STORM BRINGER

DAERON DONDARRION Heir of Blackhaven. Prince Consort of the Crownlands & Stormlands. ( mobile navigation )

[daeron-dondarrion]

♛ → THE STORMLANDS present DAERON DONDARRION “STORM BRINGER”, LORD and HEIR OF BLACKHAVEN, PRINCE CONSORT. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the THIRTY-FOUR year old MALE who was PERSEVERING & STALWART before they saw the first of the flames, is now HEADSTRONG & JUDGEMENTAL after seeing the last. they’re often associated with the thunderous sound of a clashing sword through the raging battle, the subtle strumming of a guitar in moments of privacy, and the frequent visits to his brothers and mother that now exist only beneath adorned gravestones. ( Yon González )

**Note: To honor Yon’s Spanish heritage, there are aspects of the Iberian Calé people in the culture and customs of House Dondarrion and Blackhaven as a whole**

I. BASICS

FULL NAME: Daeron Dondarrion

DATE OF BIRTH: January 3rd, 110 AC (Thirty-four years old)

HOMELAND: The Stormlands

STATUS: Lord of Blackhaven, Prince consort of the Crownlands & Stormlands

RELIGION: Faith of the Seven

GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender male

LANGUAGE: Euskera, the Common tongue

MARITAL STATUS: Married to Princess Caerella Targaryen

II. BIOGRAPHY

In canon House Dondarrion didn’t get involved in the Dance, however I’m taking a little creative liberty here: a fraction of House Dondarrion did get involved in support of the Blacks. The late Lady Roanne Dondarrion was the sister of Lord Lysander Buckler, who got executed in King’s Landing for refusing to renounce Rhaenyra. Because of this, Lady Roanne urged her husband to take a stance in support of the Blacks and avenge her brother’s death. Lord Emmon Dondarrion refused this, wishing to remain neutral and avoid bringing doom to his house. The three sons of House Dondarrion (Balian, Harwyn and Daeron) fought against their father’s wishes and took a regiment to battle with them. In 131 AC Balian and Harwyn died in battle, and Daeron got very gravely injured. The healers at the camps did their best and he was taken back to Blackhaven to convalesce and die there, as it was believed he wouldn’t make it. Ultimately, Blackhaven’s maester saved his life. Losing two sons is something from which Lady Roanne never fully recovered and it said she died of a broken heart (132 AC).

Daeron returned to the war after making a full recovery (late 132 AC/early 133 AC), rejoining his maternal house (Buckler) in battle. He came back to the war as a whole other beast, and during this time he earned the monicker “Storm Bringer”, as it was said he fought so fiercely his sword rumbled with the sound of thunder during battle, and the nickname stuck since.

Despite being the third son, Daeron became Heir of Blackhaven because of the deaths of his two older brothers. With so much loss plaguing House Dondarrion, only the following members live to this day: Lord Emmon Dondarrion, the old ruling lord, a gruff and sickly man, Lord Daeron Dondarrion, heir of Blackhaven, and Lady ___ Dondarrion, who is lady-in-waiting to Queen Daenerys Targaryen.

As a Stormlander Daeron wasn't entirely happy about the annexation of his realm to the Crownlands when the last Baratheon died. He shared the feelings of losing their independence that other of his compatriots had. Mostly, he was reluctant to fully embrace the Targaryen rule as he worried his customs and the way of life of the Stormlanders would be erased under the Targaryen rule. However, he didn't see rebellion as the answer. Due to this mindset, Daeron and House Dondarrion as a whole weren’t in support of Pearse Caron’s uprising. Daeron and his family agreed that the best course of action was to work for unity and stability between the two realms, to find equality so the Crownlanders weren't favored by Queen Daenerys.

The naming of Lord Wylliam Swann as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands was something he took as a gesture of good faith, as was the fact that the queen took Stormlanders to her court, including Daeron's younger sister.

The support he gained from Princess Caerella Targaryen when Blackhaven was attacked by the Vulture King and his bandits served as proof to him that the two parts of the realm could work together towards common goals. He accepted the proposal to wed the Targaryen princess after this event. Daeron and Caerella were wed in the ways of her people and his, honoring the traditions of Old Valyria as well as customs from the people of Blackhaven.

Since they were married, Daeron has been travelling back and forth between Blackhaven and King's Landing, with the majority of his time being spent in his homeland. He and his wife had a place within the court of Queen Daenerys but given his father's declining health, Daeron made a point to be present in Blackhaven to take on the duties of ruling lord that his father could no longer carry out.

Daeron and Caerella recently had a son, Baelon Dondarrion. Following the traditions of naming an aitabitxi (godfather) from the Blackhaven community was named, as well as a godfather within the court that could look after Baelon should anything happen to his parents. The godfather they chose was Lord Wylliam Swann.

With the taking of Alaym in Andalos, Daeron departed to fight for the faith and assist in reclaiming those holy grounds, leaving his wife to help his sick father in ruling Blackhaven. Upon news of unrest in the realm with the disappearance of Prince Jaehaerys, the Storm Bringer is journeying back home.

III. CONNECTIONS:

House Dondarrion: Daeron has a respectful but contentious relationship with his father. His father has never quite let go of the fact that his three sons moved against him in favor of their mother’s wishes, which resulted in the loss of two of his sons. Daeron is the only survivor, and as such, any resentment his father still has over the matter is placed upon him. Daeron adores his younger sister and is quite protective over her, regardless of how capable she might be. He’s already lost two siblings, he doesn’t wish to lose the only one he has left.

