━━━━━━━━━━━🗡️━━
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐈𝐍 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝑯𝑶𝑻𝑫
⛧°。 ⋆༺ sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ ༻⋆。 °⛧
━━━━━━━━━━ .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗━

𝔗he wind howled outside the great stone walls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the briny scent of the sea. The island seemed alive with the rumble of the waves crashing against the rocks, the deep sound reverberating through the halls as Daemon Targaryen stood before the cradles of his twin sons. The babies, still too small to understand the world around them, rested peacefully in their beds, their violet eyes occasionally fluttering open before they drifted back into sleep. Their white hair, now just beginning to grow longer, shimmered in the low light of the chamber.

Daemon gazed down at them for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

He had taken them from Runestone. He had claimed them, despite his coldness and the cruelty he had shown their mother. They were his now, his sons, though they still carried the blood of Rhea Royce and the house she belonged to. He would raise them as his own, even if it meant renaming them, remaking them into something stronger, something more worthy of the Targaryen name.

With an air of finality, Daemon reached for the small dragon eggs that lay at the foot of the cradles, their smooth, dark shells still warm from the heat of the fire. The eggs had been carefully placed there after his arrival at Dragonstone, a tradition Daemon knew well-a mark of legitimacy and power. He gently lifted them, the faintest of cracks now forming on their surfaces, the first sign of life within.

"Aeron," he said, his voice soft but firm as he placed one of the eggs next to the first twin. The second egg followed soon after, nestled by his other son. "And Vaegon."

Their names would carry weight, a mark of their birthright. He would not allow anyone to call them by the names of the Royce line, not when he had plans for them that stretched far beyond what their mother could have ever hoped. These were names suited to sons of the dragon.

Daemon stepped back from the cradles, his gaze lingering on the tiny forms of his children. The moment was sacred, though he would not admit it to himself. This was his legacy now, and he would do what was necessary to ensure that it thrived.

A soft knock on the door brought him back to the present, and the door opened to reveal a maid, a young woman who had been with him since his arrival at Dragonstone. She stood in the doorway, her eyes downcast in deference to the Prince, but her curiosity burned through.

"My lord," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "What clutch do they come from?"

Daemon's gaze shifted briefly to the eggs, still warm in the cradles. He'd known the question would come. He had anticipated it, but he was not yet ready to reveal all. His eyes flicked to the maid with a knowing smirk.

"Syrax."

The maid blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing slightly. "Syrax, my lord? But... why not Dreamfyre's clutch?" Her voice trembled with the weight of the question, but her curiosity could not be hidden.

Daemon's lips curled into a smile, a small, calculated thing. "Because Princess Rhaenyra offered this clutch to me herself."

The maid stood frozen for a moment, processing the information. Daemon could see the wheels turning in her mind, and a slight flush crept into her cheeks at the implication. She swallowed and hesitated before speaking again.

"I... I see, my lord." Her voice was a little less shaky now. "Do you think the Princess will be wedding Sir Laenor soon?"

Daemon's expression hardened just a fraction, though his tone remained casual. "Yes," he replied simply. "She will be."

The maid bit her lip, her eyes lowered again as she dared not speak further, but the silence between them was thick with unasked questions and unspoken truths. The mention of Rhaenyra's impending marriage brought with it a wave of coldness that Daemon couldn't shake. It was a marriage he would have to endure, a marriage that would shift the balance of power. But for now, he had other matters to focus on-the twins, their future, and his legacy.

"Is there anything else?" Daemon's voice was cool, dismissive. He had little patience for the maid's curiosity now.

The maid seemed to sense his growing disinterest and quickly stepped back, bowing her head. "No, my lord."

Daemon watched as she exited the room, the door closing softly behind her. He was alone with his sons once again.

He turned back to the cradles, staring down at Aeron and Vaegon, his thoughts turning inward as he wondered what their future would hold.

The twins would be raised at Dragonstone, their destiny intertwined with the dragonlords and their birthright. Daemon could feel the weight of that future bearing down on him, knowing that his decisions now would shape everything to come.

But for now, all he could do was watch them sleep, his blood running cold as he realized the task ahead of him was far from over.

His eyes flickered to the cradles again. The sight of them, so small, so innocent, filled him with a strange, uncomfortable mix of emotions.

He wasn't ready to care for them. He had never learned how to care for anyone but himself. The thought of the responsibility he now carried-of nurturing these children, seeing them through their childhood, ensuring they survived a world as dangerous and unpredictable as Westeros-made something tighten in his chest.

But then, there they were, the very embodiment of his bloodline. The soft, almost imperceptible movements of their tiny limbs. The fleeting way they cooed in their sleep, their soft breaths rising and falling like the waves that crashed against the cliffs below.

╰┈➤ Eight Months Later.

ℑt had been eight months since Daemon Targaryen had taken his sons from the cold, stone walls of Runestone and brought them to the warmth of Dragonstone. Aeron and Vaegon had changed over the months, their once-fragile bodies now more robust and full of life. At nine months old, they had started to babble and giggle, their violet eyes full of curiosity as they clutched the tiny dragon figurines Daemon had placed in their hands.

