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[sakurafire3]

An idea that has been spinning in my head for a long time.

(in book) towards the end of his life, Aegon gained enough strength to walk on his own with the help of a crutch. and I would kill i want to see the scene of his last walk through the castle, during which he is overcome by memories and for a few seconds the images of his loved ones come to life.

he hears the sounds of their voices, in the corridors he sees Jaehaerys laughing, running away from the nanny along the corridors, in Helaena's room he sees her singing for a giggling Maelor in her arms, in the window he notices a proudly smiling criston who approvingly slaps the shoulder of a joyful Aemond, who defeated him for the first time, in front of the entrance to the dining room there are images of the cargyll twins, hotly arguing about something. he opens the door and a picture flashes before his eyes of the dinner hosted in honor of Daeron's arrival. he sees his younger brother saying a toast with a wide smile on his face, next to him he notices the dark top of his uncle's head and a little further away the figure of his grandfather, on the other side of daeron sits Alicent, looking at her son with tender longing. this image didn't last more than a few seconds, but it was so vivid and full of life, as if everything was real now.

at the end of the journey through the past days of the rare serene happiness of the family, traces of tears and a bitter smile are visible on Aegon's face. the past has never let him go, but now he stops running away from it. for the first time in a long time, there is no struggle in his eyes, but quiet humility. he does not know the future, but he feels that this is the end of it. and he gives the order to take him to the sept in order to find peace in his last prayer in the name of the living and the dead.

[sakurafire3]

In honour of @helaenasbestfriend 's insane tags on my post, which inspired this two part trash from my end.

Part 2

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fantasies of regicide. TW: offscreen marital SA in part 2, because that's what doing one's duty as Alicent Hightower pertains.

Part 1/2

"I'm going to bed, Aemma," said the king.

The name rang through the courtyard like a tolling bell. Eyes turn, the beginnings of whispers follow, but some part of Criston cannot believe it truly happened.

He turns his eyes to his Queen.

When he sees what had been concern for her husband frozen still upon her beautiful visage, like a doe's last moments as it was struck in the heart by a hunter's arrow, he knows. And he cannot stop the quickening of his heartbeat, the clench of his jaw, that burning in his mind - not wild and rapid with panic and fear as the fire that had killed the Knight of Kisses. No, this burn was cold, pure rage.

"Shall I see after Queen Alicent, Your Grace?" Ser Harrold asks, pointedly.

The King stops in his tired shuffling, as though he finally noticed his mistake. Criston prays for a mere apology. Even that admission of wrong is better than pretending he had said nothing at all, and perhaps that would be enough to banish these thoughts of bloody dishonour from Criston's mind.

"No, Ser Harrold..." He shuffles along.

Criston watches his Queen's face fall.

"You have the night's watch, Ser Criston," Ser Harrold says. A look of warning as he walks away.

Criston is glaring. He knows it, but he cannot bring himself to care - cannot stop his grip tightening about his sword's leather hilt. The faint creak is defeaning in his ears.

Aemma. After all these years, all the humiliations, the unerring performance of his Queen in her... duties. The suffering.

Aemma.

One stroke, the voice whispers, swift and clean. That is all that's needed. More than he deserves. A fall down the stairs with no one around to hear and help him. They might whisper afterwards, but so be it. Let them. At least she would not need suffer-

"Come, Ser Criston." Her voice brings him back to reality. The horror is only brief.

They leave the courtyard together, sent off by whispers and looks she's grown accustomed to suffering. She holds her head high but she cannot fool Criston, for he had seen the distance in her eyes.

"Something disturbs your peace of mind, Ser," she says later the Red Keep's sept. Her voice is distant, but her attention is upon him, even as she kneels before the Mother's altar.

"It is nothing, my queen."

"Then nothingness has you terribly occupied." She looks at him over her shoulder. "Your silence concerns me, I must confess."

"I do not wish to not disturb the hallowed peace, my queen, that is all."

