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Aemma Arryn had been dead for less than one moon when it happened, late at night when no one thought to check the King’s chambers.
Viserys Targaryen dies from the cut of a blade, sliced cleanly across his throat as he slept. It was discovered by his daughter, early in the morning as she came to him for advice. Her scream echoed through the Red Keep, her hands clenched tightly around the King even as the guards tried to pull her away.
It is a grueling fate, murdered so young, in his own chambers, with the blade left carelessly on his bed and a window thrown open.
Perhaps it is a fitting end, written long ago by the Gods. It is a much more peaceful death than the one his good wife had suffered, cut and stretched open, drowning in her own blood as they pried a child from her womb.
Princess Rhaenyra is clad in mourning clothes when her uncle is crowned King, only a week later.
Daemon, to his benefit, wears no smiles and gives no speeches. He approaches her at the feast, the hall quieter than usual but filled to the brim with lords and ladies of high prestige.
He plucks the third wine chalice from her dainty hands, setting it on the table beside them.
“Your Grace.” Rhaenyra greets him, because he is King before he is her uncle.
He frowns uncharacteristically, the crown gleaming on his head when he pulls her away, the crowd opening for them.
“Princess,” he says when they are alone. “It is not in your nature to ignore your dear uncle.”
Rhaenyra snorts quietly, looking up at him as she does it. “You are King now, it is not proper to follow you everywhere as I once did.”
“You have never cared for what was proper.”
Rhaenyra flattens her lips, crossing her hands behind her back as she steps away from him slightly. Daemon seems the most confused he’s ever been. “Times have changed, uncle. My father has followed my mother in death and it seems I’ve been left alone.”
“Alone but with me.” Daemon says.
“Alicent says you are cruel, did you know?” Rhaenyra changes the subject, struggling not to fidget with her rings under his heavy gaze.
Daemon cocks his head and the crown catches light once again, reminding Rhaenyra of his position. “Perhaps I should have her tongue cut out, in case she ever forgets.”
“She is my one friend at court, uncle.” Rhaenyra bites out. “Do not make me even more miserable.”
Daemon regards her silently. “He wished for you to be heir, did you know?”
“What?” Rhaenyra is rendered speechless, dropping her hands to her sides.
“He did not have to tell me, I am his brother.” her uncle shakes his head, raising his hands to hold her face. “He wished for you to be Queen.”
“A girl has never been named heir.” Rhaenyra speaks quietly, leaning into his hands. They are calloused from years of dragon riding, but they are the only familiar thing she has left.
“You would have been the first.” Daemon tells her, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead gently. Rhaenyra sighs lowly, hands circling his wrists as her eyes gloss over once again. “You can still be Queen, Rhaenyra.” he whispers lowly against her forehead, leaning back to gauge her expression.
Rhaenyra feels suprised but tries not to show it as she looks up at him, tightening her hands around his wrists. His hands are still on her face, holding her close to him. “You wish to wed me?”
“Rhae Royce is dead, crushed by her frightened horse.” he whispers as he bends down next to her ear. “Become my Queen, Rhaenyra. Say yes.”
“Why?” she dares to ask.
“Do you wish to wed someone else? Do you wish to be a dragon locked in a cage, a prize to be won?” her uncle argues, dropping his hands from her face. He looks down at her like she knows nothing. “Do you not wish to be Queen?”
“So that is it?” Rhaenyra seethes quietly, pushing at his chest. “Be your wife or become a prize, married off to the first fat lord you can find so I can be made to squeeze out heirs?”
Daemon squeezes his eyes shut for a second, groaning silently. “I do not wish to send you away, niece. I want you by my side, as my Queen, as my equal.”
“I will never be your equal and you know it!” Rhaenyra tries to keep her voice down as she feels fire beneath her skin. “I am a woman and I will never be regarded as anything but an object to be used! I will be made to squeeze out heirs, regardless if I am Queen or not!”
Daemon seems angrier than she has ever seen him and Rhaenyra finds silent pleasure in it.
“Your Grace-“ a voice cuts across, echoing in the hall.
They both turn towards it and see Princess Rhaenys regarding them silently, her face unreadable.
“Cousin,” Daemon nods to her, his fists clenched to his side. “Is it urgent?”
“Your guests are restless, your Grace.” Princess Rhaenys says, her gaze cutting to Rhaenyra. “They are looking for their King.”
