#avengingangelfanfic

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In the first 25 years of the reign of Rhaenyra, the People’s Queen, Westeros enjoyed unprecedented peace and prosperity.  Save for the usual disputes between great houses over old wounds, the staving off of pirates who got too bold every couple of years, and the hard winter of 140 AC,those first 25 years were considered the Golden Age of the Seven Kingdoms.

It seemed once the new queen made short work of the extremist Faith Militant and the Flameborn in House Targaryen were revealed, no other major enemy desired a dance with the dragons who sat the Iron Throne.

Such a difference to the tragic years shortly following the birth of Prince Aemond and Princess Lyanna’s 7th child, Daemon.  Before the terrible times of turmoil, let us tell of this last instance of happiness for The Dragon Blade and his Princess of Hearts.  

The much beloved son came after 6 equally loved daughters: Catelyn, the eldest and born in the midst of the Crown’s battle against the Faith Militant, Laena, second and named for her grandsire’s second wife and Queen Baela’s mother, Alicent,their third, named for her father’s mother and who grew to share Prince Aemond’s love of books, Alyssa came fourth, named for her great-grandmother, followed by a fifth daughter, Daenys, who together with Alyssa stuck to her elder sister Alicent like a shadow.  A sixth child, seemingly the last (for it was 7 years after the birth of Daenys that this occurred and following this birth, it would be ten years before Princess Lyanna’s womb would quicken again, everyone of the mind that she was going through her change of no longer being fertile) turned out to be another daughter, whose name was decided upon to be Rhaenys. 

“By your leave,  we have decided to name her Rhaenys.” Prince Aemond had famously told The Queen Who Never Was, upon his arrival at Driftmark.  He had taken up the habit of flying upon Vhagar to announce the births of his children to the lords and ladies of various houses. 

So it was when Princess Lyanna brought forth a son.  While she stayed in King’s Landing with the King Consort and Queen positively preening with pride over their latest grandson, Prince Aemond flew to the great houses his daughters had married into: Caswell (for Laena), Umber (Daenys), and lastly Baratheon (his eldest, Catelyn, had married Lord Royce).  Two of his daughters, Alicent and Alyssa, had married Aegon II’s sons, Maelor and Valerion, respectively. They resided in the red keep with the rest of the family, seeing to the celebrations.  King’s Landing was full of joy, its citizens celebrating yet another dragon born.

No one could predict the absolute horror that was to come, the calamity that would begin with the murder of her grace Queen Rhaenyra and her Lord Hand and husband, King Consort Daemon, in the city of Braavos.  

No ravens came but a messenger on a ship arrived with a barebones crew to deliver the horrible news.  Braavos would have been burned to the ground by command of the newly made King Jacaerys, had his fury not been assuaged by the Dragon Blade.

Prince Aemond, having been made Hand of The King in the war council immediately following the news, felt the matter stank of outside forces plotting against Braavos.  The city and its holdings  had always been friendly with the crown, had sent much needed aid during the hard winter, always paid tariffs when in Westeros’ ports instead of covertly trying to weasel out of them and all the sea lords had immediately condemned the murder.  What’s more, Caraxes and Syrax had not attacked the city.  The two dragons instead flew to Mereen and began setting that city aflame before being fended off by canons, spears and all manner of debris being flung at them with catapults.  They did not immediately return to Dragonstone or King’s Landing, only appearing later at the deciding battle of the upcoming conflict.  It was not long after the war council that the White Worm came to King Jacaery’s court with the information she had been tasked to uncover the moment messenger’s had informed House Targaryen of the killings.

So the ravens flew from the Red Keep all over Westeros: Rhaenyra, Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, and her husband Daemon, King Consort, were dead by orders of Khal Drogo, self-styled king of Slaver’s Bay.  Khal Drogo was determined to be the Stallion Who Mounts The World, and only House Targaryen had any hope of standing against his mighty army of giants, wizards and slaves.

It seemed that King Jacaerys, who history would come to know as Jacaerys the Defender, would have his mettle as a ruler first tested by this tyrant.  A funeral was held for his late mother and stepfather, the much loved Queen and King, their bodies having been delivered personally by a council of sealords from Braavos.

The funeral procession was a most heart wrenching sight.  Flowers were tossed as the bodies passed by.  The smallfolk wept and wailed.  Even the guards had visible streams of tears flowing from their faces.

Saddest of all was the procession of the new King and Queen’s family.  King Jacaerys and Queen Baela steadily walked by, their bodies rigid and faces like stone.  Crown Prince Aemon followed, tear tracks clear on his face, his eyes full of fire and looking determined for revenge.  The Lord and Lady of Driftmark, Lucerys and Rhaena Velaryon, came after, followed by Aegon II holding steady Princess Helaena, all their children following.

