do you think anything changes in a iceflamespring au with dragons (also find it funny that ls name is first in this pairing) and i was wondering which dragon you think valarr would have gotten
You’re their alpha and they’re your two pretty twinks 🙂↕️
In the early days I said Tessarion for Valarr, I believe, but honestly now I would say Vermax. And that's because I had this very specific idea how that would go:
Vermax, as we know, is Jacaerys' dragon. In canon, Jace dies during the Dance (rip king, love you </3). And Vermax, his dragon, goes feral with grief.
By the akotsk timeline (so, about 130 years post-Dance), Vermax is still alive. Still at Dragonstone. And according to my headcanon, he's even meaner than before. Ill-tempered. Vicious. Refuses human contact. Snaps at dragonkeepers. Hasn't let anyone near him since Jace died. He's been grieving for over a century and he's made it everyone's problem.
The dragonkeepers have basically given up on him. He's fed from a distance. Left alone. Considered too dangerous, too unstable, too broken to bond again.
And then young Valarr Targaryen walks into the dragonpit.
Here's what I think happened: Valarr looks like Jacaerys. He looks like Jace reborn. Dark hair (brown-black, the kind that's definitely not Targaryen silver but could pass for Strong bastard colouring if you're being cruel about it) except for that one distinctive white streak that catches light like a knife slash. Mismatched eyes, one darker than the other, heterochromia that makes him instantly recognisable. The Dornish warmth in his skin from his father's line. He's beautiful in that specific way Jace was beautiful. Like he knows he doesn't look the way a Targaryen prince should but he's trying very hard to be good anyway.
The resemblance is uncanny. If you put a portrait of Jace next to Valarr, you'd think they were brothers. Cousins at minimum. The same dark hair, the same build, the same earnest set to the jaw like they're both trying to prove something. Valarr even has Jace's energy. That golden-hearted, duty-bound determination with an edge but desire to be good despite everything. At least at first.
So Valarr walks into the pit. He's there for his first official bonding attempt (he's sixteen or seventeen, similar age Jace was when he died). He's nervous. Trying not to show it. Baelor is watching from the gallery, proud and worried in equal measure.
And Vermax, who's been snarling and snapping at every human who's come near him for 130 years, goes very still. Lifts his head. Stares.
The dragonkeepers freeze. This is new. This is wrong. Vermax doesn't look at people. He threatens them.
Valarr, who doesn't know any better, takes a step forward. Vermax makes a sound. Low. Uncertain. Not a growl. Almost a whine.
And then he moves. The keepers shout. Baelor stands. Valarr freezes... and Vermax crosses the pit floor in three strides and presses his great head to Valarr's chest. Gentle. Desperate. The way he used to greet Jace after long separations. The rumble that comes out of him isn't aggressive. It's relieved.
For a handful of heartbeats, Vermax thinks his rider has come back.
Valarr, shaking, lifts a hand. Touches warm green-bronze scales. "Hello," he whispers.
Vermax keens. High and broken. Because the boy is not Jace. He's not. The scent is wrong. The voice is wrong. But he's close. Close enough that Vermax, who's been alone for longer than any dragon should be alone, decides: close enough.
The bond forms. The dragonkeepers stand there, stunned, as one of the most vicious dragons in the pit bows his head for a boy who looks like a ghost of another prince.
Vermax is old, but not ancient. He's around 150 years old. That's peak power for a dragon. He's past the rapid growth phase but not yet into the slow decline. He's large. Not Vhagar-large, not Caraxes-large-but-make-it-serpentine, but solid. Intimidating. A hundred feet of green-bronze muscle and rage.
He's experienced. Vermax fought in the Dance. He survived the Gullet (Jace didn't, but the dragon did). He knows battle. He knows death. He's killed other dragons. He's dangerous in ways that go beyond size.
A century of grief has made him foul. He doesn't trust easily. Doesn't like other dragons. Snaps at keepers. Territorial. Possessive of the few things he allows himself to care about. And he's bonded to Valarr out of desperation, not love. At first. The bond isn't what it was with Jace. Can't be. Jace was his first. His true rider. Valarr is... a replacement. A placeholder. The best Vermax can get.