Caerella Targaryen: Daeron and his family agreed to the union for political reasons and over time he grew to develop true affection for his wife. He saw her as a reliable ally in the aftermath of Blackhaven's attack, and he grew to see the human side of her the more time they spent in each other's company. She is his family now, she is a daughter of Blackhaven by marriage, and the mother of his son; as such she has his full devotion.

Minisa Tarth: Close friend. Minisa was betrothed to his brother, Harwyn, and Daeron had already welcomed her into the family fully. Despite what fate dictated for that match that never happened, Daeron still appreciates and cares for Minisa a great deal, looking out for her as if she was his sister.

Wylliam Swann: A good and trustworthy friend. Daeron respects him a great deal and considers him one of the cleverest men he knows. It was because of this respect for his fellow Stormlander, that Daeron asked to name him Baelon's godfather.

Open to connections for friends, enemies, and everything in between!

[daeron-dondarrion]

Closed starter for @devanitoland Setting: King's Landing. The last days of King Jaehaerys' celebration.

Dornish men and women were amongst those who had been invited to the realm for King Jaehaerys' coronation. The Lord of Blackhaven barely saw the merit in having those people as guests, for they had warred with the Crownlands and the Stormlands in the past. Even to this day, the tensions continued. Daeron himself had been named Marshall of the Marches and Protector of the Mountains by the dragon king. A title that only existed because the Dornish were clearly still enemies to most in this realm.

The hour had grown late and the Stormlander found himself in the company of other lords and ladies of the New Valyrian kingdom, as most of the guests from the other realms had already retired to their quarters. And there she was, a Dornish woman sticking out like a sore thumb, ambling around in the great hall. “Are you lost, lady?” the Dondarrion lord asked bluntly as he got up. “Seek the guest house of the Hayfords, there's where your kin will be,” he offered the indication that had not been asked to begin with.

[caetargaryen]

"i am positive, my love," she replies with a smile. "no need to cause a stir in the castle just because i've had some sort of late night epiphany," she adds with a laugh. the princess appreciates that he recognizes her struggle in the time that he has been gone, but she is more than capable of enduring this and more. she has to be strong, after all, she is a dragon. a sigh passes through soft pink lips as he kisses her forehead, as if the physical reassurance is all she needs to keep going. he is truly so much more than she ever thought he could be, back when they first married.

"no, i haven't," she shakes her head as she says it. the princess is... excited. pregnancy always comes with great risk, yes, but it is certainly worth it when the reward is a healthy babe. and despite her family history, caerella has found that she quite enjoys being pregnant. to know that there is a new life growing within her, it is a beautiful thing.

"i have a good feeling," she tells him, her lips quirking upwards into a smile. she places a hand on her still flat stomach, rubbing over it gently. "i wonder if jaehaera will be able to predict this one when we travel to king's landing," she thinks aloud. the targaryen leans over, placing her cheek against her husband's shoulder as she looks down at their son in his arms. caerella tickles the small babe with her finger, giggling when he ends up grabbing her finger in his whole tiny hand.

[daeron-dondarrion]

His lips curved into a gentle smile. He knew himself capable of causing a stir when his wife's health was concerned. Caerella appeared certain and very much at ease, and he took that as a sign to wait until the morning. “You will get every necessary attention come morning, my princess,” the Lord of Blackhaven assured her, his voice serious and confident, while the gleam in his eyes was one of pure adoration.

Cae appeared much more at ease at present than she was when she shared the news of her first pregnancy. Perhaps, having gone through such trials and tribulations before made her feel more confident in her strength. His brave dragon princess.

“Well, she was right about Baelon,” the lord replied with a smile. Jaehaera had spoken of a boy and they got their prince. Whatever the dragon dreamer saw, it was most likely to become a reality. “Maybe we'll get a little princess now,” Daeron mused. He would be content with both another son or a daughter, he knew. The notion of having a little girl did warm his heart, though.

“Rhaenyra, if she's a girl,” he suggested, meeting his wife's lilac eyes. The bond his wife had with her mother was something she deeply treasured, he knew. And Rhaenyra had also been the queen he'd fought for when the Dance of the Dragons began. A beloved mother, a respected leader. It felt right to honor one of their children in such a way.

[moonhillsunsets]

the widow of moonhill felt a stark contrast to the vibrant colors that surrounded her as she was cloaked in shades of black, beckoning others to take note of her current status. mariela cared not for any attention it might bring, but there was a vain sense of longing to wear one of the beautiful dresses the women around her adorned. she had always been dutiful, however, and would bide her time of mourning for the sake of propriety.

still, in the midst of family, she felt the ability to let down her guard ever so slightly. the culture of mariela's cousin was vastly different than that of the vale. even upon her visits, watching their mother's interact, the different side of her own that she saw within the walls of blackhaven, it was comforting. so when her cousin offered her a hug, she had little reservations on returning the sentiment. "i am well." a subtle smile crossed her features, one that mainly presented itself to offer reassurance to the other.

at the thought of her boys, the smile faltered slightly. "as well as can be, i think." she gave a sigh. "gabriel is trying to be strong, i think." her eldest had always taken on the role of responsible, nuturing brother, and while she did not wish for her son to have to be strong for this, she was grateful for it. "little enzo is still trying to understand, sleep evades him often, but we're managing." she inhaled deeply, the fresh scent of grass and earth comforting the feelings welling in her chest. "they would love to see you." she stated. "and meet your son. how is he? and your wife?" to say she was surprised he was wed to the princess of the crownlands was an understatement, but given their annexation of the stormlands, it was a wise move, and she was glad for her cousin.

