Summary: Reader is the daughter of Torrhen Stark (The King Who Knelt) and becomes the third wife and Queen to Aegon the Conqueror. Her first visit down south to meet the Targaryen King is one that leaves the young wolf to question everything. She comes to realise only one thing: Starks don’ t cope well down south.
The Pact of Ice and Fire
She was the daughter of The Last Northern King to ever exist: a house who’s history went back thousand of years. Her ancestors were Kings of Winter, old Kings who were forged from ice and cold as stone; they wouldn’t allow those to destroy them. She was a descendant of the great Bran the Builder, who helped during the aftermath of the Long Night.
When she had heard of conquerors who had came across the land: foreign invaders who had no ties to this land and were going through their way to unite 7 kingdoms under one rule, she and many of northern men were quick to show hatred towards this Targaryen King.
Her father however was someone who was built with honour, and when the day arose when the three Targaryen dragon riders came up to their own homeland, her father that day knelt to the so-called First Dragon.
That day when her father knelt down to Aegon the Conqueror, he had been a King, but when he rose, he was merely just a Lord.
There was no doubting that these three invaders could annihilate an entire house out of existence: she had heard stories of how fewer houses who had failed to keep out the dragons and their fire, but she had always hoped that her father would’ve been more strong in keeping them away from his land.
Starks were made of ice, and they wouldn’t melt even from candles, let alone from dragons flying high above in the clouds.
It was rather fitting how her father dealt with keeping the Targaryen’s side, and one she would never think could be possible. She was at the age for marriage, and although her other siblings had found suitable suitors, she had been left for many years.
It was only when her father suggested her to the most suitable and most powerful man in all of the kingdoms, the one who had come through and forged an entire country into one rule.
Y/N Stark had stayed level headed and calm, but she had lost most of her temper that night when she had been told the news by her father. Torrhen had said that his kin had wolves’ blood in them, but it was the youngest who had been touched with it the most.
Y/N was regarded by some as the fiercest of the children, and the one who needed to be trained into obedience. Some suggested the prospect of marriage would calm and control her more into a lady rather than beast, but Y/N knew that no man would be able to control the wilderness in her veins.
She was uncertain of her husband-to-be. Aegon was now a King, living and ruling under six kingdoms instead of seven, but he had built himself from nothing into being the first ever King to rule one country.
Although he had two sisters who he made his wives, the suggestion for a third was one that he didn’t disagree on, writing in a letter that ‘an alliance of the south and north would strength its ties in a longer time of peace.’
The morning after the news, Y/N had already begun saying her goodbyes, and before long, was being swept from part of the country down to the south, where she knew that her Stark and wolf ways, would ultimately bring her into tougher submission.
When she, her father and his bannerman had made it down south, she had never believed she would ever come down to see a capital being built. The Aegon Fort as it was being called for now, was still in works, but was far more grand and mesmerising than what she knew of Winterfell.
The journey down south was tiresome, long, perilous and boring, but with the sight of a magnificent fort being built, she found a part of herself being more nervous than ever before.
She had caught glimpse of dragons the first time she saw them that day in Winterfell, but she now saw how monstrous these creatures were when she saw them loom and circle around in the sky above.
Three of them, and yet the black one was the biggest. Black it’s scales were the colour of molten and it’s flames were apparently as dark as ash and smoke. It’s voice was thunderous and it made sure all could hear. Whenever this big beast flew over above, an entire city grew dark below.
Dragons and wolves do not mix and they never shall. Y/N had come to think as she had glanced to her father cautiously, but was greeting his men and himself to Orys Baratheon - Aegon’ s supposed bastard half brother.
Inside of the fort was just as marvellous and lavish as its outside appearance, and it did make her feel more nervous to see such a high seat, forged, melted and twisted from the blades of Aegon’s enemies.
Her meeting with the dragons were just as daunting as meeting those who rode them. Visenya was the eldest of the three: she had a harsh beauty to her and a serious side, she was just as much of a warrior as Aegon was.
Rhaenys, the youngest was playful, beautiful and impulsive, a more wild and lively side to her compared to her sister. Both women were taken as Aegon’s wives, as tradition in their culture of wedding inside their family, but more strange as the new King had taken up polygamy.
Whatever it was, Y/N felt merely disgusted: something she didn’t show when she stood beneath them and wasn’t deemed as ‘godly’ in their eyes.