Daemon seems to straighten up, looking down at Rhaenyra once again before he turns, heading back towards the hall with a nod at Princess Rhaenys.
“Do not be foolish, Rhaenyra.” Princess Rhaenys speaks once the King has left, walking towards the younger girl and stopping before her.
“You heard.” Rhaenyra says plainly.
“It was hard not to.” Princess Rhaenys tilts her head. “You are still young, Princess, but mistakes will cost you more. Choose wisely.”
“You think I should be Queen?” Rhaenyra asks, looking at her cousin. Princess Rhaenys seems stoic, looking over Rhaenyra with a newfound curiosity.
“I think Daemon is restless and constantly angry.” says Princess Rhaenys. “But he loves you the most. You will ground him and you will save the Kingdom from his wrath.”
“The walls have ears, Princess Rhaenys.” Rhaenyra says instead, twisting her rings behind her back. “Be mindful of what you speak of the King.”
Princess Rhaenys gives her a strange smile. “It seems you love him too.”
Rhaenyra watches her walk away, her heart in knots as she frowns. She doesn’t register the walk back to her chambers, and she starts undressing with every step once she closes the doors. She has no need of maids so late at night, with the festivities still happening.
She is clad in a thin night dress, see-through and light that seems to flow with her every step when she finally chooses to lay down on her bed, wrapped in pretty silks.
She thinks of her late mother, suffering with every pregnancy and of her father, a man so gentle and still so cruel, pressuring her mother to give him an heir. She thinks of her uncle, a person so angry and yet so good to her.
The King’s eyes are on her the next day in Small Council. Otto Hightower is gone, replaced by Lord Corlys Velaryon. Rhaenyra pours wine in every cup and goes to choose a new knight for the Kingsguard when her opinion is not wanted anymore.
She recognizes Ser Criston yet chooses Rymun Mallister for the position.
Her uncle is in her chambers when she returns, looking at her shelves filled with books. He doesn’t turn towards her when she enters.
“Uncle.” she greets him.
Daemon turns towards her, arms behind his back. “It is ‘uncle’ again, I see. Tired of ‘your Grace’, it seems?”
“I shall call you whatever you wish.” Rhaenyra grits her teeth as she watches him walk towards her.
“I wish for you to call me husband.” Daemon says, hands reaching towards her necklace. His lips give a faint twitch.
“You see me as a prize.” Rhaenyra says, because she is tired of avoiding the subject.
“I see you as a woman.” Daemon says forcefully, eyes alight with fire. “I see you as a Queen. You are a Targaryen, Rhaenyra.”
“My mother was half Targaryen and look what became of her.” she tells him, swallowing harshly.
“I loved my brother.” Daemon starts. “But he was obsessed for an heir, a male heir, when he had you in front of him. Aemma did not deserve her fate, but I dare say he deserved his. It was an easy death.”
Rhaenyra looks at her uncle, his eyes unreadable and vacant as he speaks. He blinks and the look is gone, his eyes back on her with an intensity that wasn’t there before.
“You mean to tell me you would not wish for boys?” she tries to tease, but it comes out flat.
Daemon catches a piece of white hair that came out of her braid. “I want you, nothing else. You can give me no children and I would still love you unconditionally.”
Rhaenyra stares at him, unable to say anything for minutes on end as he continues to play with her hair. “When would be wed?”
Daemon grins like a madman, sensing the approval in her voice. “When you are ten and six. You will become Queen over all, Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra discovers that for once she has nothing to say to her beloved uncle. She has never dreamed of becoming Queen, her mind always stuck in the clouds with Syrax or with Alicent, sneaking in the kitchens at night while the older girl scolded her but chose to follow her anyway. Her uncle was a faraway dream, one she saw once every moon that showered her with gifts and praises, that declared her the Realm’s Delight from a young age, that always seemed to be wrapped around her finger.
Now, Daemon leans down and kisses her full on the lips, sealing her fate as his hands wind up tight around her, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. Rhaenyra does not know what to do, she has never been kissed by anyone, but her hands catch the ends of his short hair and she tugs, delighting in the groan she pulls from the King. She opens her mouth for Daemon, panting against him as he claws at her skin, pressing his fingers into her and holding her tight.
He breaks the kiss, stepping back as Rhaenyra follows his mouth, desperate for more. Her uncle chuckles when she does so, pressing his forehead to hers.
When she tells Alicent the next day, both of them tucked in a corner of the library, the older girl is shocked.
