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Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories:
F/FF/M
Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)Game of Thrones (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Relationships:
OC/Helaena TargaryenDreamfyre | Helaena Targaryen's Dragon & Helaena TargaryenDaemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra TargaryenHelaena Targaryen/Original Male Character(s)
Characters:
Helaena TargaryenDaemon TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenKermit TullyDaeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I)Aegon II TargaryenAemond "One-Eye" TargaryenAlicent HightowerOtto HightowerJeyne ArrynOriginal Rhea Royce/Daemon Targaryen Child(ren)
Additional Tags:
The Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen EraAutistic Helaena TargaryenHelaena Targaryen Deserves BetterDragon Dreamer Helaena TargaryenOriginal Character(s)
Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of The Bronze Dragon Next Work →
Collections:
Heroes hive👀
Stats:
Published:2022-10-28Completed:2024-10-27Words:301,770Chapters:97/97Comments:984Kudos:2,279Bookmarks:487Hits:168,928
The Bronze Dragon
kornerbrandon, orphan_account
Summary:
Daemon Targaryen always despised his first wife, Rhea Royce. It was a marriage that he was forced into, one that was an inconvenience to him. Yet, after one drunken night together, from their unhappy union springs Daevar Targaryen. As the years pass and the Dragons begin to Dance, will Daevar will have to forge a new path away from the Green and the Black.
Chapter 1
Chapter Text
The Dance of the Dragons was perhaps the most traumatic event in our land's history. Civil wars are always vicious, but with dragons on all sides of the Dance, this proved to be the worst. House Targaryen fought itself, and by the end, the family was down to a mere handful.
Less if you consider some to be merely 'half-Targaryen'.
The Maesters have written their own histories of this war. Too many accounts are romanticised or demonised views of all sides, including my father's own, which caused no little amount of consternation from him. My father always preferred hard reading of history.
The Maesters will name me liar. Let them. They were not there.
As I begin this account, I ask you to remember that this is the closest to a true story of the worst war in our country's history, meant as a reminder that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself.
Throne Room of the Red Keep
112 Years After Conquest
Part of him already knew why he had been commanded to the throne room, and he had been kicking himself over it. Perhaps his speech in that brothel wasn't the smartest thing that had ever been done, even with all the stunts he had pulled over the years. Dark Sister still hung from his hip, of course, but it would be of little use against his own brother. His brother was no great warrior, but he did have the Kingsguard.
Prince Daemon Targaryen entered the throne room, still apprehensive of what was about to happen. Looking up, King Viserys seemed to have taken things seriously for once. He was dressed up in his full royal regalia, complete with Blackfyre, the Sword of Kings itself, in his hand with the tip on the ground. All seven of his Kingsguard were there as well, and they seemed to be ready to fight.
"You cut the image of a conqueror, brother." Daemon said. Seated up there with Blackfyre in hand and back straight, his brother really did look every inch the king he should've been. He couldn't deny that it was an impressive sight, even to him.
"Did you say it?" His brother demanded. Daemon stopped short of the throne. His brother had always been a lighthearted man; to hear him speak with such severity gave Daemon images of their father and grandfather.
"I don't know what you mean." It was an instinctive response, more than anything.
"You will address me as Your Grace, or I will have my Kingsguard rip out your tongue." Viserys growled. " ' The Heir for a Day'… did you say it?"
Daemon had been caught, and he knew it.
"We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace." He averted his eyes. Daemon was not usually a man to feel shame, but seeing his brother now, he couldn't help but feel it.
"My family has just been destroyed." Viserys said, struggling to hold back tears. "But instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra's… YOU CHOSE TO CELEBRATE YOUR OWN RISE! LAUGHING WITH YOUR WHORES AND YOUR LICKSPITTLES! You have no allies at court but me! I have only ever defended you! And everything I have given you, you have flung back in my face!"