“Lady Y/N, it is our great welcome to have you here.” it had been Rhaenys who had greeted her, gladded in black and red armour, she stood closest to her brother on the steps of the throne.
“Your journey must’ve been tiresome from what I can tell. But nevertheless, you look…. well. Orys was correct when they said Northern women had a certain beauty to them.” Her tone may of been playful, but there was so much more to it, and even her smile seemed false.
Y/N was quick to spot that it was all fake.
Although equipped with shyness and nerves, Y/N was quick to answer. “Am I too savage for your southern ways? I do apologise if my looks do look too monstrous Lady Rhaenys. I’m sure you can already agree for instance.”
She was a monster: they all were, monsters for coming over and tearing apart their lands and killing innocents for their own amusement, all for the realm.
Like their dragons, Rhaenys’ eyes flashed with flames, and as she took ferocious steps down towards her, her brother was quick to stop her advancements.
“I would watch your tone, Lady Y/N and remember where you are.”
Y/N had finally laid eyes upon her betrothed, a tall man that had finally stood from the throne of iron and swords. He was cladded too in black and red, a golden crown on his hair that matched his short-cut-silver-gold hair. The man held a well-known presence in the court and he was certainly the man Y/N had imagined.
Remembering her duties and courtesies, Y/N played by the rules, ignoring the glare of her father not too far behind her watching. Bowing her head and curtseying, she faked her smile.
“My apologies, my Lord. And I apologise to Lady Rhaenys-
“Your Grace.” Visenya was quick to correct, blunt and cruel her words were as sharp as a sword, similar to the one attached to her hip.
Y/N’s eyes glanced back and forth before she continued. “For my crude words. My journey here has been tiresome and long. I very much feel welcomed here in the presence of a mighty room.”
Aegon shifted, walking past his sisters as he came to stand metres above Y/N. “We feel most welcomed to have you here Lady Y/N. I do hope the fort will make you feel at home. Winterfell is in many ways, is more built grander in the eyes of all men.”
His eyes were a dark indigo, but compared to the sternness of Visenya and the rude japes from Rhaenys, there was enough genuine warmth coming from his eyes as he smiled down to her.
The man in front of me is more of an enigma than what these men think of him on the battlefield. Y/N thought, keeping her smile as warm as his. “I’m sure keeping warm down south will be easier say than in the north. It will be a lot to get used to. The Aegon Fort is as magnificent as I imagined it to be.”
“Well, you would be surprised I wasn’t the one who came up with the name.” His smile lit up across his handsome face, and Y/N’s own eyes lit up with the surprise that he could actually manage to joke even with more charisma than his youngest sibling.
Y/N smiled back, words rooted on her tongue but quick to please with the right things to say. “I’m sure you’ll be the one to come up with a better name, suited for this castle.”
Aegon nodded and laughed deeply, a fluttery feeling came from her chest as she couldn’t help but feel oddly weak at the knees. The Valyrian King looked more like a God than any man she had laid eyes on before. Handsome, he seems to hold more humour than these southerners.
Looking back towards Torrhen then back to her, Aegon continued with his humble voice. “Your father has reminded you of the day of our wedding?”
The wedding, she almost forgot about it in that second. She had thought of this as some meet-and-greet with a new celebrity and now, she remembered she would be spending the rest of her life here in this strange land, with a man she didn’t know, two sisters who hated each other and would hate her even more, and three dragons bigger than mountains.
She caught her breath, but Rhaenys’ giggle caught her off guard. “You northerners have different customs to those here in the new capital? Like the Night’s Watch, you say your vows to an old tree.”
I would oddly prefer to be swearing my vows for celibacy than for marriage. Y/N japed.
Visenya added. “Within a fortnight Lady Y/N, had you forgotten? That I believe will give you time to climatize to the south. Wolves prefer the cold than to the heat, not like dragons.”
“Wolves prefer the company of packs and their family,” Y/N spoke calmly to the oldest, “dragons don’t.”
“A union between a wolf and dragon. Seems almost poetic.” Orys joked, laughing as some of the Stark and Baratheon bannermen laughed together.
“Yes,” Aegon hummed in appreciation, shaking his head as if he had more to say. “A fortnight it is. We shall prepare when the time comes, for now… Lady Y/N, would you allow me to show you to your room?”
Y/N nodded, taking one last glance to her father for a while as Aegon led her down the unfamiliar and long corridors, darkly-lit with one or two candles. She watched his silhouette glow from the flames, and like the fire, she couldn’t help but stare at the back of him in wonder.
