121 A.C
~The Red Keep~

... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..

THE GODSWOOD held a special kind of solace, in which people could bath until they were drunk enough of it. The plants around it would captivate anyone into settling down for a bit and just listen to the soft music of the birds, how they produced harmony with their voices, it could calm the people instantly. The Godswood in the Red Keep was a sanctuary of quiet beauty, a place untouched by the scheming and whispers that filled the castle halls. The heart tree stood tall and ancient, its white bark gleaming beneath the soft golden light that filtered through the canopy of red leaves. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, a world apart from the stone corridors of their home.

Daenys Targaryen knelt in the grass, her delicate hands carefully cupping a small blue winter rose. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, shimmering like woven moonlight beneath the dappled sunlight. She hummed softly as she worked, her violet eyes filled with quiet concentration.

Lucerys Velaryon, a step behind her, watched with fascination as she tended to the flowers. His own hands were stained with dirt, though he had yet to master the gentle touch Daenys possessed. His dark curls tumbled into his eyes as he crouched beside her, attempting to mirror her movements.

"You mustn't press too hard, Lulu," Daenys scolded softly, using the affectionate nickname she had given him long ago. "The petals bruise so easily."

Luke huffed, wrinkling his nose as he studied the fragile flower he had just mishandled. "Why do they have to be so delicate?" he grumbled, though he quickly corrected his grip.

Daenys smiled at him, her expression filled with patient amusement. "Because that's what makes them special. They need care, just like dragons and people."

Luke tilted his head, considering her words. "So, if I take care of them, will they love me back?"

Daenys giggled, the sound light and sweet as a summer breeze. "Perhaps not love, but they will bloom for you. And that is a kind of love, isn't it?"

Luke pursed his lips as if deciding whether or not he agreed, but before he could answer, a butterfly landed on one of the flowers beside them. He gasped, pointing excitedly. "Look, Nyssi!"

Daenys turned her head just in time to see the tiny creature flutter its wings, a brilliant shade of yellow against the deep green leaves. She clasped her hands together in delight. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

Luke grinned at her reaction, proud of his discovery. "Do you think it came because it likes our flowers?"

"I think it came because it knew you would love it," Daenys answered warmly.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the soft rustling of the leaves, the distant trickle of water from the small stream running through the Godswood. The castle might have been filled with politics and duty, but here, among the trees and flowers, they were only children—two best friends tending to their secret world.

As the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, Daenys reached out and gently tucked a small white blossom into Luke's dark curls. "There. Now you match the garden."

Luke scrunched his nose, pretending to be unimpressed, but the flush of happiness on his cheeks betrayed him. "Only if you wear one too," he declared, plucking a tiny lilac and tucking it behind Daenys' ear.

She beamed at him, and for a moment, all was right in their little corner of the world.

The peace was soon interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps. Jacaerys Velaryon, all of nine years old and already carrying the weight of responsibility upon his shoulders, strode toward them with an eager expression. His dark curls were tousled by the wind, and his brown eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Luke!" he called, his voice breathless with urgency. "Come quickly—mother has finished her labors! We have a new little brother!"

Lucerys' eyes widened with delight, his dirt-streaked hands forgotten as he leaped to his feet. "A new brother?" he echoed, turning to Daenys with glee. "Come, Nyssi, we must see him at once!"

Daenys hesitated, glancing around as if expecting someone to stop them. She knew her mother, Queen Alicent, would not approve of her running off with the princes of Rhaenyra's household. The Queen disapproved of many things, but most of all, she disapproved of Daenys' friendship with Luke.

"But—" she started, her voice small, yet Luke was already tugging at her hand, his excitement infectious.

"No 'but,'" he insisted. "You must meet him too! Come on! Mother will want you there!"

Daenys swallowed her uncertainty. The warmth of Luke's hand in hers made her decision for her. With a small nod, she followed them, their laughter echoing through the Godswood as they ran toward the castle.

Inside the Red Keep, whispers slithered through the halls like unseen serpents. Queen Alicent's disapproving gaze followed the children's retreating figures from where she stood upon a balcony.  Beside her, Ser Larys Strong, his hands folded on his stick, watching the scene with cool calculation.

"My daughter should not be so attached to them," Alicent murmured, her fingers tightening against the railing. "It is not proper and she might be corrupted."

Larys merely inclined his head. "She will learn, in time."

