#Olenna would wear this

[pyat-pree]

Costume template by Leon Bakst

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (part 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word count: 3.4k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: A Tyrell woman, bored and frustrated in King's Landing, unexpectedly falls for Tywin Lannister as their teasing evolves into a secret and deepening relationship

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Being in King’s Landing was nothing like being at Highgarden. At home, the air was scented with roses, and the fields stretched as far as the eye could see. There was always something to do, someone to see, or some mischievous game to engage in with my siblings. But here, in the capital, I felt as though the walls of the Red Keep were closing in on me, stifling my spirit and curbing my freedom.

Margaery, of course, seemed to flourish in this gilded cage. My younger sister was ever the perfect lady, effortlessly charming and graceful, as if she were born to wear the crown she was soon to inherit. But I could see what others could not—how carefully she measured every smile, every glance, every word. She was playing a dangerous game, and while I respected her for it, I had no taste for it myself. I craved the sun on my face, the earth beneath my feet, the wild freedom of Highgarden. But in King’s Landing, there was none of that.

The days passed slowly, each one bleeding into the next with nothing to distinguish it. I tried to fill the hours with walks in the gardens, but even they paled in comparison to the ones at home. I would spend afternoons in the library, but the tomes held little interest when my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of home. I dined with the court, attended the various events Margaery was obligated to attend, but all the while I felt like an outsider. The courtiers were insipid, the knights pompous, and the noble ladies shallow. I was bored out of my mind.

Then, one evening, I found my distraction.

We were dining with the Lannisters, Margaery’s soon-to-be family. The atmosphere was tense, as it often was when the Tyrells and Lannisters gathered. My grandmother, Olenna, was sharp-tongued and unrelenting, and I loved her for it. She took every opportunity to poke at the lions, her remarks as barbed as any sword. Margaery, as usual, played the innocent, delicate flower, but I knew better. She was a Tyrell through and through.

And then there was Tywin Lannister.

The Lord of Casterly Rock was an imposing figure, his presence commanding the room. His icy gaze swept over everyone as though they were mere pawns on his chessboard. He was the most formidable man I had ever met, and I disliked him immediately.

I also found myself strangely fascinated by him.

As the dinner progressed, I found myself watching him, studying the way he interacted with his family and ours. He was as cold and calculating as I had expected, but there was something else there, something beneath the surface. He was a man who had built his house into the most powerful in the realm, who had orchestrated the rise of his children to positions of unimaginable power. And yet, I sensed a weariness in him, a tiredness that came from shouldering the weight of the world for far too long.

I decided to entertain myself by irritating him. It wasn’t difficult—he was so rigid, so controlled, that any small breach in protocol seemed to annoy him. I began with little things: interrupting him while he was speaking, contradicting his opinions with the sweetest smile, deliberately misunderstanding his intentions. To my delight, I noticed his jaw tightening, the only outward sign of his irritation.

After dinner, as the men gathered for their usual discussions and the women for their gossip, I found myself seeking him out. He was standing by one of the windows, looking out over the city, no doubt lost in thought about whatever grand scheme he was concocting. I approached quietly, standing beside him and mimicking his stance.

"A fine view," I remarked, though in truth, I found the city ugly compared to the sprawling beauty of Highgarden.

"Indeed," Tywin replied, his voice clipped. "One can see much from here."

"Including the dangers?" I asked, turning my head to look at him. He glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

"Especially the dangers," he said.

"How exhausting," I sighed dramatically. "To always be on the lookout for treachery and deceit. How do you manage it, Lord Tywin?"

"It is a necessary burden," he said, turning his gaze back to the city. "One that I bear gladly for the sake of my family and the realm."

"A noble sentiment," I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Though I wonder if it leaves any room for joy."

He looked at me then, truly looked at me, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Joy is a luxury," he said. "One that few can afford."

"And what about you, my lord? Can you afford it?"

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I knew I had hit a nerve. He didn’t answer, and I didn’t press him. Instead, I gave him a sweet smile and curtsied slightly.

"Well, if ever you find yourself in need of a distraction, you know where to find me," I said, before turning and walking away, leaving him to his thoughts.

Over the next few weeks, I made it my mission to annoy Tywin Lannister at every opportunity. Whether it was at dinners, during court sessions, or in passing conversations, I would always find some way to needle him. A careless remark here, a sly comment there, all designed to get under his skin. To his credit, he rarely showed his irritation in public, but I could see it in the way his eyes would narrow slightly, or how he would clench his jaw.

It became the highlight of my days, this little game of ours. It made King’s Landing bearable. And, truth be told, I started to look forward to our encounters. He was the only one in the capital who challenged me, who didn’t treat me like a delicate flower to be admired from afar. He was formidable, and I enjoyed matching wits with him, even if he didn’t realize that was what we were doing.

My family, of course, noticed.

"My dear, you seem to spend quite a lot of time in Lord Tywin’s company," Margaery said one afternoon as we walked in the gardens.

"Oh, I just find him... fascinating," I replied, feigning innocence. "Don’t you?"

Margaery laughed, a light, melodic sound that masked her sharpness. "I find him intimidating. But then, I’m not as brave as you."

"Brave? Hardly," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "I just like to poke at him. It’s like trying to ruffle the feathers of a stone statue."

"You do more than poke, dear," my grandmother Olenna chimed in as she joined us. "I think the old lion has taken quite a shine to you."

I rolled my eyes. "Nonsense. He barely tolerates me."

"Men like Tywin Lannister don’t tolerate anything they don’t want," Olenna said with a knowing look. "And I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."

I felt a blush creep up my neck. "He’s an old man, and I’m merely a distraction."

"Sometimes, distractions can become more," Margaery said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Perhaps he sees something in you that you don’t see in yourself."

I didn’t dignify that with a response, though I couldn’t help but wonder if they were right. Was there something more to this game I had been playing with Tywin? Did he see me as more than just an annoyance?

The next time I encountered Tywin was at another of the many dinners we attended. This time, I decided to push him a little further.

"Lord Tywin," I said sweetly as I sat beside him, "do you ever tire of these endless dinners and formalities? I imagine they must be dreadfully boring for a man of your... stature."

He looked at me, his gaze cool. "Boredom is a luxury I cannot afford."

"Ah, yes. Always the dutiful servant of the realm," I said with a mock sigh. "It must be so exhausting, always being the one in control, the one who must bear the weight of the world."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you pity me, Lady Tyrell?"

"Pity? No, my lord. I admire you," I said, and for once, I wasn’t being entirely sarcastic. "You’re a man who knows what he wants and takes it. There’s something... refreshing about that."

He studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether I was mocking him or not. Then, to my surprise, he smiled. It was a small smile, barely more than a quirk of his lips, but it was there.

