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You raised an eyebrow at your appearance. You definitely looked different. You took a moment to let the memories fill your head of a life you’d never lived and took another moment to mourn the life you had. You were the daughter of a Redwyne daughter of the Arbor and Royce second son. You had been sent to the North as Lady Sansa’s handmaiden from when you were a child by Lady Catelyn’s request. You were a beautiful young woman you could admit, your skin was replaced with ivory, your hair was a dark brown with dark red highlights that were mostly noticeable in the sunlight. You were intelligent and had spent your years at Winterfell learning everything you could from the maester while also picking up some skill with the bow and knives. You knew enough to protect yourself at least. The thing was that the people in Winterfell, those born of the North grew to like you. Despite the fact you were a Southerner, you adapted to your surroundings, you treated them with respect and they could see the love you held for the land and its customs. They accepted you far more than they accepted Catelyn and her Southern ideas and even more so than Lady Sansa who listened only to her mother’s words. And you had hoped to make a match in the North and remain there, only for Lady Catelyn to send you alongside Arya and Sansa to King’s Landing.
You had been wary from the beginning. Careful to remain forgettable, unnoticed and silent in the presence of the royal family and you were easily forgotten. You were a daughter of two known houses that were loyal to the Baratheons. There was no need to hurt or terrorise you when it could turn these two old houses away. And so you did your best to watch over and protect Sansa after secreting Arya out of the city with a man of the Night’s Watch. Now that you were Nysa Royce, you figured you’d have a bit more courage to tell Margaery and her girl gang that summoning whatever spirit of the past to tell their future was stupid. But let’s be honest, you didn’t like the girl and how she capitalised Sansa’s suffering, so you’d let them do what they wished. What you didn’t appreciate was one of the insufferable cousins pricking you with a needle and using said bloody needle in the potion. You resisted the urge to swear, merely looking down at your book. You watched as they drew the seven pointed star and chanted. You didn’t startle as the lamps all burnt out and relit themselves or when the ghostly apparition of a one-eyed man appeared. Amethyst eye, tall with long white-blonde hair. Well, fuck.
“Aemond the Kinslayer,” one of the nitwits gasped. The man glared and stared at the girls surrounding him. “Is there a reason I’ve been summoned by a pack of bitches?,” he asked with a cruel smirk. Margaery straightened up and proceeded to tell him that she was the Queen to be and he was to obey her as his kin. “But it was not your blood in the cup was it little queen. No, it was no one’s in this circle,” his eye began to glow and you watched with morbid fascination as he stepped out, more solid and monstrous. “Quick, it was her blood. Throw her into the star,” someone yelled and you found yourself being pushed into the centre of the spell. You would have fallen onto your face if strong, armoured arms hadn’t caught you. You found yourself staring into a single eye, an icy grin split the Targaryen’s face. “You’ll do,” he crooned before turning you around and slicing your throat open with his sword. And everything went dark.
You blinked as you sat up in an unknown room with a child at your side. “Good you’re awake. I should inform you that you are Lady Ashara Velaryon, daughter of Aria Martell and Corbin Velaryon, Lord Corlys’ elder son who died in the StepStones. Your mother died in childbirth and in truth, you would have died tonight when Jacaerys Velaryon pushed you down the steps for refusing to take his arm. Your death would not be noticed until everyone had left, it being assumed that you were hiding in grief. When they found your body they could only assumed you tripped,” Aemond straightened up. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have my dragon to claim,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “My lady. Look after yourself. It will be a while till we meet once more.”
You watched from the shadow of one of the Velaryon guard’s as Viserys completely dismissed his grandson’s transgressions and instead reprimanded Aemond and Aegon for speaking ‘lies’. You were led back to your chambers after spending a bit of time with your grandparents. You could tell you were well loved by them as Corlys led you back to your room and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
You took the next day to study your appearance. You were a year younger than Aemond at nine. The same age as Jace apparently. Your hair was not as thick as your grandfather’s, you favoured your mother’s thick curls, they fell to your mid-back, black as ink, they faded to the silver-white of the Velaryon’s from below your neck. And your eyes were a violet that darkened to a stormy blue when you were angry.
