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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:489Hits:168,968
The Bronze Dragon
kornerbrandon, orphan_account
Chapter 5
Chapter Text
The loss of Aemond's eye ensured that Rhaenyra and her sons would be facing a powerful, implacable enemy from that point on. Perhaps though, there was still a chance of avoiding the war that was coming if Viserys had acted as a king should, and punished Lucerys properly.
I must admit, I have always felt far more sympathy for my grandmother in the aftermath of this incident. Rhaenyra escaped the consequences of what had happened because her father refused to consider that any child of hers could be in the wrong. His blatant favouritism towards her made itself apparent that night; a recurring problem that would only doom our family to war.
By the time Daevar had managed to barge into the Hall of Nine, he saw that practically everyone was already there. Aemond was getting his eye sewn up by the Maester, and straight away he knew that the boy would be crippled his entire life. He didn't even hear the Maester describe the condition to Alicent, and only looked up when Rhaenyra entered the room, immediately rushing to her sons.
Daevar also noticed his father standing in the doorway, watching the entire thing unfold. Of course he would be here, though that did beg the question of why he had shown up with Rhaenyra of all people. There was likely something there, he thought, but decided not to bring it up now. He rested his hand on Lamentation's hilt as the others began shouting and squabbling over each other, narrowing his eyes at Rhaenyra. Do not expect me to be silent, cousin.
"Silence!" Viserys shouted, before walking up to his second son. "Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened."
"What needs to be heard?" Alicent asked rhetorically, tears in her eyes. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."
"A regrettable accident." Rhaenyra said.
Daevar scoffed. "'Accident'? You mean to say that Aemond, your own brother, got his eye slashed out by accident? Strange accident, if you ask me." He said. Now Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at him, as did his father.
"The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son." Alicent said. Daevar felt his grip tighten around Lamentation, until he recalled the words Ser Gerold said to him once: 'Never draw steel unless you intend to use it.' With those words in mind, he carefully, yet reluctantly, let go his his blade.
"It was my sons who were attacked!" Rhaenyra loudly proclaimed. Daevar rolled his eyes. "Vile insults were levied against them."
"What insults?" Viserys asked. He just wanted to smooth this whole affair over and bid them make up.
"The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question." Rhaenyra answered.
Gods, I wonder why that could be? Daevar thought.
"My sons are in line for the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons." Rhaenyra continued, casting her gaze over to Aemond. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we may learn the truth of these slanders."
If looks could kill, the one that Daevar gave Rhaenyra then would have seen her dead, buried, and Aegon being named heir. "Your torturer would find himself without hands, cousin." He said, stepping forward with his hand firmly grasping the hilt Lamentation.
"You would have my child tortured over an insult?" Alicent asked. She didn't know if Rhaenyra was being serious right now, but the mere fact that she was even suggesting it meant that she considered this grave. "My son has lost an eye!" She repeated, to no reaction from Rhaenyra. You stand there in all your false righteousness, my old friend. And my idiot husband refuses to do anything for his own son!
"You tell me boy… where did you hear this lie?" Viserys asked, leaning towards Aemond. Why couldn't these boys just bloody well get along! It wasn't that hard to be nice to other people, surely?!
"It was training yard bluster, nothing more." Alicent replied. Again, Daevar rolled his eyes. It was more than that, and they knew it.
"Aemond… I asked you a question." Viserys said, as sternly as he could muster. Daevar tried another way of defusing the situation.
"Where is Ser Laenor? He's their father. Mayhaps he has something to say on the matter." He said, trying to avert the confrontation that was no doubt about to happen. He looked pointedly at Rhaenyra, expecting an answer.
"I do not know, Lord Daevar. I . . . could not find sleep; I went out for a walk." Rhaenyra said. Yes, I can tell from the way my father walked in with you, cousin.
"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture." Alicent replied. Everyone shifted to looking at her then; the accusation levied was not a light one, considering the laws they lived by. Viserys, uncomfortable with his wife's words, decided to shift everyone back to the matter at hand.
"Aemond, look at me." He said. "Your king demands an answer."
The room was deadly silent, almost to the point where one could hear a pin drop. It certainly would've startled everyone in that room if one had. Aemond anxiously glanced over at his mother, but just as quickly looked back at Viserys. "It was Aegon."
The boy in question looked stunned. "Me?"