She gives him a look that almost feels like a plea. She dislikes his avoidance. He averts his eyes to the ground.

"That was unworthy of his grace," he says, impotently.

"He is unwell, his mind muddled," she says, more graceful in the face of injustice than Criston. "Do not hold it against him."

An act.

He hates it. He hates that he cannot punish the king (what a thought for a Kingsguard to harbour.) He hates what she must endure, and that he must endure watching her endure it, as useful in his vigilance as a gargoyle on Dragonstone.

"May I be honest?"

"Always, Good Ser."

"My thoughts disturb me. They too are... unwell."

There is a silence. His confession makes the hairs on his body stand. His heart races at the thought that he might have overstepped. It is one thing to say too much of the Queen's enemies, but her husband the King?

"Will you pray with me then?" she says, unreadable. "That your anger might be abolished?"

Her generosity, her trust, stuns him. Suddenly he cannot help but admire how beautiful she is in her furtive sorrow, and wish that he could see her smile. Banish all her ills and worries away. How long has he watched her suffer them?

"You honour me, your grace..."

She shuffles aside and pats the pillowed floor with a warm smile.

He swallows his heart back down his throat, removes the scabbard from his waist, kneels at her side, and clasps his hands together.

They pray in the comforting silence and stillness of the sept, under the warmth of the sunlight that is coloured rainbow by stained glass. Beside him, her warmth is radiant, crossing the distance between their flesh. It cools the fire in his mind until he is afloat.

He finds himself wishing he could shuffle closer and truly feel her flesh against his, just an arm, that it might comfort her...

But it is unseemly. Inappropriate. Unworthy.

So instead, he prays harder. Not for his own peace of mind, but for the gods to free his queen of her burden as swiftly as possible.

[sakurafire3]

In honour of @helaenasbestfriend 's insane tags on my post, which inspired this two part trash from my end.

Part 1

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fantasies of regicide. TW: offscreen marital SA in part 2, because that's what doing one's duty as Alicent Hightower pertains.

Part 2/2

His prayers go unanswered.

Criston is stone, cold and hard, a gargoyle once more. He does not take his eyes off the wall opposite his post.

Soft creaking. Not his sword's leather hilt.

He thought back to Ser Arlan's oath, the weight of his blade on Criston's shoulders. "In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and the innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to defend all women." He felt the warmth of pride as though he was back in the Marshes at this very moment. The clasp Ser Arlan's hand around his forearm, a clap on his shoulder, and respect from a knight he looked up to all his boyh-

A whimper pierces the creaking of the bed and the King's panting.

It is for his sins that she is being punished, he knows it. The Gods see his desires when he prays to them. The violence. The vengeance. The rage. The love. They see the hearts of all their faithful.

He closes his eyes at the soft, strangled cry.

He would pray for mercy for his Queen, but he's learned his lesson and instead gives prayer for forgiveness, before he goes away inside again.

"Ser Criston!"

The Prince Aemond ran to him with an eagerness not his wont, and he couldn't help but freeze in surprise. "What is it, my prince?"

"Aegon needs your help."

His smile kept Criston from mistaking this for an emergency, but he followed his energetic prince with due speed toward a path he swiftly recognized as leading to Queen Alicent's solar. When he entered, shrieks greeted him, and he sighed at the sight of Princess Helaena, rather calmly, chasing Prince Aegon with an insect of some sort.

"He only wants to meet you, Aegon," she said, wholly sincere.

"Get it the fuck away!"

"Children!" They stopped and a brief wave of embarrassment washes over him that he had spoken to his royal charges in such a manner. But he was also relieved the cacophany stopped. "Princess."

"Hello, Ser Criston."

"Get the she-beast away from me," Aegon commanded, wild-eyed and watching his sister warily.

"An unworthy thing to call your sister," he chided. "Princess, please stop whatever you're doing if it's making Aegon scream? I beseech you. Otherwise some guard must leave their post as I have to stop it."