“I know you’re nervous, angry even.” His voice caught her off guard. “Leaving your home and family to marry some man you don’t know and travelling down south to spend the rest of your life here as Queen.”
“It was a bit of a surprise.” Y/N started slowly, shrugging her shoulders when he slowed to walk beside her. She could feel him staring at her. “But it was the duty to keep the peace between the north and south. An alliance that would help benefit us all.”
Aegon nodded, agreeing. “I hope you’re not afraid of me. I know my sisters are not the best people, nor can I say myself either, but I will try my best in making you feel welcomed, safe. That is all I ask my Lady.”
“Your Grace-”
“Aegon, when we’re alone. I’m not as cruel as Visenya.” He joked once again, and they shared a short laugh and smile between each other.
Since being so afraid of them all, Y/N felt her nerves fade, an appreciation for Aegon grow; she appreciated that he was putting in effort to make her feel more comfortable.
“This is yours, a bit small, but it will have everything you need.” Aegon said as they came to her room, the door even had the sigil of the two familiar houses joined together: the dire-wolf and three-headed dragon on a wooden field in the middle of the door.
“Thank you, it has everything I need and much more.” Y/N smiled, staring up slowly into the Targaryen’s eyes once again, and in that moment, she felt serene, calm to be there as she looked at him with such curiosity of what he was going to do next.
“For now, if you need anything, ask away.” He gulped, and for a second, she saw that his eyes looked quickly to her lips in that second.
Slowly, like a dream, Aegon bent forward, leaning down towards her a brought a soft but quick kiss to her lips. Warm like dragon’s flame, she felt her own body light up, lightning ignite her bones and core.
He pulled away, looking her way as he begun to walk back towards the throne room. Y/N smiled to herself, a hand to her lips where once the feverish feeling of his soft lips once pressed to hers.
And in that moment she begun to believe this union of fire and ice would definitely be poetic.
The Dragon and His Third Wife - Aegon I x Reader PT.2
This has been requested by the wonderful @writinginthestarlight, who asked so kindly for a part two. This second part will be longer, and the third post will be of the bedding ceremony. So, ENJOY!
PART 1 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4
A Union of Ice and Fire
The day had come when her wedding had arrived: a glorious day that was as warm as all the other days leading up to it. Her nerves had climatised and allowed her to adapt to the southern ways, yet she never seemed to ever climatise to the different climate, it had taken longer than expected, but Y/N Stark could safely say she had adapted well.
She had found her way around the Aegon For easily thanks to her new handmaidens, Alys and Helia, who had been there by her side to show her the ropes. They helped with everyday things; dressing her in the mornings, bathing and washing her and bringing anything she desired.
When she wasn’t with her handmaidens, she was more often in her room, dreaming of a time she had once been home in Winterfell; she found herself practising her needlework messily by the window. Unlike her older sisters, they were more nimble than her, whereas she had practised with her brothers with bow and quiver, on horseback where she felt most free, and where she could laugh and feel happy.
But now my family have gone, and father is only there to see me at my wedding, and they never shall see me again. She sighed, blinking back tears as she kept her attention on fixing a stitch. This is my home now, she reminded herself, and this where I shall stay.
In the run-up to the big day, she had tried her best avoiding the Targaryen siblings as best as she could, avoiding time in the throne room or to eat dinner with them. As much as she found it rude to avoid them, she had found this unfamiliar family of hers not something she could be happy associating herself with so soon.
But unlike the cruel stares of Visenya and the dirty looks from Rhaenys, Aegon had always been so kind to her, coming to see her and making sure she was okay. In the first days of being there, she had been surprised when the King had come to visit to her chambers so late at night.
That night they spoke about their days, their difficulties, hopes and dreams, and sometimes if she was found reading late by a candle, she would read to him, softly speaking each word as she spoke of tales of knights and their victories.
Aegon came every night after that, and she slowly enjoyed his company more and more, when she knew he would be least busy at night when he wasn’t surrounded by his council and sisters.
It was where she felt most at peace, and even serene, enjoying his company as she hoped he enjoyed hers.
The eve before her wedding, Y/N was found in a different place, this time her wedding was to take place in the ancestral home of Dragonstone; the place where once Aegon was just a Lord. Sitting on her bed by a candle lit, Y/N read of a tale so bittersweet it brought the same sadness to her mind.