The rivalry between their mothers was a storm on the horizon, but for now, the children knew nothing of it. For now, they were only eager hearts rushing toward a newborn brother, blissfully unaware of the battle lines being drawn around them.

... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..

The halls of The Red Keep were dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of burning candles and fresh linens. Servants whispered to one another as the three of them hurried past, their anticipation growing with each step. When they reached Rhaenyra's private quarters, Jace pushed open the heavy wooden door without hesitation.

Inside, the room was warm, the fireplace casting golden light across the stone walls. Rhaenyra lay in her grand bed, pale but glowing with the aftermath of childbirth. Her silver-blonde hair was damp, her violet eyes tired but filled with warmth as she cradled the newborn in her arms.

"Come," she beckoned softly, her voice weary but affectionate. "Come meet your brother."

Luke hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, peering down at the tiny bundle wrapped in soft swaddling cloth. "He's so small," he whispered in awe. "What's his name, Mother?"

Rhaenyra smiled. "Joffrey," she said, her fingers brushing against the baby's downy hair. "Joffrey Velaryon."

Jace's chest swelled with pride as he looked upon his youngest brother. "He is cuter than you" he murmured glancing at Luke with a grin, Lucerys scoffed hitting Jace's arm.

Daenys stood a few steps behind, unsure if she should approach. She had never been this close to Rhaenyra before, and though she had heard the whispers of court—the ones her own mother had started—she had only known her as Luke and Jace's mother and never as her eldest sister. And now, here she was, smiling at her as if she were family.

"Come here, sweetling," Rhaenyra called gently, surprising Daenys. "You are welcome, always."

Daenys blinked, glancing at Luke, who grinned and pulled her forward. Hesitantly, she approached the bed, her wide purple eyes settling on the sleeping infant. He was beautiful, peaceful. She had never seen something so small and perfect.

"You may touch him, if you wish," Rhaenyra said softly.

Daenys hesitated before extending a delicate hand, brushing her fingers lightly against Joffrey's tiny fist. His fingers curled instinctively around hers, and she gasped, a small smile forming on her lips.

"He likes you," Luke said proudly.

Jace watched the moment unfold, his gaze lingering on Daenys. There was something about the way she looked at the baby, something soft and longing in her expression.

"You're very gentle with him," Rhaenyra noted, tilting her head as she regarded the young girl. "I have always wished for a daughter."

Daenys' eyes flickered up to meet Rhaenyra's, startled by the words. No one had ever said such a thing to her before. She wasn't sure what to say, but Rhaenyra's expression was kind, warm in a way that made Daenys feel something she hadn't before—belonging.

"You are welcome here, Daenys," Rhaenyra continued, as if she could sense the uncertainty in her. "No matter what the world says, you have a place with us, if you want"

Daenys' throat tightened with emotion, but she simply nodded, unable to put her feelings into words.

Luke, watching the way his mother looked at Daenys, felt something shift in him. A silent promise, perhaps, that he would ensure she always had a place here, just as their mother had said. "She could marry Jace one day, so that she will be part of our family forever" the young boy added with a hopeful smile.

Jace nearly choked on his breath, his brown eyes widening. "What?" he blurted, turning to Luke with disbelief. "That's—no, that's not—"

Luke smirked. "Why not? One day you'll need a wife, and Nyssi needs a home. It's perfect."

Daenys, caught completely off guard, blushed furiously and lowered her gaze, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. She dared not say a word. Alicent would strangle perhaps both her and Rhaenyra if something such as that would happen.

Rhaenyra chuckled softly, observing the exchange with mild amusement. "An interesting proposal, my sweet," she said, her eyes glinting with something unreadable.

Jace shot Luke a glare. "You don't just decide marriages like that, Luke. You will need a wife too but I am not deciding for you, am I?!"

Luke shrugged. "I think it's a good match." Then he grinned at Daenys. "And I know you wouldn't mind, right, Nyssi?"

Daenys, still beet red, opened her mouth but no words came out. She simply shook her head, unsure whether she was agreeing or disagreeing, too overwhelmed to say anything at all.

The conversation was soon interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Lady Talya stepped inside, her expression carefully neutral as she curtsied. "Princess Rhaenyra," she addressed respectfully before turning her gaze to Daenys. "Princess Daenys, your mother, Queen Alicent, has sent for you. She wishes to see you at once."

Daenys' breath caught, her heart pounding at the unexpected summon. The warmth she had felt only moments ago quickly drained away, replaced by an icy apprehension.

