THIS IS PRICE IN MY CURRENT FIC PLEASE SEND HELP (GONNA BE A COUPLE CHAPTERS IN)
AND SIMON HIS FIRST BOY
HIS SECOND BOY KYLE AND I HAVEN'T DONE JOHNNY (JOHN#2) YET BUT MY LORD AREN'T THEY PRETTY??
Anyway the kids are all dragonriders and this is the sketch of Kyle's very cunty pink she-dragon called Garrick that flips him over a lot
ANYWAY if you like house of the dragon/fire and blood/Call of Duty/how to train your dragon bridged with OCs this fic is most likely for YOU, go have a snoop!
Also a time lapse for you all from a couple days back of progress, currently sitting at nealy 11 hours working time
Here’s a quick sketch. Thanks for submitting a prompt! I think I’ve seen this head canon before and it’s really fun. Hope you like it and feel free to submit more suggestions ☺️
Imagine Aegon third wheeling with Ron and his twin, he only does if he doesn’t have a girlfriend at the moment;). Following them to their dates to hogsmeade and joining them for a butter beer. Dumb pup is oblivious to his sister’s pout until she has Helly or Aemond pulling him away.
He is so bad, usually taking Ron’s side in arguments because he never listens to his sister. Pulling her hair if she’s been talking to his brothers for too long:). The few times he does listen he actually follows through and doesn’t talk to Ron either, it pains him but he has to stick by her.
He’s a little leech when the holidays are around, sticking to her because she’s always invited to the borrow. It would be so cute since they’d share a room/bed like when they were younger, Molly would not trust her and Ron alone oopsie.
Oh he's such a big baby truly, and just follows her around...its why most of his girlfriends are found by his sister when she's had enough.
Ron thinks he's cute and he's used to sharing...his girl is not.
And now Aegon is snoring away in their bed as she cuddles up to Ron.
fall on me like night, chapter two- Basilisk Isles
“Forgive me, your Grace, I’d forgotten that everyone in your family had a reputation that precedes them.” Aegatha drawls.
“It’s not my fault to whom I was born.” Vhanda says stiffly. “Take it up with the gods if you have a problem.”
Aegatha sneers and Vhanda sighs internally- she shouldn’t be giving the shadowbinder ideas. Aegatha probably would challenge the gods, if she could figure out how.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
This is just a prologue of my upcoming multi-chaptered fanfic I call Ascension. It's a HOTD/Skyrim crossover in which Rhaenyra and Syrax find themselves in a strange land during a flight gone wrong. Rhaenyra finds herself embroiled in Skyrim's politics, Civil War, and a dragon invasion, but survives every challenge and becomes High Queen of Skyrim after she slew Alduin. This is an extremely rough draft in which Daemon finds her after years of searching.
He is currently going through a severe culture shock because he has never seen an orc or an elf before. Plus, he's finding out for the first time that his niece is already a Queen when she has an inheritance back in Westeros.
Some things to know before you read:
>Rhaenyra fought for the Imperials as she sympathized with Elisif and killed Ulfric, crushing his rebellion under her foot.
>Syrax is on High Hrothgar learning from Paathurnax. Rhaenyra is still her rider, but lately, Syrax has become bigger and more independent.
>Rhaenyra does not trust the Thalmor, but her household is diverse and she strives to undue certain harmful laws and permit Khajiit to be allowed within cities and towns. She also had a town built for the Argonians of Windhelm so that they might live in peace and ensured the Dunmer were treated far better than they were under Ulfric's rule.
>The four children are the orphans of Skyrim: Lucia, Alesan, Sofie, and Blaise. Rhaenyra took pity on these children and took them in as her wards. She gives them an education, food, and arcane lessons and prepares them to hold esteemed positions within her household once they reach age. The children are fiercely protective of their mentor.
>Rhaenyra wields a blade, but her gift lies in the arcane, and like Viseyna, she uses magic like a pro.
Please do not repost or reblog.
Prince Daemon's polished boots click-clicked against the highly polished floor. The chamberlain’s silken slippers squeak-squeaked along behind. The echoes of both snap-snapped from the glittering walls of the Blue Palace and around the great, hollow space, their hurry-setting lazy dust motes swirling through bars of soft light.