[daeron-dondarrion]

Losing a spouse, whether there was love or not in the relationship, changed so much. Even more so for a woman, whose position ended up being more tightly rooted to that of her husband's house. And while he'd only been distantly aware of the intricacies of Mariela's marriage to the late Lord Egen, he did understand her marriage had not been born out of love. A necessity. A strategy. Like so many others, including his own marriage. Daeron knew, however, that he'd grown to be in an emotional situation where if he were to lose Cae his whole world would shatter.

The Lord of Blackhaven kept his hands on his cousin's shoulders for a few heartbeats, offering reassurance. If Mariela had felt alone at all through this experience, he wished to convey she was no longer on her. She would never be on her own, if she wished to rely on him. His expression was one of understanding, of empathy. “Gabriel will try to look after you, I'm certain,” he said, “He loves you so”. A son who loved his mother tended to want to be a shield for her. Gabriel was so young to carry such responsibility, but it was the sort of behavior Daeron understood all too well. The three sons of Roanne Dondarrion had become her shields and swords during the grief of her executed brother. Only one survived that choice.

Enzo was such a little boy, and his heart ached for his nephew having lost his father at such a tender age. “I'd love to see them too. It's been a while since I last saw them, I wonder if they would still recognize me”. Families should not stay away from each other for so long. He had a broken bond with his lord father, and he wished to ensure the relationships he still had left could remain strong, sincere, caring. “My wife and son are well, thank the Gods. We could all meet, if you're not otherwise engaged. We could have dinner, cousin. I'd truly be so happy to see your boys, and have them meet Baelon”. His son was barely a year old, and the idea of having him meet his kin despite his young age filled the Dondarrion lord with gladness. One day, Baelon would be old enough to look upon Mariela's boys and recognize them as his family.

[jaehaerysiitargaryen-deactivate]

"Peace is the ultimate goal. I grow tired of war. We've been at war for so much of our manhood that I find there is little else to do." He knew that the Unsullied were created for war and in that it could grant a brief relief as he worked his way through the waters of kingship. Perhaps he could carry on some sort of greatness in the name of Jaeherys Targaryen. a legacy older than them all.

Jaehaerys shrugged him off for a moment, it was fascinating to consider. Perhaps men were required to piss or pollute their bodies and as such they had a cock and no balls but what was the point of a cock without balls? Pissing. It had to be pissing. If he didn't find it so mind numbingly depressing he would sit and speak with one of the Unsullied, perhaps learn of their life. Alas, he hated most history as it wasn't useful to him.

"Put them to work building walls. We don't want anything left to chance nor do we want anything to be open. The Marches are an important representation of the continued strength of the Stormlands. While my dear cousins the Baratheons are no longer with us may their essence remain as they did with the Durrandons."

He raised his hand and the door was opened. The King rose from his seat and extended his hand to the man before him. "I expect and foresee great things from you, my lord. Perhaps we will see a bright future after all."

[daeron-dondarrion]

Peace was the ultimate goal indeed and Daeron could fully agree with that. War was not meant to be about annihilation, but the struggle to regain the tranquility and steadiness lost. The Storm Bringer had always been a soldier as well as a lord, and he had grown tired of all the battles he'd seen in the last decade. Over and over again the world burned. And so Daeron nodded along to the king's words. “I too crave peace, your grace,” he responded. “I wish for our sons and daughters to see a better world than the one that shaped us”.

The citadel of Blackhaven was a well-protected space, but the population had grown some over the past few years, a few fellow Stormlander folk moving in during and after the Dance of the Dragons to a land in which they knew they would be protected. The coming of the Unsullied represented even more citizens to look after, more citizens to become a part of the community that kept Blackhaven alive and well. “Of course. I will begin planning for that project, my king,” the lord nodded, “If you wish to visit Blackhaven to oversee any of it at any point, my home is your home, your grace. My wife would be pleased by the visit too, I'm sure”.

The Lord of Blackhaven shook hands with the dragon king then, the man who was not only his new monarch but who was tied to his family due to the close bond with Cae. Their brief meeting was over, with Daeron having been named Marshall of the Marches and Protector of the Mountains, a duty he was to take most seriously. A grand honor for House Dondarrion with the beginning of the realm of New Valyria.

END.

[moonhillsunsets]

setting : highgarden, the reach, before the kingdom of the vale departs, starter for @daeron-dondarrion

black cloaked the image of the lady of moonhill as she walked the halls of highgarden, having become a widow just prior to their arrival in the reach, causing her to arrive slightly later than the rest of her kingdom as preparations needed to be made at her husband's untimely death. it was a shock, to be certain, though mariela did not necessarily love the man, he was the father of her children, and his absence was certainly felt. her dear friend marasol, and yesenia, were certainly mourning their father as well, and the widow attempted to manage the whirlwind of emotions and needs that now surrounded her, on top of her duties.

the air in the reach was fresh, no doubt due to the greenery that surrounded the castle, though the sun was hotter than a woman of the vale such as herself cared for, a walk in the gardens did her well in a moment where she needed to clear her mind, refocus on what she needed to take care of for the day. amber hues scanned the colorful flowers on each side of her, the hedges growing taller as she walked along the path, looking in the distance now, she spotted her cousin, who she had not seen in some time.

as the other he was conversing with walked away, mariela approached him with a polite smile. "cousin." she greeted him, for their mother’s were sisters of house buckler. "it has been too long. i hope you are well."

