Tony Revolori as King Arthur Martell

"King of Sol"

Isaak Presley as Prince Nash Martell

"Prince and heir of Sol"

Princess Capella Lune “Younger sister of the Queen and hand of the Queen"

Salma Hayek as Queen Vega Lune "Past Queen of Lune"

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I finally decided to post the story in Tumblr, I still dont got the hang of using tumblr for posting. I want to make a masterlist but I dont know how to link them together, still trying to learn. Anyway hope you guys like the prologue, this story is also in wattpad my user and the link of this story is in another post of mine. 

Jacaerys Velaryon has had enough of this lesbianism.

Hii, could you write a Yandere Jacaerys Velaryon with a Targaryen reader? (the reader is Viserys and Alicent's daughter)

YANDERE JACAERYS VELARYON X TARGERYAN READER

🌊 you were the second daughter to alicent Hightower born after aemond . Alicent often spoiled you since unlike your other siblings you were close to normal. Normal in being that you didn’t cause trouble or rumours.

🌊your half sister rhaenyra had brought up the discussion of your betrothal to the small council. Alicent desperately tried to keep you away from your half sister and her plain featured sons however failed to do so and as a way to repair the family you and your nephew jacaerys would wed on your sixteenth name day.

🌊jacaerys wanted a marriage full of love and trust so he tried to find out everything about you. however he didn’t know was doing this would cause him to fall into a pit of infatuation.

🌊his obsession grew quickly and just as quickly as it came the stronger it grew. He began to become possessive demanding that as his future bride you should only be around him and no others since they could taint you. He even brought it up to the council staring alicent in the eyes as he said “I would not want my future bride to be tainted by I’ll willed men and bastards” leaving alicent in a fit of rage . As she knew and everyone knew who the true bastards where in king’s landing.he was left successful so you are no longer around any others other then him and your mother…

🌊he forces you to wear red all green is burned in your wardrobe.

🌊anyone dares look at you will be fed to vermax under suspicious circumstances that they had somehow made there way to the dragon pit and went to see a dragon.( they didn’t jacaerys forced them to go down there and vermax feeling his riders feelings did as he was told ).

🌊as soon as you are married he takes you to dragon stone there you can only have his company he doesn’t allow you to have maids he says “I can’t trust them with you you far to important to me “.

🌊he wants an heir really bad so he gets to work if you can’t have a child for some reason he blames it on your mother and the greens .

🌊he does spoil you loads by giving you jewels and trin keys that you may not need but looks gorgeous.

🌊if you have a dragon he will not allow you to ride it he will only allow you to ride with him on his dragon.

🌊if for whatever reason you have to go in public he showers you in pda and I mean SHOWERS you.

🌊when the dance of dragons begins he is frustrated and the news of his brothers death just adds to it . He will be furious and throw tantrums and will say things like “your lucky little star I got you out of there when I did !” And “now can you see why I must keep you here in this room those ignorant usurpers are traitors and would’ve tainted you without a single thought… I saved you “

🌊he will guilt trip you and manipulate you with every trick in the book until your truly obedient for him don’t get me wrong though he will 100% be loyal to you and anything you wish is yours there are only two rules :

1. Stay with him

2. Don’t ever try and leave him.

🌊he is 7/10 not the worse yandere to have but definitely not the best . Overall good luck …

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️

Where is my Jacela wedding scene? I was told there was going to be a secret wedding, and as far as I can tell, I just got disappointed instead😔

Anyone else pretend that Rhaenyra or Alicent can somehow give birth to a poc baby while reading fanfics?

❝I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage. I will not be swept aside.❞

[ The Prince Jacaerys Velaryon should have known his wife better— or at least, her ire, for when his trysts with the bastard Snow reached the Spiders and soon, the ears of his Princess Consort, rage and war drummed for Winterfell, demanding heads.

—Maestre Kevan, Volume IV of The Bastard Eater, passage chapter under 'The Flame that Sung for the North'. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 10,062 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), one-sided aegon ii x reader, jace x sara snow

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader, targcest, smut, angst - post-vizzy t death, rhaenyra is queen - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - allusions to infidelity & character death(s) - targaryen madness, revenge, domestic violence (not jace), unhinge behaviour, intense use of 'bastard', profanity, gaslighting, guilt-tripping - this is basically gone girl, you gone girl jace - dark fic - mentions of depression (aegon ii), allusions to suicide (not reader) - nsfw: oral (f receiving), breeding kink, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i didn't think i was going to do the sara snow thing, but herewe are. also i just wanted an excuse to go absolutely ape shit. reader gets very intense, like thoroughly unhinged. this is literally me supporting women's wrongs. it is also quite insane that this reached 10k and it's still just the first part lmaooo + comment, reblog & like at will!

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD! THAT GODSDAMNED, WHORE-FUCKING STRONG HALF BREED!"

Your shrieks echo stone and shadow, interrupted only by the things you pick up and hurl. Anything your hands grab, you throw and spit obscenities against, rage and tears ruin your pretty visage. The fury swept past your cherub features, a dragon breaking through the Hightower seams, upending fire and roar from the pits of your being.

"HOW DARE HE?! I GAVE HIM AN HEIR! I BROUGHT HIM PEACE! I BETRAYED—" you roar, pulling your pearl dagger— a gift from your Strong Bastard of a Husband — and throwing it to your vanity mirror, glass shards exploding. "— MY KIN!"

"DAUGHTER, PLEASE!"

Arms wound across your torso—hardened and chain-mail — as you fight against your bounds before a pain flashes to your cheek. Your rage quiets, hard breaths from your lungs. You turn your tear-stained anger to your mother and her palm, fright and terror on her regale visage.

Death of a spouse becomes the Queen Dowager in her pale blue robe and unbound spirals of auburn hair. Peace had begotten a realm that is balanced on the lineage you had produced for the Queen, her heir, and your own, as the new Princess of Dragonstone. With Otto Hightower for evermore banished to Oldtown, Kings Landing had been brought to a flowering kindness.

Queen Rhaenyra's ascension had been a wondrous affair, fit the for the first crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not a Queen Consort, not a Queen Regent. An heir who rose for the crown always meant to be hers.

But the calamity that brewed in her ascension... no. You paved the peace. T'was you who wrangled the Great Houses that proved allyship to your twin brother's banner, you who blessed her with tranquility of a rule that will be known for ages that will precede you all.

And now her son... her son dared to destroy everything.

A conversation floats above your head, by your Queen Mother and her sworn shield, the Ser Cole, but you barely hear anything past the ringing in your head.

The Targaryen Madness the sheep so call it, an idle voice, faint and familiar, whispers in the niches of your brain. It has infected you so. It breathes, fuelled by the air wrought by your husband's betrayal. It sings, sweet love. It sings.

"—your grace, I urge to hold her—"

"—she is my daughter, Ser Cole, I am not in danger. Release her."