A knock came from her door, and she pushed herself quickly off her bed, her soft Myrish nightgown flowing bare in the cool breeze, the floor chilled underneath her bare feet.
She was greeted once again by Aegon, two of his King’s guard standing either side of the door watching by as her husband-to-be smiled to her. “May I come in my Lady?”
Y/N smiled, giving room for him to enter as he shut the door. In the dimly lit room he looked hauntingly dashing, a glowing man that stood before her how she had imagined.
“Couldn’t sleep I assume?” He asked, turning to her, indigo eyes bright against the candle flame. “I suppose I had too much on my mind.” Y/N chimed, smiling up to him teasingly. “I could ask the same of yourself.”
Aegon chuckled nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp he took, as he stepped away from her. “I guess I could agree, tomorrow is a bit... exciting and I found myself rather restless.”
“I usually can’t sleep anyway, so you came at the right time.” Y/N smiled, walking towards the small table as she poured two glasses. Aegon watched with amusement. “You’ve been accommodating yourself with Arbour Gold? First time you took a sip of it, you turned your nose at it and said it tasted like sour milk.”
Y/N giggled, bringing the glass to linger at her lips, “I’ve gotten used to it, when all you’ve had is brown ale and mead your entire life, you will want to try anything different.”
She handed him a golden chalice, and he gladly took it from her, the two quietly drinking together in the comfortable silence. Finally with not even half of a cup finished, she found her cheeks flushed, head woozy, but she spoke.
“I think tomorrow will be most different for us both, but more natural for you. You’ve been married twice now and I, a girl of nine-and-ten, have never been with a man once, let alone kissed him as my husband.”
“I’ve kissed you, just not as man and wife.” Aegon hushed softly, circling an arm to put his glass down, and smoothly pulling her by the waist closer to him. “We can always... kiss again if that is to make you feel more comfortable. A final kiss before we are to be married in the eyes of the Gods and men.”
Y/N flushed hotter than a thousand suns, not realising her cup had been taken from her hand as Aegon pulled her closer, thumbing at her chin carefully as he knew how to soothe her.
Before he pressed his lips to hers, he looked sincerely into her E/C eyes, so deep the colour of purple she thought she would drown in them. He spoke softly to her. “I don’t want you to be afraid of what is to come of tomorrow... or of me, I don’t want you afraid of me.” He enveloped her in his warm arms, making her feel warm against the chill. Like their dragons, Targaryens were fire made flesh.
“I know, and I’m not.” She whispered, “I know what I must do, and it would’ve happened sooner. Regardless if I’m ready or not, I am doing what is best for the realm.”
“Forget the realm, think of yourself,” Aegon’s large hands came to hold her face carefully, “I’m not forcing this on you, and if you’re not ready, I don’t want you to feel forced-”
She hushed him with a kiss of her own to his lips, warm yet soft, she felt him hug her tight. It was the same, their kisses were always soft and short, yet each time brought excitement to her core.
He pulled away, looking into her eyes as she spoke. “I’m ready Aegon, I’m ready to be your wife, and your Queen.”
The Valyrian King smiled in relief, a fond look in his eyes as he gently led Y/N towards the bed. “Then perhaps in celebration between us, shall we celebrate by reading?”
“Of course, Your Grace, I would love to.”
The sun had shone brighter than a thousand diamonds in the afternoon of their wedding, the wind had blown a gale that night after Aegon had left before the early hours of the dawn. She had only just realised that in that moment, she would next see her King in front of a Septon. She never wanted it to arrive so soon.
Waiting patiently outside the doors to the large hall, Y/N soothed her dress fabric for the umptieth time, circling around when she tried to calm her beating heart.
I will become the Dragon’s third wife now, She thought, and no longer a Stark of Winterfell, but a wolf among dragons.
Her father had luckily left the room to come to collect her, a sad smile on his grey haired face. “Never did I think the day would come when you were to be wed, nor to a King.”
“Not your youngest and wildest child I assumed.” She mused softly. Torrhen smiled, quavering for a moment. He smoothed her hair, being careful not to mess her hairdo.
“Your mother will be so proud of you, if only she could see how beautiful you looked.”
“Oh, father,” Y/N tried not to cry, smiling back as she blinked back tears, “I wish mother was here and everyone else, I miss them so much.”
“And they miss you dearly too my dear.” He exhaled heavily, extending an arm for his daughter. “Are you ready?”
Y/N caught her own breathe, nodding finally, linking her arm with her father, the doors opening wide as the hall silenced to deafening.
