Chapter Text
Naerys looks in the mirror, green dress, and a simple cloak. She can appreciate that the green is beautifully woven, commissioned by mother dearest, of course. The sentiment of speaking High-Valyrian at a funeral is appreciated, especially in the parts where Vaemond Velaryon calls Rhaenyra's sons what they are.
Naerys can appreciate the sentiment. But the only thing Naerys wishes to do at the very moment is to find Sunfyre, and head the fuck home. High Tide is depressing as per usual, at least those in attendance have the decency not to throw themselves at her.
Naerys is a popular hand in the kingdom at the moment, just four-and-ten, but wedding proposals fly into King's Landing like a moth drawn to a flame. That's what most lords in the seven kingdoms are; moths drawn to a flame. Naerys stays close to her siblings, and Daeron is playing the diplomat, hanging around Rhaenyra's scoundrels.
Helaena is playing with her bugs, whatever she does with the wretched creatures is enough to have her on the floor. Aemond is the one who sticks to her, he's quiet, as per usual. Her father or the king in more appropriate terms is talking with their half-sister and uncle. Naerys will bet on all the stars that the uncle and niece are definitely fucking. They'd been eyeing each other all funeral, and it was Daemon's wife's funeral. Who the fuck would do that?
Daemon would, especially after all of the things she's heard from her favorites. Girls in Westeros are talkers, thank the seven. The family, or more importantly Naerys, Helaena, and Daeron took to High Tide by dragon. Another one of mother's brilliant ideas, so her favorites were not invited to the funeral.
Naerys has never met any of these people, she supposed she did when she was a babe, celebrating her second nameday. She doesn't remember anything past the age of about five, and even then, it's still a blur.
Rhaenyra's little runts are spotted near their cousins, soon-to-be step sisters. Naerys has little doubt that since Ser Harwin Strong has been reported dead in an accident at Harrenhal, her half-sister will dispose of Laenor and marry Daemon. If Naerys weren't directly related to the situation, she might laugh, but in this case, all she can muster is a strong scowl.
In fact, Laenor is nowhere to be seen, probably with his squires and rumored lovers . Mother is certainly vocal about the matters when they have dinner as a family, and Naerys can understand Laenor in other worlds. When she looks at it in a position where he isn't her cousin, she can admire it, but when she looks at him with the set of eyes she has now, she can only bring herself to be disgusted. Mother said that certain queerness is prohibited by the seven.
Aemond joins Helaena in capturing little bugs, leaving Naerys all alone. In turn, the only thing around the corner for her are goblets of wine. Only having a sip, turns into one, and one turns into two. As the night dies out, Aemond beckons Naerys to his side.
"What is it?" She asks, following Aemond down the set of stairs that lead to the beach.
He stays quiet, just leading her on a winding sandy path, which at some point just turns to sand and the smell of the beach.
Naerys expresses her frustrations, "So are you going to tell me why the fuck we're out here or are you just leading us to freeze our arses off and getting a yelling by—" She pauses when she sees the mountain of a body in the sands.
Vhagar
"Holy shit—" Aemond cuts her off by hitting her arm forcefully.
Aemond looks at her sternly, the most serious she's ever seen him, "Stay here." And she does just that, she stays there and watches Aemond approach the relic of Old Valyria. When the beast opens her gaping mouth, with flames at the ready, Naerys almost yells out at him to move. Instead, Naerys stays motionless and continues to watch her little brother climb up the ropes with certainty.
When they take off, it sends Naerys to her feet, but she gets back up and cheers for him. He does have a fumble that nearly makes Naerys' heart fall out of her chest, but he gets back up. And when he lands, he's full of life, the Aemond that Naerys knows to be her little brother.
She throws an arm over his shoulder, "Good shit man," she ruffles his hair around, "So how does it feel to be a dragonrider?"
Aemond laughs, "It feels good."
Once they reach the tunnel that will hopefully bring them back into the castle, they're met with the little bastards—and Baela and Rhaena.
"It's him," One of the girls accuses.