Daemon's travel boots, scuffed and supple from long use and dragon-riding, made no sound. This...this was the foreign land his niece had fled Westeros for. “Upon entering the presence of Her Excellency,” the chamberlain’s words droned out, “you advance towards her, without undue speed, looking neither right nor left, your eyes tilted down towards the ground and at no point meeting those of her Excellency. You stop at the red line on the carpet. Not before the line and under no circumstances beyond it but precisely at the line. You then kneel—”
“I will not kneel,” said Daemon not even bothering to grace the chamberlain as the man was queer in appearance with too-dark skin, ghastly glowing red eyes, and ears with sharp tips. A Dunmer. An elf. Grumps and Snarks come to life unsettling him in the worst possible way. But the elf was one of many of his niece's stranger subjects.
Lizardfolk, green people with tusks, furred cats that walked on legs, and golden-skinned elves with impossible beauty. Even the humans were exotic with their ability to use any weapon of their choosing and permit the women to fight alongside the men or defend their homestead.
The chamberlain’s dark head rotated towards him like an affronted bird's, a snarl upon his thin lips as he practically hissed at Daemon. “Only the heads of state of foreign powers are excepted! Everyone must—” “Rhaenyra Targaryen is my niece. I will not kneel.” The chamberlain's lips parted open in shock, his slight body quivered with outrage, but Daemon snapped over him, temper crackling. “By the Fourteen Flames! I have not seen my niece since she disappeared on her dragon! Her Excellency does not give a fuck whether a man kneels if he is her beloved kin. I am her uncle.” Two armor-clad guardsmen lifted their crossed halberds to let them pass, and before the chamberlain could announce him, Daemon shoved the double doors wide open. He was eager to greet his niece, eager to take her in his arms, eager to take her back home to claim her birthright and heal Visery's broken heart.
The hall beyond was cavernous, opulent, and grand with dragon banners and statues on either side like silent sentinels. Fit for the throne room of the most powerful woman in Skyrim. The throne room of the Red Keep was grand, but this rivaled that of the Red Keep. A thin black carpet stretched away down the mosaic floor, a red line at its lonely end. A high dais rose beyond it, a dozen men and shockingly women in full armor standing guard in front.
Upon the dais was a grand throne carved from raw ebony. Within the throne was his missing niece, Rhaenyra Targaryen High Queen of Skyrim...Slayer of Alduin...Dragonborn. She was dressed all in imposing black armor, but the severe look on her beautiful face was blacker and her hair was tied in a long braid with two loops on either side of her face. She has grown, Daemon thought, a curl of unease blooming in his stomach as she stared down at him as if he were a stranger and not the man who had spent years and gold to find her.
A peculiar and foreign selection of people, three scores or more, of all races, sizes, and shapes, knelt before Rhaenyra and her retinue in a wide arc. They carried no weapons now but Daemon guessed these fine men and women carried many. Despite their strange appearance, Daemon knew what they were. Killers. Soldiers. Hounds. All of them killers. Like him...and apparently, like his niece, too.
They say she kills dragons, that she devours their souls, and when she speaks, the ground trembles in awe of her Shout.
Daemon advanced towards the dais, without undue speed, looking neither right nor left. He passed through the half-circle of assorted couriers, noting four children almost close to adulthood, and stopped precisely at the line. He watched the still-annoyed Chamberlain stride past the guards and up the steps to the throne, leaning to whisper in Rhaenyra's ear, the four children watched Daemon with silent suspicion and Daemon noticed that each child had a weapon strapped to their waist.
Rhaenyra stared at Daemon for a long moment and Daemon stared back, the hall cloaked all the while in that oppressive silence that only great spaces can produce. “So it truly is him. Why are you not kneeling, Uncle?” “He does not kneel, apparently,” snapped the Chamberlain with heat. Rhaenyra waved his angry words away with a regal hand, each finger adorned with ruby and ebony rings that glistened in the light.
“Everyone else kneels. What makes you special, Uncle?”
“I am a Prince and your kin,” said Daemon.
“But you do not kneel.”
“Because we are family and I have spent years searching for my niece...for you.”
"Make him kneel!" snarled one of the children, a dark-skinned boy dressed in strange garb who made as if to grab the mace at his hip only for a girl, a brown-haired little thing, grab him gently by the wrist and shake her head, but her eyes were hard with fury on her Queen's behalf. "Peace, Alesan," Rhaenyra cooed, raising her hand to silence. "Daemon is my Uncle. He is stubborn but still blood of my blood and a dragon." The boy, Alesan, scowled and kept his peace, but still glared at him with a mutinous expression.
"Lucia, Alesan, Blaise, Sofie...return to your rooms and resume your lessons." The softness in Rhaenyra's eyes hardened and from a distance, dragons roared. "I will see to my Uncle...and inquire about the state of Westeros and its King...my father."
