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Masterlist

You can call me Dy. Mostly write for ASIOF, Bridgerton (not posted yet), and my own stuff that will never see the light of day, it seems.

Daeron x Vaera (Baelor's daughter)

His Dragon in Silk

Of Threads and Little Dragons

Of Doomed Devotion and Other Insults

In the future, I will write for Maekar.

Requests are always open.

I track #daeron x vaera and #seamaiden

#a knight of the seven kingdoms #daeron targaryen #maekar targaryen #seamaiden #daeron x vaera #akotsk #baelor breakspear #akotskedit #daeron x reader #vaera targaryen

souldreamie

It's a Hightower thing

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), House of the Dragon (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Daeron Targaryen (Son of Maekar I)/Original Female Character(s), Daeron Targaryen (Son of Maekar I)/You, Dyanna Dayne/Maekar I Targaryen, Jena Dondarrion/Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen Characters: Daeron Targaryen (Son of Maekar I), Aerion Targaryen (Son of Maekar I), Maekar I Targaryen, Baelor "Breakspear" Targaryen, Jena Dondarrion, Dyanna Dayne, Daeron II Targaryen, Myriah Martell, Rhaegel Targaryen (Son of Daeron II), Aerys I Targaryen, Aegon V "Egg" Targaryen, Valarr Targaryen, Matarys Targaryen, Maester Aemon Targaryen, Daella Targaryen (Daughter of Maekar I), Rhae Targaryen (Daughter of Maekar I), Aelora Targaryen, Aelor Targaryen, Alys Arryn Targaryen, Aelinor Penrose, Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, Shiera Seastar, Daemon I Blackfyre Additional Tags: Targcest | Targaryen Incest (A Song of Ice and Fire) Series: Part 1 of His Dragon in Silk | Daeron x Vaera Summary:

A collection of Daeron and Vaera lore, childhood memories, and past antics set before the events of His Dragon in Silk.

Of Threads and Little Dragons

Pairing: Daeron Targaryen/ OC (Baelor's daughter) Daeron x Vaera

Chapters available here: Of Threads and Little Dragons

It was two full days before the dams of Vaera’s conscience broke loose.

The first day, she told herself that she felt the way she did due to her courses. She was anxious, worried and whenever she thought of Daeron she wanted to vomit. She had gone to see him, but he had been asleep, and she felt a wave of guilt that sent her straight to her chambers finding ways . . . thinking of ways of how she could fix the chaos her jealousy and taste for revenge had brewed.

She skipped midday meal. She played her harp but found no joy. She lay for hours simply staring at her canopy above her bed. The constellations of the sky were embroidered there. It had been a gift her lovely late Aunt Lady Dyanna Dayne had commissioned for her a year before her death for she thought Vaera required a proper bed for a young woman since she had already flowered a few years back. Dyanna used to say that the lives of men and women were charted in the skies on the night of their birth. She wondered if it was written there that she would act in such a way towards Daeron, and that Daeron would act towards her like he had done to make her jealous.

Smokes, the clingiest of her cats, the eternal baby of her (even though he was two years old and had fathered multiple litters, curled next to her, kneading her breasts and purring, as if he was trying to make his mistress, or his mother, smile. A tear slid from her eye, and Smokes, with his long-haired, fuzzy grey paw, played with it, his little claws making a small scratch on Vaera’s cheek.

Vaera pulled the cat towards her, kissing his flat face. “I love you. You are the only creature that loves me. Do you not?”

The cat licked her cheek as Melly who had nursed her through the majority of her like, and monthly moods thought little at first. Vaera tended to be sad and melancholic and prone to anger during her courses. It was not her fault. Vaera’s courses ever since a little girl they were always heavy. So seeing Vaera in bed with her cat curled up was no surprise.

“Your courses are always the hardest on the second day,” Melly said as she set a tray of food next to Vaera. “Sweet cherries and dark chocolate and pistachios and garlic chicken with the oil-bathed chickpeas and bread that you love so much. I had the kitchens prepare it just for you, for I know that your body needs it.”

“I do not want it.” Vaera said, “I have no appetite.” One of her other cats jumped into bed next to her and took hold of her forearm and fell asleep there.

“Eat some bread at least. It will do you good. You’ll be yourself by the evening.”