In the shimmering dark candle-lit lights of the large hall, walked the young woman who walked down the path to the next stage in her life. Her dress took the sigil colours of her house: a deep grey winter dress with dark brown and blue furs that came around her neck and shoulders to resemble a scarf.
Down the path towards the front, all eyes were on her, some of pride, some of jealousy and leering, but all were uncertain when she saw the main three at the front.
Visenya and Rhaenys were cladded in glamourous red and black dresses, and Y/N was most surprised to see the oldest sister wearing something of silk instead of chainmail.
Those purple eyes watched her carefully: Visenya, cold and calculating, held no emotion on her face, her arms crossed as she was closest to the front. Rhaenys only kept a simple smile on her face, seeming almost bouncy on her heels as she caught eyes with the Stark, her smile turning into a smirk.
Near to the front now, Y/N looked to her handsome King, and truly, her breathe came out in shallow swallows. Aegon was beautiful as he always was, dressed in fancy garbs than if he was holding court. Like his sister-wives, he wore the colours of his house, with a three-headed dragon pin attached to his shirt. He stood tall and proud, his golden crown with seven rubies encrusted caught the light similar to his silver hair. His cloak was black, and dazzled with hundreds, maybe thousands of tiny red rubies, and Y/N thought they shone like specks of falling blood.
He was facing her, and his eyes held as much calmness as they usually did, but there was a hint of nervousness to them too. He kept a wide smile on his face, light blond stubble of a beard on his face, making his teeth sparkle.
Finally at the alter, Y/N’s father gave her hand a gentle squeeze and a kiss to her forehead before going to stand to the side where the sisters stood opposite.
The hall hissed to silence finally when everyone seemed ready.
“You may cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” The High Septon declared loudly to everyone in the room. Y/N caught glimpse of Visenya handing over the black and red cloak to her brother, who took it into his. She could only remember that the red was of the Targaryen banner.
Still in his eyes held amusement and happiness, Aegon gestured for her to turn around so her back faced him. He seems to know what he’s doing. She thought, blushing dutifully, obeying quietly in her heavy dress.
She felt the silkiness of the cloak come around her shoulders, Aegon’s hands coming around to secure it, giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze before she could react, everything was normal once again.
The High Septon greeted the hall with a booming, nasally voice. “Your Grace, Your Grace. My Lord and Ladies. We stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”
Y/N could feel her heart beating quickening in her corset, trying to calm her nerves as she was inhaling and exhaling slowly.
"Let it be known that Aegon of House Targaryen and Y/N of House Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”
"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."
The Septon brought the ribbon forth, and Aegon took Y/N’s hand, whilst the Septon wrapped the fabric around their hands joined in a knot.
He finally proclaimed. “Look upon each other and say the words."
Slowly twisting to face him, Y/N and her King recited their vows. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger...I am his/hers and he/she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."
Finally, the moment Y/N waited for and couldn’t wait to enjoy. Aegon announced proudly to the hall of many. "With this kiss, I pledge my love." He looked back to her, leaning confidently and quickly in to meet her lips, so passionately Y/N had never experienced this with him before nor expected him to do it.
The hall cheered with a loud roar, and Y/N thought she could hear the three dragons roar louder, and in that moment she knew they would love her as their newest Queen.
Now she would have to wait with the nerves of a waiting storm for the bedding ceremony.
The Silent Queen (Aegon I Targaryen x Targaryen! Reader)
Anon: Could you do a Aegon I x reader, where she is the youngest Targaryen and his third and beloved wife, being also the most calm and rational of the siblings, the only one besides Aegon able to mount Balerion (but she also has her own Dragon), and she give him two children, twins?
Admin: I will try my best to get most of these things right and what you wanted! I might change that instead of her being able to ride Balerion (because only a dragon can have one dragon rider and will not let any others ride them until their rider’s death) I will say that Balerion prefers her more out of the other two sisters, and would allow her to be close or to feed. But thank you for the request!
You knew since you were young that family mattered, that they mattered more than coin or power. Family was your strength; a strength that tied you all together.
You knew that you and your older siblings, your flesh and blood, were set for destiny since the moment you all took your first breathes into this bleak small world, but as you grew, you realised this world was much bigger.
You grew up your entire life on the small island of Dragonstone, the youngest daughter to Lord Aerion Targaryen and Valaena Velaryon; the youngest child who was born in the harshest winter, leaving you frail and smaller.