"Tell me boy, where do you hear these calumnies?" Viserys said in a low, threatening voice that made Alicent's ball her hands into fists, he nails digging into her palms. You blind, doddering old fool… IT'S YOUR SON WHO HAS LOST AN EYE!
"AEGON!" Viserys roared, grabbing his son by the arm and pulling him forward. "TELL ME THE TRUTH OF IT!"
To his credit, Aegon didn't flinch. We know, father." He replied, keeping his cool as much as he could. "Everyone knows… just… look at them." He added. It was actually a rather cunning play; he'd essentially disarmed his father's accusations with a few words. Father… he doesn't give a shit about me. Or Aemond. He's just proven it.
"This interminable infighting must cease!" Viserys shouted. "All of you! We are a family!" He continued, his voice cracking in despair. Was this what the House of the Dragon was doomed to every time there was more than a single child in the family? "Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another! Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!" He ordered. That will get them back in line, he thought as he made his way out of the Hall.
Alicent wasn't satisfied. You senile old man… why won't you defend your own fucking son!?
She wanted to lash out. To tell Viserys exactly what she thought of him; that he was an old fool who owed his success to the men around him, as well as his grandfather. She wanted to tell him that the only reason the realm was stable was because of her father's years as Hand, that he was a weak and feckless father who had never shown an ounce of affection to any of his sons. Instead, she kept her temper.
"That is insufficient." She said through the angry tears that were forming in her eyes. "Aemond has been damaged permanently, My King. 'Goodwill' will not make him whole."
"I know, Alicent." Viserys said. "But I cannot restore his eye."
"Because it was taken from him!" She snapped.
"Then what would you have me do?" He asked. Damn woman… why can't she just let this go?!
"There is a debt to be paid…" Alicent fixed her glare at Rhaenyra's sons. "I shall have one of their eyes in return."
Instantly, Daevar readied himself for a fight. Viserys simply gave Alicent a warning, and turned around to face the rest of them. "Let it be known: anyone who dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons… shall have their tongues removed."
And there it was. The typical, head-in-the-sand approach that was Viserys' solution to every problem. He's just placed his own daughter above the law. Daevar thought. The truth had, effectively, just become punishable by order of the King.
Alicent didn't even hear Rhaenyra. It was like the world stopped for her. First her son had been maimed, permanently. His left eye was now an ugly flap of skin that had been sewn shut by High Tide's Maester. Then all Rhaenyra had done was say a few words, and her father had stepped in to save her once again. She looked at Viserys, then at Rhaenyra. She thought back to happier times that seemed like a lifetime ago. You fucking… you little white haired bitch!
She snatched Viserys' dagger from the sheathe on his belt and lunged at Rhaenyra, though perhaps without using all of her strength, as Rhaenyra caught it with ease. "You have gone too far!" Rhaenyra said.
"I have?! What have I done but what is expected of me?!" Alicent snapped, as her hand shook with rage. "Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law… where is duty?! Where is sacrifice?! It is trampled under your pretty foot again! Now you take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled!" Alicent said through her tears.
"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Rhaenyra snarled. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are."
And we see you as you are, cousin, Daevar thought. You hide behind your father. Well, what will you do when he's gone?
Rhaenyra's defensive grip on Alicent's arm gave way, and the knife slashed her arm. It was a flesh wound, nothing severe, but it put everyone on edge. Daemon had his hand on the hilt of Dark Sister, while Daevar loosened Lamentation in her scabbard, eyeing his father off. Unexpectedly, it was Aemond who defused the situation.
"Do not mourn me, mother." She said, stepping forward, still half-high on Milk of the Poppy. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye… but I gained a dragon." He said simply, before going to hug his mother.
Daevar exhaled before putting Lamentation back in her scabbard and approaching Aemond, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Aemond looked up at him with a weak smile. Daevar returned to the look, though trying his best to not pay too much attention to the still red gash that went from his forehead, all the way to his cheek.
"This proceeding is at an end." Viserys declared before leaving. As the crowd began to disperse, either retiring to their chambers or going about their business.
"Your grace, if I could only have a moment to discuss a few things–" Daevar said as he followed his uncle.
"Discuss what, Daevar? How my daughter and my wife seem determined to rip and tear at each other's throats?" He asked, shaking his head. Why in the Seven hells can't they make peace? He thought to himself. It hasn't been many years since the two of them were close friends, so what the bloody hell had happened?
"Not that, Your Grace. Rather the matter of succession." Daevar said. He was trying to be as careful as he could here.