"And what is it that you want, Lady Tyrell?" he asked, his tone curious.

I blinked, taken aback by the question. What did I want? Freedom, certainly. The open fields of Highgarden, the sweet scent of roses, the feel of the sun on my skin. But beyond that?

"I want to be seen," I said, surprising myself with the admission. "Not as just another pretty face or a pawn in someone else’s game, but as a person in my own right."

Tywin’s gaze softened, just a fraction. "You are seen," he said quietly. "By those who matter."

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around us faded. There was no King’s Landing, no political machinations, no family expectations. Just us, two people who had found something unexpected in each other.

I quickly looked away, my heart pounding. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to tease him, annoy him, make my time in the capital more bearable. I wasn’t supposed to… feel anything for him.

But the more I tried to deny it, the more I realized that I was drawn to him. Tywin Lannister, the cold, calculating, fearsome lion, had somehow managed to slip past my defenses. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

As the days turned into weeks, our encounters became more frequent. Tywin would seek me out at dinners, in the gardens, even during court sessions. Our conversations grew deeper, more personal, and I found myself looking forward to them more than I cared to admit.

My family, of course, noticed the change.

“You seem to be in a better mood these days,” Margaery remarked one evening as we prepared for bed. “I take it Lord Tywin is proving to be more than just a distraction?”

I huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s an old man, and I’m just… amusing myself.”

Olenna cackled from her chair by the fire. “Amusing yourself, is it? My dear, you’re playing with fire. And I think you’re starting to enjoy the burn.”

I glared at her. “I’m not falling for him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Of course not,” Margaery said, though the smirk on her face said otherwise. “But just remember, sister, that the most dangerous games are the ones where we don’t realize we’re the ones being played.”

I didn’t respond, though her words lingered in my mind long after she left the room. Was I being played? Or was I the one playing Tywin? And did it even matter anymore?

The turning point came during a feast celebrating Margaery’s upcoming wedding. The hall was filled with nobles, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and rich wine. The music was lively, the laughter louder, but all I could think about was the man sitting across the room.

Tywin had been watching me all night, his gaze a constant weight on me. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the festivities, but I found myself glancing at him more than I should. Eventually, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I excused myself from the table and slipped out into the gardens, hoping the cool night air would clear my head.

I hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to find Tywin standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Lord Tywin,” I said, my voice more breathless than I intended. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same,” he replied, stepping closer. “But I think I already know.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “And what is it that you think, my lord?”

He took another step, closing the distance between us. “I think you’re tired of the games, as am I.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us crackling in the air. And then, before I could think better of it, I reached up and kissed him.

It was a bold move, one that surprised both of us. But after a brief hesitation, he responded, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me close. The kiss was fierce, passionate, and I felt as though I was being consumed by it, by him.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily. I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of regret, but all I saw was desire.

“This… this doesn’t change anything,” I said, though even I wasn’t sure what I meant by that.

“No, it doesn’t,” Tywin agreed, his voice rough. “But it also changes everything.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He was right. This did change everything. But what that meant, I wasn’t sure.

In the days that followed, I found myself thinking more and more about Tywin. Our stolen kiss haunted me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. Would he pursue me? Would I pursue him? Or would we both pretend it never happened and continue our little game?

My family, of course, noticed my distraction.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Olenna remarked as we broke our fast one morning. “Thinking about a certain lion, are we?”

I rolled my eyes. “Grandmother, please. I’m just… trying to figure out what to do with myself. King’s Landing is so dreadfully boring.”

“Boring? Or is it that you’re too afraid to admit you’ve fallen for him?” Margaery asked, her tone light but her eyes serious.

“I haven’t fallen for him,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “I just… enjoy his company, that’s all.”

“Enjoy his company?” Olenna cackled. “My dear, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. There’s more than just ‘company’ there.”

I sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let it go. “Fine. Maybe there is something more. But it’s complicated. He’s Tywin Lannister, for gods’ sake. And I’m… well, I’m me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Margaery asked, tilting her head. “You’re a Tyrell. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and you’ve managed to capture the attention of the most powerful man in the realm. That’s no small feat.”

“But what if it’s just a game to him?” I asked, voicing my deepest fear. “What if I’m just another pawn in his grand scheme?”

Olenna reached across the table and patted my hand. “You may be a pawn, my dear, but you’re a clever one. And I have a feeling that Tywin Lannister doesn’t see you as a mere piece to be moved. He sees you as an equal, a partner. And that, my dear, is something to be reckoned with.”

That night, I found myself wandering the halls of the Red Keep, unable to sleep. My thoughts were a whirlwind, and I needed to clear my head. I didn’t have a destination in mind, but my feet seemed to know where they were going.

I ended up outside Tywin’s chambers, my heart pounding in my chest. I hesitated, unsure of what I was doing, but then the door opened, and there he was, as if he had been expecting me.

“Lady Tyrell,” he said, his voice low and even. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“I… I’m not sure,” I admitted, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I just… needed to see you.”

He stepped aside, allowing me to enter his chambers. I looked around, noting the sparse, almost austere furnishings. It was a room that reflected the man who inhabited it—practical, efficient, and devoid of any unnecessary comforts.

Tywin closed the door behind me and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “Why are you really here?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Because I’m tired of playing games,” I said, echoing his words from the garden. “I’m tired of pretending that there’s nothing between us when there clearly is.”

He regarded me for a long moment, his gaze intense. “And what do you want from me, Lady Tyrell?”

“I want you to be honest with me,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I want to know where we stand. Is this… whatever this is… is it real? Or am I just another piece on your board?”

Tywin’s expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask. “You are not a piece on my board,” he said quietly. “You are… more than that. Far more.”

I felt a surge of emotion at his words, but I didn’t want to let myself believe it so easily. “Then what am I to you?”

“You are a challenge,” he said, taking a step closer. “A distraction. A temptation. But more than that, you are someone who sees me as I am, not as the world expects me to be. And that is something I did not expect to find.”

“And what about you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“I see a woman who is brave, intelligent, and not afraid to speak her mind,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “I see someone who challenges me in ways I haven’t been challenged in years. And I see someone who I am… drawn to, despite my better judgment.”

My breath caught in my throat at his admission. “And what do we do now?”

Tywin reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek. “Now, we stop pretending,” he said before lowering his lips to mine.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with all the unspoken words between us. When we finally pulled apart, I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

“Whatever happens,” Tywin said, his forehead resting against mine, “know that this is real. You are not just a distraction, not just a game. You are something I never expected to find in King’s Landing.”

“And you,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion, “are something I never expected to want.”

We stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, both of us realizing that we had crossed a line we could never uncross. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that I didn’t want to go back.