[daeron-dondarrion]

Learning about Mariela's loss had driven the Lord of Blackhaven to write to his cousin, offer his condolences as well as any aid she and her children might need going forward. They were family, and the sense of community and companionship to be found with those close to each other was deeply rooted in Daeron's culture. A letter, however, regardless of how sincere and thoughtful it could be, was not the same as a meeting in person. For that, he was grateful that he got to see her now in the gathering of the realms in the Reach. Seeing Mariela and being there for her upon their reunion had been at the forefront of his mind.

He spotted her, a figure donning the black garments of a widow, in the lavish gardens of King Cedric's castle. And so he put a hand on Ser Itzar's shoulder, his trusted second-in-command and Baelon's aitabitxi. “Geroago aurkituko zaitut, adiskide,” he said. I will find you later, my friend. His brother-in-arms returned the gesture, patting his shoulder and giving a nod, before departing.

“Cousin,” Daeron said in turn when he stood before Mariela, the now widowed Lady of Moonhill. Having grown up with frequent visits from his mother's family, Daeron held Mariela in the closest regard, both a childhood friend and someone he was bound with by blood. He offered a small smile, one filled with sympathy for the loss of her husband, and went over to hug her. “I have been well, thank the gods. I am more content than I have any right to be thanks to my wife and son,” the Lord of Blackhaven said as he pulled away, hands remaining on her upper arms for a moment. “Tell me, how are you, Mariela? How are the boys?”.

[jaehaerysiitargaryen-deactivate]

“Allow me to wish death on them both.”

The King nodded his head and would include the desire in his prayers, perhaps a destructive plague would befall the Dornish, and the sands would wash away but it would never happen. He cared not for them, but he didn’t like this Mors Martell, a man who permitted lawlessness would always be a problem to put a pin in and watch. Jaehaerys didn’t wish to take Dorne, he didn’t think it a feat possible, the Dornish were of their Sands and he was not. The sun would bleach his bones and some great family would put his skull on display or, if merciful, crush it to dust for the shame he wrought on his house.

“Let us speak plainly, all further aggression must be met with an unrelenting force. Swords. Leave examples for the ravens and whoever follows. They will call the Marches a feast for crows should they come back. Let us hope, for peace’s sake, we’ve no more raiders in our marchers.”

He listened to him, taking in everything the other said to him. It was good the man would prove capable. Jaehaerys knew little about him. And yet, in the libraries of his memory he would swear he learned about this man in another life because he demanded to know who would become part of his fragile family. Nepotism. Otto used to speak with it with venom. As a boy he remembered Aemond telling him nepotism was only bad when one couldn’t prune the tree. Their Grandsire should have pruned the tree. And because the tree wasn’t pruned, because the tree was allowed to overgrow and now they were burning thousands of people alive.

He didn’t miss his uncle Aemond. He always came to him with the sounds of screams in the background then the foreground and then all around them so loudly that all other memories were overshadowed by horrors he could hardly remember. Jaerhaerys imagined what life would be like when it was quiet and then he remembered there was one truth for Kings.

Things were never quiet.

“The Unsullied coming will be freed men, they will have names and they will receive payment for their services. They are eunuchs. Root and stem they say. I’ve heard others say it’s just balls or there’s just a cock there.” Jaehaerys looked at him. “Isn’t that strange? Anyway, they’re loyal and they’re free and the Stormlands will make them feel even freer. Perhaps … other things we can do. The builders who come to the stormlands are also freed men because there will never be a question of a man’s status. I want them to have opportunities. Perhaps along those areas.” Jaehaerys suggested, fingers interlocking.

“Do not let my thoughts get away from me.”

[daeron-dondarrion]

“Allow me to share that sentiment,” the Lord of Blackhaven stated, evoking the same sort of disdain as the king had. He had no love nor patience for Dornishmen, least of all their inept Princes. He never pretend otherwise. The old Prince had done nothing but sink into decrepitude, and his son had followed suit in ineptitude. As men of the borderland, the soldiers of Blackhaven had endured the attacks and raids from lawless men of Dorne for far too long. Many women had lost sons, brothers and husbands because of it. But now, getting such clear support and encouragement from the Targaryen king to fiercely defend that edge of the Stormlands bolstered Daeron’s trust in the new monarch. He was being given every concession to unleash the full storm of swords upon any aggressor who dared cross a line into the territory.

“For the sake of my community, I too hope we’re left in peace,” the lord responded, praying that would be the case. Just because he and his men had a knack for driving away and killing attackers did not mean he wished to keep that violent wheel spinning forever. “But know we will definitely make an example of any foreign raider that dares cross into the Stormlands. You will find no more skilled soldiers to defend the Marches than the sons of Blackhaven, your grace”.

Daeron had heard about the Unsullied, he had seen some of them fight in Alaym, men used as weapons to fight under the command of others. They were a force to be reckoned with for sure. Having such fearless warriors in his lands would hopefully make the desert raiders think twice before attempting to move into the Stormlands’ Marches. If they dared, the joint force of Blackhaven men and the eunuchs would put such a brutal display that no other would dare make the same mistake. A feast for the crows, as the king said. A command the Storm Bringer of House Dondarrion would have no qualms in fulfilling. “I care not if they have no balls, no cock, my king. As long as they fight as the legends say. I will honor their newfound freedom and call them my brothers in arms”.

The next words the king spoke made him think for a moment, consider the possibilities. There could be a home in his lands for those Jaehaerys spoke of. “There could be a place for them in Blackhaven, in the areas around the citadel, your grace. We have farmland and the village has begun to extend beyond the walls”. Builders could thrive there, improve upon what existed already and make a new home.

