#( i wonder what daenerys saw )

[downs1de-has-moved]

PROMPTS FOR LIES, DECEIT, AND VILLAINY

@draconisa: "You believe me, don't you?"

Sam observes her closely, studying her shifting expressions as she attempts to make sense of her experience.

Sitting across from her on the living room couch, dressed head to toe in a black suit with which he poses as an FBI agent, Sam feels like a fish out of water, especially without his brother to cover for him if he makes a mistake.

Oh well, he’ll have to avoid making any.

"I believe you."

Sam’s voice is steady and reassuring. He leans forward, trying to project the calm authority he’s seen Dean master so well.

"But I need you to tell me everything--from the beginning."

[esther-dot]

when long night falls 6k

Appearances can be deceiving, and Jon is not yet used to discerning truths from lies. Her hair is brown enough, even in the candlelight, where Sansa’s was red. Ygritte was kissed by fire, as was Sansa. Neither had been lucky.

All That We Forgot 16k by @rumaan

The Wall has fallen, the North has fled south, and Stannis Baratheon sends a delegation to the Vale of Arryn, the last untouched region of Westeros to seek their aid against the Others. A delegation that includes Lord Commander Snow. What will this mean for Alayne Stone?

The Thawing of Winter 100k by @jade-masquerade

Sansa knew Jon married her—married Alayne—for the Vale, or maybe, because of his past, he saw her as a fellow bastard and meant to raise her up the same as his people did for him, how they chose Lord Eddard’s sole surviving son as King in the North. But when she looked at him, she saw nothing of the sort in his eyes, only a flash of desire, the way a man ought to look at his wife, before he steadied his gaze. If this was truly wrong, she wondered, then why did the gods let it feel so right? corresponding moodboard by @the-lords-kiss corresponding moodboard by @sunbeamsandmoonrays corresponding gif by @readingisloving

Came Down the Mountain 12k by @darkmagyk

Alayne Stone makes a name for herself during the Long Night by feeding the troops of the army of the living. But after the Dawn Breaks, her father takes to back up to the Eyrie, even as she hears that a new Stark has taken Winterfell, a young Lord named Brandon. But whatever Petyr Baelish had planned for her must change with Daenerys Targrayen flies up to them on dragon back with a offer the woman who is Sansa Stark is desperate to refuse. corresponding moodboard by @the-lords-kiss

maybe everything that dies, some day comes back 1k orphaned

Following his resurrection, Jon leads a retinue of men to gather supplies and new recruits where they can find them. He doesn’t expect to find anything else along the way — that is, until they reach the Vale, where the echoes of harp strings can be heard in the middle of the night, and a bastard girl in the Eyrie strikes a chord within Jon he thought to be long vanished.

You lied to me ficlet by @justadram

“You lied to me,” Jon pants, swinging his legs over the side of her narrow bed and sinking his head into his hands.

Stone and Snow 1k by @jonsastan

“My daughter, Alayne Stone.” Petyr Baelish’s voice exuded charm and submission. The Dragon Queen did not seem impressed. Alayne dipped into a low curtsy, focusing her eyes on the Queen’s small feet. Such mighty ambition walked through the world on such tiny feet. “Your grace.” She murmured. The Queen looked at her for a long moment, longer than royalty looked at a bastard. “You’re a pretty little bird.” Still a bird. Alayne thought before scolding herself. Not before, only now. You were never a little bird in a gilded cage. You are bastard born and bastard brave.

cover your eyes (do i feel right, darling?) 12k @majicmarker

Jon Snow’s arrival at the Vale is met with trepidation and intrigue; after all, what could this bastard-come-prince want in this far-off corner of his kingdom? But Jon has heard the whispers that the Eyrie’s prized beauty is not a bastard of Littlefinger’s at all, but the daughter of Winterfell—and Jon means to steal her away.

Underneath, All Along ficlet by @myrish-lace-love

Jon steals Sansa from the Vale, but for reasons of her own, she'd like to stay Alayne a little longer. Alayne, after all, can wish for the company of her handsome traveling companion at night.

Alayne AU 4k by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

A girl in grey on a dying horse the stranger may be, but she was not his sister. The Red Woman gave him a false prophecy…and false hope, it seemed. So why was he still transfixed? corresponding moodboard

frostfire ficlet by @zoyaalinas

jon and alayne at the eyrie. vale au. post parentage reveal.

Who am I darling, to you? ficlets 1, 2 by @blackholeofprocrastination

When Jon’s is sent to treat with the Lords of the Vale, he finds someone unexpected on the weirwood throne.

as i stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge 12k

Jon travels to the Vale to find allies in the fight against the army of the dead.

godless 3k by @charmtion

Alayne. He tastes the word. Lets it roll on his tongue like a plum-stone, the scraps of flesh still sweet on it.

Lies/Luck 1k by @phosphorescent-naidheachd

“Have we met before?” he asked, the words leaving his lips before he could think them through.

My Maid of Stone 11k WIP by @cappymightwrite

It was a near windless half-hour of waiting. Of only her cloak and hair occasionally moving, her body as rooted as a tree. Later she would remember this day mostly as metals. Silver of the valley. Iron of the rocks and the clouds. Zinc of the evening storm in its full fury. Rare gold of the sky as it chose now to break open. Her silence matched her stillness, until at last, there, out of the mist: marching men. * Or, a newly crowned King in the North comes to the Gates of the Moon, unaware of what he will find there…

if i can't relate to you anymore, then who am i related to? 13k by @jonsaslove

Alayne watches him. She knows. In her bones she knows. But her mouth doesn’t let her form the words. Her mind doesn’t let her consciously acknowledge it. Because it cannot be, it can never be. If she lets herself accept the startling truth she can't unknow it, and then every carefully crafted facade will come crashing down. Because the man is Jon Snow. And Jon Snow can’t know that she is Sansa Stark. (Because she’s not. She’s Alayne Stone. And somehow that’s more dangerous). -- Or; Jon comes to the Eyrie. Alayne remembers.

Stone and Snow 1k by @alemoncakelife

Jon Snow meets Alayne Stone corresponding edit

Family Ties 2k by @framboise-fics

Her husband had her father thrown out of the Moon Door. Her husband is her brother. Her brother is her cousin. Daughter, sister, cousin, wife. Who is she supposed to be? She will let her husband tell her, she supposes.

what one finds in the snow 1k by @amymel86

The Eyrie is perhaps the most peculiar castle Jon has visited as Lord Commander, nestled high in the Mountains of the Moon, surrounded by nothing but air, craggy rocks and soaring birds.

I Remember (I Remember) 1k by @hilarychuff

“That’s pretty,” Jon says, and her heart thumps hard in her chest.

What Lies Beneath Her Skin 100k by @chispas-and-broken-bindings

Sansa Stark returns to a fractured North for the first time since traveling south as a young child to be fostered by her Aunt Lysa in King's Landing. Stannis Baratheon's troops have broken against the walls of Winterfell, starved and weakened by the relentless northern storms - their King's fate unknown. Roose Bolton lies dead within Winterfell's walls as his bastard, Ramsey Snow dances a bloody minuet with Jon Snow, the half-brother whom she has never met, and his rag-tag band of wildlings in the northern woods. Petyr promises that it's time for a true Stark to return and bring these mongrels to heel, with the might of the Vale behind her. Yet, the girl does not feel like a true Stark, nor does she know how to break free from Littlefinger's claws. A chance encounter sets her on course to Jon Snow's war camp, where disguised as Alayne, she helps the resurrected King-in-the-North unite the North and become Sansa Stark once again.

Rosemary (For Remembrance) 7k by @orangeflavoryawp

“’My daughter, Alayne Stone,’ Baelish repeats, motioning toward her, almost daring in his tone. Jon’s eyes slip back to Sansa’s.” - Jon and Sansa. What winter means in a world that teaches them to forget.

King Jon & Alayne ficlets 1, 2 by @vivilove-jonsa

“Jon would never harm me.” “How can you know that, sweetling?  Years have passed since you last saw one another.  You’re not the girl you were when you left Winterfell no more than he is the boy you knew…and I wasn’t aware you were ever that close to begin with.”

Buried under with my desires 2k by @captainbee89

Post resurrected Jon is sent to the vale to get an allegiance on Stannis' behalf. While there, he discovers a long lost part of his past, and maybe his future.

Art: Have we met before?, A familiar face, More beautiful than me? by @leulahart, Reflections of Aemon and Naerys, Should two bastards hookup or what? by @jonsawilldanceanon, The Bastard and the Lord Commander by @palominojacoby ,The Lord Commander and the bastard of the Vale, Alayne and Jon by @amunetmana, Alayne and Jon by @melinaillustrations, Alayne by @songofaurora If he calls me his daughter one more time... by @asoiastarks , Alayne Stone by knightmarescape

Edits: Charm Him. Entrance Him. Bewitch Him. Stone & Snow by @theirwinterfell, Stone was a bastard's name i'm alayne, i must remain alayne because she's stronger by @countessmaryarostova, Jon x Alayne by @paloma-nevada, Jon rides to the Vale by @lunaathorne , Oh it would be so sweet to see him by @whiteraven0001

Gifsets: May I wear your favor? by @alaynestcnes, The Brooding Bastards by @jonstarks, Jon x Alayne, Sansa loved to dance..., A Ghost wolf... by @thewindsofwolves, She had not thought of Jon in ages by @akarena, Oh it would be so sweet, Sansa Stark went up the mountain by @kitnjon, Alayne & Jon by @paloma-nevada , I am a bastard now just like him... But of course that could never be by @bericdondarrion , It sounds like a wolf by @fromtheboundlesssea , A ghost wolf by @kummittelemaanninja , Alayne Stone and Jon Snow parallels by @jonsansasource

Shout out to the post where the Jon x Alayne ship name was declared to be Jolayne (And I suppose that makes this medieval version of Jolene pertinent!)

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE -SALTY TEENS - POST CANON - RICKON LIVES

[novaursa]

Legacy (the night is long)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Be aware of the unspecified time jumps and how canon events don't add up with the story's timeline.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: sun over the capital

- Next part: dark wings

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Jorah Mormont approached Daenerys' tent, with a letter in his hand. The parchment was sealed with an unfamiliar sigil, one that bore neither the lion of Lannister nor the dragon of House Targaryen. Daenerys looked up, curiosity flaring in her eyes as Jorah handed her the letter.

"This arrived, Your Grace," Jorah said quietly, his tone cautious. "It was smuggled into the camp by Varys's contacts. I thought you should have it at once."

Daenerys took the letter, turning it over in her hands, her fingers brushing across the wax seal. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment carefully, her gaze settling on the words that began to reveal themselves. She read, her eyes widening as the truth of the letter began to sink in.

My dearest sister, the letter began, in a handwriting that was elegant yet steady. You do not know me, but I have long known of you. My name is Y/N, and though fate has kept us apart, we share the blood of the dragon.

Daenerys felt her breath hitch as she continued reading, taking in every word with reverence.

I write to you from Westeros, where I find myself bound in an unexpected alliance. I am now Lady Y/N Lannister, married to Lord Tywin, who sees in me both a strength of my own and a promise of loyalty to House Lannister. But know this—my heart remains true to our blood, our lineage. You are not alone, Daenerys. Though we are separated by sea and circumstance, you have a sister here who thinks of you, who carries your memory, even though we have yet to meet.

Daenerys’s hands trembled slightly as she lowered the letter, her mind racing, filled with emotions she couldn’t quite name. This was her sister—a sister she had never known, reaching out to her across the world. The realization felt both profound and bittersweet.

Noticing her expression, Jorah leaned forward, concern etched in his brow. "Your Grace," he asked gently, "what is it? Who wrote to you?"

Daenerys took a steadying breath, her gaze unfocused as she tried to process what she had read. "It’s… from my sister," she whispered, almost as if saying it aloud would make it more real. "A sister I’ve never met. Her name is Y/N, and she’s… married to Tywin Lannister."

Jorah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, though he masked it quickly. "Tywin Lannister," he murmured, his tone both shocked and wary. "I had heard rumors of his new marriage, but I never expected it to be to a Targaryen."

Daenerys looked at him, her expression filled with a mixture of wonder and sadness. "She says she’s thought of me. That I am not alone." She paused, her voice softening. "Did you ever see her, Jorah? In the North, when she was a ward at Winterfell?"

Jorah thought for a moment, casting his mind back over the years. "Yes, Your Grace," he said quietly. "I saw her once, many years ago. I was a young man then, visiting Winterfell on some matter for my father, Lord Jeor. She would have been just a girl then, but she had a certain… presence."

Daenerys leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. "Tell me about her."

Jorah smiled faintly, recalling the memory as if dusting off an old, cherished book. "She was quiet, but there was a strength in her that couldn’t be ignored. She carried herself with grace, even then—a grace I could see was not learned from the North. She had the look of a Targaryen, unmistakable silver hair and violet eyes, and yet there was something solemn about her. I remember thinking she seemed like she carried a great weight, even as a young girl."

He paused, his gaze distant as he remembered. "The Stark children seemed to adore her. Robb Stark, Jon Snow… they were just boys then, but she was close to them. And Arya—she followed her around like a shadow. Y/N took Jon under her wing, I remember. It was as if she had a purpose that even she couldn’t yet name."

Daenerys listened, her heart aching with each word. "So she was… loved," she murmured, almost to herself. "She wasn’t alone."

Jorah nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "No, she wasn’t. She became a part of Winterfell. The North can be a harsh place, but it’s loyal to those who earn its trust. And she earned it."

Daenerys looked down at the letter again, a sense of warmth filling her despite the bittersweet nature of it. "I wonder what kind of life she has now… married to Tywin Lannister of all people."

Jorah’s expression darkened, his voice cautious. "Tywin Lannister is a calculating man, Your Grace. He sees people as assets, tools to be used for his legacy. I don’t doubt he sees her in the same way. But your sister must be strong—she survived Winterfell, and she made a place for herself there. She’ll find a way to endure in the Red Keep, too."