Justice, the voice shrieks? Screams? But it is so soft in your head, a wail of a memory, a woman or a man? must be had. No dragon falls in such disgrace.

The tight wound over your torso is unleashed but the knight is not far, tensed to cage you, when your mother grasps your elbows as you grab hers, nails digging into the thick fabric of her hem that she still winces, your grip steel-tight.

"My darling, please. I cannot help you if you do not speak what ails you." She brushes her hand desperately across your face, smearing your tears, trying to find the daughter she bore past the savagery and madness that beholds you now. "What has happened?"

You draw a tightened, harsh breath to your lungs, rattling your bones that you quiver in your attempt for sanity.

"I am being shamed, mother," you whisper. Stark, violet eyes meeting the worried round, brown of hers. "The Strong bastard is whoring himself to another, a Northern bastard."

A cackle falls your lips as alarmed gazes are exchanged above your head.

"Y-You cannot say such things aloud, sweet girl," your mother hushes your madness, pulling you close to her chest as she shoots a glance at the door.

Criston checks outside, but only your maids linger. Dyanna presses a finger against her lips, catching the knight's eye, and the rest scatter, surely to make sure that no one that need not know of their mistress' words is within reach. A shiver still runs his spine. He will never get used to the quiet, almost non-verbal way your connection worked and reached. Your Spiders weave webs all around, even as their mistress sunders with rage.

"Mayhaps you are mistaken, for sure the prince is loyal, and he adores you—"

You pull back against her, teeth bared. She flinches and Ser Cole steps forward, wary. "It is the third missive now that I have received. Did you think I would not have confirmed twice— thrice? I didn't believe it the first time! But three people have now confirmed that all this time, in the guise of rallying his mother's cause in the North, he is spending ample time with the Lord Stark's bastard sister. His bastard fucking sister!"

Your mother's horror catches that of Ser Criston's, but your fury is your own, you are a dragon trapped in the ruin of your own making, of the webs you had spun so cleverly to get to this point, and you cannot stop.

"I am the Heir's Wife. I bore the Heir his lineage, my blood spilled the birthing bed for it." A cry leaves your lips as your grief and rage pools like ichor from your chest to the floor. Alicent is torn away from you— your nails had gone through her robe and she had cried in pain, a mimick of your own, a mother to a daughter to a mother to a daughter, a cycle, an Ouroboros — and you fall to the floor, grasping at your chest.

"I will not be swept aside. I will not be ignored."

A gasp falls from your lips as your mind moves to a quiet, still place. The tremble fades, your rage and grief whirls, collects, as you push it all back inside your chest.

Your madness must be sharpened for it be used as a sword.

And you cannot let him be happy in another's arms.

If you cannot drag them to the Hells, sweet dragon, the idle voice hums, hisses? Screeches. Your ancestors— all of those who have succumbed to dreamy madness — appears in the corners of your vision like soldiers. Awaiting for you to join them. Awaiting the blood that you will spill.

Then you must raise the Hells unto Winterfell.

"...my daughter?" Alicent calls, hesitant. Cole hovers but does not approach, standing guard in protection of the Dowager. It breaks her heart to see you this way, a young woman still, much older than she was when she married but only because you had always sought your future. You had always had a hardened scale, far stronger than she.

Even when you made your entrance to the world— the unmeasurable pain of bringing not one, but two heirs into the world, her firstborns, all at once — you had never cried. The maestres, maids, they worried for you, as your twin brother had not stopped crying, so alive and red, raw from the wound of being fresh.

But you... you had not made a sound.

The entire weight of your being— your mind, your emotions — even then, you wrangled them close to your very centre, never letting them stray too far from the edges of your fingertips. As if any release must be made with a perused thought. An incentive of reason.

Even then, you plotted every step you took.

Now, Alicent watches as her firstborn daughter suctions all her emotions— that Targaryen madness that plagued the blood of her husband, his ancestors — and made her ploy.

Against the husband that dared make a fool of her.

The silence beckons nightmare. Old fear flickers inside the Queen Dowager.

"Where are my daughters?"

"What?"

"My daughters," you repeat, a hair's breadth louder than the first time you spoke. Your eyes flutter upward. The deadened gaze curled Alicent's heart in fear. "Where are they?"

"In the nursery, with the twins and Maelor. Helaena and Aegon are watching them."

You offer your hand up mutely, and Cole exchanges one last, lingering look with the Dowager, before offering his own. You stand up, thank him softly, and brush and clean up your face to the best of your ability. An utter calmness over your visage.

"Tell no one of what I had told you," you say, fixing your hair and rubbing the red from your cheeks. One minute there is madness, the next there is nothing. There is only a girl. A woman. A princess. "No one knows apart the three of us, and if you ever decide, Ser Criston, that nigh is the glorious time for you to betray my mother or I, know that the last thing thing oyu will fear is the Stranger's hand when I am through with you."

Your mother shouts your name, horrified. "What are you thinking? What are you plotting?"

You cup Alicent's face, smiling ever sweet. "Your innocence will keep you safe, mother. All I ask, for the heart you keep for your children, that you keep this between sealed lips and tilted chin. You know nothing, yes?"

"... Yes. Nothing."

You place a tender kiss on your mother's head. "Keep Daenera and Aemma safe for me. Aegon and I are flying to Dragonstone promptly. Sweet Helaena does ever so get overwhelmed by watching all of the children by herself."

"D-Dragonstone?"

Your sweet smile touched with poison, stretches. "It is high time I take a dragon for myself, don't you think so?"

While an insecure obsession had fraught your younger brother about claiming a dragon, you had met it with indifference.

For how can you not mourn the loss of Aemond's sight, staring in quiet horror the entire time as the maestre did his best to salvage the muck mess of blood and nerve endings, before the old man had shaken his head, and you turned to the small bowl that contained your brother's eye, unable to look at anything else.

Not even when your mother's rage was met with apathy and anger, her demands for justice nothing more than a woman's insanity, a mother's grief that must be swept away, tucked under a chin and a sadness she will never get rid of.

"Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

Your soft-hearted, darling, baby brother. None of his words had thawed the freezing of your heart, the grief under the swell of your breastbone.

Your own mourning was kept between teeth and tongue, as you had slept with your siblings that night. The four of you, tucked under the wing of the other, Aemond close to your chest as possible, as quiet, hot tears ran down your face. Every moan of pain or whimper he made in his sleep tore at each new vein inside of you.

"Dragons are the symbol of our House's power," Aegon had once said, windswept hair you tried to tame with your fingers, smelling fresh of Sunfyre and winds.

"And yet, there were no eggs in our child beds." He stiffened while you smiled sadly, curling your twin's hair away form his face, making him presentable and dusting the bout of sand that managed to find his leathers. You had been scolded long before by your grandsire of how you coddle Aegon, how you defend him, mother him more than your mother ever could, but you cannot stop. You were meant to care for him, tethered you once were inside your mother's womb together, you hold him steady now.

