AN:

This book (and "Flames Of Fate" series) strictly follow the show before it turns into a completely different path at some point. But I will be including scenes from the show in between.
Team Black or Team Green? This author has pledged her allegiance to the rightful Queen! All Hail Queen Rhaneyra!!
I wanted this (Flames Of Fate) series strictly dedicated to the Targaryens and only them. But I watched all these Tiktok videos of Davos Blackwood and now I want to place a fanfic for him in the series as well. What do you think? Do you'll want to read a Davos Blackwood fic?
Vote and comment for frequent updates!
Happy reading!!

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The grand hall of the Red Keep is adorned with the splendor befitting the Targaryen dynasty. The table is laden with an elaborate feast for supper, yet the atmosphere is fraught with tension. The Targaryen family and their close kin are present, each bearing expressions that reveal the strained relationships and unspoken conflicts that linger among them.

Daervon spots the silver-haired princess sitting on her own, looking bored. "Haelena, my sweet cousin," he calls out, approaching her with a smile. His arrival grabs the attention of Aemond and Aegon, who are talking at the end of the table.

Haelena's eyes light up at the sight of her friend. She immediately wraps her arms around him, giving him a hug. "Look how grown you are."

"So are you," Daervon replies warmly.

"You are one of the most notorious rakes in Westeros," Haelena teases.

"Thank you," Daervon says with a grin.

"Oh, it's not a good thing," Haelena chides, making Daervon pout. "Don't pout. Do you know what people say about you?"

"Like I care," Daervon shrugs. "Am I too late for your collection?"

"For the collection, yes," Haelena says, then brightens up. "But I can introduce you to my daughter."

"I would love to meet her," Daervon responds eagerly.

She grabs his arm and pulls him away from the ears of her family. In a whisper, she asks, "Is he here?"

"He is hiding in his bedchambers. Too cowardly to face you," Daervon whispers back.

"He should be," Haelena says with a hint of satisfaction.

"I will bring him along," Daervon promises.

"That would be nice," Haelena says, patting Daervon's cheek. He grins in response.

The door opens, and Viserys is carried in on a chair by the guards. The murmur of conversations dies down, and all eyes turn towards him. Once the king is settled at the head of the table, between his wife and eldest daughter, the rest of the family takes their seats.

Daervon sits between his sisters, giving a wink to Baela, who scoffs at her brother's annoying presence.

Viserys expresses his joy to see his family gathered tonight. "How good it is… to see you all tonight… together," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

Aemond and Daervon exchange glances from opposite ends of the table, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Prayer before we begin?" Alicent asks the king.

"Yes," Viserys nods.

The family members, mostly the Hightowers, reluctantly bow their heads, some with genuine reverence, others with thinly veiled disdain or disinterest.

"May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long," Alicent prays. "And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest."

"He had it coming," Daervon murmurs, earning a glare from Baela.

Otto shakes his head in utter disappointment, but Daemon looks smug from his chair.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems," Viserys declares. "My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes… and their betrothed."

"Hear, hear!" Daervon lifts his wine goblet to that, then drinks and shovels more food into his mouth, still boyish in his enthusiasm.

"Well done, Jace," Aegon says with a smirk. "You’ll finally get to lie with a woman."

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys… the future Lord of the Tides," Viserys adds.

"Hear, hear," Rhaenyra raises her goblet to her sons as those around the table do the same.

"You’ll be great," Rhaena whispers to her betrothed.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that," Aegon taunts.

"Let it be, cousin," Baela interjects.

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed," Jace warns.

Daervon chuckles, looking up to see Aemond staring at him. He raises his goblet and takes another sip of his wine without breaking eye contact, a smirk tugging at his lips. Aemond smirks back, imitating him from his seat. The exchange is filled with a mix of challenge and camaraderie, an unspoken connection that runs deep despite their differences.

Unknown to them both, Daemon watches the interaction between the two with a solemn expression. He is not pleased.

King Viserys stands with the help of his cane, his visage weary yet resolute. He glances around the table, taking in the faces of his kin—Rhaenyra, Alicent, Daemon, and others. The strained relationships are evident in their guarded expressions.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in the years past," Viserys says, proceeding to remove his mask, showing his disfiguration to all present. His emotions of pleading are clear. "My own face… is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight… I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a king… but your father. Your brother. Your husband… and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly."

Viserys sits back down, breathing heavily, his mask clanking in his hand.

Rhaenyra stands to give a toast to Alicent. "I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology."

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow," Alicent replies. She raises her cup for Rhaenyra in turn. "I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen."

Everyone raises their goblets, takes a sip from their wine, the mood turning a little positive, smiles blooming.

After their drinks, there is a short pause before Aegon stands up and approaches Baela. He takes the pitcher of wine from her side and pours himself a drink. "I, um… I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask."