"Apologies, Ser."

"You're sorry for that but not for me?" Aegon was in disbelief.

From beside him, Aemond laughed, and the sound had Criston suppressing a smile of his own.

The smile broke along with the memory, when the door behind him opens.

He dares not look anywhere but ahead as King Viserys steps out, feet and cane tapping a cadence he has come to despise. His Grace stops before him, glancing, ashamedly perhaps, but he cannot tell for he will not look, cannot, or he might well start to truly consider the voice that is whispering from the dark corners of his mind.

The gods listen, he reminds himself. Remember your oath. Remember your honour. Protect her in this way from him, we cannot in any other.

Mercifully, as though the gods approve of his line of thought, Viserys Targaryen finally averts his eyes and lowered head, and leaves with Ser Harrold in tow.

He had forgotten the Lord Commander was beside him.

"I charge you to protect all women, Ser Arlan's voice said.

The silence was bliss this once, if only for the lack of his Queen's cries. Why the King had been rougher than usual this time, he could not say. Perhaps he missed his Aemma particularly today.

But the silence did not bring him peace much longer, for soon it began to unnerve him, and both his oath and his heart told him to enter her chambers and make certain of her safety, but the truth is that there is no safety he can bring her that is mentionable, and he could not chance that she might be indecent. He could not add to her pain, her humiliation.

He could not.

The agony of these minutes is much the same as it had been in the Boneway, when he awaited Ser Arlan's command to attack the watchtowers, not knowing if he would survive the skirmish.

But his queen breaks it as she breaks all his agonies, when she calls his name.

"Ser Criston."

He finally looks away from the wall, and finds his Queen pristine, in one of her mother's old green dresses. They always comfort her, and she keeps them in exceptional condition.

"My queen." His voice is strangled, but he finally breathes again.

Her sorrow is statuesque. She spares him a smile - and it is only now that he notices her upper lip is split.

His cold fury must be evident. "My own doing, not my husband's."

For the better, or I would have made you a widow. His eyes widen and he quickly averts his gaze. Damned fool! Banish these thoughts before she is punished any further for your-

"Please," she says, and he starts as her finger brushes his fist. "I would not have you worry for me, Ser."

"It is my duty," he says, "as your protector."

"And this is mine," she says. Her smile pierces his heart like a knife. "Put it from your mind. Please."

Despite her calm, he recognizes her need, the desperation in her eyes, and finds he is capable of anything to fulfil it. Even forgetting the King's sins. "As you command."

"Will you pray with me? At the sept? I'm afraid I am in no state to be seen by the children yet."

"You honour me, your grace."

Her smile becomes a little less tired, and his own agony abates some as they make their way to the sept that had become his haven these past years. He ignores the failure in her step, for fear of the thoughts that would arise if he didn't.

The prayer is small solace tonight. But her presence, the realness and safety of her being beside him after having to listen to... her duties, more than makes up for it. He finds himself thinking more of her bitten, bloody lip than the words of prayer his mother had taught him. Today they knelt before the Maiden, and he catches part of her words under her breath.

She prays for a child to come to life, and its health to be good.

It is a prayer in which he joins. For even this child would be dear to him as Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond already are. A light in the darkness. The only good to come from Viserys Targaryen, yet but a drop in the ocean that is his Good Queen Alicent.

"Will you tell me what plagues you, Ser?" she says, waiting for him by the door of the sept when they've finished their prayer. He's looping his scabbard about his waist.

"Forgive me." He promised to put the incident out of his mind, yet words are wind. He cannot help but be haunted.

"There is nothing to forgive." She looks down, suddenly uncertain - for the first time this whole night, he is surprised to realize. "If you wish to speak, Ser Criston... I am here."

Disbelief. That's what he's feeling. He knows this - this, this is an offering of trust. An open hand extended. And his Queen is asking for his.

