thinking about “you haven’t met all the people who will love you” and like!!! you also haven’t found all the things that will make you happy!!!! there will always be new authors and musicians and artists whose work you will one day discover and love!!!! there will always be new hobbies and skills for you to learn and feel fulfilled by!!! there will always be new things around the corner that will bring sudden and unexpected happiness!!!!!!!!!!!
“i think alicent is terrified of aemond [...] but then she sees the fragile boy inside of him, who is quick to seek revenge, because of what’s happened to him.
Daemon Targaryen x Daughter!Reader (no targcest I promise)
Aemond Targaryen x Targ/Royce Reader (slight targcest but I mean other Houses were married their cousins too so...)
Word Count: 8388 (holy crap...)
Warnings: Kinda graphic at the end, death, shitty parenting, probably inaccurate timeline (nothing immersion breaking I don't think but I started getting annoyed cause of the lack of clarification on the timeline and years in HOTD and everyone kept giving different answers but I used this timeline from Reddit for reference), probably spelled someone's name wrong
Part 2
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You were born at dawn on a beautiful spring morning. It had rained the night before, so everything was coated with dew. The air was chilly, but not the kind that burned; it felt fresh. It was ironic considering the circumstances of your conception.
Your mother was Lady Rhea Royce, heir to Runestone, and your father was Prince Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince.
In cruel terms, you were an accident born from a mistake. Your parents' marriage had stayed unconsummated for a long time; one night was all it took, aided by drink and the particular misery of two people who despised each other, having nothing left to lose. Prince Daemon had been kicked from King's Landing yet again by his brother, King Viserys, and by all accounts had been livid and deep in his cups within the walls of Runestone. Your lady mother was having an exceptionally bad day of her own, and so she joined her husband in consuming a considerable amount of wine. One thing led to another, you were conceived, and the Targaryen prince fled the very next day.
You only ever saw glimpses of your mother and father. Your mother, while around, was never present. She knew she was supposed to care for you and love you, but how could she when you had his hair? You were born with bright white hair and dark purple eyes. A close image of the man she despised. The man she was forced to marry and regrettably slept with one time. So while she was never cruel to you, she was never much of a mother either. Perhaps if she spent the time with you, she would notice the dark brown hair at the base of your neck and at your roots, or the brown in your eyes that muddied the purple.
Your father, on the other hand… You saw even less of him. You were born the same year as Aegon II, and your father's response to the news was silence and then absence. He flew to the Stepstones without acknowledgment, leaving you to grow up in the Vale with only your mother and the quiet understanding that you had not been wanted. He returned sometimes, when the King willed it; punishment, usually, or something beneath him. Those days still excited you. There really was no reason why you wanted your father’s attention as much as you did. Perhaps it was the idea of it all, the dragons, the adventures you’d hoped to go on with him. It never happened, but maybe that was because he had deemed you unready? Yes, that had to be it; he was just looking out for you.
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You woke one morning to the sun blinding you. You sat up, slightly delirious, hair knotted. Your daze was broken at the recognizable whine of Caraxes from the distance. Your heart swelled with excitement. You had been training with the Master at Arms and wanted to show what you had learned to your father, who was known for his combat skills. You threw on the easiest dress you had, a brown one that required no assistance from handmaidens. You ran quickly down the steps, and outside, you might as well not have brushed your hair, seeing as it became messy once again. You knew that your father wouldn’t be around for long, so you couldn’t afford to waste time.
He was dismounting Caraxes when you saw him.
“Da! You… you back!” he heard in a breathless little voice. He closed his eyes and let out a huff, bracing himself to turn around and face you. He put on a slight smile to appease you.
“Hello, daughter…”
“I been learnin’… a lot…! I show you? Later? You watch me?”
“Perhaps, now I have some matters to attend to. I should be seeing you later…” he walked away before you could say anything else, already out of breath.
Daemon wasn’t sure why he did that to you. He knew that it devastated you, and you were always so elated to see him. He didn’t hate you, despite what some rumors said; he never called you his “Bronze Bastard,” although that was a popular rumor in the Vale. However, he couldn’t bring himself to pretend to want to be your father either… The truth was that you were a child he did not want from a woman he did not want either. While you looked like him in many ways, when he saw you, all he could see was the brown hair sprouting from the top of your head as he looked down at you, and he tried to focus on the violet color in your eyes, but that would require him to look you in the eyes more than he did. All of it reminded him of a life that was forced upon him.
It didn’t help that he was already in a foul mood after the King banished him to the Vale once again after proposing that he marry Rhaenyra, pointing out that he had a wife already, one he had a child with. Daemon knew why he was in the Vale this time; he knew he was going to commit an act that would change your life forever, for better or worse, he could not tell.
You were three name days old when Lady Rhea passed away in what was called a hunting accident. People of the Vale did not believe that story and were spreading rumors that it was her husband who murdered her in cold blood. The rumors never reached your ears, not yet at least.