Rhaenyra's expression darkened slightly, but she nodded. "Of course. Daenys, you may go."

Daenys hesitated, then slowly rose to her feet, hands trembling at her sides. "I... I should go."

... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..

As she followed Talya, the halls felt colder, the flickering torches casting long, eerie shadows against the stone walls. The grand stairwell loomed ahead, and each step she took felt heavier than the last. Talya, walking beside her, noticed the slight tremble in Daenys' hands and gently took ahold of one, squeezing it reassuringly. "Do not worry, little princess," she whispered. "Everything will be alright."

But Daenys could not shake the dread pooling in her stomach. Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, sharp and filled with displeasure. You spend too much time with them, Alicent would say.

When they reached Alicent's chambers, Talya bowed and left Daenys alone. The heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing the Queen standing by her writing desk, the dim candlelight casting golden halos upon her auburn hair. She had not spoken yet, merely watching Daenys with that unreadable expression—the one that made Daenys feel as though her mother saw right through her, through her secrets, through her guilt.

Guilt. Was that what this was?

Alicent Hightower's chambers were a sanctuary of refinement and quiet elegance, befitting a queen. The large space was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting elongated shadows across the richly adorned walls. The scent of burning myrrh and rose oil lingered in the air, a calming yet melancholic fragrance that seemed to cling to every corner of the room.

The walls were covered in deep green tapestries embroidered with golden thread, depicting the noble history of House Hightower. Scenes of Oldtown's towering beacon and the citadel's learned maesters were woven in exquisite detail, reminders of Alicent's proud lineage. A massive hearth sat along the farthest wall, its carved stone mantle depicting dragons and the Seven-Pointed Star entwined—a silent declaration of her faith and the ever-present weight of Targaryen rule.

Alicent's writing desk stood near the window, its surface meticulously arranged with neat stacks of parchment, an inkwell of the finest black ink, and a delicate quill of swan's feather. A half-finished letter lay there, its words smudged where her hand had hesitated, as if lost in thought. By the desk, a silver tray held a goblet of spiced wine and a bowl of fresh figs and almonds, untouched.

The grand canopy bed was draped in rich green velvet, its headboard carved with the sigil of House Hightower—a blazing torch. The pillows were plump and adorned with intricate lace, and the sheets smelled faintly of lavender. Heavy curtains could be drawn to keep out the chill of the night, though this evening, they hung loosely, swaying ever so slightly with the draft that crept in through the chamber's high windows.

A set of cushioned chairs encircled a low table, where Alicent often took tea or entertained private guests. The table was set with a delicate porcelain tea set, painted with golden roses, a gift from her father or brother perhaps. Softly woven rugs covered the cold stone floors, their intricate patterns hinting at distant Essosi craftsmanship.

Candles flickered in golden sconces along the walls, their light mingling with the dim glow of the hearth, creating a space that was at once regal and deeply intimate. Despite its grandeur, Alicent's chambers carried a quiet loneliness, a reflection of the burdens she bore. It was a place of duty and reflection, a haven where she could momentarily set aside the weight of courtly intrigue, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Standing just beyond the threshold of her mother's chambers, she hesitated, her feet sinking into the thick woven rug as though the weight of her own thoughts had suddenly doubled. The room smelled of myrrh and rose oil, the same comforting fragrance that had clung to her mother's embrace since childhood, but tonight, it felt suffocating.

Daenys swallowed, but the lump in her throat remained. She had done nothing wrong, not truly, and yet her stomach twisted as if she had. She had spent the afternoon with Luke, had laughed too freely, had let herself forget—just for a moment—who she was, where she belonged. Or rather, where she did not belong.

Her mother would remind her. She always did, with gentle words laced in warning, with the soft press of her lips against Daenys' temple, a kiss that lingered long after she had left. A silent plea.

Do not get too close.

She knew Alicent loved her, but love, as Daenys had come to understand, was complicated. It was not the boundless, radiant thing the songs described. It was not what Lucerys gave her so easily, nor the quiet warmth she sometimes caught in Jace's gaze. Love, from her mother, was a fortress of protection, walls built high to keep the world—and its dangers—at bay.

But Daenys did not want to be walled in.

The flickering candlelight made shadows dance across the tapestries, and for a brief, ridiculous moment, she imagined them moving like figures in a play—her mother, the queen, standing tall with the weight of the realm upon her shoulders; Daenys, the child, standing in the doorway, caught between two worlds.

