#targaryenoc

[thinkerbluerose]

“Lady Aelyn was born between the salt of the sea and a rain of stars in the sky.”

Drawn by persephone8583 on TikTok.

[puddingdemonlair]

~Princess Daenyra Targaryen; Princess of Dragonstone~ 🖤🐲👑 (+ silliness)

My much anticipated dance era girl is here!!! Can u tell she's my fav? Daenyra was my first ASOIAF OC so I have a lot of lore built up for her, hence my strong attachment lmao. Next up should be Visenya. We've seen a lot of her already, but a proper ref card wouldn't hurt. 💕💕💕

[sufferrbarbie]

TRUST IN ME I WILL RISE THROUGH THE FIRE IN THE SKY

King Maelor I Targaryen, first of his name (x)

[youngirlfrom]

MY ONLY DAUGHTER

| The true heir to the Iron Throne looked at the newborn baby in her arms with pure love in her eyes, "My only daughter, my sweet little girl. I will not let anyone touch even a hair of your hair. No one will dare to hurt you. I will ensure that their laughter spreads throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Your mother will be with you until her last breath, my beautiful Daena." said.

Although the laughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, Daena, spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, no one heard them as much as her cries of pain.

| the first chapters will be about the childhood of Daena and the others. |

chapter 1 | Queen's Delight

"I hope it's a girl," little Daena said as she gently caressed her mother's belly. There was a childish innocence in her eyes and a confident smile on her lips. "I don't want any more brothers. Boys are too loud and rude."

Rhaenyra laughed loudly at her daughter's words, her voice filling the warm atmosphere of the room. She reached out and caressed Daena's soft cheek. "If it's a girl, would you like to name her?" she asked.

Daena's eyes suddenly sparkled with excitement. She was practically jumping on the spot, and with her little hands clenched into fists, she let out a little scream of victory. "Yes, yes! I'd love to!" she shouted. "I want her name to be Daenys. It's almost the same as mine! That means she'll be different from me, but she'll also be mine."

Rhaenyra admired her daughter's logical yet childish way of thinking. "You'll be a wonderful big sister, Daena," she said tenderly, her hands running through her daughter's hair. Daena's hair was another subject of admiration for her. While her brothers Lucerys and Jacaerys had completely black hair, Daena's was a masterpiece with silver strands dancing in the black. And that single, bright wisp of Targaryen yellow… to Rhaenyra, it was a symbol of her daughter's unique heritage.

“But,” Daena said, suddenly serious, her brows turning into a thoughtful expression. "If it's a boy, I still want to name him."

"Really?" There was a secret curiosity in Rhaenyra's voice. "So, what do you have in mind, my beautiful girl?"

"Aemon," Daena said confidently. "It's not compatible with my name, but it's still a beautiful name. It seems like a strong and noble name to me. Besides, we'd be honoring my grand-grandfather's name, wouldn't we?"

Rhaenyra was surprised that her daughter made such a mature suggestion beyond her age. A caring smile spread across her lips. "Aemon is truly a beautiful name. Your choice is noble," she said, shaking her head slightly.

Meanwhile, the door slowly opened and one of the maids entered, embarrassed to have to interrupt this special moment between the princess and her daughter. "Princess, your lesson will start soon. We need to go," she said, bowing her head slightly.

Daena's facial expression changed suddenly. Her previous joy had given way to distress. “Mom,” she began, pursing her lips and putting a playful pleading tone into her voice. "I don't want to go. Can I skip classes for today, please?"

Rhaenyra was used to her daughter's dramatic behavior. But she still spoke gently and firmly. "You promised me that you would never neglect your studies, Daena. Do you remember?"

Daena thought for a moment and then frowned, "But if I leave, that stupid Aegon and Jace will make fun of me again!" she burst out. In addition to anger, a tear appeared in her eyes. "Only because I don't have a dragon! I don't have a dragon and they're throwing it in my face!"

Rhaenyra's heart sank. She knew how deeply her daughter felt the burden of not having dragons, which was the Targaryen inheritance. But she still spoke in a soft and supportive tone in response to her anger. "The next time Syrax lays an egg, you will be able to choose your own egg. It is your right and no one can interfere with that. I promise you."

However, these words did not satisfy Daena. "I don't want any eggs," she grumbled peevishly. "I want a dragon. Just like Dreamfyre! A big and powerful dragon!"

The little girl jumped up from the chair she was sitting next to her mother and headed towards the door with angry steps. Her small shoulders rose and fell angrily.

