~128 A.C~
King's Landing

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(NO SILENT READERS. PLEASE🥰)

THE RED KEEP
The chambers were dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows against the stone walls. These rooms—once their home in childhood—felt both familiar and foreign now, as if the memories of their younger years had been buried beneath the weight of everything that had changed.

Vellena moved with quiet purpose, gathering a cloth and a basin of water from the small wooden table. She dipped the cloth into the cool water before kneeling beside Lucerys, gently pressing it to his forehead where Aegon had slammed him into the table.

"I'm fine," Luke muttered, flinching slightly at the touch but attempting to smile through the pain. His fingers brushed against the bruise forming on his temple. "It's nothing, truly."

Vellena arched a skeptical brow but said nothing, merely continuing her work with a soft touch. Jacaerys, sitting nearby, flexed his fingers as if testing for pain, though the stiffness in his movements betrayed him. His knuckles were bruised, the result of the force with which he'd struck Aemond, and the way he had been shoved to the floor afterward.

Vellena shifted her attention to him next, reaching for his arm. Jace, tense and watchful, hesitated as her fingers brushed against his skin.

"I can do it myself," he mumbled, pulling back slightly.

Vellena gave him a look—not unkind, but firm. "Stop being difficult," she said simply.

Jace clenched his jaw but let her take his arm, wincing slightly as she dabbed at the scrapes. The silence between them was thick, weighted by the unspoken tension that had simmered since the tournament that afternoon.

She worked carefully, her focus on the task at hand, but Jace could feel it—the lingering frustration between them, the distance he had put between them since that morning. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, hadn't wanted to admit that he had been cold, even cruel, to her without reason.

But she was here, tending to him despite it all.

The guilt gnawed at him until he could no longer bear it. He sighed, shifting his gaze away from her hands and to her face, where her expression remained unreadable.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his voice quiet but sincere.

Vellena's hands stilled for a fraction of a second before she continued. She didn't respond, but she didn't need to.

Jace swallowed, forcing himself to go on. "For snapping at you before the tournament. For acting like an ass at dinner." His throat felt tight, but he forced a small smile. "I should be happy for you. For you and Daeron."

He wasn't. He wanted to take a war hammer to Daeron's skull, to rip that stupid betrothal apart, to keep Vellena close. But none of that was possible.

Vellena finally looked up at him, her expression softening. And then, she smiled. It was small, but it was real.

Jace felt something loosen in his chest at the sight.

She extended her hand toward Luke, who hesitated for a moment before taking it. With a quick tug, she pulled him closer until the three of them were huddled together, warmth and familiarity replacing the cold tension that had filled the room before.

"I love you so much" Vellena whispered kissing Luke's hair then pecking Jace's cheek.

Luke sighed against Jace's shoulder, exhausted but content. Jace closed his eyes for just a moment, breathing in deeply. Vellena smelled of firewood and the faintest trace of dragon. It was maddening.

He held on a second longer than he should have, then let go.

Vellena pulled away, standing to her feet. "Good night," she said, her voice soft as she turned toward the door.

Jace watched her go, his eyes lingering on the space she had occupied, on the swish of her dress as she disappeared through the doorway.

The room was silent for all of three seconds before Luke cleared his throat dramatically.

Jace snapped his head toward his brother, only to find him smirking, an eyebrow raised in knowing amusement.

Jace scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Shut up."

Luke only chuckled as Jace all but threw himself onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow in exasperation.

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As Vellena entered her chambers, the familiar comfort of solitude settled over her. The evening had been exhausting—her head still buzzed with lingering emotions from the dinner, the fight, and Jace's unexpected apology. She needed to clear her mind.

Crossing the room, she reached for the ties in her hair, her fingers working through the braids as she stared at the reflection of the candlelight flickering against the dark wood of her desk. She had just begun loosening the strands when she heard it—footsteps.

Her hands stilled.

The door had been left slightly ajar, but she had not heard it open further. Still, a strange unease crept up her spine. Slowly, she turned toward the doorway, her breath caught in her throat.

For a moment, there was nothing. An empty hall beyond the threshold, dimly lit by torches.

Then, a shift in the shadows.

Vellena's stomach dropped.

Aegon.

He leaned casually against the wall just inside her chamber, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Beside him stood a man—a guard, no older than Aegon himself—who stepped forward and, without a word, closed the door with a sharp click.