Daenerys nodded slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the letter as though she could feel her sister’s presence through the words. "She says that her heart remains true to our blood," she murmured, her eyes fierce with newfound determination. "I may be in Essos, and she may be bound to the Lannisters, but we are Targaryens. We are still family."

Jorah’s gaze softened, admiration in his eyes. "A family reunited, perhaps. Someday."

Daenerys looked up at him, a spark of hope igniting in her heart. "Yes. Someday," she agreed softly. She folded the letter carefully, tucking it close to her heart. "Until then, I will remember her words—and the promise that we are not alone."

Wrapped in a plain, dark cloak that concealed your features, you made your way through the narrow, winding streets of King’s Landing, keeping your gaze low as Ser Barristan Selmy walked by your side, ever vigilant. The sky was cast in shades of twilight, the lingering golden glow of the sunset slipping away, giving way to the shadows of the evening.

You cast a glance at Barristan, who looked deeply displeased, his brow furrowed in a way you’d rarely seen. He’d been silent most of the journey, but as the brothel finally came into view, he couldn’t help himself.

“My lady,” he murmured, his tone respectful yet firm, “this… this place is beneath you. Surely, a prince could arrange to meet somewhere more dignified.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, though it was tinged with a hint of irony. “Knowing Oberyn, I suspect he chose this location precisely for that reason, Ser Barristan,” you replied softly. “It amuses him, I imagine, to think of a Lannister bride stepping into a place like this.”

Barristan’s disapproving look didn’t waver, but he remained quiet as you pushed open the heavy door, stepping inside the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of incense and perfumed oils, mingling with the low hum of laughter and whispers from the patrons scattered around. It was an ambiance that spoke of indulgence and secrecy, and yet, you felt a certain comfort in its anonymity.

In the center of the room, reclining on a plush chaise, was Oberyn Martell, dressed in his usual vibrant colors, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he spotted you. At his side, with a quiet, knowing smile, sat Ellaria Sand, her gaze warm yet calculating as she took you in.

“Well, well,” Oberyn drawled, his voice like silk as he looked you up and down, noting the plainness of your disguise with a smirk. “The new Lady Lannister gracing us with her presence, in such humble surroundings. I must say, Y/N, marriage has brought you to… interesting places.”

You smiled, pulling back your hood and allowing him to see your face fully. “And you’ve always had a taste for… unconventional meeting places, Oberyn. You haven’t changed.”

Ellaria laughed softly, her gaze resting on you with curiosity. “Tywin’s bride herself,” she mused, her tone smooth. “I must admit, I didn’t think I’d ever see a Targaryen in Lannister colors. How curious fate can be.”

You offered her a polite nod, though you couldn’t miss the slight bitterness beneath her words. “Lady Ellaria. I suspect fate has played its hand here more than once.”

Oberyn watched you, his eyes glinting with something unreadable as he poured himself a glass of wine. He gestured for you to join them, patting the seat beside him. “Come, sit with us. We have much to discuss, I think. So many bonds between our families, so many… tragedies.”

The words were spoken lightly, but they held a sharp edge that settled uneasily in your chest. You took a seat, Barristan standing protectively behind you, his presence a reassuring reminder of unwavering loyalty and honor.

Oberyn regarded you for a long moment, his smile fading as he tilted his head thoughtfully. “And so here you are, Lady Lannister, wife to the very man responsible for the destruction of both our families. Does that sit well with you?”

You met his gaze steadily, though the weight of his words pressed heavily on you. “Oberyn,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “you know as well as I do that we are often given choices… with very limited options.”

He leaned closer, his voice lowering, his tone soft but laced with bitterness. “I suppose you know that better than most. But tell me, does Tywin Lannister whisper anything to you in those quiet hours about the screams of Elia, of her children? Does he confess his sins to you as if they might be absolved?”

Your heart pounded, the familiar ache resurfacing with each word. You knew well the horrors he spoke of; they had haunted you ever since you first learned of your family’s brutal end. You lowered your gaze, struggling to maintain composure. “I have no need to hear it from him,” you whispered, your voice barely steady. “I remember all too well, Oberyn.”

Oberyn’s expression softened just slightly, though his eyes remained sharp. “And yet, here you are, tied to him. You, a Targaryen, bound to the man whose legacy is soaked in blood—our blood. Elia, Rhaegar, their children… they should be here, living, and yet their lives were ended so that your husband could secure his power.”

A shuddering breath escaped you, and you held up a hand, your voice trembling. “Please, Oberyn… I do not wish to hear more.”

For a moment, he studied you, his anger giving way to a flicker of understanding, though it did not diminish the fire in his gaze. “Very well,” he said, his voice softening. “I can see it pains you as it pains me. But make no mistake—I am here in King’s Landing for two things.”

You looked up at him, the question clear in your eyes. “And what would those be?”

“Vengeance,” he said, the word slipping from his lips with the weight of years behind it. “For Elia. For her children.” His gaze hardened, his voice carrying a quiet, lethal promise. “Justice, however long it takes, however I may have to find it.”

Your heart twisted as he spoke, a mixture of fear and empathy welling up inside you. “And the second reason?” you asked, almost dreading the answer.

Oberyn’s lips curled into a smile, though it lacked warmth. “Why, the royal wedding, of course,” he replied with feigned cheer. “A grand occasion, the whole realm gathered to watch the next king unite with his bride. The perfect stage for anyone with a purpose… and the perfect place to leave an impression.”

Ellaria, who had been watching silently, leaned forward, placing a comforting hand on Oberyn’s arm. “We have waited a long time, and now, we are here. The world will remember what was done to our family.”

You sat in silence, absorbing their words, understanding the unspoken intentions that lay beneath them. There was no mistaking Oberyn’s resolve, nor Ellaria’s quiet fury. You felt caught between two worlds—the blood of your family calling for vengeance, and the precarious ties that now bound you to House Lannister.

“Oberyn,” you said softly, meeting his gaze, “I… I do not ask for forgiveness, nor can I pretend that anything I do could ever make amends for what happened to your sister. But I hope that you know… I have never forgotten. I have never betrayed our blood.”

Oberyn’s expression softened, a shadow of compassion in his eyes. “I know,” he replied quietly. “I don’t blame you, Y/N. But I am not here to forgive, either.”

You nodded, a heavy silence settling over you both. The weight of the past hung thick in the air, filling the space between you, an invisible chasm that could never truly be crossed. Yet, even in that silence, there was an understanding, a recognition of shared loss and the scars it left behind.

Finally, Oberyn’s expression shifted, a flicker of his old charm resurfacing as he gave you a sardonic smile. “But tell me, Lady Lannister—how does it feel to bear that name? To share the bed of the man who holds our fates in his hands?”

You managed a faint, humorless smile, your voice soft but steady. “It feels… like survival, Oberyn. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.”

He chuckled, though there was no real amusement in it. “Survival,” he echoed. “A fitting answer, I suppose. Just remember, Y/N… survival comes with a price.”

As he leaned back, pouring another glass of wine, Ellaria’s gaze softened as she watched you, her voice gentle. “If you ever need allies, Y/N… remember that we understand you, more than the lions ever could.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle deep within you. Here, in this darkened brothel, surrounded by the bitterness of shared pain and the fire of quiet vengeance, you felt a strange sense of kinship—a bond forged in blood, loss, and the relentless desire for justice.

And as you rose to leave, with Barristan by your side, you carried with you the weight of their words, their promise, and the unspoken knowledge that, though you wore the colors of a lion, the blood of the dragon and the Martell ties would never truly let you go.

In the quiet shadows of his private solar, Tywin sat at his desk, his fingers steepled as he listened to Littlefinger’s report, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Lord Baelish, standing just a few paces away, shifted his weight, his usual smooth smile in place, though his eyes were sharp, always watching, always calculating.

“The men you stationed around the brothel have remained vigilant, Lord Tywin,” Littlefinger reported, his tone measured. “No disturbances to speak of—at least, none beyond what’s customary in a place like that.” He allowed himself a wry smile, though Tywin’s cold gaze did little to encourage it.

Tywin’s gaze was fixed on a map stretched across his desk, though it was clear his thoughts lay elsewhere. “Good,” he replied curtly. “My wife’s safety is paramount. It is imperative that Prince Oberyn and his paramour understand that they are in King’s Landing at my discretion, not theirs.”

Littlefinger’s eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief. “Ah, Prince Oberyn. Quite the guest of honor, isn’t he?” He folded his hands neatly, his gaze never leaving Tywin’s. “Dorne is rarely so cooperative when it comes to Lannister matters. One has to wonder what they hope to accomplish by bringing him to the capital now.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Oberyn’s presence here is a reminder of the alliance Dorne holds with the crown,” he stated, his tone as sharp as a blade. “They may smile and offer pleasantries, but they haven’t forgotten what happened to Elia, nor will they. I suspect Oberyn is here not only to attend the royal wedding but to assess how far we can be pushed.”

Littlefinger tilted his head, a glimmer of intrigue in his gaze. “And what do you intend to do about it, my lord?”

Tywin looked up, his eyes cold and calculating. “For now, we extend them the courtesy due to their status. The Martells are careful, and they won’t risk open defiance… yet.” He allowed himself a pause, studying Baelish’s expression as he continued. “But make no mistake—Oberyn and his ilk must be reminded that this is my realm. The Red Keep is not a playground for Dornish revenge fantasies.”

Baelish nodded slowly, a small smile curving his lips. “The Dornish are known for their tempers, after all. And Oberyn is as infamous for his passions as he is for his fighting skills. One might say he’s an ideal instrument to incite… disorder, if left unchecked.”

Tywin’s gaze remained unyielding, his tone filled with quiet disdain. “Disorder is something I do not tolerate. Prince Oberyn will have to curb his impulses while he’s in my city, or he will be reminded of the consequences of forgetting one’s place.” He leaned back, his gaze sharpening. “You are to keep your eyes on him, Baelish. Any shift in his intentions, any move that hints at more than courtesy—report it to me directly.”

Littlefinger inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “Of course, my lord. Though one has to wonder… might it not serve House Lannister’s interests to… encourage Oberyn’s passions in a more controlled setting? A bit of a… release valve, if you will.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “You mean to tempt him into some reckless act, a slip of temper that could justify an official response.”

Baelish allowed himself a slight shrug, his expression one of feigned innocence. “Not as crude as that, Lord Tywin, of course. But… Dorne is known for its pride. Oberyn is unlikely to let slights lie—he’ll strike if prodded.”

Tywin considered this, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. “Oberyn Martell is not a fool,” he said slowly. “He knows we are watching him, and he knows the cost of defiance. But if he were… convinced to show his hand, to reveal just how far he’s willing to go—perhaps, yes, that would indeed serve a purpose.”

Littlefinger’s smile grew a fraction wider, his tone light and conspiratorial. “I may have just the contacts, my lord. A few whispers, a few… strategic pressures in the right quarters. Prince Oberyn may find himself slightly less at ease than he hoped.”

Tywin’s gaze held a glint of satisfaction, though he remained as stoic as ever. “Very well. Proceed. But ensure it’s done subtly. The last thing we need is for the Dornish to think they’ve been provoked outright.”

“Of course, my lord,” Littlefinger replied smoothly. “I would never think of disrupting such a… delicate balance.” He gave a slight bow, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “And as for Lady Y/N’s protection, I assure you, the measures in place will continue. My men will see to it that her privacy and safety remain undisturbed.”

Tywin gave a short nod of approval, his gaze flickering to the map once more, though his mind seemed fixed on his growing plan. “Good. The fewer chances Oberyn has to weave himself into my wife’s affairs, the better.”

Littlefinger’s smirk deepened, though he kept his tone respectful. “It’s rare to see you so… invested, Lord Tywin.”

Tywin’s gaze darkened, a cold warning in his eyes. “My family is my legacy, Baelish. That is not something I gamble with. Remember that, as you work with those whispers of yours.”

Littlefinger inclined his head, his face the very picture of compliance. “Of course, my lord. I live to serve.”

With that, he slipped from the chamber, leaving Tywin to consider the intricate dance of alliances, enemies, and strategy that was unfolding with Oberyn Martell in King’s Landing.

Joffrey paced back and forth in the golden glow of the late afternoon, the flickering shadows playing across his features. The tension in his expression was unmistakable, his mouth pressed into a tight, dissatisfied line. Margaery watched him from her seat beside the large, open window, her calm demeanor masking the unease she felt as she observed the king’s agitation. She’d seen him like this before—when his pride had been bruised or when something had threatened his sense of power—and knew it was best to tread carefully.

“Joffrey,” she began gently, her voice warm and soothing, “perhaps you might tell me what’s on your mind. It pains me to see you so troubled.”

Joffrey stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he looked out the window, avoiding her gaze. “That… that child,” he hissed, venom lacing his words. “That Targaryen bastard Tywin has whelped on her. It has no place here, Margaery. And yet everyone’s acting as if it’s some great blessing to House Lannister!”

Margaery nodded, tilting her head thoughtfully, though her expression remained soft and supportive. “I understand,” she replied calmly. “A child with both Targaryen and Lannister blood would… naturally cause quite a stir. But remember, Joffrey, you are the king. No one can challenge that.”

Joffrey let out a sharp, derisive laugh, his hand gripping the back of a nearby chair so hard his knuckles turned white. “Do you think that matters to them? To Tywin? Or to… her?” He spat the last word with distaste. “They’ll all whisper, saying this child has a claim, saying that it has royal blood, that it deserves something… more.”

Margaery rose from her seat, crossing the room to place a gentle hand on his arm. “And yet, my love,” she said, her voice a soft murmur, “this child will be nothing more than an infant, while you are already crowned, already commanding the loyalty of lords and bannermen. Tywin Lannister knows where the power lies, Joffrey. He has sworn loyalty to you.”

Joffrey glanced down at her, his expression softening just slightly as her words seemed to calm him, though the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “You’re right,” he muttered, though his voice still carried a note of doubt. “But Tywin is ambitious. And if he has a child with Targaryen blood, what’s to stop him from making some… claim for it?”

