the old, the true, the brave

princess!reader who feels lonely after her mother passed away with her only full sister, leaving her behind with her father, who quickly remarried and started a new family.

alys arryn is not a bad woman, not truly, she is almost like a mother, even and her newborn siblings are very cute, but she still misses her first family.

princess!reader who went to the ashford tourney because her maternal grandsire kept bothering her about marriage, and even driftmark, once her safe place, became just another too-big castle that made her feel small and alone.

so the opportunity to go on an adventure with her favorite uncles, her best cousin, and his very kind wife seemed too perfect to be true.

and too perfect it was, until aerion had to fuck things up, as always.

now princess!reader had to listen to how her paternal family was bad luck and full of horrible people, while her dumb cousin talked about family and honor with such a punchable face, and she could do nothing, because someone had already beaten her to it and given him a proper hit.

when she finally sees the one responsible for making her deepest wishes come true, she is completely enamored.

a giant of a man stands before them, trying to earn a chance to save his life from imminent death, and all she can think about is putting that big back of his to work, having his hands repair and maintain some of her personal fleet ships...

and don’t even get her started on his voice. she could hear it as clearly as the wind, growing louder and deeper as he shouted orders to a crew.

dunk was just as delusional as she was. he was there trying to escape visit of the strange. so he had to stay focused, but every time his eyes found hers, heat climbed up his neck to the tips of his ears.

in his mind, panic mixed with thoughts of a beautiful life with a goddess-level pretty princess... and a bunch of fat babies.

the plan was made that night.

the mourning period before she (or the crown) could start seeking another husband is of six moon´s turns, plenty of time to secure your own marriage.

so after letting the king and queen to fantasize about giving her to daeron, you did it.

the first step was learning the tendencies of the maids, who truly belonged to whom. it was useless to rely on Maris, who loved to report everything the princes did to the queen first, compared to Jenna, who came with prince Maekar’s household.

so Jenna was the choosen.

the plan after that was simple, like almost every night you would go to prince Daeron bedchambers, share the night with him and leave before even the sun caught you.

but this thime that routine would suffer a little change.

after dressing in the modest gown you had, you went to your prince’s quarters as usual, buyou made sure Jenna saw you first, and she quickly caught on the situation, your clothes and your path was enough to make the maid to run to the side of prince Maekar rooms.

Daeron suspected nothing of your cheerful state or eagerness to bed. if anything, he was more than glad to lie back and let you take charge, oh, and take charge you did.

when prince Maekar appeared in the chambers unannounced it was too late to do anything other than to ask both of you to meet him, the queen and the king early the next morning, and to you to return in that instant to your chambers.

Prince Daeron Targaryen, after his marriage to the Lady of the Tides, liked to share with anyone who was in his vicinity that in theory he was “Prince Daeron of House Velaryon” as he married into her house. The marriage had been arranged so that the young Velaryon claimant might rule in her own right, while binding once again the ancient blood of Old Valyria. In such a union the prince was the means the crown had to tie a promising force to their ranks. 

The first moon turn of their marriage produced what is remembered as the earliest of the three great paintings associated with Prince Daeron’s life.

This work can still be seen in the main hall of High Tide, the ancient seat of Driftmark, where it hangs between the portraits of the late Lord Jorgen Velaryon and his wife, Mya Rivers turned Velaryon, and that of Lord Jacaerys Velaryon with his lady wife, Baela Celtigar.

In the painting, the Lady of the Tides sits upon the Driftwood Throne, clad in her wedding dress of sea-green and silver. The garments are rendered with such richness that the colors seem almost to swallow the gaze of those who stand before the portrait. A slender circlet of silver rests upon her brow, from which pearls fall like drops of foam upon the tide, nearly blending with her silver-white curls. In her left hand she holds a dagger identified in Velaryon inventories as Pearl of Driftmark, a blade of Valyrian steel said to have passed from lord to lord since the days of Lord Alyn Velaryon, such dagger also can be seen in others artworks where the lords and ladies of Driftmark are the central event. 

At her right stands Prince Daeron.

His hand rests upon his lady wife’s, a gesture often interpreted by later commentators as a symbol of their strong bond and his place as her right hand off the seas. The prince himself is dressed not in the colors of his birth house, the royal family, but in more sea-green and silver, the hues of his wife’s house. A simple silver circlet crowns his head, set with a single pearl that matches the one worn by the Lady of the Tides. Though the prince’s head is turned toward the painter, the artist seems unable to conceal a certain truth: Daeron’s gaze, and indeed the posture of his whole body, remains fixed upon his wife.