[daeron-dondarrion]

fmk: caerella, elaena, brianna

“I'd marry Cae,” he easily admitted, knowing deep within that he'd choose to marry her in any situation or scenario he was presented with that choice. Theirs had been a political arrangement, one which fortunately had developed into genuine trust and undying devotion to each other. He loved her. He'd grown to love his wife so deeply. “The Celtigar lady is too young, I think, I wouldn't bed her,” he mused, since Elaena seemed too much like a girl still. Brianna reminded him somewhat of the appearance of some Blackhaven women, she had the sort of features and gaze that could have attracted him before. “So it would be bed Lady Brianna and kill Lady Elaena,” he said in a bit of a dispassionate tone. It was all a hypothetical game, and therefore a bit of a waste of time.

( @caetargaryen, @elaenaceltigar & @briannabrackens )

[jaehaerysiitargaryen-deactivate]

daeron-dondarrion​:

The shifting winds for the Crownlands and Stormlands worried the Lord of Blackhaven for his people, for his wife and son, both of Targaryen blood. He feared a second coming of a battle between the dragons could begin, a new struggle for power and claims of a rightful crown upon the right head. Daeron knew not much about his wife’s cousin other than what reputation claimed and what Cae assured or dismissed about that. And yet Jaehaerys had fortunately proven him wrong very quickly through the ways in which he was conducting himself as the new king.

News of courtiers from the Stormlands that sat the new council was a reason for some ease after the uncertainty of the changes of power. The new Hand of the King was Lord Wylliam Swann, a most trusted friend, Baelon’s godfather. A man like that so close to the king was a blessing in so many ways. Still, the fate of Blackhaven wasn’t clear, it wasn’t secured, not until he heard it from the king’s lips.

“Your grace,” the lord bowed his head, standing by the door like a soldier at ease once he was escorted to meet with Jaehaerys. “I despise them in the same measure they prove worthy of that ire. The Princes of Dorne rarely keep their subjects in check. They attack my home and other territories along the Marches”. It was both old history and a current tension that hadn’t been eased.

He’d not expected the route this conversation was taking, with the new king wishing to grant him a position, a responsibility, over the borderlands of his homeland. “Believe me, my king, I do not stir up conflict unnecessarily, but when someone comes at my door and brings violence, I answer in kind,” the Storm Bringer stated calmly. He wasn’t a bellicose man, but when the situation called for it, Daeron led his Blackhaven men to battle to fight off the threats that came to bring strife to his people. “I’m honored, your grace. If you put your trust in me to keep your borders well-protected, know they will be so. My men and I have thickened our skins doing that for years”.

.

“There is a Prince of Dorne?”

Jaehaerys raised a brow as he looked at him and then registered what he said.

“There are two?”

This would be useful information, he’d not interacted with the Dornish court much though he’d been told of the lady and assumed she was their Nymeria. Jaehaerys believed Dornish to be ruled mostly by women and sons until the daughters were old enough but if there were two sons then he would need to sit down with Wyllam and have it explained to him. Confusing succession in Dorne. Women over men, then men taking their last name. Boring history, confusing as well.

“I don’t like the idea of these attacks on my lands. It won’t happen again. I have Unsullied to spare and they will follow you home. You will house them and make sure they are prepared to fight in the Marches. They will fight to their death, through any pain, and there are stories of them taking down thousands when their numbers were hundreds, do try to keep them alive. I’ll send some with you for my cousin as well. I love her. I’ll have her protected by the best when you’re off warring.”

Jaehaerys supposed he liked this Marcher Lord. He was bold in his speaking, and they were made of tougher stuff, his grandfather always said so and he never knew Otto to be wrong about these things. He insisted they lost because his father was weak, impatient and petulant. It mattered not. Jaehaerys could hear the man clear as day. Reward your Stormlanders and they will raise their sons to revere you.

“Our sons will be kin, my lord. It is a matter of importance to me that we keep our family close. The dragons are a family now, united under my doing and we will stay this way.” It was reassurance for the other. While he wasn’t a soft man, none would speak of him as a gentle with his words or his approach. Jaehaerys knew there would be weariness, his take over was quick, deadly, and certain.

“My trust is in you. You have a family to protect and a border to uphold. Knell, my Lord. I shall honor you with your title.”

[daeron-dondarrion]

Daeron's expression became one of mild amusement and partial disdain at the mention of the Dornish ruler. A prince, not a king. There was something to be said about such a status, after all. “The old prince and his son. The old man might have died by now, who knows. He's been an irrelevant figurehead for as long as I can remember,” he responded with a one-shouldered shrug. From what he'd heard, the old prince had been ill or incapable of ruling for a long time, withering away while his heir played at being ruler. “His son, Mors Martell, permitted lawless men and bandits to run free in the desert and along our border for far too long before he finally swayed to do something about it,” he stated plainly. The damage had been done, however, with attacks and thievery feeding the centuries-old tensions between the Dornish and the men of the Stormlands.

Daeron had gained some support for Queen Daenerys and his sister in the past, Caerella and her men aiding in the aftermath of the last attack suffered at Blackhaven. There was reassurance in hearing the new king state so directly that he wouldn't stand for occurrences of that kind on his borderlands. The Unsullied had a reputation that preceded them, and adding such forces to the army of Blackhaven would certainly aid in defending the territory. “Of course, there are three garrisons in Blackhaven. I will ensure your soldiers are housed and receive the same honorable treatment as my men,” the Dondarrion lord stated, ensuring the king would know his soldiers would be treated with honor and respect, as any other under the banner of Daeron's house. “Thank you for sparing those men to defend my lands, your grace. Me and my wife appreciate this support,” he added, offering a respectful nod.