Rhaenyra let out a long sigh after her daughter. She knew that Daena's anger wasn't just about not having a dragon. Her siblings' mockery hurt the young girl's pride and damaged her self-confidence. But this stubbornness… this tough personality… Rhaenyra paused for a moment and muttered to herself with a genuine smile, "I don't know whom she got this stubbornness from.."

Then, as she ran her hands over her growing belly, her thoughts turned back to her unborn baby. "I hope you won't be as stubborn as your sister, little thing," she said fondly.

Her fourth pregnancy was more difficult than her previous three. Fatigue took over her body, but despite this, she couldn't wait to hold her little baby in her arms. There was hope in her heart. Just like Daena said, a cute baby girl never hurts. But it didn't matter if he was a boy. The important thing was that they would bring new light to her family.

Rhaenyra fell into daydreaming while caressing her belly. Maybe this could be an opportunity for the baby family to come together. Maybe their children would finally be proud of each other instead of competing with humans. Time would tell.

First of all, this fiction was created with components from both the book and the series. I am neither green nor black. I prefer to love the characters individually instead of keeping a team. I hope you like my fiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to point out my mistakes and ask anything you want.

Daena Velaryon is the second child and first daughter of Rhaenyra and Leanor. So she's only a year younger than Jace. Of course, just like her siblings, she grew up with questions about her 'true blood' for years. And like Aemond, she had no dragon, so she also became an object of ridicule.

That's it for now and I can assure you that Daena will not be riding Cannibal. You're welcome 😽

I also publish my fiction on Wattpad! You can also reach me there with the same name!

[that-onecrow]

There's bloodraven, shiera (first attempt anyway-), and an OC named rhaegal on the bottom. Bloodraven just looking that way makes me giggle

We shmoovin through them. I actually did finish this piece already but I'm still gonna send it out in small bits

I liked using less lines for most of the hair because it ended up allowing me more freedom with the shapes and how they drapes

[tiredbutthrivingfaequeen]

Here we go lads, part 2.

Lyonel Baratheon x Deria Targaryen (ofc)

Warnings: typical GoT world sexism, cursing, spoilers if you haven't seen the show (but come on, if you're reading this before doing so that's on you baby). There will be violence and sex and all that jazz later on so if you are under 18 BUGGER OFF (please). I have realised this may be a slow burnish fic so stick with me.

Disclaimer: the same as last time, but im gonna say it again because I fear the people, I don't own A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms just this little story woven into it.

Tag List: @fullmetalavatar54, @a-sunflower-in-bloom

If you wanna be added, let me know in the comments! If you have already asked i have missed you, please tell me again. I am very small and very tired and very not good at thia stuff 🤷‍♀️

~Where Loyalty Lies~

Part 2:

*Dunk pov*

He must be stupid. Or mad. Maybe both. How he had let the princess convince him, he really couldn't say. He thinks maybe it was her dark eyes that did it. Or maybe her pretty smile. Or maybe he felt sorry for her. A bloody princess of all people. Someone who was supposed to have the world in her hands. Someone who would never know the hardships people like he had ever faced.

And then he remembered where it was he was walking to….oh fuck. Lyonel. How was he going to explain this…

Dunk eyed the young woman walking by his side. She had managed to find what looked to be very old and very dusty men's riding clothes. Perhaps belonging to a stable boy. She had promised Duncan that she would wash them and put them back with a thank you note. From what he has thus far learnt of Princess Deria, she will probably do it. Would she be kind to Lyonel? His friend had not spoken much of her since he stormed out of the tent evening last. This morning Egg had urged Dunk not to bring it up again, he had heeded that warning. But now Dunk was basically about to throw Deria in Lyonel's face. Would they argue? He groaned to himself, rubbing his forehead.

Deria frowned, “what ails you Ser?”

Dunk sighed, “I think I may have agreed to something tha’ will cause a lo’ of trouble.”

*Deria pov*

She was going to question further just as a small figure ran up to Duncan, made a choking sort of noise, then tried to scurry off.

But the knight caught him, “m'lady this is Egg, my squire.”

Deria felt her insides flip as she took in her cousin. Egg, which had been his nickname for many years, suitably matched him now. She blinked down at him and he up at her.

"Egg,” Duncan muttered, “this is Princess Deria, I told you abou’ ‘er. You can’ say nothin’. We are to accompany ‘er aroun’ the tourney today, alrigh'?”