Daemon knew he owed it to you to take you with him back to King’s Landing; there was nothing left for you in the Vale, and at least you’d be with your cousins in King’s Landing. He arrived much sooner than you, traveling on dragonback, whereas you were moved via carriage. By the time you arrived, about a month after your mother died, Rhaenyra had been wed to Laenor Velaryon, much to your father’s chagrin. It all happened too fast for your little mind to keep up with. Your father married another woman, Laena Velaryon, and he was gone from your life once again. He didn’t say goodbye, and you didn’t get to show him anything… but he’d be back shortly, he had to, you’d show him then.
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You were raised alongside the queen's children and Rhaenyra's boys. Of all of them, Helaena became your closest friend. Being the only other princess in the castle was reason enough at first, and genuine affection shortly after. She was the only one to comfort you when you expressed your discomfort with the news of Daemon’s two girls being born, Baela and Rhaena, across the Narrow Sea. You were afraid he would forget all about you… You were still upset with him for leaving you behind… again… but if you were being honest, you weren’t angry, just sad.
You avoided Aegon as much as possible; he unnerved you quite a bit and was too loud and reckless for your liking. Then there was Aemond… You quite liked him, well, you liked watching him. You’d never admit it, but as you grew up, you started developing quite the crush on the King’s second son. You watched him train with the Master at Arms. You still practiced in the dark of the night and at the crack of dawn, but you never trained with the Master at Arms in King’s Landing; it was deemed “unsuitable” for a lady here. So, you settled for watching from afar and taking notes. Aemond was very skilled, you had to admit, and perhaps that was what piqued your interest from the beginning. You listened to him talk from a distance and liked his cadence; you liked his hair, his clothing. If Aemond was a part of it, you liked it too.
Aemond noticed you, though he pretended not to. One day, he decided to confront you on your stalkerish behavior.
“You. Bronze girl. What do you want?”
You looked around, wondering who he was talking to, only to realize his eyes were staring into your own.
“Me? Oh! I was just admiring your skills with a sword, my prince.”
“Oh? And what about in the library?”
“...library?”
“Do you not watch me study as well?”
You thought you were stealthier than you actually were.
“Do you want the truth, my prince?” you murmured, embarrassed at being confronted.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” he replied sharply.
You took a long pause before speaking again. Aemond watched you closely as your eyebrows knit together, “I admire you greatly, part of me wishes to become your friend, but I did not believe you to be interested... so I settled for watching from afar.”
He didn’t say anything right away, just looked down at you. His posture seemed to slacken a bit out of relaxation. “We can be friends...” he murmured.
Your ears perked up, your face breaking into a wide smile, “Truly?” you beamed.
Aemond was taken aback by the joy emanating from you; he nodded.
“Do you think, perhaps, I could practice swords with you?” You knew it was a bit of a risk to ask this as soon as you did, but Aemond didn’t seem all that bothered by it.
“I’m sure I can convince mother to allow it,” he shrugged, “but I am finished with this for the day, so it won’t be today.” He noticed your shoulders fall slightly before you picked yourself up again.
“Of course, my prince.” You stepped back, not wanting to disrupt his daily schedule any further.
“Wait!” he spoke louder than he meant to, “I-um, I am finished with swords for the day, but perhaps you’d like to join me in the library? Do you know any Valyrian?”
You shook your head no, “I do not, but I’d like to...” You stepped closer to him, “Perhaps you could teach me some?”
Aemond swallowed before nodding quickly.
It stayed this way for years, quite possibly the best years of your life. It was the most at peace and the most loved you had ever felt in your entire life. You and Aemond bonded over learning Valyrian and in the shared fact that you were the two Targaryen children without dragons. You made a promise to one another that you would both eventually claim a dragon and travel the world together, maybe even see what’s west of Westeros.
However, eventually word traveled home of the death of Laena Velaryon, and with that, the return of your father to Westeros. The moment you heard the whine of Caraxes, you suddenly felt like you were three years old again, begging for his attention. It was almost suffocating, the thought of seeing his disappointed face over and over again, but it was also exciting. The idea that he might be staying in King’s Landing for good, giving him a reason to stay, and you a chance to finally make him proud.
---------
You were older now, ten and three name days old, so when you went to greet your father upon arrival, you were more composed than you had been the last time.
“Father! You’re back!” However, your version of composition would be “improper” by many others' standards.
Daemon dismounted Caraxes, a sight that felt all too familiar, “Daughter, how are you? I trust King’s Landing has treated you well?”
“I am very glad to see you returned!” Your gaze shifted to the two smaller girls not too far behind him. “Oh! You must be Baela and Rhaena!” You stepped forward with a wide grin, time had squandered your worries about your father, and instead had been replaced with the excitement of having siblings, sisters in fact.
“I’m so happy to finally meet you! I’ve always wanted siblings!”