This was real. This was something more than either of us had anticipated. And whatever happened next, we would face it together.

As the days passed, our relationship deepened. We were careful to keep it hidden from the court—Tywin, after all, had a reputation to maintain, and I had no desire to become the subject of court gossip. But in the quiet moments we stole away together, I found myself growing closer to him than I ever thought possible.

My family, of course, was not fooled.

“You seem… different,” Margaery remarked one morning as we broke our fast. “Happier, perhaps?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I’ve just… found something to occupy my time.”

Olenna smirked. “And does this ‘something’ have a name?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Grandmother, please.”

“Oh, don’t be coy, dear,” Olenna said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve finally found something—or someone—to make your time in King’s Landing more bearable.”

“And if I have?” I asked, meeting her gaze. “Is that so wrong?”

Olenna’s expression softened. “Not at all, my dear. Just be careful. Tywin Lannister is a powerful man, but he’s also a dangerous one. Don’t lose yourself in him.”

“I won’t,” I promised, though I wasn’t entirely sure if I believed it myself. Tywin was a force of nature, and being with him was like being caught in a storm. But it was a storm I had no desire to escape.

Margaery, for her part, was more supportive. “I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy,” she said as we walked in the gardens later that day. “Just… be careful. The court can be a treacherous place, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, though her concern touched me. “I’m not some naive girl who can’t handle herself. And Tywin… he’s different with me. I think I can trust him.”

“I hope you’re right,” Margaery said, squeezing my hand. “But just know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Author's note • Not proofread, may be typos.

Word Count ~ 2.9k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv● v ● vi● vii ●viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

iv ~ 'Driftmark'

123 AC

After the birth of Prince Joffrey Velaryon, Princess Rhaenyra had swiftly decided to take herself, her husband and their children to live upon Dragonstone amidst the dark rumours which followed the parentage of her son’s. Similar rumours followed her daughter, the Princess Visenya; however, it was claims of her father being not that or Ser Harwin Strong, but of Daemon Targaryen. Much like her brothers, Visenya bared little resemblance to her proclaimed father Laenor Velaryon and upon the birth of Prince Joffrey, another son born to Rhaneyra, of pale skin and dark hair; the difference in appearance grew beyond stark.

Despite this, Visenya had adored her new life on Dragonstone, she felt it suited her much greater than the piss smelling streets of King’s Landing. Whether it be from the raging storms or thick smell of volcanic ash wish drifted upon the wind; the shores of Dragonstone were utterly ideal for Visenya. She had seldom thought of her Uncle Aemond, since last seeing him all those moons ago – however, she found herself reluctant still to be rid of his copy of ‘Age’s of Heros’ that she had stolen from him.

Much like everything else in the Princesses quarters, she kept the copy stacked carelessly upon her unkept bookshelf. She felt dissatisfied with the current furnishings of her quarters, currently they seemed quite plain, besides the detailed patterned carvings in the stone arches over her bed, of course. Today, was like many other days upon Dragonstone, drizzling with rain with the low rumbles of thunder over the horizon, yet Visenya had spent most of her day brooding. No, even the electrifying atmosphere could lift Visenya’s spirits – as her name day had finally arrived she was of ten and three now. Soon to be a woman as her mother had greeted her that morning, presenting her with an array of gorgeous silken, jewelled toned gowns and shoes. Her father, Ser Leanor had gifted her two sapphire and jade coloured gowns as he wished to see her adorn the House Velaryon shades more often. Blue was a colour she seldom wore, though Ser Leanor had insisted she wear one of his gifted gowns today. Among the sea of treasures Lord’s from across the realm had sent, along with propositions for betrothals to their young and sometimes old sons. Indeed, Visenya had been spoiled with many arriving Ravens, however there was only one she truly longed to receive.

The Princess sat, gloomily looking out upon the swirling tides of The Narrow Sea. Her deep blue gown gleaming as the last light of the day passed beyond the horizon. Despite the planned festivities and newly given treasures she had been on the verge of tears since the afternoon – since no mention of a raven from her true father Daemon had been accounted for. He always sent a raven on her name day, always.

 She had supposed he must truly be happily busy in Pentos, so happy with his tempered lifestyle that he had all but forgotten of her. I mean, he did have her half-sisters to indulge wit his affections, surely watching them grow every day with such pride that poor Visenya was simply out of sight, out of mind. Her mind stewed with all the possibilities regarding his silence, jealously and sorrow filled her as every passing hour came with it a new level of disappointment.

Yet still, she waited, hoping to see another raven glide through the sky; hoping to see the likes of something that would never come.

●

The servants tended to Visenya, braiding her hair lavishly for her name day supper. Her low mood did not escape the notice of her handmaid Olenna, who gently squeezed her hand; somehow Visenya could sense the woman knew of her troubles.

The hour passed swiftly, and the Princess had waited impatiently to be sent for supper. Olenna had readied her chambers, so many times in fact did she adjust any crease or crinkle upon the Princesses bed that Visenya had to all but command Olenna to sit and entertain herself with a book.

Echoing footsteps dawned upon the opening of her chambers, Visenya stood apprehensively her brow raised at the frantic whispering she heard. She looked to Olenna, who suddenly readjusted herself and stood quickly, a familiar soft voice beckoned her head to turn.

“My girl…come.” Princess Rhaenyra stood, extending her hand as she awaited her daughter to follow. Visenya moved apprehensively, once her hand met the warmth of her mother’s Visenya furrowed her brows in concern as Rhaenyra led her quietly out into the halls of Dragonstone.

The two had not uttered a word, Visenya knew something was amiss, something was terribly wrong. What if it is her father? What if Daemon has been struck down in Pentos or found dead in a ditch? What if that is why he never sent for a letter. Oh Gods, she was going to be sick, no she was to faint. The feeling built and built within her, brewing within her as she found herself riddled with tormenting thoughts of all the possibilities. The Princess stopped her face white with dread as tears filled her eyes.

“Is it my father?” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop herself, but she had to know. She needed to know.

Rhaenyra turned and stepped forward to reach her daughters hands, she shook her head, “Gods no… no father is with your brothers. Come, we must speak to you.”

Visenya trembled, her voice like gossamer, she hesitated for a moment, hesitated in revealing the truth, that she knew of her mother’s lies, knew she was indeed of Daemon’s blood. “No! No, not Ser Leanor.” Her voice meek.

Rhaneyra’s eyes widened, her face dropping further as the silence filled the space between them. Her mind raced, her emotions swelling with anger and fear, yet also with acquiescence – she sighed and shook her head. After all, it was not the fault of her daughter’s that she had been sold a falsehood, Rhan    eyra had supposed had she never wished for Visenya to discover the truth she would have put a stop to Daemon contacting the young Princess. Yet, she didn’t.