Although small and premature, you survived, with the fires within burning brighter and hotter than a thousand suns and hotter than dragon fire. You were deemed to be a survivor. Like those before you, your parents laid a dragon egg at the end of your crib: a golden flamed egg that shone like fiery coppers.
Similar to the fire within in yourself, the egg hatched, releasing the music of dragons into the air.
You had your siblings there surrounding you in your childhood. At least a year younger than your second sister Rhaenys, you had the best relationship with her and your brother Aegon.
Rhaenys was the most beautiful and impulsive, and you were always jealous of her looks even from youth and eyes she got the lustful eyes of many lords and their songs. You always prayed every night that you would grow to become a full woman with looks as desirable as Rhaenys. To you, you just seemed so… plain.
You and your siblings were all different in many ways, especially compared against you. Unlike Visenya who enjoyed fighting beside Aegon in training and Rhaenys enjoying music and dancing (and as much as she enjoyed flying with Meraxes, she spent the most time on her dragon compared to you three), you were more book smart: relaxed to a candle and book at night, reading on your knowledge and history of the continent close to you that you eventually learnt was called Westeros. There was no doubt you were called by those the more quieter of the bunch.
Visenya, your first sister and oldest, was the most stern, and frightened you most, and you always spent going back to Aegon for help when she was being mean. Rhaenys was the one who you spent with and enjoyed playing with.
’She’s too skinny and weak. The runt of the Targaryens.’ Visenya said one day, watching with cold eyes glaring your way. ‘She won’t always have you running to help.’
‘She’s my sister.’ Aegon always stood up for you, no matter the reason. ‘And I won’t stand to watch those of my blood torment her.’
That day forward, you looked up to your brother even more, promising him and yourself that no matter what, you would make it up to him.
Rhaenys was kinder: a teaser but she was never as mean to you as Visenya was. She was the one who always dared you to dragon races all around Dragonstone with your dragon Daelyx. He was a shimmery golden-fiery orange dragon with wings an orange-red that blinded those on the ground due to them catching the sun.
No matter how many times you raced, she always won.
When you were with Aegon, you always spent time telling him of what you learnt in your books, reading to him by the fires in the evenings with him listening intently.
You knew that when he was of age, he was to marry Visenya for duty, and deep down, there was a spark of jealously that raged in you. You loved Aegon, sadly more than a brother.
You were only one-and-ten when your father arranged a marriage proposal to your mother’s nieces’ son, a Valeryon that was a few years younger than you and with no interest to him at all.
You protested and complained, much to your dismay, but it seemed you were to be married to one of your closest relatives. When your father had died, Aegon came to rule the island of Dragonstone, and after first being married to Visenya, he shocked those by also marrying Rhaenys.
This shocked you even more: how dare Aegon marry both your older sisters but not you? What was wrong with you to not let him marry you? You were still young, but now, thanks to your luck, you begun to mature into a much more beautiful woman like Rhaenys.
Your hair was long just like your sisters: silver-blonde which you wore down curled with two singular braids tied together in the back. Your eyes were large and lavender; lighter in colour compared to the more common darker Valyrian purple eyes. You grew to be tall, fair and slender: around the same height as Rhaenys.
You caught the eyes of many men by the time you were nine-and-ten years old, bringing many men of your banners and those of the closest Valyrian roots were wanting your hand in marriage. But sadly to them, you still had eyes for one.
When Aegon was setting his eyes beyond taking over Westeros, you were there to be by his side mainly, telling him of the history of the seven separate kingdoms and who ruled them. You became soon someone he asked for advice from, more so then his warrior sister Visenya.
When Rhaenys noticed how close you were trying to get to with Aegon, she simply joked, smiling with a knowing look, but said nothing. You knew deep down she knew your plan.
If he was to become the King to all seven kingdoms, it meant that your sister would be queens, and you, would become a simple princess to Dragonstone or the ruins of someone’s lands. You were not destined to be some lady’s lord; to raise sons wouldn’t carry the blood of the dragon.
No, you were going to be the Queen, ruling beside your sisters and your King, and you were going to be Aegon’s wife.
When things begun to dwell and your hopes of marrying Aegon begun to fall with the months passing, you were surprised with the news from your brother when he announced to those close to him of your marriage.
To yours and everyone else’s surprise (save for Rhaenys), you were to marry Aegon after his conquest of Westeros had succeeded and he was King.