Margaery kept her hand on his arm, her touch reassuring. “Tywin may be ambitious, yes, but he is also practical. He knows it’s unwise to risk a confrontation with you. And as your queen, I will stand by you, ensuring no one challenges your right to the throne.”

Joffrey’s expression softened further, his gaze finally meeting hers. “You always know what to say, Margaery. You make it sound so… simple.” He paused, his eyes flickering with something almost vulnerable. “But I don’t trust them. Not my grandfather, not the Targaryen whore he’s married, and certainly not the child.”

Margaery offered a faint smile, though inwardly, she made a mental note to discuss this development with her grandmother Olenna. “Then we shall be vigilant together, my king,” she said soothingly. “And if that child ever becomes a threat, we will deal with it… quietly.”

Joffrey seemed to take comfort in her words, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “Yes… quietly. That’s how it should be. I knew I could count on you, Margaery. You have a way of… understanding these things.”

Margaery’s smile remained warm, though her thoughts were elsewhere. She would need to speak with Olenna as soon as possible, to ensure they were prepared for any shift in the court’s dynamics brought about by this unexpected addition to the Lannister family.

“Of course, my king,” she replied, her voice steady. “I am here to support you, always.”

In the cold light of dawn, Stannis Baratheon sat alone in his tent, reading over the crumpled parchment that his spies had delivered to him just the night before. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line, as he read the message again, the words seeming to smolder off the page with each reading.

Tywin Lannister’s Targaryen wife—the woman who should have been wiped out along with the rest of her kin—was with child. The blood of the dragon and the lion combined, an heir that, by the laws of inheritance, could lay a claim more legitimate than even Joffrey’s bastard lineage.

The tent’s entrance flap rustled, and Davos Seaworth stepped inside, his expression concerned as he took in the grim look on Stannis’s face.

“My lord,” Davos began, his voice low, respectful. “Is it true? The report… about Tywin’s wife?”

Stannis’s jaw tightened, his eyes cold and unyielding. “It’s true. Tywin’s Targaryen wife carries a child—a child that will carry both Targaryen and Lannister blood. There are some who might say that alone gives the whelp a stronger claim to the throne than anyone else.”

Davos frowned, concern deepening on his weathered face. “But… that’s impossible, my lord. The Targaryens were cast down. Your brother saw to that. The child has no true claim, no right to rule over you or anyone in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Stannis’s gaze turned icy, his voice laced with frustration. “Yet here we are, Davos. The whispers have already begun. And Tywin, with all his clever schemes, is bound to use this child to stir the minds of the lords, to make them doubt my own claim.”

Davos leaned forward, his voice earnest, pleading. “Then we should be cautious, my lord. Tywin Lannister has a way of twisting the truth, bending others to his will. If we react too rashly, we might play right into his hands.”

Stannis’s eyes burned with a fierce determination, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Caution is weakness, Davos. I will not allow a child—a child of a tainted, dead bloodline that my brother tried to erase—to claim legitimacy over me. No child of the Mad King’s line will ever rule the Seven Kingdoms.”

There was a long, tense silence, and Davos could feel the chill in the air deepen as he realized the path Stannis’s mind was heading down. “What will you do, then?”

Stannis’s gaze shifted, growing colder, more resolute. “I will consult with Melisandre. She will have insight into this, into what this child means and how we can best… eliminate the threat.”

Davos’s heart sank, alarm flashing across his face. He took a step closer, his voice urgent. “My lord, please. Lady Melisandre’s methods are… not without consequence. Consulting her in matters of life and death—especially concerning an unborn child—may lead us down a dark path. One that may taint your honor.”

Stannis’s mouth tightened, his gaze hardening. “Honor does not win wars, Davos. And it does not secure thrones. If this child is born, it will be used as a symbol, a weapon against my rule. It will embolden Tywin’s allies, bolster support for a claim that should never exist. We cannot allow it.”

Davos held his gaze, desperation flickering in his eyes. “But, my lord, there is more to consider than just the claim. Killing an unborn child… it’s not justice, it’s vengeance. And vengeance will do nothing but erode the loyalty of those who follow you.”

Stannis looked away, jaw clenched, and he seemed to be struggling against something unseen. “I know the weight of my choices, Davos. But if we do nothing, we risk being overthrown before we even take King’s Landing. Tywin will not hesitate to use that child as a pawn, as a symbol of power that could rally the realm against us.”

Davos took a deep breath, his voice soft but firm. “I know you seek justice, my lord. And justice will come in time. But perhaps there is another way, one that does not require consulting with shadows or flames.”

Stannis’s face twisted, frustration and doubt warring within him. “I will speak to Melisandre,” he repeated, his voice like iron. “I will hear her counsel. Nothing more.”

Davos’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he did not give up. “Then at least allow me to be present, my lord. If nothing else, I can help temper her… enthusiasm.”

Stannis considered him, his gaze penetrating, and after a long moment, he gave a short nod. “Very well. But know this, Davos: my patience is running thin. I will not let a child born of treachery and deceit stand in the way of what I am owed.”

Davos felt the weight of Stannis’s resolve, and a chill ran through him, knowing how dangerous a path lay ahead. He could only hope that, in the end, there would be some way to save Stannis from the very shadows he sought to wield.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 14 | chapter 15

"They attacked Meereen," Oberyn stated, "Queen Daenerys did the right thing, killing all the masters to stop slavery."

Your guardian father hummed in agreement, still looking at you. Absorbed by the newfound information about your sister, you found yourself lost in thoughts. Daenerys hadn't only gained Unsullied army on her side, but also the Dothraki. The Dothraki were known to be ruthless, and war was nothing to them but sport. When you were young, you'd play with your friends, pretending to be Dothraki when you all were far from one. Any tourney held in King's Landing was nothing in comparison to the way the Dothraki fight.

"Varys has confided to me in secret to meet them in Dragonstone," your guardian father added, making you glance upon the mention of a familiar name. Varys used to be part of the King's council. You thought he was still part of the council, advising Tommen and Tywin. If the Lannisters would find out, it would be considered treason. "To bend the knee. I hear the Ironborns have also supported her side recently."

"And what does Prince Doran has to say about all of these?" you butted in, the mention of your real father's name in your mouth caused a turmoil in your stomach.

Oberyn placed the cup of wine he was drinking on the table, leaned his back comfortably against his seat, then lifted his legs to rest upon the edge of the table. "After much convincing given how he always admire the Dothraki, my brother has already advised to proceed, although it might take us a bit longer due to some complications."

Furrowing your brows deeper, you asked, "You mean his son's marriage?"

Your guardian father nodded. "He tried persuading Trystane but to no luck. Marrying them would pledge alliance between the Martells and the Lannisters. It would cause a rebellion within the house."

You only frowned upon them. "So you wish to stop them then?"

"Unless Myrcella can be easily persuaded to support the true Queen," Oberyn said, "we have no choice but to make a scene just to stop any wedding from happening."

"This is an insult!" you argued. "They're just in love!"

Remembering Myrcella's ecstatic behavior upon her mother's surprised visit in Dorne, you couldn't help but feel sympathy for them. You saw her with Prince Trystane together when you first arrived back home, and you could tell it was rare — falling in love with the person your parents wish for you to marry at first.

It was then you found out the plans Lord Tywin arranged for his granddaughter. Maybe that was why he kept you alive in the Capital. Maybe that was why he accepted Yronwood without second thoughts, because regardless if you would marry Cersei or not, Myrcella would still marry Trystane.

The only thing different was both Myrcella and Trystane were already enamored with each other.

If they could forbid you and Cersei, it wouldn't hurt if they could also break Myrcella and Trystane apart. But Trystane being next in line to his father Prince Doran, it would cause an uproar amongst the Dornish folks.

Prince Doran held a massive feast for the guests when you all finally arrived in Dorne a week ago. Although his presence couldn't help but make you feel bothered. Even when he hugged you, congratulating you for your win against the murderer of his late sister, you wondered how good of a father Doran was if he only knew.

Your guardian father had welcomed you as if nothing had changed, and you couldn't hate him for hiding such facts from you since you were a kid. He did it for your own protection.

"Oberyn has told me how you had grown quite fond of Cersei," your guardian father said, bringing you back to the present. "I trust you have already had your fun. You know your duty, Y/n."

"My duty that was only made known to me a month ago?"

"It's difficult, I know," he answered. "But it's easier this way. You don't want to end up in a decision you'd truly regret for the rest of your life — choosing between her and your own family."

~~~

The night finally came to an end. You left the room rather abruptly, eyes glistening with tears for you were lost on what to do. And it was your inattentiveness that made you bump into Cersei as she closed the door of Myrcella's chambers.

"Why are you still awake?" Cersei asked. When she saw your eyes red, she cupped your face and pulled your chin to look at her. "What's wrong?"

You bit back, holding your emotions as you forced a smile. "Nothing, Your Grace. Just a silly argument with my father."

Her eyebrows knitted in worry and confusion, knowing you weren't being transparent with her. When she was about to speak, you stopped her. "I want to show you something." Holding your hand in hers, Cersei let you lead the way.

You walked through dark hallways and climbed down spirals and spirals of stairs until you both arrived in the grand library of the Sunspear castle. You had spent most of your life in there. It wasn't as great as the Red Keep's, but it stood its purpose for centuries.

You led Cersei to the center of the room, pointing to a huge painting displayed on the entire wall, with portraits of faces on top of italicized names and vines connecting each individual.

"It's the family tree of House Martell. Did you know that Prince Doran's great great grandfather was a Targaryen?" you asked, as you pointed the almost faded face on the wall, while your other hand still held Cersei's. It was a mystery to you she hadn't let go.

Cersei smiled. "You should be wary who you're sharing it with. One could tell you're supporting the wrong line."

"It's not a harmful knowledge. This is also written in scrolls I found in your library, you know," you chided in, chuckling. "Not unless you don't read them, then you wouldn't know."

She laughed, slapping your arm playfully, finally letting you go as she approached closer to the wall.

You then fell silent as you watched her stare at the wall with fascination, her fingers brushing on your portrait connected to your guardian father's name.

Absentmindedly grabbing a dusty book from the shelf, you began, "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't part of it, part of the duty expected out of me."

Cersei then glanced at you, before she closed the distance. "Y/n—"

"Do you sometimes feel that way too?" You placed the book back although stopped midway when her hand touched your arm.

She sighed, nodding. "I . . . I do, and then I remember my children and what I would do for them."

You averted your gaze, heartbeat quickened from how near the Queen was.

Cersei continued, "They say never love anyone besides your children and family. Because love is poison. A sweet poison, yes. But it will kill you just the same."

You met her eyes, already staring right at you. "You will be the death of me, Cersei."

The book somehow fell unto the floor, making a distinct yet sharp noise that could wake any resident nearby. You quickly shushed Cersei's lips when you heard sounds of metal armor clanking outside, pushing the woman against the nearest shelves to hide.

"Is anyone in there?!" one of the Dornish guards yelled into what seemed like an empty room. You and Cersei were pressed against each other in one corner, the dusty wooden shelf and an old abandoned large furniture hid the both of you. Unaware of Cersei's gaze following your face, you peered behind the shelf to check if the guard had left.

And when you both heard the door closing, you leaned back and looked at Cersei, smiling as if you won a game of hide-and-seek. It was only then when you finally noticed how the distance between you and the Queen was inexistent.

Cersei then grabbed your neck and kissed you.

Hesitantly pulling away, you whispered, "Someone could see us."

"Let them," she pleaded, her eyes never leaving your mouth. "A lioness does not concern herself to the opinions of the sheep."

When her eyes finally met back yours, you pushed your mouth against her lips and took back what you desired.

It was carnal, hungry, desperate. As if you were both deprived from each other for too long. You gently lifted and placed her on top of a study table, scrolls and papers crumpled and fell from the action, before your hand made haste bunching her dress up to her waist. Kneeling before her, you wasted no time tasting her once you had pushed her chemise out of way.

"Y/n," Cersei let out a strained moan, her hand immediately clutching your head, fingers threading through your hair as if it were reins to which she would ride you. And she did, pushing your face harder and closer into her as she rode you. The Queen's other hand was behind her as support while you lifted one of her thighs on your shoulder.

The Lioness chanted your name like a prayer as she threw her head back. Your tongue never grew tired bringing her to ecstasy, flicking against her swollen aching bud. The sounds you made, grunting and moaning as she pulled your hair, only spurred Cersei on. You couldn't believe she was capable of getting this wet and dripping before until your fingers entered her with ease, with no resistance of whatsoever, her tight and warm cunt desperately sucking your fingers inside her.

"Yes, yes, Y/n, yes!" Cersei whimpered as she pulled you closer, if it was even possible to pull you closer.

And if the Dornish guards had heard another sound, they'd ignore and let you two had your ways. Because there was no way no one could not hear how loud the Queen Mother was as she came, her body trembling. The table screeched against the cobbled floor from the movement.

Once she came down from her high, Cersei pulled you up to her, grabbing the collar of your tunic as she pressed her lips against yours, tasting herself from the kiss. You could feel one of her hands snaking inside your breeches, somehow managing to quickly untie the knots with one hand.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling the wonderful warmth of the woman's hand stroking your hardening shaft. "I miss this," Cersei whispered, pulling away. "I miss you."

The genuine tone of adoration from the Lannister woman made you fall in love with her more. "I miss you too, my Queen." The term of endearment brought a smile to her face.

Cersei was already lining your cock into her entrance before you plunged it right in. The action made the both of you break from the kiss, groaning as her nails dug into the skin of your back.

Beginning a slow rhythm, you rested your forehead against hers, eyes staring into each other. She grabbed your face for another kiss, her other hand reaching your ass as she cupped it and pulled you closer and deeper. It made you lean back and change the pace, thrusting relentlessly.

You laid her spread down on the table as you pushed into her between her legs without stopping. She arched her back and threw her head against the wood, hands reaching any item within reach just to ground herself.

Then she looked back at you as she whimpered. "I want to see you. I want to see you, Y/n." Her hands were already opening your tunic and once done, she cupped and squeezed your breasts, making you moan from the action.

"Cersei."

Her eyes were full of lust that you found yourself nearly there, your thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier each second. You leaned your body forward, on top of her and kissed her to cover her louder moans. Hands on your hair, she pulled you back from her as she looked into you. "I want to see you come undone before me," she requested with a soft whimper.

Cersei's face contorted in pleasure before you with a piercing focused gaze made you lose it as you spilled into her, thick ropes of cum spurted inside her throbbing cunt that was greedily milking you. The sight of you coming on top of her, moaning and grunting your release, made the Queen lose her own composure. A strangled moan made its way out of her throat as she hugged you, burying her head into your neck while her cunt squeezed and devoured your cock as she convulsed.

"Y/n . . . Y/n." Both of your cum leaked inside her, stuffing her full. The feeling made the pleasure last longer as she held unto you, whimpering into your ear.

And it was such a wonderful melody.