Prince Aemond and Princess Lyanna had fallen behind with Lord Rick Tully, they struggled with him to comfort and raise up Lady Alicent Tully, who had collapsed on the path and was screaming with intense sorrow.  The people of King’s Landing could only watch in sadness as Aemond, Lyanna and Rick took to kneeling on the ground, attempting to get a hysterical Alicent to stand and walk. Her words were heard by all nearby.

“Don’t make me do it!  Please, gods, don’t make me do it!! I cannot I cannot do it please do not make me-”

—-------

Daemon Targaryen closed the history book.  It was looking to be yet another disappointment in what he was searching for, as was every book and scroll that talked of his late parents.  He had read so many that by now he could predict how the maesters, septas and scholars would choose to portray his mother and father: in every way except as people.  Rubbing his temples and standing to search for another book in the library, he contemplated his next move.

It was always the same.  They were devoted to each other, moved and operated almost as one unit, songs were written of them, their words and actions immortalized on paper and stone, and yet…they felt like strangers to him.  He had lost them in the last battle of the war against Khal Drogo, when he was but a year old and King Jacaerys had afterwards issued a rather strange decree: no one was to talk to him of his parents until he came of age.

When he was a small boy, he did not see the reasoning for such a thing, but soon learned.  Prince Aemond and Princess Lyanna were akin to mythical deities for the people of King’s Landing and all throughout the seven kingdoms, second in popularity only to the People’s Queen herself, Rhaenyra.  King Jacaerys did not want Daemon to grow up under the pressure of living up to them.  Though they were all aware of the decree, it didn’t stop little comments constantly peppered into Daemon’s interactions with the smallfolk.

In his growing years, he didn't understand them. As a teenager, it got infuriating.  Daily, as he walked about the city, he was always told he was his father reborn.  Many would add that he may be his father in looks but his heart was all his mother’s.  His own wants, his own ambitions, his own words even, were continually dismissed as people would try to prod him into acting like his parents, people he never knew. His cousin, the King, suddenly did not seem so unwise with his decree.  Had it been obeyed fully, Daemon guessed he could have grown up not feeling so inadequate.  He used to hate it at first, resent it, this constant shadow of his parents ever looming over him everywhere he went.

Now, a couple of weeks past his 19th nameday, he finally felt a desire to know them as a son should.  His sisters, far older than he, were not much help.  Daenys and Laena lived away from the Red Keep, their own holds to rule along with their husbands and own families to look after.  Alicent was always busy either with her namesake library or their grandsire Daemon’s university, Alyssa ever at her side.  Rhaenys had married into House Stark some years ago, far too remote to regularly converse with even by raven. 

Catelyn Baratheon and her husband Lord Royce were the ones he was closest to, despite them having approximately 30 some years on him, their eldest son Alphonse his dearest friend.  Ravens to and from Storm’s End were common, visits on dragonback frequent.  Daemon’s brilliant white dragon, Parthurnaax, enjoyed flying to Storm’s End to cavort with Caraxes, his grandsire’s old mount, who had been claimed by Alphonse. 

 Daemon shared a special bond with his slightly older nephew: save for the signature Baratheon brown hair, Alphonse had Aemond Targeryen’s face as well.

He understood the impossible comparisons to some degree but his parents insisted he shared only a face with his grandsire yet even they could not help but admit the truth when he had asked: though Alphonse had a softer version of the late Dragon Blade’s face, it was his son Daemon who had grown to be the very mirror of him (save for not having a missing eye himself).  

Alphonse and his uncle were quite close, as close as brothers would be, the result of having been fostered in King’s Landing until he came of age himself.  Alphonse had often found himself reassuring his uncle after a particularly bad day.  

“Let them talk.  Saying a thing does not make it so.  You are Daemon Targaryen, not Aemond the Dragon Blade.” Alphonse would say.

Catelyn, while never having an in depth discussion with Daemon about her own father and mother, as per King Jacaery’s decree, insisted that the stories told by the people and the histories written by maesters and septas would never come close to doing justice to the memory of Aemond and Lyanna.  Royce, who had also known them well, agreed.  Three years past, on Daemon’s 16th nameday, they both offered to sit and talk of them with him. 

Still in the throes of his frustrations of not being considered his own person, he had angrily refused with all the vehemence of a 16 year old determined they were the only one in the world feeling such anger.  Daemon had even refused to answer Catelyn’s ravens for a few months after.  Alphonse had tried to make peace with them but was unsuccessful until communications were initiated by Daemon himself again.

Now, at 19, it was Daemon who broached the subject once more.  One week since he had sent a raven and still no answer.  No matter.  There were periods of time when Catelyn took up to two weeks to respond, duties as Lady of Storm’s End keeping her busy.  Daemon was happy to wait, now that he was sure of what he wanted. 