They seemed a little reserved. Perhaps you came on too strong? You didn’t know it, but they knew very little about you, only that you existed. Your father didn’t mention you that much, hardly ever, so when you greeted them with such enthusiasm, they were a bit perplexed as to why their father seemed to shun in such a way.
“It... is a pleasure to meet you as well!” Baela eventually replied. Rhaena was quieter; maybe she was just overwhelmed with her new environment.
You asked him in Valyrian, hoping to impress him — whether he might spare the day for you, now that you had so much more to show him than the last time he left.
Daemon’s eyes flashed to yours briefly in surprise before looking down again, away from you. “Maybe another day, as you said, I have just arrived, and I have important things to do.”
You felt discouraged; he seemed to refuse to speak Valyrian to you, and your shoulders slumped a bit as your wide smile slimmed into a flat line, only slightly curved at the edges.
“Of course... Father.” You nodded your head and watched as he walked away, again. You did your very best to conceal the devastation you felt. Did he not care that it had been ten years since you’d last seen each other? If you hadn’t addressed him as such, would he even have recognized you?
You felt a slight ringing in your ears, your vision becoming unfocused as you felt crushed by a mix of feelings you had not felt in a while…
It had been ten years, and he couldn’t even spare you more than a few minutes before running off again. You felt a hand come up to your back, making you seize up a bit, draw your shoulders up towards your neck, jump slightly, and catch your breath in your throat.
It was just Aemond, thankfully. He looked at you; you didn’t have to say anything to him for him to understand what you were thinking or feeling. That was something very special about the bond you both shared.
You relaxed into him a bit. He moved closer to you and let you lean against him slightly. His other hand moved to your arm, and you placed your hand over his in appreciation.
“Kirimvose.” Thank you. You murmured to him as you leaned your head on his shoulder.
“Biarvose.” You're welcome.
----------
The bond between you and Aemond did not go unnoticed, particularly by King Viserys himself. He felt rather charmed by it, a union of his “old” and his “new” family. He proposed the betrothal to his wife, Alicent Hightower, who had also noted the bond between the two of you and supported it fully. To be frank, she was just happy to see her son smile for once. The part they both dreaded was telling Daemon of it, for neither of them could determine how he would respond.
“Brother. You wished to see me? What for?” Daemon addressed his elder brother while strolling casually into the room. The King and Queen decided it would be best for him to break the news to his brother alone.
“You’ve returned from a long stint of us being apart, again, can’t I just see you again?” Viserys tried his best to conceal the formality of the setting and the stiffness of the room. However, they both knew that Daemon was too well-versed in court and his brother to buy a single sentence of it.
“Let’s not play this game, dear brother. What is it you’d like to discuss that is so important that you felt the need to tell me before I have even retired for the night?”
Viserys sighed and hobbled in front of the fireplace. “It’s about your daughter.”
“Which one?” Daemon already knew which one.
“Your eldest, I hope you’ll share my enthusiasm for this decision.” Daemon tilted his head slightly, not quite sure where this was going, refusing to believe it was what he briefly thought it was. “The Queen and I have decided that a betrothal of your daughter and my son Aemond would be a suitable pairing.”
Daemon didn’t respond right away, only offering a small ‘hm’; his mouth was slightly ajar, and his eyes shifted from his brother to the fireplace. It was one of the few times Daemon had been speechless in his life. Not from shock but more from a lack of knowing what to say. In truth, he had no idea whether it was a good pairing. He knew he was an absent father; he’d be a fool to deny it, but it never quite hit him how little he knew about you... He knew your name, your mother; unfortunately, he knew you were... persistent, a happy child, he assumed... He knew even less about your betrothed... but he didn’t think for a moment that his brother would put you in harm's way, so that must mean that it truly was a good match.
You had written a few letters to him while he was gone; he only ever skimmed through them, they were quite long, and he had only ever sent a short reply. He wondered if you ever mentioned Aemond in them.
“What brought about this... proposal?” he thought he should at least get an idea of the nature of your relationship. Viserys turned to his brother with a small smile.
“They spend almost all their days together,” he huffed a small laugh, “Always in the library, the training grounds, oftentimes in each other's rooms, but not without supervision, I assure you.”
Daemon gave a few small nods, “What...” he huffed, “What is she like?” Viserys debated answering.
“She’s a good girl, but I think it would be best for you to find out for yourself. If you find the time to do so...” Daemon decided to ignore the small dig.
“Maybe... Regardless, I give my consent to move forward with the betrothal.”
Viserys gave a sigh and smiled, “I can assure you, brother, this is a well-matched pair; they will both be very pleased. I encourage you to see them interacting. I think you will find yourself as charmed as the rest of us.”
