#( threads ) alysanne

[branwyn-the-half-witch]

The Wall and the Waning of Magic: 1/2

(this was originally a Twitter thread; re-posting here for ease of reading)

The Wall is an edifice created, best guesses conclude, some 8000 years prior to the events of A Game of Thrones; it was constructed by some combination of the First Men, led by Bran the Builder, those they called ‘Children of the Forest’, more rightly known as those who sing the song of earth (hereafter ‘singers’) and giants. It is patrolled by the Night’s watch, who protect the realms of men from what lies beyond; notably the Others, although this mission has been forgotten until very recently, with the so-called ‘Wildlings’ (Free Folk) taking the place of the great foe.

It is commonly accepted that the Wall is a net good, both in-universe and without, and that any distaste we may have about the necessity of the Night’s Watch pales in comparison to the horror that will occur when the Wall comes down.

I propose differently; I propose that the Wall is sickening and weakening the world, and it coming down will be one of the greatest moments of the tale – and moreover that the Wall was potentially always intended by its makers to be thrown down.

Magic Lingers

ASOIAF takes place in a world where magic is waning, to the point that learned men will insist magic is gone from the world entirely – and many of them consider this a good thing. The disappearing of magic is largely attributed to the death of the last dragons, and the revival of magic following Daenery’s miraculous rebirth of dragonkind seems to be proof of that.

However, the truth is more complex; we learn from several sources that magic is not entirely gone from the world, even prior to the dragons’ cradle-pyre. It is simply gone from the west of the world following the Doom of Valyria – further east, we are told, magic still exists and its practitioners endure, and even thrive in places such as Asshai.

More intriguingly is this from Maester Luwin, that supposes magic was fading even before the Doom, describing Valyria (a magical empire lasting thousands of years) as merely an ‘ember’. It cannot therefore solely be the death of dragons that caused magic to fade in the West.

The Sad Fate of the Singers

Westeros was once home to a large number of magical beings; unicorns, mammoths, direwolves, ‘great lions’ and, of course, the giants and the singers. All of these are now believed to be extinct, as per Maester Luwin above. Those who venture or live beyond the Wall know that this is not the case; these beings cling on, albeit in scant numbers.

We know that the singers fought and lost a terrible long war with the First Men, and that they retreated to the deepest forests upon the Pact that saw the end of the war. We know also that they were still present in the South in some numbers when the Andals arrived.

However, common wisdom says the singers have been extinct for thousands of years; we know they still linger beyond the Wall...but why? The North remained a bastion of the Old Gods, yet even the northmen believe them gone. Why did they not remain in the deep forests of the North? Why did their numbers continue to decline even after the wars? Why go beyond the Wall, closer to the Others?

The Evil of the Wall Magical and Mundane

The Wall is made of ice. This is an obvious statement to make, but its curious to consider what it means in the context of this world, where cold is the enemy and ice represents death, darkness and crucially – the Others.

If we take as given that Bran the Builder built the Wall, why was it made of ice, when his other claimed works are all of stone? The magic of the singers likewise is in earth and tree and water. So why is the Wall made of ice, the very symbol and strength of the enemy the Wall was built, allegedly, to keep out?

The Wall has its own collection of spooky, disturbing myths that have grown up around it, many of them centring around the Nightfort, formerly the seat of the Night’s Watch. The one that concerns us here is that of the Night’s King, allegedly the 13th commander of the Watch who took to wife a woman commonly been believed to be one of the Others – and from the description of her, that’s highly likely.

However, observe that the Night’s King brings that woman back beyond the Wall to his fortress – it does not keep her out, any more than it keeps out the two wights that awaken in Castle Black in AGOT.

But the Wall was created to keep the Others out, no? Coldhands indeed asserts that he, almost certainly some kind of dead man, cannot pass beyond the Wall due to the spells it is imbued with, presumably those created by the singers; but there is a gate.

The Black Gate, situated beneath the Nightfort, is itself a source of much theorising; it is magical, made of weirwood, and a sad construction that sheds a tear as Bran passes beneath it. The use of weirwood – and the face especially – suggest that this is the work of the singers, who made a door that only the Night’s Watch could open.

It seems unlike that the singers, aiding in the building of an anti-Others defence, would create a door that an Other could pass through; Bloodraven’s cave seems thus warded, so far successfully. But why is the Gate blind? Why is it described as resembling a corpse? This could be a function of the sheer age of the Gate, but I believe it to be more significant than that.