But over time, it deepens. Valarr is kind to him. Patient. Talks to him. Cares for him. Doesn't try to make him forget Jace. Just offers himself as he is. And slowly (very, very slowly) Vermax starts to love him for himself, not just as an echo of someone lost.
If we're putting dragons-survived-the-Dance Caraxes next to Vermax, here's what we get:
Caraxes is older (nearly 200 by akotsk timeline), smaller than Vermax in bulk but longer (that serpentine build), far more experienced in battle (fought in the Dance, killed Vhagar, survived), bonded to Aerion who is sharp and vicious and matches his energy. Caraxes likes you immediately because Aerion likes you and the bond doesn't lie. He's territorial, possessive, but from a place of certainty. You're his rider's, which makes you his, simple as that.
Vermax, on the other hand, is younger (150ish), larger in bulk, more traditionally powerful, experienced but bitter about it (lost his first rider, never got over it), bonded to Valarr who is earnest and trying so hard to be good. Vermax doesn't like you at first because you smell like Caraxes and Caraxes is a problem. He takes FOREVER to warm up to you, but once he does, he's worse than Caraxes about the possessiveness.
The first time you meet Vermax, he hates you. Nothing personal. You just smell like Caraxes. You've been in the meadow with Aerion and his nightmare wyrm, and the scent clings to you, and Vermax takes one whiff and snarls.
Valarr goes white. "Vermax, no—"
You freeze. This dragon is huge. Easily twice Caraxes's bulk, even if he's shorter in length. Green-bronze scales catching torchlight, eyes like old amber, teeth bared. He looks like he wants to bite you.
"I'm sorry," Valarr says quickly. "He's—he doesn't like other dragons, and Caraxes—"
"I understand," you say calmly. You don't back away. Vermax's eyes narrow. You're not running. Interesting.
It takes weeks before Vermax lets you near him. And even then, it's grudging. He tolerates you because Valarr clearly cares about you, and Vermax has decided (reluctantly) that he cares about Valarr.
But the shift happens slowly: you bring him food once, not trying to feed him, just leaving a sheep carcass near his preferred corner of the pit because you noticed the keepers are afraid of him and he's been underfed because of it. Vermax eyes you suspiciously. Sniffs the carcass. Eats it. The next time you visit, he doesn't snarl.
You don't push. You let him come to you. Sit in the pit with Valarr and just... exist. Read. Talk quietly. Ignore the dragon watching you from across the chamber. Vermax appreciates this. He's been pushed at for 130 years. You're the first person who just lets him be since Valarr.
The first time you touch him, it's an accident. You're reaching past his neck to hand Valarr something and your hand brushes green-bronze scales. Vermax goes still. You freeze too. Wait for the snap. It doesn't come. He just... watches you. When you pull your hand back slowly, he makes a low sound. Not quite a growl. Not quite approval. Considering.
You start talking to him the way you talk to Caraxes. Straightforward, no coddling. "You're being an ass today, aren't you? Yes, I can tell. Valarr's trying very hard and you're making it difficult." Vermax likes this. Likes being spoken to like he's intelligent, not a beast to be managed.
By the time Vermax actually accepts you, it's been months. And when he does, it's sudden: you're in the pit, Valarr is adjusting the saddle, Vermax is drowsing, you walk past the dragon's head without thinking, and Vermax reaches out. Nudges you. Gently. With his snout. The way he used to nudge Jace.
You stop. Stare. Slowly, carefully, lift a hand. Touch his jaw. Vermax purrs.
Valarr, behind you, makes a choked sound. Drops the saddle strap. "He's never— not with anyone but me—"
You scratch under Vermax's jaw. The dragon's eyes half-lid. The purr deepens.
"I think," you say quietly, "he's decided I'm acceptable."
Once Vermax decides you're his (his rider's, his hoard, his to protect), he's unbearable about it. Caraxes is possessive, yes. But Caraxes is possessive from a place of certainty. He knows you're his. He's smug about it. He purrs when you're near.
Vermax is possessive from a place of loss. He lost Jace. He will not lose you or Valarr.
He refuses to let Caraxes near you when you're in Vermax's territory. If you visit Valarr in the pit and Caraxes can smell you from three chambers over, Caraxes will try to come see you. Vermax will scream. Wings mantled. Claws out. No. MINE. Get your own.