Daemon's gaze hardened. He couldn't let this stand. "You've only ever tried to send me away! To the City Watch, to the Vale, to anywhere but by your side! Ten years you've been King and not once have you asked me to be your Hand!"
"And why would I do that?" Viserys asked. It was a rhetorical question and Daemon knew it, but he had to respond.
"Because I am your brother. And the Blood of the Dragon runs thick." He hoped that would be able to get through to his brother, but he doubted it. Had this stupid crown torn them apart as much as he thought it had?
"Then why do you cut me so deeply?" Viserys replied. Daemon was losing control of this, and he knew it.
"I have only ever spoken the truth; I see Otto Hightower for what he is."
"An unwavering and loyal Hand?"
"A cunt." Daemon replied curtly. "A second son who stands to inherit nothing he does not take for himself." Ordinarily, Daemon would be the kind of man to praise that sort of ambition, but Hightower was an interloper. A second son of a secondary house who dared to think himself on par with their bloodline.
"Otto Hightower is a more honourable man than you could ever claim to be."
"He does not protect you. I would."
"From who?"
"Yourself." Daemon had been building to this point for a while now. "You're weak, Viserys. That council of leeches knows it; they all prey on you for their own ends."
Viserys laid back on the throne. "I have decided to name a new heir."
Daemon's eyes narrowed at that. "I'm your heir."
"Not anymore. You are to return to Runestone and your Lady Wife without quarrel. And once there, you will further our family line by putting a child in her."
Wait. Was this a command to impregnate his wife? The Bronze Bitch? "You are commanding me to-"
"I am. I have indulged your dalliances with that Lyseni whore for too long, and you will no longer be permitted to insult Lady Royce. If you refuse me, you will be exiled. Permanently."
There was a reason that Viserys had been the last rider the Black Dread had chosen, Daemon remembered. He made to approach his brother, but Harrold Westerling blocked his path, sword partially unsheathed. Daemon figured he could take about two of the knights; maybe three. There was a reason these men were Kingsguard however. Men were not appointed to it because of their name; they were there for their skill.
Daemon scowled, before reluctantly bowing his head. "Your Grace." He said, before storming out of the room.
He would have to get extremely drunk to lay with the Bronze Bitch. Maybe a tavern in Gulltown would oblige him.
Runestone, later that evening.
To see her husband actually show up at Runestone was a surprise. To see him blind drunk was less of a surprise. The still badly drunk Daemon Targaryen had been dragged into Runestone's great hall by her cousin, Gerold.
"Husband. Why are you here?" She demanded.
"I have come… I have come to consum… consummate our marriage, wife."
She knew he was not here of his own free will. "Why? Perhaps you would prefer one of our sheep? I hear you find them prettier." Rhea knew she was no great beauty herself, but she'd had her fair share of marriage proposals before Daemon came along. As the one who was to inherit Runestone, she made a good marriage prospect, she figured, but had largley been married to Daemon in order to shore up support for Viserys at the Great Council of 101.
"My brother… has commanded I… further the Targaryen line." He slurred. Rhea raised her eyebrows slightly. A royal command for Daemon to impregnate her? It was certainly pretty bloody unusual. She had half a mind to kick him back out onto his dragon there and then, but perhaps that would not be for the best. After all, at this stage, it was likely a council of nobles would have to be called to determine who Runestone went to in the event of her death, and they would likely end up choosing from among themselves, as opposed to Gerold or her niece. Such was the way of the world, she supposed. An heir to Runestone was needed to avoid the mess that had put Daemon in the position of power that he had. Heir to the Iron Throne… Gods save them if ever the day came where Daemon was King. There was a reason his brother had never named him Hand, she supposed.
"A royal command to impregnate me? I thought you would've taken that up with your whore." She spat.
"M…Mys…Misery- wait, no that's not it… Mysaria has returned to Lys…"
Ah, the whore had gone. At least he had rid them of that little dishonour, she supposed.