Rhaenyra gripped her daughter’s wrist, pulling her softly towards her, she looked around making sure they were indeed without any other company who might hear such an admittance. “As I said, your father is fine.” Princess Rhaenyra gave her daughter a sympathetic look, allowing the two to come to an understanding as she stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Come.”

With that, Visenya was soon taken to the hearth of the throne room, she looked with wide unsure eyes, still dressed in her fine sapphire blue gown. Ser Leanor sitting upon a grand, leather arm chair as he clutched the hand of Lucerys trembled, shaking his head as his eyes met Visenya’s, she saw the gleam of tears down his face.

As she came to his side, his hands shifted to take her into his arms – both Rhaenyra and Ser Leanor exchanged solemn looks before they gazed at the three children before them.

Ser Leanor spoke lowly, standing as he joined Rhaenyra’s side. “Earlier this afternoon, we had received a letter from Pent- “

Visenya stepped forward, her eyes beaming, “Pentos? Daemon?”

Suddenly a soft sob came from Ser Leanor, Jace and Luke gazing worryingly as they watched their ‘father’ turn, his hand upon his forehead as he attempted to compose himself. Rhaenyra sighed, gently placing her hand on his forearm as she spoke.  

“Yes, Visenya, it was from Daemon… he has informed us of recent events which, we thought it best to let you know of. Of course, Visenya, I know this is not the most opportune moment and I do promise once we return we shall find the time to properly celebrate your name day.” Rhaneyra spoke softly, she furrowed her brow in sympathy as she gazed at her daughter.

Jace shook his head, stepping forward in curiosity, “Return? From where?”

“Driftmark… your, Aunt Lady Laena she…” The shaking voice of Ser Leanor once again found little ability to continue speaking before his tears overcame him.

Princess Rhaneyra gave Ser Leanor a grimace gesturing for him to sit down once more, after he did so, she turned to Visenya and her brother’s, her voice that same delicate tone. “She unexpectedly went into labour with her child, to which she… she did not survive. We must travel to Driftmark on the morrow for her funeral is to be within the next few days, I believe.”

The young Princess stepped back, the words of her mother almost echoing in the stoney halls of Dragonstone. Is that why Daemon never sent a raven? What of her half-sisters… shall they come to live upon Dragonstone now? Her thoughts raced right as she looked to her brother’s both whose eyes weakened in sorrow. Visenya clasped the hand of her younger brother Lucerys, and the distress of Ser Leanor almost didn’t register in Visenya’s mind as his shattering sobs filled the space around them.

●

Lady Laena’s funeral was met with the news of the suspicious death of Ser Harwin Strong a few hours prior, it took everything in her to not take Jace in her arms, to follow up upon the grief in his eyes as he tried to stifle it down.

Visenya sat upon her assigned chamber in Castle Driftmark, wiping the rogue tears that rolled down her cheek. It was a solemn day, everything seemed glazed in a strange gloom that seemed particularly hard to shake, for it was the suspicious death of Ser Strong which marked the day even more grim. Some had said mayhap it was the curse of Harrenhal, even the sound of that name sent fine chills down Visenya’s spine, she had heard of horrid stories of its curse, the gruesome deaths, wailing wind and twisted visions that send men to madness.

As the Princess looked up, her eyes caught the wide window that overlooked Blackwater Bay, the way the dark water curled and wiped against the rocks seemed to echo the coiling of the grey clouds that wept above. The inner walls of castle Driftmark were a particularly dreary place on days such as this, the dark salt stained walls seemed to weep as the air filled with a particular damp smell which was impossible to shake. It was completely unlike the warmth of Dragonstone, and Visenya longed for the warm air of home that left her skin smelling of dragonfire. Instead, she felt… itchy and cold.

She looked to the skies, noticing the rumbling behind the clouds – one which seemed like that of a Dragon’s and a mournful roar sent a deep vibration through her chest as the dark, looming mass of what could only be Laena’s dragon, Vhagar soared the sky. Visenya’s eyes watered once more at Vhagar’s lament, her heart aching at the thought of how the dragon must ache for her rider. The Princess had always had a soft spot for the large beast, she was terribly old; and Visenya couldn’t help but to think just how strange it must be to live to see eras come and go. How awful it must feel to see the deaths of her many riders over the centuries and feel the loss of a time which shall never return. She had known of the bond between her great ancestor, to whom she was named after; Queen Visenya Targaryen and Vhagar – marvelling at the thought it was indeed Queen Visenya herself, who was the very first to ride upon the back of mighty beast.

It was not just Vhagar’s sorrow which made the Princess weep softly, but also the thought of Lady Laena – her once beautiful face now nothing more than a charred corpse, alongside the babe that she carried within. Visenya looked up to the curdling grey clouds, noticing how they reminded her of Laena’s coiled silvery locks – how, whether it be a brother or sister, Visenya thought of the silvery curls which would amass upon the babe’s head if it had been born. The sentiment rattled the young Princess, to die such a death, screaming and grieving all at once. To know feel the crossover, the toll of death birthing new life oft takes upon a woman. It made her heart thump, the very thought of Laena’s cries and screams, how surreal it would have been… how scared she likely was.

The gentle waft of dark mead and ash filled Visenya’s senses as a warm hand gripped her shoulder, “Tala…” Daughter

The Princess eyes widened, she wiped around and the sight before her did little to prevent more tears from falling, the grim face of her father, Prince Daemon looked down upon her and before Visenya said another word she threw her arms around him, letting the warmth of his embrace engulf her as she wept softly, “Kepa..” Father

He cupped her face, bringing her eyes to meet his as the Princess babbled, “I was so worried, you never sent a Raven…I…” Visenya shook her head, wiping her tears.

A noticeable silence filled the space, Daemon’s eyes narrowed down before he pulled away, his hand on his head before he paused to speak again.  “You know why I couldn’t.”

The princess’s eyes pleaded; she stepped forward wishing he would take her in her arms once more, “I know… but I… I just wished you’d have sent one?”

The Rogue Prince scoffed, shaking his head incredulously as his daughter’s words only managed to strike him in a selfish manner, “You are not a little girl, Visenya! The time has long since passed for such childish needs of a fucking gift for your name day.”

“You think I am upset because you bare no gift? No- “Visenya protested.

Daemon found himself beyond angry, though he was not sure if it was truly his daughter whom he felt it towards – mayhap it was everything. Everything he desired taken so brutally from him or destroyed. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of blame for Laena, how he had refused her wished to return to Driftmark before the birth, how he had hardly even been a husband to her at all. What right did he have to grief when he had all but been the man to occasionally warm her bed, rather than the father to her children. The guilt crushed him, he had spent his many years longing for Rhaenyra, longing to see Visenya – when his true wife, his legitimate daughters stood before him, awaiting for the day when he could finally show affection.

