Necklace

IF WE NEED MORE FROM YAN MOM RHAENYRA, PLEASE.

❝ 🐉— lady l: I need it too, anon T-T so I made this little hc of her, it was short but I hope you, my dear readers, like it!! Forgive me for any mistakes. <3

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, overprotection, implied murder, unhealthy platonic relationship.

Rhaenyra never really wanted to be a mother and she always made that clear whenever someone brought up the subject of marriage and children, however she knew it was inevitable but as long as she could postpone these events she would. She just didn't expect to get pregnant from what should have been just one night of lust between two people who now hate each other. But one good thing came out of that night and that was you. She lost something that night but gained something she was sure she could never lose.

Although she was apprehensive during the pregnancy, Rhaenyra decided not to interrupt it, even though she knew full well who her real father was. She never told anyone the truth and it was better that way. She didn't think she would really be happy with a child in her arms until you were born. And Rhaenyra could finally understand why they talked so much that she would never love anyone the way she would love her own child.

When your mother was finally able to hold you in her arms, Rhaenyra felt inexplicable things. Happiness, euphoria, love and maybe possessiveness. She grinned from ear to ear, not caring about your cries, she was much more focused on how she felt. She watched you with tears in her eyes, she really felt happy to have you. Something she was sure she wouldn't do, but she was and she wasn't going to let anything happen to her precious baby.

Rhaenyra wants to be the best mother possible for you, she has done everything you ask and more. She would do anything for her baby because she just wants to see you happy. It's a fact that she would kill and die for you if need be, Rhaenyra would defy even the Seven to protect you. It is her duty to take care of you, after all, she is your mother. Everyone knows how much she cares and loves you deeply and possessively but no one dares say a word about it because they don't want to take her fury.

She is a very proud mother of her baby and anything you do, no matter how small, Rhaenyra will be applauding you with fervor and a look full of pride. It's pretty obvious from everyone's eyes who her favorite child is, although she loves all her other children, you are the one she pays the most attention to and the one she dedicates the most to. You are the one she spoils the most, Rhaenyra is always gifting you, with no special occasion, she loves to dress you up too regardless of your gender, she wants to be there to take care of you always. Your mother will bathe you in jewels and silks, all the best for her baby.

Rhaenyra is extremely possessive of you, she gets jealous very easily if someone spends too much time with her baby. It's not hard to notice when she's jealous, her hateful expression towards whoever has your attention already says a lot for her. She wants your attention for her, your mother wants you to stay glued to her at all times, even though it's completely irrational, she doesn't care. She was the one who gave you life, so it's only fair that you always stay with her. Rhaenyra can and will be annoyed and irritated if anyone spends too much time with you, no matter who it is, she is possessive of her baby and always will be. You are hers, you were born from her and will always belong to your mother.

She is overprotective and combined to her temper and possessiveness can become overwhelming to deal with. Rhaenyra is very concerned about your safety at all times, but her heart rate increases when you ride your dragon. She knows it's natural, you're a Targaryen and it's in your blood, but she still doesn't like it. And if you get hurt badly? If you fall off your dragon? Or what if it hurts you? There are so many possibilities and danger that make her anxious all the time. If it were your mother's choice, you'd be glued to her side like a doll, but she knows you can't do that, so she tries her best to dissuade you from activities that could endanger your life. Rhaenyra knows she can't protect you forever, but as long as she lives, she's sure to do it.

Rhaenyra Targaryen tries to be a good mother as much as possible, and in a way, she is. She wants nothing but happiness for her baby, but she is selfish and she wants that happiness to come true only if she is by your side. You are her baby, the child she loves so much and defends tooth and nail from everyone, if she needed to jump in front of a dragon to save you she would do it without thinking twice but at the same time she will lock you in a tower for you to continue by her side. She goes from 80 to 180 really fast in her obsession with you, there are no qualms when her baby is involved. Rhaenyra does anything for you and all she wants in return is you by her side always, like a beloved child should be with it's mother. She wants only the best for you, and because of that, she feels that no man or woman is good enough for you and they will never be, in her eyes. You don't need anyone but her, right? You will always need her, she will make sure of that, just like she will always need you. After all, Rhaenyra is her mother and mothers should never be separated from their children.

''You are the most precious thing I have ever had in my entire existence and that's why I cannot let you go.''

I feel like Ser Criston would be very offended to know how highly Senya thinks of Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin and he’ll resort to outlandish plots to become the favorite haha

(canon senya barely knows anything about ser harwin so im going to answer this in the context of senya as alicent and viserys child au)

oh senya loves ser harwin! she loves her sister so much! senys spends so much time away from her brothers and with jace (because jace makes her feel warm and safe! just like her sister <3) that she is always around ser harwin.

he's always carrying her and calling her "little princess" fondly and it makes her giggle, she proudly proclaims to anyone who listens that ser harwin is her favorite knight! and ser criston takes that personally.

of course, senya loves ser criston too, alicent is extremely attached to senya so it's only natural that she sees ser criston often but she doesn't like the look he gives her eldest sister so she's less close to him than ser harwin.

criston takes it so personally that he waits until senya is there and watching and then he eggs harwin into beating him up just to prove to senya that ser harwin is nothing more than a brute.

it has the opposite effect, senya is much more concerned about ser harwin, she's never seen him so angry before! she cowers behind her mother and whispers "is ser harwin alright? he's so upset! he's never upset!"

alicent is so angry that they're upsetting her precious child. rhaenyra has a maid bright senya to her to say goodbye before harwin leaves.

"you're leaving...?" senya looks up at him with teary eyes, clutching a bundle of flowers in her hands. "I... I'll miss you too much! my favorite knight can't leave!" she insists, small hands clutching at his clothes.

"goodbyes aren't forever, little princess. I'll return and i will send letters, won't that be fun?" he asks, trying to cheer her up.

"yes, won't it be fun, sweet sister?" rhaenyra, presses her hand on senya's shoulder softly as she sniffles and buries her face in ser harwin's clothes.

"I... i was going to save these flowers for jace! but you can have them! so you can remember me!" senya insists, happy that ser harwin takes the flowers.

she's said to see him go and she lets rhaenyra hug her softly as she affectionately leans into her sister.

rumors later said that ser harwin died clutching onto a bundle of flowers. hearing that, senya wept in her mother's embrace.

Imagine you are Aemond and Helaena’s daughter.

Warnings: none; fluff all the way; alternative universe where… uh, Rhaenyra and Aegon are actually married and there is no civil war.

***

• Stage One: To Be a Toddler.

You are actually a merry child. One so vivid and full of joy, prompted to mischief. Unusually early, you like to go after your father. In one of these days, you are brought to Vhagar.

“Always restless, my dear Y/N”, says he when lifting you up and holding you on his arms. Aemond smiles in his own way at you, his lingering good eye admiring your chubby faces and wondering how could he have made a child so pure. When you smile back, he melts down completely. “One wonders why.”

“Vhagar”, you say lazily, still smiling.

Aemond chuckles quietly. He ruffles your long silver hair, lingering in his touch on your cheek and pinching it lightly.

“Vhagar, really? You really liked that old hag, didn’t you?”

The one eyed prince does not think there is a more adorable sound than when you burst into childish giggles.

“I love Vhagar. Daddy, she’s so big and… and…”, you grown, hating to forget the word you’ve learned recently.

Seeing how much you aim to please him, Aemond is patient.

“It’s a word uncle Aegon taught me!”, you try to justify yourself.

Aemond’s smile is quickly wiped out of his face. He furrows his eyebrows.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You need not to beg, papa. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The prince chuckles, but you can tell he’s worried by the look on his face.

“Come now, what did dear uncle Aegon teach you, Y/N?”

“Weeeeell…”

“Y/N…”

You know you should not test longer. Aemond really hopes there is nothing to be anxious about, though.

“He said Vhagar is gross!”, you quickly put both of your chubby hands over your mouth and your eyes go wide. There’s a mix of amusement, mischief and concern altogether as you wait for some snap.

But Aemond is rarely snippy with you. The prince laughs quietly instead, his shoulders relaxing.

“If she is gross, why do you like her?”

Suddenly the prince remembers Helaena, when she loved bugs and other… bugs at a young age. The memory makes him smile fondly.