You loved life on Driftmark. You had yet to claim a dragon but you were a true Velaryon, you loved the ocean. You swam, surfed, sailed. The water called to you the same way it called to your grandfather, as it had to your father. As your only link to the Targaryen bloodline was through Rhaenys you doubted you were a rider and you were fine with that. Meleys was a terrifying but awe-inspiring beast and you’d ridden her several times with your grandmother. But you were unsure as to whether you’d want your own dragon. You heard nothing from Aemond during your years in Driftmark. You grew up an intelligent and capable young woman. You would join your grandfather on his sojourns to the Free Cities and you kept your grandmother company.
When you were twelve, a dragon appeared on the shores of Driftmark. But it wasn’t an ordinary dragon. It rivalled the size of Vhagar as its head rose above the water, its body covered in spines, its teeth seemed to lay flat, springing into sharp points as to opened its maw and lowered itself to meet you. You could hear your grandmother behind you, attempting to make Meleys fight the beast but Meleys refrained. The creature had no wings as it rose up out of the water, you weren’t sure if it could fly before lowering its head once more. You swallowed and pressed a hand on the bone between its eyes. A light rumble echoed through the land, you could feel it in your bones. And despite your grandparents warnings, you stepped onto the beast and tucked yourself behind one of its spines.
You didn’t make a sound as it sped across the waters. So very fast, your surroundings were a blur. And you blinked as you found yourself leaving the water, the dragon rising into the air, similar to that of a Chinese dragon in cartoons. Its entire body moving deceptively slowly for how treacherously fast it was flying. It dived back into the water and you were terrified until something nudged at your mind and you found an odd fleshy sac along the back of the spines of its neck. You made your way into the sack and hoped you wouldn’t die. Instead you found yourself able to breath in the see-through fleshy pouch as it dived deep enough you could see the luminous monsters of the depths. And yet you felt no pressure. As the creature began to rise, you pulled yourself out of the pouch and held on the spines as it rose right on the beach where you’d left. Your grandparents were still there and a mix of awed and horrified as you slid down your dragon’s nose and into your grandfather’s arms. “Grandfather, grandmother, meet Raziel, the Sea Snake,” you beamed. Your grandfather took a moment and threw back his head in a laugh, only you would manage to find a dragon to fit all three of your family bloodlines. Raziel was kept a secret for now, he wasn’t one to remain close all the time. Though he would show whenever you felt a little too homesick or scared of the future, and you’d both dive into the waters. You had an idea that the pouch was for eggs and developing sea serpents. You learned to hold your breath longer each time you dived.
Your grandfather would be joined by Raziel when his forces were on the verge of being overwhelmed. Raziel was a fairly peaceful beast when he wasn’t hunting down whales for a snack. He would pull up old ships, pieces of coral reefs, shiny bioluminescent fish if he thought it would please you. He was much like a cat in that sense to your grandfather’s amusement and grandmother’s resignation. He would follow Meleys from the water or shadow your grandfather’s ships, giving them a bit of speed during the night when there were fewer to notice him. The interference of Raziel ensured that your grandfather was not hurt and sent to the verge of death. Yet his presence drew stories and Lord Vaemond took the beast as a sign that you were to be heir to Driftmark instead of Lucerys Velaryon.
“Perhaps it is for the best,” Corlys hummed. When Corbin died, Laenor had become heir, and therefore Lucerys was next in line. But with Laenor dead and Lucerys being of uncertain parentage, things were not as starighfoward. Your grandfather took your hands, “You would make an exceptional Lady of the Tides. I should not have taken your throne from you in the first place,” Corlys hummed pressing a kiss to your forehead. Both Vaemond and Rhaenys approved of his decision. And you knew you would thrive as Lady of Driftmark. You knew the ships, the men who commanded them, you’d trained with them, sailed with them. And you’d called a beast of the water to their aid. Those under House Velaryon would have no other on the Driftmark Throne. Unfortunately, Lord Corlys’ change of mind angered Rhaenyra who chose to take her family to court and petition the King against the loss of title to her son. Which meant after eight years, you were about to face the One-eyed Prince once more. Great.