She felt cold, despite the warmth of the fire.

Would her mother scold her? Would she say Daenys had been careless, that she had spent too much time in the company of Rhaenyra's sons? The thought made her stomach clench. Not because she feared discipline, but because she did not know how to explain herself. She had no words for the ache in her chest when she thought of staying away from Luke.

So she stood, waiting, uncertain, a child once more in the presence of the only person who had ever truly shaped her world.

Alicent's gaze softened as she took in her daughter's anxious expression. "You must not spend so much time with Rhaenyra and her sons, Daenys," Alicent said gently. "It is not proper." She saw her younger self in Daenys more than she cared to admit, always afraid and worried about what others would think or what her father would say, but Alicent did not wish to put her daughter through such pain, the Queen did not tell this to anyone but out of all her children, Daenys was the only one she would do anything for.

Daenys lowered her gaze, unsure how to respond. She did not understand the deeper reasons, the whispered accusations of bastardy. She only knew that she felt safe with Luke.

Seeing her daughter's trembling hands, Alicent sighed and knelt before her, cupping Daenys' cheek. "I only want to protect you," she whispered before pulling her into a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You are my heart, my sweet girl."

For a moment, Daenys closed her eyes, allowing herself to be comforted, her small hands wrapping around Alicent's neck as she grazed her mother's fiery hair, whenever Daenys had nightmares and found trouble sleeping Alicent would sleep with her and let Daenys play with the red locks ascending past her shoulders.

"I... I love you, mama" Alicent stifled a sob at her daughter's words pressing another kiss to her temple then to her cheek.
"I love you more, my love" and she did, even if her youth had been stripped from her so easily, Alicent still tried to show love and care to her children but as it seemed she only succeeded with Daenys.

... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..

The Dragonpit was alive with the rumble of dragon roars and the intense heat of the fires that fueled the great beasts. It was a sprawling, open space where the Targaryens gathered with their dragons, practicing commands and learning to bond with the mighty creatures. Today, the pit was filled with young Targaryens—siblings and nephews—all eager to see what their dragons could do. The sun filtered through the stone arches, casting long shadows over the arena where the dragon keepers bustled, overseeing the children's training.

Daenys, the shyest of the group, stood near the walls, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, watching her brothers and nephews. She was small, and often quiet, preferring to remain in the background, not desiring the attention of her family. Her dragon, Seve, was a quiet creature—gentle, like her—and the two shared a bond of serenity, often wandering together in the caves rather than engaging in the more boisterous activities her siblings enjoyed.

Today, though, she had been quietly watching as Jacaerys, her eldest nephew, was put through his training with Vermax. Jacaerys stood tall, his posture proud as he commanded Vermax to split fire, it was his first time to say the word Dracarys and Jacaerys was eager to order Vermax.

"Zaldrizo aoho syt aeksio sagon ao bevilza, darilaros nuhys..." (You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young prince) the gatekeeper instructed Jace, seeing the boy unfocused on the task ahead.
"...hae Darilarot Aegot Vvsperzomy. Zijosy aot tetiri ozlettosy, toli rybagon zirylo vindilza." (As Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre. Once they're fully bound to you, they will refuse to take instruction from any other) the woman added to which Jace nodded stepping forward and smiling at the green dragon.

Aenora, standing beside Aegon and Aemond, watched with a mixture of interest and disdain. Aenora, always eager to find fault with anyone else, scowled. "It's not as if he's doing something special," she muttered, crossing her arms, her voice dripping with mockery.

Aegon, the eldest of their siblings and notoriously spoiled, chuckled. "Maybe Vermax is just humoring him. After all, who could really be impressed with someone like Jacaerys?"

"Can I say it?" Jacaerys asked as the dragon keeper nodded.  "Vermax," the prince said in a firm but calm voice, his tone carrying the power of his high Valyrian commands. "Dracarys."

At the sound of the command, the dragon's eyes flared a bright orange, as if in recognition of his rider's call. A moment later, the heat in the air intensified. Vermax raised his head, taking in a deep breath, his chest expanding as a thick, swirling column of fire erupted from his mouth. The flames were pure and blue at the tips, sizzling and snapping through the air as they shot toward the little goat that had been placed in the center of the pit.