He follows you. If you're walking through Dragonstone (or wherever the dragons are kept), Vermax will track you from inside the pit. You can hear him pacing, keeping time with your footsteps overhead. Valarr finds it endearing. You find it unnerving.
He growls at Aerion. Just. Constantly. Aerion will be standing next to you, making some cutting comment, and Vermax will growl from across the pit. Low. Steady. I see you. I'm watching. Don't try anything.
He will not let you fly Caraxes if he knows about it. You tried once. Vermax lost his mind. Screaming. Thrashing. Valarr had to physically calm him down. Through the bond, Valarr felt: SHE IS OURS. NOT HIS. OURS.
But here's the thing: Vermax is possessive, yes. Territorial, yes. But he's also protective in a way Caraxes isn't. Caraxes protects you because you're his. A treasured, precious thing. Vermax protects you because he can't lose anyone else.
When someone threatens you (verbally, physically, doesn't matter), Vermax moves. Puts himself between you and the threat. Wings spread. Neck arched. The message is clear: I have lost too much. I will burn the world before I lose her too.
And that's when you realise: Vermax doesn't love you the way he loved Jace or Valarr. But he loves you the way a dragon who's grieved for 130 years loves the few things he allows himself to care about. Desperately. Irrevocably. Without compromise.
If you thought Caraxes hating Vermithor was bad, wait until you see Caraxes vs. Vermax. These two dragons DESPISE each other.
From Caraxes's perspective: the green one is IN THE WAY, the green one carries the WRONG prince (the guilty, soft one, the one who keeps looking at her like he has rights), the green one snarls at him (HOW DARE HE), the green one is YOUNGER and LARGER and Caraxes is OFFENDED by both of these facts, and she pets the green one and Caraxes can smell it on her when she comes back and it makes him FURIOUS.
From Vermax's perspective: the red one is DANGEROUS, the red one's rider is DANGEROUS (sharp, cruel, the wrong kind of Targaryen), she smells like the red one ALL THE TIME and it's WRONG, the red one is older, more experienced, bonded to someone who knows what he wants (Vermax's rider is still guilty and conflicted and it's EXHAUSTING), and the red one won and Vermax HATES that he won.
The result is that they can't be in the same sky, they can't be in adjacent pit chambers, if they see each other they fight, Aerion and Valarr have to coordinate their schedules to avoid overlap, and you're caught in the middle, smelling like both of them, and both dragons are furious about it.
The first time you fly with Valarr after having flown with Aerion the day before, Vermax can smell Caraxes on you. He refuses to launch. Just sits there, growling. Valarr is mortified.
"I'm so sorry, he's being—"
"I know what he's being," you say tiredly.
You have to wash before Vermax will let you up. Even then, he grumbles the whole flight. Aerion finds this hilarious.
"My dragon has marked you. Yours is just going to have to cope."
Valarr looks miserable. You look at both of them and think: I'm going to be killed by jealous dragons and no one will be surprised.
But here's what changes with time: the dragons start to tolerate each other. Not quickly. It takes months. Maybe longer. But they're both Dance survivors, both riders of Targaryen princes, both bound to the same impossible girl through their riders. And eventually, grudgingly, they start to accept what their riders have already figured out: they're going to have to share.
Key word: try.
They try to share you. Vermax hates it. Caraxes hates it. But they start to manage brief periods in the same space without immediately trying to kill each other because it upsets you which upsets their riders. You can visit both in the same day without one of them losing their mind. Aerion and Valarr can be in the same room as you without their dragons screaming three floors down.
It's not peaceful. There's still growling. Still territorial displays. Still moments where one dragon decides the other has gotten too much of your attention and needs to be reminded of boundaries. But it's... manageable. Barely.
And then something shifts.
Because the dragons realise something their riders realised long before them: there's one thing they agree on. One thing that matters more than their rivalry, their jealousy, their territorial bullshit.
You're their riders. No one else's.
Some lord makes a comment about you in the yard. Something dismissive. Crude. The kind of thing that would normally just get him a cold look.
Both dragons scream. Simultaneously. From their respective nests.