~~~

"I know you're mad after what we've discussed with your father," Oberyn said, holding a lit torch as you delved further into the dark.

With the deafening sound from the rushing waterfall, no one would notice two individuals such as yourselves creeping inside a secret entrance to one of the deepest caves in Sunspear. As a kid, somehow you had stumbled on such place while swimming with your friends, competing who could jump from such a high peak where the water meets the ground. You almost drowned that day, but you remembered being rescued by a scaly crocodile. No one believed you that time.

When you only gave Oberyn silence as you followed his trail, he sighed. "I heard news from the castle you've been very busy with the Dowager Queen. You got to be careful, Y/n."

"I am careful," you spat back. "As you always never fail to remind me every single day."

"Doran changed his mind," he said, making you glance at him in confusion. "He now believes marrying his son to the young lioness would secure Dorne's place in the Kingdom. I had no idea how Tywin had managed to convince my brother. But Doran's been cautioning us to stop whatever the seven hells we were doing. He even intercepted Varys' ravens coming in and out of Sunspear. The Sands are starting a rebellion in the open desert upon hearing the news. Ellaria was frustrated. I am telling you, Y/n, you are the only one string holding us together to bend the knee to Queen Daenerys."

"What happens now?"

You both continued to walk in silence, crawling against uneven slippery surface only ignited by the torch carried by Oberyn. Then he paused, looking down what seemed to be an empty chasm before he looked at you, nudging ahead.

"Are you mental? Is this my punishment?"

Oberyn rolled his eyes, as he then pulled you. "Don't be a fool." You turned towards him as he said, "Don't forget to breathe though."

You gave him a scornful look before letting yourself fall back towards the dark hole. Cold water hit your body the moment you were submerged. Catching breath, you heard splashing next to you with Oberyn grunting. "I'm too old for diving."

Chuckling, you swam towards the nearest bank and brushed the wet hair from your face. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, all you could see was a large chamber ahead, even larger than the Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.

"You know, your mother didn't only give you to us before she left for Dragonstone," he started, shaking off the water from his boots. "You came with something, a shiny scaly egg. Something that hasn't been in existence in Westeros for quite some time."

You heard chains unrolling from a distance, making you look back at the darkness ahead, your hand at the sheath of your dagger.

"It hatched when you turned seven," Oberyn went on, panting as he climbed towards a high cliff, ushering you to follow him. "Only a few trusted Sands knew about its existence, doing their best to feed it, to take care of it. Goats it's favorite. Ever wondered why there's a whole pasture of goats at the end of Sunspear. It wasn't just any merchant's animal farm."

You heard a growl so deep and unnatural in this world, the hairs at the back of your neck stood. You unsheathed your dagger, not sure whether it could help your case, but Oberyn held you back as he shook his head no. "There's a reason why your guardian father hired someone from the Citadel to teach you some old High Valyrian because it only understands that language."

From the faint light coming from the cave's ceiling, you could see a shadow move before you, making you wary. It was only until you were face to face with the beast did you manage to figure out that your hunches were right. You had only seen them on paintings, on some pages from old books. But if you could talk to the painters or the publishers, you'd ask them why they never tell anyone how huge and terrifying an actual beast looked like.

You stood frozen, your dagger falling to the ground when the creature snorted a smoky breath your way, leaning forward towards you as if smelling you. You had so many questions but no words seemed to come out. Then it took a step back, a light visible in its throat before it came out from its mouth, blowing huge flames towards the ceiling, lighting the whole cave.

It was a full sized dragon, so huge it would cover the entire Red Keep. The dragon had distinguishing silver rough scales, long talons and metallic gray wings, its tail looked like spikes with ends as sharp as spearheads.

"Y/n, meet Nymeros." Oberyn's voice made you realize you were still there and that it wasn't some dream or imagination. The beast leaned forward once again, even closer than before as it gently nudged its head against your body, making you nervously gasp. Your trembling hands reached towards its snout, a smile forming slowly on your face when it closed its eyes from your touch.

"I think it's time for you to learn how to ride a dragon."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link.

Thank you so much ❤🥰

[spacerockfloater]

hi! i noticed you learnt about what ryan condal said regarding blood and cheese. it was…something. i would like to know your thoughts on the matter. though it would be completely understandable if you need sometime to gather them together or if you would rather not at all! thank you and bye!

Hello beloved, thank you so much for asking me! I’d love to share my opinion!

If anyone’s wondering, @rhaenelle is referring to this interview where Ryan Condal essentially says he believes that Blood & Cheese’s brutality and heinousness was exaggerated by the Greens in a propagandistic attempt to convince their subjects that Rhaenyra and Daemon are the worst villains ever born, hence why he toned the event down; to show us what he thinks is the accurate version of Jaehaerys’ murder.

Now, I am aware that Condal had already warned us that HOTD was going to be a feminist retelling of the events of F&B, which practically means that his plan has always been to whitewash the everlasting fuck out of Rhaenyra. So what do I think about this?

Well, for starters, I think that Ryan Condal is an excellent businessman. He knows what kind of tropes are going to make the audience engage with his show. He understands that people need a hero to cheer for and a villain to hate, therefore he removed the moral ambiguity from all of the characters and divided them into two categories: the Blacks, enlightened revolutionaries full of passion, deserving of admiration and correct in everything they do, and the Greens, pious fools with a moral superiority complex who are stack in the ways of the past and commit despicable crimes. The average viewer does not possess the intelligence to comprehend that both parties have their good and bad moments, and that they’re both correct in fighting for what each believes is rightfully theirs. Simultaneously, he benefits from the modern trends that want women in media to take revenge when they are wronged and emerge as triumphant girlbosses, because of course a white upper class woman’s suffering in a western world (or Westeros) society has everything to do with her gender and nothing to do with her personality or decisions (even if this works solely for Rhaenyra, because Alicent seems to be held accountable for every single one of her actions). Finally, it is obvious that Condal is trying to appease disgruntled Daenerys fans, so he has rebuilt Rhaenyra into this tortured martyr that wishes to change the world for the better in an attempt to make her resemble her great granddaughter six times removed.

For all of these reasons, I find it very logical that he is going out of his way to minimise the tragedy the Greens experience. It just doesn’t make Rhaenyra look good and honestly, who wants that? The producers saw how unhappy Danny’s stans were when they made her lose her shit; they’re not going to make the same mistake twice. They don’t want their show to tank like the last season of GOT did, so they’ll do everything in their power to keep the audience happy. And it’s working! What’s the last thing Condal says in this clip? “You kinda start rooting for [Blood and Cheese]!” and boy oh boy, the TB stans sure do! Literally hundreds of memes that rejoiced at Jaehaerys’ death were posted on X this week, with tens of thousands of likes. But when Lucerys died, it was presented as the most foul thing to ever happen in the ASOIAF universe. It is the TB supporters that dictate which child murder is good and which is bad, and that decision usually depends on which child came out Rhaenyra’s womb, not let’s say, the fact that one kid was a toddler that could barely walk, while the other was a teenager that laughed at the disabled person he mutilated himself.

It’s all just marketing

That being said, I want to clarify that I understand why Condal and the HOTD producers do what they do, but being a good entrepreneur does not necessarily make you a literary genius. Now, I’m not gonna explain why stripping Rhaenyra off of every character trait that made her interesting is a bad decision and that in their attempt to remove the blame from her so that they can elevate her as this righteous patron of feminism, they’re accidentally removing all of her agency and turning her simply into a victim, because I have a whole blog dedicated to that. But let’s just say that presenting Rhaenyra as this sexually liberated idol that’s incapable of evil, when in fact she’s an entitled aristocrat who’s completely at the mercy of men around her, from her father to her husbuncle, is the most performative activism move ever pulled in recent TV history, as well as pushing the narrative that Alicent suffers from internalised misogyny because duh, a woman can only be good and a feminist if she supports Rhaenyra, not when she pursues her own interests.

Ultimately, I think we just have to accept that this show is not meant for TG fans. We are not going to find any satisfaction in it. Everything that was unique and admirable about the Greens in the book has vanished. Their family dynamic is fucked up, Alicent’s children hate her, Aegon and Halaena cannot stand one another, Alicent is constantly a victim and never someone that chases her own ambitions, Halaena is very vague, Aemond appears to be more angsty than angry, Aegon is a stupid rapist, Jaehaerys’ death was turned into a mockery, Alicole was weaponised in order to make us shit on Alicent and Criston even more and so on. This show barely caters to us because we’re not making them any money.

The reason that there are more TB than TG stans is because (I’m gonna get so much fucking hate for this) most people who watch TV are fucking morons. I swear, when F&B came out 6 years ago, no one gave a flying fuck about Rhaenyra, because we all understood that everyone involved in the Dance of the Dragons was fucked up in their own way and that the message of this story, just like the general message of ASOIAF, is that nobody deserves to sit on that fucking throne. We were all in agreement about that. But then this fucking show came along and all the oblivious simpletons that swallowed whatever the producers shoved down their throats, grabbed the book and decided that “Woah, this book is obviously a critique on patriarchy and Rhaenyra is obviously the victim of the story”! As if GRRM, the man who said that he doesn’t sit down and think “Oh, I’m going to write a woman now” but instead he believes women to be people just like men, with complex personalities, would ever do that. And they just can’t believe that it is possible for book!Rhaenyra to be an evil racist classist full of entitlement! Surely it must be because the Greens are rewriting history! There’s no way GRRM, the man that created Cersei fucking Lannister, would ever make a female character that’s vicious and crazy just because she feels like it! Y’all need to sit down for a moment. I say this as a radical feminist that supports the 4B movement: you’re projecting your own ideas onto George’s work. Not all the media we consume has to reflect our ideologies, but if you think that it has to, then this book isn’t the anti misogynistic masterpiece you wish it was.

Like, when it comes to F&B, I am firmly anti Targaryen and did not wish for any side to win. I wanted them all wiped out to be honest. But when it comes to HOTD, I’m TG basically out of spite at this point.

All in all, I just think that things are going to go downhill for us from this point on. They’ll just keep glorifying the Blacks until the very end.

[dragonseeds]

do you have any thoughts on daenys the dreamer?

extremely fun and obvious play on the cassandra figure. a version where her family not only believes her but venerates her visions and prophecies—like, she saves them and a handful of dragons and, in doing so, the world, but it also curses her bloodline. the thing that once saved them becomes an obsession that consumes them literally in wildfire. the idea that you can be doomed by believing in and actively trying to fulfill a prophecy (aegon v at summerhall, melisandre and stannis) just as easily as others are doomed by their disbelief or their attempts to circumvent fate (cersei echoing my buddy king laius)—like that’s so, so cool to me. i love the ambiguity between fate and choice, the way grrm takes the whole trope apart and plays with all the individual components.

also very interested in the line running from daenys to daenerys, and i always wonder if daenys saw her too and if so, how much of her life daenys saw and was able to contextualize? did she see clear images like melisandre and bran or more metaphorical ones, like jojen or dany in the house of the undying? something like… a dragon with three heads fighting in a frozen wasteland lol?

considering the the loss of female power in house targaryen is so deeply entwined with the dying of the dragons, underneath all of that for me is aemon’s line in affc and the context that follows it:

what were they translating?? were some of the documents in other languages? it couldn’t have all been daenys’ works because aemon says they’ve been wrong for a thousand years. this prophecy has been a motivating factor for the targaryens (and valyrians?) for a thousand years, but i wonder at what point the translation error actually crept in? daenys was valyrian and that would’ve been her primary language—i like to think she would’ve understood the nature of the dragon in a way her male descendents couldn’t. no one ever looked for a girl, but it was always a girl. not men in a patriarchal feudalist society reducing women to their reproductive capabilities (rhaella’s miserable life being one of the most egregious examples of this) and then being surprised when a woman is needed to rebirth the dragons lol.

this got away from me because i think the (deconstruction of the) use of prophecy in asoiaf is fascinating and everything we know about daenys is tied up in that. cutting myself off before i start talking about gender as it relates to this prophecy. beyond that, i’m really not interested in interpretations of daenys where she’s catatonic or broken by what she’s seen any more than i am in interpretations of dany where she goes mad, just because i’m sick of the seeing the general victimization of women in asoiaf taken to such an extreme that they’re defined by it—with whoever suffers most ecstatically being the least problematic to stan, especially when the women in question are from/associated with house targaryen.

[agentrouka-blog]

It seems like Dany in book is still having hard time believing that her father was a Mad King who was hated in Westros. When Selmy tried to mention it she stopped him because she didn't like where it was going despite she asked him about it.

That entire scene is so...

(Cut for long quote)

Dany is reading a book of fairytales that she acknowledges are not proper history. (Symbolismmmmm.) But she keeps getting distracted by doubts about herself.