Egg swallowed and nodded quickly, “of course. I-i would bow but-”

"Do not give me away, Egg,” Deria said slowly, “we all have our secrets.”

They stared at each other. For what must have been a longer time than she realised because Ser Duncan was clearing his throat awkwardly.

"A-anyway,” he turned fully to the boy, “I think we should change our morning plans, Egg,” he gave her cousin a pointed look that she definitely caught.

Deria should not be angry with her cousin. He seemed to be up to the same sort of shenanigan as her. But her Uncle Maeker had been so worried. And Egg would surely know Dearon's whereabouts as well. She ought to put this all to rest, take the boy by the ear and drag him to her father. However…

"Please do not change your day for me, I am happy to follow you both wherever you go,” she said brightly, smiling up at the knight.

The tops of Duncan's ears turned pink and he shook his head, “well, I…the thing is-”

“If her grace does not want you to change your plans, Ser, then best you keep them,” Egg urged politely.

Duncan shook his head but did not argue, he seemed resigned to his immediate future. They started walking again. She wanted desperately to get Egg alone and ask what in the Hells he was doing.

They had turned down a merchant lane, stands of all sorts of goods for sale. She paused at a table filled with wooden artwork. Little wooden figures of animals and dolls. She did not want to risk being recognised so asked Ser Duncan if he might use her coin to buy something-

“For my younger cousin, Aegon.”

Egg froze on the spot, not meeting her eyes. Duncan nodded and muttered an of course before taking her purse and greeting the salesman. Deria took her chance and pulled Egg back just enough.

“What are you doing!?” She practically hissed.

Egg pulled out of her grip, “seems to me we are doing much the same.”

"You have been missing for days now, your father is sick with worry!”

Egg seemed a little shamed by this but did not relent, “I will not squire for Dearon. He does not want to be a knight. Or anything close! And I cannot squire for Aerion. I just-”

Deria held up a hand and nodded, “I would never put you in such position… but how have you come to squire for a hedge knight?”

"It is a long story.”

She sighed, “you best tell me sometime soon, if you want me to keep your secret.”

"I will.”

Ser Duncan came back with a beautifully carved Stag. It was stained a bright white and gleaned in the sunlight.

"Subtle,” Egg chirped.

“It was the nicest looking…” Duncan explained, handing the purse and toy to the Princess.

Deria smiled, “you have done well, he will love this.”

The praise seemed to boost Duncan's confidence and his stature was a little bit straighter as they made their way through the crowd. They asked if Deria wanted to look at anything else but she declined. She was just happy to be with them, walking and talking as if her heart was not pumping that of a dragon. Towards the end of the lane, however, Duncan did seem to be stalling. Pointing out things far too obvious and far too boring.

"Alright, this cannot be what you planned for yourself today. So stop your stalling.”

Duncan blushed, “it is just…”

A roar of laughter erupted behind the three of them. Deria turned around and was met by a rather large tent. From the look of the many stags embroidered on the canvas, it belonged to a Baratheon. She looked down at the toy stag in her hands. She hid the figure under her cloak. Her chest felt a little tight, almost as if something was telling her not to go in. But her stomach grumbled at the same time and Deria was not one to argue with her stomach.

“It sounds like people are feasting within, perhaps we can join?” She asked Duncan.

Before he could stammer out any explanation, Egg stepped forward, “Ser Duncan is close with Ser Lyonel, we have eaten at his table before. He would welcome us to luncheon.”

Duncan looked as if he could throttle Egg, “But-”

“Very well, if you are friends then so be it. If I do not eat something now, I assure you I will be very different to the woman you have come to know,” Deria walked to the tent entrance and signalled for them both to follow with her head.

From what Deria knew of the Baratheon House and Stormlanders, she was not shocked at the chaos within the tent. People were eating, drinking, dancing in ways she had never witnessed. And they all wore bright smiles. Eyes wide with cheer. The music sounded a little strange but she welcomed the steady beat of it.

Duncan guided her to a table and muttered something about going to fetch ale. She sat with Egg and peered around. She caught sight of Duncan speaking to a man near the middle of the tent. The stranger's back was to her but she could see his wild head of hair and finely stitched golden tunic. Duncan's face fell and he stepped back from the man sheepishly. The stranger turned then, dark eyes immediately finding her own. Deria looked away quickly, tugging her hood closer to her face. Although, like her father and brothers, she possessed more Dornish qualities than Valeryan, she did not want to chance being recognised.