But by that evening, Vaera had not moved an inch. Rosefyre, whom Vaera called Rosie, had not moved and settled on her stomach while Smokes was on her shoulder. Melly knew then that this was something more than Vaera’s moon blood. Vaera lay still. Rigid. No pacing around, no complaining. Not her usual noise. That made Melly look at Vaera as she finished writing something in the ledgers.

“Spill it out!” Melly said still with quill in her hand, “What did you do?”

The princess’s eyes shifted towards her the woman who had started as her nursemaid, now her main handmaiden.

Vaera remained . . . or played innocent, “I do not know what you are talking about?”

“I am just going to say this: I have known you since you were a week old. I might have been first in charge of Prince Daeron’s care, but you grew close to me to the point that your mother and father stole me from your uncle Maekar’s service once Daeron had outgrown nursemaids. I know you. I know you as if I had birthed you. I know something is odd. I won’t press you, but I am here, loyal to you and that does not change . . . whatever it is.”

That strung one of Vaera’s cords, but not enough to lose her composure. Vaera only nodded, and let herself be coddled by Melly.

“I wish to go to bed.” Vaera said and Melly sighed. She looked for Vaera’s nightgown and saw the princess fit for bed and tucked her into bed like a child, kissed Vaera’s forehead and stayed with her until she fell asleep.

By dawn the next morning, Vaera again demanded to stay in bed. Little food taken, and by mid-morning she spent the majority of the day imagining a version where she had found the courage to tell Daeron of what she had done. He had forgiven her with laughter, a kiss, and him saying “I forgive you.”, and she saying perhaps that she loved him.

It was sunset when Melly saw that Vaera had touched none of the foods that she had been given. To which she informed the Prince of Dragonstone that the princess was not feeling well and that she had not eaten for two days now.

Baelor came himself, rather than sending anyone in his place, letting himself into her chambers without any knocking they way he always had, still in the same clothes he had when he attended the council meeting that ran too long. Vaera was in her bed, in her linen chemise, her five cats all around her.

“There is my little dragoness.” He crossed the room and, without any preamble, kicked off his boots, removed his doublet and washed his hands and face, and sat beside her, displacing the indignant Rosefyre and Smokes in the process, pulling Vaera against his chest the same way he’d done it since she was small enough to fit entirely under one arm. “Melly tells me you are unwell. Not eaten at all! What’s all this? Hm?”

“It’s only my courses, Papa.” She lied, the lie coming out smooth from two days now of repeating it.

“There, there!” He didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t press either, “He only settled beside her, one hand smoothing over her long brown reddish hair, the smell of lilacs intoxicating him. It reminded him of everything simple, constant, the only thing that mattered in the world. “Your mother still curses at me and the whole realm to the seven hells when she is on her days. I have learned to simply appear with a warm pillow, and a savory treat. But you prefer a sweet snack, no?”

“I am not hungry.” She breathed into his chest as he settled into his chest.

“You, not hungry?” It was meant to make her laugh, but instead something in her broke. It did not come out as tears at first, it came out as something instead of breathlessness. Her breath catching hard, and wrong in her chest. Her whole body going rigid, and then shaking, a sound tearing loose of her lung that was nowhere near or close to a word. Something close to a sob and a gasp, and then faster, until she was fighting for air, her hands coming up to claw at her chest, ripping her amethyst pendant off.

“Vaera!” Baelor’s arms came around, instinct taking over before he could, like when she was small and had given in to tantrums, as if a simple hug would calm her like it did back them. Vaera felt as if she wanted to throw up, and he held her right, his hand cradling the back of her head, murmuring nonsense against her hair, the same way she had done when she was a year old and was sad or scared over something meaningless. “Oh my own heart!” Baelor gasped. “What is wrong? Sweetheart, breath!”

But this wasn’t a child’s tantrum. Some part of him knew it. But he still held her tight as if she had scraped her knee or Valarr had broken her toy.

“Vaera, look at me,” Baelor said this time holding her in his hands, “What is this? This isn’t your courses. Tell me what this is!”

She pulled away from him instead, almost fleeing, unable to sit still inside her own skin. Her insides could not stay still anymore, and she scrambled off the bed towards the basinet and threw up. Baelor stood up, almost jumping from the bed as he pushed her hair back.

“There,” He said still holding her hair back as she retched. “There, purge it all out. I have you. You must have eating something off.”

Hearing that made her just worst that she just couldn’t help it but to retch again and vomit.

“I shall call the maesters.” He said as he reached for a clean cloth next to the basinet to clean her face.