She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him. Dany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought. “Your Grace?” She turned to find Ser Barristan behind her. “What more would you have of me, ser? I spared you, I took you into my service, now give me some peace.” “Forgive me, Your Grace. It was only … now that you know who I am …” The old man hesitated. “A knight of the Kingsguard is in the king’s presence day and night. For that reason, our vows require us to protect his secrets as we would his life. But your father’s secrets by rights belong to you now, along with his throne, and … I thought perhaps you might have questions for me.” Questions? She had a hundred questions, a thousand, ten thousand. Why couldn’t she think of one? “Was my father truly mad?” she blurted out. Why do I ask that? “Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper’s …” “Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise … but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until …” Dany stopped him. “Do I want to hear this now?” Ser Barristan considered a moment. “Perhaps not. Not now.” “Not now,” she agreed. “One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?” “There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother … and Rhaegar. Him most of all.” “I wish I could have known him.” Her voice was wistful. “I wish he could have known you,” the old knight said. “When you are ready, I will tell you all.” Dany kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way. That night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest? Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid’s thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her … only somehow his face kept turning into Daario’s. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri’s legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today … (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

The whole scene is so utterly rife with Red Flags.

Dany has just commited a(nother) massacre, made herself Supreme Leader Until I Move On and banished Jorah for his past spying. She (correctly) surmises that she is overwhelmed and questions her suitability for the job of ruling. She questions her family's sanity.

She wants to avoid what those questions imply. Out on the terrace, she sees Drogon doing his best Replacement Harpy impression (symbolismmmmm) while another one is off hunting boldly (surely nothing bad can come of that behavior in the near future...) and...

A glimpse of hope! A dude with unique personal information about her family appears and offers to share it! Perhaps that uncomfortable feeling can return into focus and be addressed?

Nah.

AND THEN the guy goes "You know what? You're totally right. This isn't really relevant or urgent. Nothing about your family history is alarming enough to question your path in general. Your brother was AWESOME btw."

Barristan, even if he had told her things, would never have helped her come to uncomfortable conclusions because he is the worst kind of hypocritical sycophant for a) any monarch he happens to be serving at the time, and b) House Targaryen in particular. The conversation they are putting off... would not have been useful anyway.

So a placated Dany returns the focus on herself and her feelings, but validated, and her next move is to turn the "this must never happen again" incident with her "not a sex slave" Irri into "actually, time to honorable serve your khaleesi like a sex toy while she fantasizes about other people". People who remind her of her family and their Valyrian looks.

She is burrowing into her Targaryen identity in ways she hadn't even done before, taking liberties with her power that she had shied away from before. Her yelp review will be underwhelming. "Her kisses tasted of duty". Because that's what it was. Dany doesn't care.

She ends up making a choice the next morning.

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

And it is a reasonable choice on the surface, that finally has her standing fast to accept a sense of responsibility for the outcomes of her actions here.

But already we see how the missing context of Westerosi history is distorting her understanding, and Barristan bolstered this. Because she creates a difference where there isn't one.

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.” “There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm. “Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis. “You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out. “Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint? “A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.” “But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.” “What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo. “Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

Dany sees a difference between dragon and harpy that the earlier image of Drogon in the harpy's place already shows us is a false dichotomy. She imagines prosperity and peace in the aftermath of Aegon's invasion where he created no such thing. She is concerned with her sanity and suitability to rule, so she will stay temporarily to test herself on this city of human beings.

The human children must heal and learn. Her dragons need to grow and fly.

Dany needs the same, she says. The same as her dragons, not the same as her children. There will be little healing and learning. But we will see her fly off on Drogon, ecstatic, while the people of her city burn below.

It was never going to end any other way, because "if I look back I am lost" is her curse. She is not interested in the facts, because they hinder her fantasy of the red door. But she will also never get facts because there is no one who would give them to her.

She prefers a book of fairytales over a proper history and she will begin to forget there's a difference.

[magalidragon]

🏒 the deal 🎶 | “Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don't know how you ever lived without them.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @youwerenevermine! 🥳🥰😘🤗🎂🎈🎊🎁 Okay fine whatever so I am a few hours your time early, but I was so excited to share and honestly, the world is going to end soon and I wanted to get ahead of the game. I went back and forth over what to do for you and couldn’t decide so went with this. The original hockey boyfriend Mr. Garrett Graham and sassy Hannah Wells! It is Jonerys meets THE DEAL! I hope you like it! So grateful to this fandom for introducing me to you! Love you bby! 😘

There was a very strong possibility Jon Snow had made a terrible mistake making this deal with Daenerys Targaryen. He figured it was easy enough; she was a smarty pants and could help him get his grade up in what was supposed to be an "easy A" philosophy class and keep him from getting benched. In doing so, he'd pretend to date her and the guy she had a crush on-- fucking Robb, his own damn cousin-- would see her as a bit more than weird silver-haired purple-eyed Dany and want to ask her out. Since Robb wanted anything he couldn't have-- particularly if Jon had it first.

Now he was watching Robb openly flirt with her and was squeezing his beer bottle so hard he figured he'd be benched not for his shitty philosophy grade but for having to get stitches in his stick hand. It was supposed to be an easy quid-pro-quo. A deal. Started off more annoying than anything else-- Dany could not have cared one single snowflake that he was Queen Alysanne University's star left winger and frequently let him know it. He honestly appreciated it, even if he had to really wear her down, chasing her all over Winterfell to get her to concede.

That had honestly been fun. Then there were their random long conversations after studying. Topics ranged from the best pizza toppings-- pepperoni and more pepperoni for him, while she saw nothing wrong with pineapple on her pizza-- to the best Marvel movie-- he didn't mind that movie about 'The Eternals' while she thought it sucked and liked 'Ant Man' more, all the way over to which House of Commons member should win the two highly competitive ridings near Winterfell or who really won the War of Five Kings?

He also had admitted to her some things he'd never shared with anyone. That he might be the aloof "Ice Man" of QAU hockey who could get any girl he wanted, he actually played that image outside of his truly private life. In reality he just couldn't think of girls, he was too busy trying to do his best to keep his grades up to get a very difficult degree in metallurgy and cultural anthropology while also making sure he didn't lose his rookie contract with the Winterfell Wolves professional hockey team.

Just like he knew all she wanted was to get the bonus money from the School of Drama and Music's winter showcase to help with her mother's medical bills, back in Pentos. That her dream was to sing on stage at the King's Landing Opera House.

All of that swam in his head, those conversations and late nights, sitting out in the quad on a blanket while she quizzed him on long dead Maesters, or that time she'd come to one of his games and he'd scored a hat trick, so she ahd to come to every singel one afterward.

He had done his job; he talked her up to Robb. He lingered in the living room of his and Robb's shared house when they would talk, just in case there needed to be extra prodding. Now they were on a bloody, fucking date.

"Jon, buddy, let go of the beer. The beer didn't do anything to you. Come on man, there you go." His friend and other roommate, Satin, carefully pried his fingers off the glass neck, moving the bottle to the oak bartop. "Alright, so when are you going to tell her?"

"Huh?" He was now glaring at the back of Robb's stupid auburn head, wondering if he could cut off those fucking curls while he was sleeping and blame their fourth roommate Theon. "Tell her what?"

"That you're in love with her, you dipshit."

Thank the gods he wasn't holding the beer bottle because he'd have definitely dropped it. He also was glad he didn't have any beer in his mouth, because that would have been sputtered everywhere as he gaped at Satin, who was now studying his fingernails nonchalantly. "Wha...what...I'm not....she's a friend! She wasn't just a friend, she was...Dany.

Dany, whose first words to him were: "I'm sorry do I know you?"

Dany, who always tied her long silver braids up on her head in a knot using pencils. Who hummed random song llyrics and chords and scribbled them on ltitle pieces of paper. Who had a voice that sounded like fucking angels from teh rafters. Who snorted and cackled when she laughed. Who called him "Wolf Man" instead of "Ice Man" because he had a wolf back home and one tattooed on his arm.

Dany....Dany who always smelled like lemons and lavender and who...

He blinked. It was like seeing everything under a different filter. Brighter. Across the bar, he watched Dany laugh at something Robb said, but it didn’t meet her eyes. She was playing with the silver guitar pick she used, something he had learned was a nervous habit. Her eyes— vibrant, happy lavender— did not fully meet his, but he knew she had glanced his way.

Gods. Was he in love with her? Was that what this feeling was? He couldn’t love her. He had to focus on hockey and studying and…it was just easier to keep that other side of him out there. If Jon Snow actually found a girl…a music major who didn’t know a deke from a slapshot and thought there were quarters not periods…he’d never hear the end of it.

He didn’t care. He didn’t want her with Robb. “And why is that?” Satin asked.

Fuck he said that out loud? “Because she’s mine,” he snapped. He paused. “No she is her own person of course I don’t own her obviously but…” He drained the beer bottle. This was one thing Robb was not going to steal from him. He stomped over to their table and didn’t even wait for his cousin to say anything before he glanced at Dany. “Get your coat, we still have to finish that Agatha show.”

She cocked her head up, confused. “Jon what…”

“Come on.”

“Jon,” Robb began, but he didn’t even have time to finish. Jon grabbed Dany’s hand, tugging her away and towards the back corridor. “What the seven hells Jon!”

If she wanted to fight him, she could. He’d let her anyway. Dany did not pull very hard and protested over Robb’s loud complaining. “Jon seriously what the fuck are you doing?!” She pushed at his chest when he tugged them into the stairwell that led up to the bar manager office, the dim lighting throwing her face in relief. She was fuming. She was a dragon, he expected it. “What was that!?”

“I want to see something.” He didn’t wait for a response. He had to do this. So he crashed his mouth down over hers.

The shock had her gasping, lips parting under his. Soft, plump, perfect lips, and he pressed gently, his hands dropping to her small waist to hold her upright against the wall. She had her hand on his shoulder and for a second he didn’t think she was going to kiss back and made to pull away, apology at the ready, knowing he had fucked this up completely.

Until her hands dove into his hair and she opened her mouth wider, moaning and pulling him to her. He groaned, desperate now, a man who had his first taste of water after wandering a desert, and cupped her jaw, angling her head so he could rise over her, sliding his tongue along hers. Gods. She tasted like strawberries. How!? One of life’s mysteries, he supposed.

The need for air separated them, their breathing ragged and foreheads touching, noses brushing. Her gaze lifted, meeting his. “I take it you don’t think I should see Robb?”

He shook his head, whispering, “Come home with me. I’ll make you a deal.”

“And what’s that?”

He kissed her again, nipping her bottom lip. Her breasts were pressed to his chest and his knee had wedged itself between hers. They were about ten seconds away from a public indecency charge. His voice dropped, gravelly. “You come home with me and I’ll make you come within ten minutes. Five, even.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “And what do you get out of this deal?” she asked.

He pretended to think, before flashing a grin. “The knowledge I made you come. Oh and, our next movie night you don’t wear underwear.”

She smirked now. “I am not one of your puck bunnies.”

“And you know I don’t do puck bunnies.”

After a second, she barely nodded. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got Wolf Man.”

“So it’s a deal then Targy?” She hated that nickname. The glare she shot him had him grinning.

She pulled at his hand, towards the back exit. “It’s a deal.”

[kellyvela]

Did Sansa ever dream to be with hound the night she was in bed with tyrion and it was before Sandor sexually assaulted her? Was that GRRM being too much into the beauty and beast?

Has GRRM said that he thinks drogo and Daenerys were a nice couple? Would that change anything about Sansa x sandor being one-sided attraction?

(Also, sorry to bother you. I haven’t read the books, but I came across this information after unintentionally stumbling upon a sansan video while searching for Sansa content and reading the comments. I just wanted to clarify—hope it’s not too much to ask.)

GRRM has specifically said that in the Books Daenerys wedding night was consensual (Because in the end she says "YES"), but this was changed in the Show, where that scene was not consensual.

I personally think that in both, Books & Show, Daenerys wedding night was not consensual.

Dany's first sexual encounter with Drogo was changed to assault. He undresses her and bends her over onto her knees while she cries. Then the scene cuts away. "Why did the wedding scene change from the consensual seduction scene ... to the brutal rape of Emilia Clarke? We never discussed it. It made it worse, not better," Martin said in "Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon." Source

---

Now, about Sansa's nightmares with men that traumatized and abused her:

In ACOCK cujo tries to rape her during the night of the Blackwater Battle.

In the next book ASOS she marries Tyrion. During her wedding night Tyrion tries to rape her as well but stop after seeing her repulsion to his not consensual touches.

Later, also in ASOS, when she's in The Vale disguised as Alayne Stone, after hearing her aunt Lysa having sex with Petyr Baelish during their wedding night, she remembers her own wedding night and also remembers cujo's words.

Later, the same night of her aunt Lysa's wedding, Marillion the bard tries to rape Alayne Stone but she was saved by Lothor Brune, who Sansa at first thought it was cujo because Lothor's raspy voice sounds similar.

And much later that same night she has that nightmare about her wedding night with Tyrion and her husband morphing into cujo.

As you can see, it's all conected with the sexual abuse she endured and the trauma that abuse left.

The cujo cultist talk and write a lot about Sansa's nightmare of her wedding night, where Tyrion, her husband, morphs into cujo, to the point of calling that nightmare a "wet dream" about cujo (they are the ones having wet dreams about cujo, not Sansa), but they will never talk about how Sansa had a similar nightmare with Joffrey, her former betrothed, morphing into Illyn Payne in previous chapters in the same Book:

“Once she dreamed it was still her marrying Joff, not Margaery, and on their wedding night he turned into the headsman Ilyn Payne. She woke trembling.” 

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

The memory of her own wedding night with Tyrion was much with her. In the dark, I am the Knight of Flowers, he had said. I could be good to you. But that was only another Lannister lie. A dog can smell a lie, you know, the Hound had told her once. She could almost hear the rough rasp of his voice. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They’re all liars here, and every one better than you. She wondered what had become of Sandor Clegane. Did he know that they’d killed Joffrey? Would he care? He had been the prince’s sworn shield for years.

(...)