Whenever he was lost, whenever his sadness overtook him, wrung your brother dry of life, you bat the Stranger's hand and bring him back.

"But we have proved them wrong," he insisted. "All of us, even Aemond with Vhagar— the war queen, Visenya's dragon — we have claimed ours. Daeron all the way Oldtown has Tessarion, even Helaena has Dreamfyre. And yet you insist..."

You wound your arms over his torso, keeping him close in a silly hug where you sway and dance him around. A laugh escaped him while you inhaled the scent of smoke, soot, and that grime stench of beast.

Aegon on his good days lacked the bottle-edge of wine, of cheap salts from the waft of the soiled, Silk Streets.

This was your brother. No one else.

"I fare better without one," you whispered in his ear. "I appear innocent, sweet almost, without a beast in my command. They look at me with nothing but pity and the urge to protect me. Our father likes me like this, his poor, lovely daughter without a dragon of her own, listening so intently to his histories of Old Valyria. Our sister is eased, as one daughter is plagued by dreams and struggles with the real world, while the other cannot even claim a dragon of her own. Poor princess, Hightower blood must have thickened in her veins. She too, is no threat."

You pulled back, smiling at him. "They like me better like this. Pitiful, compliant, nothing but a sweet and pretty flower that sways in the Spring breeze. A beautiful decoration but no more."

He rubbed a thumb on your arm, a worry knot on his forehead. Aegon adored you but he struggled to piece together where your plot lies. You are a web-spinner, forever dancing out of reach, catching prey and lengthening your intricacies. "Is that why you hide your training with Aemond alone? Ser Criston is mother's sworn shield, he would not mind—"

"I will not place my secrecies to a knight with a soiled cloaked," you snorted. "No matter how tall he stands beside our mother. I trust no one but my kin. And I know that no matter how heavy you drink, sweet Aeg of mine, my secrets are your own."

He took your hand, kissing the back of it, stare impregnable. "As your blood is my own, our fire is one flame. I go where you tell me to."

You kissed his cheek, a reward, laughing. He smiles proudly at the sound. At this time, you dangled yourself to your brother as bait as the pressure from your grandsire to make him King started rising. You had been given notice that he had been talking to House Lannister, Wylde, even some Riverland lords.

You did not mind becoming Aegon's second wife. Just as his namesake, he will have his Rhaenys and Visenya. Unlike the Conqueror however, he would adore his Visenya more than a true flower. Helaena would enjoy that far better.

"And if I tell you to jump?" you half-purred.

"I will ask you how high."

Memories and choices break and tide as you scramble for hold on the rocky cliff face. Dragonmont in the dark is a behemoth beast, a screech or two breaking like lightning crackles, or the familiar drum beat of wings before the silence consumes once more. The stench of fire, of beasts and carcasses helps cloak the darkened night.

"Udligon ñuha brōzagon, Answer my call," you hiss into fraudulent emptiness, hands gripping rocky edges until your blood beads, "you fucking lizards."

"Have you gone mad!?"Aegon shouted, trying to pace with your run to the dragonpit.

A rocky laugh broke out from your being, not deigning that with a reply. Aegon huffed angrily.

"Alright, tell me this then. How are you so sure I'm not just about to put you on a bleeding volcano to die? We claim your dragon in the morn, sister. First thing before we break our fast. I'm sure by then, Vermithor or—"

You whipped your head around, pulling halt. "I leave tonight to claim my dragon. Whether it is you and Sunfyre who gets me there, or Aemond and Vhagar, is no matter to me. I will claim one tonight. It is up to you to decide now if we tell Aemond or not."

Aemond, whose anger is wounded tight, the barest excuse for war always at the edge of his hum. The misstep at Storm's End had cost him everything. Had cost your mother everything. Queen still, Alicent Hightower had bent the knee and offered her life in exchange for mercy. Before Rhaenyra passed judgement, Viserys I had passed.

It didn't matter that you had ensured a higher dosage from the Harrenhal witch in his usual milk of the poppy. Your spiders moving with ease through the silent channels you had established long before your own flowering.

The Red Keep had scrambled, the Heir with it. It was enough time for Lucerys to have come out of the red, confirmed to live through the worst of it without as much as a broken bone. Arrax however, had been badly maimed, and would no longer take flight. But he and his rider would live. Aemond would live. Alicent would have her son. Rhaenyea will have hers, and the crown.

Kevan had done his duty unto you while you settled the storms in Dragonstone. You rewarded him handsomely.

Aegon sighed. He too, would like your honour avenged, but not for the sake of war. "As you wish, sister. I hope you know what you're doing and I am not about to send you to your death."

Just like what you did to your mother, you reached forward and cupped his face. If before, your touch stills his heart and floods his cavities with warmth, a flash of fear strikes the twin son at the eerie smile on your face.

"Skoros morghot vestri? What do we say to the god of death?"

Aegon blinked. "Tubī daor. Not today."

You smiled. "Trust me, sweet Aeg. It is not my death the Stranger will take. Not until the fjords of the North are at my mercy."

"Iksan kesīr sir naejot māzigon ñuha sikagon pakto! I am here now to claim my birth right!" Your scream echoes and falls, repeating back to you. There is a hum, like an electric current that sizzles and pops inside your blood and marrow, and you scramble higher and higher on the rock. Your blood does not sing for the dragon lairs, but above. Up and up, jagged edges cut your skin and dress, the wind whipping with sea mist, but nothing, no one, can clamour you as you reach the peak.

At first you see nothing but darkness and hollow sounds. But you let your eyes adjust, a hiss breaking out of your dry lips as you stumble. You look down. What you first thought were rocks and wayward bones of cattle is bigger.

Whale? No.

Dragon. Dragon bone.

You look and will every sense that your eyes do not. The smell that is drowned— iron. Bones bigger than a person. Than cows and whales. Bones of fearsome beasts. Darkness moves, taking form, more than shadow. Scales hewn rough and jagged, as if stone themselves. Midnight black moving with the gentlest of sighs.

As soon as you realise what— or who — is in front of you, the eyes open with an intelligent gleam. Your heart jolts at the emerald irises that gaze back at you, slitting at the appearance of a human.

'The stench of death follows him', the voice of an old keeper hums into your ear. You no longer remember who told this to you, but the words ring true in your memory. 'Scales of midnight, as if hewn from darkness and death. A harbinger, your grace, an omen of the darkest nightmares.'

"Rytsas. Hello." You smile, ever sweet, ever charming.

This is a thread you had never felt before. Not one of your own making, but something older. A golden thread that led the eyes of Daenys the Dreamer. That spun the ties of Aegon the Conqueror. The voices that herded your madness had gone quiet in the mad rush to get here, but now their presence thickens. Words you cannot hear, nor understand, flood the silence as dragon met rider for the first time.

