A/N: This story combines portions of the Blackfyre Rebellion, Targaryen history, and other assorted time periods. This is meant to be nebulous and no certain time frame. Characters may be similar to some in Targaryen lore but not the same.

Part 1: Joy

Queen Rhaella was in the best of moods that day. Her smile was so radiant that some had wondered if she had ever been truly happy before. She was dressed in a pale pink dress with her crown resting upon those silvery locks of hers, her husband nowhere to be found. It was for the wedding of her eldest son, Prince Aenys, to his youngest sister, Daenyra.

It was said that it would be the last day that Queen Rhaella would ever smile like that. For before the decade was out, she would lose three of her children. The Sept of Baelor was set up in splendor, with the lords of Westeros huddling into small seats, cramped together. Riverlander beside Northmen, Valemen beside Dornish. It was truly a display of unity that hadn't been seen in years. Not since her own wedding.

Daenyra was one of the most beautiful women in the realm. She was young, just three and ten, but a woman grown she was. Nearly as tall as her sister, some men joked that she had Andal blood in her somewhere. Rhaella wasn't about to disagree. Her hair was paler than the rest of theirs and braided in its finest way it could ever be done. Her handmaidens had truly outdone themselves today.

Rhaella gazed with pride upon her children, who were standing in a row behind the groom. Aenys was slender, but handsome. He had deep purple eyes and a small nose. He was wearing the colors of his house, red and black, with the Targaryen cloak resting in his hands. He had a dutiful expression on his face, always the gentleman. It was no secret that Rhaella loved her eldest best out of all her children, and she insisted upon sparing no expense for his wedding.

To Aenys' right was the second born – Ser Baelon. When they were young, they had feuded so badly that Rhaella had feared Baelon might revolt if Aenys was given the crown over him. So, she had done her best to nudge him towards a different path – which is why the white cloak adorned his chest. He was muscular, with a fine jaw and a broad look about him. If Baelon was not a member of the Kingsguard, she was sure that any lady would've been all over him. Rhaella also knew that Aenys' life was in good hands as long as Baelon stayed near.

After that was Princess Rhaena, the only other woman in the family. Older than Daenyra, but a thousand times more headstrong. She had it in her head that one day, she would be a queen in her own right. No one knew why, as she had refused to marry Aenys, the best chance to have the throne. But she too was beautiful, in a more austere way.

The two princes were next – Viserys and Aeryn. Closer than any, and most of the time forming a trio with Daenyra, they were the best to get along out of her children. Viserys was growing up to be a warrior, much like Baelon, and some wondered if he too would don a white cloak before long. Aeryn was young, a twin to Daenyra, and as headstrong as his sister Rhaena.

Her husband, King Aegon IV, stood with the High Septon to administer the ceremony. They say that all smiles of Rhaella died when she saw the look on Aegon's face. Disdain. It was no secret that he disliked Aenys, not seeing him as tough enough. He had always preferred Baelon over him – and he had even preferred his bastards.

It had taken hours of screaming and feuding between the King and Queen to decide that Daemon Waters, Aerys Storm, and Aegon Hill would not be allowed at the wedding. Rhaella wouldn't have any of it. Her husband had sired numerous bastards, but these were the ones that had made themselves her son's enemies. They called them 'the Great Bastards'. Born by powerful ladies of the realm, Daemon was the son of Lady Velaryon, Aerys of Lady Baratheon, and Aegon of Lady Lannister.

But, the ceremony proceeded. Aegon IV gave his daughter away to Aenys, trying to keep a sneer from rising to his lips. A waste of a prince, Aegon thought, and a doom for the Realm. But he took off the cloak from Daenyra, nonetheless. Aenys had love in his eyes, the kind of pure, passionate love that any woman could hope for. Rhaella's smile returned to her face and she watched as they sealed their love with a kiss.

Rhaella had insisted upon a feast for the lords who had come to attend, aiming to draw attention from the scene that was going on in the Crown Prince's bedchambers. They say that was the turning point in Targaryen history, one of a few that were about to happen. They say the Queen's eyes followed her husband as he went to jape and joke with the lords. He was well-liked, sure, if they were a bit careful if he was near their wife.

"Her," Rhaella whispered as she got to her feet shakily. She had explicitly told Casterly Rock not to send the lord's sister, Celesse, to King's Landing. "Out!" Her voice tore through the hall, and everything went silent.