“Because she is legendary”, you explain as-a-matter-of-factly. “Besides, gross is not necessarily a bad thing. Can we fly now daddy? Pleeeeeease?”

He’s starstruck by your precocious wit. As he agrees to do what you requested, he remembers nostalgically how you came to this world.

***

Helaena always followed Aemond when they were younglings. Somehow the taste for books and studies set the two of them even closer. Before Aemond lost an eye, he came to discover that his dear sister had visions of some kind.

“It is a trait that comes from our ancestors. Magic comes with a price”, she told him then.

“What can I do to relief your burden, Helaena?”

It was when she touched his hand for the very first time. Aemond could recollect how right it felt when their fingers intertwined, hands awkwardly moulded. Sentiments that escaped the common scope looked obvious.

“Your friendship is sufficient, my dear Aem.”

But in due time it proved to be insufficient. Helaena was welcomed in Aemond’s chambers when she had nightmares. These consolations led to discoveries… which resulted in an early pregnancy.

Helaena was no more than six and ten summers; Aemond, five and ten, when you were conceived. Quickly, they married.

And just as quickly they moved to Summerhall.

***

When Aemond takes you to fly Vhagar, the one eyed prince notices you’ve been quiet. He takes a quick look wondering if you’ve fallen asleep, but he’s surprised by how attentive you are.

Y/N has inherited some of me, I see it now. Laena likes to say Y/N has her beauty, but my iron.

As he smiles at the recollection, Aemond asks you:

“What is my dear daughter thinking of?”

“I want to reclaim my dragon, daddy.”

Aemond sighs. Again, he is remembered of Helaena’s vision.

It came actually two months after you were born. His wife was struggling to sleep and this was a sign she was disturbed by something.

“What is it, my love? What is troubling you?”

“I cannot be sure what it is”, she sounded anguished as she took his hand and Aemond tried to remain calm. Helaena had to take her time when visions shook her. “Y/N carries the spirit of our house. She will not be like any other. I cannot be sure what it is. But she must be let to follow her path and reclaim a dragon herself.”

“I assumed she’d sleep with an egg”, it was all Aemond could tell.

“No.”

“You make it sound bad.”

“I do not wish to make her a queen, Aemond. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.”

“A queen?”

But seeing Helaena would say nothing more, Aemond calmed his restlessness and held her close. He knew she needed him by her side, not any of his inquiries.

“We will do the best we can do to raise our little princess. I promise you.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“I love you, Aemond Targaryen. I could have not chosen a better man to be the father of my children.”

And that was also the day she conceived their second child, a boy nine moons later born, named Maegor.

Back to the moment, Aemond clears his throat and says:

“All in due time, daughter. You must bear patience. Methinks Vhagar would be jealous if she knew you want a dragon for yourself.”

It’s enough to take your mind off the matter. And as if to confirm Aemond’s remark, the old dragon turns her head and gives you a look. You swear she buffed too.

“Oh no, Vhagar! Don’t be jealous! I love you and you’ll always be my favourite!”

That strangely seemed to calm the old hag and Aemond looks pleased it all ended well.

*

Helaena is welcoming her sister Rhaenyra and her family when she spots you running around the castle with six year old Jacaerys. The oldest son of Aegon and his wife is the heir to King Viserys’s throne after Aegon’s own rise to the throne. He is a handsome and very smart young man who seems to have taken a like of you.

“You stare at them”, muses Aemond, who silently puts himself beside his wife. He knows when these visions come and go. But not only that, he is acutely aware how welcoming the whole family party—which will soon be joined by the king and the queen—can be too much for her. “Is there something I should worry about?”

“No”, Helaena gives Aemond a small, but confident smile. She touches his arm discreetly, not too firm nor too weak. It’s a good vision, he understands. “He will make her happy.”

Aemond doesn’t like the idea of seeing you married too soon. Noticing this, she chuckles.

“My husband, you do not expect me to believe that Y/N is going to be a toddler for all her life, do you?”

He sighs, but does not answer. His good eye holds back a shadow of sadness as he sees you running after the curly haired Jacaerys.

***

• Stage Two: To Be A Child.

You have just recently celebrated your ninth name day. Aemond is keeping an eye on you as you are at the beach with a small group of friends, all of whom are your cousins: Jacaerys, Lucerys, Visenya and Baela. They are all talking about dragons.

A topic that, Aemond knows, can be somewhat sensitive to you—and this gives him some shivers. He remembers how his own cousins, Rhaegar and Baelor, sons of Lord Daemon and Lady Laena, mocked him because he didn’t reclaim any dragon. It costed him an eye. And he prayed nothing the same would occur to you.

Aemond is trying not to look very anxious when it’s Helaena who comes for his aid. She had excused from her sister’s adorable company to join her husband’s abrupt exile under the excuse of watching over the children.

But she knows what really troubles him.

“She is not like you. And they are not like them.”

Aemond limits to side eye at his wife.

“Is she…?”

“No.”

“But then…”

Helaena sighs.

“She is your daughter, she has some stubborn traits that you are to blame for”, she smiles. “Give them a chance. They are the next generation.”

“You let her too loose”.

“And you hold her too tight. This is not the way. Believe me, my dear. She will be fine.”

*

A third child came and suddenly your family is one of three. After Maekar, a boy named Jaehaerys has joined Summerhall.

“You must give me a companion, mama”, you pout. Today you are having an embroidery lesson with her. “It is not very fair when Maegor has a companion and I don’t.”

Helaena gives you a loving glance.

“Our family is growing big indeed.” And then she looks fondly at your father.

When you follow her gaze, you smile to yourself. You do sigh over at how devoted Helaena and Aemond are to each other.

This afternoon, Aemond is spending some time with his boys. Maegor being the oldest is trying to show off his best traits to his father, who doesn’t hesitate in appreciating his efforts.

Since it is raining outside, the family gathering is occurring just as fine until Maegor comes to tease you.

“Did you know, dear sister, that my dragon egg has hatched?”

Aemond is rocking baby Jaehaerys when he notices Maegor is not around.

“What about it?”, you pretend to find sewing interesting.

“It’s beautiful, really. It has blue scales.” And then the inevitable happens. “Soon it will grow and I’ll fly with it next to Vhagar. You’ll be left behind and no one will remember you.”

“SHUT UP, YOU STUPID FOOL!”

And to a general surprise, you stand up and slap his face hard. Aemond quickly comes at you, partially shocked—and secretly amused, since he’s been watching the scene from afar—but you escape everyone’s possible snort in tears.

“Maegor”, Helaena sighs as she tends her crying boy. “You shouldn’t have teased your sister.”

Aemond and his wife exchange looks. It’s very fitting that he, after reluctantly giving away his baby to a maid, goes to you.

Unsurprisingly, you are found pacing towards the yard. But something stops you from going out, despite the riot that so violently came upon your chest: it is the sound of those steps you are so familiar with.

“Now now dear Y/Nickname. What has come to fall upon my little princess?”

You run to your father, who is on his knees expecting you to do so. Whenever you felt distressed by something, this was how he welcomed you. Indeed it is a safe haven for you and Aemond knows it.

He sees so much in you and part of him blames himself for sharing this old wound with you.

This shouldn’t be it, Y/N. You’ll never know how I lament this to be it.

“Sing me that song, please.”

Aemond smiles at you. It’s a secret he shares with you. Whilst indeed Daeron is the one more apt to this function, once upon a time Aemond discovered that, thanks to you, singing old poems calmed your fears.

Whatever it takes to make my princess safe.

Choosing a song named Ode to Visenya, here father and daughter forget that time is passing and with it, all that childhood means… at the same time that he proves to be a better father than his own ever were where his infancy was concerned.

After a moment, you two are outdoors, at the yard, watching rain fall.

“You shouldn’t have slapped your brother, Y/N.”

You swear Aemond is smiling, but you don’t take your chances to bet on it.

“I cannot say I regret standing up for me. If I do not do so, then who will?”

So much like her father. Aemond looks at you, a hint of pride in his good eye making you smile and lean against him.

“Regardless, child. You are a princess, you must know when it is time to wage wars.”

“Does this mean I can be taught sword lessons when I grow up?”

