Hi all! This is my updated, re-edited first installment of my Robb Stark/OC story! For those of you here from the beginning, thank you for loving this story even though the writing could be a hot mess. The newest versions of the rest of the installments will be uploaded ASAP.
Love you all so so much. As always, I only own my OCs.
Side note: If it's italicized quotes, the characters are speaking Valyrian. If it's bold, the characters are speaking Dothraki.
hāedar means "little sister"
BTW: Before any new readers get attached, a warning. Mad Queen!Dany WILL exist. Take heart, it won't be out of nowhere or poorly built like D&D did. Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen is one of my favorite characters, so me making her dark is not me being hateful towards her, or trying to bash her. That being said, I know people can be very protective of their favorite characters, which is completely understandable and I won't blame you if you decide not keep reading. That is your prerogative. I swear to treat the Queen with the respect she and Emilia Clarke deserve. That being said, I will not tolerate any hateful comments and I will redirect you to the memo you may or may not have read about Dany going dark.
Have you ever stared out at the horizon, looking towards a home you've never known? Have you spent your days hoping and praying to the gods - old and new - that you'd one day return and claim what was rightfully yours?
This was the shared dream of Viserys and Daenerys of the House Targaryen. For them, their life in Essos was not permanent, but a stepping stone for what was to come. One day they'd cross the Narrow Sea and stand once more on the sands of Westeros. The kind and quiet Daenerys Stormborn just wanted to go home, regardless of the fact she'd only been there long enough to be born. Viserys would sit on the Iron Throne, his birthright as a Targaryen. But he was a horrid man, far too much like the father only he remembered. Both were monsters, and those who are cruel will always be unfit to rule, lest their madness roll through the land like the deadliest disease.
This was not the dream of the youngest of the three exiled Targaryens. No, Jaenarys Fireborn did not want to go to Westeros. She didn't want to stand by her abhorrent brother. She didn't want to rule. She didn't want power. The consequences were too severe. Madness ran in her family. She saw it in her brother and she heard of her father's when Viserys would tell her tales of King Aerys, pride ringing in his words at the man's cruelty. Besides, why would she leave the only home she'd ever known? She had no memories of Westeros. Nothing but her name bound her to the land across the Narrow Sea, and even then the Targaryens originally came from Old Valyria. Essos was her home. She wanted to see more than the Free Cities the trio of Targaryens traveled through, be it by boat, horse, or foot. She wanted to put down her weapons, rest her fists, keep her sticky fingers away from the markets. After thirteen years of providing for a brother who never lifted a finger for her or Dany, she was more than ready to walk her own path.
Still, Jaenarys knew this was a fickle dream. She couldn't just go off and explore Essos alone, not if it meant leaving her slightly older twin behind. With Jaenarys gone, Viserys would only treat Daenerys as cruelly as he'd treated his youngest sister. As strong as her twin was, Jaenarys was unsure the other girl would survive what she'd been put through, nor would she want her to face the same challenges. Jaenarys would happily sacrifice her dream if it meant the other half of her soul would be safe from their brother's wrath.
And indeed, the sisters were two parts of a whole. Daenerys was Stormborn, named for the storm that waged during their birth. Born only a few moments later, Jaenarys was Fireborn, as the moment she came screaming into the world the tree beside their mother burst into flames. Daenerys was the storm and Jaenarys was its consequence. Even moreso, that same fire coursed through the youngest Targaryens veins with far more ferocity than it did her siblings. It was what fueled her fight, what kept her from succumbing to Viserys's cruelty.
Jaenarys sighed as she stared out the window towards Westeros. Not out of longing, but resignation. If all went according to Viserys's plan, he and Daenerys were that much closer to their dream while Jaenarys was only being pulled further away. After months of careful planning, their host Illyrio - Magister of Pentos - had arranged a potential marriage between Daenerys of the House Targaryen and the ruthless Khal Drogo of the Dothraki. Jaenarys had seen a few Dothraki in her travels. They were far more nomadic than the exiled Targaryens. The horse-mounted warriors were dangerous and barbaric. They raped, pillaged, and tore through villages with the wildness of any unbroken mare. To Viserys, they were the perfect army, and he would have them take Westeros in his name. It was a fair trade in his eyes, a wedding for an army. But for Jae, all she saw was Daenerys's freedom being ripped away, along with the possibility of her life should Daenerys displease Khal Drogo. Illyrio had spared no detail of the warlord and his Khalasaar when Jaenarys had asked for information. He'd seemed taken aback by the youngest Targaryen's curiosity and consistent questioning. A strong supporter of her brother's cause and loyal to him only for the sake of power, Illyrio was happy to acquiesce to Jae's long list of Dothraki related requests. He even taught her the language, some of which she'd attempted to teach Daenerys in return. Her sister was stubborn, though, and hated the reminder she was to be sold into a loveless union.
Jaenarys slowly ran her hand through the flickering candle beside her, smiling at the warmth. She was sure her bath had been just as hot as the flame to her left for the room had been nothing but steam. She didn't feel it, though. Heat had always been her friend. She supposed it could have been the shared namesake. Whatever it was, it made Viserys hate her all the more.
As Jaenarys stared out at the Narrow Sea, the sunlight made her violet eyes glow. Her silver braids glittered like the water beneath her, wrapped around the back of her head like a crown. Her golden skin was complemented by her red dress, the fabric sheer enough that you could make out the outlines of her breasts and the tan sandals adorning her feet. Her bare arms boasted long white scars, most thin save for the large long-healed gash across her right shoulder.
Someone knocked on the door. She gasped and spun, the three-headed dragon pin on her chest catching the candlelight. "Who is it?" She asked, voice slightly raspy from disuse.
"It's me, Nary." Daenerys softly responded.
Jaenarys rushed to the door and threw it open, welcoming her twin's hug before stepping back to look at her. Daenerys's silver hair was down and parted to the side, her curls brushed into soft waves with two strands braided and tied back. She wore a pale satin dress thinner than the one Jaenarys was dressed in, her body almost fully on display for the warlord who would claim her. A three-headed dragon pin was attached to both shoulders. Fear shone in her blue eyes and so Jaenarys reached out to cup her face, bringing their foreheads together. Jaenarys rose to the balls of her feet so the gesture would be more comfortable. Daenerys was only a couple inches taller, but it made all the difference.
"I'm sorry. This should be my fate, not yours." She apologized. "You should not bear this responsibility, not if it risks your freedom and return home. I can talk to our brother and Illyrio again. Perhaps I can change -"
"No." Daenerys quickly snapped. "This is not a fate you deserve either, hāedar." The Valyrian endearment rolled easily off her tongue. "You've done more than enough for Viserys and I."
"I am a kinslayer, Dany. Viserys will change his mind as soon as I mention it, you know he will. He hates me for it, and perhaps this could be his best punishment."
"Mother's death was not your fault, little sister." Dany reminded her sharply, though her tone was soft. "And our brother is too blinded by his own cruelty to see the truth."
"My birth cost our mother her life."
"You have saved us more than once. Mother would be proud."
Jaenarys hid her grimace as memories of spilt blood and battles that should not have been fought played in her mind. Daenerys didn't know the truth. She didn't know just how her little sister had saved them. Nor would she ever, not if Jaenarys had anything to do with it.
So the youngest nodded and stepped back, holding her sister's hands. She glanced over Daenerys's shoulders as their tall brother stepped into view, hands clasped behind his back and sword swinging in its hilt. Jaenarys eyed the blade enviously, angered at the reminder of Illyrio's gift to her brother. He'd never used a weapon in his life, nor did he know the first thing about combat. This sword would be lost on him.
"Ah. There are my two ravishing sisters. Jaenarys, fix your expression." He quickly grabbed her chin, lifting her face so their eyes could meet. Like Daenerys he had blue eyes, and had said Jaenarys's violet eyes had only been a cruel reminder of the life she'd taken.
"What do you mean, my King?" Jaenarys questioned. He struck her across the face with the back of his hand. Though her cheek throbbed at his hit, she made no sound. She didn't even flinch. Instead she blinked up at her brother, eyes closing in disgust as he wetly kissed the new welt.
"Mind your tone, Kinslayer." He stepped between the twins and linked their elbows together. "Come. We must not be late." Viserys snapped before leading the sisters down the halls of Illyrio's estate. Their host awaited them on the front steps, bowing to the royals.
"My King. My Princesses." He greets, smiling at the girls. "You both look divine."
"Thank you, Illyrio." Jaenarys responded, curtsying with her sister as their brother glared at the youngest.
"You will stand behind me, out of the Khal's sight. His attention must be on Daenerys. Should he look at you, he will be insulted." Viserys whispered in Jaenarys's ear, touching her scars before tugging her away from her twin. "Our host is too kind to you. Understand?"
"Yes, my King." Jaenarys met his eyes before looking down. She counted the cracks in the floor beneath her, the cool breeze soothing her cheek.
Viserys grunted impatiently. "Where is he?"
"The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality." Illyrio calmly informed his King. As soon as he'd spoken, the sound of thundering hooves rose in the near distance. Jaenarys's head snapped up and she peered over Viserys's shoulder, eyes taking in the four khalasar as they galloped towards the steps. Three of the riders stop before their leader. He's a massive man, body and face decorated with war paint, his hair braided down to his ass. Illyrio had told her that if a Dothraki had a long braid, it meant he'd never lost a fight. Jaenarys spared a quick glance at her sister, fear creeping into her chest.
Illyrio walked over the Dothraki, greeting them in their language before speaking in the common tongue. "May I present my honored guests? Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, his youngest sister Jaenerys of House Targaryen, and his sister Daenerys of House Targaryen." The Lord gestured to the three Targaryens.
Daenerys steps forward, but is stopped by Viserys. Jaenarys leans forward to listen as their brother whispers over Illyrio's Dothraki. "Do you see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat they cut off their braid so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. He's a savage, of course, but he's one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen." He let her go, and Jaenarys watched unblinking as the older twin walked towards Illyrio and the Khal. While graceful, her steps were timid. Jaenarys felt pride flutter in her stomach when she noticed Daenerys's shoulders were back, giving off the illusion that she was comfortable and in control. Though ridiculously small compared to Khal Drogo, Daenerys would not look weak.
The Khal looks down at her, face blank. He clicks his tongue and starts riding away, eyes on Daenerys until he was forced to look away. His three riders followed and Viserys ran forward, confused. "Where's he going?"
"The ceremony is over." Illyrio patiently informed him. Jaenarys was reminded of a parent soothing their temperamental child.
"But he - but he didn't say anything! Did he like her?"
"Trust me, Your Grace. If he didn't like her, we'd know. Come, let us walk." Illyrio held out his arm to Jaenarys, who politely accepted it. As soon as they'd reached Daenerys she took her twin's hand instead, the two girls centering each other as they followed the men towards the gardens.
Viserys and Illyrio stop at the stone fencing, the girls standing off to the side but still close enough to the men that they could hear their conversation. Daenerys squeezed her sister's hand, hoping to relax the tense girl. It had little effect on her.
"It won't be long now." The Magister said with a smile. "Soon you will cross the narrow sea and take back your father's throne. The people drink secret toasts to your health." The girls side-eyed each other at the lie, their brother too blinded by his arrogance to believe anything else. "They cry out for their true King."
Viserys hissed and resumed walking, leading the Magister and his sisters through the garden. "When will they be married?"
"Soon. The Dothraki never stay still for long."
"Is it true they lie with their horses?" Viserys asks, and Daenerys squeezed her sister's hand once more.
"I wouldn't ask Khal Drogo."
Jaenarys laughed, slow to cover it. This earned her one of her brother's deadliest glares, but she refused to be intimidated by its ferocity. "Did you say something, Jaenarys?"
"No, my King."
Viserys hummed, then turned to their host. "Do you take me for a fool?"
Illyrio shook his head. Viserys focused instead on Illyrio, who shook his head. "I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of comment men." Like our father, Jaenarys thought. "My apologies if I've given offense."
"I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him a queen, and he gives me an army." Viserys sang, standing tall.
"I don't want to be his queen." Daenerys spoke up, stopping the two men in their tracks. "I want to go home."
Viserys advanced on his sister, and her twin stepped in front of her. "So do I. I want us three to go home, but they took it from us." Viserys glared at Daenerys over Jaenarys's head "So tell me, sweet sister, how do we go home?"
"I don't know." She replied, lost. Jaenarys couldn't find herself coming up with a plan, either. Despite how much she hated this, Viserys and Daenerys needed an army to return home. As none had been offered to the exiled king, this was the next best thing. It just should've been Jaenarys who was traded for the men. Viserys would get his army, Daenerys could go home, and should she survive being Khal Drogo's wife, Jaenarys could spend the rest of her days riding through Essos.
"We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo's army." Viserys forced the youngest out of the way to stroke Daenerys's face. The gesture would've been loving if he was capable of such a thing. "I would let his whole tribe fuck you and Jaenarys. All 40,000 men and their horses too, if that's what it took." Jaenarys glared at him, violet eyes burning with deadly hatred. He only kissed Daenerys forehead, then the youngest's. His chapped lips felt like coarse sand against Jaenarys's smooth skin. They lingered too long, and Jaenarys wrinkled her nose as he inhaled her scent. Then he rejoined Illyrio, leaving his disgusted sisters behind.
The next day, Jaenarys found herself sitting on the ruins of the beach beneath Illyrio's manse. She looked towards her sister, who sat beside her massive husband. On Jaenarys's other side was her brother, who watched the celebration of his sister's union with the Khal with a distasteful expression. The men and women of the khalasar danced to the heavy beats of the drums, their movements raunchy.
By the end of the festivities, her sister would be whisked away by her husband to consummate their marriage. Viserys would have his army, and Jaenarys would follow her siblings with a heavy heart. She growled under her breath, disgusted. There she was mourning the loss of her dream, while her sister had just been sold off like livestock in a market. Jaenarys would happily sacrifice her hopes of exploring Essos if it meant keeping her sister safe from their brother and the Khal.
As a man came forward and offered a bowl to Daenerys. Her twin looked away, out towards the sea. She inhaled the intoxicating scent of salt and fire, closing her eyes with a smile on her face. They snapped open when she heard hissing, and Jaenarys's head turned towards her sister's as the older twin let out a scared gasp. The youngest leaned forward, curiously glancing at the box of snakes. She watched as the man rearranged them before bowing to Khal Drogo. He walked down the steps and back towards the celebration, his gift received.
Uncomfortable after sitting for so long, Jaenarys wriggled into a more comfortable position. Illyrio had gifted her a black dress. The straps hung loosely off her shoulders, with a slit cut mid-thigh on each side. The skirt lifted in the breeze, her gold legs on display. Along with her scars, which had gotten the attention of nearby Dothraki. They eyed her with curiosity. She was scarred, yes, but what story did they tell other than victory? After all, she still lived, her hair long. Today the left side of her head was braided into tiny strands, all of them woven around the back of her head to join with the large braid on the right. She stood out next to her older twin, who wore a pale blue dress. Jaenarys's outfit had garnered glares from Viserys, but she preferred his hatred over the longing in his eyes as he stared at her. She had to remind herself despite her brother's lustful gazes, he'd never act on them. He hated her more than he wanted her. She killed their mother, after all.
Jaenarys glanced around the roasting feast of horse hearts and whole lambs, attention returning to the revelry unfolding before her. A woman approached the two dancers, baring her breast, her dark skin glowing under the slowly setting sun. A man came up to her, baring her other breast and squeezing her chest. They and the other dancers practically fucked before the Khal, his wife, and her family. To Jaenarys's surprise, her brother only drank instead of joining.
One of the women was pushed to her knees, but it didn't bother her. The man she'd been dancing with shoved aside by another, who took his place and savagely thrust into her from behind. Khal Drogo released an impressed grunt as the shoved man stood back up, striking the other in the face. He fell to the ground, the crowd chanting for blood as they fought. It ended when one of the men sliced his curved blade - an arakh - through the other's stomach, the man's intestines spilling out. He sliced off the deceased's braid and let him crash to the floor, proudly holding the hair up to his pleased Khal. Jaenarys caught her sister looking away, but this violence was nothing compared to what the youngest Targaryen had experienced.
"A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair." She heard Illyrio tell her brother, who laughed and drank more wine. Jaenarys hummed, eyes stuck on the fallen man's blade. She shifted forward, but her efforts were stopped by the arrival of an Andal, dressed in dark clothes and a dark grey cloak. He carried with him three books, and after exchanging a respectful conversation with Khal Drogo the man ascended the steps, bypassing Viserys to offer the texts to Daenerys.
Daenerys took them, and the first smile of the day graced her pale face. Jaenarys smiled in return, looking pleasantly at the Andal. "Thank you, ser. Are you from my country?"
"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I served your father for many years. Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful king." Ser Jorah glances over at Viserys, bowing to him before walking away.
Illyrio cleared his throat and gestured to four of his servants. One duo walked up towards Daenerys with a large box. Jaenarys was taken by surprise when the other two approached her, carrying a smaller trunk. They presented Illyrio's gifts to the princesses, opening them as the Magister of Pentos stood.
Jaenarys glanced towards her sister's gift first, eyes widening at the sight of the three dragon eggs. One was black, the second green, and the third bronze. Her violet orbs flicked down to the box at her feet, mouth dropping at the single egg resting on velvet fabric. Grey with green-tipped scales, it was warmer than she expected it to be, though she supposed it was hot enough in the box.
"Dragon eggs, my Princesses." Illyrio began, watching as the sisters held an egg. As Jaenarys stroked the cales she looked up at the kind man with a soft smile. "From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful." Illyrio turned to the youngest Targaryen, frowning. "I am sorry, Princess, but the two beside yours were broken apart in their travels."
"It is no matter, Lord Illyrio. One is enough." Jaenarys thanked the man.
"Thank you, Magister." Illyrio bowed to Daenerys and sat back down. Jaenarys glanced towards Viserys to see him staring at the twins with a mix of interest and jealousy. She felt no urge to glare back, not with the dragon egg in her hands occupying her full attention. It shifted once more when the drums stopped.
Khal Drogo had stood up, and turned to Daenerys. After carefully setting the green egg back down in its box she stood, adjusting her dress as she rose. As he walked away Daenerys slowly followed him. Jaenarys watched from the top of the steps as the khalasar surrounded her, parting when the warlord emerged. He presented his bride with a white mare, and Jaenarys was given little time to put down her egg before Viserys grabbed her wrist, tugging her with them. By the time the siblings reached their sister, she was seated on the back of her gifted.
With his free hand, Viserys grabbed her thigh. "Make him happy." He ordered. Daenerys looked away from him and down at Jaenarys. With a sad smile they touched foreheads.
"I am with you, Dany." The younger twin vowed, speaking quietly in High Valyrian. The Khal began to ride and his Khaleesi was quick to follow, leaving the revelry behind.
Taking note of her brother's ugly smirk, Jaenarys glared up at him. "You disgust me."
He returned her cold stare in full force, grabbing her chin tightly. "There will be a time when you wish you held your tongue. One of these days my patience for your disrespect will become thin. Pray it doesn't end with your death, you useless wench."
Jaenarys smacked his hand away. "You don't scare me, brother. We both know I've dealt with worse than you." She stepped back and smiled pleasantly. "Enjoy the festivities, my King."
Jaenarys curtsied dramatically and spun on her heel. She ignored her brother's calls as she returned to her seat. As the celebration reconvened, the youngest Targaryen picked up her egg, smiling at its warmth.
Her brother called himself the last dragon, but he had no egg of his own to hold. Nor would he ever.