“You look beautiful my girl,” Rhaenys sighed as you stepped out in a teal Dornish-styled gown with silver embroidery. “Are you sure this is alright?,” you asked. “Of course. You are as much Martell as Velaryon and it’s for the best that they remember that,” Corlys stated as he and Vaemond entered the room. “You look stunning niece,” Daeron hummed squeezing your hand in comfort. Daeron was good fifteen years older than you while Daemion was only five years older and one of your closest friends and companions. He was watching Driftmark with his good-sister and mother while the rest of the family joined you in King’s Landing. “Keep your head up Ash. You are deserving of the Driftwood throne and do not let them make you doubt it.
The thing about blood was that it flowed true. Bloodlines held certain traits that allowed its members to be identified and you were the epitome of Velaryon and Martell. Corbin Velaryon had been a known seaman and his wife a beauty that minstrels had sung about. Their daughter had never left Driftmark after the death of her parents and therefore was never seen in her childhood. But as she walked between Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, there was no doubt she was both Martell and Velaryon. The Martell was obvious in the colour of her skin and her facial features, and the softer texture of her hair. But the silver-white amongst the ebony strands, the dark amethyst eyes and the height of the stunning young woman was all Velaryon and Rhaenyra faltered upon seeing the girl she’d only heard about from Laenor. Her last husband had loved his niece, the last thing he’d had to remember his beloved brother and good-sister by. She remembered him talking about how the girl was identical to her mother and she’d been sure that the resemblance to a Velaryon would be negligible and the woman had been Dornish. But here the girl stood, more Velaryon than her three sons and making the fact very obvious.
Otto Hightower took his seat on the throne and wondered how the Princess would weave herself out of this particular knot. The Velaryon girl resembled her roots, both of them, there was even Princess Rhaenys in the shape of her eyes and cheekbones. She was the eldest granddaughter of Corlys Velaryon and her grandsire himself had chosen to make her his heir. Lord Corlys said as much before stepping back to his wife and granddaughter’s side. Before Otto could call Rhaenyra forward the doors opened and Viserys stepped through.
You resisted the urge to somehow trip the feeble King. If he died perhaps they’d be too busy fighting over the iron throne to bother with yours. You ignored two sets of purple stares that had been boring into the sides of your head since you entered. You didn’t need to look to know that Aemond was one of them and you had a feeling the other was Daemon as Jacaerys and Lucerys had been unable to look you in the eye since you entered. Viserys sat upon the throne and studied you. “I don’t understand why the succession is under question. It is Lord Corlys’ seat and it is his choice to who to give it to,” Viserys stated looking towards your grandfather. “Thank you your grace. My heir will be Ashara Velaryon, the firstborn of my firstborn Corbin Velaryon and Aria Martell,” he stated calmly. “Very well. Ashara Velaryon will be the Lady of Driftmark after Lord Corlys Velaryon,” Viserys stated to the court. “But father,” Rhaenyra stepped forwards, “After Lord Corbin died, Laenor was to be Lord of Driftmark and after his passing the heirship should go to my son. This is not only an insult to my son but to the memory of Laenor,” she pressed.
“It should have gone to Ashara, but she was young and a newly orphaned child,” Rhaenys stated.
“My granddaughter was raised at Driftmark,” Corlys began silencing his wayward once daughter-in-law. “She was raised in the waters that surround it. She knows how to sail, to navigate the treacherous waters of the seas we traverse. She can command a fleet and has the respect of my men. She understands the trade, our territories, she assisted in the removal of pirates from one of our routes. Tell me, does your son have the same capability?,” Corlys asked. Rhaenyra remained silent, “You could teach him,” she began. “I have asked to foster Lucerys for many years. There are certain things thought when a child is young and malleable not a man grown. A man grown who can barely handle standing on a boat without becoming greensick,” Corlys stated factually. “I do not understand your issues with my choice Princess. It is due to the disrespect to Laenor? Or is it because Ashara is a woman?,” Corlys asked drawing parallels to the Princess’ own situation.