The serving boys stopped moving food on the table. Lords stopped talking about the needs of their regions. Wine quit flowing. Eyes turned towards Rhaella Targaryen, her finger pointing at the golden-haired girl who had slipped in through the servant's entrance. They say Lord Lannister couldn't even respond; his eyes were downturned with embarrassment at his sister's actions. They say the King tried to go to his wife, but she pushed him out of the way on her exit from the hall.

The realm could've fractured then. If not for the wise actions of Lady Tully, who followed the Queen dutifully, if a bit behind her out of safety. She knocked quietly on the chambers of Queen Rhaella. "My Queen?" She asked. "May I come in?"

"Yes," The word tore from her throat without her permission. No, she thought miserably, I don't want to see anyone. Especially not a lady. The door creaked open slowly while the brown-haired woman took a seat in a chair beside Rhaella.

"You have been a good Queen," Lady Tully said to her, her voice like a calm river descending through her mind. "It is unfortunate you have been given an unfaithful King. But you have children, wonderful children, that you have raised."

Rhaella scoffed and looked down. "I don't measure up to you, my lady. My eldest children wanted to send the realm into civil war just to solve who was best. My eldest daughter refuses to marry. I've offered her anyone she wanted, even if it was a lower born lord. She refuses. I've only begun to have success with my youngest children, and my husband's sired so many bastards that no one in the Realm dare try to keep track of!"

They say that the trout caught a few sparks from the dragon just then, but the Tully stood firm. "My Queen, you are too hard on yourself," She put her hand on the Queen's shoulder. "Prince Aenys is a wonderful man, and Daenyra a lovely woman. They will make a good King and Queen one day."

If only it were to be true. Little did Lady Tully know, her words would echo in the Queen's mind as a reminder that she had done good with the match. However, the future would have something entirely different to say about it.

. . .

Part 2: Fire

(Seven years later)

For a while, some had wondered if the Dragon had died in Rhaella Targaryen. Her husband had died of a disease that had swept through the nation. While it had generally spared King's Landing, he had been visiting Oldtown and died there. Within days, Aenys had swiftly been announced as the King of the Realm, and his sister Rhaena was now the Princess on Dragonstone. He ruled competently, though distantly from much of the kingdom.

Maesters would look back at that day in the summer as when Rhaella Targaryen let her fire loose for the last time – leading to her weakening and her eventual death just a few years later.

It was quiet in the night. It was warm, humid, as though the very air was attempting to cling to one's skin. Rhaella Targaryen's heart was heavy as she stood in her solar, listening to the Hand of the King. Tears were running down her face as she listened to what he said. The master of whisperers joined in at times to fill in what the Hand didn't know. Grand Maester Brocan's later writings would say that there was grief in Rhaella's eyes, but also determination, resolve. She knew what she had to do wasn't going to be good, but for the sake of the Realm, she would have to do it.

"Send for my son," Her voice was barely a whisper. "Bring me Aeryn."

When neither began to move, her voice cracked with emotion. "Bring him to me!" She cried out. Scuttering out of the room, the master of whisperers quickly ascended the stairs.

The Hand watched impassively as his former Queen fell against the bed, sobs wracking through her body as she cried into the bedspread. "I'm sorry, my Queen," His voice was soft, edging towards her and sitting down beside her. "There should be some way to get out of this."

"There isn't," She snarled, her violet eyes sparkling dangerously as she scrubbed at her eyes. She wouldn't have him see her so low. She was the Dowager Queen, and the iron behind the Targaryen family. She wouldn't stand for this kind of grievous insult. She couldn't afford to.

"My queen," The master of whisperer's voice came through the door. "I have brought him."

She took one deep breath, wiped her eyes one more time, and said, "Send him in."

The moment her youngest son saw Rhaella, he knew something was up. Cuts in her cheek were visible from where she had scratched her own face with her fingernails in her misery. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. Her hair was a rumpled mess, and anger flashed in her eyes. "My son," She nearly choked on the word as she let it out. "Why would you do this?"

"Do what?" A smile was on Aeryn's face from talking to the small councilman, but it was quickly fading. "Mother, what's wrong?"

"You!" She threw a vase at him and it shattered against his chest. Shocked, Aeryn stumbled back towards the door, but she advanced towards him with a dangerous air in the room. Uncertain, the Hand and master of whisperers looked at one another. Who do you protect in the matter of Dowager Queen against Prince? "You are wrong!"

Deadly calm crossed Queen Rhaella's features as she looked at Aeryn, just feet away from him and holding a glass vase in her hand. "Tell me. Did you or did you not impregnate Daenyra?"