—-------

Daemon did not have to wait long.  2 weeks after sending a raven, he was summoned by his cousin.

“His Grace, King Jacaerys, invites you to break your fast with him and Prince Aegon the Elder, my prince.” Ser Arryk informed him one morning, as he was just leaving his chambers.  Daemon knew it was not an invitation.  His presence was required.  Ever since his spat with Catelyn, despite having reconciled, he felt that the King remained short with him and it was best not to antagonize him by refusing an order.

He made his way to the vast family common balcony on a far end of the keep.  It offered the most expansive, amazing view of the city.  When he got there, Helaena was also present, she and Aegon milling about the smaller table full of food and transferring morsels to their own plates before seating themselves at the bigger table.  King Jacaerys, already seated at the head of it, laughed at something Aegon said.  Servants stood by the door but the atmosphere was relaxed.  So it was to be an informal meal…

“Cousin. Uncle.  Aunt.  A lovely morning, is it not?” he called out as he entered.  They all turned and he saw it, the look everyone always gave.  Like they thought for a moment that Aemond Targaryen stood before them until reality set in.  It was hard not to think that way for them, he supposed.  Daemon had grown his hair long as Targaryen men traditionally did but still snuck in a bit of defiance: instead of the half ponytail favored by his father in all paintings he saw of him, he kept his tresses tied back in a single, low ponytail.  

“Daemon.” Jacaerys said. “Come, I have a task for you.”  He motioned for him to sit in the chair across from Aegon and Helaena, who both smiled and nodded at his presence.

Daemon sat, taking a glass of wine offered by Helaena.  He faced the King.  “What is it?”

“Alphonse tells me Storm’s End has need of a dragon.  Him and your sister Catelyn are due in Braavos for a diplomatic trip on behalf of the Crown.  Lord Baratheon would appreciate your presence until they return.”  Jacaerys bit a piece of lamb off his fork as he finished speaking.

Daemon was confused for a moment.  “Did a raven come?  I wrote to Catelyn weeks ago and have not received a response.”

Aegon chuckled a bit.  “That is because Alphonse wrote to us on her behalf, since Catelyn was momentarily away with Royce, dealing with some border dispute.  Apparently they gave him leave to read their correspondence and when they got back they didn’t feel sending another raven was necessary…”

“It was the right decision, in the end.” Jacaerys put in. “Catelyn hasn’t the time right now to really give you the discussion of your parents that you deserve.  This trip is important.”  At this, Daemon snapped to attention. 

“I’m sorry, nephew. “ Helaena apologized.  “ We visited them on dragonback the other day.  Everyone is aware now, that you are ready to know the truth.” she said simply, as was often her way.  Daemon felt his cheeks burn.  Everyone?  Everyone knew his business?!  Catelyn would pay for this.  Alphonse too!

“You should leave as soon as possible.  Catelyn and Alphonse will take flight as soon as they see Parthurnaax in the skies.” Jacaerys continued.  “The groups causing trouble in their lands have been quelled and Lord Baratheon has more than enough men to keep it that way, but the presence of a dragon will ensure things remain peaceful.” 

Daemon said nothing, staring at his plate.  Helaena began talking, attempting to snuff out the tension brewing.  “Lord Baratheon loved your parents well, Daemon.  I’m sure he would be happy to talk about them with you until Catelyn returns.”  Still, Daemon said nothing.  Jacaerys took notice and put his fork and cup of wine down, looking to him.

“Nephew-”Aegon began, trying to diffuse the situation but Daemon cut in.

“All this blustering is unnecessary, Your Grace.” he said, the last two words laced with venom.  “Be direct with me: you are not sending me to assist Storm’s End.  Lord Baratheon needs help fending off raiders like my dragon needs help killing the sheep for his meals.” 

The servants tensed, Aegon and Helaena remained silent.  Jacaerys was now fuming but his voice remained calm.  “Cousin...what reason would I have to not be direct with you?” he asked in a silky, irritated voice.  He stared unflinchingly at Daemon, who stared back but seemed to second guess his decision to lash out.  He may be family, but Jacaerys was still King of all Westeros.  If Daemon were anyone else, he would surely be sleeping in the dungeons tonight for daring to speak in such a way in the King’s presence.

“I am not a child anymore.” Daemon said.  

“The fact has not escaped my notice, despite you currently having the attitude of one.” Jacaerys said.  “Come now, there's no need to be angry.  I am not using any pretext to send you off.  Your long awaited talk of your parents is merely a pleasant addition to your mission. Think of this as more a favor to me” his voice softening, Jacaerys continued. “I may be King but Vermax and I cannot be everywhere at once.  It would soothe my mind to know my coast remains under protection of a dragon.”