Caerella called Jaehaerys her idaña. Her twin. A brother in her heart. The lineage of the new king would be cousins to his and Cae's children, and so the Dondarrion lord wished to foster a good relationship between them. His children, heirs of storm and fire, would be a branch of the House of the Dragon, and he didn't wish to see them battle their own kin as the past generation had during the Dance of the Dragons. “I agree completely, my king. A close family and a reliable community are of utmost importance in my culture. Know that you and your family will always have a place at Blackhaven,” he offered, a most sincere promise for the king who was truly looking for the best interest of Stormlander people like him and his kin, “And you will have loyal subjects in us”.

And so Lord Daeron Dondarrion knelt before the new dragon king when asked to do so. The Storm Bringer unsheathed his sword, placing it before him. Lightning. The blade his wife gifted him. The sharp point met the ground, his hands wrapped around the hilt, and Daeron bowed his head to receive the honor the King Jaehaerys was to bestow upon him.

[caetargaryen]

continuing from here.

it's hard for her to sleep now, now that she is awake and her stomach is turning. she knows something is off and if she really tries to, it's hard to recall the last time she bled. the princess is certainly past due, that much is for certain. but she's just been so caught up in caring for her son and trying her best to hold things down in blackhaven that she hasn't paid it much attention.

a smile pulls at her lips as she watches her husband interact with their son. seeing how gently he holds him, how gently he speaks to him in his native tongue, it's beautiful to her. she hopes that their son will grow to speak both his native tongue and hers as fluently as he will speak common. when he finally turns around to look at her again, her smile only grows.

her stomach doesn't settle but she hardly notices it when he looks at her that way. there is nothing but love in those valyrian hues. "hm? no, i am fine for now and the hour is late anyway," she replies, giggling slightly. "do not worry about me. but.. yes, i believe i am with child again. we can have the maesters come in the morning."

@daeron-dondarrion

[daeron-dondarrion]

“Are you sure?” he asked, some concern present in his voice. “You've been here on your own long enough, Cae. You don't have to endure it all on your own, without help,” Daeron murmured, his hand still cupping her cheek. His brave princess had taken everything in stride, ruling over Blackhaven, looking after their young son, playing her role within the court of the Crownlands and Stormlands. The lord leaned close to press a tender kiss to her forehead, a most loving gesture. Gods, how grateful he was for her. She was every bit the partner he'd hoped he might have in life; all of it and so much more.

“You've not bled since I left?” he inquired, figuring that was the reason his wife suspected she could be with child again. Caerella's mother and grandmother had had a history of complicated pregnancies and that was something that continued to worry him. Each new pregnancy could be a new risk for his wife. “We can wait 'til morning if you wish, my love. The maester can come to check you then. Make sure you're well, if you are with child,” the lord smiled, a special warmth coming to his dark eyes which was only reserved for the woman he loved.

[daeron-dondarrion]

caerella​:

it had been hard, dealing with her husband being off in the fighting in alaym. especially when it is a fight she herself doesn’t totally believe in. of course she never expressed this to him, not wanting to bring down his beliefs in any way. she may not share the same faith in the seven that he does, but she understands that for him and many others, the seven is an important part of their lives.

what made the time apart harder is the fact that there was once again turmoil within her family. jaehaerys staying in the stormlands, fighting, then disappearing. the way her sister worried. the way she had to go back and forth between blackhaven and king’s landing just to see her more often, offer her comfort and guidance in the best way she can. 

she immediately startles at the sound of their son, having gotten used to waking up to his cries. caerella rarely lets him spend time in the nursery, not after what happened to her brother’s children. she finds it hard to trust anyone other than those closest to her with the child. “are you sure?” she asks, voice somewhat raspy and laced with sleep. 

lilac eyes peak open to watch him get up and walk across the room. suddenly there’s a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach she swallows down. and before she can stop herself, she blurts it out. “i think i am with child again.”

“Yes. Try to sleep, my love,” he answered in a soft tone. His wife had been taking care of their son on her own for the time he was away, guarding him and nurturing him day and night, for he knew she refused to let Baelon be away to prevent a tragic fate like the one that befell Daemon’s children. She was fiercely loving and protecting, his dragon princess. She too needed her rest, though, and he was here now to aid in what he could.

Daeron bent down to pick up Baelon from his cradle, carefully tucking him into his arms, rocking him gently. “Isilik orain, ene semea,” he murmured. Hush now, my son. His attention went to his wife right away, though, after hearing what she’d just said. I think I am with child again. The Dondarrion lord immediately thought back to that last day before his departure, of the way they urgently held to one another as they didn’t know what the crusade would hold for him, of the way he made love to his wife all night instead of resting for the journey ahead of him.

“Are you feeling unwell? Do you want me to call for a maester?” he asked, moving to sit down on their bed. His son still whimpered and he held him close to with one arm. His mother had once told him babies were eased by the sound of their parents’ heartbeats, so he let Baelon rest his little head against his chest. His free hand moved up to cup his wife’s cheek and the news she’d just given him began to sink in. He smiled.

[jaehaerysiitargaryen-deactivate]

| @daeron-dondarrion | | setting: within in the king's solar he makes an offer to daeron dondarrion in his new kingdom |

Daeron Dondarrion was a Stormland the King once believed to be a Dornishman. When he was taking over and preparing his orders, he wanted to have the measure of their house and found people who hated the Dornish as much as he and he would respect it. Nightsong no longer belonged to Vaegon Velaryon, and he wouldn’t give the land to Daeron. Not yet. He wanted to get the measure of the man as he gave him his new titles and orders.