Keepers and historians have called him he, but every bone in your body tells you that the being before you is a she.

And wouldn't that make sense? A cannibalistic being is a woman?

She opens her maw, only ever slightly, smoke and fire crackling out of it. Molten lava in the belly of her insides tease the cool, night air and warms you.

Her version of a smile. Hello, she seem to say.

"Māzīs. Come," you say, giggling. "Dohaerās. Serve."

That night, you took your first flight.

That night, the Cannibal took her first flight with her first— and only — rider as well.

❝ . . . It is said that the formerly named "The Cannibal" had been entranced by the hunger of his new— first and evermore — rider. Prince Aegon the Elder who had escorted his twin sister that very night with Sunfyre, had looked up in alarm and fright to a maddened screech. Excitement and laughter pouring out from the newly bonded Dragon and Rider had soon turned fear into awe.

Gaelithox, she had been named as they had ridden until dawn broke by the rider who loved her 'till the end of their days, was said to have seen a mirror in Her Grace. The fathomless hunger for blood and organ from the same bodies of their kin. For Gaelithox ever hungers and satisfies for the same meat as her, at the height of her grief and ire that fuelled the Queen Consort to climb Dragonmont by hand, she too hungered for the throats of her traitorous blood.

Gaelithox will only have one rider in her whole life, as she found no same twin soul as akin in the Bastard Eater Queen. Their bond moved as if two bodies beheld one soul.

She shied from humans, and oft found too rough with other dragons. Vhagar was an exception, oft seen acting as an elder sister to the Queen's dragon when neither royal rode them and played in the skies. Smaller dragons were forbidden to approach her however, nor was she allowed in the dragonpit after almost devouring the flightless Arrax.

She died two moons after the Queen's death, delivering her final flames for her rider and would never more breathe her infamous green flames akin to Wildfire, ordered by the Crowned Heir, Princess Daenera Velaryon. It is said that the princess attempted to bond with the cannibalistic dragon but it refused.

The dragon spent her last moons in heartbreak, oft seen in Dragonstone and the Red Keep, circling her rider's most favourite places. Her final resting place is at the very top of Dragonmont from whence the Queen claimed her. It is said that the Queen's crown, the one the King Jacaerys had gifted her after the birth of their first sons, the Princes Laenor and Gaemon, is said to be placed there, as well as a portion of her ashes.

It is said that the King and the Queen's twin brother, the Prince Aegon, personally made the trek in remembrance.

It is widely suspected that Aelyx, Princess Daella's dragon, the youngest child of the King and Queen, may have been Gaelithox's only existing hatchling for he too is made of rough, midnight scales. The dragon that bred with her remains to be unknown. ❞

—Maestre Kevan Noratz, Volume X of The Life and Lies of the Emerald Flame, passage chapter under 'The Time of Hunger: Gaelithox'.

You leave Gaelithox to a mournful goodbye on Dragonstone, pressing your forehead against her hard, scaly head, promising to come back, of exchanging her diet for fat, juicy whales, for more wind-whipped rides, before riding back on Sunfyre with Aegon. The younger dragon would not rise from the beaches in fear of the cannibalistic elder, but you made ensuring promises to teach Gaelithox not to chew your dearest brother's dragon.

You had gone most of your life without the feeling of a bond beneath you, warm and alive and wild, and the roar and stench that though new, felt so familiar in your ribcage— you will fly again. And with your brothers beside you. With Helaena and her lovely Dreamfyre.

To think they had taken this from you too, to placate them. To play into their hands like a mewling kitten.

No more.

It is paces before fast is about to break when you both touch back down to Kings Landing. The Keep busying with its occupants, servants and maids bolstering with quickened feet to ensure the lords and royals are awakened with full, poached meals, dresses and coats readied for their lords and ladies, a new, glorious day under the Reign of the Black Queen.

"What now?" Aegon asks, trying to keep with your pace but he is fatigued, failing to stop his yawns. The excitement of last night had come upon him like a fog, and he is missing his bed. Hells, he is missing the bed he stays with his wife if it meant he would get a full night's sleep in the hours of the day.

"Now, we speak nothing of what happened."

He turns to you, frowning. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." You beam, nodding in favour of soldiers and maids who bow in reverence to the Crown Princess. You know you smell of dragon and night, and you need a bath. And to talk to Dyanna before you seek your daughters. "I will need time and people. The board must still be set for me to perfectly execute what I have in store."

"Alright." He yawns again. "I'll be in my quarters, passed out, if you need me. Please do not need me until sup."

You laugh breathlessly, grabbing his hand and giving it a wet kiss. "I will give you your rest, be assured. Kirimvose, dōna lēkia, Thank you, sweet brother."

The words are simple, said in a quiet murmur heavy with love and meaning. Aegon presses a loving kiss to your head, unable to stop himself winding an arm around you.

"Syt ao, va moriot, ñuha prūmia. For you, always, my heart."

As you break to each other's chambers— his, to sleep, you, already meeting Yna and requesting for a bath — you don't notice the lurker that watched the intimate moment between twins, humming in amusement before it moves to follow you.

Back in your quarters— your marriage quarters as Jacaerys had requested that you forgo having your own, not wishing to part with you — the maids are already busying themselves airing the room, moving to follow your usual routine. The only thing breaking it is the tub now in the centre.

"Thank you," you say to Yna as she picks out the pins from your hair, shrugging off your dress in the process as soon as the maids had untangled the lace behind you.

"Call for Dyanna," you tell them as they bow and leave, the door clicking softly behind them. Plans must be made. Bath for now.

With the world stifled for a second, left with only you and your thoughts, you plunge your body under too-hot water, sighing  against the aches and pains in your body. Dragon-riding is a new endeavour to your muscles, and though enjoyable, was still too new.

You sigh as tears fall from your eyes, blinking exhaustedly against soft, humming daylight. You had always known that love, as it is, is a maiden's folly. A foolish, hapless play meant to fool young girls into thinking the world is kind; a pretty place.

It was an even farther thought from you, a princess of the realm. At a young age, it has been drilled to you that your womb is a rare commodity. Your body has never been your own, a piece meant to be moved in a bigger game that you are used for, not play.

You weren't stupid.

If there's a few things Otto Hightower had ever granted you, apart from gifting you his keen prowess in moving power beneath your fingertips, in hungering for more, for better— it is understanding what each person is, who they can be, how you can move them. A flatter, a flair, a push. As a man, there is much to be desired about your grandsire; he used people, used family to pursue power, but you can't truly fault him for that as you were the same.

You just took better care of the people under your wing.

And for Jace, you had banished him.

The worst part, you knew there was a good, fat chance you would care for the princeling. He was a kind man, a sweet man, and with a guiding hand, you could forge yourself the best husband for yourself as much as you can mould a great king and a wonderful father. Women's hands are ever carved to mould and prod men. We stand behind, a presence or a hand, an echo of power.