Quick as it had come, Daemon’s anger dissipated at the caring tone in his cousin’s voice.  Helaena reached out to hold his hand as Aegon spoke up.  

“We will certainly be happy to talk of your parents further with you when you come back.” Aegon said with a smile.  “No more sidestepping the subject, nephew.  You deserve to know them fully as we did and to love them as we all still do.”

Feeling he would cry if he spoke, Daemon merely nodded stiffly at them all and started to eat.  Jacaerys began to speak of the weather with Aegon and Helaena as if it were the most riveting topic, all of them pointedly ignoring Daemon’s silence.  He would speak to them again when he felt ready.

—-------

Of all days for Storm’s End to have clear skies and a shining sun, Lord Royce Baratheon thought it auspicious that it would be today.  His brother-in-law, Daemon, had arrived a few hours ago.  Royce happily greeted him in the courtyard despite the reserved demeanor that initially met him.  

“Brother, it is good to see you.” Daemon seemed jittery and restless.  Royce tactfully led him to his library and had refreshments brought.  It was best to just get on with it, Daemon had waited long enough.

“How are Catelyn and Alphonse?” Daemon asked, hands clasped behind his back as he paced the library, ignoring the lemon cakes and tea brought.  

Royce smiled, his hands clasped to his stomach.  “They are the same.” He took a lemon cake and nibbled at it.  “Catelyn infuriating with her winning of bets against me, her own lord husband.  Alphonse insists we arrange his marriage because talking to any maiden causes him to break out in a cold sweat and so making a match himself would be impossible, according to him.”

“He had gotten better at that, last I saw him.” Daemon chuckled.

“Has he?  I have yet to see such a thing.”

“Perhaps it is just the fact that he cannot do it under your eye?  He says you scare him.  Not in a way that you would mean him harm, but just the way you carry yourself.  As if you could achieve the greatest things in history.”

“I would hardly say talking to a maiden is one of the greatest things in history but your sister might become cross with me if she heard me giving voice to such an opinion.” Royce joked.  

Daemon laughed and the older man looked on fondly.  He was so like his father in appearance, but he laughed like his mother…

“Well…I think everyone in all of Westeros by now knows why I am here…” Daemon began.  “I don't even know how to begin to…I just…I know nothing of them, really.  All those histories, their great achievements, they tell me nothing.  Of mother and father.  I don’t even know what to ask!”

Royce sighed. 

“You do not have to confine yourself to only ask of pivotal moments, you know.  You can ask me anything of them, however mundane you may think it to be.”

“Truly?  You would not think me wasting your time?”

“Not at all.  I've been waiting for us to have this conversation with much anticipation, actually.”

“Anything?” Daemon asked again, still not quite believing he would finally get to know what his mother and father were truly like.

“Anything, brother.  If you wish to know what jokes would cause your mother to roll her eyes, I will tell you.  If you desire to know what the most frequent source of your father’s irritations was, I will spare no detail.  Ask away.”

“Well…” Daemon began, looking out a window. “...I actually wish to start with knowing  what you thought of them?  When you met them.  How they make you feel?  How did they treat you?  You were just a boy, after all.”

Royce examined the painted ceiling as he began talking.  “I was so… terrified when my mother, gods rest her soul, brought my sisters and I to King’s Landing.”

Daemon sat on a chair, arms on the sides of it, listening intently.  Royce stayed standing, slowly walking around the library, idly brushing the spines of books as he talked.

“All each of us had ever known was the cruelty of my father.  He had the power, so he had the right to treat us as lesser, as he so insisted upon telling us at every opportunity.  As soon as he was not in the vicinity, mother would contradict his word, try to build us up after father would tear us down.  ‘Cruelty is not the way.  None of you deserve this wretched treatment, you deserve kindness and love and happiness.’”

Daemon’s eyes began to mist over but he said nothing and let Royce continue.

“You can imagine my fear when mother dragged us to the Red Keep.  Words mean very little when what you actually witness is something different.  Save for our  mother, kindness and love did not exist to us, especially not from those with power.  Our father was a mere lord and he treated us as if we were scum so in my mind, the Targaryens, the rulers of the seven kingdoms and higher up in authority than him, would far outstrip his cruelty to my sisters and I.  I had heard stories of this new Princess of Hearts, but I thought them the same as fairy tales: made up fantasies.  For no Targaryen could possibly be so kind!  Oh, and your father, the Dragon Blade.  Well, I was in awe of tales about him but if I ever met him in person I would never have expected him to be anything other than deadly and vicious.  He was like Balerion The Black Dread to me. ”

Daemon did not look away as Royce turned to face him.

