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Egg is on his way over to yell at the two men fighting by the entrance when the door flies open and a crack echoes through the house. He winces, noting how Brandon collapses lifelessly to the the floor.
Ignoring the two men, Lyanna strolls in, little Daemon in her arms. Excitedly the baby screams when he sees his many greats-grandfather, holding his arms out to Egg.
"So he does like you best of all of us?"
"It's the hair, must remind him of mommy." Egg winks at the brunette, bowing his head so that the baby could grab onto his circlet.
"Sorry we took so lo-" Jon pauses when he spots Brandon's unconscious form, nudging his uncle in the side.
"Rhaegar, and a little help from the door." Egg supplies, kissing Daemon's head. Jon had been planning this day for close to a year, but despite that he hadn't factored in old grudges between his and Dany's extended families.
Jon waves Rhaegar away from Brandon, lifting the man up under his arms. "Gods, Dad, can you help? I've asked you to behave for just one day!"
"He started it, you should have asked your bull-headed uncle to behave too."
"I don't care about who started it, the important thing is that no one continues it," Jon growls, dragging Brandon away to one of the bedrooms with Rhaegar's help. Egg giggles at how much it looks like they've committed a murder together.
When he gets back to the lounge where he and some of the other older members of the family were gathered, his great-uncle Brynden coos at little Daemon, stealing him from Egg's arms. "Here he is, Dany and Jon's boy."
"Isn't he gorgeous?" Aunt Shiera purrs, running a finger over his chubby cheek, her blood red nails stark against his fair skin. Egg breaks out into a cold sweat. "He's like a little Valarr isn't he?"
"God's rest his soul," Baelor croaks from where he's slumped in his chair, a leatherbound copy of the Seven Pointed Star clutched in his hand.
Maekar rolls his eyes, tapping his phone's screen. "He's not dead, Baelor, he's only got the flu."
"Oh." Baelor says confused, squinting at Maekar. "Who are you again?"
"Maekar, Aegon's grandson," Shiera answers, stroking Daemon's cheeks.
"And which Aegon is that?" Groans fill the air, and half their company depart from the room. Uncle Baelor grabs Maekar's wrist, dragging his brother with him further into the palace despite his furious protests.
***
Jon breathes a sigh of relief when they get Brandon down. Only Starks and Targaryens had arrived so far, and already the day had spiralled into half a mess. All he wanted to do was propose to the love of his life in front of their family, but no, rivalries and grudges had to take precedence. So far there had been four verbal fights, two punches thrown, and way too many sexual innuedos for a family gathering.
Jon had only told a handful of people about his plans, hoping they could keep everyone else in check. He had the ring in his pocket, the timing sorted (after everyone ate and were too sleepy to get rambunctious), and even had a role and outfit for Daemon, which his mom would be handling.
"You're doing great, kiddo," someone says from in the bathroom adjacent to the room he'd dumped uncle Brandon in. Jon peeked his head in, spying his favourite sister-cousin (his family was complicated, okay?).
"And what's this?"
Arya smiles at the sound of his voice, bounding over into his arms. "I've missed you big bro."
"And I've missed you, you never visit."
"Because you never leave Summerhall," Arya replies, squeezing him closer. "By the way, I got Dany to do her nails, so you're all set for pictures."
"Thanks sis." Jon smiled, allowing her to draw back out of his arms to attend the little boy sitting on the potty. "Neddie! Don't tell me you still need your mom to hold your hand while you poop?"
The three year old huffed, scrunching up his face in anger. "Tell your uncle to worry about his life before messing in yours," Arya teased, pinching her baby's cheek. "You should really stop aunt Shiera from serving those welcoming drinks grammie Melanthe mixed."
"Wha-"
"They might have a little extra kick in them. Something about avenging her?"
Jon sped off without another word, shoving Aerion to the side as he passed, and just narrowly stopping himself from knocking great-aunt Visenya over. He freezes in front of her, cowering under her gaze. "Au-Aunt Visenya, my lady. It's good to see you again," Jon chokes out. "I'm sorry I wasn't looking where I was going."
"That's fine," she says cooly, offering her arm. "Why don't we have a walk?"
Jon almost groans out loud, but catches himself in time. Fuck it, whoever takes a drink from Shiera of all people deserves exactly what they get.
***
"So why is that Greyjoy man here?" Daeron asks his wife, grabbing her purse off the ground and putting it in her lap when he sees Euron walk through the house.
"I honestly couldn't tell you, but the area is small, he probably heard there was a party going on and decided to stop by."
"It's quite tacky to show up without invitation, but what can you expect from a man who drinks Shade recreationally?"
"You should tell Maekar to put the silver away, and Dyana's good china," Mariah recommends, secretly amused by her husband's suspicion. "I think Elia left her purse by the door too."
"I'll be right back," Daeron says, marching off to presumably hide the valuables.
***
"God your families are chaotic," Missandei says, sipping on daytime champagne and observing the chaos in the backyard. They had taken refuge in the kitchens, stealing treats as the chefs and maids fluttered around.
"If no one commits arson, ritualistic sacrifice or anything resembling a trial of seven, I'd consider it a success," Dany replies, catching a glimpse of Alaric and Jaehaerys going at it. "Scratch that, if no one dies it'll be a good day."
They're talking about Missandei's trip to Naath when her mother walks in, wrapping dainty arms around both girls in greeting, her perfume invading Dany's senses. The heiress pulls away, her stomach churning dangerously.
Rhaella pauses, an odd look on her face. "Are you well, my flower? You look a little green."
"Of course, mom." Dany laughs nervously, the counter digging into her back. "Just a little overwhelmed from the heat."
"Join me outside then, Egg and Aemon's been parading Daemon around. I'm sure they've taken his hat off already."
"You two go ahead, I'll just be a minute." Dany rushes to her bedroom, gratefully that she makes it to the sink before the nausea hits her. She startles when she feels a cold hand at her nape. Rhaella is standing there, a wide smile on her face.
"Do you have something to tell me?"
"Surprise?"