"It's me."
"Vhagar is my mother's dragon."
"Your mother's dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now." Naerys scoffs at the little runts, she's nearly a head taller than all of them and very ready to defend her brother if necessary. Fighting children younger than her is not diplomatic in any sense.
"She was mine to claim."
Aemond retorts, "Then you should have claimed her," he scoffs, "Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride, it'd suit you." And when the beastly girl lunges at him, Naerys answers, pushing her back.
Baela gets a good punch on Aemond before he returns the favor, sending her to the dirt. He threatens the four, "Come at me again and I'll feed you to my dragon." Jace comes at them next, in a blind rage.
Soon enough he's pushed to the ground too, then little Lucerys, a beast indeed, savagely screams. Baela is the one who goes for seconds, landing a hard punch to Naerys' nose, for the most part, they stay their hand, Naerys keeps the beasts hands off her brother until Rhaena knocks her to the ground.
The wind is knocked out of her lungs and she finds Aemond on the floor a few feet away, but he holds his stead, knocking each of them off, and having little Lucerys in a chokehold. Naerys gets up and finishes the kid, pushing him out of Aemond's grasp and to the floor.
"You'll die screaming in flames just as your father did," Aemond sneers, "Bastards."
"My father's still alive," Luke cries from the floor.
Aemond scoffs, looking Jace in his two eyes, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong."
That statement fuels a fire, Naerys can see the way his vision goes red, unsheathing his knife, "Jace!" Baela warns, but he ignores it. He lunges at Aemond, effectively pushing him to the floor, Naerys pushes Jace down, ignoring the knife and using sheer force.
Naerys is breathing heavily, about to help Aemond from the floor when out of the corner of her vision, Lucerys brings his brother's knife to Naerys' face.
The way he screams when he does it is guttural and feral. Naerys is sent to the floor, but she persists in getting Aemond off the fucking floor.
"Cease this at once!"
Naerys lifts her hand off her bleeding cheek and sees her own blood, the pain is bliss, but she looks at Aemond with blood in her teeth, before her vision goes dark.
When reality comes back to Naerys, the beasts and Aemond are yelling at each other, her head is pounding, and her face feels unreasonably tight.
Her mother is looking at her face, cupping her chin, horror and panic in her eyes.
She yells at the King, "It should be my daughter telling the tale!"
" Silence !" The King himself shouts to the entire room. "I will have the truth of what happened," He's standing before his second-born, "Now."
When her words run dry, her mother asks, "What else is there to hear? Your daughter has been maimed. Her son is responsible."
"It was a regrettable accident," the eldest daughter defends plainly, holding Lucerys close to her skirts.
"Her son brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill them both ."
"It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves," Rhaenyra pauses to look at her eldest son, "Vile insults were levied against them."
The King turns his head towards his beloved eldest daughter, "What insults?"
"The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."
Jace mutters, "He called us bastards."
Alicent scoffs, "And yet it is my daughter they punished, they have scarred her for the rest of her life." It is what her mother does best, argue on behalf of them, and defend them.
The King doesn't dwell on his second-born, instead, he demands Aemond, "You tell me boy, where did you hear these lies."
Aemond doesn't miss a beat, "We know, father. Everyone knows; just look at them."
The room grows silent because everyone in the room knows the truth of it. That these boys are no Velaryons, yet the King falls deeper into denial. Refusing to admit the closest thing to truth this world has to offer,
"This horrible fighting must cease, all of you! We are a family !" Something in his voice breaks in his yelling, "Now make your apologies, and show good will to one another."
Alicent is in pure disbelief as she watches the King turn, "That is insufficient, Naerys has been damaged permanently. Good will cannot make her whole."
The King doesn't turn his back, "I know, Alicent, but I cannot heal her face."
"No, because she's been taken from."
Viserys doubts his wife's intention when he asks, "What would you have me do?"
"There is a debt to be paid, one of her son's faces will be cut in return," Alicent says stiffly. Lucerys' cries are her answer.