That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion’s eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. “I’ll have a song from you,” he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. “I wish that you were Lady,” she said.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

That nightmare about Tyrion and cujo, two men that tried to rape her, happens after another man (Marillion) tried to rape her. That's the connection between all those men, there's nothing romantic there, not wet dreams, not lust, not future romance foreshadowing, not true love.

And much later, when Petyr Baelish kissed Sansa without her consent, she will remember Marillion's words the night he tried to rape her. I repeat, it's all connected with the sexual abuse she endured and the trauma that abuse left.

Here more things I wrote about the cujo cult:

---

And about Sansa and the Beauty & the Beast, read more here:

---

There you have it, GRRM never said that any of these "ships" are "nice." But cujo cultist would twist his words in their favor, despite GRRM saying the contrary several times over the years.

[amber-laughs]

Ned and Lyanna's Pale Blue Roses

There is so much yet to be revealed from the Tower of Joy but the most notable missing detail is Jon Snow himself. He has no place in Ned’s memory of Lyanna’s death. Ned explicitly says only he and Howland Reed left the Tower of Joy alive that day, but we know this can’t be true. They left the tower with another living breathing human being and Ned knows that too. So what gives?

“I might mention, though, that Ned's account, which you refer to, was in the context of a dream... and a fever dream at that. Our dreams are not always literal.” - George R.R. Martin. Not only that but Ned himself admits there is much he simply blacked out from “They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it.”

and may I remind you “A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness” A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV 

I think Ned’s mind, through his trauma, grief and determination to leave the past behind, has altered his memories. I think Ned has mentioned Jon almost everytime he mentions the scene in the tower. I think Jon is the blue rose petals from Ned’s memories.

"Eddard!" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death. A Game of Thrones - Eddard X 

If Lyanna’s voice was as damaged as Ned claims “The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper” and yet he could hear her calling for him, surely he could hear a baby crying. Surely Ned knew the Kingsguard would never let him, a rebel whose cause had just murdered Aegon and Rhaenys in cold blood, anywhere near Rhaegar’s last living son. So as Jon’s cries blow across the blood streaked sky Ned knows what comes next.

“The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black.” A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

So was Jon just lying on the floor of the tower? He had to have been somewhere? His mother’s arms? Until her muscles gave out and fell to the bed she laid on maybe.

“But Jon isn’t dead, the rose petals are dead.” True but the petals Ned claims he saw in the wind weren’t dead either. Jon Snow isn’t dead but Lyanna’s son is. He never existed. Rhaegar’s children are all dead. Only Ned Stark’s bastard remains.

"The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei is currently speaking of Lyanna but make no mistake, this conversation is wrapped around Jon Snow. 

Ned thought, If it came to that, the life of some child I did not know, against Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, what would I do? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon's life, against the children of her body? He did not know. He prayed he never would. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

He doesn’t list Jon with his biological children but Ned’s saying he’d react with the same paternal instinct and, unlike Catelyn, he wouldn’t save them at the expense of Jon. That’s why he shifts to it to her, she’s the unknown variable in this. Ned doesn’t need to wonder because he’s already done it. He’s chosen Jon’s safety for fifteen years knowing the Starks could be executed over his secret.

What do you take me for? You've a bastard of your own, I've seen him. Who was the mother, I wonder? Some Dornish peasant you raped while her holdfast burned? A whore? Or was it the grieving sister, the Lady Ashara? She threw herself into the sea, I'm told. Why was that? For the brother you slew, or the child you stole? Tell me, my honorable Lord Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?" "For a start," said Ned, "I do not kill children. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei asks a few questions here that in large boil down to “Who is your bastard’s mother?” Ned’s only response is “I do not kill children.” He’s given her his answer. Probably the most answer honest he ever gave about Jon. All he wants to do for Cersei is keep her children from the same fate as Rhaegar’s. He’s done it successfully once before, that his blueprint here. But of course he won’t allow his mind to go there. He never dwells on Jon’s parentage, not even in the privacy of his own mind. “(…) and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep.” He thinks of pale blue roses, of the innocent children at stake. Of the death of his sister and how she died and he wants to weep.

The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XIII

They are angry with him, the Kings of Winter, Lyanna, there is something he didn’t do. In Jon’s own dreams it’s the Kings of Winter he sees on his way to his mother’s grave. They try to tell him. They scream he’s not a Stark, they want him to know just as much as she does. Her pale blue roses still haunt him while she cries for the promises they both know he can no longer keep. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals the thorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle of blood run down his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

For certain only Ned and Howland Reed knew the truth. A good argument for Benjen, who Ned’s heard is dead beyond the Wall. No he’ll never tell Jon the truth no matter how much he wants now wants to, “The thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only he could see the boy again, sit and talk with him…”  Secrets hidden beneath pale blue petals never to be revealed. 

[doc42]

"It seems I must be a warrior."

Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"

"In ancient books of Asshai it is written that there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." 

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door.

. . . the shape of shadows . . . morrows not yet made . . . drink from the cup of ice . . . drink from the cup of fire . . . . . . mother of dragons . . . child of three . . .

The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.

"It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl." No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. "Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass.

"I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior."

"I have seen it in the flames, read of it in ancient prophecy. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone."

"Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?"

The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many … It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he'd built it himself.

When Daenerys says "Fire and Blood" to the Grass Ghost Jorah at the end of A Dance With Dragons it is her version of Prince Rhaegar's revelation "It seems I must be a warrior" from the backstory revealed to her by Ser Barristan in A Storm of Swords, as Azor Ahai reborn is described in ancient prophecy as a warrior who draws a burning sword from the fire in the dread hour when the darkness gathers, and one of the story's central genre subversions from the Nineties a decade long gone is said warrior is someone nobody would think as such: a young girl who wanted to laugh and plant trees and was tired of war. When the red queen Melisandre tells King Stannis things like

"The sand is running through the glass more quickly now, and man's hour on earth is almost done. We must act boldly, or all hope is lost. Westeros must unite beneath her one true king, the prince that was promised, Lord of Dragonstone and chosen of R'hllor."

the literary quality of the viewpoint structure is devised to make you ask, "and what is Azor Ahai reborn doing right about now?" Azor Ahai reborn the Lord of Dragonstone is reading true histories of Westeros and feels those look an awful lot like songs and fairy tales.

"You are trembling, Khaleesi," the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany's sandals. "I'm cold," Dany lied. "Bring me the book I was reading last night." She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him.

We see the darkness gather at the end of A Dance With Dragons when Winter falls upon the world and time has come for all things to die:

Though she walked through a green kingdom, it was not the deep rich green of summer. Even here autumn made its presence felt, and winter would not be far behind. The grass was paler than she remembered, a wan and sickly green on the verge of going yellow. After that would come brown. The grass was dying.

Down in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are oceans of ghost grass, taller than a man on horseback with stalks as pale as milkglass. It murders all other grass and glows in the dark with the spirits of the damned. The Dothraki claim that someday ghost grass will cover the entire world, and then all life will end." That thought gave Dany the shivers. "I don't want to talk about that now," she said. "It's so beautiful here, I don't want to think about everything dying."

Not silver. White. The bird is white. The white ravens of the Citadel did not carry messages, as their dark cousins did. When they went forth from Oldtown, it was for one purpose only: to herald a change of seasons. "Winter," said Ser Kevan. The word made a white mist in the air. He turned away from the window.

The central poetic dynamic beating beneath all of Mr Writer's work is he writes pragmatic characters to say "life is not a song" only to turn around and make the characters go "but we can make it so." "I thought you were a singer. A singer should understand. The song, that is the way I really die. Coll knew that, when he made the song for me." "I'll have no songs about how brave you died, Kingmaker." Essentially what GRRM always writes follows the dynamic of "and yet it moves", e pur si mouve, itself a legend in our world told about Galileo Galilei, fitting to be sure.

Though the Citadel has long sought to learn the manner by which it may predict the length and change of seasons, all efforts have been confounded. Septon Barth appeared to argue, in a fragmentary treatise, that the inconstancy of the seasons was a matter of magical art rather than trustworthy knowledge. Maester Nicol's The Measure of the Days—otherwise a laudable work containing much of use—seems influenced by this argument. Based upon his work on the movement of stars in the firmament, Nicol argues unconvincingly that the seasons might once have been of a regular length, determined solely by the way in which the globe faces the sun in its heavenly course. The notion behind it seems true enough—that the lengthening and shortening of days, if more regular, would have led to more regular seasons—but he could find no evidence that such was ever the case, beyond the most ancient of tales.

The stars. Dirk paused and looked up. The Helleye had begun to edge above the horizon; most of the stars were gone already. He saw only one, very faint, a tiny red pinpoint framed by wisps of gray clouds. Even as he watched, it vanished. High Kavalaan's star, he thought. Garse Janacek had shown it to him, a beacon for his run. There were too few stars out here anyway. These were no places for men to live, these worlds like Worlorn and High Kavalaan and Darkdawn, these outworlds. The Great Black Sea was too close on one hand, and the Tempter's Veil screened off most of the galaxy, and the skies were bleak and empty. A sky ought to have stars. A man ought to have a code too. A friend, a teyn, a cause-something beyond himself.

"A MAN must have PRINCIPLES, said the man who has none." "A MAN must have HONOR." When Jaime jumps into the fighting pit for Brienne and she calls him "Kingslayer" and he replies "Jaime", he is making the song "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" come true. When Theon and Jeyne Poole jump from the walls of Winterfell and fly to reach King Stannis, the false Azor Ahai reborn wielding the fake magic sword Lightbringer, one of Daenerys' lies from the House of the Undying, they're making the song come true, and the song appears in the Bolton-run Winterfell chapters as well, sung by Abel the Bard. And when Daenerys jumps into Daznak's Pit, she tames the dragon and flies into the skies.

For a song has power, a power that can be used for both good and bad, with mixed results, to deceive and uplift both. In The Armageddon Rag the occultists Edan Morse and Ananda Caine, proto-King Stannis and Melisandre of Asshai, use blood magic sacrifice to enhance the power of the song played by the central rock band Nazgûl in order to bend time itself and turn back the clock so that the Eighties become the Sixties again and they could travel the road not taken from there. "The music can't do it all by itself, it needs us to make it come true." This would spell doom for the world, the bleeding will never stop and the dead will rise again as armies of the night to fight the wars long gone for all eternity, but through the Nazgûl song at the end the Sixties stand together once more as ghosts united at rest, freed from the eternal battle. Resurrection may be a lie, but the Sixties will live forever in the music.

Prince Rhaegar was a fool to believe in prophecy because he was the only one who saw the truth of the world, that the cold night is coming and the darkness gathers, and felt he must make the song true to face this dread hour. Jaime was a fool to jump with no fighting hand into the pit for Brienne, for he could only hope Lord Bolton's men would slay the bear in time to keep the Kingslayer alive. Theon was a fool to jump from the walls of Winterfell in hopes of reaching King Stannis, for we know Stannis would try to execute Theon first chance he has for being the Turncloak. Dirk t'Larien in Dying of the Light is a fool to embrace code duello in a dying world without stars and choose to honor the promise he made to a woman he more invented in his head than loved, his "Jenny." Joshua York is a fool in Fevre Dream to confront Damon Julian the most ancient of all vampires, for Julian is like the river of time itself and his order of life is older than Rome, the way of the masters and slaves, the way of might. For it is known that life is not a song and when the winter comes and the darkness gathers, there can be no songs as no one will be left alive to sing them anyway. "She is the prince that was promised and hers will be the song of ice and fire."

[stormcloudrising]

If JD won't hook up then who do you think is the younger and comely lover Dany was dreaming about? There's also the mystery man who was cold a ice. Two quotes hinting at a mysterious man for Dany seems like too much of a coincidence.

Hi Nonny,

Thanks for the ask.

To answer the first part of your question, let’s look at the passage you referenced.

What Dany wanted she could not begin to say, but Jorah's kiss had woken something in her, something that had been sleeping since Khal Drogo died. Lying abed in her narrow bunk, she found herself wondering how it would be to have a man squeezed in beside her in place of her handmaid, and the thought was more exciting than it should have been. Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow. —A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

The passage is about wish fulfillment on Dany’s part. She’s lonely and wants someone to love and lay beside her at night. She’s looking for someone to take the place of Khal Drogo. But she’s a young girl and she doesn’t want someone like Jorah who’s old enough to be her father. Young girls dream of men closer to their age who are comely and daring and adventurous. She very liked Sansa in this instance.

Dany’s wish fulfillment is not about any specific person as is suggested by the shifting shadow, but more her thoughts on the ideal partner. The passage is also a set up for the introduction of Daario as a couple of chapters later, the shadow comes into focus with his arrival on the scene.

Daario is as unlike Jorah, and as similar to Khal Drogo as it’s possible to be without him actually being Drogo. Young and comely? ✅ a warrior and leader of men? ✅ Dark and dangerous? ✅ He even wields an arakh like Drogo.

Daario personifies the type of man that interests Dany. So, while Dany may not have literally dreamt of him, he’s the type she was dreaming of. Hope that makes sense.

As for the man with blue lips, many fans in the fandom are of the opinion that it’s Jon and I’m suspecting that you are of this opinion as well, but I disagree with that interpretation.

The basis for this theory is Bran’s first weirwood vision when he saw Jon’s dead body in the ice cells at Castle Black.

Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived. North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks.

—A Game of Thrones, Bran III

Except for Jon’s body being cold and frozen, the rest of the scene doesn’t match up. Of course, blue is mentioned in the wall, and a body will start to turn blue when exposed to extreme cold as cyanosis or livor mortis sets in because of lack of oxygen. However, the bruised blue lips doesn’t match up.

The man with bruise blue lips and a member as cold as ice Euron, which is interesting because while Daario and Drogo were similar types of men, the way Daario and Euron are described, they could almost be the same person. It’s why some in the fandom are in favor of this theory.

I don’t think they are the same person because the timing doesn’t match up, and it would mean that Euron was able to be in two places at once; and nothing in the story thus far has shown that to be possible. So, unless George comes out with a magical reason that would explain how Euron could fly across the seas faster than a speeding bullet, they are two separate individuals. Oh, and there’s also the fact that Daario’s lips are not blue.