"And you wish to consummate our marriage?" She asked. Once upon a time she had felt something for Daemon Targaryen. He was a very handsome man and a dashing knight who also happened to be a prince. How could any woman not swoon over him? That had of course changed when he had not even deigned to do anything with her on their marriage night.
"I do not wish it… it is a royal command." He drawled. Rhea sighed. There was no affection between them, and they could make no one believe that there was. All the Lords of the Vale knew that Daemon was rarely at Runestone, and that she was never at King's Landing. The fact that they had never really bothered to even try and keep up appearances had shown, and it was to both their detriments.
"Then I'll probably need to get drunk as well." She said simply. Daemon waved the bottle in his hand at her.
"I… have brought much drink with me…"
"We will likely need all of it."
And so it was that Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce got blindingly drunk and slept together for the first and only time. Neither of them could really say that they enjoyed it, but they managed it nonetheless. After the deed was done, Daemon went and slept in a different room, leaving his wife alone.
A few months later, it had become apparent that Rhea was with child. Her hunting trips and horse-breaking rides became less and less. She spent more and more time abed as the months passed. Soon, she was forced to appoint Gerold as her regent to rule in her stead.
One day, as a storm passed over Runestone, it finally happened. Lady Rhea Royce entered labour.
Nine months later
The sound of cracking thunder was nothing compared to the cries of Rhea Royce. She was going to kill that white-haired cunt for cursing her with a pain like this! No injury she'd received while breaking horses hurt as much as this. At least the maester had been prompt, she supposed. Gerold was by her side as well, though her husband was not. She didn't expect him to be; he had run off to the Stepstones for his little temper tantrum war some time ago. His brother may've been an indecisive man but he was still the King. Her husband owed the man his allegiance.
She screamed again. Gods above, it was painful, as if the expletives she was releasing weren't proof enough of that. The Maester finally rushed to her side, gently saying words of encouragement to her as he took a position at the foot of the bed. Another scream. That was it, she was going to hurt that white-haired prick badly when they next saw each other. He could've at least had the decency to be at her side when she gave birth.
"I can see the head, My Lady!" The Maester said. Part of her wanted to yell at the man to pull the baby out of her, but she was cut off by another scream. It was getting too much; Rhea was struggling to keep her eyes open through it all. By now, Gerold's wife had arrived as well. She would've asked the woman for advice here, considering she had given birth not long ago, but her screaming prevented her.
There was another round of pain and resulting screams before it ended with Rhea finally breathing a sigh of relief, and the soft cry of a babe filled the room. Immediately, the Maester wrapped the newborn in a blanket and handed it to Rhea. "It's a boy, My Lady. Hale and healthy." He smiled. Rhea held her son to her chest as she listened to him coo.
"Have you thought of a name, Rhea?" Gerold asked.
"The poor woman's just been through an ordeal, Gerold." His wife said. "She's-"
"It's fine, Julia." Rhea replied, taking a second to catch her breath. She knew the babe would have to take the Targaryen name, as per the laws of the land, and she couldn't help but feel a bit of sorrow for that. Her family deserved better than that, but perhaps some solution could be found in the future. Right now, the babe deserved a childhood. One away from his shit of a father. "And I do have a name." She said. Gerold and Julia leant forward expectantly. "Daevar."
"Daevar Targaryen." The Maester said, making a mental note of the name to record it later. "A good name, My Lady."
"I believe he'll be the first Daevar in the line of either family." Gerold responded. Rhea just nodded at that.
"His father-" Julia started before Rhea interrupted.
"His father will not care for him." She said bluntly. "His father believes he is above everyone else… he will not show kindness to my son. He will not see him as his son." She added. She didn't know Daemon well, admittedly, but she knew the man believed House Targaryen to be above everyone else. There were even rumours that he still kept to the gods of Valyria, as foreign as they were to the people of Westeros.
And especially to the First Men of House Royce.
She held Daevar close to her. "You will not turn out like your father, Daevar…" She whispered to him. "I swear it on my honour."