But your Jace had surpassed it all, and in the moons leading up to your present day, to giving him his heirs, two beautiful daughters, the promised full Valyrian colouring in the silver hair in Daenera, your eldest, the wide, violet gaze in Aemma— the name of his mother's mother, a request of him that you had kindly, graciously fucking agreed to — of course there is a part of you, the girlish, tender heart that you long thought you had buried to get here, would fall for the brown-eyed, wondrous man.

You sink deeper into the tub, sighing as you let yourself unravel—

When you feel it. A presence in your room. It's soft. Silent. Not a lot would feel as such, but as paranoid as you are, as you keep your spiders clean and pretty with your dewy-eyed webs— you know better.

Your mind runs with ideas on who it might be, and come to a few people. No true name rises. The Red Keep is flooded with spies and traitors. You test your luck, sitting up on the tub, raising an arm over the lip of it and flicking water with your fingertips.

"If you are here to kill me, I'm afraid it will be a lost cause."

He laughs, sardonic and edged and familiar, jetting a tingle down your spine.

Well. There's getting a calm bath.

"Perceptive as always, niece," he says, heavy footfalls approaching now that he has been caught. "I'm just here to say hello."

You raise your eyes, mouth curled but unsmiling at the man who acts as the biggest thorn to your plots. Daemon Targaryen has never fallen through your webs, on guard against your flatter, your push, or your flair. Of course, taking the position of his daughter might have forever burnt that road, but you would think he'd ease up just a little bit when his wife, the Queen, had warmed to you considerably.

Unlike your mother, you had never been hostile to your bitch of an elder sister. Just like your plots for Aegon and Jacaerys, and nodding along to thread your father had started but abandoned, foolishly thinking the realm would follow without him fully ensuring your sister's claim to the throne— you carefully maintained a polite farce with Rhaenyra.

Ultimately, this became a boon to you, as she had responded positively to your abrupt marriage to her son, even reminding her deranged guard dog of their own marriage. The cream to your lemon cake had been when you birthed Aemma, the Queen's most favourite grandchild thus far. When she was a babe, Rhaenyra was never far; almost, always holding your daughter, cooing at her cheeks, remarking her likeness to her namesake with pure fondness.

But Daemon Targaryen knew, in the deepness of his marrow, that there is something wrong with you.

"Hello," you answer primly. He laughs, leaning against the passage to your open balcony. "We could have had this elating greeting at fast, if you wish to break it with me and my own."

He scoffs, unable to hide his disdain at the thought. It breaks his stare of your naked visage. Men. "I would rather jump to the fighting pits, good daughter."

"How rude. Is that all?" You meet his gaze steadily, tilting your head. "If it is not obvious yet, good father, I am bathing."

An amused smirk. "I can see that." Lecherous fucking geezer. "No matter. I just have a... curious thought, a wonder I suspect you may be able to answer. See. Truly odd it is, for the keepers to alert me this morning that Sunfyre had taken a ride past the Hour of Owl." Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you do your best to keep your expression mildly irritated. "Not with one, drunken rider, but with another. It had taken them hours, only coming back when morning had already presented in the air."

He steps forward, slow, menacing, until he reaches the edge of your tub and crouches. Your gazes are still unmatched in height, defiant as yours might be.

"The distinct smell wafts them, a Keeper said, and one suspects that though one dragon left last night, two might have come back this morning for he had seen another fly away." His fingers dips into the water, swirling the steam without breaking eye contact. "I wonder if you know anything about it, darling niece of mine."

The mocking emphasis is not lost on you. If the Queen is the Realm's Delight, you were Darling of the Realm. A sweet, merry girl, the secondborn daughter of Viserys I who frequently fought for the plight of the small folk, who gathered friends of all kinds of lords and ladies no matter the standing of their houses to her own, visiting far lands and charming every person in any room. Who made any feast brighter, always sparkling, always the darling.

Less of a dragon, more of a fairytale.

You sit up, leaning, baring your breasts completely to him as you pull yourself up on the ledge he is crouched from. He leans back, only slightly, as you smile demurely. Sweet. Tart. On the edge of pulling his head and hitting it against the copper tub.

"I am unsure of what you suspect, or is accusing me of, kepus, uncle," you purr and there's a twitch in his mouth, a widen in his irises— men are so fucking simple — "I had been feeling down last night, as my husband, as you know, is beyond my reach at the moment as he rallies alliances for the good of the realm. My brother had simply offered to take me out riding, trying to quell my loneliness with an excitable flight I had never been afforded."

You tilt your head. "Even if there had been a dragon binded to my own, why why would I not regale the realm with news of my success? I have longed for a dragon of my own, but alas, I have not quite succeeded where most of the family have." You pout. His eyes flicker. "Mayhaps I am more Hightower than I am Targaryen."

A huff leaves his lips, the amusement in his smile arching to his dark, dark gaze. Before you can react, his hand had comes forward to hold your chin in a tight grip, your jaw aching soon enough at the fingers that dig against your skin, wanting to bruise, to break.

Though a tremble passes your body, you keep his stare, gritting your teeth as the pad of his thumb brushes your lips. Moments and desires thrum between a charged hatred.

The lust is twisted from wanting to fuck you to wanting to kill you. The line is not simple. Maybe that is your fate together.

But he can't. You are well too ingrained in his family now, loved by the people he cared about. You are untouchable. For now. This is a warning, waiting for you to stutter, to show your hand. Any show of your true intentions... he is more than happy to swing Dark Sister across your throat.

He releases you without another word, standing up and leaving through the front door, the door clicking shut.

You sink back into the bath, letting the water engulf you.

Your daughters are moons apart in birth, and there are only a few differences between them that people oft remarked they could be twins. Daenera is taller, spindly. Built like Aemond when he was younger. Her hair is spun moon and eyes of mullish blue. It reminds you of Daeron's eyes. You had named Daenera yourself, a gruelling birth that took the entire night. You promised Jacaerys he could name the second. He had chosen Aemma for a girl, Laenor for a boy.

Not a few moons later, you were with child again. Your husband pinked at the cheeks at the chiding from his family. When she cried into the afternoon sun—Aemma was born mid day, during a council meeting — he pain did not stop the laugh that came out of your mouth from the horrified expression from the Master of Coin as your water broke.

Aemma had a sweetheart face, cheeks much fatter than her older sister's, with a yellowish tinge to her hair, curlier too, reminding you of Aegon. And Aemma laughed more, her deep, violet eyes always half closed as she exploded in giggles and bright, sunshine happiness.

Sons they might not be, but you had given heirs for the throne. And for them, you would do anything to keep their futures intact. Bond with a dragon, face the Rogue Prince, upheave Winterfell. Anything.