Aemond looks at you for a moment. He should ask his wife first, but how can he deny you anything? His first child, his only daughter.

“Will you behave?”

“Yes, I promise! I promise I shall not slap the thwart…”

“He’s still your brother, Y/N”, Aemond scowls at you.

“Sorry. But I promise, yes.”

“Then I will teach you myself.”

Aemond swears he’s never seen such a bright face before. The light in your eyes almost makes this iron prince get to tears.

“I love you, daddy.” You say as you hug him tight.

….

“I love you too, my dear girl.”

*

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you are coming to tell me you are teaching our only girl to practice with sword”, says Helaena in such a casual tone that Aemond believes there should be an accusation where in truth there is none.

“And are you?”

With the children asleep, the two are settling their own nest. Aemond is thankful for this moment, where privacy is finally unbroken.

“She is a princess, Aemond”, Helaena gives her husband an amused glance, as if she knows things he doesn’t. “Mother would be horrified if she knew.”

“Thankfully, she is too occupied with her business in King’s Landing to be meddling in how we raise our children”, says Aemond, still somewhat resented that his mother is as absent now as she was before.

Helaena comes by his side and gently touches his face, making him look at her. As she does so, the princess removes his eyepatch and leans to kiss his forehead.

“She loves us in her own way”, then she melts in his embrace.

Aemond presses a kiss over her forehead, holding her tight. They stay like this for a while until the prince asks:

“What will be of our dear Y/N?”

Helaena looks up at him with amusement glinting in her lilac gaze. She smiles when she points it out:

“Y/N is really your favourite, isn’t she? Please be careful about it, or our sons will be jealous. Well, her future is not something that will get us preoccupied.”

That night, Aemond Targaryen slept a lot better.

*

You are visiting your aunt Rhaenyra and your uncle at Dragonstone again when you are told that there is a red dragon located at the dragon’s pit.

“Really?”, you ask Jacaerys. “How’d you know?”

“Father says that the old dragons like it there better. It’s like home for them, which makes sense considering their history.”

“Hum”, you say.

“You’re not considering going there, are you? No one has tamed Vermithor for decades since King Jaehaerys died”, Jacaerys gives you a concerned look.

But you do not give away your bold side just yet. You smile and dismiss his concerns by assuring him that you won’t do such a thing. In the meantime you two are speaking, here we follow to the adults conversation.

Sitting in the higher table are Rhaenyra and her husband, as well as Aemond and Helaena. They are expecting to welcome King Viserys and Queen Helaena with their youngest son Daeron in the next day.

“I have news to share”, says a mischievous Rhaenyra after a while.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t drank your wine, dear sister”, Helaena giggles quietly. “One wonders why.”

“Good Gods”, Aemond raises his eyebrows at Aegon. “Who knew this would come too far?”

“You ruined the news like always, Aemond”, says Aegon, amused. “But in truth.. aye, few would say an arranging as this would blossom to something good and provide to be a right decision.”

“Talk about it. How many children came of it?”, Aemond could not help himself, chuckling as he is elbowed by his wife.

“Aemond”, she snaps at him. “Don’t be mean.”

“Hardly mean, sister”, interferes Rhaenyra amused. “The children are good. And speaking of them…”

“Jacaerys is very fond of Y/N”, muses Aegon. “We’d think he and Visenya were pairing well, but Visenya prefers Lucerys whilst Baela has rather been good friends with Maegor.”

Aemond notices how Helaena suddenly appears more pompous. This time he’s the one who quietens. Marriage is not his expertise field and as he notices the group of children playing, he cannot foresee them married. Or maybe he’s just being protective.

Indeed as it seems, Maegor and Baela are getting along just fine: the former reads and the latter listens. A sight that actually leaves a good impression on Aemond, who had his own doubts about Maegor’s interest in studies.

He keeps an eye at the maid who’s holding baby Jaehaerys before noticing you, Visenya, Jacaerys and Lucerys discussing… dragons. Again. This time Aemond narrows his eyes, waiting for some strange burst or abrupt humor swift. He side smirks to himself at your composed self, but in fact the prince detects some familiar determination that honestly…. He isn’t sure if he wants to find out the reason behind it.

“Aemond”, Helaena summons him impatiently. “The children are doing good, thank you. May you be more considerate in this matter? What do you think?”

Murmuring an apology, Aemond doesn’t shy away of what he’s asked of. But Helaena knows the difficulty in doing so. However, the princess is certain that a merry path is underway. All they must do now is sow the seeds.

In the meantime their future is planned, you are found playing with your cousins.

“I have a dream of flying with Silverwing to Winterfell”, says Jaehaerys. “Much like our forefathers did.”

“You’ve claimed Silverwing?”, you cannot help admiring. “How bold!”

“I was not allowed to mount Vermithor for a strange reason. But alas Silverwing is such a good girl”, Jaehaerys smiles warmly.

“Silverwing was matched to Vermithor”, Visenya meddled, somewhat maliciously.

You cast her cousin a long gaze, but opt to remain quiet. Seeing you don’t buy the bait, or at least it is what Visenya assumes, topics are changed. But little they know what you are to do this evening.

*

“Y/N looks restless”, Aemond muses as he lies next to Helaena.

The princess is mute for a moment. She turns to face her husband.

“It is her moment, Aemond.”

“She is claiming her dragon”, but the prince doesn’t take it well. It’s up to Helaena to tell him what she has seen your future so far.

“Look, there is something you must know about Y/N…”

*

You walk barefoot the moment your feet reach the sand. Under moonlight you opt to trace your steps to Vermithor cave through an unknown—or rather an unusual—path that few are familiar with.

It’s risky. You know. Part of you wonders if this is right, but if Jacaerys has claimed Silverwing… You blush. Pairing the dragons together has only been done once and it was done so by your great-grandparents Jaehaerys I & Alysanne.

But you want to prove your parents that you are not delicate as they see you. In the end… you want to be seen as bold as your cousins, as Targaryen as any of them.

Here you are. Holding a torch to light your way, you enter unprotected through it. The great red-ish winged being opens its eyes and stares at you, distrusted.

A loud groan echoes through the cave, and the sound may as well be mistaken to an earthquake. But you do not quake in fear, despite looking paralyzed as the large old dragon comes at you as if you are ready to be burnt.

It’s when death comes so close that you lift your chin and tell Vermithor:

“I am my father’s daughter and I will claim you, Vermithor.”

The dragon spits fire as if to defy you. You escape barely of losing your life, but you proceed—even if your body shakes and your conscience questions your audacity.

“LIKYRI, VERMITHOR! DOHAERAS!”

A little girl. Nine moons and counting. Giving such a command to a dragon almost as old as time. It could end very bad.

But it does not. Vermithor doesn’t spit fire. It bows towards you.

And you smile proudly.

“Like my father. We are in this together, Vermithor.”

As poets later say, like father like daughter.

And this is not the ending, it is just the beginning.

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Requested by Anon

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Request: Anonymous asked: "I know that you’re bedridden but I came to bother you." Rhaenyra x sister reader please

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You sat up as the door to your bedroom opened. Rhaenyra in her nightgown, followed by her nervous handmaiden let themselves in.

“I know that you’re bedridden but I came to bother you.” Rhaenyra said with a smile. She had a large familiar book of stories under one arm, a jug and two cups balanced in the other hand, the cups clamped under her arm against her side. She threw herself down on the heavily cushioned seat that had a permanent place beside your bed. The cushions were own and thin from the many visitors that came to wish the poor dragon princess well.

“I find it a relief that you are not the maester.” You said honestly. Rhaenyra gestured at the small table between your bed and her seat. The foods set out from dinner, that you refused to touch, were cleared away and replaced with foods your sister knew you favoured.

You still believe that they make you sick?” Rhaenyra asked as she poured you a drink from the jug she had brought with her. Taking it gratefully you drank deeply before answering.

“I have noticed that when I begin to feel better they fetch a specific medicine that had me ill again.” you said quietly. Rhaenyra nodded as she opened the book she had brought with her. 

“Perhaps I shall stay here then. Refuse to leave you!” She said boldly. You laughed and accepted a plate of food from the handmaiden. “We could ask for you to… to rest at Dragonstone.” 