"My dear wife—" Viserys trails, but it's to no avail, her anger is not calmed.
Alicent pleads without mercy, "She is your daughter ," when her husband doesn't answer, something inside her switches. A candle to the flame, "If the king will not seek justice, the queen will. Ser Criston, cut his cheek as he has hers."
Rhaenyra hides her runt behind her when he screams in terror. Naerys makes sure her half-sister can see what her spawn did to her.
"Stay your hand," the King commands.
"No, you are sworn to me ." Alicent points to herself, her judgment has not yet changed, but Ser Criston questions his place.
"As your protector, my Queen," The kingsguard doesn't look at her.
"Alicent this matter is finished, do you understand?" Viserys addresses the entire room, "And let it be known, any tongue who dares question the birth of Queen Rhaenyra's children, should have it removed."
Alicent looks at her daughter with finality before taking the Valyrian-steel dagger from her husband's belt.
They exchange arguments, Naerys can hear little of what is said, but from behind Aemond she can hear the slash of flesh. Aemond comforts his mother, allowing himself to be held.
The next thing Naerys remembers is being carried to her rooms by Ser Criston, continuously being tended to by maesters. Her mother is afraid of the wound festering.
They leave on dragonback the morning after.
Looking in the mirror with her green dress of silk and velvet isn't so much the same anymore.
All she can see in the mirror now is the jagged marking of Lucerys and Jacaerys Velaryon. They are not punished, of course. They have been slapped on the wrist once more, and Alicent has promised her daughter that the day of revenge will come. But the day is not today.
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The next four years go by in a haze, Naerys is long eighteen when she celebrates her brother and sister's wedding.
Though it was not one her mother would prefer, wanting Aemond wed Naerys and Daeron to wed Helaena, that proved not to be the case.
Aemond treated Helaena well in the months that followed, eventually putting her with child. Naerys did not wish to marry and instead squeezed through it by convincing her mother in confidence that they'd have a hand free to marry when the time for allies arose.
Naerys trains with her brothers or spends days dragon riding with her beloved Sunfyre. She and Helaena do that quite often up until she can no longer due to her condition.
The maester tells them her bump is big enough for twins this early. Naerys wonders if her siblings got impatient and perhaps fooled around before marriage. Naerys certainly wouldn't put it past them.
Aemond grows more and more anxious by the day. Impending fatherhood has certainly made him soft, easier to smiles, and prone to being beaten by the sword.
Her mother was not against Naerys' training, she was a dragon rider, a Targaryen, some would even say she was Visenya come again with her skills.
Daeron was the smartest of them, always reading to Naerys about the histories she honestly did not care much for. Naerys was not the best at reading, but she knew her High-Valyrian well enough. Daeron was the kindest of them, the mediator when tensions rose, the one who remained absolutely calm when Aemond and Naerys would fight.
Mother was also prone to Aemond's hovering. Monitoring Helaena as if she may well break in half at any given moment.
Tessarion and Sunfyre, good friends in the sky, companions at best. Naerys would reckon that soon Tessarion would surely lay a clutch of eggs with Sunfyre always lingering around her.
Their Grandfather was also involved in their lives. He was kindest to Helaena, always criticizing Naerys for spending too much time around her companions for his comfort. Even drinking three glasses of wine a night he had something to say about.
The scar over Naerys' face grew ugly and jagged over her cheek. But she knew what she did it for, who she took the damn knife for. And when she was reminded of it, she knew she would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
Family was everything. Naerys was no pretty princess, that idea was thrown out of the window when her face was maimed. She spent most of her spare time with her favorite companions inside the Dragonpit apartments.
Her current favorites were Alarra Stokeworth and Elyn Corbray. Pretty hair, pretty eyes. Her mother had once caught her in such affairs, with a serving maid.
She sighed and just said she was glad that it was not men Naerys was with, but that she would have to marry one day.