Another cry escaped from her lips, “I am so sorry!” She cried when she saw that she had gotten his hands dirty, but to a man who been in a war and been covered in blood, the expulsion of his daughter’s stomach did not disgust him at all, it was pure to him. It came from his daughter, the most pure thing he had ever set his eyes on. “Your hands . . . sleeves!”

“It is fine, my love!” He said, washing his hands with the clean water basinet and pouring more clean water into another basinet. He wet a linen and passed it all around his sweet Vaera’s face. Her face was swollen, eyes watery, and her complexion had changed due to the pressure of the vomiting had covered her in red marks all around her face, and one eye, the white part, had become red as well,

“No. No. I . . .”

“Tell me!” He said, “What did you eat?”

“It isn’t my courses.” She said, looking up, “It was never my courses. It is Daeron! His illness!” She stopped as she felt she wanted to vomit again . . . It was me . . . I did that to him . . . he does not have the pox . . .” Baelor went still, as Vaera held herself tight against the basinet and continued to empty herself there.

He was confused as she grabbed a clean cloth and slid down against the basinet cabinet, “It was me. Oh Gods, I can’t hold it in anymore, I did it. I did it to him, with my own hands . . . and now Valarr says they mean to cut him. I just wanted to scare him. I wanted him to be scared . . . but I never . . . Oh father Papa, I am so sorry, I am so sorry, please—please forgive me! I never meant for it to go this far . . . I never meant any of it . . . I just—”

“What are you saying to me?” His voice had dropped to something she had never once heard.

“I am so sorry!” She said.

“Vaera—”

“I was so mad!” She said, the words starting to spill out of her like vomit, “He told me he loved me. I said it back. He said he wanted me for wife and I said yes . . . but the next day . . . I told him no. I said we couldn’t.” She started twisting the tale to an extent. She could not tell her father the truth of what had happened. It would shame her, “ . . . and he got so angry he could not bear it. He could not let me have said no. I told her about what you had told me about Dorne . . . the prince, our cousin—”

“Vaera—“

“So he went and he kissed the my Lady Marron.” It came out of her in a rush, faster, harder, and something in the set of her had changed entirely, no longer trembling or begging for forgiveness in her knees. She had turned colder, sharper, almost reptilian, like a snake . . . like a dragon, “—he kissed her in front of me, looking at me the entire while so that I would be certain that I could see it . . . and that vapid, empty headed whore kissed him back because she has always fancied him, and then he told me so pleased with himself that he had slept with her so fresh faced about it—”

Baelor was left speechless.

“Then he brazenly told me he was going to go to the brothels.” Vaera said, coming out like now a poisonous rush and every word she said felt almost like hot oil, “Because I would not say I loved him . . . because I said no and he decided that he was owed the right to hurt me however he pleased.”

“Wait . . . wait, wait, wait . . . Daeron—”

But Vaera interrupted him, “I am allowed to say no. That is not a crime. And then I find out by Valarr that he took his pleasure, with two women the same night . . . came home midmorning reeking of cheap perfume, so yes, I dusted his small clothes with an irritant powder because he made me so furious, mad hurt me and humiliated me and I—’

Baelor’s hand blocked her mouth, like a dragon flying over the sky. He closed her lips. “Do not—”

But she shoo her father’s hand off from her lips. Her breath was ragged, “The septon tells us that we must love our family, our brothers, our cousins . . . he says it every bloody week. Love thy family, honor thy blood, but my family is men who whore and call it nothing. Men who kiss whoever they please and think it cost nothing, cruel and careless everyone of them. And you know what’s the most stupid part?” Her voice cracked entirely different, now the fury gone, leaving something more delicate now, vulnerable, more naked. The reason why she did it. “I know you do not want me to marry him. I know it. I am not stupid. Uncle Maekar refuses to acknowledge it, and so does Daeron . . . I know it, I know you fear what kind of life I might have within. I have heard you whisper it with Grandsire, and I don’t care! I don’t fear it . . . I would marry him anyway gods help me. I would marry him tomorrow if he asked me properly and meant it and I instead did this to him,” Her voice broke entirely, “I am so stupid, I hate him so much Papa, I hate what he did with the whores, with Lady Marron, everything he has done to wound me but I still love him. I don’t know why I did that. I thought it was funny . . . oh gods what have I done!”