Daemons voice was hoarse, tormented as he snapped, “The matter of what happened to your sister’s mother, had to take priority. I had little mind of celebration and apologise if such a thing discomforted you, but it is well time you learn that there shall be times when I cannot send for you, times when I must attend to greater fucking matters!”

Her heart all but dropped upon hearing her father’s words, was that all she was? A mere afterthought to more important matters? The daughter he made and then abandoned, while he lived lavishly in Pentos. While he spoiled Baela and Rhaena with attention for all these years and Visenya wait with bated breath for a fucking raven only on her name day? Visenya stepped forward, furious now as she hollered, “Greater matters than your own daug-“

The Princess was once again cut off by his warm hand over her mouth, he gripped her harshly, lowering his head to whisper. “Walls have ears.” Daemon paused, his tone softening as he released her from his grasp, “Baela and Rhaena are also my daughters.” His eyes softened as he looked upon Visenya, how she had grown so much, how every time his eyes caught a glimpse of her, it was like meeting a new person.

Prince Daemon looked down, unwilling to shed any tears despite them nagging at his eyes. The pain of seeing his daughter grow, the years of her childhood spent without him – without her own father guiding her, basking in her first moments. He hadn’t been there when she first claimed Silverwing, he had hardly been there for any of her life at all.

A solemn silence filled the space, Visenya stood with her hands clutching each other, more tears falling as she looked up at him, her eyes still pleading for him to look up at her, to hold her as he did once or twice in the Dragonpits, all those years ago. She hated seeing how he truly had started to look older, his face slightly more wrinkled with age now. Visenya couldn’t help but to fear, one day she’d look at her father and see an old man – and then, that would be it.

The princess stepped forward once more, her voice desperately gentle, weak almost as she spoke, “You’ve not sent word in so long… and I… Nyke ēdan missed ao, kepa.” I had missed you, father. The final words sounding as though they came from the small girl she once was, rather than the bourgeoning young woman her mother said she would soon become.

Daemon let her words hang for a moment before he looked up, his own eyes pleading with her now as he gazed upon his daughter with a guilty affection that even as the Rogue Prince, he still felt frightened by. Her words made his belly coil in sorrow, coil with a love that warmed every bone in his body, his hand extended out, reaching to capture her small one in his as he spoke, his voice nothing more than a whisper, “I know, zaldrītsos.” little dragon.

○ v ○

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

What Olenna Tyrell would wear in The North

(Bob Mackie, 1986)

[thehauntingofharrenhouse]

SIGHING the age difference between margaery and sansa is p big for teenagers! margaery is closer to jon and robb's age than sansa's. margaery and her family actively pursued an interest in elevating her to queen from at least the first book if not longer, tywin was actively trying to arrange a marriage between cersei and rhaegar before the maggy scene, which takes place when cersei was younger than sansa is at the beginning of the series. ned and catelyn had barely discussed sansa's options before joffrey shows up; they might have thought of it later or they might have chosen someone else. the wealthy southern houses are ambitious, but starks rarely send their daughters south to marry. sansa has talent and big dreams, and cat would at least think to take that into account. likely cat was expecting to marry her into another great house, but we know cat wanted her kids to be happy?? and be children?? for as long as they can. she was surprised and a little upset that robb was wearing live steel, even tho he's nearly an adult by westerosi standards and competent enough to manage winterfell when she understandably neglects her duties while bran is in his coma.

this is not a bad thing!! this is reasonable!! and cat did teach sansa how to be a lady the same way ned taught robb and jon to be a lord, through example and demonstration. all highborn girls have lessons with a septa, not least to occupy them while the boys are practicing hitting each other with swords. sansa and arya were also given lessons with maester luwin, which is a significant advantage that not all highborn girls get. and honestly this solid foundation gave sansa and arya the tools they needed to survive thus far!!

catelyn was expecting sansa (and arya!) to continue her education at court, under the supervision of ned and with the help of septa mordane. and cersei did try to educate her in her own terrible way––catelyn could not have known how incompetent cersei was (honestly cersei had robert killed in an incredibly sophisticated way that would still be hard to prove in real court, she is a lot more together in the first book). ned resolved to end the betrothal as soon as he saw what joffrey was like, he definitely believed revealing joffrey's parentage would make this easy.

margaery came to king's landing with an army at her back, knowing there was a possibility, however slim, of the lannisters rejecting an alliance. she knew she was entering a city her family had been starving out for months!! she brought food!!! she was prepared. she knew exactly what she was getting into!! loras had almost definitely been feeding the tyrells information about the court for years, if only so they'd know what was going on lol.

the tyrells are absolutely the lannisters' foils, I think that's pretty clear? margaery is the political powerhouse cersei wants to be, and she has the support and respect cersei craves. loras is the new Best Tourney Knight who mostly lives up to the ideals jaime strives for without really trying, and his relationship actually is unfairly discriminated against instead of just creepy (affectionate). willas is the scholarly heir trusted absolutely, like his claim is so rock solid he is just left with the castle, and he has a more 'socially acceptable' disability (in tyrion's mind especially!). like they are both engaged to sansa even. and olenna is who tywin thinks he is, except she also has the power of being a reasonable adult who would prefer that people (not joffrey) didn't get hurt. then garlan is just a good guy, all the lannisters wish they had a garlan

for the record, also, sansa tried to 'talk up' joffrey because she was terrified. she does not like anything about joffrey at this point and is desperately trying to think of things to say that won't get her killed?? what olenna and margaery do so well, and what is indicative of their strength as politicians and the power of being nice to people, is put sansa at ease enough that she's willing to tell them the truth. like yes sansa was fully deluding herself at one point, accepting joffrey's apology for lady's death, but she starts to hate him as soon as he has ned arrested (and their household killed??). how many of us can say we have not gone a little delusional over a crush in middle school regardless of what our parents taught us. lmao.

cat and ned may not have prepared sansa to be queen but they are the reason alayne is still kind, and that is why she inspires the kind of loyalty littlefinger can't, which will prove to be her greatest weapon.

[goldleaf-blog]

A Ninjago au where everything stays the same but Wu is born a women. Au inspired by @swampythesweetsketch

Wu get to kept her name since the name is gender neutral.

Instead of being called Sensei, Wu goes by Lady or Mistress.

Being the daughter of God has it's downside as man across Ninjago want her hand in marriage.

Because of her beauty Wu has to wear a veil to cover her face. You would often see her with a veil hat.