The passage of time had been strange for Daemon. He had never expected fatherhood, never wanted it. But these children, his children, had slowly wormed their way into his heart. The cold walls of the Dragonstone castle felt less lonely with the sound of their laughter echoing through the halls. Though he still wasn't fully accustomed to the duties of being a father, he was learning-slowly but surely.

Daemon's life had changed drastically over the past eight months. Rhaenyra was now the true heir to the Iron Throne, her marriage to Laenor Velaryon solidifying her position. Daemon, no longer in the running for the throne, had taken solace in his growing family and his new marriage to Laena Velaryon, Laenor's sister. The two of them had built something unexpected, but undeniably good. Laena had proven herself to be more than just a wife-she had become a mother to Aeron and Vaegon, showering them with care and affection that Daemon had never thought would be possible for him.

The days on Dragonstone had been filled with quiet moments, the peaceful sounds of the island only broken by the occasional roar of Vhagar or the trill of Caraxes. Laena and Daemon had forged a life together here, far from the chaos of King's Landing and the intrigues that surrounded the throne. Their marriage had grown stronger with each passing day, and Laena had been the perfect stepmother to the boys, making a place for herself in their lives.

Daemon had always been a man who took what he wanted, but Laena had a way of softening him. She had won over his heart in a way that even he couldn't quite explain.

One quiet evening, after a day spent caring for the boys, Laena and Daemon made their way back to their chambers. They walked hand-in-hand through the corridors of Dragonstone, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls.

"They're growing quickly," Laena murmured, looking back toward the nursery.

Daemon nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "They are. Too quickly for my liking."

Laena laughed softly. "They'll grow up faster than you can blink."

Once in their chambers, they exchanged their evening greetings, and Laena gently kissed Daemon's cheek before climbing into their shared bed. Daemon joined her shortly after, the warmth of her body beside him a comfort he had learned to cherish.

The night was calm, the sounds of the sea just outside their window soothing them into sleep. But the peace was short-lived.

Around the middle of the night, the soft sound of a knock echoed through their chambers. A maid, breathless and wide-eyed, entered the room, her hands trembling as she approached the bed.

"My lord, my lady," she gasped, barely able to keep her composure. "The eggs! They've hatched!"

Daemon's heart skipped a beat. Laena, too, immediately sat up, her hair tumbling from its braid as she looked to Daemon with surprise. They both wasted no time. Without a word, Daemon stood, swiftly pulling on his tunic as Laena followed suit, both of them hurrying toward the door.

The maid led them through the dark halls of Dragonstone, the torches along the way casting eerie shadows. Daemon could feel his pulse quickening, his mind racing as they neared the nursery. The room was dim, but as they entered, the sight before them stopped both of them in their tracks.

Two hatchlings were curled up next to the twins. But there was something strange about it.

Daemon's eyes flicked from the cradles to the egg that still lay whole beside them. Only one of the eggs had hatched, yet two dragons-two hatchlings-had emerged.

The first hatchling, its red scales glistening in the low light, lay nestled with Aeron, its tiny body curled protectively against the baby's small chest. The other, another hatchling of similar red hue, had made its way into Vaegon's cradle, its head resting near the infant's cheek, their tiny forms pressed together in an almost instinctual bond.

Daemon's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the two creatures, their eyes-still barely open-glowing faintly in the dim room. The dragons were small but unmistakably powerful. Their scales shimmered with a deep crimson, the same red hue Caraxes.

"What is this?" Daemon murmured, stepping closer to the cradles, his eyes darting between the hatchlings and the egg. His voice was thick with disbelief.

The maid, who had been standing by the door, nervously shifted. "I was just checking on the babes, my lord. Only one egg hatched... but two dragons emerged." She hesitated, almost unsure how to continue. "One curled up with the boy, Aeron, while the other... crawled right into Vaegon's cradle."

Daemon's thoughts raced. It was a rare phenomenon, this-two dragons from the same egg. He had never heard of such a thing happening, but there they were. It was not only extraordinary; it was unprecedented.

Laena stepped forward, her voice quiet but filled with wonder. "They're meant to be together."

Daemon glanced at her, then back at the hatchlings. The connection between the boys and their dragons was undeniable. The way the dragons had instinctively chosen their cradles. The bond already beginning to form.

"Aeron, Vaegon," Daemon murmured under his breath, almost as if testing the names on his lips once again. It felt like a prophecy unfolding before him.

Laena placed a hand gently on his arm. "They're special, Daemon."

Daemon's gaze softened for a brief moment before he pulled his attention back to the hatchlings. He had always been a man of action, of conquest, but now-this was something different. Something fragile. Something that could not be forced into a mold.

"Yes." He looked down at his sons, their dragons now beside them. The future was uncertain, but this-their bond-was real.

Daemon Targaryen had never been ready to be a father. But he was ready for this. For them.