“You will be Queen?” Alicent asks with wide eyes, putting aside her book.
Rhaenyra nods, twisting her rings. “Daemon told me that father wished for me to be heir anyways.”
Alicent shakes her head, mouth set in a flat line. “Do not be foolish, Rhaenyra. You see what he has done to his first wife, the Lady Rhea Royce.”
“She was killed by her horse.” Rhaenyra says.
“Do you truly believe that?”
“Yes.” Rhaenyra lies, because she has never cared for her uncle’s bronze bitch. “I trust my uncle, Alicent. Do you wish to tell me you would not want to be Queen, if given the chance.”
“No.” Alicent surprisingly doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “I wouldn’t wish to be Queen.” She looks at Rhaenyra like she wants to say more as she shuffles closer, but her throat bobs with fear and she turns her head away.
Rhaenyra grips Alicent’s hand fiercely. “I will forever be your friend, your sister.”
Alicent smiles faintly, squeezing her hands back. “You will be a good Queen, I know it.”
Rhaenyra offers her friend a soft smile as Alicent takes her hands away, brushing her dress.
“My own father wishes for me to marry.”
Rhaenyra’s face twists. “Who does he wish for you to marry?”
“He wished for Jason Lannister,” Alicent picks at her fingers, avoiding Rhaenyra’s gaze. “But he said he will reconsider. I do not wish to go so far away.”
Rhaenyra clenches her jaw and thinks of the Red Keep, empty without Alicent. She tries to think of any Lord, and then her mind drifts to Driftmark. “What of Laenor?”
Alicent’s mouth drops open. “The Sea Snake’s son? The heir to Driftmark?”
Rhaenyra nods her head, the idea clearer than ever. “Driftmark is closer and Laenor is a kind man. I can speak with the King-“
“My father will never agree.” Alicent says, pulling at strings from her dress. “And neither will Lord Corlys Velaryon.”
“They will follow the King’s orders.” Rhaenyra states. “We will be true sisters then.”
Alicent’s face crumbles as she leans forward, putting her arms around Rhaenyra. The two girls sit longer in their quiet library corner, embracing and exchanging hushed whispers.
The next morning, Daemon and Rhaenyra’s betrothal is announced.
There seems to be no peace left for her now, as Lords and Ladies approach her constantly, always vying for her attention and favor. She is to be their future Queen after all, and no one would wish to face the wrath of a Targaryen.
Daemon watches her constantly, always seeming to touch her hand or beckon her closer to the throne, urging her to sit on his lap and tell him about her day.
“Is it strange?” she asks him one day, propped against his chest. “To sit the Iron Throne?”
His hands continues to rub at her back as he touches the throne with his other hand, sliding his fingers across the swords. “Do you wish to know what it is like?”
Rhaenyra’s breath catches in her throat as Daemon forces her to stand up. He puts his hands on her hips as he turns them around and guides her backwards, making Rhaenyra stumble and fall on the Iron Throne.
Nothing extraordinary happens, because it is still a chair after all, but Rhaenyra melts into it as she looks at the throne room, empty and below her. She feels like Aegon the Conqueror, like Maegor the Cruel, like all the Kings before her.
Daemon kneels and looks up at her, his fingers leaving faint touches on her ankles. Rhaenyra’s breath hitches when his hands begin to wander upwards, beneath her dress.
“Daemon!” she hisses, kicking her right foot. He holds it tightly and leaves her no room to move. “Someone could walk in!”
“I am not stealing anything that isn’t already mine, Princess.” he says, voice smooth and calm.
Rhaenyra bites her lip harshly, drawing blood, as she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the throne. Daemon’s fingers make her skin grow hot and fill her with desire she usually chases away in the silks of her bed with her own fingers.
His fingers drift upwards even more and reach her inner thighs, the flesh smooth and untouched.
“Daemon.” Rhaenyra mumbles, her belly filled with heat when he reaches her cunt, pushing aside her small cloth. He touches her like no one ever has, circling and pinching her skin.
“Rhaenyra..” he murmurs when he enters her with one finger, both of them hissing at the tightness. He pumps it in and out of her, the wet sounds so foreign to her ears that she turns red. Rhaenyra clenches her eyes shut and tightens her hands on the throne as he goes faster, and faster. “Another. Can you take another finger, Princess?”