***
His father had been running a hand up his mother's thigh slyly, and all but drenched his hand in her cunt, so Daemon had taken that as the go ahead to shove his hand up under Rhaenyra's dress.
"Behave, will you? There are guests around!" Rhaenyra whispers fiercely, clenching her thighs together.
"Fuck them, all I see is you." There was nothing wrong with a little PDA; Daemon enjoyed passion in their relationship and fire in his loins (the good kind, he'd had enough STDs in his youth to know the difference), and while his wife wasn't a prude, she did have a bit of an aversion for exhibitionism.
His love was as beautiful as ever, wearing a red wrap dress that hugged all of her curves just right and the gorgeous ruby necklace he'd gifted her on their wedding anniversary resting atop her full breasts in lieu of her crown. Daemon growled at the sight, grabbing her breast.
He's about to tear her dress away with his teeth and take a nipple into his mouth when he is kicked harshly. He flinches away from Rhaenyra, glaring at Aegon. "What?"
"'What?' You're being inappropriate, father. I had hoped mother had more sense." Though his son's pout was pretty, Daemon had no patience for the false modesty today. He had been around his extended family for hours, and hadn't sunk his cock into, or emptied his balls on Rhaenyra since this morning.
"I'm sorry love," Rhaenyra says, a pretty blush dusting her cheeks. "We'll behave, right Daemon?"
"Mother, fix your dress," Rhaena interjects sweetly, and Daemon frowns unhappily, munching on a raspberry tart. Distracted for a moment, he notes Viserys's colour at the table across from theirs. His brother should really get that checked out, going all red probably isn't a good sign for his cardiovascular health, even for a Targaryen.
Rhaenyra thanks her stepdaughter, walking off into the house to fix her appearance with a last lingering kiss on Daemon's lips and a promise of later.
"You children are no fun," Daemon grumbles, accepting the wipe Rhaena produces out of thin air. She's been procuring all sorts of things out of that tiny bag of hers, and Daemon vaguely wonders what spell Shiera helped her with now. "I might have you all sent to Driftmark permanently, or worse, Harrenhal."
"Mother or aunt Rhaena would send us back," Baela remarks, a familiar quirk to her lips. "Grandma Alyssa and Grandpa Baelon are visiting uncle Aemon, and you know how mother gets when there are too many people around her having sex."
"I told her to soundproof those rooms, or to just come stay with us. She can sail Vhagar from Dragonstone too."
"Ugh, no," Viserys groans, a disgusted look on his face. "I can hardly sleep with Jace and Baela around, and when Sara joins them, it's even worse."
"You'd just let your brother outfuck you like that? Vis, I've taught you better. When all this is over, why don't we take Caraxes to Lys and get your beauty back?"
"Father," Aegon reprimands, landing another kick against Daemon's shin.
Daemon winces. "I hate seeing my son unhappy, is that a crime now?"
Viserys just shakes his head, wandering away to find his children. His father really was something else.
"You better start behaving yourself old man, aunt Visenya's expected to come down any minute and I don't think Dany or Jon need you starting fights or an orgy club in their backyard."
"Oh please, all of our blood runs hot. Visenya would understand, and besides, don't act like you have the moral high ground, Luke. You've been beating that Corbray boy to a pulp every day in the training yard and then fucking Rhaena after like we wouldn't see. I think I'm the least scandalous at this table."
"With examples like you lot, there's little hope for our children's innocence," Jace remarks, laughing when Daemon tugs on his ear. "We can only hope the little ones don't take after any of their namesakes."
"All the Daemons have been as handsome and virile as me - and that's all thanks to my mommy," Daemon states, flashing a smirk to annoy his children. "Do you see how every Targaryen man has been passionate about their wives? That's all me. Jon practically sprung from my loins, look at how he holds Dany, that hand never leaves her ass, but who can blame him, right?"
"Okay you can stop with the fawning now, father. I'm pretty sure your descendants don't want to hear about how fuckable you think they are."
"You just gave me a great idea, my sweet little Baela," Daemon cheers, pushing away from the table and calling out to Aegon, his whore of a grandson, for a game of fuck, marry, kill. Rhaegar would have done as a third, the boy did have two wives after all, but he was storming around with that harp of his like he'd just seen his family die and Daemon only wanted good vibes, as Saera would say.
***
"So you intend to ask Daenerys's hand in marriage," Visenya states more than asks. Out here, no one would hear him scream, Jon thinks, smiling unknowingly.
"Ye-Yes, my lady," Jon says ever-courteous with his great-aunt. He clears his throat, hoping he isn't sweating on her arm. "It's supposed to be a secret, but I guess everyone knows."
"They don't."
"Oh, we-well that's good then."
"It is." She stops suddenly, looking out across the property. "Jon, do you know what this is?"
Jon follows her eyes. "Of course, my lady. This is your Garden of Rememberance, I remember the opening day."
"That it is. After my siblings departed this earth, I had this built on the grounds as a part of my newest display. Maekar was still staying here, and though Dragonstone was our home, Dorne meant a lot to us and our legacy. When Daeron raised this castle we both lit candles in honour of the other conquerors who didn't live to see it."
Jon nods, noting the sunlight shimmering on the surface of the pool and the dragon sculptures adorning the area. "Daenerys is a sweet girl, a brave girl. She, more than anyone else, save perhaps you, is the future of our house. She has done much and more bringing us out of the financial and reputational slump we hit. The company had been ruined by your grandfather, and Rhaelle's grandson had capitalised on that, using his shares to take over when by rights Rhaegar was supposed to take over from his father."
Jon sits by silently, allowing Visenya to continue. "Your contributions cannot be discounted either Jon. You've shown strength and leadership in the bleakest of moments, when even Jaehaerys and Maekar, and your Stark family were hopeless in the face of the challenge the Others brought for business."
"But in light of your union," she continues, "I'm reminded that not every marriage our family has brokered has always been successful or happy, especially for the women. Naerys despaired having to marry Aegon simply because he was the eldest, and Daenerys number two was less than joyous about hers, not to mention your grandmother. The women in our family have always been more dutiful, and the men tend to stray off the paths built for them, whether from desire or duty - it's why I don't let that wretched Hightower branch near the property save for Christmas."
They share a smile. "I hope that you and Daenerys have a happy marriage, and a happy life, Jon. I have only one thing to ask of you before giving you my blessing."
"Anything, my lady."
"Don't break her heart, and don't allow yours to be broken either. It sounds easy I know, but marriage is more complicated than attraction or love. You have a son together, already binding you for life, but marriage is different."
"I understand my lady, love takes work, my parents and Dany taught me that. Those years we spent apart, with me working in the North and her in Braavos, were hard, but we worked through it and loved each other despite the obstacles."
"You both had duties to others, and performed exceptionally considering how hard it is for others to find a balance when matters of the heart are involved." She taps a beat into the bench beneath them, something Jon has heard his father play before. "Jaehaerys had a good tenure running our businesses, but he was terrible at leading the family. Alysanne shouldered most of the work relatong to the family while he built those roads that cost a fortune in upkeep every year," Visenya tuts. "By the time she called me, Saera had already run off to Lys and Maegor was doing five years in prison, with Hightowers running around disguised as maesters and septons."
"So while Aegon was running after Rhaena and Aerea, I went to bring Saera home. She was in an upscale whorehouse dressed as a septa's novice and with the slyest little smirk on her face, but as soon as she saw me, she shrunk away like a tortoise disappearing into it's shell. I brought her home, because I knew she wasn't a bad girl, only too indulged. A few years with my cane and I, and she would have been as behaved as Maegelle," Visenya jokes, and Jon finds a new beauty in the way she smiles. Vaguely, she reminds him of aunt Rhaena, and there are certain hints of his sister as well. "She ran off half a dozen times again before I realised Saera wasn't content to sit idle while her brothers and their sons were prioritised over her. She wanted more from life, and she took it for herself. Many people think she's a stain on our family's reputation, but I disagree. Saera only followed in the steps of the dozens of men who came before her, who were never vilified for being too ambitious or taking what they thought was owed to them."
"My point, Jon - I named you Gaemon by the way, before that Ned Stark interfered-"
"That must be why my birth registry on Dragonstone lists Gaemon as my-"
"It's impolite to interrupt, dear. Like I was saying, you have a wilful and bright young woman on your hands. Many people talk about Targaryen madness, but few have been smart enough to notice our drive, our ambition. Daenerys has much and more to do," she says, catching his eye. "I hope you recognise that, and don't try to dampen it."
Jon bristles from the accusation, clenching his fist. "Excuse me my lady, but how dare you? Dany and I have never thought of each other as possessions, I got with her knowing who she was, and the burdens she's had to shoulder. It is not my job to belittle her, I am her partner, not her jailer."
A faint smile decorates Visenya's face, and she stands to her full height, reaching into her coat. Jon curses his tongue. "That's good to hear, Jon. Blood may call to blood, but like I told you, these marriages don't always work. Love her always, and love yourself and your children enough to know when you've both reached the end, if it comes to that. I'm not dooming your relationship, on the contrary, no union has been more anticipated in years. Your father sings of love that suffocates you, but I disagree. You should breathe, and you should want to breathe, not only for each other, but for yourself." She produces a box, and Jon is absolutely dumbfounded for a second. In his family of witches, and wargs, and dragon dreamers, he chooses to shrug it off for his own sake. With a final smile, she stands to leave, humming a tune under her breath all the while.
Jon is rooted in his spot for a minute, confused as to what had transpired. Slowly he jogs over to walk beside her, offering her his arm and a bashful smile.
***
"Fuck Lyanna, marry Larra, and kill the Hightower bitch," Daemon roars, gulping down another glass of Arbor Gold. Jon and Dany had tried to hide the good stuff from him, but he knew Summerhall and it's cellars well
Aegon the Whore takes his reply in stride, his eyes scanning over the people gathered. "Fuck Daener-"
"Don't finish that sentence," Lady Visenya warns, appearing like an apparition before them. Daemon's eyes widen, and discretely he tries to wipe the wine from his beard. "You're acting shamelessly, and embarrassing the children in front of guests. I suggest you both freshen up, and get sober."
"Yes ma'am," they reply in unison, scrambling to get away. Visenya smiles at the great grandchildren, accepting their frightened greetings and unsure smiles in stride. The backyard had been decorated beautifully, and she mentally praises Rhaella's eye for design. Lifting her skirts, she descends the deck stairs in search of Daemon. Jacaerys, her sweet boy, offers his arm, but she declines, spotting the chubby baby in Maegelle's arms.
The ladies gathered around her bow respectfully, and Visenya nods towards them in acknowledgement, kissing Maegelle on both cheeks. "You wouldn't mind if I steal him away?"
"Of course not, lady grandmother." Maegelle had always been courteous and bright, and Visenya still curses the day Jaehaerys and Alysanne sent her to Oldtown.
The boy wiggles in her hold, kicking against her stomach and for a moment she's reminded of her Maegor, that great ox of a boy she'd birthed all those years ago. "Oof, strong legs. I'm glad I didn't carry you inside of me."
When she looks up, she has to stifle a laugh at the looks of horror aimed in her direction. Egg seems half a second away from lunging towards them and ripping the boy out of her arms, and Rhaella is no better, her hands gripped tightly around her drink. Cregan Stark's hand twitches as if reaching for a weapon, and if she stands here any longer, she's almost sure Dyana will tackle her down to "save" the baby from her. "He's a baby, babies kick. No harm was done," she reassures her family, whisking the boy away and ignoring the crowd that follows.
Rhaenys stares in amusement, stretching her legs out in Viserys's lap. "Little Daemon is restoring the rights and respect us brown-haired Targaryens deserve."
"You're not a Targaryen though, last I checked you went by Velaryon," Viserys teases, elbowing Corlys in the side.
"You should speak quieter cousin, or else I might feel inclined to remind everyone of the years you spent as a Hightower bitch."
Viserys grumbles, slapping her foot. "Biggest mistake of my life."
"Don't we know it?" Daemon laughed, sauntering over to sit in Rhaenys's lap, a coffee mug filled with mead in hand despite Visenya's instruction. "We thought you were a goner for a bit there."
"Likewise," Viserys says dryly, looking out at the festivities. The Tyrell girl and her brothers were here, as well as a bear of a man clad in black. He's trying to remember the name of Daella's husband when a shout rings out, and the gathered guests all turn their heads to see the cause of the commotion.
Up on the roof, Rhaegel balanced on the tiles, baring his bits for all the world to see with a satisfied smile on his face. His mother, always efficient, picks up one of Ghost's squeaky toys, and with practised aim, pelts the man squarely in the chest. The younger family members take this as their sign to start target practice, and before anyone can stop them, someone has flung the entire fruitbowl at poor Rhaegel. He doubles over in pain, and looses his footing for a brief moment, sliding down the roof in a flash of white. A body rolls off the side of the roof, and when he hits the gutters, a loud squawk is let out and a tree full of crows take to the air.
"Brynden must be around," Daemon jokes, wincing when Rhaegel crashes into the cake table. The Stark clan seem to retreat to the opposite side, and the young children are sternly told to go play by the pools.
Maekar rushes forward to help his brother up, leading the naked and trembling man back into the house, his ass coated in red velvet cake.
Jon appears in the doorway looking horrified and goes over to inspect the damage. Matarys, armed with a broom in one of the second floor windows, dislodges a blood orange from the gutter, and with a plop! it lands on the man's head, sending a flush of red rushing up his neck.
"Oh, oh," Viserys hums, seeing him scrunch his face up in defeat. "Best go and help, Daemon."
"No thanks, he's a storm in a bottle. I don't want to get my legs broken because I spoke wrong."
"He wouldn't do that to his great-grandpa," Rhaenys teases, curling a finger in his hair. "Go be paternal."
"Fuck you both," he growls, stomping away from them and heading straight to the bar before freezing when he spots a slimy snake tucked into a corner. Daemon taps his father on the shoulder and gestures in the direction. Baelon is quick to call the Dragonknight over, who in turn gets Brynden and Alyssa.
The man doesn't see them coming, but in a second they have Aerys surrounded.
"Ah, the wife beater and gambler," Aemon growls out, leaning into the man's space.
"You still have no shame? You should ask the whore exactly what his brother did to him for disgracing Naerys," Daemon says, his fingers playing with the knife on his belt.
"We've done this dance and song before," Aerys says unhappily, his face marred by a frown. He's clean at least, Daemon thinks, noticing his short nails and neatly cut hair and beard. "You all beat me at Aegon's graduation, remember? And they say I'm the crazy one."
Daemon huffs, joining Aemon in leaning into his space. "And you'd best remember that."
"A brute warning me of my behaviour? That's laughable. Let's not forget who gets remembered for being as monstrous as Maegor."
"And who goes by the Mad King? Exactly."
Aerys rolls his eyes, elbowing his way out of the sandwich from hell. "I'm not looking for trouble, Rhaella and I have been seperated for a long time now and we've both moved on and made amends where we could. I'm only here to support my child and grandchild. If you're all so bored, you should go play Uno or something."
Baelon rests a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back by his collar. "Fine, but remember that we're watching your every move. If you so much as twitch in her direction..."
"I know, you'll beat me up." Aerys rolls his eyes again. Brynden has Dark Sister on his hip, and Aerys winces internally remembering the last time he made acquaintance with it's hilt. "You should all be checked for Alzheimer's."
"Get the fu-"
***
Jaehaerys is content to sit in the sun and enjoy the fluttering of his family around him. Alysanne had disappeared from his side, but Maegelle hadn't left her seat open for long. His daughter had always been the backbone of their family, and Jaehaerys swears she's solely responsible for the younger ones knowing their prayers.
Maegelle disagrees though, the younger ones know their prayers because Baelor spent every waking moment forcing one or the other to recite them in his home sept. While she was pious, he was a zealot.
She sighs quietly, appreciating the calm after Rhaegel's unsightly fall, humming a tune Rhaegar had played earlier. Thank god aunt Visenya had gone back inside, Maegelle's sure she would have caned the poor man then and there.
Stretching her legs out in front of her, she notes her mother has been gone for a while, after disappearing into the house with Alaric Stark during the Visenya-Rhaegel confusion. Being a septa, Maegelle knew of most of the darkest sins plaguing their family, including the regular calls her mother made to a certain hotel whenever Alaric was in town, so she just sighs again and keeps her father company, daydreaming about her own sin waiting for her in Oldtown.
***
It's midday before Jon remembers to check up on his uncle. There's a knot swelling on his head, and Jon spies more than a few bruises while he ices his uncle's injuries.
Brandon rises slowly, to the sounds of fucking and fighting, the soundtrack of his life. Barb must have called half a million times by now, but if she hasn't figured out how to contact Jon's home personally, he's still in the clear.
Rising to an elbow, he shoots Jon a grin, ruffling the boy's curls lightly. "Sorry about that, kiddo."
"It's fine," Jon says, sitting down beside his uncle. "How's your head?"
"Big as ever."
Jon cracks a smile, but then he's back to fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "You okay, kid?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, just thinking some thoughts."
"Come on now, what's the matter? Or do you want me to squeeze it out of you?"
Jon frowns and then throws his head back, groaning when the moans in the other room get louder. "There's a correlation between how much my life sucks and the number of family members I have."
"Can't be that bad."
"Oh yeah? My father and uncle want to beat the shit out of each other, I've got two ancestors fucking in the other room, both of whom are married, and not to each other-"
"Ah yes, that must be Alysanne-"
"-and I've been trying to make this day perfect and at least a little stress-free for Dany, but now she's stitching up our nudist uncle and we've barely seen each other."
Brandon pauses, unsure of how to deal with the stream of emotion Jon had released. Lyanna was good at this, and mom too, but he'd look like an ass if he just left Jon here to seek one of them out. Awkwardly, he pats his nephew's back, resting his hand at his nape. "Family gatherings are always stressful Jon, I'm not sure what you expected."
"I don't know either... I was-I just-I hoped that everyone could behave. It's an important day for me."
"Welcoming your neighbors is important to you..." Brandon trailed off, a light going on. God, Barb probably did fuck the brains out of him years ago. "I mean sure presenting the kid to the family is important, but they would love him any way."
"It's not that, uncle," Jon groans, glaring at the wall they shared with the couple next door. "I want to ask Dany to marry me. Today. Now. Later. I don't know!"
"Woah, kid," Brandon cautioned, pulling him away from the edge of the bed. "You want to ask the girl of your dreams to marry you in front of all these people? Have you considered if that's what she wants?"
"What?"
"I mean, I know Barb always wanted the big white wedding and public proposal, but does your Dany?"
"I mean, I didn't think about that, I just know she missed everyone, so I thought this was a good time..."
"Kid, you need to be smart about this. Women, their minds are constantly working. You buy a necklace, and she wonders why you didn't get the earrings to match, clean the room and she wants to know why you think that's going to make her forgive you for fucking her friend-"
"Okay-"
"My point is, you propose to her in front of the family, and what will she think? No spice, no candles, no fancy restaurant, but a dirty backyard destroyed by your nudist uncle while you're wearing 'formal' shorts. Does that sound like effort to you?"
"I mean- wow, I should get changed right?"
"You should, and comb your hair too."
"Do you think I should still propose? I don't want her thinking I'm half-assing it."
"Are her nails done? Is she comfortable? She had a baby six months ago, how's her body image? Everyone's going to be taking pictures, and getting bad angles, and next thing you know you have a broken engagement and a broken family."
"Wow, that's... a tad dramatic. But you're right, I have been wrapped in my own mind. How do you think of all this, uncle B?"
"Decades with Barbrey will do that to you. She always tells me about what she wants in an engagement."
"And you don't think that she's maybe giving you hints as to what she wants a proposal from you to look like?"
"Oh, I know she's hinting. Jon, one thing you need to learn is that women love a big dick dumbass."
"Okay, this is my cue-"
"She can nag and moan all she wants, but I know she's not going anywhere. Barb has a taste for toxic men, and that's all I am, a no strings attached fuckboy who will kiss her on the mouth after cumming down her throat."
"Okay, thanks, bye!"
***
From where he stood with his wife on his arm, and his best friend getting smashed by his side, Ned has been able to gather a few facts about the day.
One, the boy he helped raise has grown into a handsome man with his priorities all in order. When the nudist had broken the table, Jon had come out to clean up and fix it himself, and when his little one had made a mess of himself, the raven haired bo- no, man had been the one to change him. He supported his wife and took care of his child, just like Ned had taught him. Two, Robert was maybe about six cups in by now, and if Ned didn't cut him off, he might just be the first to shed blood on Jon's beautifully-managed lawn. Three, the drink the pretty witch had given him was definitely spiked, and Ned still can't tell if it was poison or drugs. Four, Brandon was missing, but he was probably off fucking some poor girl into a wall. Five, Gendry looked about ready to cry with Neddie running around and causing rampage everywhere he stomped. So far Ned's counted that he's broken four differnet glasses, pushed both Viserys Targaryen and grandma Melanthe into the pool, ran Daemon Jr over with a toy Ferrari, all while running back to Rhaelle Targaryen's arms like he belonged there. Which, he basically did considering she was his great-great-great-grandmother, and finally, a majority of the people here hated Robert's guts.
All in all, the day was a mess, and the nudist was the least of it. Targaryens seemed to have no shame, openly groping at each other, while others tried to slit each other's throats. In broad daylight!
His father seemed pleased to be mingling along with them though, speaking animatedly with his great aunt Betha, and happily playing with Daemon and Neddie when given the chance.
Ned spys Neddie again, leading Aliandra Targaryen to the sandbox beneath the kitchen window. They both waddle heavily, but get there in record time, plopping down beside each other and babbling silly baby talk while feeding each other sand.
Half their company had broken out into High Valyrian when Ned and his family had arrived, but he had paid them no mind, stealing one of Euron Greyjoy's brownies off his plate. Seriously though, who invited him, and more importantly, who did this lawn? Ned would have to ask Jon later.
***
Arya Flint stared coldly at the people around her, frowning at her grandchildren. She would have stayed on her mountain had Jon and his pretty girl not brought the baby to see her all those months ago. Secretly, she had washed him in the pool by her weirwood, and rubbed oil and protective spells into his pale skin. The boy was strong and healthy, with the Stark look at first glance, but the more she stared into his little face, the more she realised his eyes were a dark violet, and his little nose had his mother's shape.
Daemon was a poor name for a Northerner, but so was Jon and Robb, and that oaf Ned had named those boys that anyway. Arya tutted again unhappily, whistling to get the closet non-blonde's attention. A head turns, some lanky ginger with blue eyes, and she's satisfied to see her great-grandson. "Dickon, come here."
"It's Rickon grandmother," the boy grumbles, but comes all the same.
"Whatever it is, help me up. If I see that Tyrell girl's tits one more time, I might take my own out to shame her."
"Grandmother, you can't!"
She smacks him upside the head, pulling her shawl tighter around her. "Will you stop me?"
"I-I-"
"All men do is blubber and complain about the triumphs of better men. Hush, and get me a glass of wine."
***
"Are you aware your daughter is eating sand?"
"Yes."
"Aren't you going to stop her?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"It helps build her immune system. She's fine."
Aegon splutters, staring pointedly at the three year olds shovelling sand into their mouthes. "Do you know how many germs could be in that sand? What if she gets sick?"
"We have a good pediatrician." Rhaenys rolls her eyes, sharing a look with Viserys. "Vis, why don't you and Aegon help Grandpa Egg clean up the yard a bit? Dany said the main course will be out soon, and we don't want people tripping over things now do we?"
"Why would-oh, yeah sure. Come on, nephew." Viserys tugs him up by the arm, ignoring the man's protesting.
Rhaenys sighs in relief, sinking further into her lounge chair. She's considering getting highlights and blaming the sun for them when Arianne sinks down beside her, Margaery and Sansa following closely. "Have you heard about Dany?"
Rhaenys rolls her eyes, sitting up properly. "Sheesh, gossip travels fast."
"Oh please, if he didn't want anyone to know, he should have kept it to himself."
"Well, she has been keeping it to herself, she hasn't even told Jon."
Arianne quirks an eyebrow, fully facing her cousin. "What are you talking about?"
"Exactly what I just said, she hasn't told Jon yet."
"Told Jon what?"
"That she's pregnant, genius."
"Dany's pregn-" Rhaenys claps a hand over her cousin's mouth, smiling politely at the people closest to them.
"Why are you so loud? Gods, Arianne."
"Maybe because I didn't know she was pregnant!"
Rhaenys pauses, drawing back. "Then what were you talking about..."
"Jon proposing, genius."
"Why would you present it as news about Dany then?"
"Because it is news about her."
"Girls, no need to spiral about this," Margaery interjects, taking a glass of champagne from a nearby table. "Two good things are better than one."
"That is true," Sansa agrees, following Margaery's lead. "Perhaps she'll share share the news after he proposes."
"You think she'll say no?"
"Arianne!"
"What? She's been divorced twice already, I doubt she'd want another marriage."
"You're just jealous no one wants to put a ring on your finger," Rhaenys snarks.
"Pot meet kettle?"
"I'm the one keeping Viserys waiting, don't get it twisted."
"Speaking of divorce, how's your aunt, Margaery?" Sansa asks, steering the conversation into safe terrority.
"Lynesse is great, pretty sure she's living with some prince, or sealord or the other."
"That's a woman I aspire to be," Arianne gushes, sipping her wine. "Making a man launder money just to keep up with your needs and then leaving his ass for a richer man is a power move like no other."
"You act like Daenerys number two doesn't exist. Got dick from her bastard brother and possibly started a war of succcession, then tooted off to Sunspear and had her husband build her a palace to help her acclimate to the heat," Rhaenys argues.
"It's Saera and Shiera you girls should admire, and even sweet Jenny. If the gods bless you with beauty, there's nothing wrong with using it. Men are silly things who think with their small heads." Serenei drifts in, sitting down gracefully beside Rhaenys.
"Lady Serenei, your tongue."
Serenei winks. "My best feature, I know."
***
"Okay, so black slacks and white shirt. Yes or no?"
Robb rolled his eyes, leaning back into the pillows cushioning his head. "Jon, don't overdo it, semi-formal means suit without the shirt." He gestures to himself, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Do you ever turn the heat up in here?"
"I'm used to the cold and Dany runs hot, so we don't mind," Jon replies, distracted by a wine red silk shirt he spies in the back of his closet. "This?"
"I'm the worst person to ask for fashion advice," Robb reminds his cousin, chuckling lowly. "We can get Marg if it really matters, or maybe even Arya or your mom?"
Jon huffs from inside his closet, and Robb hears shuffling. "We don't need the girls."
"Okay, but don't blame me if I put you in skinnies."
"I wouldn't let you." Jon comes out of the closet, a disarming grin on his face. "What do you think?"
"You look happy, little bro."
Jon rolls his eyes, throwing his slipper at Robb. "I mean my attire, dumbass."
"That's fine too, but you'll need to put on slacks with that shirt." Jon groans, heading back to rummage out ironed slacks. "I mean it about you looking happy. You deserve it."
"And so do you, now stop being sappy."
"I won't, especially since you're so in love."
"And what of it?" Jon looks a little sheepish, ducking his head in embarrassment. "Dany is the love of my life."
"I know that, does she?"
"I hope she does, and if not, I'll show her today," Jon vowed intensely.
Robb pauses, before throwing Jon with a pillow. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"
"I might be."
"Should I get a tux ready to be your Best Man?"
"You'd have to fight Aegon and Sam for the honour, maybe even Arya too."
"Please, it's me. I know it is." Robb chuckles, getting up to envelope his cousin in a hug. "I'm so happy for you. Let me see the ring?"
Jon pulls away, and hesitantly presents him with a leather box. Handing it over, he chews on the inside of his cheek. "What do you think?"
"Nice box, it's a nice change from the usual velvet."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but the ring?"
Robb opened the box slowly, peeking in playfully. Jon hits him in the side, causing his cousin to laugh, and the next thing either of them know, the box is flying out of the window, landing the gardens below.
"Shit," they say in unison.
***
"Daeron is such an unfortunate name. Look at Viserys's and Egg's Daerons. Even Maekars went tragically."
"Yes, but both Daeron's who held the reigns did so beautifully," Visenya insists, patting the baby in her lap's back.
"Well neither of those are nothern names, and Jon is of the North."
"Living in the Dornish marches as he is? Stop joking mother," Lyarra chides, dipping a finger in her wine and feeding it to the baby. Daemon munches eagerly, tugging on her hand.
"It doesn't matter where he lives, Jon died for the North. Nothing can water his blood down, not even a Targaryen father."
"Better a Targaryen father than a Baratheon."
"I married a Baratheon," Rhaelle says wryly, winking at Duncan as he passes by them with a queer look on his face. "My son is a Baratheon as well."
"More's the pity," Rhaena complains. "Egg has always been too generous."
"He was one of the good ones at least, though I don't know why you would have him marry an Estermont," Argella complained. "Disloyal, the whole lot of them, and marrying Stannis to that Florent! I'd rather they all swallow swords."
"I forget that you'll have a Tyrell under your roof soon," Visenya says coolly, not wanting to offend any of their company further. She pins Lyarra with a stern look when she tries to stick another wine-drenched finger in Daemon's mouth.
"It's good for him," she promises. "Builds the immune system.
"As long as Renly keeps those flowers to himself, I don't care."
"And Lyarra is gaining a Tyrell as well. It must be interesting having children marry outside of the family, it happens so rarely for us."
"Better incest than your line dying out, look at the poor Arryns," Rhaenyra remarks, cooling herself with an electric handheld fan. "I'm part Arryn myself, and it hurts to see what the family has come to. Rhaegel married Lady Jeyne all those years ago, and now all they're left with is Jon and his poor sickly boy and crazy wife."
"It's unfair to call her crazy, the woman's just grieving."
"Who? Jon Arryn? He's still alive, a walking corpse maybe, but alive nonetheless."
"Oh hush, Rhaenyra. I hear their father's suffering from cancer. It's a hard time for any family." Visenya bounces Daemon on her knee, the boy giggling joyously and reaching for a candied plum.
"When Hoster dies, Brynden will be one of the last competent Tullys left, and he's not interested in a title or having sprouts of his own. Must have seen how his brother's turned out and got scared." Rhaenyra pauses briefly to regard the looks of the ladies around her. "What? People go on about our family and the supposed mental illnesses we have, so it's only fair to judge you all as well. Besides, no one can or will beat my ass about it."
***
"So he's just crying because Aliandra's crying?" Joff asks, staring at Daemon in confusion. "What kind of logic is that? Come on little guy, work with us."
Jace laughs at his brother's failed attempt to calm the babies down, picking little Aliandra up and wiping away the sand sticking to her cheeks. "You have no way with children or women little brother."
Luke helps their brother readjust Daemon to where he can comfortably bounce him, shoving a dragon-themed binky into his mouth. The baby stares at them through big tearful eyes, but grabs onto Joff's brooche when it catches his eye, gumming the three headed dragon. "At least they're calm now, I don't know how their parents sleep at night."
Jace shrugs, fondly reminded of the years he had spent shaking rattles and shoving binkies in his younger brothers' mouthes. "They probably don't, or maybe they just make use of some really good earmuffs."
"That would make sense," his youngest brother agrees, swinging from side to side with Ned Steelwaters in his arms. "Were we this cute?"
"Cuter," Jace says, pinching Aegon's cheek. His brother had grown to be a silent recluse over the years, but never failed to laugh when surrounded by his siblings.
"Father's in timeout, aunt Rhaena took his phone because he was showing Grandad porn."
"That man hasn't grown an ounce of shame, even in his old age."
"You say old age, he says golden years. We should probably seperate him and Aegon before they get loud about their hobbies," Jace suggests, glancing over to where the two of them were sitting.
There's a hum of agreement and Baela passes by, stopping to kiss Aegon's cheeks. Their little brother pulls a face, but no one can miss the splash of red dusting his cheeks.
***
"Shameless aren't they?" Cregan huffs, an arm wrapped around Aly's waist.
"Are they? This is the norm whenever we're at events with them, so I've just accepted it to be who they are."
"But to speak so loudly about defiling his cousins, that's just crossing a line."
"Oh hush, you prude. We've seen beddings more scandalous. Don't tell me you've turned into an old maid, Cregan," Alysanne teases, smiling up at him with mirth in her eyes. "I'd hoped I'd loosened you up more."
"I forget that you're a southerner."
Alysanne gasps dramatically, tugging on his beard. "You insult me, my lord."
"Let me make up for it then, my love."
***
"Rhaella, you've been smiling like the cat that got the cream," Naerys notes, running her fingers through Daenerys's hair.
"Yeah, what's that about?" the Martell consort asks. "What warm body is making you so happy?"
"Stop joking like that," Rhaella shushes, the smile never leaving her face. "It's nothing really, I'm just happy to have everyone together again. It's been so long," Rhaella says wistfully, the smile never leaving her face.
"That can't be it, last time everyone got together, you were the loudest about never having another family gathering," Rhaena says suspiciously, waving off the women fluttering around her.
"Only because you stabbed Steffon at supper!"
"To be fair, I wasn't even aiming for him. All Baratheons just look alike, especially with the beard." The women nod in agreement, pointing out the build and colouring of Baratheons.
"Just look at Robert and Orys, they're the same person. And Lyonel too."
"Lyonel is a bit smaller I think, but Renly and Robert definitely look alike. They're like Tullys, just look at Ned's oldest and that Edwin boy."
"Edmure, Mariah," Daenerys corrects, watching the families mingling outside.
"That's worse than Elmo."
"Rhaenyra!" Rhaella laughs, setting her drink aside.
"Gods, now imagine what people must think of our names."
"They can't say anything because we're Valyrians, now Jon on the other hand..."
"Sometimes I forget that's his name, I've been calling him Rhaegar II in my mind for so long," Betha admits, lightheaded from the champagne.
"I keep thinking he's Baelor."
"Pretty sure you've mixed up Rhaegar's Rhaenys with Mariah too, Rhaena."
"Well let's not mix up Rhaella's smile then, tell us, what you're up to."
"Nothing! Can't I just be happy to be around family?"
"You and your secrets aren't any fun, someone get Rhaegar so that we can at least have some music to distract us."
"He's probably crying into a pillow by now, you know how he gets when we're here," Dyana reminds them, signalling one of the maids to bring them another round of champagne. "What a sensitive boy he is."
"That's just a facade to trick people," Rhaena takes a bite from a tart. "You know the deeply emotional musician with a bleeding heart still sells."
"He's got two wives, so maybe Rhaella should try it out." Maegelle cackles, high fiving Rhaena.
Unable to suppress her smile, Rhaella tosses a pillow at her great aunt's head.
***
"So it definitely fell here?"
"Obviously! We both saw it!"
"Calm down, Jon, geez. We'll find it."
"No we won't. Here's the box, so where's the ring? Gods Robb, what am I going to do?"
"We'll figure it out. You get some of the others to help, and I'll keep looking."
Jon sprints off, sweat gathering on his brow. He sees his parents sneaking off, and in his distraction almost runs headfirst into Egg, the older man catching him by the arms to steady him. "Everything okay?"
"No!" Jon cries, tears filling his eyes rapidly. Gods this was going terribly. "I kost the ring!"
"You lost the- Wait!" Egg manhadles him into the bathroom, locking them in. "You lost the ring?!"
"Yes! What am I going to do?"
"It's not the end of the world, Jon. Compose yourself, and we'll deal with it."
"Okay, okay," Jon says, breathing through his anxiety, something he'd learned in one of Dany's lamaze classes. "If we can't find the ring-"
"Then it will be okay. You can make another, but for now, let me show you something." Jon follows Egg miserably, averting his eyes. "Where did you put the gift Visenya gave you?"
***
Jon lays the box between them on the bed. With his grandfather's encouragement, he traces the outside first, a three-headed dragon roaring proudly, and their house words adorned below. Inside, he finds the ruby crown of Aegon the Dragon, on a velvet pillow. "Grandfather, this is-"
"An honour, we know, but not what you need. Check the bottom."
Confused though he is, he lifts the crown out, handing it to Egg. Jon feels the bottom, finding a string lining the inside. Ever-carefully, he grabs a hold of it and gives a hard tug. The bottom lifts, and inside the secret compartment Jon finds two rings. "Is this?"
"Yes, it was the first Aegon's, and that was his Rhaenys's. Visenya and I thought it appropriate that you inherit something other than a home in the south. Use this to propose to Dany until we find your ring.
"Grandfather I can't thank you enough." Jon crushes Egg in a hug, the older man holding Aegon's crown out of harm's way.
"No need to thank me, let's get you engaged."
***
"No Sam, I don't know where Jon is, perhaps you should ask someone else?" she repeats for the upteenth time, chugging down the first non-alcoholic drink she can find. She scrunches her nose at the bubbly, snacking on a lemon cake to get the taste out of her mouth.
To be honest, she's a little pissed. Jon had wanted this pseudo-family reunion, but was nowhere to be found, and now she was left entertaining their guests. So far she'd had to stop three couples from ruining each other's marriages, and even more from full-out brawling. Honestly, who knew so many of them played with sorcery?
Her stomach churns again, and Dany has to stop herself from resting a hand on it. What was good about being six months post-partum, no one would notice the new bump beginning to form.
In a spectacle, Jon appears at the door, shouting her name as if he sensed she was thinking of him. "Dany, stay right there!" He stumbles his way over to her, shoving Targaryens and Starks and Blackfyres out of the way to reach her. By the time he grabs a hold of her, a crowd of amused spectators have begun to form.
"Jon, what's gotten into you?" Dany asks, running a hand through his hair. "Are you sick?"
"No, I-no! Dany, I love you so much." Jon has unshed tears in his eyes, and a hunger she says often in the bedroom.
She smiles softly, kissing him sweetly despite the crowd watching them. "I know, and I love you."
"Gods, you've made me so happy, so," Jon pauses, scrambling for the words, "full of life. There's no one else I would rather spend my life with."
"I would say the same." Dany chokes back her tears, grabbing a fistful of Jon's hair. Stupid hormones. "But probably not in front of family."
"I hope you can forgive me for this then," Jon says, looking back at Egg. The man nods, and Jon turns back to her, steeling his spine. "Gods and men and whole continents couldn't seperate us, we found each other when we shouldn't have, loved each other through the worst of times. Danaerys Stormborn, mother of fucking dragons and queen of my heart, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" Jon asks, sinking down to one knee and presenting her with a beatiful gold ring. A ruby sat at it's centre, and amethysts decorated the band. Gasps and a series of 'Awws' resound, and Dany distantly notices flashes going off.
"Only if you'll take my name," she jokes, pulling him up tearfully and crashing their lips together. An applause sounds around them, but they're too lost in each other, Jon's hands coming up to frame her face. "Of course, yes, yes."
Roughly, Jon is pulled away from her, his cheeks flushed and eyes red. They both grin stupidly, and Dany feels someone wipe her mouth and pull her into a hug. When she feels a tug at her shirt, she reaches tearfully for Daemon, nuzzling her boy.
"Put on the ring, let's see it then!" Elia says, drawing back from Jon and dragging him over to Dany. Jon slips the ring on her finger shakily, kissing the tips of her finger's when he's done.
"Oh Dany, it's gorgeous," Rhaella says, squeezing her hip. Rhaenyra shoulders through the crowd, drawing her into a hug. "Congratulations my sweet, may this be your best marriage."
A deep-belly chuckle tears out of her, and Dany has to compose herself when Daemon moans unhappily against her chest. "I'm sure it will be."
Some time later, when the congratulations have died down, they're laying together on a pool chair, Daemon tucked between them and their dogs scattered across the lawn. Mostly everyone has delved into stories of their own betrothals - broken or secret.
"We have some other good news," Dany tells him, speaking louder to be heard over Rhaegar's singing. Their family is engrossed in the iron tones of his voice, and the sweet contrast of his harp.
"Oh?" Jon asks, tucking her closer to his side. "And what would that be?"
"Your Aemon, or maybe the little Lyarra you've been wishing for."
Jon bites the inside of his cheek, placing his hand on her belly protectively. "You're sure?"
"Just got checked last week. Four and a half months in and they've already got a huge head," Dany jokes, covering his hand with her own. "I've been dropping hints for weeks, I even put the ultrasound picture on your pillow and found it on the fridge the next morning!"
"I thought it was Daemon's, and that you were just hinting that you wanted to have baby-making sex."
Dany throws her head back in laughter, jostling Daemon with the movement. "If I wanted to have baby-making sex, I would've sat on your face."
"I hope you feel like sitting on it la-"
"I found it! Jon, I found it! That stupid raccoon in the yard had it, and I probably got rabies wrestling it from his dirty little paws, but I got it!" Robb claims, a crazed look in his eyes.
"Robb, I'm sorry. I completely forgot you were outside."
"It's okay, because I found it, here," Robb breathes out, placing the ring in Jon's palm. "Go ahead bro, you've got this."
"He's already asked, you dummy." Arya smacks him upside his head with a roll of her eyes. "Go take a shower, Robb."
"Yes, come, love," Margaery urges, placating his many "but I found it's".
"Uh, Robb?" Jon calls before they reach the door. "This isn't my ring..."