It's been ten years since the fateful wedding of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon. Ten years of platonic love between the two, ten years of affairs, of lovers. Of children. Four children to be exact.
Rhaenyra Targaryen was the daughter of Viserys I, King of the Seven Kingdoms, King of all of Westeros. Many years ago, after the death of his wife, seeing as Rhaenyra was his only child, he declared her his official heir.
This was not a decision to be taken lightly.
No precedent had been set for such a decision.
No Queen had ever sat the Iron Throne.
After the trying day following the birth of her youngest child, Rhaenyra was resting in her quarters, barely listening to Laenor's explanation for his comings and goings. There was a knock at her door and her boys filed into the room, followed by Ser Harwin Strong, the Commander of the City Watch. Laenor stood, nodding once to Harwin before leaving. The boys laughed loudly, the room filling with their happy voices.
"How was training today?"
Both of the boys began talking at once, explaining how Jace fought the straw man and Aegon had laughed at Luke for falling down. Rhaenyra met Harwin's gaze and their voices fell quiet in her ears. They both understood the words that passed between them. The words of admiration, the words of caution. She nodded, yes they would have to be cautious. Everyone whispered about her children. They bore no resemblance to their supposed father. As with all of Rhaenyra's children, Laenor's dark skin and silver hair were nowhere to be seen.
No one seemed more interested in the appearance of her children than Alicent Hightower. Alicent had been her childhood friend. They were each other's better half, confidants, sisters. Until King Viserys, Rhaenyra's father, declared that he would wed Alicent Hightower. Their relationship frayed even further through the years, lies and betrayals and children and lovers pushing them further and further apart.
House Hightower was one of the great houses in Westeros. They were an increasingly powerful house, they hailed from Oldtown and guarded the Citadel, a place of sanctity and knowledge. Alicent's father, Otto, had served as Hand of the King since before Rhaenyra could remember. Otto Hightower was the voice of relative reason, providing the king with advice, caution, and friendship. And over the years since her wedding and coronation, Queen Alicent Hightower had given King Viserys four heirs: Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron.
The question of their birth had never and could never be questioned.
It was this fact that kept the wounds of the past open and fresh. This fact that gnawed on Alicent and Rhaenyra.
She knew what Alicent wanted. Alicent wanted Aegon to be proclaimed as the king's heir, since he was, in fact, Viserys' eldest son. Alicent wanted everyone to see Rhaenyra as nothing more than a common whore. A foolish princess who could not provide her husband with true heirs.
Alicent was right, of course, but Rhaenyra and Laenor could never be with each other in that way. They loved each other, that was true. He had quickly become someone she relied on, her closest friend and ally against the cruelty of the capital, King's Landing, and the people in the court of the Red Keep. And he loved her, yet he always yearned for another...man.
But her four children had taken her husband's name. Rhaenyra, with the unfailing support of her father, had stood against the naysayers at court. She had decided to name her eldest son, Jacaerys, as her heir, which had started a whole host of opinions and judgments. Not only was she a whore, but now she was a hypocrite too.
The door opened again and Aemma floated in the room.
Aemma Velaryon was the eldest. She had her mother's eyes, a purple tinted blue that shimmered behind a mass of unkempt brown curls. She was playful and wild like her mother when she was young. Aemma was fiercely protective and loyal to her family and house. Though, there was a mysterious air about her, she would often fall into bouts of silence, only speaking when spoken to. No one knew what caused it, but in a few hours or days she would return to normal, always speaking and thinking way beyond her years.
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Children of Dragons | Aemond Targaryen
Fanfiction"It had been a long time since Aemond had known real fear. So long that he couldn't even recognize the feeling when he came upon the man drowning his betrothed in the bath. That fear was replaced with anger. Rage. He had known rage. He knew it well...