You resisted the urge to applaud your grandfather. Rhaenyra was furious but forced to back down. “I have a question. There have been tales that Lady Ashara has claimed a dragon, one that is the epitome of her two houses. If there is truth to these tales then perhaps she is the true Lady of Driftmark,” Daemon stated thoughtfully. “Are you calling my granddaughter a liar?,” Corlys asked the Rogue Prince. “Yes actually.” The fucking nerve of the bastard. “There is a garden that overlooks Blackwater Bay is there not?,” Rhaenys hummed as she placed a hand on Corlys’ arm. You resisted the urge to facepalm.
You overlooked the jagged rocks and inky waves that made up Blackwater Bay. You knew Raziel had been antsy as he sensed your distress in this new area and had been circling the waters below the Keep. “Come up for a second love, slowly,” you murmured through the bond. There was nothing for a good long moment and Daemon was about to open his mouth once more when the screams began. You sighed, and closed your eyes. Raziel was a rather ferocious beast, all the more so for how unknown he was. You opened your eyes when you felt his cold breath fill your face. You pressed a hand to the space between its eyes as it looked around with curiosity, looking for the source of your ire. “Back to the depths love,” you pressed a kiss to the bony space and it reared back before sinking so quickly it was a mere blur of blue. “That was Raziel, my lovely sea serpent,” you hummed politely, enjoying the look of blatant shock on the face of the Greens and Blacks.
“I must admit. While I expected you to gain the Driftmark Throne, I did not expect a dragon,” Aemond hummed, seated in a chair in your chambers. You narrowed your eyes at the handsome man,” Secret tunnels?,” you asked. He nodded to the wall with a painting of several wild stallions. Fantastic, it looked like you were sleeping with a knife. “Rhaenyra isn’t pleased,” he continued. You scoffed as you walked behind the changing screen, “Of course she isn’t. I have a feeling she’ll try to petition for me to marry one of her sons in order to keep Driftmark under her thumb,” you muttered as you walked out in a dark blue gown. You swallowed at the pure anger in Aemond’s eye as he stood in front of you. “I refuse to let you be tainted by one of those bastards,” he snarled. You raised an eyebrow,” It’s not like grandfather would let it happen anyway. I refuse to marry a bastard and he would never make me,” you hummed, mostly noting he was angry and not paying particular attention to his words.
“There you are dear. With Prince Aemond,”Rhaenys blinked. “I found Lady Ashara and decided to guide her to the solar Princess Rhaenys, I’ll leave her to you,” he gave a respectful bow and walked on. “Did he do anything to you?,” Rhaenys asked as you took her arm. “No, he was fairly polite,” you shrugged. You were seated beside Aemond at the end of the table with Corlys next to you and Rhaenys opposite you. You had a feeling this was not going to go well. You were silent for most of the meal, answering questions when you were asked. And like you predicted, Rhaenyra decided to bring up a betrothal between you and one of her sons. “How would you feel about that Lady Ashara?,” Viserys asked. “No thank you your grace. My cousins are already tied to Driftmark by blood, there wouldn’t be any worth to that alliance,” you stated calmly. Aemond relished the hidden insult in your words and the way Jacaerys clenched his jaw as Lucerys glared at his plate. “Then how about Aemond,” Viserys suggested thoughtfully, “it will strengthen Driftmark’s relationship with the Throne.” You blinked at looked at your grandparents. “If Prince Aemond finds it acceptable,” Rhaenys stated finally. “It would be an honour,” Aemond hummed amused by the sudden avoidance of his eye, as you kept your eyes on your drink. You were going to need a lot more alcohol.