Naerys had been with two men before, a knight departing, and a tourney winner at Harrenhal. She did enjoy them and bore neither of their bastards, but she found it more enjoyable at court to surround herself with pretty girls instead of men. It certainly didn't appease her Grandsire, but it did appease her mother slightly.
When the twins came, nine moons following the wedding, Naerys was on Aemond-duty. Keeping him sane, making sure he didn't kill anyone in retaliation. Daeron was on mother-duty, also keeping her sanity.
Naerys and Daeron later shared a pitcher of wine after the twins came, it was a half day's labor, no complications, and two healthy boys.
Aenys and Aerys, Helaena, and Aemond decided. It was nice, the new additions to their family. Aemond chose an egg of Tessarion's and an egg of Dreamfyre's for the babes.
Aerys was decidedly Naerys' favorite, he was quiet, an easy thing that could be held without much fuss. Aenys was a different story, his cries echoing through the halls most nights. But it was a sweet thing, one of the first times Naerys had seen her mother and grandsire truly happy.
Two more years fly by, the twins growing happily and healthily. Both dragon eggs hatched, resulting in Morghul and Shrykos, purple and orange dragons, beautiful in result.
Over the years, Naerys discarded her companions much to her grandsire's delight. But her wine intake was far greater as result, she did drink lots, but she could take it. It gave a buzz, and made Naerys significantly easier to be around, she thought. The headaches that followed every morning were not pleasant, but she could deal with the pain.
Her training was rigorous, Ser Criston was not easy on her because she was a woman, they trained early in the mornings, and evenings past dinner. Dragon riding was mixed in between it all, not as scheduled with Aemond busy with his children and his activities.
A rising petition is what brought life into the Red Keep once more, a petition of Rhaenyra's common-colored bastard, Lucerys Velaryon. His legitimacy and inheritance were being contested, as his karma and hopefully the justice he deserved.
It all just fuelled anger deep within Naerys. Daeron was going to receive Rhaenyra's brood from the gates, so Naerys took her leave from duty to train in the outer yard, eventually being joined by Aemond.
After a sweaty match with Ser Criston, she nods at him, "Brother."
He nods back at her, taking a sword from the rack of weapons, "Care to spar?"
Naerys chuckles and tightens the ribbon on her braid, "Always." They go back and forth, eventually gathering a crowd, Naerys spots her nephews among them.
Naerys uses her agility to 'pull a fast one' against Aemond, or in other words, play dirty. She chuckles with the blade to his throat, retracting the blade as people around them clap.
With her back turned she says, "Nephews, have you come to train?" Aemond pats her shoulder before pushing through the crowd and putting the sword away. She looks both of the brunettes up and down before returning her sword and going inside.
It's a truth that the King's health is not so well. He's been declining, or in better words decaying . Everyone inside the bloody Red Keep knows it.
He's met the twins on two occasions when they were born, and on their first name day, which was nearly a year ago.
Naerys dresses in a dark green dress and heads off to Helaena's rooms. Surely the twins can ease her foul mood at seeing her nephews at court for the first time in six years. The twins get up and screech at her entrance.
" Vela !" Aerys opens his arms and waits for her to pick him off the floor, she complies and ruffles his hair, shaggy curls in every direction. His High-Valyrian is certainly not there yet, but Aemond does seem to be a good teacher.
Aunt
Naerys kisses his face a few times and then sets him down to sit next to her sister.
Naerys kicks up her feet and confides in her sister, "Rhaenyra's runts have returned."
Helaena sighs and continues sewing, "Lucerys will keep his birthright, mother may try to change it but—" She screws her eyes shut, "But they cannot change what is yet so close."
Naerys sneers, "It is not his birthright to begin with, the entire fucking realm knows it when they take a good look at my face."
Helaena looks at her desperately, eyeing the children, and with her eyes, she tells Naerys to watch her tongue. "They may not say it, but they are sorry dear sister."
When the maids bring in some tea, Naerys begins again, "They'll never be sorry Hel."
Helaena sighs, and continues to sew. That night, Naerys falls asleep with a wine glass and compact mirror in her hands.