----------
You were alone in your quarters, stitching a pattern into a tunic you had been making yourself for Aemond’s name day. It was a base of black, obviously, with red dragon stitchings around the borders and down the middle. On the back, you decided to embroider a pattern resembling a map of Old Valyria in the same shade of crimson red as the rest of the accents. Inside the collar, you carefully stitched High Valyrian into it, Naejot ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes, Avy jorrāelan. To my brave dragon, I love you. It would be the first time you’d ever put it to writing. Part of you was nervous, even though you felt confident that he felt the same towards you. The thought of Aemond in general filled you with nerves, both good and bad. Good in that he made you feel like a silly girl you used to read stories about. The kind that blushed and kicked their feet, that wasn’t supposed to be you, you were supposed to be a dragon, fierce and fiery. Bad in the sense that the idea of anything bad happening to him made your chest tight and your throat constrict so tightly that you might never speak again.
A knock at the door broke you out of your trance-like state. You quickly put away all your sewing materials and hid the tunic in a chest under your bed.
“Daughter, it's me. Might I enter?”
Your back straightened, your father was here? To see you? You almost fell over running to the door and flinging it open, “Kepa!”
Daemon gave you a slight smile at your use of Valyrian. You moved out of the way to let him in. You took a breath to relax and not be too overbearing.
“I am happy to see you again. I was worried that... um...,” you trailed off, not wanting to mention your fear of him leaving again, you’d hate to make him feel guilty and cause him to flee once more. “Never mind me, what is it that you wished to see me for?”
Daemon listened to you while taking in your bed chambers, the tapestries on the wall, all with dragons on them, the black and brown couches, a mixture of Targaryen black and Royce brown, the bedpost with markings on it, most likely used for combat practice in your spare time. Daemon always had prided himself on being observant; it felt like he learned more about you simply by being in your room for a few seconds than he had learned in all thirteen years you’d been alive. The white of your hair caught the candlelight, so purely Targaryen, so purely from him. He wondered, not for the first time, what you might have been had you come from another woman. His fingers moved toward your white hair before he caught himself. You could have been his, fully and without complication, if only things had been different. But they weren’t. The brown was always there. It always would be.
“I have some news to share with you, my dear. Two moons ago, the King summoned me to a private council, concerning you...” Your eyes widened a bit. Daemon gave a slight chuckle at your expression, “You did not do anything wrong, do not fret.” He lowered himself onto a chair in the lounge, and he gestured for you to take a seat opposite him. As you settled, he spoke again, “I think it is something you’ll be quite joyful to hear. The King has decided it is time you are betrothed...”
Your mouth fell agape before closing; you knew this was coming sooner or later, and you just hoped it would be to someone you liked... “To whom?” you asked softly.
“Uh... some Lannister brat whose name escapes me currently...”
Your face screwed up in disgust, lip curling, eyes squinting. Daemon gave a bark of laughter at your instinctual reaction.
“I kid, daughter.” Your eyes widened in relief, and you took a deep breath and let out a breathy laugh. Your father had joked with you. “You’re to marry Aemond. From what I hear, you two are quite close.”
Your eyes brightened and sparkled with excitement, and you stood up from your seat. “Truly?!” he nodded, “Father, thank you so much, I can’t- I’m-” You were so exuberant you found it hard to formulate words. You took some deep breaths to calm yourself once more, “Thank you, father, I-I love Aemond...” You fought back the urge to move and hug your father, settling for a nod of gratitude, one he returned.
Daemon rose and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s late, daughter, I think it best you retire for the night.”
“Of course, kepa. Sȳz bantis.” Good night.
He was in the doorframe when he responded, turning slightly, “Sȳz bantis, ñuha brāedāzma zaldrīzes...” Good night, my bronze dragon...
----------
The Queen had summoned you to tea a few days later in hopes of discussing the betrothal.
“Sweet Dragon, how are you?” Alicent smiled. She had come to think of you as another daughter in the years you knew each other. “I trust your father has told you the good news?”
“Yes! I am thrilled to hear it.” Your voice was loud with excitement before quieting down and tacking on ‘your grace’ at the end.
“I am happy, as well, to hear of it. It seemed the obvious choice when the King pitched the idea to me.” Your step faltered slightly. Was it the King’s idea? You thought your father had suggested it, assuming he knew of your relationship with Aemond from your letters. He read them, right? He sent replies back. Why would he send replies to letters he hadn’t read? You shook your head clear, of course he did... he probably just didn’t want to marry you off so soon... He probably just wasn’t sure, and the King’s suggestion probably just put his worries to ease. You took a few deep breaths, your eyes refocused to see Alicent looking at you, mildly concerned. “Is everything alright, dear?”
“Perfectly fine, your grace. Just a tad overwhelmed, but happy all the same.”
“That’s good. Now, I figured you and I could discuss some of the general details of the betrothal, with the main question being when it will happen.” Your private audience with the queen was interrupted by Helaena, “Oh! I had almost forgotten. I hope you don't mind my asking Helaena to join us as well?”
“Of course not! I love spending time with my soon-to-be sister!” Helaena jumped a bit at that and shared your excitement.