During the Serpentine wars Wu wore the Oni Mask of Deception. The books recalls this event as "The daughter of Light who clothed herself in deception."

She's more close to her Oni side then she is her dragon side.

She grew spiteful after her brother's betrayal that she slowly fell into a path of villainy. Until she became a victim of the Overlord's possession.

Headcanon voice claim: Olenna Tyrell

[sikudastoner]

👗 + Nysa at the Purple Wedding (if she’s there) or in a scene of your choice?

Thank you for the ask! She sure is at the Purple Wedding (her and Auntie Olenna plotting against Joffrey, along with Victyr in our shared oc universe 🤭.) I already answered for it. However, lemme talk about Nysa when she was a Tyrell who would visit Sunspear every summer.

She normally wore clothes that covered up when she was around her father but in Dorne, she’d get dropped off and she was free to wear whatever she wanted without repercussions so yay another mini collage.

Hair wise - her father told her to always wear her hair in braids because it’s too “wild.” Even though he would be gone, she’d still wear it like so because it’s easier to manage plus it’s hot as hell.

[daenystheedreamer]

omg the one ask about your modern au reminded me of your keeping up with the baratheons thing i loved it so much!!!! do you have any other ideas/hcs for it???

AHHH KUWTB i missed them... ok so i love the idea of like real housewives of king's landing existing and cersei being on a season of it and thats how she starts being famous for being famous yknow.

RHOKL cersei season: cersei, taena merryweather, tanda stokeworth, falyse stokeworth, lysa arryn, selyse florent, alerie tyrell. they're not KL technically but i would also add genna lannister, ellaria sand and sybell spicer.

i think this lineup would cause some astronomical levels of cunt and slay, but cersei is definitely the breakout star. marge and olenna show up as side characters. lysa exits the show dramatically. selyse falls for MLM scams and is forced to leave when she tries hawking them on facebook. the real actual cops get called when cersei and ellaria grab wine glasses and turn them into shanks and start trying to stab each other. there's soooo many cocaine and drunk driving arrests.

KUWTB is a RHOKL (jesus christ ive got asoiaf acronym brain) spinoff because cersei was so fucking insane and the ratings were so good everytime she like caused a physical fight. taena is the ONLY person from RHOKL that cersei doesnt have personal violent beef with (ellaria and cersei have restraining orders) and she shows up o KUWTB.

also i like the crack theory that taena's son is a robert bastard and i think it would be VERY funny for that scandal to play out.

myrcella likes RHOKL she thinks its funny and she liked wearing pretty dresses when she shows up on the show. joffrey fucking hates it so much he's like everyone at school thinks im GAY cos of this. tommen is just excited cos 'mummy's on tv!' robert does not give a fuck

also taena and cersei go on a season of westerosi celebrity big brother and have implied lesbian sex in an episode

[atopvisenyashill]

apart from our fashion girlie sansa who else would slay at the met gala?

ROOSE BOLTON

RENLY BARATHEON

Tywin but he’s like an evil white Law you know, he’s not there as a celebrity, he designed his family’s entire wardrobe tho and they are all on theme every year and they all match, like Zendaya and Law always match.

Given the flower approach to the theme most people took this year, I do think the Tyrells would excel here. We know it’s not Olenna designing their outfits bc all the flowers annoy her, so I bet it’s Alerie, probably with input from Margaery, and there is something I find kind of adorable about that. I bet Mace wears something really basic, while Garlan & Willas go more Dan Levy “well done but still technically a suit” looks while Loras does something wild.

Theon Greyjoy!!! He is NOT afraid to accessorize!!!

Ned Stark but he’d be like quietly fashionable, like remember Darren Criss’ camp look that was definitely striking but not so Loud? like that.

Arianne and Lady Nym would tag team it and look really good

RHAENYRA. She’s serious about staying on theme, she makes like 40 “society if people were turned away for not staying on theme” memes every year. Jacaerys looks good and on theme too, obviously, no one ever has any idea what Daemon is doing but he definitely did something.

Alicent Hightower, she’s serious about met gala dresses being a place to Tell A Story, she always does deep archival work.

I think Shireen would love to explain the theme and how someone’s outfit interacts with it to Davos & Patchface. Davos doesn’t really follow but he DOES start incorporating jewelry into his fits bc Shireen complained that not enough people wear a nice broach or headpiece.

[rainwingmarvel7]

For Victyr because that's my best boy of yours-- bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Kissing you on the forehead for asking about our bestest boy. Thank you!

Bound: Victyr has never technically been captured/imprisoned, but I would consider his time in King’s Landing after returning with the Tyrells as being close enough. Because he basically became a traitor when he joined Renly’s cause, the Lannisters absolutely do not trust him and keep him under watch pretty much all the time. Joffrey also hates him and has made that very clear, taking joy in tormenting him in whatever ways he can think of (rip Jenny and Ros). He doesn’t have any physical scars from that time (although that may change Bc as I’m writing this I’m getting some ideas), just emotional ones. He eventually escapes with Sansa during the Purple Wedding (which he definitely had no involvement in wink wink).

Mask: Although he doesn’t have a physical mask, Victyr definitely has a figurative one. Early on he realized that he needed to have one in order to stay alive, particularly in King’s Landing. Beneath the mask of reserved coolness and compliance is a brilliant, calculating mind at work - and a young boy full of emotions which he cannot being himself to express (especially his love for a certain red-haired Stark girl). The only ones who can see through that mask without him letting it down are his siblings (in particular Nadya, as they have a very close sibling bond), his father, Sansa, Margaery and Olenna, and his two best friends, Arya and Sam.

[thembohux]

WIP Wednesday (not really but work with me here)

Thank you so much @theold-ultraviolence for tagging me, my love. I’m going to add a little preview of my upcoming HOTD fic that I’m very slowly working on.

—————-

Her betrothed was sitting down the table from her, half listening to his brother go on about something but watching Vallah intently.

She began to grow hot under his gaze and finally undid the clasps on the furs, pushing them off her shoulders to reveal a gown made of deep blue silk.

Aemond entirely blocked out what Aegon was saying now, only focused on Vallah and that damned gown she’d been hiding all day. He’d seen glimpses of it here and there, a look at the flowing sleeves or a small sliver of the skirt.

Vallah had actually fought with her father all morning to avoid wearing the heavy fur cloak, dissolving into tears when Lord Rickon told her she’d catch her death waiting outside in something so thin.

“My darling girl, what is it?”

“He won’t like me if I can’t make a good impression,” Vallah sniffled, looking down. “He’ll only marry me for duty.”

“Well, the prince would be a fool to make such shallow judgments.”

Rickon had given Vallah one of the fur cloaks Cregan and Lancion would’ve worn on their hunts, trying to keep her as warm as possible. He wasn’t sure why Olenna and Anyssa allowed her to have such impractical garments made every time the seamstress visited.

——————

Tagging anyone else who wants to do this!

[horizon-verizon]

The HotD Costumes (EDITED - 9/23/23)

I know this tends to be the more forgiveable and even celebrated aspect of the ASoIaF TV shows and any fantasy novel series-adapted show.

Some of the outfits for the women in HotD were meaningful for what the writers wanted to produce in terms of characterization and/or were just stunning in their own right for modern audiences. There is no doubt the designers, stylists, and costumers put effort into this show.

And there’s obviously the expectation to see dissonant choices in action, look, etc. from canon in any element of an adaptation. 

Then there’s always issues with material and budget.

And we still want our characters to look good and distinctive enough that we’d recognize the clothes coming from the show/story itself.

However....

Most of the HotD still doesn’t make sense in the context of a European medieval-styled world (that is Westeros) for a show that wants to depict the dynamics and image of a feudal patriarchal society. A lot of the immersive value gets lost when you have garments that expose a lot of the arms and shoulders.

I don’t really feel like these women are placed in a system of gender-based, sexual containment. and this was a problem I had back with Game of Thrones but forced myself to accept since it was out of my control.

Example #1 

Laena’s Neckline Goes too Low and Shows Too Much of the Shoulders

Seems more like something you’d see on a modern fashion runway.

Example #2 

It’s the slit showing Alicent’s breasts.

While “good” and girlboss for us, in Westeros and in court it would forever get Alicent labeled as a whore or immodest woman unfit to be Queen. She herself would never ever wear this with all her internalized misogyny.

And while being called/perceived as a "loose woman" or something similar does not mean total social exclusion AND high-risk loss of the only real access to power, authority given for women in modern Western societies, it does mean exactly that for Westerosi feudal noble/royal women. Alicent does have something to lose by this...which is why Rhaenyra is having as much trouble as she is having while not ever even dressing "provocatively" (except in her second pregnancy dress, which again, to us modern Westerners is not really considered provocative. But to Westerosi people? It is pushing it).

Since we acknowledge that dress is a political statement with a particular political message not just to Rhaenyra, the dress Alicent wore here totally contradicts her motivations of episode 6 and the claimed goal of upholding conservative values.

Why are we trying to deny that Alicent's personality and the very cultural context that have a hand in sharing who she is? Why are we denying the culture and what these women are up against by making these anachronistic pieces? Doesn't this make as if there is no patriarchy when Alicent wears this dress AND doesn't encounter any consequences for it? Where is the narrative conflict, the immersion?

Example #3 

Alicent’s bare arms -- GoT was strange for this sort of sleeve, too.

Example #4 (the point should be obvious by now)

HotD is reminiscent (in terms of plain visuals and what it did to the constraints on medieval female agency) of the show Reign, which straight up had designs that would never exist in Renaissance (around 1400s-1500s) Europe.

Except HotD is really trying to get us to believe and feel its world's women’s and girls’ sexual restrictions.....

These are the clothes that are closer to Westerosi noble dress (and even those dips into the breast are themselves bold choices):

🎨: naomimakesart : "The Lions of Casterly Rock"

Ironically, the male costumes are much more faithful....since you know apparently there’s less of a stake there. 

And even though it’s GoT, there is this incompatibility with clothing we can imagine for Westeros:

....Even with Olenna being a much older woman (undesirable for a man looking for a marriage) and the show making the Tyrells/people in the Reach a little less covered.....

The stark contrast of these garments of Margareyn and Olenna gave a contradiction instead of a subtle difference of maturity.

How does Margarey get away with that much? even with a rich and powerful noble family, she’s still a girl who had an image of female chastity to uphold and conform to. She wouldn't be exempt from that. If she had full sleeves and a little dip in the chest like in the illustration by naomimakesart above, that would have made so much more sense.

By the way, here are examples of some real-life medieval female clothing (of various specific decades and regions within the overall medieval era [c.400s - 1400s]):

🎨: 

Albert Kretschmer @ worldhistory.org

Philosophy Presenting the Seven Liberal Arts to Boethius (detail), miniature in a French manuscript of The Consolation of Philosophy attributed to the Coëtivy Master, about 1460–70 @ blogs.getty.edu

world4.edu

nehalenniacreation.wordpress.com

prue batten

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Random Things 035/Dyo Says In His Sleep

Before we begin, for the record 035 on a humanoid body does sleep. He also says some strannge ass things while sleeping. As his 'brain' is anomalous, it gets weird. And now... Dyo's Greatest Hits.

"I'd like to thank the Academy, but you're a bunch of talentless hacks. Goodnight, and come up with an original idea for once."

"Doctor... is that a syringe in your hand, or are you happy to see me?"

"Banana? Honey, I'm the whole fruit stand."

"Roses? For me? You do care, 682!"

"I could totally pull off the seashell bra. I'll prove it." A pause. "On second thought... this damned thing is impractical and uncomfortable. And I kinda like pain."

"My queen, that wig is too much. And why make those poor canaries suffer in that dreadful mess?"

"What do we do every night? Try to break out of containment and take over the world. Do keep up, old chap."

"I'm sorry I said that loincloth makes your ass look big. Will you kindly stop hitting me with a fishing rod, 076-2?"

"Cargo shorts? Dr. Clef, you disappoint me."

"What do you mean, 'sarcasm and pessimism will not look good on your performance review'? I'm not even employed here."

"No, as tempting as naked yoga sounds, I just don't like you, Dr. Bright."

"Hey, hey, hey! Party Keter in the house, yo!" A brief pause. "Fine. I am never saying that again."

"Cactus Man! Cactus Man! Does everything a cactus can. Look out! Here comes the Cactus Man." A minute passes. "Please don't sue us."

"Okay, this is now serious. They brought lawyers."

"Those boots, with that skirt? Tres impractical, my dear."

"Hob and Morpheus are spot on, Shakespeare's a twink. And had legs like a anorexic chicken. Tights... did not flatter him in the least. The Plague Doctor can confirm."

"I met Madame Shelly, a rather charming young lady. Keen intellect, warm smile, and impeccable fashion sense. Not my type, but very lovely. She used to tell the best stories."

"Meh. 'Archeologist' is just the socially acceptable way of saying 'tomb raider' or 'grave robber' in my opinion. Even if what he found went to a museum, Indiana Jones still stole relics from various cultures and sold them for profit."

"You want me to wear clothes? Turn. On. The. Air. Conditioning. It's over 85 degrees in here, and so humid if I had hair it would frizz."