The King didn’t wish to take his lands, nor did he wish to embarrass or shame the man. Jaehaerys loves his cousin and there for he loves her husband, he supposes, and he would make sure this man who father Stormborn Targaryens was settled and cared for in ways other Kings of his family history didn’t encourage. They ruled and it was all they did after some time.

They were meeting in an office where the King could sit away from the eyes of the court. He’d been meeting with people for hours a day over the weeks since ascending the throne and as much as he enjoyed the ascent, he grew tired of the eyes always on him.  He looked at the Stormlander before him and he didn’t smile at him, but he didn’t hold the usual look of contempt when speaking with someone who moved under his skin.

“Lord Dondarrion, I have it on good authority you despise the Dornish as much as I despise them. As much as we all should espies those who once funded the men that raided our waters. Putting the money behind the Stepstones and watching the chaos unfold.

Alas, it matters not what mean did almost 20 years ago. What matters now is that I wish to have strength along my marches and mountains, and I wish for you to have that strength at your hands. I will be naming you Marshall of the Marches and Protector of the Mountains. The Stormlands will fall into your hands and your protection. And you will hold a guardianship over Nightsong.”

Nightsong would be his under a trial basis, they would work through the needs of the lands and if he thought the man did well then he would either have another castle to give to his half Targaryen children though he would circle back to the thought. It was a pity to think of all the missed opportunities between houses and families, green and black. This would make up for where his aunt failed him. Failed them all. Failed the realm.

“I do not wish to start conflict, I wish to make it known that conflict will be avoided or the answers will be harsh and final. I’ve heard that your Stormlords in the Marches are cut from tougher stuff that if they turned your essence into steel it would be hard enough to cut through the finest steel. What say you my lord?”

[daeron-dondarrion]

The shifting winds for the Crownlands and Stormlands worried the Lord of Blackhaven for his people, for his wife and son, both of Targaryen blood. He feared a second coming of a battle between the dragons could begin, a new struggle for power and claims of a rightful crown upon the right head. Daeron knew not much about his wife's cousin other than what reputation claimed and what Cae assured or dismissed about that. And yet Jaehaerys had fortunately proven him wrong very quickly through the ways in which he was conducting himself as the new king.

News of courtiers from the Stormlands that sat the new council was a reason for some ease after the uncertainty of the changes of power. The new Hand of the King was Lord Wylliam Swann, a most trusted friend, Baelon's godfather. A man like that so close to the king was a blessing in so many ways. Still, the fate of Blackhaven wasn't clear, it wasn't secured, not until he heard it from the king's lips.

“Your grace,” the lord bowed his head, standing by the door like a soldier at ease once he was escorted to meet with Jaehaerys. “I despise them in the same measure they prove worthy of that ire. The Princes of Dorne rarely keep their subjects in check. They attack my home and other territories along the Marches”. It was both old history and a current tension that hadn't been eased.

He'd not expected the route this conversation was taking, with the new king wishing to grant him a position, a responsibility, over the borderlands of his homeland. “Believe me, my king, I do not stir up conflict unnecessarily, but when someone comes at my door and brings violence, I answer in kind,” the Storm Bringer stated calmly. He wasn't a bellicose man, but when the situation called for it, Daeron led his Blackhaven men to battle to fight off the threats that came to bring strife to his people. “I'm honored, your grace. If you put your trust in me to keep your borders well-protected, know they will be so. My men and I have thickened our skins doing that for years”.

[daeron-dondarrion]

Closed starter for @caetargaryen Setting: After spending the last few months in Andalos fighting to reclaim Alaym, Daeron had journeyed back home due to the worrisome state of things in the realm. Just earlier that day, he was reunited with his wife and his son.

The ground shook in Alaym with the clashing of swords and the cries of men dying. He wielded flames at the edge of his sword thanks to his wife, cutting through the enemy in more ways than one— Lightning, to some, resembled their archaic myth, and coming face to face with craftsmanship that could emulate divine magic was a shock for which they hadn't been prepared. Daeron brought a thunderstorm of ferocity into battle; a soldier, a lord and prince consort, playing his role in the faith's will to reclaim a most sacred land.

The journey back was made as quickly as possible, his duty and his want to stand with his people for what would come. To be with his wife and son. Being back in Blackhaven was both as relieving as it was sobering. He had to prepare himself for the inevitable regarding his father. House Dondarrion was to lose another member soon. Where one life was to depart, another had come. Such was life. And Baelon, by the blessings of the gods, had been born a healthy boy.

He’d returned to his home, to his princess, when dusk painted the Stormlands Marches with orange and amber light. He was weary from both the time on the battlefield and the journey across the Narrow Sea, but content for their reunion. He’d bathed, very much in need of the relaxation it brought him, and later had a private dinner with Cae. He’d missed her company, the warmth of his dragon princess. That night, sharing a bed again, Daeron slept cradling her body close to his, holding her against his body as their breathing and heartbeats met in the same rhythm. He was only stirred awake when he heard a cry from their son. He felt Caerella shift in his arms as their son whimpered on. “I’ll get him,” he kissed her cheek and then got out of bed to pick up Baelon from his crib.