  “I did not believe it when Rhaenys, She Who Might Have Been Queen, vowed we would not be imprisoned.  Daeron and Joffrey, despite their friendship with me when my family arrived, insisted we would be treated fairly and still I did not believe. They were not the ones in power, our very fate in their hands.  The Dragon Blade had my father thrown to the dungeons for being rude with his words, so I prepared myself to be screamed at and possibly beaten when we were brought before the Queen…when your grandsire ordered everyone out, Rhaenys pulling us back so mother could talk to him alone…I thought it was over for us.”

Royce smiled sadly, continuing his story. 

“I wanted to cry when everything turned out for the better, when the Hand promised we would not suffer for my father’s sins.  I wanted to crawl up into mother’s arms, to praise her for being the bravest woman in the whole world for facing King Consort Daemon Targaryen himself… but we were in court and it would not have been proper, of course.” He laughed lightly, brightening the mood and Daemon smiled, keeping his silence so Royce could keep talking.

“It just…as soon as I saw there was nothing to fear from Daemon or the Queen, I felt like I wanted to know everything about them, these silver-haired dragonriders! Quite sure father would have beaten me to within an inch of my life if I had dared to ask him if he had magic.  Lyanna must have had patience to spare, with all the impertinent questions my sisters asked of her family and bloodline.  Her not simply boxing their ears and sending them off to their chambers as my father would often do was a miracle, to be honest.”

Daemon laughed at this along with Royce.  Hearing him speak of these things, it was as if he were there himself, watching it all unfold.  

“Oh gods, if your over protective mother had known how clumsy Cassandra was, holding Catelyn would have been out of the question.  It's a good thing babies and pottery bear no resemblance to each other or my wife would have ended up on the ground as soon as Lyanna had handed her off.”  Daemon was crying with laughter now, Royce smiled with glee, allowing him to catch his breath before going on with his recollection of things. 

“And when your father appeared!  It was very jarring to see what, to me, seemed like a deadly creature sidle up to your beautiful mother and gently give her a kiss. She did not fear him whatsoever! I was in shock, I think.  I expected him to ignore me since ,compared to everyone else present, I thought myself of no consequence.  He actually squatted down to talk to me.  Me!  A lad of a mere 5 years.  This man who even the guards at home spoke of in fear,  who had my father imprisoned just for talking!”

Daemon leaned back in the chair, listening intently.  Hearing all this, he felt as if he were meeting his father and mother for the first time.  He felt Royce’s joy and enthusiasm.  

“Being around them, your parents… it just felt safe.  I didn't sense any hooks later to be reeled in for favors from their kindness, like with other lords and ladies…there was no barrier of formality. I didn't feel like my nerves would snap if I made a mistake with court decorum.  I did not feel stupid and worthless.  They did not paint us with the same brush the rest did due to my father’s actions.  I felt I could be myself.  It was quite freeing, let me tell you.”

As Royce continued to talk, servants replenished the food and drink.  Daemon continued to listen well into the night, happy to finally get to know his mother and father.

Faceclaims:

Daemon Targaryen- Aemond as portrayed by Ewan Mitchell, except without the missing eye and his hair in a single ponytail

Royce Baratheon- King Edward from The Last Kingdom, as portrayed by Timothy Innes

Alphonse Baratheon- Osferth from The Last Kingdom, as portrayed by Ewan Mitchell

Catelyn Baratheon- Gemma Ward, circa 2023

King Jacaerys Targaryen- Aragorn as portrayed by Viggo Mortensen (Just imagine him with slightly grayer hair after the timeskip in this chapter lmao)

Daenerys Targaryen, granddaughter of Jacaerys- Marienne Bellamy as portrayed by Tati Gabrielle in season 4 of You (She literally has the perfect hair for this imo)

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18 YEARS AGO…

The dragon pit buzzed with the huge crowd, everyone gathered to hear the new King speak on what the next step would be. War, surely. 

Jacaerys felt like a boy of fifteen again, his fear causing a bitter taste in his mouth, making his chest thump with anxiety.  His face remained blank, but inside, he was screaming and scared.  How pathetic, he thought.  He was King now and he was afraid, so very afraid.  

It had been a fortnight since the loss of his mother and Daemon.  Since his entire world had collapsed and the Crown Prince had made way for the King he apparently now was.  Days of investigating and hearing all of King’s Landing grow more rage filled by the hour.  Only five days since the funeral.  King Wait-and-see, they had begun calling him.  Others whispered the cruel moniker “King Craven”.  Or so he had heard.  The people were angry, that much he was certain of (Mostly due to the fact that no news had yet been relayed as to what the Crown planned on doing to avenge Queen Rhaenyra and her Lord Hand’s deaths), but Jacaerys wondered…how angry were they with him?  A truly distraught son would be chomping at the bit for revenge, he thought bitterly.  Instead of lingering about, doing what felt like nothing. 