My thinking is that Daario is in the story to prepare Dany for Euron. If she loses Daario, and that possibility is on the table, she will be more susceptible to Euron when he starts trying to worm his way into her feelings. He’s the type of guy she goes for, and he will heavily remind her of Daario. Also, her dream of the man with the blue lips suggests that Euron may already have begun his seduction of her.

George actually begins the set up to it being Euron a few chapters earlier when Xaro Xhoan Daxos pays Dany a visit, and then he reveals the truth in TWOW.

"Not all your enemies are in the Yellow City. Beware men with cold hearts and blue lips. You had not been gone from Qarth a fortnight when Pyat Pree set out with three of his fellow warlocks, to seek for you in Pentos."

Dany was more amused than afraid. "It is good I turned aside, then. Pentos is half a world from Meereen."

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

After Xaro leaves, Barristan as the Lord Commander of her Queens Guard shows his concern at the potential threat.

Ser Barristan cleared his throat and said, "This warlock that the merchant spoke of …"

"Pyat Pree." She tried to recall his face, but all she could see were his lips. The wine of the warlocks had turned them blue. Shade-of-the-evening, it was called. "If a warlock's spell could kill me, I would be dead by now. I left their palace all in ashes." Drogon saved me when they would have drained my life from me. Drogon burned them all.

"As you say, Your Grace. Still. I will be watchful."

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

Dany’s choice of words is interesting because Pyat Pree is not the warlock Barristan needs to worry about. In A Feast for Crows, we get this interesting conversation between Victorion and Euron, when the latter sends the former to Meereen to bring back Dany for him to wed. Keep in mind that AFFC and ADWD is one book split into two, and so events in them are taking place around the same time.

Euron turned to face him, his bruised blue lips curled in a half smile. "Perhaps we can fly. All of us. How will we ever know unless we leap from some tall tower?" The wind came gusting through the window and stirred his sable cloak. There was something obscene and disturbing about his nakedness. "No man ever truly knows what he can do unless he dares to leap."

______

The captain took the cup Euron had not offered, sniffed at its contents suspiciously. Seen up close, it looked more blue than black. It was thick and oily, with a smell like rotted flesh. He tried a small swallow, and spit it out at once. "Foul stuff. Do you mean to poison me?"

"I mean to open your eyes." Euron drank deep from his own cup, and smiled. "Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. One presumed to threaten me, so I killed him and fed him to the other three. They refused to eat of their friend's flesh at first, but when they grew hungry enough they had a change of heart. Men are meat."

—A Feast for Crows - The Reaver

Xaro tells Dany that two weeks after she destroyed the House of the Undying, and left Qarth, Pyat Pree and his warlock brethren sail to Pentos in search of her to exact vengeance.

And Euron later tells Victorian about capturing a gallaes out of Qarth with 4 warlocks and a quantity of shade-of-the-evening. What are the odds that he and Xaro are talking about two different sets of warlocks? Absolutely nil, which is confirmed in the preview chapter for TWOW, which George read at a convention. It was taped by fans and later transcribed by Poor Quentyn.

“Drink with me. Your king commands it.”

Euron grabbed a handful of the priest’s tangled black hair, pulled his head back, and lifted the wine cup to his lips. But what flowed into his mouth was not wine. It was thick and viscous, with a taste that seemed to change with every swallow.

Now bitter, now sour, now sweet. When Aeron tried to spit it out, his brother tightened his grip and forced more down his throat. “That’s it, priest. Gulp it down. The wine of the warlocks, sweeter than your seawater, with more truth in it than all the gods of earth.”

“I curse you,” Aeron said, when the cup was empty. Liquor dripped from down his chin into his long, black beard.

“If I had the tongue of every man who cursed me, I could make a cloak of them.”

Aeron hawked and spat. The spittle struck his brother’s cheek and hung there, blue--black, glistening. Euron flicked it off his face with a forefinger, then licked the finger clean. “Your god will come for you tonight. Some god, at least.”

—The Forsaken - The Winds of Winter Preview Chapter

There is a suggestion in another Dany chapter that while in exile, Qarth might have been Euron’s base of operation when he was not out reaving.

Dany had laughed when he told her. "Was it not you who told me warlocks were no more than old soldiers, vainly boasting of forgotten deeds and lost prowess?"

Xaro looked troubled. "And so it was, then. But now? I am less certain. It is said that the glass candles are burning in the house of Urrathon Night-Walker, that have not burned in a hundred years.

—A Clash of Kings - Daenerys V

Many in the fandom, myself included think that Urrathon Night-Walker is Euron. It fits with all the symbolism and him conveniently being in the area at the same time, but there’s also the curious detail revealed in an Asha chapter concerning an ancient Greyjoy ancestor from the Age of Heroes. With his legend and similar sounding name, he seems to have been a Euron prototype.

"Torgon Greyiron was the king's eldest son. But the king was old and Torgon restless, so it happened that when his father died he was raiding along the Mander from his stronghold on Greyshield. His brothers sent no word to him but instead quickly called a kingsmoot, thinking that one of them would be chosen to wear the driftwood crown. But the captains and the kings chose Urragon Goodbrother to rule instead. The first thing the new king did was command that all the sons of the old king be put to death, and so they were. After that men called him Badbrother, though in truth they'd been no kin of his. He ruled for almost two years."

—A Dance with Dragons - The Wayward Bride

So we have Euron, which clues suggests might have been in Qarth around the same time as Dany, and who might just have a glass candle, using shade-of-evening. A drug it is suggested came into his possession when he captured Pyat Pree’s ship that sailed just a couple of weeks after Dany left Qarth.

The same Forsaken preview chapter confirms that it was indeed Pyat Pree’s ship that Euron captured when Aeron sees the captured warlocks on the Silence, Euron’s ship.

Last were two warlocks of the east, with flesh as white as mushrooms, and lips the purplish¬-blue of a bad bruise, all so gaunt and starved that only skin and bones remained. One had lost his legs. The mutes hung him from a rafter. “Pree,” he cried as he swung back and forth. “Pree, Pree.”

—The Forsaken - The Winds of Winter Preview Chapter

While Dany discounted the warning Xaro gave to her about Pyat Pree, it is taking form in her dreams with the man with bruised blue lips, and all evidence point to the warlock in question being Euron.

That night her cooks roasted her a kid with dates and carrots, but Dany could only eat a bite of it. The prospect of wrestling with Meereen once more left her feeling weary. Sleep came hard, even when Daario came back, so drunk that he could hardly stand. Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice. She sat up with her hair disheveled and the bedclothes atangle. Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone. She wanted to shake him, wake him, make him hold her, fuck her, help her forget, but she knew that if she did, he would only smile and yawn and say, "It was just a dream, my queen. Go back to sleep."

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

As it is strongly suggested that Euron also has access to a glass candle, it is quite possible that he’s entering Dany’s dreams and seducing her in that manner. It’s strongly implied that he’s doing just that to his brother, only, he is giving him nightmares. However, while Euron might be manipulating Aeron in his dreams, the Damphir is also seeing the truth of some things.

The dreams were even worse the second time. He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood¬-red sea. He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles. Beside him stood a shadow in woman’s form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire. Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed...

—The Forsaken - The Winds of Winter Preview Chapter

So, yes, all evidence so far points to it being Euron and not Jon who Dany dreams of. And in a way, with Daario’s similarity to Euron, one can argue that both Dany’s dreams were about the same person…Euron.

[axelsagewrites]

Most People Say Goodbye - Part Two

Pairing: Sandor x F!Bolton!Reader

Summary: Sandor and (Y/N) have a secret relationship at kings landing which crumbles when he disappears after the battle of blackwater. Eventually though your paths cross again

TW: swearing (its the hound so you could guess lol)

Requested by Annon

Words: 1699

Part One Here

Masterlist Here

Daenerys presents brought both an uneasy feeling but a strange amount of relief. Or maybe that was the alcohol everyone was clearly drowning in. as you approached the hall you could hear the laughter, the talking, the joy. You only wished you could partake as well but you had to find Sandor.

You had barely entered the hall when Jon had called you over. Your eyes scanned for Sandor as you approached the top table, but you couldn’t see him. “Hey Jon,” you greeted him and he stood to hug you. “I’m glad you made it back in one piece.”

“All thanks to her. (Y/N) meet Daenerys,” Jon grinned.

You did the basic formalities, not really caring about a foreign queen right now but not as upset as Sansa appeared to be. You could see the annoyance seeping out of Sansa the longer you spoke to the dragon queen so finally when you saw a gap in conversation you pardoned yourself.

“Thank gods you managed to escape her,” Sansa whispered as you sat beside her.

You elbowed the girl, “Look im all down for whatever bitch fit you wanna have,” you said, “but can you tell me how much you hate the girl your brothers clearly fucking *after* you tell me where the hell Sandor is?”

“Your right im sorry,” she said giving you a sympathetic smile, “I saw him sitting with some of the wildlings. That giant guy. Not the giant giant the-“

“The guy who apparently got nursed by one? Yeah that’s Tormund,” You had become friends with many of the wildlings when they first arrived as you tended to their wounded and sick. Tormund was one of the ones you grew closest too. “Sometimes he makes me wonder if Jon is secretly gay,”

Sansa looked out into the crowd, “Yeah, I get what you mean,” you looked out to where she was staring to see the hound sitting by Tormund. Tormund was talking at Sandor will he clearly only cared about his stew and ale. “They’d be cute together. In a weird way. But enough about Jon and me and the dragon woman. You’re here for him, aren’t you?”

You sighed as you stared at him suddenly feeling as small as a bug. “Yeah,” you whispered, “I don’t think I can do it,”

“You can and you will. We have survived so much (Y/N) don’t let him break you,” Sansa took your hands, “and if he’s does anything to offend you in any way I will get the knights of the vale to take care of him,”

“Damn you’ve gotten mean,”

“Can you blame me? He hurt you (Y/N) and I never want to see you hurt again,”

“If only life was that simple,” you looked back to where Sandor sat but this time your eyes met. His mouth was agape and he looked sadder than you had ever seen. Your heart ached but you knew you had to go to him, “Its time I guess,”

“Good luck,” Sansa squeezed your hands and slowly you rose from your chair, smoothed out your dress, and walked through the tables and chairs until you stood in front of him.

“(Y/N)! Have you come to hear of our adventure?” Tormund bellowed as you approached.

You smiled at him, “Later Tormund. Can I borrow you Sandor?” he was already on his feet before you could finish your sentence. He just stood looking at you. You looked at him. “Could we talk?”

Sandor nodded and you started to walk away with him following behind you. Neither said a word. You weren’t really sure where to go not feeling comfortable with him in your room but also not wanting anyone to hear. You decided to stop as you approached the main courtyard where the Stark boys used to train. You missed watching them.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you let yourself have one last moment before you would have to use all your strength to keep your temper in check. You turned around and broke the silence, “So,”

“So…” the silence quickly returned, “I missed- “Sandor went to speak but you stopped him.

“Why did you leave?” it was all you really wanted to know but he had no answer, “You didn’t even say goodbye,” you tried your best not to cry but you couldn’t stop your eyes growing wetter.

“I’m sorry,”

“I need a reason,” you said as your sadness turned to anger, “I need a reason an explanation I need to know why you left me. I deserve to know,”

“I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t mean to leave you,” Sandor tried to approach but you moved back. He stopped and sighed, “I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking. There was fire. So much fucking fire. Even the water was on fire. The men coming after me were all on fire and all I could see was that cunts face,” you knew he was talking about his brother. He didn’t even like going near the fire in your chambers when he visited, “and I froze. A fucking squire had to save me. Then all of a sudden im back behind the wall and that fucking imp tries to tell me to go back and I thought fuck it. it was all I was thinking. Fuck the lot of them. So, I left,”

“But why didn’t you take me with you? I would’ve followed you anywhere you went,” your anger was still there but your tears had returned. You couldn’t stop the growing pit in your stomach. You meant it. anywhere he went you would’ve followed until your feet bled.

“I wanted to. I did. I went to the holdfast, but I just couldn’t go in. what was I supposed to do? Burst in and grab you? Take you on the road with me where I didn’t eat for days half the time? I didn’t want to put you through that. You deserved better,”

“Better? you think being left with that cunt of a king was better!” you shouted not caring who heard, “You saw what he did when you were there did you think he’d go easier on me? Pity me? Did he fuck,”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know what I was thinking,”

“I don’t know either! You have no clue what I went through after you left. Baelish snuck me out of that castle before Joffrey could kill me only for me to land at my brother’s doorstep half-starved but that was sunshine compared to what Ramsey was like,” your voice was laced with venom and your eyes dripping tears. “And the worst part is the whole fucking time all I could think about was you,”

“All I could think about was you too,” this time Sandor caught your arms and didn’t let go, “you think I didn’t try and find you? I did. I heard you escaped and I headed north instantly. I even took that Arya girl with me because I knew what she meant to you. And trust me she’s fucking more annoying than you,” you chuckled at that. You loved her like a sister but she could be insufferable at times. Your laugh brought a slight smile to his face, “And as soon as I ran into Jon I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to go with him because he was the only chance I had of finding you again,”

“You wouldn’t have had to find me if you hadn’t have left in the first place,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back, his head hanging low, “I hate myself every damn day for leaving you. I would kill any one of those bastards who hurt you then I realised im one of them. And I will never forgive myself for what I did to you,”

You could tell he was sincere. Sandor was rarely ever this emotional. Even when he told you what his brother did to him and what happened to his sister he never cried. But tears began to fall from his eyes.

You took his face in your hands and for once he didn’t flinch when you touched his scar. “I forgive you,” you said pressing your forehead against his, “but if you ever leave me again- “

“Never, never ever,” he said pulling you closer, “I will never leave your side.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” he replied and for the first time in years you leaned up and kissed him.