You couldn’t of been happier, and although it was not uncommon in Valyrian traditions for polygamy, you still pulled away your older brother to the side, questioning the decision.
He simply smiled. “If I am to be King, why can’t I make all my sisters my Queens?”
And so, the Conquest for Westeros went underway, and you were stationed with planning and strategizing with those like Orys and naval ships from House Valeryon.
Your golden flame dragon Daelyx was smaller than Meraxes but was quick in flight and spat out flames as bright as his wings. Flames so hot it could set alit an entire formation, horses and men combined.
You were found in the courtyard before your brother Aegon was set on course to Harrenhal to meet the Kraken King Harren the Black. Aegon found you situated feeding all four dragons, something he found most odd was that his own Black Dread, Balerion, allowed you to feed and stroke him.
He had a peculiar closeness to you, one that he didn’t have with their other sisters.
’He always seems to like you best.’ He startled you as you held your hand over Balerion’s snout hot under your touch. Dragons were fire made flesh like you and your family your father told you once.
’He always growled at Vis, huffed at Rhaenys, but did none of those with you.’ He walked over to both of you, stroking his dragon’s snout in thought.
’He seems to prefer me best, it seems.’ You smiled up to him, ‘They are smarter than to those of other men believe.’
He looked to you, a generous laugh came from him. ‘That is very true.’
You faced him properly, Balerion’s wings stretching in wait of his next flight. ‘Be careful brother, we may have won some of this land, but Harrenhal is mere indestructible.’
‘Not against dragon’s flame.’ He countered. ‘Travel safely when you go to take Storm’s End. Please little sister, you know I couldn’t bare to lose one of you.’
You hugged him tightly as he hugged you back, promises made between you two in promise of both of your returns. ‘Make sure Balerion gets some time to spread his wings, before you send him into chaos.’
‘The same with Daelyx. And make sure Orys doesn’t do anything reckless. You know how fierce he can be when it comes to war.’
The nights were perilous and long, but you managed to bind the bleeding wounds of Westeros into six kingdoms instead of the seven. Dorne was stubborn and tougher than the Targaryens believed they would be, but nonetheless, Aegon became King, and in his celebration, erected a large fort named after him.
A week after, Aegon was declared as King; First of His Name. You remember how becoming and handsome he looked, wearing a crown of seven rubies in his crown. He looked more like a God than man. And following his coronation, your wedding was held.
You were in a shimmery red dress with deep dark red rubies that matched his in his crown encrusted in your bodice: your dress one of the finest with such fine details, your hair long and flowing with your own crown put on your head.
A Queen I have become. You smiled as the High Septon and hall of men lords and ladies clapped. Long may we reign. It wasn’t long before the smallfolk gathering in the city begun giving you the nickname The Quiet or The Beloved Queen.
Whilst there were many rebellions and conquests underway during the early reign of Aegon, you were sure to try and give him many heirs. Strong sons for if Rhaenys or Visenya couldn’t.
Rhaenys had given birth to his first son, Aenys in 7 AC: a small fragile thing, but an heir. You were happy for your dear sister, and held the boy like he was your own.
You tried and tried with Aegon until finally you fell pregnant and the realm rejoiced, and you gave birth on Dragonstone in 9 AC to twins; a healthy boy and girl of silver-blond hair, lilac eyes and plumped fair skin.
You named the children accordingly to Valyrian traditions: the boy was called Daemion after your grandsire who died before you were born, but heard gallant tales of in your youth. The girl was called Daenella or as Aegon and you had come up with the creative nickname ‘Nellie’.
You thought you couldn’t be any happier, until your happiness slapped you back in the face when what happened a year later, pushed you into a state of despair.
Rhaenys was killed when Meraxes was shot out from the sky with a bolt to the eye thanks to the Dornish. That was when you believed the dragon within you had awoken, the same with your remaining siblings as you reigned fire below on their castles and lands.
Mourning took you and Aegon to the worst, you especially more, seen more in black than any other colour for the rest of your life. Your beloved sister, plucked from your eyes, leaving you with the eldest you hated even more.
As Daemion and Nellie grew, you forced them to spend as little time with their aunt, making sure they were with you or Aegon but never alone or away from guards to watch over them. They were also with Aenys a lot, playing and spending time together when you were busy to do so.
They had called you the Quiet Queen; the Beloved, but never the Queen who mourned.
------ A bit of an abrupt ending, but I’ve been trying to work on this for ages. This isn’t my best work, so I do apologise.