The piece is known in the Velaryon records as The Lady and Her Prince, and is frequently referenced in accounts of first years of the lady’s reign.

The second painting associated with the prince lies not in the great halls but within one of the inner chambers of Driftmark Castle. Known simply as “The Heir", it was painted after the day when the couple’s firstborn son, Jacaerys Velaryon, was presented to the smallfolk of Driftmark.

The boy was the grandson of King Maekar, and heir to the Lady of the Tides. He is portrayed standing upon the upper landing of the castle’s main stair, dressed all in silver, waving a chubby hand toward the gathered crowd below. Behind him stand his parents. Prince Daeron is depicted in garments that match those of his son, his attention wholly fixed upon the child. One hand remains steady upon his lady wife’s lower back, while she herself steadies the young prince with careful hands.

Notably, the Lady of the Tides is shown with a faint crease of worry upon her brow, a detail many maesters have remarked upon when discussing the painting.

This work is often cited in descriptions of the old Velaryon custom of presenting an heir to the people only after the child has lived long enough to be considered blessed by their Merling King. Some later writers claim the rite to have originated in the belief that the ancient kings of the Narrow Sea approved such heirs if after some years they still had the gift of breathing. 

The painting is also frequently mentioned in connection with the peculiar distinction held by the boy himself. Jacaerys Velaryon was the second man of that name to bear the title of prince of the blood while carrying a surname other than Targaryen, and by certain counts he is remembered as the fourth Velaryon prince in the long history of the royal house.

The last of the great paintings depicting Prince Daeron was commissioned many years later by Jacaerys, after he rose to become Master of Driftmark.

At its center stands Prince Daeron in the midst of battle, captured in the moment of victory. His sword is raised high as he cries victory, the blade shining bright in his right hand. His armor is rendered in silver steel, while a sea-green cloak, very torn and darkened with foreign blood, whips behind him in the wind.

Beside him stands the Lady of the Tides, in armor bearing the seahorse of her house proudly on her chest. She is shown tall and unbowed, gazing forward like a conqueror while the bodies of fallen rebels lie beneath her feet. The prince’s free hand clasps her own, binding them together even amid the carnage of battle.

The painting was titled Victory of the Seahorses.

Though the work itself is now believed lost, it is mentioned more than once in writings concerning the events surrounding the Third Blackfyre Rebellion, where the deeds of both Daeron and his lady wife are said to have played no small part.

That´s why it would be not a surprise for anybody that had the luck of knowing your personality to see the rather pathetic scene you brought to yourself, on the floor of the Hand of The King, the Prince Baelor, on your hands and knees as if you were begging for a husband to be spared of some indiscretion, or a son to not be punished to much, but the truth of the show started was other.

You were begging to the heir of the king, the second most powerful man in the realm to vouch for you, to write in somewhere, that as the only child of the late Lord Velaryon it's only right for you and the law that all what was his now passed to your hands and not into your cousin's.

“Rise, my Lady” the kindness in the voice of the Prince surprised you a little bit.

Carefully you rose, slowly, without reaching your full height, head low allowing your tight silver curls to veil your face, hiding behind them any wrong expression, ah, men loved the curls; the silver color of them was like a fire, an expensive one that only attracted moths.

“I—I know, my Prince, that I perhaps ask too much,” you stammered, your voice trembling perfectly. “I likely abuse the generosity of the Crown by seeking aid as kin, as a house that has become so distant, but…”

“Do not fret my Lady” Baelor interrupted softly but firmly. “As a representative of the Crown, as your kin even if distant, I understand the importance of clarity in these matters.”

“Thank you, my Prince. I own a debt that I could never repay. My house shall be the most loyal the Crown has ever known.”

“I should hope so. However, as you know…”

The heavy thud of the oak door interrupted him. Who was dumb enough to interrupt the Hand of the King? You needed this to be settled quickly. You needed Prince Baelor to write to his father, the King, and the Great Lords so the succession would be sealed and your seat uncontested. If you had been born a son, none of this would be necessary, but you were born a girl with many cousins who were relentless, and very stubborn with the task of undermining your commands on land and in the sea.

You could seize the power of your house, by force make your cousins disappear and end this headache quickly, but then what? Being called an over-reaching cunt, a poor imitation of the half year queen, is not in your priorities. Your house would be in a worse state than it already is… You have to be more, more like The Sea-Snake, if that means that you would need to weep in princes feet to make them help you, well, better do it in the privacy of their quarters.