A flicker of fear spread on his face, and the Hand knew that the Queen had found the truth. More specifically, they had, and now she was going to act upon it. Her protectiveness over her children spanned more towards her eldest, Aenys, and she sensed that he was under threat because of it. The Hand took a seat heavily in a chair.

"Mother," He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "We were careful, it's not my fault that Aenys doesn't satisfy her."

Rhaella threw the vase against her armoire, the glass shattering against glass, hitting the ground and stabbing into the ground. Her eyes were infuriated, watching Aeryn. "You have disrespected your King, your Queen, your family and yourself. I have to tell Aenys. He will be forced to accuse Daenyra in public, and to defend his honor she will have to submit someone to fight in a trial by combat. You don't need to share her fate, Aeryn." She whispered, not wanting the words to come out of her mouth but they had to. She couldn't lose more than she had to. "Leave."

"What?" He was flabbergasted, not understanding. "Share what fate?"

"Leave!" Rhaella screamed at him, her fists raining down upon him, his shoulders, his back, his arms.

"Go where?" Aeryn fended her off, heading towards the partway open door.

"I don't care!" She screamed. "Get out of this country! Go to Pentos, go to Myr, go to goddamned Asshai for all I care! You're not my son!" She collapsed into the arms of the Hand of the King, who brought her over to the bed, setting her down in it. She had gone unconscious.

When she woke up the next day, she took a deep breath. Rhaella let someone help her into a black dress, and into a pair of sandals. Rhaella quietly began to walk towards the Crown Prince's chambers. She gently knocked on the door of her son's room. "Aenys?" She asked softly.

Her son opened the door, and she was allowed inside. She beat around the bush for a while, but she eventually let the story pour out of her. Aenys took it better than expected, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "You know what I must do," His voice was gentle, but firm. "I have to inform her and the High Septon. You know the punishment for this."

"Death," Rhaella whispered, her voice cracking softly. Sweet Daenyra, what have you done? Rhaella thought, running her hand through her hair.

It wasn't two hours before they were standing outside. Daenyra had wept and begged for forgiveness from Aenys, and Rhaella knew that he had been close to cracking, if it hadn't been for the presence of the High Septon. Aeryn had fled, as expected, taken off in the middle of the night. Rhaella stood in the crowd that had assembled, her hood drawn over her head. She didn't want to be seen by her daughter, knowing that she was the one who had done this.

"Representing King Aenys," The High Septon said gravely, pointing at a door that was being opened. "Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Baelon Targaryen."

Rhaella had expected it, but it didn't make her any less nervous. Baelon was a wonderful swordsman, there was no equal in the Seven Kingdoms. King Aenys had the right to pick any of his Kingsguard, it made sense to choose his best.

The High Septon looked nervously at Baelon as he came out. "And representing Queen Daenyra…" He took a big breath. "Prince Viserys Targaryen."

Rhaella's heart fell into her stomach. What? As she saw her younger son come out, she fell to her knees. Why? She asked of the gods. Why me? What have I done to deserve this punishment, Father? It made sense. Viserys was gallant, and the type to defend the sister that he had loved best. Rhaena tried to push her way forward, cursing out the High Septon and her little sister for their idiocy, but she was just hauled away. She, along with her mother, didn't see as with a heavy heart, Prince Baelon lopped the head off his brother. They say the Kingsguard had tears streaming down his face as he whispered an apology to Viserys before he died. He stalked off before Daenyra joined him in the afterlife.

Just like that, Rhaella had lost three of her family: two to death, one to exile. And her son Baelon had lost a part of his soul in that duel. Aenys would be raising his only son, Aegon, alone. The gods were cruel to House Targaryen – but Rhaella felt they had singled her out specifically in this life. For the first time, she wished to be done with the cruel world.

. . .

Part 3: Grief

(Seven years later)

Rhaella Targaryen had turned into a shadow. She would be seen every so often leaving her room, most of the time with her eldest son Aenys. After Daenyra and Viserys had died, the strains between Baelon and Aenys broke open again, feuding more than ever. But, Baelon stayed loyal and on the Kingsguard. Aeryn had fled somewhere in Essos, heeding her advice. Rhaena had vowed to hunt him down but had remained on Dragonstone.

Rhaella sat on a stone step outside the red keep, her fingers shaking as they tugged at a loose thread on her dress. Her eyes glanced around her quickly, and then back down at her lap. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she breathed deeply, her fingers beginning to clutch the dress by her knees. Five. She thought forlornly. I've lost five children.

She could hear the boots clinking towards her from the castle steps. She turned away from the noise, tears already beginning to well in her eyes. No, she thought. Not you.