The lord goes white. Aerion and Valarr, standing on opposite sides of the training ground, both feel it through their bonds. Their dragons' fury, sudden and unified. The keepers scramble. And when they get to the pits, Caraxes and Vermax are at their respective gates, necks arched, wings mantled, making the exact same threat display. Not her. Touch her and we BURN you.
It happens again. And again. Any threat to you (perceived or real) gets the same response from both dragons. Someone speaks to you too sharply in the hall? Dual screaming from the pits. A knight gets too close in the yard? Both dragons trying to break through their gates. Caraxes and Vermax spend three days doing synchronised threatening rumbles that make the entire keep nervous.
The dragonkeepers don't know what to make of it. Dragons don't cooperate like this. Don't share territory. Don't agree on anything.
But Caraxes and Vermax have discovered they have a common interest: you. And by extension, each other's riders. Because you love Valarr (even if you won't admit it fully). And you love Aerion (even if you're trying to fight it). And the dragons can feel that through the bonds.
Which means: Valarr is important to you, which makes him important to them. Aerion is important to you, which makes him important to them.
So when someone speaks ill of Valarr in the yard (some lord's son, drunk, running his mouth), Caraxes and Vermax both scream. When someone insults Aerion at a feast (calling him mad, unstable, dangerous), both dragons rattle their chains.
You're all a bonded shape. A strange, tangled, impossible shape. Two dragons who hate each other but love you more than they hate each other. Two princes who want you and are learning to exist in the same space without killing each other because you've made it clear: you won't choose. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And the dragons who share their riders' feelings and have decided, in their reptilian way, that if they can't have you separately, they'll have you together.
Caraxes still snaps at Vermax when the green dragon gets too smug. Vermax still growls at Caraxes when the red wyrm gets too possessive. They still can't be in the same sky without supervision. They still compete for your attention, your touch, your affection like greedy, dangerous cats.
But when an outside threat appears? When someone who isn't Aerion or Valarr tries to touch you, threaten you, take you?
The dragons are united. Absolutely. Unquestioningly.
Because you're theirs. Both of theirs. Their riders'. And anyone who doesn't understand that is going to learn it the hard way.
And Valarr, watching this shift happen, feels something change in himself too. He was guilty at first. Torn up about wanting you when Aerion wanted you, when he had no right to want you. He tried to be good. Tried to step back. Tried to let you go.
But then he sees Aerion with you in the yard. Sees the way Aerion makes you laugh. Sees his cousin's hand linger at your waist. Sees the way you look at Aerion. Hunger barely concealed, want you're trying to fight.
And something in Valarr just... breaks.
Shifts. Hardens. The guilt doesn't disappear but it gets buried under something darker, more selfish. He starts thinking: Why should I let him have you? Why should I be good when being good means losing you?
The change is gradual. Subtle at first. He stops apologising for wanting to be near you. Stops pulling away when you touch him. Starts touching you back: hand at your elbow, fingers grazing yours, standing closer than proper, whispering in your ear and calling you love.
He starts competing. Not obviously. Not the way Aerion competes, all sharp edges and deliberate provocation. But quieter. More insidious. He learns what makes you smile. What makes you soften. He uses it.
He stops feeling guilty about using it.
He watches Aerion steal you away for flights and instead of stepping back, he asks you to fly with him the next day. Watches Aerion bring you gifts and starts bringing you things too: books you mentioned wanting, flowers from the gardens, your favourite wine. Watches Aerion make you laugh and learns how to make you laugh harder.
Through the bond, Vermax approves. Finally. FINALLY. His rider is fighting for her.
And the worst part (the best part) is that it works. You notice. You notice Valarr changing, shedding that guilt, leaning into something darker and more certain. You notice him looking at you the way Aerion looks at you: hungry. Possessive. Like he's decided you're his and he's just waiting for you to catch up.
And you're drawn to it. To both of them. The sharp vicious certainty of Aerion and the dark, tender hunger of Valarr-who's-stopped-being-guilty. You're caught between them and you don't want to escape.
The dragons know. Feel it through the bonds. Feel their riders' want, your want, the impossible tangle of it all.
And they've decided: if their riders won't force you to choose, neither will they. You're theirs. All of theirs. The four of you bonded into something that has no name, no precedent, no rules.