It was his queen who soothed him, quelling his dragon fire.  Baela reassured him that only a few loud voices were the ones branding him with disrespectful names, that the majority of the smallfolk supported their new ruler and were just anxious for an answer concerning what was to come.

Well, they would have their answer now, Jacaerys thought.  

Still, he hesitated.  

Would they really fight for him?  Would they love him as much as his mother and Daemon?  He felt such a heavy weight in his heart despite Baela’s fiercely reiterated beliefs over these last few days that the people of Westeros would follow their King to the seven hells, if need be. “I certainly would.” She had said, clenching his face and holding his gaze with those blazing eyes he loved oh so dearly.

 The crowd continued their murmuring.  Jacaerys let himself gaze over them for a moment.  His mother always seemed to know just what to say, what to do, in any situation.  How could he possibly measure up to her?  To Daemon?  More than anything, he wished he could ask them for advice, but they were no longer here to give it.  

Aemond, newly made Hand of the King, along with the rest of the Targaryens, stayed behind at the Red Keep and conferred with the war council, seeing to it that Jacaery’s orders were followed.  Only Baela came with Jacaerys to the dragon pit.

It helped his crippling feelings of inadequacy, to have her here with him.  No other could possibly know, could see him as the terrified man he currently was.  Especially not his own son, Aemon, now first in line for the throne.

Raising a hand to silence the crowd, King Jacaerys Targaryen stood for a few minutes until the murmuring and whispers died down to nothing.  Then he spoke.

---------- STORM'S END, PRESENT DAY----------

Every member of the royal family was making their way to the Red Keep for the nameday celebrations of Aegon the Elder’s twins. Daenerys, Aemon’s daughter by his sister-wife Daella, had stopped by Storm’s End the first week Daemon had been there (she was returning from Dorne).  In that week, dinners had been full of laughter and jokes. 

Daemon felt lighter and happier than he had in months.

“Your mother cheated whenever she trained with your father.” Daenerys had told him over dinner one night.

“No!” Daemon cried.  He was just recovering from laughing at the story of everyone spying on Aemond while he asked for Lyanna’s hand.  “What happened to the ‘ absolute paragon of honor’ that I kept reading about in every damned history?!”

“Your mother was as honorable as they come, but the cheating in the training yard?” Royce said, ever so slightly drunk. “Oh, she resorted to that every chance she got.  I would too, to be honest BUT she was an honorable lady, I promise you!”

“Hmm, certainly wasn’t very honorable of her to toss a book at our Lord of Driftmark and give him a black eye.” Daenerys added, slicing into her lamb. Royce spit his wine laughing.

“WHAT?!” Daemon cried.

“Grandsire told me.  When Lyanna carried your sister Catelyn, she was rather quick to burn.” Daenerys said with a sly grin.  “Oh, our Aemond had to take her dagger and sword away.” 

“Whatever happened to that dagger?” Daemon asked.  He silently pondered for a moment, the boisterous humor in the atmosphere having been immediately replaced with a relaxed nature as desserts were brought to the table.  No one was uncomfortable at this.  They were family, after all.  

“Alphonse has it.” Daenerys looked to Daemon.

Daemon was frozen. No…Alphonse would have told him so!  Wouldn’t he? Then again, he had never thought to ask of it himself.  How could he fault his nephew for his own inaction? 

Daenerys continued “Of course, if grandsire had not decreed to leave you alone  concerning stories of your parents, I’m sure he would have told you.  Alphonse is the type to have informed you the moment he himself knew.”

Oh…oh, of course.  The decree. 

“If you will both excuse me, I think the ale did not agree with me.  I will retire for the night.  Daella, will you join us hunting pheasant tomorrow?” Royce said, swaying as he stood but still somehow in possession of enough of his faculties to speak coherently. 

“I am Daenerys, my lord.” came the response, with a chuckle. 

“Oh!  So you are.  My apologies!” Royce burped and quickly begged their pardons.  An attendant hurried to his side to escort him to his chambers.

“Unfortunately, though, I must away to King’s Landing tomorrow.” Daenerys said, as Royce was led away.  “Pressing matters to do with my works in Dorne.  I fear my horse might run away without me if I stay longer, she is not fond of storms.”

“Oh, very well!” Royce called from down the hall he was led in.  “I shall see you at the nameday hunt in a few weeks time!  Daemon, I shall see you tomorrow!”

“You knew all this time, that Alphonse had my mother’s dagger?!” Daemon accused, once Royce had gone. “Why on earth would he tell you about it?  It doesn’t seem like information that is of much use to you.”  Annoyed, he jabbed at his slice of sweet cake.