Jace slams his fists on the table, standing up. Almost immediately, Aemond also stands up, looking at the Velaryon Prince with a glare.

Daervon watches with a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief and hidden calculations. He casually lays his head into his left hand as he swirls some wine around in the goblet in his right.

Prince Jacaerys clears his throat and raises his goblet with a smile. "To Prince Aegon and… Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles."

"To you as well," Aegon responds awkwardly as others drink.

Daervon’s eyes catch Helaena sitting quietly in her seat, her ethereal demeanor seemingly detached from the surrounding tension. She mutters softly to herself, her lips moving in an almost inaudible chant, her eyes distant and unfocused. Her serene yet disconnected presence contrasts sharply with the palpable strain among her siblings.

"Well done, my boy," Viserys murmurs approvingly.

Helaena stands up with her goblet to make her own toast to her cousins. "I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk." She makes a jape at her brother-husband, which elicits laughter from Daemon and praise from Otto.

"Let us have some music," Viserys suggests, and lively music begins to play by the band.

Jace asks Helaena for a dance, which she happily accepts. The servants continue to serve platters of roasted meat, fresh fruits, and exotic dishes from across the realm.

Tensions have simmered, and the hall hums with laughter and conversation, but Baela's attention is drawn to the dance floor where Jace, her betrothed, dances with their cousin, Helaena.

Daervon leans closer, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Are you jealous, my dear sister?"

Baela tears her gaze away from the dancers and raises an eyebrow at her brother. "No, brother. It's not jealousy."

He arches an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Really? Then what is it?"

Baela sighs, her eyes softening as she watches Helaena laugh at something Jace whispers in her ear. "I just wish Helaena had a different life. A happier one. One that isn't tied to Aegon."

Daervon's grin fades, replaced by a look of understanding. "Ah, I see. You're not wrong. She deserves better."

They sit in companionable silence for a moment, the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of voices filling the space between them. Then, Daervon clears his throat, his tone more serious. "Baela, about the ravens... I'm sorry. I know it was very wrong of me to not send any update on how I was. I know you were worried when I was back in the Silverlands for my trials."

Baela looks at him, her expression softening further. "It's alright, brother. I'm no longer angry. It's just how we are, isn't it? Our love language."

Daervon chuckles, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Yes, it is. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Baela smiles back, feeling a warm rush of affection for her brother. They continue their supper, the bond between them stronger than any words could convey. The hall feels less imposing, more like home, with Daervon by her side.

As the music swells and the night deepens, Baela leans closer to her brother, her voice soft but full of warmth. "Thank you, Daervon."

He looks at her, slightly puzzled. "For what?"

"For simply existing. You mean a lot to me, just as much as Rhaena does," she replies.

Daervon wraps an arm around her shoulders in a rare display of affection. "Always, sister. Always. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Baela smiles, feeling a sense of peace. "I know. And I will."

Daervon meets the eyes of her uncle, the king, who smiles at him sadly. He nods with a smile in return. Then, he sees Viserys looking on lovingly as he observes his family interact with each other happily.

However, the pain grows too great, and Queen Alicent calls for guards to escort the King from the room and end the dinner.

Then, Aemond is served a roast pig, causing Luke to laugh at him in remembrance of the childhood prank that he, Jace, and Aegon played on him.

In response, Aemond hits the table, causing the music to stop. He stands up and raises a toast to his nephews. "Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace… Luke… and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… hm… strong."

"Aemond," Alicent tries to scold, but it falls on deaf ears.

"Come… let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys," Aemond insists.

"I dare you to say that again," Jace challenges.

Aemond turns his head to face Jace. "Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?"

The silver-haired prince walks towards Jacaerys, who doesn't hesitate to throw a punch at Aemond's face, sparking a brawl.

Daervon inhales a long, deep breath while he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration as he watches Lucerys being pinned down to the table by Aegon, and Jacaerys pushed to the ground by Aemond.

Aemond chuckles and places his wine goblet back on the table as the brown-haired Princes are being held back by the guards, while Baela attempts to defend Jacaerys by fighting Aegon, but is held back by her sister.

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?" Alicent scolds as she approaches her second-born son.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," Aemond defends. "Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs-"

"Aemond," Daervon's intense gaze halts the silver-haired prince momentarily.

Just as Jacaerys is about to run towards Aemond once again, Daemon steps in to stop him.

"Go to your quarters. All of you go, now," Rhaenyra commands, and her children make their way out of the hall.

Daemon sighs, exchanging a challenging look with Aemond, causing the latter to back down.

Aemond looks back at Daervon for one last glance before making his way out of the hall.

Daervon gulps down the rest of the wine and places the goblet on the table before following the path of the silver-haired prince he admires the most.