Baelon sat heavily beside her, sighing a little bit. He reminded her of his father more and more these days. The brooding was quite similar to his father's, but her Baelon was not nearly as arrogant. She could see distress in his eyes, as though something had gone horribly wrong. Rhaella tensed as his hand sat atop her knee, patting there gently as he thought how to word what he had just found out.

"Mother," He said quietly. "There's been…trouble."

Rhaella turned to him slowly, her purple eyes growing more alert. "Not…not Aenys?"

Baelon gave a little nod. "Daemon Blackfyre killed him in an assault on one of the Stepstones. I'm sorry."

She felt as if her whole world was falling down around her. She had a hard time getting enough breath, her hands clutching at the stones beneath her. No, she thought, this wasn't meant to be. The gods wouldn't do this to her – not after Viserys and Daenyra.

"Why him?" Her voice came out meek and small, blubbery to Baelon.

"Mother?" Baelon didn't understand what she was asking, just thinking she was in a state of self-pity at this point.

"Why him?" Rhaella's voice was hard now. "And not you?" Her voice was clear as ice, and she could immediately tell that she had wounded him, deep inside.

Hurt spread across his face as he got to his feet. "Aenys wouldn't let me take the men to the Stepstones," He said. "He said he was the King and therefore he would lead the force personally. He had an ego as big as mine, mother."

Rhaella was no longer paying him any attention. Her children were dying around her and all she could do was watch. "Daenyra…she was so good," She blubbered to herself as she watched Baelon walk away. "So Queenly. She would've made a good Queen. And Viserys…" A sob broke from her breast and she hit the ground. "Why couldn't it have been Aeryn? And now Aenys…" She whispered. "The gods have punished me for something, I know it." The history books say her last word was, "Blackfyre", but no one can say that for certain.

Rhaella Targaryen died on those stone steps. Her remaining children far, far away. Baelon, already back in the Red Keep. Rhaena, safe on Dragonstone. Aeryn, fled to Myr or Tyrosh. No one even came to recover her body or noticed she was missing for hours. It was said when Baelon Targaryen was notified he just said, "It was her time."

The council room was bustling with activity that day, as they prepared to anoint a new King. Aenys' son, Aegon, was four and ten, old enough to ascend the throne. As the Hand spoke of what the event and preparations would entail, there was one at the table who was wary of the speed in which they were moving. Ser Baelon tapped his fingers against the table lightly. His brother Aenys had never broken the cruelty that his son seemed to exhibit. Aegon resembled his grandfather, Aegon V, more and more with time.

Rhaena had joked years before that maybe if he had ridden a dragon, he would be much easier to tame. So, they tried, putting an egg in his bed, but he had just come to breakfast the next morning asking why this stone was in his room. The Princess had scoffed and lectured him on the value of history, but Aegon had obviously paid her little heed.

Lord Commander Baelon Targaryen had a scar running down his cheek, from one of his previous battles. Some said it resembled a tear, stretching nearly to his jaw. Baelon thought of it as a reminder of his brother Viserys, and how he had wanted to become just like him. Baelon was a quiet one, particularly after the event had occurred with Daenyra. Aenys and Rhaena had been the only two who had watched her die out of the whole family, and neither had much regret, save for Viserys.

He knew that they whispered, Kinslayer behind his back. As if he had a choice. Only Aenys could've retracted his accusation and doing that would've obliterated what respect the lords of the Seven Kingdoms did have for their king. Viserys had been foolish, a foolish child, but nothing more. He hadn't meant ill will, but Daenyra was the one to blame in Baelon's mind. She knew that Baelon would be Aenys' champion, after all, she had come to ask him that morning in fright. He had just whispered, "No."

The Hand noticed Baelon was already going off into space. "My lord, the King wants an audience with you."

Baelon gave a stiff nod. "Alright," He got out of his chair and made his way to the throne room. Aegon wasn't King yet, but they had already given him power to do as he wished. A dangerous thing for a child so reckless.

Aegon resembled his grandfather in his personality, but he resembled Aenys in his looks. He was slender, with purple eyes, tall enough – Baelon thought he could've been a great warrior had he had the will to do it. But unlike Aenys' eyes, which were gentle and soft, Aegon's were hard and bitter, looking down at his uncle with incredible dislike. Baelon…may have suggested to Aenys that he hit his son more, as Aegon was a brat, but Aenys had refused, the more diplomatic of the two of them.

"My prince," Baelon knelt at the foot of the throne, his eyes averted.