The sound sent a shiver down Vellena's spine.

Her heartbeat quickened.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice steady despite the way her throat tightened.

Aegon's smirk widened, but his eyes were anything but amused. He moved toward her, slow and deliberate, the scent of wine clinging to him.

"You humiliated me," he said, his voice low, edged with venom. "In front of everyone."

Vellena barely had time to react before his hand shot out, gripping her wrist. She gasped, trying to yank herself free, but Aegon was faster. With a sharp shove, he threw her backward.

She stumbled, her balance lost, until she collided with something solid—the guard.

His arms clamped around her, holding her firm as her back pressed against his chest. Panic flared in Vellena's chest, her breath coming in sharp, frantic bursts as she struggled.

"Let me go!" she gasped, thrashing against the iron grip that pinned her.

Aegon only sneered, stepping closer, his eyes dark with something twisted. "You think you can spill wine over my head? Mock me like some—lady?" His voice dripped with disgust. "You're nothing. Just a bastard."

Vellena's struggles grew more desperate as Aegon's hands went to the fastenings of his pants.

"No—stop!" she cried, tears burning her eyes.

The guard behind her tightened his grip as Aegon laughed, dropping to his knees in front of her, their faces mere inches apart.

"You should know how bastard girls are used for," he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek.

Vellena let out a broken sob, her body trembling as she twisted violently in the guard's grasp.

Aegon chuckled darkly, amused by her fear. The guard joined in, his laughter sending a wave of dread crashing over her.

"Please," she begged, her voice barely a whisper now. "Please stop."

Aegon slapped her cheek once, then twice, the third time the guard let go off her and Vellena landed on the floor on her face. She could feel blood on her lips, her nose was bleeding, Aegon chuckled bending down and turning her on her back.

"I do not want you from behind" Aegon added with a grin, slowly pushing her skirts up, grabbing her legs and spreading them slowly. Vellena screamed, the tears and the blood mixing on her tongue as she fought to get away.

Her mind raced. Was this it? Was this how it ended for her?

The walls of her chamber, once a place of safety, now felt like a prison. The flickering candlelight barely reached the corners of the room, and the air was thick with the stench of wine and malice.

Then—footsteps.

Heavy. Fast.

The door burst open with a force that sent the candlelight flickering wildly against the stone walls.

Before Aegon could even turn, Daeron was upon him.

The younger prince grabbed Aegon by the collar of his tunic and, with a furious snarl, punched him square across the face. The force of it sent Aegon sprawling onto the floor, his body slamming against the stone with a sickening thud.

The laughter died instantly.

Aegon groaned, blood trickling from his split lip, but before he could react, Daeron was looming over him, his entire body trembling with rage.

"You dare touch her?" Daeron's voice was a low growl, barely restrained fury dripping from every word. His fists clenched at his sides as he turned to the guard, his piercing violet eyes ablaze. "And you—I will have your head for laying a hand on the princess."

The guard paled instantly, scrambling back toward the wall. "Prince Daeron, I—I only did as I was—"

"You only did what?" Daeron snapped, taking a threatening step forward. "Followed orders from a drunk, miserable excuse of a man?" He spat the words like venom, his gaze flicking back to Aegon.

Aegon, still sprawled on the floor, wiped the blood from his mouth and chuckled darkly. "Gods, brother. I was only having fun."

Daeron lunged.

He grabbed Aegon by the front of his tunic and hauled him up, shoving him back against the wall with a force that rattled the shelves beside them.

"Fun?" Daeron's voice was deadly quiet now, his breath ragged. "You call this fun?" His grip tightened, his knuckles going white. "If you ever touch my betrothed again—if you even look at her again—I will kill you with my bare hands."

Aegon's smirk faltered, just for a moment. There was something in Daeron's voice, in his eyes, that sent a sliver of unease down his spine.

Daeron meant every word.

A tense silence filled the chamber, broken only by Vellena's uneven breathing from where she sat on the floor, her body still trembling.

Aegon scoffed, his confidence returning, though his movements were sharp as he wrenched himself from Daeron's grip. He straightened his tunic, rolling his jaw as if unaffected. "Tsk. Such a devoted betrothed you are." His lips curled, but his usual arrogance was subdued. "Keep your precious little princess then. She's not worth the trouble."

Daeron's fists clenched again, but before he could strike Aegon a second time, the older prince turned on his heel. He cast one last glance at Vellena—an amused, knowing look—before sauntering out the door.

The guard followed in a rush, practically stumbling over himself as he fled.

Daeron's heart was still pounding, the echoes of his own rage thrumming through his veins, but all of it faded the moment he looked at Vellena.

She was trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to make herself smaller, as though trying to disappear. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and her violet eyes—so fierce, so full of fire—were now glassy with unshed tears.

Without thinking, Daeron knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms.

Vellena let out a choked sob as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her hands gripped the fabric of his tunic, holding onto him as if he were the only thing keeping her from shattering completely.

Daeron tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of her head as he whispered, "You're safe. I've got you."

Vellena's sobs wracked her small frame, her body shaking violently in his embrace. Daeron closed his eyes, pressing his chin to the top of her head, letting her cry. He wished he could take her pain, wished he had hit Aegon harder, wished he had killed him where he stood.

He pressed his chin to the top of her head, his grip firm but gentle. "It's alright," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper against her ear.

Daeron simply held her, his own fury simmering beneath his skin, but he pushed it aside for her sake.

After a few moments, her breathing steadied, though her grip on him did not loosen. Carefully, Daeron shifted, lifting her into his arms with ease. She was light—too light, he thought absently, as if she had been carrying a weight far heavier than herself.

He carried her to the bed, setting her down gently against the pillows before pulling the blankets around her.

"Stay here," he said softly, tucking a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear.

Vellena flinched slightly as he did, and Daeron's stomach twisted at the sight of the blood smeared across her face. Her nose had bled—perhaps from Aegon's rough shove or the panic that had overtaken her. He needed to clean it.

He turned, searching the chamber until he found a cloth. Dipping it into the basin of water, he returned to her side and carefully dabbed at the blood on her lips and chin. She winced but did not pull away.

Daeron worked slowly, his touch unbearably tender as he cleaned her face. "You'll be alright," he promised, his voice steadier than he felt.

Vellena watched him, her violet eyes still glossy with tears. Then, as he moved to stand, her hand shot out, grasping his wrist.

"Don't leave me alone," she whispered.

Daeron paused, then turned back to her with a small, reassuring smile. "I won't be long," he said, squeezing her fingers lightly.

She hesitated before nodding, releasing him reluctantly.

Daeron walked to the door, opening it just as a handmaid passed through the corridor.

"You," he called, his voice sharp and authoritative.

The woman halted immediately, bowing her head. "Your Grace?"

"Go at once and wake Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, Prince Jacaerys, and Prince Lucerys," Daeron ordered. "Tell them to come to Princess Vellena's chambers immediately."

The urgency in his tone sent the handmaid into motion instantly. She turned and hurried down the corridor, disappearing into the darkness.

Daeron exhaled, his hands still trembling with the rage he had barely contained. But when he turned back into the chamber, his expression softened once more.

Vellena was still watching him, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"They're coming," he told her softly, moving back to her side. "You're not alone, Vellena. Not now. Not ever."

Vellena sat on the bed, her body still trembling despite Daeron's comforting presence beside her. He hadn't let go of her hand, his grip firm and steady, grounding her in reality. But even with him there, the weight of what had almost happened lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.

Then, the door burst open again.

Rhaenyra was the first inside, her gaze stricken with worry as her gaze landed on her daughter. Behind her, Daemon stormed in, eyes sharp as a blade, followed closely by Jacaerys and Lucerys. A Maester trailed in behind them, clutching his medical bag, his expression grave.

The moment Jace saw the bloodied cloth on the bedside table, something inside him snapped.

His vision blurred with fury, and before anyone could react, he lunged at Daeron.

"You bastard—!"

Daemon caught Jace mid-stride, grabbing him by the arms and yanking him back before he could lay a hand on Daeron. "Stop this madness!"

"Get your hands off me!" Jace roared, struggling against Daemon's iron grip. His chest heaved, his face contorted in rage. His eyes were locked onto Daeron, who still sat at Vellena's side, her small hand still in his. "What did you do to her?!"

"Enough," Daemon snapped, shoving Jace back firmly. "Let him speak."

Daeron, who had remained still throughout the outburst, lifted his chin and met Jace's furious gaze head-on. His voice was controlled, but an undercurrent of anger ran beneath it. "I protected her."

Jace's nostrils flared, but Daeron pressed on before he could interrupt.

"Aegon and his guard forced their way into her chambers," he said, his fingers instinctively tightening around Vellena's hand as he spoke. "They grabbed her. Threw her to the ground." His voice dipped lower, almost trembling with restrained fury. "Aegon was going to—"

He stopped himself, jaw clenching. He didn't need to say the words aloud.

Jace's entire body shook. "Where is he?" His voice was eerily calm, his hands curling into fists.

Daemon tensed, sensing his stepson's intent.

"Where. Is. He?" Jace repeated, his voice like a low growl.

"He's alive," Daeron said coldly. "And you should thank me for not killing him myself."

Jace didn't care. He wanted Aegon dead.

He turned sharply, already marching toward the door, but Daemon's hand clamped onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"You will not go looking for a fight you cannot win," Daemon said, his voice low and dangerous.

Jace wrenched himself away, whirling to face his stepfather. "He tried to rape her!" His voice cracked with the weight of his fury.

The words sent a heavy silence through the room.

Rhaenyra, who had moved to Vellena's side, let out a sharp breath, her hand shaking as she reached for her daughter.

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Vellena close, her touch gentle yet desperate, as if reassuring herself that her daughter was still whole.

The Maester stepped forward then, kneeling beside the bed. "Let me see her, my princess," he said softly.

Vellena, silent through the chaos, allowed him to inspect her face. The Maester carefully touched her nose, pressing lightly as he examined the damage.

"It is not broken," he announced after a moment. "The bleeding was likely caused by the sudden distress."

A visible wave of relief passed through Rhaenyra, but her eyes still glistened with unshed tears as she brushed Vellena's hair back, her thumb tracing soothing circles against her daughter's hand.

Lucerys stood beside Daeron, fists clenched at his sides. His usually bright, boyish face was dark with quiet anger, his brown eyes locked onto Vellena as if silently vowing to avenge her.

Vellena, feeling his gaze, offered him a faint smile—small, but reassuring. She lifted her free hand toward him.

Luke hesitated only a moment before stepping closer and taking her hand.

Without a word, he brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her bruised knuckles.

A silent promise.

Vellena exhaled slowly, comforted by the presence of those she loved, but deep inside, the weight of what had nearly happened still lingered.

Rhaenyra sat on the edge of Vellena's bed, running her fingers through her daughter's silver hair in a soothing motion. But her face was set in cold determination.

"We leave for Dragonstone. Tonight."

Daemon, standing near the window, gave a curt nod. "Agreed."

Jacaerys, still bristling with fury, exhaled sharply. "Finally."

Luke sat up from the bed saying "I'm going to wake Baela and Rhaena" as he walked out of the door.

Rhaenyra turned to Daeron, her expression softening. She reached for his hands, squeezing them tightly. "Thank you," she said, sincerity laced in her voice. "For saving my daughter."

Daeron, ever composed, gave her a small nod. "She is my betrothed. My duty was clear."

But when his gaze flickered back to Vellena, there was something in his eyes—something more than duty.

As the family hurried to prepare for departure, the castle was thick with tension. The halls whispered with rumors, servants scurrying as they sensed the shift in power looming over them.

At the entrance of Maegor's Holdfast, the carriages awaited. The night was cold, the wind sharp.

Daeron stood beside Vellena, wrapping her in a thick cloak before guiding her toward the carriage.

"You'll be safe on Dragonstone," he murmured.

Vellena nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "And you will be safe in Oldtown?"

Daeron gave a half-smile, though there was something bittersweet in it. "As safe as one can be in this damned kingdom."

Vellena hesitated before reaching for his hand. "Write to me."

Daeron exhaled, then, without a word, pulled her into his arms.

Vellena stiffened for only a moment before melting into the embrace, her face pressed into his shoulder. His scent—warm, like smoked cedar and leather—calmed her racing heart.

And then, before she could even think to stop herself, she tilted her chin up.

Daeron met her gaze, something unreadable flickering in his blue eyes. And then, as if drawn together by an unseen force, he leaned in.

Their lips met.

The kiss was soft—brief—but it sent a shiver down Vellena's spine.

Jace, sitting inside the carriage, gripped the edge of his seat so hard his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched as he watched them, his blood boiling.

Lucerys, beside him, let out a low chuckle. "I'm always right," he muttered under his breath.

Jace shot him a glare that promised violence.