Daenerys raised an eyebrow.  “Why are you irritated with me?  I’m not the one in possession of it!” 

The dagger was not the main issue, Daemon thought.  The fact that Daenerys knew his nephew had it…not many knew that, he was sure. Why in the seven hells would a dagger, even one belonging to his mother, be a regular topic of conversation? A great deal of time would have to be spent together for the subject to even come up casually.  And why had she come to Storm’s End before King’s Landing? She did not answer to orders from Lord Royce and she was not particularly close to him.  Nor had she known Daemon would be there…

Daemon rolled his eyes and continued to eat his cake.  The two Targaryens slipped into a comfortable silence but Daemon’s mind was restless.  He had learned so much of his parents these past few days.  Their courtship made him want to tear his hair out.  How could they not have seen it for so long?  It was maddening…and somehow, it was happening again. 

Alphonse and Daenerys pined for each other.  He was sure of it. Yet, both refused to give voice to their desires and become officially betrothed.

 Before, Daemon had been content to leave them be, confident that they would eventually sort it out themselves.  He had confronted Alphonse about it several times long ago and each time his nephew had insisted he would resolve the issue himself.

 Daemon had never confronted Dany about it, he’d sooner fight his dragon naked.  Others did not know who the object of Alphonse’s affection was and simply took this to mean Alphonse was nervous around maidens.  

“Do you…are you fond of men?” Daemon had asked him once, before he understood the situation.  Alphonse had buried his face in his hands. 

“No!  If I were, I am certain I would not have the issue I do now.”

And so Daemon had listened as Alphonse poured out his heart, lamenting the fact that Daenerys would never be with him because she had vowed she would never marry again after the death of her husband.

Daemon contemplated his plan of attack on the matter as Dany excused herself from the table to go to sleep.  

Everyone was approaching this all wrong, he thought.  They were hounding Alphonse to find a bride but since no one but they three knew he was in love with Daenerys, none of them had even approached her to make a move.  It was clear what the solution was: the prospective bride herself would have to ask for the hand of Alphonse Baratheon.  Propriety be damned. 

Daemon made the decision then: when he would leave in a few weeks, he was determined to go straight to Daenerys and inform her that she must ask his nephew to marry her. To do so here in his good brother’s home, Alphonse’s own father,  would be terrible manners.  They’d already be stomping on tradition enough as it was, no need to add to it.   He suspected Catelyn would foam at the mouth with rage that her son wasn’t the one doing the asking, but that did not matter.  What mattered was love.  Real, true love.  Like the one his parents had shared. No one, not kings or lords or ladies or thousands of years of precedence, should stand in the way of that. 

----------KING'S LANDING, ONE MONTH LATER----------

The mostly empty dragonpit upper chamber echoed with the rumbles of Caraxes and Alduin, Catelyn’s fearsome jet black dragon, stomping off to the caverns below. 

Jacaerys stood a ways near the entrance doors, smiling at his cousins’ arrival. 

It had been a month since Daemon had gone to Storm’s End.  He would return in time for Jahaerys and Jahaera’s nameday celebration in one week, Catelyn and Alphonse choosing to go directly to King’s Landing to save themselves a trip and to deliver results of their negotiations in Braavos. 

“Your Grace!  I am famished for a genuine Westerosi lemon cake!” Catelyn declared, marching over, already undoing her braid.  Alphonse followed beside her, laughing.  “Our Braavosi allies, seven help them, do not have the slightest clue as to the proper ratio of sweetness to tanginess that a well made lemon cake should have,” Catelyn complained. “I almost fumbled our trade deals, having to suffer eating such bland pastries.” 

“I appreciate what you have endured to gain good prices for our people, cousin.” Jacaerys joked, accepting Alphonse into a hug and then Catelyn.  “Aegon will certainly appreciate it, I know.  He is having the time of his life, planning this upcoming hunt.  Claims it will rival the one for his second nameday!”

“How would he know how lavish it was?” Alphonse asked.

“I certainly don’t remember my own second nameday.  Perhaps he should plan my wedding, when I have it.  Please ask him for me, cousin.” The three made their way out of the large building, guards waiting outside with an open, topless carriage.

“Firstly, records of such events exist. Secondly, Aegon is like to have an apoplexy if Jacaerys asks that of him.” Catelyn said, climbing in first with the help of a guard.  “Being Master of Revels here is his true calling. Far too many Lords and Ladies to host for him to go gallivanting off elsewhere to plan a wedding.”

“Mother, you only say that because you have had my wedding planned since the day I was born and do not wish to be usurped from further preparations.” Alphonse grumbled.