She collapsed again to the floor and started crying on her knees as if she was begging. Baelor stared at her for a moment and whatever softness had lived have he had, had he felt had shattered. It had been replaced but something that looked like the wariness of a man that was standing too close to a corner about to see something he was not ready for.

Baelor was a man who prided himself in never loosing his compsture. Valarr, Matarys, and Vaera knew how to push boundaries but never had been like this. Vaera was reckless, but she had never done something like this.

She had done things . . . reckless things . . . when she was a child, Aerion ruined her custom dolls and she threw his dragon puppet into the hearth. She one, to excuse herself from a tedious lesson forged Lady Jena’s signature. She got caught within the day, but he always thought it showed an early willingness to lie elaborately rather than simply refuse. She had locked at once a Maester out of the schoolroom until he agreed to let her study something she actually enjoyed, instead of languages. He had thought it funny. Maekar had done something similar, but it did not look as pretty when his daughter did it. She had once started a rumor about a girl who insulted his niece Aelora; it was not traced back to Vaera, but he knew the imagination behind such a rumor had to be Vaera.

All of the chaos, temper, the pride . . .Vaera he had realized had been a girl who had never let a single slight simply pass unanswered. He had laughed at half of it, over the year when Jena wasn’t listening. He had told himself, every single time, that Vaera meant no harm, no true harm. Mischief, cruelty on occasion but never that could be undone by morning, always aimed at something that would not harm a person physically- the mind perhaps, which he now thought was just as dangerous, but it had never been towards something. Never in her life, had she aimed at a person’s own body. Not sustained, not calculated across weeks, not carried our at the dead of night, while she smiled at the boy across supper or at breakfast the next morning and let him believe the gods themself were purging his body from his sins. This was different. It was cold . . . he did not recognize it.

“Papa.” Vaera said, “Father, please say something.”

Baelor looked down at her, “You are telling me. . . that you have been terrorizing your cousin . . . you have been assaulting his body with terror just because you got mad and jealous?”

She remained silent.

Baelor turned around and reached for her nightgown robe and threw it at her. “Put it on.”

“Father no.”

“Put it on. You are going to tell this to your mother this . . . and the king and queen.”

“Papa please, not the King!” Vaera’s voice cracked, entirely.

“Put the damn robe on Vaera.”

“Please, I will tell Mama, anyone you ask. I’ll tell Daeron . . . you’ll help me tell Uncle Maekar . . . I will take whatever punishment you give me but not grandmother and gradfather . . . he will neb so disappointed. Grandmother . . . they will look at me the same way you are looking at me now!”

“You should have thought of that, Vaera,” Baelor said, and his voice had gone flat again, stripped of everything- frustration maybe, before you decided your cousin’s body was a fitting answer to your jealousy. This is not longer a matter for this family along to quietly absorb, Vaera. A prince of the blood was harmed, deliberately, by another princess of the blood. That is a matter for the Crown, whatever else it is. Your Uncle Maekar loves and adores you but this . . . I do not know how he will react because you played your vengeance with his son, and with his heir. Daeron’s blisters and his area are extremely sore . . . for fuck’s sake Vaera . . . you think that I as the King’s own Hand, could conceal such a thing to spare my daughter, his granddaughter comfort?”

“I . . . it is not about my comfort.”

“Is it not? Then why the guilt . . . you made yourself sick with your own guilt . . . you spent this entire conversation explaining why you were owned, why his cruelty earned yours . . . Put your shoes on. “It is a long walk to you grandmother’s solar and I’ll not have you catch a chill besides everything else tonight!”

He opened the door, and told the guard on Vaera’s door to tell his wife to meet him in the queen’s apartments at once, no delay and to tell the king and the queen that he needed to seen them now. For her, the hall was empty. Vaera slid her feet in her slippers and stayed silent, not trusting herself to argue further. Baelor usually offered his arm to walk with her, but he did not soften the walk this time. Whatever comfort he had given to her gone.

Vaera looked back at him. “Will you still love me after tonight?” Baelor did not answer at first. They walked several more steps before he spoke. “You are making it really hard, Vaera, but no. I do not intend to start tonight. But loving you does not mean I can or will protect you from what comes next. I want you to know before we reach that door: do not expect me to say a single thing to soften whatever is coming for you, and trust me. Your mother and grandmother will want to have your head for it.” Baelor said. “And your Uncle Maekar . . . you better be at the Sept and claim sanctuary because I know my brother and . . .you have set the seven hells loose on yourself!”