You prepared to turn, hoping the intruder was the King himself. Men without daughters were always more susceptible to a young girl’s tears. You have seen the king before, he seemed kind, maybe, if the gods were on your side, you could leave the capital with more than a royal decree about your inheritance.

But as you curtsied, a silent curse almost slipped past your lips. It was Prince Maekar. The fourth son. A man with four sons of his own and two daughters—a man who surely had no patience for "distressed" girls.

“Brother!”

“Maekar, I have a guest.”

These words worked like magic, as if prince Baelor's recognition lifted a shield that was hiding this young lady. Maekar’s gaze shifted to your "pitiful" form. He lifted a silver-gold brow, looking at your desperation as if it were a smudge of dirt on his boot.

“Who is she?” he asked bluntly.

A spark of fire lit in your chest, how dared he?. He was a prince, yes, but he was a fourth son, not even a second born, and you were brought often to kings landing, as the heir of one of the few valyrian houses left, the gods knew that Driftmark was not the same after the death of Lord Corlys, but House Velaryon is one of the greatest houses still. Your house gave Queens to their dynasty, the least a fourth son could do is know the main faces or the ones with the look some of the royal family lacked.

“I am–” you began, regaining your posture.

“I do not care,” Maekar cut you off quickly. “What do you want?”

“Brother, she is a Lady, and she is here asking for help from the crown…” Baelor started explaining as if his brother's tone was the usual.

“Ah, so she wants something.” He took some steps to analyze your face. “It did not look like it, your face does not have a lot of tears and your eyes are not red enough. Poor work. If you're going to play the victim, girl, try harder.

The moment Maekar called out your performance, the act fell. Your spine recovered its original state, straight, tall and proud, the type of stance that often was seen on lords and princelings. Your face without an expression, the quick change more than offend the princes, it rather amused them, for their own reasons. “My prince, I was taught that men should speak with a tender voice when the other person is a young girl.” Your gaze never left the younger prince, who almost let a chuckle leave his mouth. Almost.

“And I know that young girls are also taught to not lie, even less to the heir of the iron throne. I have two of you, you won't fool me.”

When all those words left Maekar's mouth, you remembered where you were, and the reason of your current situation, so in a breath you moved your body towards the prince that actually could do something for you, more than humiliate you.

“Prince Baelor, I am so sorry, nothing that I said was a lie, I can prove it!” You almost fell to your knees again, ready to kiss his feet if any of them asked you.

Baelor did not look offended, if anything, he looked thoughtful.

“Peace, my Lady,” he said, lifting a hand before his brother could speak again and make you fall into a weeping hour again. “No accusation has yet been made that requires proving, nor any offense has been taken.” He tilted his head like he was trying to read you again, the first time he did was when you requested a word with him the same day you came to Kings Landing, rejecting the hospitality of the welcoming party that was hurriedly made when they saw your sailing ship, Princess Baela, with the Velaryon flag.

“I will have the decree written by tomorrow, as law indicates, you were your father's chosen heir, and if we believe true your claims, your cousins are not the best option for the realm.” It was set, you felt like air entered your body again, soon you would have your decree, your driftwood throne and you could start with your house returning to glory.

“But, you have proven that you are also a strength to be wary, my lady.” Baelor spoke again, leaning with ease to his table, Prince Maekar that in that moment was long forgotten in your mind, had taken a seat in one of the chairs near the table, as if watching a puppet show, entertained.

“You–your grace, I can promise I am not a danger to the crown or their interest, I only want to take care of my fallen house.”

“I understand that. But if after that you set a new goal, or you decide to support a Lord husband with dangerous ambitions… maybe we should limit your house growth, or we could…”

“My prince! I beg you, please do not do that, I will serve the realm faithfully, and if marrying an ambitious lord is a problem I shall take a landless lord, or a knight, or I could take a small folk man as a husband…” for the first time being in Baelor's presence fear took over your body “Or even better!, I will take no man as a husband if it appeases your grace.”

“I could not ask you that, my lady, as a lady regnant, you will have possessed the same burdens as a Lord, but the rights too, and having an heir is one of them both.” He continued ”But what I can ask you is to marry someone of our choosing, as we will always have the interest of the Crown and the realm first and foremost.”

“Thank you, thank you, your grace! I will obey faithfully and without complaint.”