“Hmm..” Jacaerys looked to the skies, Catelyn and Alphonse stopping their bickering for a moment, looking in the same direction.  A swift, vibrant white dragon was flying towards the open nesting grounds a little ways south of the city.  Daemon had come. 

Jacaerys climbed into the wagon next, sitting in front of Catelyn.

“Has he written?” Alphonse asked, finally climbing in last and seating himself next to his mother, looking to Jacaerys as the wagon began to move.  Guards on horses flanked both sides, trotting in pace with it.  Catelyn continued to look at Parthurnaax fading into the distance.  

“Not one raven, but Lord Royce has. He assures me the talks were pleasant..mostly.  Daemon was eager to know many things.  They went for a great many walks and had countless dinners running late into the night.”

“No doubt Royce will follow soon after on horseback.” Catelyn said, giving a small wave and smile to the people.  Many had now noticed the wagon containing the King driving by.  “My husband never was fond of traveling on dragonback.  The war was the only time he mounted Alduin with me.  I fear it may have ruined his experience with flying.”

Jacaerys nodded with a smile.  He knew Catelyn was avoiding it, talking of Daemon and the questions he would have of Aemond and Lyanna for all of them when he got to the keep.  No matter.  He would not force things.

“Now father is coming, perhaps you and him can see to the matter of arranging a marriage for me at-” Alphonse began, before abruptly being cut off by Catelyn.  She held up a stiff finger in his face. Her own parents had been a love match and she was determined that each of her boys would have the same fate. Her youngest, Orys, had already married.  Her other two sons were currently courting twin daughters in Dorne, grandchildren of Prince Doran.

“You are four and twenty. You will find your bride to be on your own.  How can you expect to be Lord of Storm’s End one day if you cannot even do this?” Catelyn scolded. “If we choose one for you, she might be the wrong fit.  The Stormlands would suffer if their Lord is too busy preoccupied with the conflict of a sour marriage.  No, you will do this yourself, Alphonse.”

“Mother, but I need-”

“Alphonse, Orys chose Margaery Tyrell himself, despite other maidens flocking around him.  I suspect he will become a father before the year is out.  You will make your own match. This matter is closed.”

“But Aemon had his marriage arranged! So did Lady Rhaena with Lord Lucerys! I don’t see why-”

“I do believe the Lady has spoken, Alphonse.” Jacaerys said, in a now stern tone. Alphonse looked to him pleadingly.  

“Cousin, please.  You could-”

 “Each Lord’s and Lady’s habits are their own.” Jacaerys said, cutting him off.  “I trust each of them to run my kingdom well and I will not interfere unless it is to avert disaster or right egregious wrongs, as is my duty.  You being too nervous to approach a prospective future wife hardly qualifies as a matter that needs my attention.” Jacaerys shrugged and waved to the smallfolk lining the streets. “Especially when you have three brothers who could take up the mantle of Lord…should you fail in your responsibilities to marry and sire heirs.” 

That final admonishment had its effect and Alphonse nodded in a defeated manner.  Jacaerys acknowledged his response, continuing his waves to the people of King’s Landing.

It never ended, this guiding of the younger generation, Jacaerys thought.   At 15, he could barely make his own brothers behave. Much yelling had been used at the time.  Now at 60, he seldom saw the need to raise his voice in court or around family. He corralled and kept his loved ones in line with such an ease he was sure his late stepfather would have been impressed.

As the wagon slowed coming into the Red Keep, Catelyn hopped off immediately, irritated.  Jacaerys bade Alphonse to stay a moment. “You are a handsome man, able with the sword and skilled with the bow.” He began in a low voice, only for them two. “You ride Caraxes.  You are kind and quick to make a joke.  Whatever could you possibly think is counting against you in finding a bride?” he asked, a hand on Alphonse’s shoulder. 

Alphonse mumbled something Jacaerys couldn’t quite hear. 

“Come again?” 

“...I said…the fact she does not wish to marry, for one…” Alphonse managed to say, barely loud enough to hear.  He was still looking anywhere but in the eyes of his King.  

Jacaerys paled.  Alphonse could only be speaking of one person.  His only granddaughter by Aemon, Daenerys…the complete opposite of her namesake in attitude, who declared every chance she could get that she would never marry again, no one would make her. Already widowed at eight and twenty, with no dragon and no children…Gods be good…

“Oh, does he know now?” came the voice from the gates.  Jacaerys and Alphonse snapped to attention of the speaker.  There stood Daemon Targaryen, windswept and grinning ear to ear.  

“Uncle!” Alphonse cried, leaping from the wagon.  Jacaerys smiled at the two reuniting, still in quite a shock at the recent development. Why on earth Alphonse thought springing a betrothal on Daenerys through him would work…It was beyond all sense…

The upcoming hunt was sure to be interesting.