"Your King," Aegon corrected coolly.

Baelon did all he could not to snort in response. He knew exactly what Aegon looked like without even glancing up. Puffed up and proud, pretending to be a King when he didn't understand the hardships that his father had gone through. He probably thought he was rather intelligent for that remark. But Baelon stayed quiet. "What did you request of me?"

Aegon looked at him. "Your cloak."

Baelon sighed. He had wondered if it would come to that.

"No!" A voice howled from the back of the room. Baelon didn't need to check who that was either. A very kind fellow, but rather stupid for his outburst. The most recent addition to his Kingsguard would not know when to shut his mouth.

He unclasped the white cloak from around his back and let it fall to the floor. "Is there anything else, my King?"

Aegon lit up at being recognized by his uncle in such a manner. "Yes. Your sword," He had his hand outstretched.

Baelon bristled. Dark Sister had been given to him by his own father, and Aenys had no problem with allowing him to keep it. The sword was ingrained in him as much as anything else. No, this simply wouldn't do. "I am sorry my King, but I cannot." He rose to his feet again.

"Guards," He nodded at the gold cloaks and the remaining of the Kingsguard in the room. "Take the sword from the Kinslayer."

The gold cloaks were especially skittish, looking at Aegon in alarm as Baelon brandished Dark Sister. Three came at him at once, but one swing from the sword and their necks were all cut. You have made a mistake, nephew, Baelon thought as he fled the Red Keep, Dark Sister in tow.

House Targaryen at the end of the chapter

Main line

King Aegon V Targaryen, son of King Aenys II Targaryen and Princess Daenyra Targaryen, 14

Ser Baelon Targaryen, former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, 30

Princess of Dragonstone Rhaena Targaryen, 27

Secondary line

Exiled Prince Aeryn Targaryen, 24

(brother to King Aegon V) Viserys Targaryen, 13

House Blackfyre

Ser Daemon Blackfyre, King of the Stepstones, 28

Ser Aerys Blackfyre, Prince of the Pass, 27

Ser Aegon Blackfyre, Defier of Driftmark, 25

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading and looking at my story, I took a lot of time on this to make it as good as I possibly could :D I hope you all enjoyed. Read the rules below before submitting a House or a Targaryen. There are separate forms found below for each of them (PM only) – can also be found on my profile. My plan is to update this weekly, and The End twice or three times a month. I wanted something to do in quarantine!

Rules

1. You can submit any House (but I prefer the major ones first) as well as any living Targaryen or Blackfyre listed. There are certain things I want from each Targaryen, though, so I will be a bit more stringent and ask follow-up questions for them. Take cues from the chapters if they are mentioned.

2. This story is Targaryen-centric only in the first chapter. I hope to have a lot of things going around in Westeros at this time, so make full, completed Houses.

3. No Mary-Sues, Gary-Stus. It's hard to do so in GoT, but I love the complexity of GoT/ASOIAF, so I don't think that'll be an issue.

4. You can submit 1 Targaryen for now each, as well as 1 Major House (Paramounts) and as many minor houses you want

5. This is rated T, and will have elements, but nothing super graphic of violence and sexy times.

6. This is GoT! Make houses have ambitions, getting on the throne or supplanting someone chief of all. Think about having maybe the North/Iron Islands/Dorne wanting independence, or at least open to the idea.

7. I will ask questions after the forms are submitted. Don't be offended if they're questions about your character or changing something. Most likely it's because I've already gotten a character similar in another House.

8. Have fun! Look below and you will see a House form. That is for the Houses of Westeros. You will fill it out for like Baratheons, Tyrells, Lannisters, Starks, etc. The other form is for Targaryens only as it is for a single character each. Please fill out each form respective to what character you are sending in. The House form shouldn't take horribly long, so if you want to submit multiple, go ahead.

HOUSE FORM (thank you StormHunter for allowing me to use large parts of the form you sent me)

House Name:

House Words:

Region:

Household Members (names) & Ages (including bastards):

Give six appearance traits of each family member (can be just a list):

Ambition of the House:

For each member, give six personality traits (3 positives, 3 negative):

TARGARYEN/BLACKFYRE FORM

Name:

Age:

Titles/Alias (if applicable):

Sexuality:

Where are they in the line of succession:

Appearance:

Clothing Style (formal, travel, sleepwear):

Personality:

Backstory (use elements of the story and can elaborate on what you want):

Ambition:

What do they think of their family members (Targaryen/Blackfyre):

What kind of marriage are they looking for (romantic, for power):

Weapon of Choice:

Other: