Words for Family

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/42503127.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M, Gen
Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Relationship: Daemon Targaryen & Jacaerys Velaryon, Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra
Targaryen
Character: Jacaerys Velaryon, Daemon Targaryen
Additional Tags: Family Feels, Light Angst, Soft Daemon Targaryen, References to Fire
& Blood, show-centric, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Collections: Anonymous
Stats: Published: 2022-10-20 Words: 1650

Words for Family

by Anonymous

Summary

After the birth of Aegon, Jace contemplates what it means to be a half-brother and asks
Daemon a question.

Notes

See the end of the work for notes

Dragonstone was quiet in the mornings.

Soon the yard would be full of the clang of steel and thump of wood, as Luke faced off against
young Aedric Celtigar, who had come with his father to petition Mother for something or other,
and Prince Daemon led Dragonstone’s garrison through their paces. Daemon had been here more
than a year, now, but he still sometimes looked askance at the fighting men Jace’s father had
brought on to bolster their defenses when they’d first returned to Dragonstone. What was good
enough for Laenor Velaryon was not always good enough for Daemon Targaryen, Jace had
learned.

He’d wanted to be angry about it. Wanted to rage that Daemon could not step in and take the role
Laenor had in the keep, in the yard, at his mother’s side. But it was hard stay angry when his
mother looked so happy, and hard to be angry at all when such emotions were met with
understanding and even patience. The stories Laenor had told of Daemon in the Stepstones—only
spoken of when Mother was not around, which Jace had thought was because they were too violent
and Mother would object, though clearly that was not the reason—had not spoken of a patient man.
He was so with the children.
Hard too to rage at the replacement of a father when it seemed to be Jace’s lot in life, to gain
fathers and lose them.

Jace would have to join the others in the yard soon, but he’d woken early to come see the baby.

This was the third morning he’d come to visit alone. He came with the rest of his siblings before
dinner most nights. Rhaena liked to sing to Aegon, and Luke was ever trying to scoop him up and
take him on an adventure, just as he had with Joff when he’d been this little. Baela found the baby
boring and said so loudly, even while petting the tufts of his silvery hair.

Jace touched the tips of his fingers to Aegon’s soft head. His hair was fine and pale, but there was a
lot of it, more than Joff had at this age.

But Joff’s had been more noticeable, of course. Since it was so dark.

“You’re up early,” Prince Daemon said. Jace had not noticed his arrival. He snatched his hand
from the baby’s hair as quick as Luke had pulled his hand from Joff’s dragon egg. He almost felt
his fingers burn.

“A new morning ritual?” Daemon continued.

How did he know Jace had snuck in here before? Perhaps he knew everything, Jace worried, a
sinking feeling in his stomach, even the thoughts in his head.

“I just came to see my little brother.”

Daemon nodded, walking closer. He peered into the cradle, his face as soft as Jace had ever seen it.
As though he had been waiting for his father to appear, Aegon opened his eyes. Daemon laid a
gentle hand on the baby’s belly.

“I had a little brother once,” Daemon said, not looking at Jace. “He died in the cradle. I can almost
remember his face. His name was Aegon too.”

“This Aegon won’t die in the cradle,” Jace swore.

“No, he won’t.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Jace continued, “just the same as I do Luke and Joff. I’ll protect him. I
promise.”

Daemon’s hand brushed over Aegon’s silvery hair as though he really did know the thoughts in
Jace’s head. “I know you will. You are his brother.”

“Half,” Jace said, and the word felt like a curse. “Half-brother.”

Jace had grown up alongside his uncles, after all, and watched the looks the Hightowers gave his
mother. And the looks she gave back. The queen had hated it when her boys spent time with Jace
and Luke, but Aegon had been fun, at times. “My half-nephews,” he would sometimes call them,
and then the half hadn’t seemed so bad. But then came the fight in the yard, and after that
Driftmark, and Jace understood now that to be a half meant being an enemy. He would never be
that to this Aegon.

“There is no word in Valyrian for half-brother.” Jace looked up at Daemon. He was looking at Jace
now, eyes keen and cool. “In a family, there is no room for fractions.”
“You hate the queen and her children, yet they are your kin too.”

Daemon nodded. “They are kin, my brother’s own blood, but they are no family of mine. They’re
Hightowers, not Targaryens.”

If he thought such things about Jace’s uncles, with their Valyrian features, their Targaryen
names… Jace bore the name Velaryon and the blood of the Strongs, and he thought again about
Laenor’s fighting men. What was good enough for Laenor Velaryon was not always good enough
for Daemon Targaryen.

“If I ask you something, you will tell me the truth.”