Gods, if he had known earlier-

"Of course, my queen. It is merely... I..."

"Yes?" Her uncertainty is replaced with relief, and curiosity.

"I fear I am at fault."

"At fault? Whatever for?"

He looks down, swallows the lump in his throat. "The gods see and hear all. We cannot hide our hearts from them, even if we can hide it from ourselves. I... the gods punish you for my thoughts. The... The unwell thoughts... that I spoke of."

When he finds the courage to look up, she watches him with soft, large eyes, and greets his confession with the kindest of smiles. "Sweet Ser... you are a fool."

His mind blanks. Fool? Sweet Ser?

His faculties are not helped when she steps closer. The moonlight through the stained glass is paler than the daylight's, and it enhances her beauty immeasurably, her skin and the auburn of her hair.

"This is not punishment," she says. "It is the duty of all wives, from Dorne to the Wall. I assure you that I have had similar nights long before I took you in my service. You are not at fault for my... pains."

He nods, feeling like a fool, and not at all sweet. Worse, selfish. He should be comforting her, not the other way about. "Of course..."

She is still smiling. His heart races. "Your concern is most welcome, however. You are a dear friend, Ser Criston."

"You honour me," he rasps.

"And you me."

"No," he shakes his head. "My thoughts-"

"Are only because you care for me, as a friend would."

The way she says the word friend... there is no doubt left in him. She knows, yet she accepts it. Gods be good. Madness grips him.

"Ask me to end your suffering."

She does not flinch, wonder, or turn. His Queen knows precisely what he is saying, and all she does is smile. It is so sorrowful the lump in his throat returns. "I cannot."

He shuts his eyes. He nods. "Of course. Forgive me, he is your king husband, I should never have- I am a beast, Your Grace, wild with fear and-"

She breathes a quiet laugh. "You do not understand, Ser. It is not for my husband I am concerned."

Queen Alicent does not elaborate in the silence, and it is all the explanation he needs. The air betwixt them is intoxicating. "They would not know it was by another's hand."

"I cannot chance that."

"Even if I was discovered, I would never give your name, not even to the Lord Confessor himself."

"Discovery does not frighten me. It is the loss of you I could not bear, dear friend. Who, Ser, would pray with me in this sept after the king's visits? Who could I trust to safeguard my children's lives?"

"... I understand." He did, truly. How long had she felt...

Her fingers weave through his, her eyes close as though in rest or repose. He is suddenly starved for nearness, and leans forward while she does the same.

His forehead rests against hers. Her warmth, the gentleness of her hands, so abiding and comforting. Her tired breath, the sweetest sound he knows.

They remain so, drawing strength from each other, until minutes pass. Or hours.

When finally they part, she looks at him with such fondness and trust his heart feels like to burst from it.

"We should go to the solar, Ser Criston, before the children go mad from eagerness."

The mention of them breaks him out of it enough that he finds his voice. "Eagerness?"

She laughs beautifully. "Oh, yes, I forgot. Helaena intends to surprise you with an insect from the Dornish Marshes. Be certain to act surprised."

He grins. How delightful. "As Her Grace commands."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, he recalls a tale he had heard of the gargoyles of Dragonstone, that they were more than they seemed. It is said that one day, the stone dragons would awaken. Some terrible battle against a foe, he couldn't recall.

Criston Cole was no dragon. Just one of the many grotesques. But he knew how to fight.

And when he saw in the training yard how the King favored the Darklyn knight, he knew precisely how to avenge his queen's pains.

Ser Rolland never breathed painlessly again.

[sakurafire3]

I need therapy

Summary: As Helaena loses herself in grief, Aegon tries to do what he can to save her. One night, she escapes on her dragon to end it all, and Aegon has to find her and bring her back home, back to him. ~3.6k words

Note: I am the slowest, worst writer I know but I am fueled to write more due to spite since I hate how HotD is going so far. So thank you Condal! Warnings for too much sadness.

[sakurafire3]

Now I need a happy AU

The horror that is Jaehaerys Targaryen's last moments.  You're a mere child, a boy, a twin, your father’s sun and your mother’s moon.  You’re asleep, dreaming of pony riding and dragon rearing, and then something covers your mouth; it doesn’t feel like your mother’s hands, your mother’s hands are small and soft, her hands don’t feel like this.  And when you open your eyes, you see strangers enveloped in darkness, and then all you feel is agony.

[sakurafire3]

What the fuck did I just listen to???

Alicent did not have a “loving” marriage with Viserys. He literally fucking RAPED her SINCE SHE WAS 15 YEARS OLD.

The poor woman probably developed Stockholm Syndrome and some sort of codependency with her rapist as a means of surviving the abuse and neglect she suffered. The men around her, EXCEPT FOR CRISTON COLE, used her for their own sick fantasies and political gain!!

I don't care what the fuck TB says, but Alicent has a RIGHT to have consensual sex with someone she can trust WITHOUT BEING MOCKED FOR IT, and the same goes for Criston. It's not something she deserves just because of the abuse she's been through or the duty she's suffered in silence. It doesn't matter if both of them are hypocrites or not. It doesn't matter if you think she's an evil mastermind or a manipulative bitch, or a mean step-mommy to your Rhae Rhae.

IT'S LITERALLY A FUCKING HUMAN RIGHT!

I wouldn't wish anyone to go through what Alicent went through, even if that person was the worst thing I came across in my life. But, that's just me, I guess...

This seriously shouldn't be so fucking hard to comprehend for adults with fully functioning brains.

Video @alicentsecretstan

[sakurafire3]

I relate to Alicent so much becos I too would let my hot lancelot-coded kingsguard eat my pussy out the moment my decrepit decaying walking corpse of a husband, my bff's father who married me when I was still a fucking child btw, shuffled off this godforsaken mortal coil

[sakurafire3]

COURTLY LOVE AT ITS FINEST!

This is Alicent giving Criston her handkerchief as a token of her love and affection and a symbol of remembrance as he leaves for war.

My pookies ARE IN LOVE

[sakurafire3]

So I love how this is reverse simbolism of Rhaenyra and Cole scene. I think it hints that is not just sex for them. Because there is a level of care here. She putting his cloak. Because is away as well she uses to protect him and their relationship when he kills people for her.

There is so much things here that are unspoken between them. The tension here was stronger than the actual sex scenes lmao. The earnings of both sides but specially he wanting to say something but he knows she is not ready yet.

She lies to herself saying this would be the last time and he isn't looking directly at her eyes because he knows is not. I just love how the silence and the unspoken here says way more than actual dialogue.

[sakurafire3]

Alicole rushed sex scenes are tempting me to make a 10 chapters fic with over 10k words each chapter and make it as slow burn as possible with so much tension

Condal can only dream of this

[sakurafire3]

They were the only ones who understood each other. They were both first learning to ride on their dragons, when they were forced to marry at a young age. Her thirteen, him fifteen. They were both not truly accepted by their father - firstborn son, yet not named heir; a dreamer, but with visions no one can discern, not even herself. Used as a vessel for your grandfather's ambition. Used as the womb that will bear your brother heirs for him to strengthen his claim against your firstborn sister's sons of questionable origin.

Even then, under the weight of these, they both have these perfect, beautiful children, a girl and a boy. A new hope and a promise of another beginning. Something they can call their own - neither Targaryen nor Hightower but just theirs. They don't dress them in green or in red or black, but in the colors of their dragons - gold and the blue of the sky and the shades in between. Even in their own shortcomings and youth they tried their best to raise them with the love and recognition they didn't receive.

Perhaps, he can raise his son better than his father did for him. Maybe, he would be a good king if he can make his heir a better one. He is king now and they are fine now. The pain has ended and we can begin again. Don't be afraid, he had promised her.