As Daeron and Vellena finally pulled apart, he pressed one last kiss to her forehead before helping her into the carriage.

Their gazes lingered—one final, unspoken goodbye—before the door closed, and the carriage rattled forward.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

BLACKWATER BAY
The ship swayed gently as it cut through the dark waters, the salty breeze whipping through Vellena's silver hair. She stood by the railing, staring out into the vastness of the Narrow Sea, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. The cold night air did little to cool the heat still lingering on her lips from Daeron's kiss.

Soft footsteps approached. She didn't need to turn to know it was her mother.

"You should be resting," Rhaenyra said, coming to stand beside her.

Vellena exhaled. "I can't sleep."

Rhaenyra was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "What happened tonight..." she hesitated, "I should have never let us stay in that cursed Keep for so long."

Vellena turned to her, seeing the worry etched in her mother's face. "It wasn't your fault, Mother. Aegon—he's vile. He would have done it regardless of where we were."

Rhaenyra's jaw tightened. "And yet, I let my daughter be betrothed to a family of snakes."

Vellena lowered her gaze, gripping the railing. "Daeron is not like them."

Rhaenyra studied her daughter closely. "You care for him."

Vellena hesitated before nodding. "He saved me."

"That does not mean he will always be able to," Rhaenyra warned gently. "You are a princess of House Targaryen. Our family has never been fortunate when it comes to love."

Vellena frowned. "You love Daemon."

A small, knowing smile played at Rhaenyra's lips. "And before him, I loved another."

Vellena looked at her mother with a knowing expression, she could Rhaenyra was not speaking about Laenor but about Ser Harwin.

Rhaenyra continued, her voice quiet. "Love is... complicated. Duty is simple." She sighed, brushing a strand of hair from Vellena's face. "Whatever you feel for Daeron now, remember that the Greens are not our allies. No matter how kind one of them may seem."

Vellena turned her gaze back to the sea, uncertainty clouding her heart.

"Are you happy with Daemon?" she asked after a long pause.

Rhaenyra smiled faintly. "I am." She glanced toward the dark sky. "But happiness is a dangerous thing, Vellena. It makes you forget the world is cruel."

Vellena didn't know what to say to that.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently. "You will be safe on Dragonstone. We all will be."

Vellena nodded, wanting to believe her.

Then came the sound of boots against the wooden deck.

Daemon.

Vellena's posture stiffened immediately. She turned before he could say anything, her violet eyes meeting his in the dim lantern light.

She had never liked him.

To her, Daemon Targaryen had always been the shadow that loomed over her childhood, the man who had taken her father—her true father—from her. Laenor Velaryon may not have been perfect, but he was hers. And after his death, Rhaenyra had wasted no time in wedding Daemon, solidifying the man's place where Laenor should have been.

She looked at him now, a silent storm brewing in her gaze.

But she was not a child anymore. She would not start a fight where one did not need to be had.

So instead, she simply nodded and murmured, "Thank you."

It was quiet, barely more than a breath. Acknowledgment for his presence, for standing between Jace and foolish recklessness tonight. Nothing more.

Daemon tilted his head slightly, watching her with an unreadable expression. Then, as if amused, the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk.

Vellena turned and walked away, her silver hair catching the light as she disappeared into the depths of the ship.

Daemon watched her go before shifting his gaze back to Rhaenyra, his smirk softening into something fonder.

"She is more like you than you realize," he murmured.

Rhaenyra exhaled, shaking her head. "She despises you."

Daemon chuckled. "Most people do."

Rhaenyra shot him a wry look, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Daemon stepped closer, his fingers brushing against hers. "You're troubled."

"How could I not be?" she admitted, voice laced with exhaustion. "Aegon tried to harm my daughter, and we sail home without knowing what fate awaits us."

Daemon was silent for a long moment. Then, in that quiet, steady way of his, he promised, "No one will ever touch her again."

Rhaenyra turned to look at him, something unspoken passing between them. A shared understanding. A shared wrath.

"No," she agreed, her voice cold as steel. "They won't."

For back in the Red Keep, the hour had come.

King Viserys I Targaryen was dead.

And the usurpation had begun.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

IM WORKING HARD THIS WEEKEND LOL😭
Next chapter Jocelyn and Rhaenys best daughter and mama😌
Love y'all. Thank you for all the love and support<333
Hope you like it!💗