[daeron-dondarrion]

The Storm Bringer who wields Lightning

When news of the taking of Alaym reached Westeros, many men loyal to the Faith of the Seven were set to depart to Andalos to reclaim the holy site and push back against General Lotho's forces. Daeron Dondarrion gathered his men in Blackhaven and sailed across the Narrow Sea to aid in the efforts of such a crusade. Before his departure, his wife, Princess Caerella Targaryen, gifted him a new weapon. Employing the most skilled blacksmiths and alchemists of Blackhaven, the princess commissioned a sword that could have its blade set aflame. A gift that honored Daeron's trajectory as a hardened warrior as well as his place as a consort to a dragon princess, giving him fire through this blade. It was also a gift that she hoped would keep her husband safe in the battle in Andalos. The sword was named Lightning (Tximista, in the Euskera language), a new magnificent blade for House Dondarrion. When Daeron wielded that blade in battle, it is said that some of the R'hollorists in Lotho's army were frozen by shock. Their very beliefs accounted for a flaming sword, the mythical Lightbringer, and yet here came another with a similar weapon to use against them. The Storm Bringer of House Dondarrion lived up to his monicker, fighting alongside the Westerosi army with unmatched ferocity. Lightning was the last thing many men saw. Some of the opponent's army's morale was crushed, for the power of sacred belief could falter when the others possessed the skill to match faith and worship with extraordinary craftsmanship. Daeron fought alongside Reachmen, men of the West, his fellow Stormlanders, and Crownlanders while in Andalos for the past months. It was only when news of the disappearance of Prince Jaehaerys and the unrest back home that Daeron returned to Westeros. And so the flames upon Lightning and the soldier who wielded it stopped tormenting General Lotho's army.

[thunderbirdthor-deactivated2020]

[daeron-dondarrion]

@caetargaryen​

[daeron-dondarrion]

caerella​:

caerella also had never expected to fall in love with daeron the way that she has, especially so quickly. but somehow he has swiftly gone from a man who is nothing more than a means to further unite the realms to a man who has carved out a place for himself within her heart. a source of strength for her, for he feels like someone she can truly lean on.

it always manages to make her smile when he calls her my queen. it is her title, yes, but she knows he doesn’t just mean it as some formality. there is something sweet about it. she leans into his touch, smiling up at him, love in her lilac eyes as she meets his pools of brown.

the name sounds even better rolling off his tongue. and she waits, waits to see what he thinks. does he like it? she hopes so. as a king, he will need a targaryen name, though he will be a dondarrion for a large portion of his life. but when he ascends the throne, he will need to have a name fit for a dragon king. “i am glad you like it,” she replies softly, looking down as his hand moves back and forth over her belly. 

she presses her forehead to his, sighing with contentment. she never thought she could be happy like this. there’s a small kick as his father comments that it feels right to call him baelon. “i think he agrees,” the queen replies with a giggle, placing her hand on top of his. 

His wife’s eyes were a most soothing lilac hue, and he found himself wishing that their little prince would inherit his mother’s gaze. A gaze that could reflect pure fire or grounded serenity. Those Valyrian eyes were often thought to be something other than human —a feature of near gods, a feature of madmen— but in time Daeron has learned to see so much more in them, to also see so much more in his dragon queen.

This was the start of their family, a thought that gave Daeron hope for the future. This was their family, and the Storm Bringer of Blackhaven silently vowed to protect them, to fight and defend them from the tragedies that have marked both the Targaryen and the Dondarrion houses. And so he treasured this moment profoundly. He kissed her forehead and smiled as he felt the kick of their child against his palm. He smiled and chuckled along with his wife.

He then brushed a strand of silver hair behind his wife’s ear and met her gaze, looking at her with more adoration than he knew himself capable of feeling. “Maite zaitut, nire erregina,” he whispered, the tender words in his language brushing against her lips before he kissed them. I love you, my queen. He loved her as the queen that could unite two realms. He loved her as his wife and as the mother of his child. Most of all, he loved her for the perfectly flawed human she was, beautiful in her complexities, courageous through her passionate heart. All the faith he had in her wasn’t because she was a Targaryen, it was because she was Caerella.

[daeron-dondarrion]

willow​:

there was little else willow enjoyed as much as a storm. it reminded her of home. she had grown up on the coast of the stormlands, rain house had been constantly battered by storms rolling in from the sea. it was the sound of her childhood. there was no crack of thunder loud enough to wake her, no rain harsh enough to scare her. even she had to admit a storm like this was unusual, but she and her sons were safe inside, so she had nothing to fear. “i thought you’d be used to storms, your grace ― or has your time in king’s landing already made you forget?” there was a slight smile on her lips, but it was far from kind. he had married a targaryen, the successor to the blacks who had executed her father, who had killed many of her siblings. he had fathered a new targaryen. the targaryens were all a blight on westeros. daeron had wed the queen and helped add a child to their miserable lot. a future monarch who would uphold the oppression of the stormlands. it disgusted her. he was nothing but a traitor. he should have helped rally the stormlands in rebellion, not taken the knee and wedded their queen.

Daeron Dondarrion turned to look at the woman who approached her, a slight frown crossing his features. Which one was she? Ah, yes. Morgan’s sister who was married into the Riverlands. The subtext within her words was so plain and obvious it could hardly be called so, emphasis even given by the faux smile across the woman’s lips. “It has not,” he stated plainly. The Reach, however, wasn’t known for this sort of inclement weather. This sort of event was unexpected for all, made evident by how unprepared people seemed to be to deal with the swift and brutal change in the climate conditions. “There were lords and ladies still out there. Soldiers, guards. Perhaps you failed to see it, Lady Blackwood,” he added, for his concern was for those still out in the storm, not the meteorological fact itself. Daeron took a breath and looked at her, studying that little smile on her lips. “Now, please, do say what you mean to say, my lady,” the consort king said firmly, “and spare us all this performance”. A pause. “I’m all ears”.