They killed the boy.

He broke that promise. He will never forgive himself. He's failed as a king, as a husband, as her brother. She was alone and unprotected, when the enemy lay their silent trap, like a ratcatcher would. He understood perfectly why she acted the way she did. He wants to reach her, but she has retreated so far within her grief. The only thing he can do is rage.

I have been a terrible husband, a careless brother. I will be a cruel, ruthless king to our enemies - I will murder them with my bare hands. I will lay waste to their kingdoms. I will kill for you. And this time, he will make it true.

[sakurafire3]

[sakurafire3]

Gentle reminder that Alicent could have outed Rhaenyra when Criston told her about their night together in order to bring her father back to court, but she did not do so because:

1. she did not want to inflict irreparable damage to her friend, in spite of what she put her through

2. she valued Criston’s life, despite barely knowing him, who would have been executed had she told Viserys the truth

And she still refused to advance her son for the Iron Throne, even if Rhaenyra kept pushing him down the line of succession by giving birth to bastards and branding them as legitimate, up to the point when Rhaenyra felt that she and her children did not have to suffer any consequences for disabling Alicent’s child.

But sure, she’s the traitorous hypocrite.

[sakurafire3]

If I have to hear one more person talk about how Alicole were having sex in Rha*nyra’s room and how they’re soooo obsessed with her and how they think about her when they do it I’m going to scream LITERALLY SHUT UP NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT RHA*NYRA LET MY BABIES FUCK AND BE IN LOVE IN PEACE THEY COULD NOT GIVE TWO SHITS LESS ABOUT RHA*NYRA STAY OUT OF THE ALICOLE TAG YA WEIRDOS

[sakurafire3]

So…. I have seen the episode now. Here are some thoughts: SPOILERS AHEAD BE WARNED:

- Criston eating Alicent out was not on my Bingo Card for today

- Aegon definitely gets a “Westeros best dad” mug from me after this

- Aemond… talented, brilliant,amazing etc. Got nothing else to add.

- Jahaerys (RIP) was literally the sweetest kid ever and I cried waterfalls at the end of the episode

- sweet Helaena did not deserve any of this

- I absolutely ADORED the scene at the council meeting when Aegon said “I think he wants a ride. A pony ride.” He loved that kid so much!

- Conclusion: I will support every single war crime the Greens will commit in the next episodes. Aeg deserves to avenge his boy

- Oh and before I forget… FUCK YOU DAEMON TARGARYEN AND FUCK YOU BLOOD&CHEESE

[sakurafire3]

Adult!Cleon meeting 1998!Cleon:

younger Claire: oh... is that Leon?

adult Claire: yeah...!

youngerClaire: omg sometimes I can't stand his ass, he's seriously annoying. does he ever-

adult Claire: he's our husband.

younger Claire:

younger Claire: huh

younger Claire: WDYM HE'S OUR HUSBAND??? HOW? WHEN? WHY?!!! pls say sike rn....

adult Claire:

younger Leon: oh, dude. do we ever stop working? you look so old

adult Leon: 💔

younger Leon: oh would you look at that. isn't that thee Claire Redfield?

adult Leon: yep, Mrs. Kennedy in person ;)

younger Leon: looking good huh

younger Leon:

younger Leon: wait, did you just say Mrs. Kennedy-

[sakurafire3]

So much this

I ship Alicole so much (!!!) so, yea, I'd love for them to be canon/for the show to give us Alicole material. If they kiss - great. If they have sex...I mean, as long as my girl Alicent is enjoying herself, you know?

But the thing is...aghhh. Does it have to be a sex scene? Are people really that unimaginative? Does every goddamn emotionally intimate, devoted relationship between a man and a woman who aren't immediate family or otherwise loudly proclaiming themselves to be strictly platonic (with other sexual partners & "we're like siblings!1!" etc) have to be centered around fucking? Can't we have something else just once?