A full cup of ale was placed in front of her, just as the seat opposite her was occupied, “well, this is certainly an odd greeting of friends.”

Deria swallowed, slowly meeting the man's eyes. Perhaps if he did not look as if he had recently eaten a bad fish pie, he would be handsome. His skin kissed by the sun, hair tousled as if he had been standing on a ship's deck and facing a wild sea.

Deria then turned and looked at Duncan, who stood by her awkwardly.

"Ser Duncan told me who you are, yes. But any fool should be able to tell really. You do not wear smallfolk well,” the man eyed her outfit.

“Forgive me,” Duncan began, “I-”

“No,” the man held up a hand, “do let the Princess explain herself.”

Deria raised an eyebrow at the stranger, “if you know who I am then I have nothing to explain.”

The man looked taken aback, “nothing to explain? There is plenty for you to explain, and I demand-”

“You will demand nothing of me, Ser,” Deria saw his eyes widen at her tone, “how dare you speak to me this way? We have not even been introduced!”

He blinked at her, a crease forming in his brow. He did not speak then, he just stared at her.

Egg cleared his throat, “Ser Lyonel of House Baratheon, your Grace.”

Deria nodded, “very well, Ser Lyonel. Well met,” her tone slick with sarcasm.

Ser Lyonel's face blanched, “you… you do not remember…?”

Suddenly Deria's face fell and she forgot her anger. Her body felt restless as it did any time someone asked her that same question. Do you remember? Do you not recall?

"Remember what?” she did not mean to let her words wobble so.

None of them spoke. Deria felt Aegon squeeze her hand under the table. Duncan had finally taken a seat, on Deria's other side. All three stared at Lyonel for what felt like a long time. Before the man stood up and without saying a word, walked back to the main table.

“Why did you have to go and tell him?” Aegon hissed at Duncan.

"I thought he ought to be aware…” he sighed.

“What are you both on about??” Deria snapped.

Neither spoke, Deria did not know Ser Duncan well enough but as soon as she had the chance Deria would interrogate her cousin. Deria eyed Aegon a moment longer before deciding to forget about it all. She would not let this Lyonel Baratheon ruin her chance at a good day. Today she was free, or rather she felt free. Unlike other meals where her dress was far too tight and she only ended up picking at her food, today she could eat like a man. Deria was proud to say she had seconds.

“You've go’ to ‘eep your strenmf up!” Dunk said approvingly through a large bite of bread.

Slowly the tent was emptied, people thanked Lyonel before departing. She would ask Dunk to do so on her behalf. Deria had spent luncheon catching the man's eyes before frowning at him and turning away. Really, her Septa would be appalled at her lack of manners.

Eventually a young lordling announced that the melee was about to start. Those left within the tent dispersed rapidly, excitedly discussing which side they thought would win. Egg seemed to want to join but Dunk hadn't moved, neither had Lyonel.

“Is this not something you wish to see? Or be a part of?” She asked Duncan.

"I'ma hedge knight with no house, a melee is combat for those with many knights to represent their lord.”

A loud scoff drew their attention to the head table. Lyonel sat back, relaxed, with his feet crossed at the ankles and hands behind his head. Deria realised then that it was he and the three of them left alone.

He seemed pleased to have their attention and smirked, “I would not call it combat.”

Deria stood from her chair to see him better, “then what would you call it, Ser?”

Lyonel's eyes flickered over her person, “I call it play. Pretend battle. Two sides fighting with sticks until one side is more tired than the other.”

"And you do not count that as combat?”

“No,” he laughed as he spoke, “I do not.”

She found herself in front of his table, arms crossed, “so you only value sport that ends in blood?”

"This is a tournament where knights are expected to test their mettle. I only fight when there is a challenge. Where a broken limb or two is expected, if not promised.”

“Perhaps,” Deria shrugged, “or perhaps you only want to participate in sports where you are the centre of attention?”

Lyonel rose to his feet, “I am always the centre of attention, your Grace, no matter the event.”

With that stunning smile and those cheeky eyes...she believed him “very well, show me.”

[thinkerbluerose]

OC X Cannon

Drawn by yumiartx

[sufferrbarbie]

daughter of death, slayer of lies, bride of fire, child of three (x)

(…) how I would like to have wings— blue ones— ribbons of flame. How I would like to open them, and rise

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Mary Oliver, from Spring Azures in “New and Selected Poems: Volume One”