The three of you enjoyed your tea and biscuits, the conversation pleasant and easy. That was, until Helaena went quiet mid-sentence, her eyes drifting somewhere far away. "They do not mean to," she said suddenly. "The ones with hooves. They simply do not stop." You found it odd but not unexpected for the dreamer princess.
Time passed into the afternoon when a Kingsguard entered, dragging along a soot-covered Aemond.
“Aemond!” You stood up quickly and moved to him, “What has happened?” You heard Helaena say something, but it didn’t fully register; you were focused on Aemond. Aemond looked down, not wishing you to see him in such a state. Alicent gently moved you aside to scold her son about trying to claim an adult dragon.
“They gave me a pig!” Aemond lashed out. A pig? Who did? Humiliated, Aemond explained that the other boys, most likely Aegon and the two Velaryon boys , wouldn’t be the first to joke about Aemond not having a dragon; they teased you about it once or twice as well. They had given him a pig dressed up as a dragon, and they all laughed at him... oh, your poor dragon.
Alicent stormed out of the room, Helaena and the Kingsguard following close behind, leaving you and Aemond alone in the room. You gently grabbed his arm and led him over to the wash basin, wetting a cloth and wiping his face clean. Sighing, you spoke again, “Oh, Aemond... why did you go with them?” He flinched away,
“It’s not like I knew! They told me they wanted to show me something in the dragon pits!”
“What did you think it was going to be?”
“Why are you defending them? Whose side are you on?” You stopped for a moment, bewildered. Aemond saw the incredulous look in your eyes. “I’m sorry...” You’d always been on his side, always there for him; he knew it was wrong to question it.
“It’s okay... it’s just... You could’ve been seriously hurt today... and not long after I received the good news.” Aemond looked confused,
“What news?”
They hadn’t told him yet. You got the pleasure of telling him yourself. You gently set the cloth down before taking his hands in yours. “My father has given consent for us to be betrothed to one another.”
Aemond was silent as his eyes met yours again, wide as saucers. “We are to be wed?” You giggled,
“Well, not yet, but in the future, yes.” He was silent once more. Surely, he was happy? Your nerves quelled instantly when he huffed a laugh and gave you a big, toothy grin. You could not remember him ever smiling so widely. He quickly leaned forward and placed a kiss on your lips. Your entire body seized up in shock, and you stumbled back a bit. Aemond pulled away slightly.
“I-I’m sorry,” It was your turn for your eyes to be as big as the moon. “I shouldn’t-”
“Don’t ever apologize.” You grabbed his cheeks and pressed your face into his. It wasn’t a very “good” kiss, but neither of you cared very much. You two kept giving each other clumsy little kisses before resting your foreheads against each other.
“You will have a dragon, Ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes.” You bumped your nose against his. “It will be the biggest dragon to ever live, and men will then know how great you are.”
-----------
You had not seen much of your father since your betrothal was announced. You had mistakenly thought you had reached a turning point in your relationship, one where you would finally become the father-daughter duo you had always hoped to be. Every time you sought him out, something else took precedence. You wondered if this was how he treated your half-sisters. It was partially true, but at least he was more involved in their lives. He had been particularly involved in whatever events were occurring in the life of Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. She already had multiple children, and with Baela and Rhaena, you would surely be lost among the pack.
You had carefully calculated your plan of attack and had been watching your father’s daily schedule. He woke up just before dawn, took a spin on Caraxes, stopped by for breakfast briefly, and so on. You were determined to see him; you had spent ten long years mastering crafts, as well as a girl your age could, and you were going to show him. Perhaps it was less out of wanting to please him now and more in spite of him. You knew as a father he should’ve been more involved; deep down, you knew at least, it was a major part of you. Making excuses for him, telling yourself it was somehow for your own good or that you had done something. It was the part you refused to acknowledge, even now as you waited outside his door, the sun not having risen yet. You wanted to show him what he had missed all these years, that you were worth staying for, and that it was a mistake on his part.
You were broken out of your sleepy daze when your father’s door flew open. He was startled by your presence. “Gods, Daughter, what are you doing here?”
You clumsily stood, “I want to show you what I can do. I am not taking no for an answer this time. You’re the king's brother, surely you can postpone your plans for today...” Your confidence slowly teetered off as you continued. Regardless, you stood firm in your place in front of him; you were a dragon, and you intended to prove it.
Daemon raised his eyebrows; in a way, he was proud of you for standing your ground, but mostly he was exasperated. All you ever spoke of was what you had to show him. He was fairly certain you could tell him you had claimed a dragon, and he still would not be particularly moved; he had long since assumed you could fight, that you knew Valyrian, that you could sew. He never quite understood why you felt the need to prove it.
He had also looked forward to the plans he had made for today; he was going to spend it with Baela and Rhaenyra, as well as her two sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys. He would’ve included Rhaena, but she had not yet claimed Vhagar as expected. You also did not have a dragon, so he figured it would be best to make you happy quickly before continuing on with his day.