“I hate you so much right now,” you told Aemond as you both stood before the Valyrian priest with bloody hands bound together. He merely chuckled before pulling you into a deep kiss. “Stop pouting,” Aemond murmured. “You stole my first kiss,” you grumbled as you leaned into his arm without much prodding. He chuckled,” I’m going to steal a lot more tonight,” he purred. You felt your ears burn. “I don’t want a bedding ceremony,” you whispered. He nodded, “I wouldn’t be able to let them touch you anyhow. Say goodnight to your grandparents,” he murmured. You nodded. “If he hurts you, stab the fucker,” Rhaenys whispered as she kissed your temple. You chuckled and found your husband offering his hand for a dance. And after the one song, he pulled you through the crowds and back to his chambers.
“Fucking perfect. I’ve wanted this since that first time I saw you. Red-headed and meek. I could see your true form. So beautiful and young and misplaced,” he crooned as his fingers moved through your core, pleased with how responsive you were to his touch. He removed his eyepatch and pressed his lips against yours, his hair surrounding you like a curtain. “And I knew I needed you. I couldn’t have anyone else,” he panted as your own hand moved to his cock, stroking steadily. “And I was selfish and dragged you into my past so I could have you without the stains of kinslayer on my name,” he grunted as he entered your body, you were tight as a vice and felt like fucking heaven. He snarled as you bit his shoulder to muffle your whine of pain as he broke your maidenhead. Before hitting that spot that had you throwing your head back and wrapping your legs around him. “You’re mine. My dragon of the sea. My wife,” he muttered as he came, your tightness milking him of his seed. You panted in exhaustion, feeling your body ache in the aftermath of an incredible orgasm. You winced at the slight sting as he pulled out. He carefully lifted you out of bed and into the steeping hot bath he’d had prepared. He called the servants to change the sheets and bring some snacks, before joining you. “They’ve taken the sheet?,” you asked, leaning into his muscular chest. “Was I your first?,” he asked untangling your hair with surprisingly gentle hands. You raised an eyebrow. “I meant in your other life,” he clarified. “I was a fifteen year old virgin when you took me and a three and twenty year old virgin before that,” you mumbled. His arm tightened around your waist. “Will you tell about your life before this one?,” he asked. You closed your eyes, “Another time.”
“Ready to return?,” Rhaenys asked. “Yes please,” you sighed as you stood at the docks. “Will you be joining us by ship or on dragon back Prince Aemond?,” Corlys asked his granddaughter’s new husband. “Dragon back, just as I believe Ash is,” he turned to you. “Yup,” you grinned, “but only a little way from the docks. The water here isn’t deep enough. Aemond watched from the air as his little wife scampered to the front of the ship and promptly dived off the end. He watched as the serpent brought her up to the surface and blinked at the pure speed at which they both streaked through the water. “Go Vhagar,” he commanded, trying to keep pace. It was futile and he eventually lost you and Raziel. Upon reaching Driftmark, you were dry, dressed and standing at the docks to welcome them. “Vhagar can nest in the cliffs if she wishes. Seasmoke wanders but never flies too close to the keep,” you hummed, taking his arm. “Here are our quarters. I still have a few things to move from my private chambers, but it's mostly ready. Take a bath while I finish the move. The servants will unpack the rest of your things tomorrow.
And for a few moons there was peace.
And then there wasn’t.
“The king is dead,” Aemond hummed. “What the hell am I supposed to do?,” you asked. Aemond shrugged, “Come with me to King’s Landing. I refuse to go to Baratheon alone,” he muttered darkly. “Do I have to?,” you asked. “Yes. Your presence will also soothe Vhagar. I don’t need Lucerys’ death on my hands,” he stated. “Fine.”
Lucerys didn’t die but Jace did appear at Driftmark asking for your pledge. He was trying very hard not to glare at Aemond who had his arms wrapped around you and watching with that infuriating smirk that was irritatingly sexy. “Very well,” Lord Corlys agreed to pledge for Rhaenyra. Aemond didn’t say anything. He would remain silent in this war, he already had what he wanted. A bride and equal to remain at his side. He had a homestead, Driftmark was far from King’s Landing and large enough for Vhagar to live on peaceably. He would one day have children who would never have to wonder if their parents loved them. Who would never have to doubt their place in the world or be pawns to a game they had never wished to be part off.
He was free.