It was so soft at first you almost melted into his touch. One of his hands found your waist while the other softly held your jaw. Yours fell to his shoulders then around his neck for stability. You felt your feet lift off the ground as he straightened his back bringing his other hand back down to your waist. After a brief pause for air his lips returned to yours, this time with a deep desperation you had both been holding in for years.

Then of course someone had to come along and wolf whistle. Sandor released you from his grip however he quickly grabbed your hand. You turned to see Sansa and Jon standing by the edge of the court yard.

“Can you two not fuck in the courtyard?” Sansa said as she tried to hide her smile.

Jon’s face screwed up, “Don’t be weird Sansa she’s basically our sister,”

“Where can we fuck then?” Sandor asked and you couldn’t help but laugh at Jon’s face. Sandor grinned, “Sorry lad but you’ll have to get used to it. I’ll marry her first if you fetch me a maester though,”

Your head snapped towards him, “You’ll marry me?” you beamed.

“Of course, will marry you, you idiot. I promised I wouldn’t leave didn’t I?” you pulled him back in for another kiss much to Jon’s dismay who quickly stalked away, Sansa following behind laughing. You pulled back once Jon left, “Now where the fuck are your chambers?” he asked.

You took his hand, “Follow me,” and with that you two disappeared back to your chambers not to leave them for the next two days.

[buttertheflame]

For All You Give (I’ll Give It Back to You) ❄️🥾❄️

*excerpt from Chapter 3: “Just Like Christmas”*

I love you, I love you. It was a feeling in her heart, a notion on her mind, that got stirred up by the cold press of his lips. After changing, they were able to make their hearty dinner of fried beef and potatoes in the skillet and wolfed it down. Yet it stayed with her even as he took her by the hand and led her outside their hot tent an hour later. The waxing moon was already rising, peeking through thin clouds and the stars were shining bright.

A Christmas party met them, their friends gathered around the roaring fire in their resting layers, thermoses in hand, elf ears, reindeer headbands and Santa hats still strapped on. They cheered when they appeared and her heart lifted. She had joked to Jon that the previous weeks spent visiting their two families had felt like the movie Four Christmases. But out of them all, Aegon was the biggest film buff and did not disappoint.

“Ah! It's my older cousin, the richest man in town!"

Joyful laughter rose with immediate recognition of the line from It's a Wonderful Life. But Daenerys was startled, barely aware of Missy pressing a thermos into her hands. He and Jon had been best friends since their first year of college...but had her cousin ever called him that?

Aegon earned a few punches for his trouble, but she could tell Jon was secretly pleased.

Her head was floating as she took a seat with the girls. They were passing around Grey Worm's famous spicy chickpeas, courtesy of his mother's recipe book. They were talking, but she could hardly hear them. There was a steady breeze moving through the clearing, taking her heart with it.

"Okay, so spill!" Arianne said. "How long did you know how you felt about him?"

The question pierced her little bubble, given the sense of deja vu it gave her. She met Missandei's eyes, who had raised her brows knowingly. She had posed that same question a few months ago on a regular night out, a little innocuous but dangerously curious. They had all known Jon Snow for years, but neither he or Dany gave an indication they'd one day end up like this. What changed? She gave Jeyne a rueful grin. Arianne shifted forward, listening closely.

"Well," Dany sighed softly, "from the beginning, I think."

"No way!" they screamed, and she laughed. "Oh my God! Dany! Come on!"

She corrected herself, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I mean, it's been so long that I'm not sure. It had to have been from the beginning."

"Wow," Arianne said, while Jeyne shook her head. "How many years is that?"

One, Dany thought, or two. I can't count it. Did it begin with his visions? Or before then?

"The last time I really saw you two together was on your birthday," Arianne continued. "And you had just started dating then, right? Things got a little tense with your dad."

Missy nudged her playfully. "But you two got through it."

"Ugh," Arianne groaned, "I feel like I've missed everything. Jeyne? Do you know about this?"

She tilted her hand back and forth. "Only a little. Nothing more than Robb was willing to share of course."

Dany tweaked Jeyne's nose, a habit she'd picked up from Jon. The other woman gasped and Dany chuckled. It was a wonder they could keep any boundaries, as long as they'd all known each other.

"Okay, okay, forget the beginning," said her cousin's fiancée, while Jeyne stuck her tongue out at Dany. "How did you get past that? Please? It has to be cute, right?"

Dany thought about her father's recent efforts. And well, what happened between her and Jon wasn't exactly cute. But it was them. And that would always mean everything. She took a few more sips of her spiced eggnog and let her mind drift back to springtime, earlier that year, about four months before his confession.

In their friend group of athletic flirty thirty-somethings, Jon and Dany never got along, though they’ve seen the most intimate sorrows. They’ve been there for lay-offs, lost pets and failed relationships. It turns out they loved each other all the while, made apparent when visions he has about her leads him to open up his heart.

In the wake of his confession about them, a few months after they’ve gotten together, their friends take a forecast of perfect weather as an opportunity to offer him the best Christmas gift. They join the couple on a search and rescue mission for his dog on Mt. Shenandoah. When it goes wrong, can Jon make his way back to her? Or are his visions destined to separate them for good?

Rated: E!!! read more here on ao3

[witchlingcirce]

AHHHHH we got Promo for the new season today so I wanted so share my thoughts and opinions 🫶🏼❤️‍🔥

First off… THE OUTFITS, OMG ACTUALLY GORGEOUS. They’ve obviously upped the quality this season and I am FOREVER grateful. Emma D’arcy and Olivia Cooke look absolutely STUNNING.

I really enjoy how they went with a very Daenerys season eight looking outfit for Rhaenyra. It’s probably a reference to her gradual decline into cruelty (ugh hate how this happened to Dany in season eight but irrelevant). Love how there giving Rhaenyra good old Targ colours!!! GORGEOUS.

Don’t even get me started on Alicent, Olivia Cooke is one of the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. The outfit is so flattering, the fabric is gorgeous SHE IS GORGEOUS. The detailing on this dress is actually so stunning. Green and auburn/red hair is actually like perfect Olivia.

I’m really liking the expression on these two ladies as well. In the bigger poster that this promo is apart of, you can see that it’s Alicent kind of looking at Rhaenyra. I feel like this is meant to represent Alicents inner turmoil with her decision. I think ultimately she kind of regrets, I’ve read some 🚨leaks that say that Aegon stops listening to her, and I think that ultimately makes her realise maybe all of this wasn’t worth it🚨 while I do think it’s a look of regret, I mostly think it’s a look a grief. B&C causes Alicents daughter to go into horrible grief and also leads to the death of her grandson. Very interesting! Cant wait to see what Olivia Cooke has in store this season.

For Rhaenyra I think it’s a look of determination. She completely looks past Alicent and it looks as if she’s looking at the iron throne. I’m so happy that this season there giving Rhaenyra the same cunningness and agency she had in the book. I kind of hated how in the show you didn’t really feel the desire she had for the throne. But THIS SEASON! I have so much faith.

There both so gorgeous as well!! I think these are my favourite promo images.

Hmmmm I wonder if this promo could foreshadowing to any possible events in the future….hmmm…..hmmm…..

Anyways, both of these promos are really cool. I really like how they both have there swords out (ofc Aemond sword isn’t as cool as Darksister…), there both in front of there banners ready to fight for there team!

I’ll be honest I don’t really have much to say about these promo’s itself other than it’s obviously setting the kind of rivalry these two have (sort of.)

Although for these characters I’m really curious on where there characters are headed. I think at the end of season one we saw that Aemond kind of regretted his decision in killing Luke (whether that’s cuz he didn’t wanna actually kill him or didn’t wanna deal with the consequence) I’m really interested in how he will handle it. I don’t think he’s in Kingslanding when Jaehaerys dies but I wonder how he will handle the news. ‘Son for a son, an eye for an eye’.

Daemon I’ll be honest I can kind of assume will probably stay the same, I feel like the type of character he is was set up nicely ect ect. I’m curious with how him and Rhaenyra’s relationship will be. Obviously it’s a bit rocky, with him choking her, and also him organising B&C against her wishes, I’m very curious! Matt Smith will be phenomenal.

Aegon I hate you but you ate this ONEEEEE little thing. His promo ate so bad guys I’m sorry like… who let him serve that much?? Also RHAENYS IS FREE FROM THE CONE HEAD! THANK GOD! I PRAYED FOR TIMES LIKE THIS.

Overall Aegons promo is probably the most ‘symbolic’, in the corner you can see one of the swords going through a green banner, probably to symbolise his usurpation and how the throne isn’t ‘his’. I also find it really interesting how he’s holding his crown and not wearing it, whereas Rhaenyra is wearing hers. I think it’s to show how the iron throne is something that Rhaenyra WANTS it’s something that was promised to her for most of her life Vs Aegon who was kind of forced upon the role.

Also interesting that Cristons hair is long and in BTS pics we see that he has short hair, I wonder if he cuts it during the season. I also like how he’s next to Aegon, “kingmaker” also a sign to how he becomes Aegons hand of the king.

I dont think theres anything to say about Rhaeny’s and Corlys other than that RHAENYS SLAYS!! Thats my queen FR.

Also, I want to point out at Aegons window we can see Vhager (you can tell by the sag, lol.) and at Rhaenys we can assume thats Meleys… Rooks rest anyone?💔

ALL the promos where so amazing, good job to everyone who worked on them and I will BE DISCUSSING THE TRAILER TMRW.

BONUS:

Olivia Cooke posted Trailer(s) I saw someone on twitter mention how maybe there will be a team green trailer and a team black trailer??? I HOPE SO.

Im really hoping that we see Jace and Baela in tbe trailer tomorrow… guys i miss jace 😭

[marichive]

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Daenerys Targaryen in A Game of Thrones , the first book of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ Is it really mine? ❞

❝ Tonight you must look like a princess. ❞

❝ What does he want from us? ❞

❝ All they have taken from us, we will have it back. ❞

❝ He will be enraptured. ❞

❝ Do you take me for a fool? ❞

❝ My apologies if I have given offense. ❞

❝ Kings lack the caution of common men. ❞

❝ I shall kill him myself. ❞

❝ Many important men will be at the feast tonight. ❞

❝ No doubt he would pay well for your head. ❞

❝ He will not sleep easy while I live. ❞

❝ I don't want to be his queen. ❞

❝ Please, I don't want to, I want to go home! ❞

❝ How are we to go home? They took our home from us! ❞

❝ If you must wed him and bed him for that, you will. ❞

❝ In time you may even learn to like him. ❞

❝ All things of importance in a man's life must be done beneath the open sky. ❞

❝ He has promised you a crown, and you shall have it. ❞

❝ I council you to be patient. ❞

❝ Guard your tongue or I'll have it out. ❞

❝ There are no more dragons. ❞

❝ There is no privacy here. They do not understand sin or shame as we do. ❞

❝ It is a small thing, my princess, but all a poor exile could afford. ❞

❝ Silver for the silver of your hair. ❞

❝ Is that the only word you know? ❞

❝ It's so beautiful here, I don't want to think about everything dying. ❞

❝ You are learning to talk like a queen. ❞

❝ You dare give commands to me? ❞

❝ Have you forgotten who you are? ❞

❝ Can you wake the dead? ❞

❝ He is still the true king. ❞

❝ It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace. They never are. ❞

❝ What do you pray for? ❞

❝ I pray for home, too. ❞

❝ He ought to have come by now, for the feast. ❞

❝ You ought to have gone with him to keep him safe. ❞

❝ He is the only one left. The only one. ❞

❝ He is all I have. ❞

❝ You belong to them now. ❞

❝ Please, [name], it is forbidden! ❞

❝ I want what I came for. ❞

❝ Turn away, my princess, I beg you. ❞

❝ Fire cannot kill a dragon. ❞

❝ I have a chill. Light the brazier. ❞

❝ The poisoner was the first, but he will not be the last. ❞

❝ A few cuts. Nothing of consequence. ❞

❝ You have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been. ❞

❝ It is not for you to tell me what I cannot do. ❞

❝ This is the way of war. ❞

❝ If you must stay, then help. ❞

❝ I sing of my scars. ❞

❝ You must not say that. ❞

❝ We have ridden far enough today. We will camp here. ❞

❝ For the love you say you bear me, help me now. ❞

❝ I will not let him die! ❞

❝ Weep for him tomorrow, or a year from now. We do not have time for grief. ❞

❝ But why? Why should they kill a little baby? ❞

❝ Better to kill the child than to risk his fury when he grows to manhood. ❞

❝ They must not hurt my son! ❞

❝ Some would say that death is cleaner. ❞

❝ Is there no other way? ❞

❝ Only death may pay for life. ❞

❝ This is bloodmagic. It is forbidden. ❞

❝ The dead will dance here this night. ❞

❝ Bring him back to me. ❞

❝ They say she is accursed. ❞

❝ He did not live. ❞

❝ All the grief has been burned out of me. ❞

❝ Should you be up, weak as you are? ❞

❝ I saw you, alone, dancing with the shadows. ❞

❝ I swear to you, these men will die screaming. ❞

❝ If I look back, I am lost. ❞

❝ See what life is worth, when all the rest is gone. ❞

❝ Do you think bloodmagic is a game for children? ❞

❝ Loose me from these bonds and I will help you. ❞

❝ I am his heir. Whatever was his is mine now. ❞

❝ You shall not be alone. ❞

❝ Come with me. We will see all the wonders yet unseen. ❞

❝ I know what you intend. ❞

❝ I understand that you loved him. ❞

❝ I will not watch you burn. ❞

❝ I was a child yesterday. Today I am a woman. Tomorrow I will be old. ❞

❝ Give me your hand and your heart, and there will always be a place for you. ❞

❝ I vow to serve you, to obey you, to die for you if need be. ❞

❝ Forgive me for all I have done and all I must do. ❞

❝ Is it so far from madness to wisdom? ❞

❝ You swore to obey me, whatever might come. ❞

❝ Do not fear for me. ❞

❝ The fire is mine. Don't you see? ❞