The goat, caught by the sudden blaze, didn't have time to react as the flames engulfed it. Within moments, the creature was reduced to nothing but charred remnants, the scent of burning flesh mingling with the sulfurous tang of dragonfire. The heat from the blaze washed over the onlookers, making Daenys, who had been watching from the sidelines, squint against the intensity.

Jacaerys watched his dragon with quiet satisfaction as Vermax held the fire steady, ensuring that the flames consumed the goat completely. Once the dragon had finished his task, he lowered his head, panting lightly from the effort. The goat had been burned to a crisp, and there was nothing left but a small, smoldering pile of ashes.

Vermax, his hunger satiated by the fire he had just breathed, quickly moved toward the remnants of the goat. With swift and practiced movements, he consumed what was left of the charred remains, devouring the bits of meat and bone with an eagerness that only a dragon could possess. His jaws snapped and crunched as he ate, his movements graceful despite his little growing form.

Jacaerys smiled slightly, watching his dragon with fondness. Vermax had always been a loyal companion, and the bond between them was growing with each passing day.

Aegon grinned turning towards his brother Aemond, who had long struggled with the fact that he had never bonded with a dragon, unlike his siblings. And with every lesson, the taunts only grew. Daenys could feel the tension in his stance, the bitterness seeping from him like poison, and her heart ached for him, though she didn't dare speak. She wasn't sure if he would even listen to her, and she was painfully aware that any attempt to speak would only make things worse.

"We have something for you, little brother" Aenora smirked walking to stand on the other side of Aemond guiding him towards the entrance of the pit as Jace joined them while Luke rushed down where the caves of the dragons began.

"What is it?" Aemond asked raising a brow, curiosity picking in his violet eyes.

Aegon and Aenora shared an amused glance, "We found a real beauty for you," Aenora added, her voice filled with wicked amusement. "You'll love it, Aemond."

Jacaerys, his eyes glinting with mischief, stepped forward. "It's big and perfect for you."

Without further warning, Lucerys led the way back into the pit from the entrance of the caves, pulling a small figure behind him. Daenys' heart skipped a beat when she saw it—a pig, with makeshift wings attached to its sides. The sight was ridiculous, and the children's laughter rang through the pit, loud and insufferable.

Aegon, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard, managed to gasp out, "Aemond, meet your new dragon! The Pink Dread!"

Aenora grinned maliciously. "It might not fly, but it'll get you from one place to another. You could be the first Targaryen in history to ride something that isn't a dragon. I'm sure your pig would be more than happy to carry you."

Jacaerys joined in the laughter, his eyes sparkling with humor, but Daenys—though she had watched it all—couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort. She wasn't sure if it was out of kindness or simply a quiet, deeply rooted guilt for Aemond, but her heart went out to him. He didn't deserve this cruelty.

Aemond stood there, frozen in place, his face reddening in both embarrassment and fury. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Shut up," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. The taunts and laughter only seemed to drive him deeper into himself.

Jacaerys, Lucerys, and the others had begun to move on, but Daenys stood still, staring at her older brother. She took a step forward, her soft voice barely above a whisper.
"Aemond..." she called, hesitating. She wanted to reach out, to help him, to stop the others from treating him this way, but something inside of her made her hesitate. She had always been the quiet one, the one who stayed in the shadows.

But before she could take another step, Aemond spun around, his anger now fully unleashed. "Don't touch me, Daenys!" he shouted, his words cutting through the air like a blade. "You've done nothing but watch and say nothing. You're just like them."

Daenys recoiled, the harshness in his voice striking her deeply. His words were like venom, and she felt as if they had pierced right through her. She didn't know what to say, or how to respond. She just wanted to make things better, to help him, but she couldn't.

"I don't need your pity," he snarled. "I'll find my dragon. You and they all will see."
Aemond didn't give her another chance. With one last look of disdain, he turned and stormed into the dark caves where the dragons kept their layers, disappearing from view.

Daenys stood frozen in place, her heart heavy with guilt and confusion. She didn't know what to do—she didn't know how to make him understand. She wanted to help him, to tell him she was there for him, but the walls between them had only grown higher with every word he had said. How could she ever reach him now?

He had pushed her away and she felt utterly powerless.

... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ..

FINALLY UPDATED MY POOKIES!
DAENYS IS SO CUTE OMG😭🥹
AND Y'ALL ARE NOT READY FOR AENORA! SHES VICIOUS 😈
Love you and thank you for the support<333
PLEASE DONT BE SILNET READERS! AND COMMENT!😭🙏🏻