She nods frantically, uncaring of how she looks in that moment as he chuckles. Daemon inserts another finger and her cunt clenches against them, stretching at the pressure. Rhaenyra winces, but revels in the pain. Daemon thrusts the fingers inside of her harshly, curling them at the best spots.
One of Rhaenyra’s hands fly to his hair, clenching and pulling as she moans, her skin glistening with sweat as her uncle pleasures her on his throne.
“Open your eyes or I will stop.” he speaks lowly.
Rhaenyra flutters her eyes open, panting and squirming in her seat as Daemon smiles breathlessly up at her, holding onto her thigh harshly as he pumps his long fingers inside of her. It’s dirty and it’s unlike her and Rhaenyra loves it and wishes that everyone could know that she sat in the great throne everyone wants and she had the King on his knees.
She keeps her eyes on her uncle when she feels it, like a thread snapping inside her belly and she’s overcome with pleasure, her moans echoing. Daemon is grinning as she struggles to breathe, loosening her hand on his hair until she eventually lets go and holds the throne once again.
But Daemon is relentless and doesn’t let her go. As his fingers leave her wet cunt, he holds both of her thighs and keeps her legs open, putting his head underneath her red dress and trailing kisses up her thighs until his mouth touches her cunt, wet and aching from him.
Rhaenyra wills herself not to gasp, holding onto the throne so tight she feels the swords dig into the palms of her hands.
Daemon’s tongue swirls at her flesh and sucks her dry, making Rhaenyra curl and squirm, her moans gradually getting louder. Daemon grips her thighs harder, likely leaving indents from his nails, but Rhaenyra does not care for the pain. She wants more of him, she wants it all, the pain and the pleasure, she wants to bear his children and to sleep in his bed.
She tightens her legs around him, pulling him closer and closer. Daemon pumps his tongue in and out of her, curling it and licking her cunt. Rhaenyra is already so sensitive and before she can properly acknowledge it, she feels the thread snap again.
Daemon sits back down on his knees, adjusting back her dress, the fabric as red as her flushed face. Her uncle’s face is glistening with her and his hair is unruly, but he bares a smile so wild it makes her heart beat faster.
Rhaenyra cannot help herself as she grabs his face and surges forward to kiss him full on the lips, tasting herself against him. Daemon hums approvingly against her, shuffling closer on his knees to slide his hands around her the best he can. He tilts his face up and brings one hand to the back of her neck, holding her close as he slides his tongue in her mouth. Rhaenyra groans against his mouth, still flushed from their activities earlier when she pulls away for air.
“What do you say, niece?” Daemon pants, grinning like a maniac as he looks up at her. “Is it strange to sit the Iron Throne?”
“I might have to sit again, to be sure of my answer.” she answers teasingly and Daemon groans, surging forward to kiss her again.
It is three moons until their wedding when she finally asks him about Alicent.
“The Sea Snake is my Hand, I will not offer him a viper in his home!” Daemon argues, standing before her in his chambers. The fireplace gives him a dangerous glow, but Rhaenyra is as much a dragon as he is.
“Alicent is my one true friend, the one who was been by my side when you were away!” she snaps, her face made of stone. “I will not have her shipped away to the end of the world where I shall never see her again!”
“We both know what kind of man Laenor Velaryon is.” Daemon sets his jaw. “Alicent Hightower will not give him the heirs Lord Corlys so desires.”
“Someone will give her heirs.” Rhaenyra speaks, quieter than before. “She will bear Velaryons, whether it be from Laenor or someone else.”
Daemon looks at her like she has gone mad. “You wish for her to bear bastards? Just so she can be close to you?”
“I wish for her to be happy.” Rhaenyra spits with the anger of a dragon. “Otto Hightower does not care for her happines but I do. Laenor is kind and will care for her, even with bastard children.”
“She is a Hightower!” Daemon slams his hand on the stone of the fireplace, facing her angrily. “She will suck Laenor dry and leave him to rot!”
“She is nothing like you say!” Rhaenyra pushes at his chest. “She is kind, she is good, she is nothing like her father! I have grown up with her and have not turned sour, so why should I leave her when she needs me most.”
Daemon watches her for a long moment before dragging a hand down his face, leaning both his hands on the fireplace as he looks down into the flames. “Lord Corlys will never agree.”
“You are his King.” Rhaenyra tries to say in a gentle voice. She goes up behind him and slides her hands around his chest, pressing her face to his back. “I am asking this of you as your niece, as your betrothed, as your future Queen. Please Daemon, she is all I care about except for you.”