"Donut. It takes some stones to wear pink armor. You're a badass Spartan. Own. The. Armor! Flaunt it! Yeah! Pink and proud, baby!"

"Ooh! Look at the big, strong, scary SuperTyrant in his precious little fedora and trenchcoat. As dumb as this thing is... it's got style. It's a massive bullet sponge from bioweapon hell, but done with actual taste."

"Do I have to share with... HIM? But... he takes way too much. It's my pint of Genocide By Cacao, I stole it fair and square!"

"WHAT? Oh, sure... I spend WEEKS hand embroidering my costume, after cutting and sewing and wigmaking, doing Oscar worthy work, and no one cares. But! Slap some eyeliner on him, braid bloody golden rings and bells into his hair, and suddenly everybody wants to know if Khal Drogo is now in Foundation custody. I worked really hard on my Olenna Tyrell ensemble. Golden roses are complicated! Abel didn't even try! Iris did all the work, give HER the free pizza. This stupid 'Game of Thrones' costume contest is rigged!" Thirty seconds pass. "And that pizza is terrible and loaded with preservatives anyway."

In hindsight... whomever introduced Dyo to the works of George R. R. Martin...has made a grave mistake. At least it was entertaining.

[marblecarved]

Olenna has many rings, all kept inside the rosewood jewelry box one can notice there, on her vanity. There are a couple of rings which were a present from her husband, Luthor Tyrell, easily recognisable by their rose details; and then there are others that, though not so richly detailed, still seem to have a rather important look to them. One, for example, is a ring that Olenna can oft be seen wearing: It's a gold ring, with a blue gemstone in the middle - a sapphire, which adorns the middle finger of her right hand on all occasions, together with a gold, intricate and smaller ring which, in turn, adorns the middle finger of her left hand.

Considering the size of the sapphire ring, there would be no need to show it off - since it makes itself known well enough, yet Olenna does all the same. She moves her hands just so, right hand over left hand; Or she fiddles with it, adjusting the ring in a way that speaks more of habit than a way to tell she is upset - so it's a slow, distracted movement of her thumb pushing against the ring's side and then upward, until it is positioned exactly how she wants it.

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

What Olenna Tyrell would wear

[dulcewrites]

I love how Targ stans are like Visenya, Alysanne, Rhaenyra, Dany are so great but then they turn around and say Naerys, Rhaella and other Targ queens who weren't dragonriders suck. And I saw a comment on YouTube that it's funny how Targ princesses position lowered (well, it was never very high but after death of dragons it went to basically 0) after death of dragons and they lost significance in eyes of many when they weren't dragonriders. Well it's not hard to understand that those girls are only impressed when Targ princesses threaten to burn everything to assert dominance as if it was a sing of being powerful 😂 and when they lack dragons they are worth less than spitting on the ground even though they had to put up with their toxic and violent brothers-husbands. If to them Targ princesses value depends on whether they have a dragon or not, do we really need to wonder if they are feminist? Because they are clearly not, what's more they think Targ princesses cannot possibly be powerful without giant lizard spitting fire so it just reminds me of words from Tony Stark to Peter Parker If you're nothing without this suit then you shouldn't have it and the same could be applied to all those girlbosess Targ princesses that certain people love and refuse to see they are not perfect. What are all of them without dragons? Okay, Visenya knew how to fight, Alysanne was very intelligent, but Rhaenyra and Dany just spoiled child and arrogant child and they both don't know how game of thrones is played. Just look at basically legendary player, Olenna Tyrell and how many times did she threaten someone directly? Only twice, with High Sparrow and Littlefinger and with High Sparrow it was because he imprisoned Loras and Margaery and Littlefinger because she predicted he would go to Cersei and say she poisoned Joffrey and at the end of conversation it was Littlefinger who needed to rethink his strategy because if he spoke a word about Olenna murdering Joffrey, she would also play at this game and she will say Littlefinger was also involved in this so that's why she said our fates are joined, together we murdered the king, meaning if Littlefinger will expose her and her house, she would do the same to him. But Olenna talk with Tywin, it's so great because 1) Tywin couldn't harm her or her house after they helped Lannisters defeat Stannis 2) they were both head of their houses and there is so much between the lines, so much unspoken things and that's the beauty of game of thrones. It's all about plotting, look at Varys and Littlefinger and then look at Rhaenyra and Dany. Come on, does anyone take this crazy stans seriously? When I was watching how Hightowers interact with others it's all about being subtle, it's getting what they want but not in brutal way like Targs are known for, because it doesn't matter whether you have a dragon or not, but when you are stupid, others will manipulate you and play smart and use you for their own benefit and that's why I don't respect Targs as family because almost all of them act like entitled to everything all the time and their arrogance causes them to be shortsighted and they think just because they wear crown, have dragons that it means they are the most powerful people in the world, but that's wrong, because they are not.

I do think a large appeal of the Targaryens is their dragons which like… fine whatever. Dragons are cool. I think the mythos behind their family is cool. But I think a lot of people maybe project certain ideas of the Targaryens to frankly make them seem more competent or more politically savvy.

Much of the power they wield is in their dragons (for a time) and by telling themselves, and by proxy, others that they should be seen as gods because of said dragons. Once the rider is stripped of that dragon or any some cases does not have one yet, they are isolated or seen as less targaryen. Regardless of how much blood they may have. I think the whole targ family, Jaehaerys with the doctrine in particular, do themselves a disfavor by focusing so much on dragons.

It’s funny you mention this sort of dynamic with the women and their dragons bc Rhaenyra and fmo reader have an interesting (imo) conversation about the privileges and disadvantages of being a dragon rider. How ephemeral power can be when you are a woman in the realm. Rhaenyra was never taught how to access power outside of her name and dragon. A great example would be how weird it was (to me) to have a woman that just ripped a baby out of her hop on a dragon to ~scare~ people. I get it was supposed to be a callback to ep 2 but like ???. It’s just funny bc Rhaenyra doesn’t know how to extend any power bc her father was too incompetent to show her (or even do it himself). In Daemon’s words “dreams didn’t make up kings, dragons did”. Which is just ironic. Rhaenyra and dany, frankly through the men in the lives, really never stood a chance. I think that’s why it is funny when people love these women but can’t even point out the clear system in the Targaryen family that in the end negative affects these women. I personally enjoy book dany, I can’t really speak on her show counterpart much. And I’m still eh about how I feel about both book and show Rhaenyra.

The whole soft power versus hard power, in this context. Because people who use hard power tactics (in this case having literal dragons) would maybe look down on those who use soft power (coercion or economic withdrawal). Fear can only take you so far especially against people who already don’t fuck with you. In general I think there are pros and cons to both ways of political strategy. Certain characters can get away on one versus other based on: gender, resources, race, age, etc