It was not a question. Daemon had never lied to them, not when Luke asked if he had the makings
of a great swordsman (“You must unlearn what Cole’s indifference taught you before either of us
can know that”) or when Baela asked why Daemon and Mother had missed her favorite breakfast,
batter bread with milk and honey (“I was supping on a different sort of honey,” which had earned
him a glare from Mother).

Daemon knew it was no question. He stayed silent, waiting for Jace to ask it.

Jace was not sure he wanted to. But to be a king required bravery, not only on a battlefield but in
ones thoughts. Were he to be king, he could not shy away.

“Would it be better if Aegon were my mother’s heir?”

Aegon, with his silver hair. Aegon, with his Targaryen father, indisputably trueborn. Aegon, with
his conqueror’s name.

“Aegon is a fourth-born son. You are your mother’s heir.”

“That was not my question.”

Daemon acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. “Have you spoken of this to your mother?”

“She says that I am a Targaryen, and that is all that matters.”

“Just so,” Daemon said, something self-satisfied in his expression.

“But I don’t look like—“

He cut him off with a raised hand. “Do you know why your mother married me?”

It was plain as can be that they had married for love, but he did not think that was the answer
Daemon wanted him to give. “To bolster her claim against the Greens.”

“It is a war she has been waging since before you were born. Listen well, Jacaerys: it does not
matter what you look like.”

He said it confidently, but Jace wanted to argue. How could it not matter? He held his tongue on
his argument, because Daemon was not finished. He wielded words as well as he wielded Dark
Sister, and his silence was sometimes a trap.

Daemon’s lips curled up. Jace thought it might be pride. Then he continued. “Your eyes could be
the purple of amethysts and your hair the color of beaten silver, and they would still try to block
your mother’s rise. If Aegon were her only son, they would say they could not allow a child of my
blood to take the throne after her. Were she childless, they would claim fear at the succession
 beyond her. Were Laenor your father by blood as well as name, they would claim you shared his…
appetites and were unfit for the throne. It is but an excuse for Otto Hightower to grasp the thing he
wants.”

Jace had never thought about that. Since the day he’d realized the rumors were true, all he’d seen
of himself were the parts that were not good enough. He was a dragonrider and a prince, and it
made no difference, because his hair was dark and his blood was Strong. He’d seen himself his
mother’s ruin, but perhaps it wasn’t that way at all.

“It does not matter what they say,” Jace said quietly. “I am a Targaryen.”

“There’s something else you want to ask,” Daemon said. “Go on.”

Jace steeled himself. “Would you rather Aegon were her heir?”

Daemon’s eyes drifted back down to his son, but Jace did not look away from his stepfather’s face.
He seemed to be considering his answer, but Jace could not believe he didn’t already know it.

Finally he spoke. “I want House Targaryen returned to its proper glory. For pirates to fear, for my
grandmother’s fountains to spurt sweet water even in Flea Bottom, for lords to know vipers and
rats can do no harm to dragons. That will take strength.” His lips twisted up. “Are you strong,
Jace?”

Despite the smirk, Jace didn’t think he was mocking him. He tilted his head up, met Daemon’s
gaze head on. “I am.”

“Then things are as they should be.” He shrugged a slim shoulder. “And if I want so badly for
mine own blood to sit the Iron Throne, well, there’s another way of doing that. You’ll need a
queen, after all.”

That startled a laugh from him. “Don’t tell my mother, but I think Baela might be an even more
fearsome queen than she will be.”

“Don’t underestimate your mother. She once stopped me from killing Otto Hightower. That is a
feat only one could accomplish.” Daemon clapped him on the shoulder. “We should go. Luke
won’t easily forgive us if we miss his bout with the Celtigar boy.”

Jace gave a last look to Aegon, who was staring up at them with his bright eyes. “Geros ilas,
valonqar.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss against the baby’s silver head.

Daemon started toward the door. “Mazis, nuha darilaros.”

“What would I call you in Valyrian?” Jace asked as they left the room. “How do you say
stepfather?”

“There’s no word for stepfather.” He emphasized the “step”, just a touch. Jace smiled and followed
him down to the yard.

End Notes

Is there a word in Valyrian for "step-brother" and "half-brother"? I don't think there is, but
 if I'm wrong, please let me know! There are some interesting omissions on the Valyrian
kinship diagram on the wiki, and it makes sense to me that a society so concerned with
blood purity and such intermingled blood lines might not have words for "step" or "half"
family members.

Valyrian translations:

Geros ilas, valonqar: goodbye, little brother

Mazis, nuha darilarios: come, my prince

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