When Daemon sighs and turns to hold her in his arms, Rhaenyra hides her triumphant smile in his chest.
Laenor and Alicent are wed a moon later on a windy day on Driftmark.
Rhaenyra holds her friend after, embracing her and sharing loving words.
“He will not give me heirs.” Alicent whispers in her ear that night, both of them sitting at the main table while others are dancing. “Princess Rhaenys spoke to me.”
Rhaenyra grasps her hands tightly. “But someone will.”
But Alicent shakes her head, expression clear. “Princess Rhaenys said she knows someone in Asshai, a red priestess, she said she can help.”
Rhaenyra is doubtful because she knows Laenor, so she gives her friend a smile. She does not know much about red priests or their Lord of the Light, having heard of them only in passing.
When Laena comes to the table and drags the Princess and the Bride through the crowds, Rhaenyra finds that she cannot wipe the grin from her face as she dances with Lords upon Lords.
Rhaenyra wedding to the King soon follows, and it is the greatest event she has ever witnessed, let alone taken part in.
They are wed in the sept first, with the greatest Houses present. Rhaenyra is escorted by Corlys Velaryons towards Daemon, clad in a white dress with golden and red dragons carefully sown onto it. Her hair is pinned up with rubies and gold and her face is glowing.
When Daemon pledges his love to her and puts his cloak on her shoulders, not taking his eyes off of his new Queen, Rhaenyra feels as if she is floating on Syrax once again. When he leans down to kiss her and they are announced man and wife, Rhaenyra thinks of her parents.
The hall is bustling with guests coming to greet their new Queen. Rhaenyra sits next to her husband, shining under all the praise and her uncle’s hand in her lap, holding tightly onto hers.
In the night when they are left alone to the bedding ceremony, Daemon steals her away. They fly to Dragonstone in haste and are wed yet again in the tradition of their House with fire and blood. He kisses her with her blood on his mouth and seals their fate.
“We will fly back tomorrow.” he assures her quietly in their room as he stands behind her, kissing her neck soundly. “Now, I would like to fuck my wife, my Queen.”
“Your wife…” Rhaenyra murmurs, leaning her head back on his shoulders. He presses brusing kisses to her throat as his hands untangle her dress with haste.
Her dress falls from her shoulders leaving her almost bare before him. Rhaenyra feels no shame in it as Daemon turns her around and looks at her like she is the sun. She takes her small cloth off herself, gazing up at him as shw drops it to the ground.
Daemon watches her with the hunger of a dragon as she unlaces his pants then takes off his shirt, leaving him tall and naked before her. Her gaze strays from going down and Daemon notices, not fighting to keep the smirk off his face.
He surges forward and kisses her without hesitation, one hand circling her waist while the other kneads at her breasts. Rhaenyra moans into his mouth, pressing closer to his bare body in a desperate attempt to feel all of him.
Daemon chuckles, hands traveling downwards towards her ass, kneading at the soft flesh. Her hands hold onto his shoulders when he carries her towards their bed, pushing her down and setting himself above her, leaving her no room to move.
“Do not tease, uncle.” Rhaenyra pants as she feels his hands on her thighs.
Daemon smiles down at her, gripping his cock and pumping it in his hand. “On our wedding night? I would not dare.”
Rhaenyra opens her mouth, to make a comment and say something, but then he’a pushing her legs apart and nudging her cunt with his cock. They both hiss at the contact, Rhaenyra’s heart jumping in her throat as she looks up at him.
“Will it hurt?” she asks hesitantly, shifting on the bed.
Daemon brushes the hair from her face with gentle calloused hands. “I will make it good for you, Rhaenyra.”
She accepts that and nods her head, clenching her eyes shut when he pushes into her, stretching her open for him. It is nothing like his fingers, she realizes, but it is not a pain she can’t take.
Daemon grunts above her, panting into her neck as he pauses, waiting for her to adjust. He kisses the skin on her neck as Rhaenyra puts her legs around him and arches her back, urging him to move.
They are both moaning endlessly as Daemon moves inside of her, thrusting harshly into her. He holds onto her thigh with one hand while the other is clenched tightly around her own hand, holding it against the bed.