You flounce to the nursery where you know the two would be, smiling sweetly at every person you pass as they bow in reverence. Most wore sights of confusion, their greedy eyes and wagging tongues drinking in the deep, emerald glisten of your gown.

It's an old dress, one you keep in the corner of your collection. It isn't as if you had forgo the colours of your mother's house, but playing court meant every movement, even the clothes you wear, can be meaningful. And since your marriage, your Jace liked you in Velaryon colours.

"A goddess come to bless," he gasped against your collarbone, keeping your legs high on his waist as he rutted into you before his teeth sunk on your skin. As newlyweds go, there is not a lot of teasing to be had for your husband to curl against you in a darkened alcove. Merely wearing his favourite colour on your skin has him panting like a dog. His favourite dress is a seafoam blue that dragged longer against the ground in a soft, almost-gossamer material with a silver belt.

Enticing him never took long, but you enjoyed the dance presented. You enjoyed the dark hunger that filled him until he grabbed you to take you because he just had to take you.

The fresh wound slices deeper as you imagine all the things Jacaerys is doing to the so called Sara Snow. The emerald green of your gown shimmers with your anger.

"Fucking bastards," you can't help but say aloud, nodding at the guards posted on the nursery as you hear the squeals of your daughter and the calm, even voice of your brother.

"Muña! Mother!" Aemma squeals, untangling herself from being pressed against Aegon's side as the children— Daenera and Jaehaera — cuddle around him, before running to you. Helaena is on the floor, entertaining baby Maelor. Your mother, hands twisting against her own, stands vigil by the window, staring far ahead.

You catch your secondborn, giggling as you pressed kiss after kiss on her face.

"I see everyone has started without me. Where is Jaehaerys?"

"You were late, sodjisto, aunt," Jaehaera grins gummily. Jahaera is only a year older than Daenera. Your daughters, five and a half and five respectively. "Jaehaerys is with kepus, uncle. They are training."

"Smart girl." You meet your brother's gaze, whose eyes had notably been staring at your dress, mouth turned down. "Why don't you three play with Helaena? I shall speak about Name Day gifts for your Uncle Joffrey for a bit, hm?"

As Aemma shrieks something about cakes, and Daenera dutifully kissing your cheek in greeting before she takes Jaehaera's hand, you turn to your brother and mother.

"Aemond?" you ask softly, keeping your voice out of earshot. Alicent shakes her head. You nod. "Good. We don't want him inciting a war before I have mine properly planned."

As the Dowager draws in a sharp inhale, Aegon grabs your hands, the worry pulled taunt in his eyebrows. "Are you seriously contemplating war, sister? Isn't there a better way to punish them?"

"What punishment does a man regale in?" you hiss, stepping close to him. "Or the Queen's heir for the bloody matter? When Aemond nearly killed Lucerys, and he confronted me as if I had ordered Vhagar to tear through his brother, I thought I had put to bed any doubts in our marriage. It seems that men stray, regardless. My daughters may be his heir now, but what is to say that bastard wildling he's found himself cock deep in produces a son? Will he shame me with a mistress? Or will he shame me with a second wife?"

Your mother's lips tightens, her fingers paling at how tight she is gripping her nerves.

"Bastard or not, if he takes her to wife, I will be nothing. Make that babe a son, and the realm will rally for it. Daenera is his heir. My daughters will not be forgone. I will not be pushed aside. This is mercy, brother," you say softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "My last one. It requires time, moons, to unfurl. It requires seeding doubt and unfathomable inadequacy. Better if Aemond is none the wiser, Helaena the same. But I will need both of you for this to work. It is the only time I will ever ask. For me. For my daughters."

"And you will punish Winterfell with a war?" your mother asks, frown pulled deep. "That is the plan?"

"I will not. I won't do such a thing so blatant, mother, you know me better than that. But this is my last mercy, and it will be the last. For the next time he offends me so, I do not care if Rhaenyra feeds me to Syrax. I will put a dagger through his heart, heir or not."

The Prince Jacaerys comes back not a week later. Though he comes back to the same castle with the same occupants— your shiny new threads gleam. The stage has been set, a play ready to act. You had sent more spiders in the North, keeping a close eye to every blasphemy your husband has been enjoying in the absence of his duties, and as the rage in you quietly grew with each new whisper, your determination hardens.

You mark each indescretion. You keep a tally.

You count for each fall your blow will land on him.

Vermax lands with a screech and a heavy thump, your husband leaping off him with a grin on his face, matching the one you own, waving your arm joyously with Aemma in your arm and Daenera beside you, holding to your skirt as she grinned at her father.

Aemma wiggles under your hold, and you let Jace get close enough before you set her down, laughing, "Okay, okay!" Her laughter carries through as she scrambles like a bull to her father. A squeal peals out of her as Jace picks her up just in time and tosses her in the air.

"Want to meet kepa, father, sweet girl?" you whisper to Daenera, running a hand down her hair before she nods, breaking out into her own sprint, hugging her father as he greets them with laughter and kisses.

You let them have their time, and this, at least, eases your heart truthfully. A kind reminder that Jace adores his daughters.

You stay at the edge of the entrance, your too-wide grin softens into a smile. You were dramatic, nothing new about that, but even in the pale, pearl blue of your dress in silky, Myrish lace, the emeralds in your heavy, golden belt winks. Green ribbons twisted in your hair alongside fresh flowers. When the trio of your family treks toward you, silver-haired babes clinging to your dark haired prince, you serve a wink at the girls and they untangle themselves from their father while you stepped forward.

A choreographed dance, not giving him time to think. To pause.

Every step is calculated, every item on your body— the silk, the small seahorse that locks your dress behind you, the tint on your lips to the oil in your hair and body — is made to perform. You engulf him in you as if you want to suffocate his senses, your arms wrapping around him with sweet kisses pressing on his face, his neck.

Most in the dragonpit looked away, others, scandalously amazed and enchanted, watch as the princess is undeniably enthralled with her lord husband.

His laughter rumbles across his body, infecting your own, smelling of dragonback and crisp winds. You wonder if your nose is more heightened, you would be able to smell his whore in him, but you don't. It's just him. Your Jace.

Your body moulds against his as his arms tightens around you. When you lean back, you sweetly press a chaste kiss on his lips, grinning.

"What is this?" he huffs a laugh, meeting your doeful gaze. Your fingers curl around his chin, his cheek, idly tapping and touching as if you are committing so much newness to memory.

"Kostagon iā ābrazȳrys daor jaelagon zirȳla valzȳrys? Can a wife not want her husband?" you ask softly, pressing a few more kisses before sucking the last one just under his ear. His body shudders. You hide your smirk. "Skori ēza issare qrīdrughagon tolī bōsa? When he has been away too long?"

A yearning look tints your gaze from under your lashes, and you have to stifle the winning smirk as guilt pinches his face.