“Alright, what is it you’d like to do?”
You stared at him, mouth agape. It worked? “Oh! Um- well I’d like to show you how good I am in the training yard and-and I have this piece of clothing I have stitched that I am proud of... so I’d like to show you that, I think you’d appreciate the details... not many people would understand the reference, I think...” You rambled on a bit longer; you had a list of things you wanted to do with him, but all of a sudden, it was like your mind had been wiped clean. Daemon eventually cut you off,
“Yes, yes, we would do all of those things right after,” here we go again, “we take a flight on Caraxes.”
“R-really?” The closest you had ever gotten to a dragon was when Aegon scared you with Sunfyre one time, not for lack of trying, as you and Aemond often attempted to claim a dragon before, but your nerves always got the best of you. Daemon slowly nodded,
“So you'd best collect your things in a travel bag, and I will take you where I like to go when I practice my skills.” He would hear a faint ‘wow’ from you as he brushed past you. “Go on then.”
You scurried off to your room and started filling a sack with your things. You went back and forth on whether to take the tunic you were making for Aemond with you, but decided against it. You wanted it to remain as pristine as possible, settling instead on an embroidery of a three-headed dragon, a take on your house sigil come to life.
Your father was waiting next to Caraxes in the dragon pit. The sun had risen, marking it as a later start to his day than he would have liked. He sighed. He was going to take you to a gorge somewhere in the Reach; he had visited it a handful of times over the years, though never made a habit of training in it. Perhaps it would suit you better. He caught sight of you entering the pit, and you seemed hesitant. You hadn’t seen Caraxes in years, and even then, you never got all that close to him; you didn’t know if he would recognize you at all.
Daemon beckoned you towards the Blood Wyrm. You took tepid steps towards the massive beast. Caraxes shifted slightly at the new presence. Daemon took your hand and lifted your arm. You jerked back a bit when the dragon jolted forward, shoving his head into you. You fought against your father briefly before he spoke,
“Are you a dragon or not?”
It sent a chill throughout your body. Of course you were... but dragons were still fearsome creatures who should be respected... and feared. Daemon dropped your arm, “Perhaps you are not ready.”
“NO! I am.” You had never raised your voice at him before. “Just- just let me do it myself...” You took a deep breath before slowly raising your hand. Your fingers were curled into a fist; you felt as though you had to pry them open to present an open palm to Caraxes’ nose.
He took some sniffs before enthusiastically pushing his nose into your hand. You moved your hand to pet him while giving a breathless laugh.
“Hey, big guy, do you remember me at all?” Caraxes gave a small whine. He did. Your scent resembled his rider’s quite a bit, but with another hint of something that could only come from the Vale.
Daemon was happy for you, though part of him had hoped your nerves would get the better of you and cut the day short. He helped you onto Caraxes before jumping on himself in front of you. You held onto him extremely tightly. He wasn’t going to take you on a joyride; that might be too much of a shock to your system. He patted Caraxes to let him know to take it easy.
You felt the dragon move beneath you, and then, all of a sudden, it felt as though you were light as a feather. You felt yourself lift off the saddle slightly, and you grabbed your father's back. It was the kind of weightlessness that made you feel as though you were falling, the empty feeling in your stomach. It was terrifying, yet the scare factor only fed into your excitement.
It was incredible, you saw Westeros in a whole new light. It was actually quite beautiful from this height. You were flying towards the Reach, and you could see bits of Highgarden from afar when you felt yourself starting to descend. You looked down to see a large, barren gorge. Seemed good for a private spot to train. You could swing all day and barely hit anything. The ground was covered in dry dirt; it hadn’t rained in a few weeks, which was becoming concerning for many lords in the Reach.
You almost slid off when Caraxes landed, shaking you. You did your best to dismount, but your knees gave out when you landed, causing you to stumble slightly. You heard your father chuckle a bit when you popped back up.
“I’m okay!” you called. Your father descended with ease and made his way around to you.
“Now, you see that rock over there?” You turned around and spotted the large sloped boulder sitting in the middle of the gorge. “I want you to go over there and start warming up for whatever it was you wished for me to see.” You nodded eagerly and bounded over. Your enthusiasm was extinguished when you noticed your father not following you.
“Where are you going?” Daemon nearly considered changing his mind when he heard your voice. You sounded so little, your voice cracking slightly towards the end.
“I have something to attend to, but rest assured, I will be back, and by then you’ll be ready.” You had never heard your father so soft-spoken before. Perhaps he was being truthful, and he would only be gone for a moment? You did have to practice quite a bit; you hadn’t in a few days, being caught up in the betrothal and other Aemond activities. You wanted to make a good impression, so maybe it was best he did not see you warming up.
“Okay... but you promise you’ll be back?”
“I promise...” He thought about placing a kiss on your forehead, right where your hairline was, but he settled for a simple caress of the cheek when he saw the brown once again. You watched him mount Caraxes once more. He took one last look at you, and a small smile graced his face before taking off again.