Rhaenyra goes to kiss him, but it’s more teeth than lips as they both groan in pleasure. The room is filled with their pleasure, the sounds of skin slapping against skin as Daemon thrusts inside of her faster, the pace making Rhaenyra’s eyes roll to the back of her head.
She tries holding onto something but she ends up pushing her nails into his back, scratching him and leaving marks as he moves inside of her with vigor, his stance unfaltering. She’s shaking and begging him to go faster and harder when she comes, moaning into his ear.
Daemon snaps after her as his thrusts become violent. He pants from above and presses down on her, letting his body relax against hers. Rhaenyra touches the scratches on his back and winces but he doesn’t seem to care as he turns his head towards her and kisses her.
“My wife.” he says quietly, like he does not quite believe it. Rhaenyra holds him tighter in return, murmuring his name.
When they both return on Caraxes the next day, Rhaenyra is changed and bathed, the maids sharing looks between eachother as they eye her neck.
Alicent comes to her first and embraces her while Daemon is with his small council.
“When do you leave?” Rhaenyra asks her as they both sit before her balcony, hands intertwined.
Alicent’s face twists. “In the morrow. Laenor wishes to see Ser Joffrey.”
Rhaenyra tightens her hold on her friend, offering Alicent an encouraging smile.
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent starts, licking her lips as she hesitates. “I am with child.”
“You are?” Rhaenyra feels her eyes widen, but then she’s leaning forward and embracing Alicent. “Who is the father?”
“Laenor.” Alicent is all smiles.
“Laenor? But he has affection only… for men.”
Alicent shakes her head. “There was a red priestess, Melisandre. She helped us immensely. We owe her.”
“I am happy for you, Alicent, truly.” Rhaenyra tells her friend, her thoughts drifting to Asshai.
“You will be with child too, sooner or later.” Alicent says, her expression light. “Perhaps our children will be betrothed.”
Rhaenyra snorts as she bumps her shoulder into Alicent’s.
Though, two moons later, she stops bleeding. Her appetite grows worse and she cannot stomach the smell of goose. She thinks of a bloodied bed and her mother’s body atop of it.
“What is it?” Daemon asks her one night as he kneels before her on the bed.
“I am with child.” Rhaenyra tells him quietly.
Daemon watches her, his breath cut short as he touches her flat stomach. He sees her expression and cups her face in his hands, pressing her forehead to his. “What is it?”
“My mother died giving birth.” Rhaenyra speaks quietly. “Perhaps I am cursed to suffer the same fate.”
“Never.” Daemon vows.
Rhaenyra never truly finds comfort in her first pregnancy.
She feels big and awkward and Alicent isn’t always there to be by her side. The only time she feels light and free is in the sky, Syrax beneath her and her dragon’s wings stretched out against the clouds. The saddle is modified as her stomach grows and grows and grows.
Her skin is no longer blemish free as she traces patterns down her stomach, swallowing back the fear she feels.
Her son comes quicker than she expects on a dark stormy night. Daemon is by her side, holding her as her abdomen tightens and the maester urges her to push. Her screams echo through the Red Keep and eventually are followed by another set of lungs, quieter and shriller.
Aegon is small in her hands, with a tuft of white hair on his head. When he opens his eyes they are a dark violet and they first land on his mother.
Rhaenyra slumps against her husband, glistening with sweat but her face brightened by a smile. She looks up at Daemon after she pushes Aegon at her breast. Her husband’s face seems frozen as he looks at their son, his eyes glossed over as he holds her tighter against him.
“Congratulations, your Grace.” a maid says with a smile as she faces Rhaenyra and gives her a black and red blanket to hold her son in.
Rhaenyra gives her a breathless smile as she wraps Aegon and holds him tighter against her.
They hold a tourney in his name, the next heir to the throne. It lasts five days and Alicent manages to visit all the way from Driftmark with her one month old son, Corwyn.
Corwyn Velaryon has his father’s skin and hair and it gives Alicent a relief she has never felt before.
The two sit in the garden before the sun with their sons in their arms, the court bustling around them.
The next pregnancy is easier for Rhaenyra and their second son comes quicker. Viserys does not scream or make much of a fuss, much like his namesake, but Rhaenyra loves him all the same.
Aegon babbles her name when she presents Viserys to him and then tries to pull at his hair, resulting in both of the children crying. Daemon picks Aegon up like he would a feather and holds his son against his chest, shushing him.
“You must protect your little brother, Aegon.” Daemon tells him quietly, lips pressed to his son’s head. “He is small and fragile.”
“He is not that small.” Rhaenyra scowls from where she holds Viserys to her breast, remembering the pain when she pushed him out.
Daemon chuckles roughly as he rocks little Aegon asleep in his arms. “Not that small. I must agree with your mother or she will burn me alive.”
Rhaenyra snorts in her seat, wincing as Viserys shifts against her breast. She had refused a wet nurse and the respect for the Queen grew, yet the pain in her breasts remained.
“We will be away for some time.” Daemon says to Aegon, willing for him to fall asleep. “Your cousin Laena is getting married to Daemion Velaryon and everyone wants your parents there. It is certainly a mystery as to why everyone wishes for us.”
“It has nothing to do with us being King and Queen.” Rhaenyra adds teasingly, delighting in the grin Daemon gives her.
When their third child, a boy named Aemond comes, so does Alicent’s second child with the help of Melisandre. She gives birth to a beautiful girl with Laenor’s hair but Alicent’s face that they decide to name Alyssa.
Rhaenyra finds herself overwhelmed with boys, secretly hoping for a daughter. Aegon is still small and his dragon hatched in the cradle, a dark blue with black eyes while Viserys’ egg had yet to hatch. In Aemond’s own cradle was placed a dark egg from Syrax’s own clutch.
They go to Driftmark with their three children, Rhaenyra eager to meet with Alicent. Laena Velaryon is pregnant with her first child and proves to be the perfect companion as Rhaenyra introduces Aemond to her beloved friends while Daemon speaks with Lord Corlys.
When Rhaenyra is pregnant with her fourth child, the first signs of trouble arise.
She is in her chambers playing with her three children, Aemond still young and glued to her side. Aegon and Viserys are showing her their play when the doors to her chambers are thrown open. A man stands before her, his eyes crazed and bloodthirsty as the guards at her door lay dead at his feet, their blood staining the stone.
Rhaenyra yells in fear, pushing her small children behind her as the man advances towards her, his hands holding a dagger tightly.
Her children cry and scream from behind her as she tries to shuffle them backwards. The man before her laughs roughly. Rhaenyra’s eyes catch on the fireplace and she rushes forward despite Aegon’s cries and takes a piece of flaming wood, throwing it in her attacker’s face. Her hands are unharmed but his face is burning as he yells.
He cannot open his eyes so he doesn’t see the flaming coal she throws his way, burning at his hair and his clothes. But then he seems to open his eyes despite the fire in a last attempt to harm her. Rhaenyra finds nothing else that she can fight him off with so she screams as loud as she can when he advances.
She throws anything she can in his way as the fire on his body starts to diminish. He walks sluggishly towards her and grasps at her feet, pulling her towards him as his hands fist at the bottom of her dress. Rhaenyra struggles to push him away, screaming louder as she tries to protect her swollen stomach.
When the attacker seems to raise his knife to strike her down, a long sword goes through him. He’s pushed off of her and Rhaenyra is faced with See Harwin Strong as he falls to his knees before her, hands outstretched.
“Your Grace, are you hurt?” he asks breathlessly, looking over her.
Rhaenyra shakes her head, mind numb before she turns towards her children, her three little boys huddled in a corner and crying. She gathers them in her arms, holding them close to her and hushing them as Syrax roars from outside.
Daemon thunders in the room next, followed by his Kingsguard. His expression is deadly as he takes in the disaster before him. He’s at her side in an instant, looking her over and touching her stomach. He holds her and their children before he turns his face towards the dead attacker, face turning to stone.
“You will be rewarded for what you did today, Ser Harwin.” he says to Harwin Strong
“I was protecting my Queen, your Grace.” Ser Harwin says, nodding his head.
Daemon stands, brushing the hair on Aegon’s face before he faces his Kingsguard.
“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” he shouts in such a manner that it reminds Rhaenyra of her father. Daemon’s face is red with anger as he spits fire to his guards. “She is your Queen and she was left guarded by fools! She is your Queen, Aegon is my heir, Viserys and Aemond are my children and they could have been killed! WHERE WERE YOU?”
“Your Grace,” Corlys Velaryon cuts in, gaze set on the King. “It seems the assassin was part of the staff. There was no way of knowing-“
“I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE DETAILS, I CARE ABOUT MY WIFE AND CHILDREN WHO COULD HAVE BEEN MURDERED!”