116 AC, The Eyrie
Everything about him made her angry. His smug face, his confident swagger, the way he walked into a room like he owned it. Even here, in the Vale. Just the sight of him made her angry, but Jeyne Arryn, at two-and-twenty years and Lady of the Eyrie, was not a woman given over to such open displays. She wanted to have the man cut down where he stood, but Daemon Targaryen had come with his dragon, as if he were anticipating that very order.
"You demand Runestone?" Jeyne said, her hands digging into her throne in anger.
"As Lady Rhea's widower, it is my right." Daemon replied. His hands rested comfortably on the hilt of Dark Sister, confident that Jeyne would pass the entire thing to him. If he was trying to threaten them, he was already succeeding just by the air of superiority he gave off.
"Her widower?" Jeyne asked rhetorically. "The laws of the land dictate that it should fall to a member of her family."
"Am I not? Those 'laws of the land' you cite clearly state that the lands of the woman fall to her husband on her death."
"But they do not fall to murderers." Ser Gerold Royce said. Daemon looked at the man, his eyes narrowed. Well, at least he was saying it openly now. His eyes scanned downwards to reveal a small boy, no older than four, hiding behind Gerold's leg. He had the telltale silver hair of Targaryen blood, but there was something different about the lad. It was his eyes. Brown, the same colour as the Bronze Bitch's. Daemon scowled. It was his son, Daevar.
"Murderer, Ser Gerold?" Daemon replied, using his thumb to loosen Dark Sister in its scabbard. "I told you at my niece's wedding that men are made to answer for their slander."
"And I told you that in the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Ser Gerold replied. The men stared each other down for a moment before Jeyne decided she had entertained this farce enough.
"Silence, both of you!" She commanded. In spite of her relative youth and somewhat unstable status as Lady of the Eyrie, she could still speak with the authoritative tone demanded of all high lords. "Prince Daemon, Ser Gerold has already brought his accusation and evidence of it to me, and while it is not conclusive… I find it troubling."
Daemon stared up at her. "My Lady, you cannot be serious. These accusations are-"
"Be silent!" She thundered. "As I said, I find the evidence behind Ser Gerold's accusations troubling enough. Lady Rhea was a friend of mine, and we all mourn her passing, yet you have turned up, days after her death, to claim what you say is yours. You not only offend the honour of your late wife, you offend the honour of the entire Vale." She signalled for her Maester to hand her a piece of paper. "This letter states that Runestone is to pass to her son, Daevar, upon her death. Under my authority as Lady Paramount and Defender of the Vale, Runestone will pass to Daevar of the Houses Targaryen and Royce."
"My Lady-"
"Furthermore, under the same authority, Prince Daemon, you are banished from the Vale of Arryn. Leave and never return."
Daemon did some quick calculations in his head. He could probably cut through the knights that guarded Lady Arryn without much effort, and part of him wanted to draw Dark Sister and bring that pompous woman to heel, but Viserys would never forgive him. Even his brother had his breaking point, and committing such an act here would likely lead to being sent to the Wall.
He bowed stiffly before turning around to leave, making a point of passing by Ser Gerold on the way out.
"Well played, Ser Gerold." He smiled thinly.
"I did not 'play', my Prince." The knight replied. He already had a hand on the hilt of his sword, seemingly ready to draw it if Daemon tried anything. Daemon, for his part, wanted to take the man's head off there and then, but even he had his limits.
"A shame that Runestone will fall to my half-breed of a son." He lowered his gaze to the four-year-old. "You hear me, boy? You are a half-breed. You will never be a true Targaryen… and you will never be my son."
That's where the enmity between my father and his father started. Only days after the death of my grandmother, my grandfather attempted to claim Runestone for himself. Lady Arryn however stood firm, and held true to my grandmother's final wish.
My father was young at the time, but he was still able to understand the word 'half-breed'. It was something that would stay with him his whole life. An insult. A statement that he was not part of my grandfather's family.
It was not something that would be easily forgotten.
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