You ran back to the rock and began practicing. You practiced your swing and even started jumping off the rock for an aerial attack. You felt better after that; you had knocked Aemond down a few times, so you were confident you had the talent to back up the amount of pestering you had done to your father. It had been about an hour or so by the height of the sun... where was he? You started to worry that something might’ve gone wrong. You heard a dragon cry from aways away, definitely not Caraxes’ signature whine. You heard a higher-pitched one as well... what was going on?
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Daemon waited with Caraxes upon a cliff, a decent way away from you. He was lost in thought about you.
This is wrong... it is heartless, even by your standards...
She is waiting for you... down there in that gorge, just as you promised her.
Why are you doing this to her... again?
His guilt-ridden thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Syrax. All of a sudden, those bad thoughts went away.
She can wait... she always did.
Not too far behind was Jacaerys on Vermax, who had grown just big enough to ride. On top of Syrax was little Lucerys, and next to Syrax was even littler Arrax, still too small to be ridden but big enough to fly on his own. Joining them was Baela on Moondancer as well.
The riders and dragons spent the day flying and feeling as free as, well, as dragons. The thoughts of you in the gorge swiftly left Daemon’s mind as soon as he and Caraxes flew side by side with Rhaenyra and Syrax.
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Hours passed, the sun moved closer and closer to the West, and still no sign of your father. Thankfully, you had packed some rations in case of an emergency. The dark thoughts you had always suppressed started seeping through the cracks of your mind like venom spreading through veins.
Your father loved you, didn’t he?
Fathers don’t leave their children alone...
They aren’t supposed to do that.
This is not how it's supposed to be!
In the distance, you heard Caraxes, and you snapped out of it. He came back. You could hear multiple dragons now, could feel their roars rumbling through the earth beneath you, and yet you saw nothing. You looked higher, toward the entrance of the gorge, scanning the sky... no wings, no scales. Something else crested the top of the gorge instead.
At the top of the gorge was the source of the rumbling... horses?
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Daemon and Rhaenyra had long since dismounted their dragons. They settled in the grass and watched the children playing. Jacaerys and Baela, encouraging their dragons to roar as loud as possible, were determined to prove their dragon was superior to the others. It made the two laugh... Perhaps Jacaerys would wed Baela? And Lucerys to Rhaena, when they came of age?
That seemed like a nice future...
All of a sudden, Lucerys could be heard yelling excitedly from afar. “A STAMPEDE! You guys started a stampede, look!” He laughed, finding it amusing to see the wild horses fleeing in fear of being dragon dinner. “They are heading for the gorge!”
Daemon found it amusing how excited he got about the horses filling the gorge. The gorge...
THE GORGE
Daemon felt the world slow around him... You were still there, presumably... and the horses were headed right towards you... Daemon sprung up, startling Rhaenyra. He called Caraxes without a word and mounted him faster than he had ever done before, urging the dragon into the sky.
The Blood Wyrm tore through the sky toward the gorge, the horses having kicked up so much dirt that Daemon could see nothing from above. Caraxes landed hard. Daemon was off the dragon before it had fully stilled, running to where he had left you. You weren’t there. Your bag was. You must have tried to run.
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You had never felt so cold when you saw what looked like horses descending from the sky. Frozen in fear, you watched the wild beasts hurrying towards you, clearly frightened. You knew nothing would stop them; horses were formidable creatures, and when running for their lives, nothing would slow them... especially not you. You discarded your bag and anything that might weigh you down and took off running. You ran and ran, your lungs burning. You managed a look back and nothing you could do would widen the gap between you and your death. The horses were closing in and your legs were starting to give out. Then your eyes cast up and you saw the tree; it was small and clearly not meant for climbing, but it wasn’t as though you had any choices. You used what little energy you had left to push towards it and scramble up. Your arms and legs felt boneless. You were out of the horses’ way just barely when they came barreling through, shaking everything around them.
Fear had never gripped you so completely. Tears started clouding your vision; you had always prided yourself on almost never crying, always being the happy child, the one grateful for having anything. But you couldn’t stop the sobs from ripping through you.
Kepa, please save me... please, please please...
Please don't forget about me again...
In some strange way, your life had never seemed so clear to you before. If he had cared, he would have taken you to Pentos all those years ago... if he had cared, he would not have killed your mother... That just made you sob harder, the cracking of the branches not registering in your ears.
“Father... please...” You choked out the words, dust filled your lungs, causing your body to convulse.
The branch snapped, and you fell to the ground into the horses.
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Daemon didn’t think when he took off; he just ran down the gorge looking for any signs of you. His eyes burned from the dust, which created a thick atmosphere, making the already breathless man even more short of breath. Daemon slowed slightly at the sight of... something... underneath a broken tree.