"Succession? Rhaenyra is my heir. I had decreed so years ago. Before you were even born." Viserys answered.
"I understand that, Your Grace. I'm talking about the succession after her." Daevar elaborated. "I'm talking about Prince Jacaerys."
Viserys's expression became deadly serious at that, as he turned to face his only nephew. "I suggest you choose your next words carefully, my lad."
Daevar gulped. "It's not just him, but Lucerys and Joffrey as well. Even with them in line to the Iron Throne, there is going to be a challenge to Jace as soon as he ascends it. But I believe that it can be prevented. Put the issue to rest, here and now."
Viserys arched an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"
Daevar took a breath and delivered his answer. "Legitimise them. Talk to Rhaenyra about them and promise that they'll be legitimised. It's easily within your power as king."
Viserys laughed humourlessly. "I can't issue decrees of legitimisation for children that are already legitimate, Daevar. You know this."
Daevar sighed. "Look at me, uncle. And look at them. What is the difference between us?" He asked. He may have inherited the brown eyes from his mother, but everything else, from the aquiline nose, to the silver hair was Targaryen; nothing like the dark hair and pug noses of Rhaenyra's sons.
Viserys, aware of the implications Daevar made, hardened his gaze. "If you have any value in your tongue, I suggest you hold it firmly, Daevar…" Viserys warned.
"Uncle… Everyone knows. I know you do as well. Simply pretending the issue doesn't exist won't–" He was cut off by Viserys slamming the butt of his cane against the ground.
"There IS no issue, Daevar!"
"Your Grace, the law states-"
"The monarch's word IS THE LAW!" Viserys roared,his voice echoing throughout the room. Daevar was stunned. In all his visits to King's Landing, he had never seen his uncle so mad before. After taking a deep breath to settle his temper, Viserys spoke again in a more authoritative, yet taciturn tone. "Your intentions may be pure, Daevar, but I will hear no more of them. I suggest you leave me, now."
Daevar turned on his heels and left without another word. His uncle knew about Rhaenyra's sons. He had to, there was no way he was as blind to what was going on as he pretended that he was. Yet, it seemed that his desire to avoid conflict played more of a role than Daevar realised. It seemed that the man failed to realise that the whole peace was going to crash down the moment he passed.
Daevar stormed into the training yard. He needed to blow off some steam after that confrontation with his uncle. He removed his sword belt, standing Lamentation up against the wall, and drawing a training sword from the rack. No sense in using his good sword for something like this.
He spent a good while swinging his sword in familiar motions, keeping his form clean and his feet firm. He had his back to the door, so he had no idea that his father, hearing the sound of metal clanging, decided to investigate. He stood leaning against the doorway, observing his son's form. He had to admit, he was surprised that the lad he saw before him was once a scared little boy he saw hiding behind Ser Gerold's leg. And even more impressed to see how he handled a sword.
"Stop that." He said, earning Daevar's attention as he stepped into the room. "You're only wasting your time." Daevar gave him a hardened look, still holding the training sword firmly in his hand, as Daemon approached a weapon rack and drew another blade from it. "When you spar alone, the only thing you remember are your mistakes."
Daevar frowned. "Ten years since we last saw each other, and that's all you have to say?"
"What else is there to say?" Daemon asked, assuming a defensive stance, inviting him to make his move.
"You could ask how Ser Gerold has been treating me. How I've been. You could've even written!" Daevar swung his sword forward as he said that last sentence, only for Daemon to deflect his blow and side step.
"I had my reasons…"
Daevar felt his temper rise at that comment. "That's all…?" He said, as his grip began to tremble. He swung again. "You abandoned me!" Another strike. "Left me without my mother!" Another.
Daemon had not anticipated his son would be this quick with his strikes; the boy had been but four when he had last seen him, and he had expected to find a weakling who hid behind Lady Julia's skirts. Even he was impressed by this. "You're not bad with a sword." He said, trying to deflect the conversation without much success.
"Well, after you abandoned me, I was trained by the Knights of the Vale." He swung again, but this time, Daemon was ready, and easily batted it away. "Every Knight of the Vale has seen battle against the Hill Tribes."
"Hill Tribes?" Daemon laughed haughtily. "Primitives."
"Have you seen a Tribesman, father? Taller than most men you've seen, and wielding an axe in each hand? The only way to stop them coming is killing them instantly, or they crush your skull. If you're lucky." Daevar replied, defending his homeland's honour.