Lord Corlys hesitates in his next answer. “The Queen must be protected by stronger men. Her Grace is a strong woman but so must be her guard.”
“Ser Harwin.” Rhaenyra speaks from where she is huddled with her children. “I wish for Ser Harwin to protect me.”
Ser Harwin seems suprised but it is Daemon that agrees immediately. “You are to protect the Queen from now, Ser Harwin.”
Daemon is paranoid for the rest of her pregnancy. This pregnancy seems harder than the rest, her belly bigger and her feet more swollen. She aches all over and hates the cold air that seeps through the Red Keep at night.
On a hot summer night after a full day of laboring, Rhaenyra gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl they name Lucerys and Aemma. They are both delighted with the children and so are the three older ones, happy to have another brother and happy to finally have a sister.
Another year passes withouth trouble, Leana Velaryon giving birth to her second daughter, a girl named Rheana that trails after her older sister, Baela, constantly. Alicent bares no more children but is content with Corwyn and Alyssa, who are troublesome enough.
Rhaenyra is also pleased to hear that Alicent found herself a lover. Though suprised, Rhaenyra finds happines for her friend in the lover she chose, a young girl with pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. She resembles Rhaenyra a little bit to much, but neither friend comments on it.
Aegon’s fourth nameday comes with a tourney, where the young heir also decides on a name for his dark blue dragon. Stormcloud is larger by the day but gentle with the children. Viserys’ egg does not hatch and neither does Aemond’s, but Dragonstone is filled with dragons and Rhaenyra is certain Vermithor or Sunfyre will be claimed by her sons.
Lucerys and Aemma as still small, barely celebrating their first nameday, but they are cherished and loved. Lucerys is the only one out of the children to have his platinum hair curly and Aemma loves pulling on it, giggling endlessly when she does so.
Corwyn Velaryon is stuck to Rhaenyra’s sons, always seaking them out when he visits the Red Keep with his parents. Alyssa sits more with her mother, hiding behind her blue skirts but her eyes always strain to Aegon.
Despite the fact that nothing else had happened and Ser Harwin had kept the Queen safe, Daemon remained skeptical and always chose to keep his wife close.
A moon after after she tells him she is heavy with child once again, he holds her tight in their bed, more shaken than usual.
“What is it?” Rhaenyra asks him, turning around in their bed to be face to face with him. Daemon’s hands find hers in darkness and he holds them close.
“There was another assassin sent.” he tells her quietly. Rhaenyra stops shifting in the bed, snapping her gaze to his.
“The children-“
“He was killed.” Daemon eases her worries. “I have my own men, aside from the Gold Cloaks. They are unseen and they told me of a man with a list next to his bed with your name on it, circled multiple times. He was killed before he could wake up.”
Rhaenyra swallows down her fear as she remembers pushing her children in a corner as the assassin advanced towards them, grasping at her feet and pulling her towards him.
“You have nothing to fear, Nyra.” Daemon says when he senses her worries, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he brushes her hair away, a habit of his.
Rhaenyra nods her head, sighing against her husband. “I love you.”
Daemon kisses her head and she falls asleep easily, safe in his arms.
“Did you have my father killed, husband?” Rhaenyra asks him moons later, draped across the silks on their bed as she traces her stomach, heavy with their sixth child.
She remembers him telling her of his men, his men that go unseen and kill anyone who tries to harm her, even before Ser Harwin can get to them. She thinks of her father, killed in the night with a blade, no trace of an assassin left behind besides the open window.
The sun is low in the sky, creating a red hue similar to the Targaryen colours. Daemon looks down at his wife, godly and ethereal in the light as he sits down on his knees on their bed, crawling slowly towards Rhaenyra.
He looms above her, bringing his hand up and tracing her cheek in a matter so gentle you would not think him cruel. He leans down and kisses her hard, his hand slowly tracing down her body, touching her lightly.
Rhaenyra groans against his mouth but pushes him back, breath heavy as she brings her hand up to his short hair, tugging so hard that he winces. “Did you have him killed, Daemon?”
Daemon sits back on his knees, but Rhaenyra keeps her hand in his hair as he presses light kisses against her swollen stomach. “Does it matter anymore?”
“It does to me.” Rhaenyra says, tugging harshly at his hair.
“You father was weak.” Daemon says.
Rhaenyra swallows hard, her hand pausing in his hair. “You killed the King.”
“I am the King.” Daemon smiles as he tells her.