The tree was shattered, its branches littered across the ground. In the middle of it all was something Daemon could not quite identify; it looked like little more than a shadow from where he stood. He stepped slowly towards it, each step feeling like wading through muddy water. Daemon knew what it was deep down... his mind only registering it once he caught a glimpse of white hair. He stopped.
No... gods no...
“Dau-?” his voice gave out before trying again, “Daughter?” he called weakly, hoping for the shadow to begin stirring with life. Daemon’s eyes were burning, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away; even for a second it would take to blink. He took a few more heavy steps until he was close enough to just barely see the brown roots of your hair. It was you, but you didn’t look like yourself.
Your white hair was stained shades of pink and red. Your body had become contorted and broken. Your legs were in unnatural positions; your one arm was beneath you, the other out in front, bent the wrong way.
Daemon’s eyes finally made their way to your face, an image that would haunt him the rest of his life. The side of your head was smashed in from multiple hooves, and the contents of your mind peeked out. He could only make out one eye, the one closest to the dirt; it was wide with a shadow of fear still sitting within. The dark purple of your eyes was being drowned out by blood red. Your mouth was agape, jaw broken. You had died by suffocation before the horses brutalized you… the thought did not bring him any comfort.
Daemon's legs gave out. He was not aware of hitting the ground. There was nothing in his chest; just a hollow where something should have been. He found himself staring at your hair. Mostly white, the way it always was, but the brown roots were still there at the base. They were always there. He thought about the night in your chambers, his fingers moving toward you before he pulled away. He thought about the moment just a few hours ago, his lips almost finding your forehead before the brown caught his eye again. He had pulled away. He always pulled away.
He hesitantly moved to touch you, then gathered you toward him as carefully as he could. It felt as though you were going to shatter under the slightest movement. He carefully supported your head, noticing the way it lolled about when he moved you. Your neck was snapped, only being held together by a few muscles.
Daemon gave a small whimper at this. Part of your spine had also been snapped, as your hips did not follow your upper body. He moved his hand from your head to your back, then to your legs, in an effort to bring you closer, but was startled by the sudden drop of your head when he did. He shifted his legs to bring you into his lap and let your head rest against his chest. Daemon’s stomach started turning; he felt his throat burn. He refused to spill the contents of his stomach on you; he couldn’t bear disrespecting you further.
His eyebrows started to ache from being knitted together; his eyes, which had been burning, began to feel relief as tears welled up. He was crying.
“Ñuha brāedāzma zaldrīzes... I am here... I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was cracked. He kissed your head, unbothered by the bloodiness of the marred side of your head. He kissed your hair, both white and brown, your forehead, and looked into your eyes, wishing they would look up at him once more with the excitement and adoration he took for granted. “Māzigon arlī.” Come back.
His breathing had become strangely regular, producing only a huff every few seconds. Home. He had to bring you home. You deserved that, you deserved a lot, but this was the very least he could do. Make sure you were sent off with respect. When he attempted to move you further, he heard the sound of bones shifting beneath your skin. How could you possibly make it back to King’s Landing? You couldn’t.
Daemon did his best to set you down gently. He felt the ground rumble when a familiar golden dragon landed to his left. Caraxes came up on his right. Rhaenyra slowly descended from Syrax.
“Daemon... what has happened?” She sounded as if she were underwater to him.
A long silence fell along the cavity of the earth. Caraxes let out a small whine, then Daemon spoke softly once more, “Ñuha tala... iksis morghe.” My daughter... is dead.
“She won’t make it to King’s Landing...” Daemon sucked in a shaky breath. “We have to burn her here... she's a Targaryen...”
Rhaenyra was shaken to her core; she had never seen her uncle in such a state before. She had only ever known the confident man from her youth. Now she saw someone she barely recognized.
“Of course...” She spoke and began gathering wood for a funeral pyre. Daemon did his very best to straighten you out; he lay you on your back, closed the eye that was still intact, and brushed your hair out with his fingers. The hardest part was coaxing your broken limbs back into something resembling peace. His hands shook the whole time; it took everything in him not to unravel.
Oh, his poor sweet daughter... how could he have let this happen...
She had done nothing wrong... not a single thing...
He had told himself there would be more time. There was always supposed to be more time.
"I'm so sorry..." It was then that he properly cracked, sobbing as he had not since Laena. He felt Rhaenyra's hands at his back, and after a long moment, he let her help him.
Together they lifted you carefully, supporting your head, and laid you on the pyre. Daemon stood there for a long moment, his mind offering him the mercy of imagining you at peace — face undamaged, body whole. But reality broke through, as it always does. He closed his eyes.
"Dracarys."
(END OF PART ONE)
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A/N: This is the longest thing I've ever written holy crap... I have no idea if this is good or not but either way I'm pretty proud I actually finished something. Also I wanna make a part 2, kinda a follow up but I have no clue when I would put that out, it's a miracle this came out.
Also a big thanks to @slavicdelight, their fic EPHEMERAL was so good and its sequel and it inspired me to write this. Im so fr go read that fic its so good like oml.
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