"I've fought a war in the Stepstones. Dealt with the worst scum in Flea Bottom. A hairy tribesman is nothing to me." He deflected another one of Daevar's cuts before kicking him in the stomach and sending him to the ground. "And neither are you, it seems."
Daevar coughed before standing up. "Don't expect me to do you any favours when I rule over Runestone under my family name."
"Your family name? You're a Targaryen, boy." Daemon narrowed his eyes.
"After I reach my majority, I'm taking the Royce name." Daevar replied, leaning on the sword as he recovered. "House Royce has ruled Runestone for thousands of years; I won't be the one to break that."
"You would forsake your own family name?!" Daemon said, with barely hidden rage. "You wear the trappings of a Royce, you might fight like one, but your name is that of a Targaryen." He paused for a minute before bitterly saying, "And you are still my son…"
"Did you come to that realisation after you disowned me? Or was it after you murdered my mother?" Daevar snarled. Daemon punched him hard in the face, causing the boy to stagger back slightly before giving his father a defiant look. "Too bad you didn't have a rock this time, isn't it?" He challenged.
Daemon lunged forward again, delivering another hard punch in the boy's face and kneeing him in the gut. Daevar fell to the ground again, except this time, Daemon continued to hit him. Soon enough, Daevar felt the taste of copper in his mouth as his face began to swell with bruises, but Daemon would not relent. "You weak, insubordinate cur!" He shouted. "You will show me the respect you owe me or–"
"What is the meaning of this?!" A feminine voice shouted. Daemon turned to see it was Jeyne Arryn. She was older now, with lines on her face and a few grey hairs, no doubt from the stresses of ruling the Vale. She hurried into the room to help Daevar to his feet before turning to one of her guards and giving him an order. The guard bowed his head before rushing off; returning minutes later with Viserys.
The entire time, her group of guards kept a close eye on Daemon with their hand firmly gripping the hilt of their swords.
"Daemon, what is this?" Viserys asked when he saw the bruised and bloodied boy, all animosity over earlier forgotten.
Daemon scoffed, wiping his bloodied knuckles on his pants leg. "Merely disciplining my petulant and ungrateful son, Your Grace."
"Your Grace, this is but the latest in a long line of insults your brother has inflicted on the Vale." Jeyne said. "First he took a lover while married to one of our most powerful nobles. Then he refused to attend her funeral before attempting to claim her lands as his own. Then he remarried within days of her death." She was building to her point, even Viserys could sense it. "And now, he has assaulted one of my bannermen; his own son. I cannot countenance this any longer."
"I agree, Lady Arryn." Viserys replied, grimly. "You disappoint me, Daemon." He turned to Harrold Westerling; the old Lord Commander, having accompanied him. "Ser Harrold, help Daevar to the Hall of Nine, and ensure that everyone else is woken up. There is an announcement to be made."
It took a while before everyone was gathered in the Hall, bleary-eyed and still sleepy. The confrontation in there earlier had left everyone with not much of a desire than simply to rest and wait for the morning, but Viserys had insisted on the whole thing. When Ser Harrold nodded, he cleared his throat before he began.
"Some time ago, Lady Jeyne Arryn and I had… certain discussions. Now I feel it is time to announce before you all; to announce the union between my daughter, Princess Helaena, and my nephew, Lord Daevar of Runestone, to tie the Vale to the crown."
The first words, predictably enough, were from Daemon. "You expect me to take that… idiot for a daughter?!"
"Don't call her that!" Daevar shouted.
Jeyne couldn't help herself but smile at the situation. Not only had she humiliated Daemon in public by orchestrating a marriage, but saw that Daevar was willing to stand up for his new bride-to-be. He'll make a fine husband for her, yet. She thought.
Viserys silenced Daevar with a look, before glaring back at his brother. "When Helaena has had her blood, she and Daevar will be wed. And I will have no objections on the matter. Not from you, or anyone."
That night had set multiple things in motion. I still see this moment as where the Dance of the Dragons began; saw Aemond become a permanent enemy of Rhaenyra, and my mother and father were finally betrothed for all the world to see.
I never met my grandfather even as a babe, and I thank the Seven for that, given the stories that I have heard about him over the years. He expected respect from my father for no real reason, but as my uncle Daeron is fond of saying, one must earn respect in order to command it.
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