"My apologies, my wife. I did not mean to be away from you for long. From the girls." As his eyes flick to his daughters, your mask momentarily sharpens into clear distaste. The urge to dig your fingers into his eyes until he is bleeding and screaming under you is one you tamper with great distress.

Did not mean...

Did not mean to have a dalliance with another woman?

Did not mean to fall into bed with a fucking bastard, you insidious cunt, while I await here with your heirs?

Your anger thrums, nestled deep in your heart, it breathes. You school your face the moment he turns back to you, bringing your hands to his lips, kissing each finger with reverent tenderness. His brown eyes smoulder, rubbing your bare— irises widening — back.

"If you wish it, I can be on my knees for my apologies, my princess."

Your mouth curls. "I'm afraid that might have to be quite later, my prince."

"Huh?"

"The Dowager Queen hoped to congratulate you on your successful campaigning. Reaching as far as the North so frequently, we planned a feast for your return." Eyes shinning, you cup his face. You hope the guilt eats him raw from the inside out. Like worms. Like termites. Hungry, hungry, hungry. "We have never been more proud of you, I have never been more proud of you."

You laugh brightly, ignoring the way he squeezed you just a bit harder that mere second the same time his eyes tightened. "The moment I told the girls of it, they had begged to dance with you." Then you bit your lip, frowning slightly. "I... I understand if you are tired, 'tis a long journey after all, I did try to tell them you might want to rest, we can sneak you—"

"No, no, my heart, of course I would be happy to, I— I want nothing more." He brings you close, face disappearing into your neck. "Thank you. I love you."

You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. "As I love you."

For the rest of the feast, you dance just at the edges of his fingertips, ensuring that you permeated his sights and senses despite it. A game. A dance. When he thanks revelries who congratulate him, who ask him of his adventures, you proudly stand beside him, dutiful as the wife that you are, spearing him with compliments as much as you can. Hands squeezing his arm, your oils swallowing him with your smell.

When dinner came, you take chances massaging his thigh, sliding a salacious grin that had him blushing, ever so sweet, green— making you wonder what kind of fucking bastards do that he finds your attention so swallowing.

You don't let up.

Whenever he, in turn made a move, you sidestep, flutter a smirk, a wink; always escaping, letting him grow frustrated as the night went on.

Your one respite from taunting him had been when he danced with his daughters, making a gallant show of asking them, even Jaehaera. Giggles and spins, the ladies of the court fawn and coo.

Even now, you're making him to be the perfect man. The endearing husband, the wondrous father, the brilliant prince, the perfect lord.

To execute your plan, it must be made with a surgical precision. A slice that guts him to his knees, that breaks his spirit and quenches the whispering, wicked madness nestling with your ire. On another cheek, he must remain upright and upstanding, as to keep your daughters' future in perfect order.

You catch the domineering gaze of Daemon Targaryen, idle as he is, on the side of his distracted Queen, talking to a highborn lady. You don't look away as you toast him your cup of Arbour Red before you pucker your lips for a taste. Your eyes move to where your husband is already looking, flushed red and sweaty from all the dancing, your girls, preening and giggling around him.

You tilt your chin at him, a challenge in your gaze, before you slowly pull your lips away from your wine, stained red.

His throat bobs.

It will be a long, arduous game. Full of pitfalls and tightened webbing. One trip can kill you. But once the machinations are in order, once everything and everyone is in their proper places... oh, you cannot wait for the dance the dragons will make.

A flutter, a simpered footstep. Then a rustle of a dress as one bows.

"My lady," Dyanna greets behind you.

"Hm?"

"The spiders in the ice have met the pup in the snow."

"And?"

"The pup is not suspicious, in fact, they might go as far as to say that the pup is lonely. Though others largely understand her existence... no one likes a bastard."

You snort. "No, they don't, do they?"

"The wolf cares for the pup though, and is largely protective of his only sister."

"Hm. Complicated, but not impossible. Have Meera change the tone of my missive. A softer edge. Sweet but not overtly. Ensure the prerogative of politeness. Then have it sent to the Rookery. The proper channels."

You sigh, taking the edge of your braid and twisting through the ribbons your maid tangled between them. Tonight, you had elected Targaryen colours. A black dress akin to scales and a low, exposed back and dipping front, held together in red ribbons and silver chains. One that might be too on the nose, but the constant, feverish stares from your husband made it worth it.

"We have to ensure a good relationship with the Warden of the North, don't you think so?" You have not looked away from your husband since your maid came, and as he whispered something in Daenera's ear, nodding off to her grandmother with Aemma towed, he turned towards you, one stride after another.

"Precisely what I thought, milady."

"Go," you order her for the last time, giving her your cup, just before Jacaerys reaches you.

Game, set.

Worshipping you has always been something Jace excelled at. At the least, his cock was much larger than most, and without the preparation of his tongue and mouth, it burned. At most, he oft found himself holding your shaking thighs, your head and shoulders left on the bed as he feasted on you like a man starved, hungered for your nectar, the sounds you make, and the shaking of your body as you reached your peak on his tongue.

"J-Jace, please, I—" Your breath stutters, a hiccup escaping your mouth, but he is not letting up. On his knees as only a lordling can with his back straight, he is holding your thighs, your lower back, eating your cunny for the third time of the night.

As soon as he had reached you, he grasped your waist, whispering against your hair in a rumbled groan, "You are torturing me so, my wife. We leave. Now."

"Now?" you echoed, amused. "This is a feast in your honour."

"My honour is already hanging by a thread. The revelry will go on without us. I want to have my fill of you."

And fill he had. He didn't even wait to get you out of your dress before he had pushed your skirt upward, gone on his knees, and got his tongue inside of you.

Now, you are overwhelmed, overstimulated as you are hazy, gripping the wrecked sheets as your peak reached you once more. A strangled, breathy cry of his name falls between your lips as your back arched impossibly so, and instead of letting up, this seemed to fuel him harder, the muscle of his mouth working harder inside of your cunt, hands digging into your flesh to keep you steady.

It builds with a stimulation unending, and just as you're on the throes of your last high, it builds again, quick and fast this time, shuddering gasps of, "o-oh gods, g-gods, Jace!" is the last thing you are able to shout before your fourth peak breaks against the shudders of your last one, your wetness exploding, and you start crying before he lets up.

Your blubber becomes laughter, and he is soft as he lies you down, massaging your thighs as you twitched. He hovers above you, running gentle hands across your arms, kneading through skin, before he reaches your face. He's still in most of his clothes, his long white shirt and breeches, but his mouth is covered in your wetness before he wipes it, obscene in the prettiness of his face and messy locks from where you had tugged and grabbed.

He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, so close to your body, all too tangled in your soul, and can feel his hard cock upright and wanting against your belly, but he pays it no mind. Concern mars his features as he brushes down your hair.

"Are you alright, my love? Too much?"

You shake your head, brushing your hand down his chest. "N-no, I am well. I just never did that before."

He smiles, kissing your closed eyelids before he brings you close to his chest, cuddling you deep. "You deserve all the pleasure I can give you," he says against your hair. "I have been gone far too long. Consider it my apology."

You hum, eyes open. "Apology for what? You were doing your duty, nothing more, ñuha zaldrīzes, my dragon." You feel him stiffen as you keep your voice soft, caring. "I understand duty far better than you. It is what I love most about you."

You look up, taking his chin between your fingertips as you stared at those warm, brown eyes. "You, who carries your honour like a shield and your duty like a sword. I feel as if the gods had blessed me a husband far better than I should have had for I know I do not deserve you."

"H-how can you say that? You are—" He swallows. "— You are the most excellent woman. The mother of my children. You... You are the one I do not deserve."

Your head falls back against his chest, gripping his shirt. Only by your teeth had you stop yourself from screaming.

You curdle, you keep, you poise.

"My love?"

But you pay him no mind, pushing him on his back as you straddle him, your hands working quick to unlace his breeches until his cock slaps against his stomach, end red and swollen. A sharp hiss falls from his lips as your hand tugs on it once. Twice.

He calls your name, spits it really, eyes blown with lust as he holds your waist, unsure if he should lift you off him or grind you against his aching cock.

"I want you inside me," you whimper, plead, feeling his cock twitch at your words, your false, yearning gaze. He mistakes the burned tears of anger in your eyes as unbridled want. "I have gone so long without your warmth, your cock, swelling inside me, your seed nestling deep, taking root—"

"Yes," he gasps, fingers digging into your doughy sides, pulling you up, moving you around whilst you grabbed his length and directed inside your wet, hot cunt inch by inch, filling you so thickly you can feel him in your throat. It takes time, patience and grit, but you're wet enough and you're determined. Once he's fully inside of you through a choked moan of your own, his neck arches, head thrown back. "Fuck! Yes, y-yes, there you are, my g-good fucking girl."

You move slow at first, taking him, bracing one hand on his knee, almost testing the feel him of back in the familiar contours of your cunt. Veins pop between each groan and choke that shudders through him whilst praise, your name, the possessive titles— my love, my wife, my princess — is spit in between.

When the heat tightens in your belly, you shift positions, placing both palms on his chest, and riding him without abandon, bouncing up and down as you watch with a sharp eye as his release builds. His hips move on their own, fucking up in you as you meet his thrusts with equal vigour, and it's delicious. It's heated. You grind your swollen folds against his mon and your cries make him thrust up harder into you, calling your name, denting your doughy hips.

You don't stop, your pleasure at the back of your mind, wanting him to unravel, to break— a final cry of your name dissolving into a choked moan, spilling his seed deep inside, the continuous snap of his hips digging it deeper into your womb.

But your last peak is still tightening, so you press a quick kiss on his chest, a bite really, before you continue to chase your own high, a hiss slipping his lips but moving your hips with his iron-grip, stutters of, "d-do it, reach your high, f-fuck! fuck!"— Your head throws back, nails digging his skin as your cunt clenches his cock in a vice grip, forcing his hips to snap up once more, twice, until you fall, slumping against him.

When he kisses the top of your head, murmuring words you ignore, you close your eyes.

Your plan is in motion. The missive will be sent to the Lord Stark, in pursuit of an innocent friendship. The spiders you have placed on the Northern bastard are set, and a dragon flies in Dragonstone with your bond in its blood.

Your Jace is home. He will fall in love with you all over again. His wonderful daughters and darling princess, he will regret the events that have transpired in the cold. In his head, he will make promises to do better, to be better, that whatever happened is a blip. A mistake that will not happen again. but you know, he will trip. He will wander once more.

But you will make sure that the next time he does so, he will regret it for the rest of his days.

Because it is not you who will burn Winterfell to the ground.

It will be him.

Your plan moves, your web is perfect.

Now, the spider waits for the idiot fucking flies to feed on.

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Jace + fearing for his mother's life House of the Dragon | 2.04 "The Red Dragon and the Gold"

Ten Minutes

modern!Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

The sound of jacaerys' alarm disturbed the quiet that had settled in over the night. His hand shot out of the blanket and grabbed his phone, turning off the alarm.

Jace glanced at the corner of the screen. 5:50 a.m. In ten minutes he'll have to wake you up so you both could get ready for the day.

He let out a small sigh and shut his phone off before placing it back on the nightstand.

Jace rolled over so that he was laying on his side, facing your back. Thankfully his alarmed hadn't woken you up. He reached out and wrapped a hand around your waist. Jacaerys gently pulled your back to his chest and leaned forward to press his nose to your head, breathing you in.

Ten more minutes and he'll have to wake you up. Ten minutes spent with you.

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Rhaenyra Targaryen Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Aegon ii Targaryen Masterlist

Miscellaneous:

One-Shots

Hands on Me (Benjicot Blackwood x Reader x Aeron Bracken)

Drabbles

Ten Minutes (Jacaerys Velaryon x reader)

Incorrect Quotes

House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes

House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes 2

pode fazer icons de hotd?

愛 house of the dragon icons

Me when asoiaf siblings

After so much heartbreak and angst on House of the Dragon (with much more to come). I just want some head canons that make me smile.

Here is one I have been holding on to for a while:

Daemon is an incredibly overprotective father but not for any of his blood kids. He is not worried about Rhaena or Baela, they are Laena’s daughters it is more likely that they choose their love interest and they will most likely call all the shots.

In contrast Daemon is incredibly worried about Jace, Luke, and even Joff. They are all so pretty and charming. They take after Rhaenyra so much, and while he loves Rhaenyra he knows what she got up to when she was young. He also knows that what happened between him and Rhaenyra when she was young is not something he would want happening to his boys. He absolutely doesn’t want some roguish man coming in and kissing his boys in brothels offering to take them as their spouse.

Daemon has never felt more stressed when his family meets Viserys’ Hightower brats and he sees the way they look at his boys. He has multiple heart attacks when he sees the one eyed brat (Aemond) and the drunk lecher (Aegon) make eyes at his sweet stepsons. He very much wants to take Aemond’s other eye for the way he is looking at Luke and punch Aegon in the mouth for the way he is smirking at Jace. He can’t deal with this he is going to lock his stepsons up on Dragonstone until they are 50 or until the Hightower brats die whichever comes first.

Daemon has never felt like such a hypocrite. He swears that Viserys has somehow orchestrated all of this to get back at him for the brothel incident ….. and possibly the wedding incident too. At least Daeron is away in Old Town away from Joffrey……… Until Viserys brings him back to the Red Keel to torture his brother. King Viserys has so few amusements and seeing Daemon slowly go bald from seeing these roguish princes of the realm try to seduce his children is the best gift he has ever received. He can die happy now knowing Daemon’s karma has come at last.