“I have tried that. Last time I was getting better. Father started spending a lot of time with me and let Lyonel Strong take over leading the council.” You muttered. Rhaenyra looked up from the book, she’d been thumbing through looking for the story she knew you liked that was in the first quarter of the book. 

“Every time you get better Father does spend a lot of time with you… Do you think they keep you sick to keep him focused?” Rhaenyra asked you seriously. 

“I do not know.” You admitted. She gave you a sympathetic smile and leaned over to hold your hand.

“Corlys and Rhaenys arrive in a few days for the tourney. Perhaps they will agree to take you to Driftmark. We could say the sea air helps you to feel better.” Rhaenyra offered. You smiled appreciatively. 

“I asked for that before. Corlys offered and assured Father that Laena would be my loyal companion. The maesters wouldn’t allow it.” You muttered. Rhaenyra scoffed and shook her head.

“I shall speak to father. We shall ask Corlys and Rhaenys. Their Maesters will see what they think they should do and we shall see what the maesters at the Keep are up to.” Rhaenyra said quickly. She gave you a smile and a determined nod before reaching to refill your now-empty cup. You could see her mind turning over her ideas and plans as she finally found the page she was looking for and settled in to read aloud.

Tag list:

@the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn @geekyandgay98 @savagemickey03 @evattude @kaitieskidmore1 @sabrinasstar @darklyndivinely

Notes on The Favorite

summary: a little more insight into the relationships princess reader holds with her family (when ur circle small but all yall crazy). (links: part 1 /part 2/part 3)

cw: platonic!yan, allusions to religion, cheating, open relationships, mentions of pregnancy, crazy is running through this family like the tomb raider, baela and jace saw you from across the bar and liked your vibe

notes: everyone in this family is like save me princess reader princess reader save me

Helaena is often regarded as simple but she knows her family well. She is well aware of her mother’s preference for you but she doesn’t mind. At least it isn’t Aegon. You’re actually kind to her, she knows her words sometimes go over your head but you listen patiently with a smile. And though her children love her, it is sometimes overwhelming to care for them so you often offer to mind them for her while she has some time alone. Helaena doesn’t just enjoy being alone, she requires it and ever since she’s been wed it seems as though it is forbidden for her to simply be alone. She appreciates you for simply knowing what lines to tread lightly across, for never making her have to reject you and your touch. She’s more willing to accept your touch, it feels careful, intended for her rather than for yourself. It feels truthful to your heart.

When you were pregnant with your third child, she gave you an emerald beetle brooch and she embroidered a cap for the baby with little lady bugs. She seemed to be enamored with the child even before her birth, in a way she hadn’t been with her own children. It made her smile to rub your belly and speak to her niece. “Did you know that a beetle’s shell shines many colors under the sun? Sometimes even I cannot be certain which is true. It can only be supposed for some time, at least. It is much like our fate…to be pulled into different lights, made to show the colors others want to see,” she murmured as she felt the kicks of your daughter in your womb. Her words sent a shiver down your spine. Although Helaena was the sibling whose company you’d now enjoyed the most, it was sometimes a bit eerie to be with her when she was in such a state of preoccupation. Even so, you were glad she seemed so interested in her little niece. She was better with your children than her own, it wasn’t her fault, it was just that sometimes it was difficult to see her own children. To know that their sorrows, their little lives were hers was frightening, it was too confronting.

It was easier to look to you. Alicent had always held you as an example for her and even though she had long since given up thinking her eldest daughter would learn to behave like you, Helaena had never stopped wanting to emulate the way you navigated the world. Even though you were the little sister, you had an ease about you that never came to her. Such a thing as being a princess came easily to you, she had understood the difference between you two from day one. When anxiety rattled her system as she carried her first child, she looked to you and thought that if her little sister could be well even married to Aegon, even after giving him a son, she would too. She had been relieved that you had married first, to give her some direction, your mother was really no example in her case.

Once when you two were small, she had woken from a dream and went to your chambers but as she stood outside the door, she heard your mother’s voice and paused. She felt an indelible urge to eavesdrop though she never had before, she wanted to witness this moment, one stolen between her mother and sister. One she was not meant to be part of. She eased the door open slightly to peer in. She had not broken the moment. You two were at the vanity, Alicent behind you, brushing your hair gently, cooing such flattery. Helaena had thought to envy you but truly, she wished to be so close to you as your mother was. She wished to soothe you as your elder sister and say the right things to make you smile instead of leaning on you so heavily. That moment made her feel so ashamed of sneaking off to your bedroom to curl her body around yours for comfort from her horrid dreams. How small you were next to your mother, how young you behaved. Was she forcing you to grow up just for her sake?

You and Aemond seemed years older than her, from her point of view. She was only just coming to understand what she’d already seen before. She was just coming to understand the world and how her cryptic dreams fit into it. She had only been vaguely troubled by her dreams before, only so much so that listening to her baby sister breathe would soothe her back into sleep. She was wrong to be so calm then, even so, she felt wrong to be so overly anxious now. She didn’t know what to feel. Sometimes she was like a newborn, red all over and crying from the rush of sensation all at once. She turned to Aemond for protection, to you for guidance. You were her only template, when she felt the fear rising up in her, she need only turn to you and mimic as best she could.

In contrast, Aemond was a little guard dog for your sake. What Criston was to his mother, he’d be for you, he’d long ago decided. When your egg hatched and his didn’t, he was humiliated. Before you, he only wished to appear strong and capable and he’d even been undermined by Aegon’s egg hatching, the sibling he deemed least worthy. How were you to take him seriously? How were you to believe he could protect you from Aegon— from anyone? Part of the reason he was so desperate to claim a dragon was to show off to you. To appeal to you. Back when he thought he’d marry you, he had even thought doing so would make you think more of him as your future husband. Obviously, it hadn’t happened that way and Aemond was silently crushed. Yet another bitter reminder that the order in which Aegon and himself had been born superseded everything else.

Something strange began to happen inside his mind as soon as you were wed to Aegon, it was as though you became a lady from a song. You were out of reach, permanently, you’d become his brother’s queen. More than flesh, you were now almost mythical to him and more than that, dealt a tragic fate and needing of protection as your mother had been. A saint-like figure for him to ground himself in all his violent, envious thoughts on. Keeping his sword for you made him feel better than he was, it turned his yearning for bloodshed into something like honor. For any drop of blood spilled in your name had to be the highest will of the Warrior. Someday, the realm would tell your name in stories alongside his. He would be remembered as the knight who so loved his sister, so protected her that he became a standard of devotion and love. You were like your mother in purer form, devoid of her violence, of her envy, of her malice and sadness. He longed to protect that version of you. He longed for you to look to him as your protector. It would be something, at least. If he was always fated to covet his brother’s bride, it would do nicely for you to save a place in your heart for him.

Criston was as much of a father to you as he could be without risking too much. Indeed, he was the perfect father for you, one that would not disturb you and your mother. He could spare you kind words, a story or two, his arm when you rose from your seat tipsy on wine after a feast. In private, when you were in your mother’s chambers, he’d tolerate all sorts of silly behavior from you with infinite patience that he lacked with others. He was not just slack about caring what you did, he simply enjoyed you too much to be upset at you even when you had a bit of fun at his expense. You enjoyed unearthing his unbridled care for you by pretending to be hurt, even more so because no matter how many times you did it, he always believed you. Even when he got upset at you for pretending to fall or cut yourself on something and pouted, he was just as susceptible to falling for it again simply because if there was half the chance you were hurt, it was worth looking foolish.

Criston was easy to fluster, it was cute of him. Fun was in short supply in your life and you appreciated him allowing you to make a fool of him every now and again. He understood what you meant to Alicent and that in and of itself required him to care for you more but he himself harbored a certain care for you as well which was separate from her. He was overprotective of you, in a way that could come across as condescending were it not from his lips; “Princess, I beg you not run, you must walk carefully and be careful not to hurt yourself.” When you were pregnant with Aemon, it was; “Princess, I beg you not exert yourself, I wish that you would call on me when I am needed,” when all you were doing was walking down the stairs, “Princess, it is unwise to eat as little as you do,” when all you had done was say you weren’t hungry after spoiling your dinner with sweets. When you were little it was him scolding Aemond for taking you by the arm and tugging you about the keep to go play. “My prince,” he’d said sternly, stepping in front of the two of you. “The princess is but small, I do not believe my prince wishes to see her harmed. You must not handle her so roughly.” Most recently, it was; “My princess, I beg you not to move with so much vigor while with child, you must preserve your health as best you can.” Gods bless his heart.

For Jace, his love for you seemed primordial, the touchstone of his life. His memory of you went back further than his memory of realizing he was different. He gravitated toward you even as the years went by, unable to simply forget what it was like to just be children together. If ever there were anything to make him feel as though he wanted to stay in the keep, it was you. Before your eyes, he’d show no insecurity, admit no uncertainty as to his place. In doing so, he feared he would lose you. As long as he held himself as a prince, perhaps he would be worthy to wed his aunt, the princess. Your affirmation of him was something that held him together even in the face of the most egregious mistreatment. Even as whispers caught on the wind, he kept his mind trained on you, on the first time you ever admitted — alone in the dragonpit, that you wished to wed him and be his queen. He would have you for his queen, he decided long ago. He had not forgotten. And he had oft thought of what would become of whichever man your mother tried to foist you off on.

All men endeavor to find their gods on earth, Jace was no different— except that instead of finding them in service to greater purpose, he found divinity through serving you. He dreamt of having the strength to reach out and truly take in hand what he had wanted all along. You were dreamy, in love with the songs of brave knights, ever anxious, ever seeking a perfect love and protection that none of your potential suitors would ever give to you. He was born to be that gallant knight for your sake, to take up his sword and anoint himself to you. You were as the living embodiment of a fertility goddess to him, a goddess of abundance and pleasure. Some divine will, he thought, brought him to your feet. He would not be convinced that his place was not at your side. Even if you demanded sacrifice as all goddesses do. Let blood be spilled for your sake, if it was the price of a man to seduce a deity. To him, the war between houses would be a holy war, a war of faith. If he could vanquish all the hands that sought to separate you, hurt you, hurt him and his mother; only then he would be worthy. Only then would the pain be turned to virtue.

You once asked him why he was so trusting of you, why he was so willing to give you his complete devotion. He hadn’t known how to answer at the time in a way which would not reveal his madness to you. He had been born with a sword hanging over his head, born with a cross to bear with him from the moment he was conscious of himself but when he was in your presence, a divine fervor came over him. A ritual madness bloomed in his heart that felt to him as he thought kneeling to pray in the sept should. It was only when he saw you that he was reminded that the gods bless even the morbid in their own strange ways. You were the reason he understood why some devout of the faith were called to self flagellate. There was a divinity in pain, too. He found it in his yearning for you.

He participated in a tourney for your name day once, it had left him with a broken rib but he’d fought hard to be able to name you queen of love and beauty. Truthfully, he had not even noticed the near black bruising of his skin until he was out of your sight. And even then, he’d delayed sending for a maester because you’d followed him back to his chambers to look after him. That was where it begun, the crux of your divine affair. The carnal part of it, anyway. In his lap, his armor spattered with blood and a sharp pain singing through his body, you took his face into your forgiving hands and kissed him timidly. His eyes were reverent as they looked up at you. His breath had sped up, desperate, near hyperventilating as you pulled away. He was aching but he was in ecstasy as well. Trying to savor the moment between you two despite his disbelief, his agony and his hunger for more and ever more. That was the way in which he became a man, in his pain, his restraint and his immense pleasure.

Aegon visited brothels and had countless romps with random women even after your marriage but he never saw it as being untrue, at least he tried not to. He only sought whores who reminded him of you. He only sought whores in the first place because he knew well you were a chaste sort of woman, the kind that your mother had expected you to be and to lust after him was not in your nature no matter your love for him which he believed ran deep. Besides that, he was also somewhat aware of the burden of his needs for affection in general. Your mother already scolded him for how he had stolen much of your time away from your children so that you might comfort and reassure him in his weakness. When he stumbled into your chambers drunk and covered in vomit, you peeled off his clothes and bathed him, washing his body so tenderly that it made him hard. Such a touch, such an affection. He did his best not to push his luck and pressure you into bed but how could he resist not stealing your time as he did? How could he resist trying to make his needs greater than that of your children? Still, he at least tried not to do anything to lose your affection completely like treating you as a whore. You were his sister-wife, the things whores that did, exerting themselves trying to keep up with his desires, he understood that it was not the work of a princess. It was not for you to give more of yourself than you already had (though he’d gladly have all of you were it not for his mother’s voice stuck in his head) nor to debase yourself like a peasant girl might for a few coins. So he vented his sexual desires onto ‘lesser women’ who should have no qualms about lowering themselves to his desires. Your mother would surely have had something to say about it if he did keep you in bed as often as he sought to, anyway.

Baela, having seen her betrothed name another woman Queen of Love and Beauty, should have been devastated or otherwise furious. If she were a conventional lady with a conventional lord husband, she surely would be. But she and Jace shared an understanding that was beyond the comprehension of the traditional gentry of Westeros. She had no cause to be possessive of Jace, she had no desire for him to do the same for her. Jace had wanted to be betrothed to you first and Baela was not unaware of this but that was not to say he resented her for what could not be nor that he cared to punish her for not being you. After becoming siblings sharing the burden of their losses, the two shared a love and connection different than that of most betrothed couples, a love hewn in sorrow and in growth— they never restricted each other, never suspected or accused because they had grown parallel to each other in all the years of tragedy after tragedy. They each knew what the other was, what they saw of the world and what they wanted from it. They would not bar each other from pleasure nor from love, not from each other and not from potential others either just so long as the two of them remembered each other as future man and wife. They were the only ones who understood the profound loneliness that had been born inside both of them, the restlessness and the helplessness. They could not deny each other, not when they were each other’s grounding forces in a world that changed so dramatically each moment in tragedy. It had been that way since the day they first joined hands before Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Baela had been seen as a scandalous lady who’d loved many girls and many boys and been free to do so by her father’s leave. Perhaps to the lords of the realm it didn’t make sense that such could be the case while she also loved Jace with all of her heart but the fact remained. Thus, she had been the first to recognize Jace’s feelings for you, he had not hid them from her as she had never hid anything from her. She knew he loved the green princess. She didn’t take that personally, nor was she jealous not even when she grew into a young lady and began to understand what it entailed. After all, she had perhaps a keener eye for women than even he. Perhaps if she’d been close enough to you, she’d have had you around her fingers like she’d been with ladies in the past. She knew from experience that the demure kind such as you were the most delightful on the tongue. The only thing which concerned her was the inherent political risk you carried as Alicent’s precious daughter who went almost nowhere without her— which she made clear to Jace. “If you’re going to fuck her, make sure you’re certain she has loyalty to you— to us,” she’d told him and she was pleased that he’d listened. It wouldn’t do for the Queen to have more reason to insist violence on him. When you gave birth to brown haired children which were obviously Jace’s, it served as proof of how tightly wound everyone was around your little finger, for no one said a word about bastardy. You kept your reputation squeaky clean somehow and that eased Baela’s fears somewhat but still there was the urgency to have you at their side for the certainty of her betrothed’s children, the need to have more certainty of your loyalty that didn’t come from being utterly enamored with Jace’s cock…and even still there was the underlying need to experience you herself. Many a night, Jace had slipped into her chambers and regaled her, as she demanded, with the details of how you tasted and felt to him as his cock pressed up against her clothed cunt in a slow rhythm of strokes and a desperation for the delicious friction that made her clit throb under her small clothes.

It was a delicate balance of caution and desire. She hadn’t minded you having Jace’s children on a personal level, (she cared little for the thought of going to her birthing bed so quickly and likely her children with Jace would be wed to yours) so much as a practical one as it presented an obvious dilemma even with the acceptance of everyone in the keep. The fact that these children were considered Aegon’s posed a great obstacle. She might have faulted Jace for who he chose to fall for but she knew better, life had denied them much comfort, exploration and pleasure. Jace had not denied her curiosities, her tests of pleasures and plays for the love of foolish boys and girls. But she also knew just as well as Jace did that tensions were being built around them all the time and had been since they were but small. She had faith that the opportunity to solve the problem would present itself. Aegon would die, soon or late but probably soon. And then, you’d be taken to wife along with Baela like the conquerers. If they were lucky, his and the rest of the greens’ hubris would do them in without interference, if not…she and Jace were both no stranger to the heft of a sword.

MAKE ME CHOOSE MEME | anon asked - tiaras or headpieces

𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

Daemon targaryen X reader Daughter (Father and daughter relationship)

Word Count:1719

Warning: just daddy issues I guess

You never had the close relationship others might expect between a father and his daughter. The memories of your childhood, especially the first five years of your life, are marked more by the absence of that paternal figure. It was just you and your mother, living a life you knew well, without the presence of a man whose existence you barely imagined.

The first time you saw Daemon Targaryen was when you turned five. You vividly remember a tall man with silver hair and violet eyes, who lifted you into his arms with a mix of curiosity and distance. He took you outside, where an imposing dragon awaited. Although the encounter left you confused, you couldn't help but wonder who this stranger was who suddenly seemed interested in you. You didn’t recognize him as your father until you heard him call you his daughter.

Despite the surprise, there was a spark of excitement in that moment, especially when you descended the skies together. From that visit on, Daemon began to appear more frequently in your life. On one occasion, he arrived with a gift that left you breathless: a dragon egg, in delicate shades of pink and blue, which you held in awe in your small hands.

But life has cruel ways of changing the course of things. The sudden death of your mother marked a turning point. It was then that you were told that your father would now take care of you. You remember clinging to your grandfather’s cloak, tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with him not to let you go with that man who, although your father, still seemed like a stranger.

The cold and gloomy stone walls of Dragonstone never ceased to intimidate you. The imposing statues of dragons carved into every column and wall seemed to watch you with their empty eyes, always managing to scare you. There was no possible comparison between Dragonstone and Runestone, the home in the Vale where you had been raised. There, the air was lighter, the colors more vivid, and the mountains and forests offered a sense of protection that you never felt in this dark fortress.

Daemon, aware of your distress, did everything he could to provide you with comforts. He gave you the finest clothes, feasts that rivaled royal banquets, exquisite toys, and dazzling jewels, all in an attempt to make you feel at home. However, none of those luxuries managed to dispel the sense of loneliness that enveloped you. Each passing day, you felt more distant, more trapped in a place that was not your home and never would be.

You always insisted that Daemon allow you to return to Runestone, to complete your education in the home you so longed for. Every time you mentioned the possibility, his response was the same: "You are a dragon; you must be among dragons." Those words, repeated with a mix of firmness and conviction, seemed like an increasingly untenable excuse. Deep down, you knew you did not share the same lineage as the Targaryens in such a visible way. You did not have the distinctive silver hair or violet eyes that marked the royal family. Even your dragon egg, the symbol of your heritage, remained inert, a silent reminder of the distance between you and them.

The news of his marriage to Laena Velaryon took you by surprise. You had assumed that if he ever decided to settle down, he would do so with one of the dubious women he frequented in the darker corners of King’s Landing. The idea that Daemon, always unpredictable and volatile, would opt for such a strategic and respectable alliance as Laena Velaryon seemed inconceivable.

When your new sisters, Baela and Rhaena, were born, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. The girls were everything you were not: beautiful, with silver hair and an unbreakable bond with the blood of the dragon. Every time you looked at them, the difference between them and you became more evident, like a chasm that kept growing.

It’s not that you hated them, not at all. Laena Velaryon, always kind and affectionate, treated you like one of her own daughters, and the twins looked at you with the same devotion they would a big sister. However, despite all the affection they offered, there was something deep-rooted that kept you separate from the rest, an invisible but unbreakable barrier.

The birth of the twins awakened a paternal side in Daemon that you had seen only distantly before. With Baela and Rhaena, he was attentive and dedicated; he spent hours teaching them High Valyrian, telling them ancestral stories, and making sure each night they were well tucked in before sleep. However, with you, that tenderness and dedication never manifested in the same way. He never came to your room to give you a goodnight kiss or took the time to share with you the secrets of the tongue of his ancestors.

You tried to ignore the void that Daemon’s absence left in your life. Every time you saw him diligently care for Baela and Rhaena, you told yourself that you didn’t need him. You didn’t need his stories, his affection, or his teachings. You had learned to be self-sufficient, to find solace in your own strength. But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel the chill of his indifference.

Laena’s death affected you more than you would have liked to admit. She had been a kind figure, a link that connected you in some way to a family that had always seemed distant. Her passing left a void in Dragonstone that felt like a heavy shadow over everyone. The twins, devastated by the loss of their mother, sought support from you that Daemon no longer seemed capable of providing. You tried to be strong for them, even though sadness also enveloped you.

Daemon, for his part, fell into a silent grief, transformed by the tragedy into an even more distant figure. But just when you thought that sorrow had consumed him completely, he made an announcement that left you stunned: his engagement to Rhaenyra Targaryen. For you, it was yet another of your father’s madnesses, another impulsive decision that defied the norms and expectations of the world around him.

The news filled you with a confusion that quickly turned into indignation. You had barely begun to come to terms with the painful loss of Laena, and now Daemon, in what seemed like an absolute display of insensitivity, announced his intention to marry again, this time to Rhaenyra Targaryen, his niece and the future Queen. You couldn’t help but bitterly think about how quickly he had moved on.

How could he, having just lost his wife, dive so quickly into another engagement? The idea that Daemon, with his unpredictable and defiant nature, would make such a controversial decision at such a delicate time seemed to you like another display of his recklessness. You were surprised that he hadn’t even taken the time to honor Laena’s memory before plunging into what seemed like yet another of his craziness.

The wind whipped at your face, cold and biting, as it often did on Dragonstone. Your hands, numb from the island’s relentless climate, clutched your cloak as you watched Valarr fly in the distance, his pale pink scales glowing softly in the sunset light. The roar of Caraxes, resonant and powerful, made you turn your head. Daemon approached the dragon with a look of anger etched on his face.

Seeing you, he stopped for a moment, clearly surprised. "Y/N," he said, his tone more controlled than his expression suggested. He hadn’t expected to find you there.

Daemon cast you a brief but piercing glance before answering, as if weighing how much he should reveal. "To Harrenhal," he finally said, with a bluntness that only fueled your suspicions.

You were not satisfied. "Does the Queen know?" you insisted, searching his face for any sign that would confirm your fears.

Daemon avoided your gaze, focusing on preparing Caraxes, as if simply ignoring the question could dissipate the growing tension between you. But you were not willing to let it go.

"Was it you, then?" The question slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. "Was it you who ordered the death of Prince Jaehaerys?”

Daemon stared at you, his eyes as dark as a stormy sea. "It was an accident," he replied brusquely.

"How can that be an accident?" you retorted, disbelief and anger mingling in your voice. "I don’t have time for questions," Daemon snapped, his tone sharp and cutting, clearly expecting you to be silent and drop the subject.

Despite his command, you stood firm, crossing your arms and challenging the silence that had settled between you. The tension was palpable, each unspoken word carrying an imposing weight in the air. Daemon watched you, his expression initially hardened, but after a long moment of silence, his eyes revealed a glimmer of something deeper, something he had been hiding. He sighed, resigned. "Y/N, some things are better left as they are. There aren’t always answers you want to hear.”

Your thoughts remained unsatisfied, but before you could respond, Daemon took a step toward you. The unexpected warmth of his hand on your shoulder was a stark contrast to his usual coldness. His demeanor, though still somber, softened with a note of fatigue and concern.

"Take care of your sisters," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "They will need you now more than ever.”

With those words, he leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead, a gesture that, although brief, was surprisingly tender and protective. It was a moment of vulnerability that sharply contrasted with his usual hardness.

Daemon quickly pulled away, his face hardening again as if the act of tenderness had been a slip he could not afford. Without another word, he turned and mounted Caraxes. The dragon soared into the sky with a roar that echoed through the cloudy heavens, taking your father away into the distance, disappearing among the gray clouds of the sunset.

PERIOD DRAMA APPRECIATION WEEK 2024 | Day 3 (July 31st): Favorite Costumes → Wedding Dresses

being the targtower’s youngest sister would include…

pairings: platonic!alicent hightower x daughter!reader, platonic!aegon targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!helaena targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!aemond targaryen x sister!reader

synopsis: what it’s like to be the youngest daughter of the green queen.

includes: reader being the only somewhat normal targtower, i went overboard on aegon’s are we surprised, might be ooc, sorry for how short alicent’s is i wasn’t feeling much inspo for her

a/n: one of my favorite things about alicent’s dynamic with her children is that they all represent a part of her: aegon, being used for politics, helaena, her innocence that she used to have, and aemond, her rage and thirst for power. so i decided to have reader represent alicent’s devotion to her family and her “duty”. hotd is so weird abt character ages so for my sanity aegon is 20, helaena is 18, aemond is 17, and reader is 16 in this. forget daeron pls

Alicent

Alicent has incredibly complicated relationships with her children. They are mirrors of her anguish, but her blood nonetheless. She will protect you and your siblings with her life, if necessary, but she also cannot look you in the eye without a pit of guilt settling in her stomach.

She feels nauseous when Viserys has you betrothed to a Lord from the Crownlands, but apart of her is satisfied with the match, though only because it means you will be allowed to stay in the Red Keep instead of leaving her.

She is just as gentle as she is with Helaena as she is with you. You are one of the only good things that have come from her. She cherishes you. When word of your pregnancy spreads through the Keep, Alicent orders an abundance of maternity gowns for you from Myr. She will always, without fail, offer you a guiding hand when going up large sets of stairs.

By all means, she is not a perfect mother, but she does what she can. She gifts you lots of her own accessories, like the hairnet she wore during Aegon’s second nameday celebration. Helaena is her “dearest love”, and you are her “sweetness.”

Trying to include you in her own private matters is one of the only ways she can spend time with you. She takes you to the Sept with her when she can, though her eyes are always averted from you.

That is one of the other strange things you’ve noticed about your mother; she can never make eye contact with you. Perhaps it is because you are with child just as she was at your age.

When the time comes, she cannot be by your side to hold your hand while you give birth. It’s improper. But she is overjoyed that both you and your son are healthy.

— “You have done well, my sweetness,” Your mother whispers, voice soft and melancholic and warm. Grand Maester Orwyle, bless him, had propped you up on great plush pillows after you’d finished your labors. He’d quietly congratulated you and helped you get comfortable in your bed, then had left you to rest.

She sits on the edge of your mattress, right by your side, thumb gingerly tracing your cheek. The forest green she’s clad in brings out the auburn of her hair. “The babe is a beautiful one. A handsome son for the realm. I am… proud of you.”

Articulating her thoughts has never been her strong point. It is the hour of the owl now. The only sounds you can hear are the padding of raindrops against the tall windows in your chambers and the crackling of the hearth.

“Aegon’s birth came quick for me as well,” She mutters, almost to herself. Peculiarly, she clings to the little ways you are alike to one another; they are fading as the days pass by. Her brows furrow as her mind begins to race.

Your firstborn sons’ births had come with ease. You were both married off far too early in your lives. In girlhood, you had both favored naive stories of brave knights and pretty ladies and romance. You both committed yourself to duty to further the family—

She stops the list she’s making in her head there. Far more resolutely than before, as if putting a wall around herself again, she kisses your forehead and retracts into herself.

“I shall leave you be. Good night.”

Aegon

For Aegon, news of a new sibling is unsurprising. It’s the same old thing to see his mother waddling around the castle, belly swollen. He’s a little indifferent when you’re born.

As a teen, though, Aegon is certainly the type to smack you a bit too hard in the training yard and then shush you, begging for you to hit him just as hard before you wail too loud and one of your mother’s handmaidens hear and alert her of it.

It makes him feel shameful, the first time you see him drunk, stinking of the whores of Flea Bottom and sweat. You promise to not tell anyone of it, if he, in exchange, does not do it again. He still does. You still do not tell.

After the events of Driftmark, you are the one to cut his hair short. Seeing Aemond bloody and bruised had frightened you, caused you to weep in front of the crowd in the great hall, and you’d tearfully asked Aegon if you could sleep in his bed together that night. He forces you to help him trim his waves the next morning as “repayment”, though he did not actually mind it.

You grow closer as you become older. To Aegon, you are the only one who has a semblance of faith in him; your mother was constantly repulsed by him, as was your grandsire and own father. Aemond had given up on him a long, long time ago, and Helaena focused on the children far more.

On his better days, Aegon likes to fly on your dragons together. Seeing you windswept and almost free is strangely satisfying for him; he misses when you both hadn’t been burdened by what your parents had put on you. In the dead of night, he likes to imagine what life would have been like if he hadn’t been forced to marry Helaena, and you your “fat, old husband”, as he put it.

Speaking of, he’d made a great fuss at your wedding. That was the angriest he’d ever saw you; he’d drunk himself half to death at the celebration afterward, made a fool of himself when he got into a fist fight with one of your husband’s brothers. Even the bards had stopped singing to stare at the spectacle. You’d almost lost your voice that night from how loud you’d yelled at him, asking when he’d ever think of anyone but himself, cheeks flushed from deep embarrassment.

“You know of my apprehension when it comes to large events such as these, and yet you cannot steel yourself for one night for my sake? What will you do when Jaehaera is married? Light the castle aflame?”

(You do not know the reason he’d done such a thing was to make such a big scene your consummation ceremony would be an afterthought. That, and the fact he was drunk and angry.)

Some part of him feels guilty when you get pregnant. He knows, deep down, that he had no part in it, and he could not control your fate, no matter if his efforts were weak or strong. But he was still your elder brother, was he not?

One day, while you sit in a rocking chair and he plays with the twins in their nursery, you tell him, “I should like for my son to be like you.” Aegon says, quietly, that yours will be better than he ever was, with you as his mother. He vanishes back into the Street of Silk soon after that.

One of his best qualities is being able to make light of anything, and he does just that after your labors, laughing at how disheveled you are and kissing your forehead. It’s hard not to laugh with him.

Days later, at his coronation, you are the first he looks to for approval, after your mother. The subtle nod you give him makes him wonder how you would’ve reacted if he had been successful in running to Essos. He hopes neither Aemond or Cole told you of what he’d said.

After becoming king, Aegon grows to value your input more and more. On his council, he feels you are the only one to genuinely listen to his concerns and thoughts when it comes to winning the war, and so he ignores the disapproving looks the men around him give him when you come to the meetings.

He does not mention your dragon when discussing battle plans, almost seems to ignore it when Lord Jasper brings you up; your dragon is great and strong, and he knows he will have to utilize you one day, but he refuses to think of it until it’s absolutely necessary. His mind has already been spoiled by what he has seen in brothels and taverns, and he imagines it will only further be by the sights of war. Aegon will do everything he can to avoid what happened to him happening to you.

The assassins Daemon hired infiltrate the Red Keep. They kill his son, leave with his head in a sack. Aegon rages and drinks and rages. He will not allow even you to see his tears, but he cannot stop them from soaking the cloth of your dress when you hug him tenderly, as if afraid he’ll slip through your hands like sand.

Bile floods into his mouth when Otto suggests wheeling his son’s body through the city to secure the approval of the smallfolk. The image of you insisting on going instead of his mother is burned into his brain. “If you will force Helaena, then at least spare Mother and allow me to go,” You’d begged. It does nothing.

As foolish as he can be, Aegon is also not one to forget what others have done for him. You were the only one who’d taken his side against your grandfather. He is glad he was not forced to marry you, glad that he did not force you to a brothel as he did Aemond; he is glad that he has not ruined you.

Aegon’s visits to your child become less and less frequent. He loves the boy dearly, like he’s his own, but he cannot stand to look at him. It’s only a reminder of what happened to his little Jaehaerys.

Rook’s Rest destroys him. He does not even need to tell you that it was Aemond who did it, you just seem to know. There is no way for him to verbalize that he is listening to you while he is in his milk-of-the-poppy induced coma, but he does appreciate the stories you tell him while sitting at his bedside.

He specifically forbids you from looking at him while the Maesters change out his bandages, but he’ll allow you to sit on the other end of his bed with your back to him and hold his unburnt hand while they do so.

— “I feel a monster,” He admits to you one night while you light a candle on the stand next to his bed. You’re clad in a warm nightgown; many whisper that winter is coming, and it’s hard not to notice with how cold the breezes have been lately.

“Why is that?”

“You know why.”

You can’t even fight the scoff that comes from you, and you turn back to him with a frown etched deeply into your face. “You should not. You are king.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “That did not stop our cunt of a brother from burning me like the Conqueror did Harrenhal.”

Huffing, you smooth out your dress, then walk to the other side of the bed and slowly crawl on. You’re careful not to move around too much, so as to not cause him any more injury, and sit next to him, back against the headboard. You bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. His eyes are slightly glossy when they meet yours.

He takes a sharp breath. “…If it had been my decision, I would have named you regent.”

You laugh incredulously at that, shaking your head. “They set aside Mother for Aemond. They would have forced you to do the same.”

Aegon raises his remaining silver brow. “I am not as feeble and weak-minded as Father. I speak truly. It is you I trust the most.”

Helaena

Helaena is perhaps the least expressive out of all of your siblings, but even she felt happy when Mother’s babe had come a girl.

She does genuinely appreciate that you do not judge her and make fun of her behind her back; she has never felt like she has been able to fit in with her ladies-in-waiting.

As mature as she is, Helaena does like to indulge girlishly sometimes; she enjoys matching her gowns with you, as well as hairstyles and (light, so as to not overstimulate her) jewelry.

Observant and introspective, Helaena also has a great memory. If you tell her you’ve had a fascination with direwolves as of late, or have particularly enjoyed reading about Valyrian history, suddenly the dresses she gifts you will subtly be embroidered with subtle little wolf icons or ancient Valyrian imagery. She is very thoughtful.

Unbeknownst to most, she also gives very good advice. There have only been a handful of times her council has not helped you. Wise and empathetic, she is, and she is always willing to listen to you explain your troubles while she plays with one of her bugs.

It pains her to see you inflicted with the same fate as she was; married off to a man you had no love for, forced to be his incubator. Just as it was during Aegon’s coronation, her head is bowed at your wedding. She does not want to look at your doom.

Despite this, she is perhaps the most supportive of you during your pregnancy; she likes suggesting names for the babe as well as crafting him little clothes for him to wear when he is born.

Although you do not understand her prophecies, it does quell her anxieties a bit that you at least listen to them instead of dismissing them like all else do.

When noise gets to be too much for her, you are the first to cover her ears with your hands, guiding her to the lush gardens of the Keep to breathe. You are the only person she has a likeness of boundaries with; when she does not want to be touched, you leave her be. It’s why you are the sibling she is fondest of.

Her hand immediately flies to grasp yours when Meleys erupts from the boards at Aegon’s coronation. The look on her face had confused you. She’d appeared fearful, but simultaneously also put at ease, as if she’d known that this was going to happen.

After Blood and Cheese, she cannot find rest at night. She takes to pacing about the Red Keep, almost looking like a ghost; pale and silver and paranoid. Despite the fact that it distracts you from your own slumber, you insist on her staying in your chambers with you. She still paces, never sleeps. Some nights you even walk with her around the castle.

— “This one will not live,” She blurts out randomly, interrupting you from one of your tangents, confusing you. She never interrupts you, always listens to whatever your qualms are for the day without complaint.

“What?”

You feel like you’re about to burst; partly from the grand lamb you had for your midday meal and from how heavy the babe in your belly feels. She seems surprised that the words had actually come out of her mouth.

She pushes her face closer to the fly she has somehow managed to capture in her palm, a perturbed glint in her eye. “I do not think this one will survive.”

You decide to indulge her, tilting your head to the side from where you sit across from her, lounging on a velvet sofa. “Why is that?”

“The art of the spider is subtle. It shall trap another in its web.”

(Later that day, you can only wonder if she was speaking of Lord Vaemond after he’d been beheaded by Prince Daemon from behind.)

Aemond

Aemond can barely remember the day you were born, much less the day a celebration had been held for Mother’s pregnancy.

Alike to his siblings, Aemond is not one to forget what you did for him when you were children; how you always offered to take him on rides on your dragon before he’d claimed Vhagar, how you were the only one uninvolved in the “pink dread” incident, how you cried for him after he lost his eye.

After the loss of his eye, Aemond begins to put a wall around himself. Unfortunately, that does include you. Before Driftmark, you were closest with him, but afterward, you had slowly drifted toward Aegon; nevertheless, he shows his affection for you in his own way.

However, he does keep the little gifts you’ve given him over the years safely hidden in his chambers, away from the eyes of curious maids and servants, like the eyepatch you’d embroidered a little Vhagar in in the weeks after his eye was cut out.

When Vaemond’s head is cut off, Aemond immediately places a hand on the pommel of his sword, lest Daemon himself attack you next. When he becomes regent, he is the one who orders you to be given a sworn protector. He is the one who’d help you learn Valyrian when you struggled, even after all your lessons.

Aemond never, never shows much affection to anyone in the family publicly, but he doesn’t mind it if you place a hand on his forearm or his own hand. He prefers it if you keep things like cheek or forehead kisses private in the sanctity of your or his own room.

In his immediate family, you are perhaps the most normal of all, which does make him seek out your company the most. The mornings after he seeks out Madame Sylvi’s assistance are the mornings he spends the most time with you. The shame of it all almost eats him alive, and you are a welcome distraction.

Additionally, the one-eyed prince does genuinely appreciate how you show your devotion to the family, though of course he’d never verbalize it. Almost every training yard session he has, you sit on the balcony, embroidering a dress or two while he swings his sword at Criston’s morningstar.

Your wedding to some old Crownlands lord was a memorable one, mostly because of when Aegon had pinned your new brother-by-law to a table and began beating him senselessly. Aemond was the one who had pried him off, mercilessly tugging him by the collar of his doublet away from the man.

You become pregnant quick. Aemond says that when your son is born, he will bring him to meet Vhagar himself, stating that a “new Targaryen babe should learn the ways of his predecessors”.

As the moons pass by, the Maesters order you to bedrest. Your elder brother likes to visit during his free time, sometimes bringing a book with him to read or nothing, just to converse with you quietly. You are the only “quiet” Aemond has ever known.

When Rhaenys bursts through the boards at Aegon’s coronation, Aemond’s palm finds your wrist, gently grasping it with his long fingers.

Just as your mother does, you begin to shun Aemond after Luke’s murder. It does not make him resent you as much as it does Alicent, but it does make him spiral a bit quicker.

Many a time have you slept in Aemond or Aegon’s bed because of nightmares. The only time he’s ever slept in yours was the night Aegon had found him in the brothel with Sylvi. You had not been awake when he’d crawled into bed with you, just laying beside you and shutting his eye. He makes sure to leave before you wake. Aemond does not know that you were quite aware of his presence, but had chosen not to say anything. If Aemond of all people had decided to find sleep in your bed, something awful must’ve happened. Why take that moment of respite from him?

He knows that you know he burned Aegon, but he does not ever bring it up in a conversation with you, much less acknowledge it. However, Aemond is observant. He notices the fearful glint in your eye when he is around you, now, but this is what he has always wanted, has he not? To rule?

— Aemond is with you the morn after Blood and Cheese, standing in one of the Red Keep’s balconies as you watch the wagon carrying your mother and Helaena depart. Your eyes are sunken in from crying, cheeks swollen; you wear a veil of mourning yourself, though there is no crown settled on your head. The way you lean over the railing to peer at the ground, the way your back is hunched, the way you grieve so openly.. it does not befit a princess. It does not befit someone from the Targaryen family, someone who is supposed to use honeyed words and cunning tricks to protect themself from the environment of King’s Landing.

You sniffle. “Where were you?”

Aemond’s eye goes wide. A deep pit was already settled in his stomach, but it only seems to get worse at your questioning. Even his throat seems to tighten up, make it impossible for him to even choke out an answer.

“When news of… the boy spread,” You begin, “I went to find you myself. But you were not in your chambers, nor in the library. Where were you?”

“Patrolling.” It’s an obvious lie. He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth, jaw clenching immediately. There was no use in patrolling at night, when he could barely see anything. His hand unconsciously squeezes the stone railing.

He’s ready to leave with haste when you nod to yourself, face blank and detached from reality. “…I won’t tell anyone,” You mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. “Wherever you were.”