Of Silverwing

Queen Alysanne Targaryen made a visit to the Wall and visited the Nightfort in particular. The castle gave the Queen such bad vibes that she arranged it to be abandoned – immediately – paying for the replacement herself.

That’s quite a reaction, and one that should be contrasted with Stannis, who plans to make the place his seat (and note that Sam considers the possibility that the Black Gate is not permanent – which is very intriguing).

More interesting than Alysanne’s reaction to the Nightfort is her dragon Silverwing’s reaction explicitly to the Wall itself. She is disturbed by the winds from it – and I reject the notion that this was solely the cold, as the cold at Winterfell makes Vermax ‘ill tempered’, not disobedient and disturbed.

It is suggested that the Wall is anathema to creatures of fire – and yet Melisandre is seemingly stronger at the Wall than she is Asshai!

It is also suggested that Silverwing feared not the Wall but what lay beyond – but the Others had not yet begun to stir, so what was she sensing? I posit that the Wall was drinking in the magic that Silverwing generated, effectively draining her.

Also pertinent is the fact that Jon Snow loses all sense of Ghost when the Wall is between them. An unbreakable powerful bond that endures over great distances is rendered inert due to the Wall. This could be a matter of inexperience on Jon’s part, but it is worth bearing in mind.

Waning of Magic

Taking everything together, I propose that the Wall is draining the magic from the world. The magical peoples and creatures of Westeros exist only beyond the Wall, having died out everywhere else, notably the singers who have disappeared even from presumably safe strongholds.

Dragons, whose mere existence makes magic stronger (and possibly what is actually empowering Melisandre), mislike and possibly even fear the Wall, to the degree that Alysanne was deeply disturbed for long after. It needs must be noted also that the dragons of the Targaryens did not reach the size and strength of their forebears in Valyria, dwindling ever more with the years. Perhaps this was due to the Dragonpit, to the betrayal of the house’s women, tied so completely to its dragons. Perhaps it was something more insidious.

Where magic does exist still, it exists in the further East; in Qarth, Asshai and so forth. These places also had a lack of dragons post-Doom, also endured the Long Night, so it cannot be solely these factors. But they are much further away from the Wall; their magic is weakened but endures.

To touch also on the seasons as an aside, WOIAF offers some further credence to the Wall-as-problem. The seasons used to be normal, we are told, only in the most ancient tales. Tales presumably predating the Wall.

If the issue of seasons were solely one of balance between Ice and Fire, when why were there no world-ending catastrophes when Fire was ascendant? The Doom impacted only Valyria, after all.

We must return to the symbolism; where Ice is death, silence, darkness and inhumanity and Fire is life, song, light and passion.

TBC

[alyofraventree]

Dreamer & Lady - A Starter with @helaenasdreamfyres

Alysanne had arrived at the royal court with a mix of trepidation and excitement, her eyes and ears taking in every sight and sound as she walked the halls of the Red Keep. She knew that this was not going to be her permanent residence, as she was soon going to head off with the Hightower branch of Targaryens to Dragonstone, but she figured it was good to take in what she could while she was here. 

She was already a little late to her planned meeting with the Princess, but she had been distracted by her personal quest to visit the Godswood and its Weirwood tree. Back in Raventree Hall she liked to visit the Weirwood at least once a day, to pray and listen to the cawing of the ravens that filled its branches. She may not be planning to be in King’s Landing for long, but she would continue her habit of visiting the weirwood and leaving offerings of seed or shiny pebbles for the raven’s of the tree. 

Her visit to the hearttree definitely made her more calm and centered, but had also made her late, which was why she was not quick walking the halls as fast as she could while staying in the realm of acceptable lady behavior. If she was in Raventree her skirt would be hiked and she would be full running at this point, but the look on her brother’s face before he left kept her skirts in place. She was sure that her brother would get a letter about her behavior at some point, but perhase not her first day she arrives. 

As she turned another corner she saw an ornate door with two knights cloaked all in white standing at attention. Alysanne paused her rushing feet into a more respectable walk and changed her face to one of worry into her ‘good lady face.’ She approached the door with an introduction, the knight on the left smirking only a little after clearly seeing her sudden change of  to the Kingsgurad before being let in. 

The guard pushed the door open and Alysanne stepped into the chamber, her gaze immediately drawn to the woman seated by the window. Princess Helaena was bathed in teh soft glower of the afternood sun, adding an extra layor of warmth to the woman already dressed in yellow like a welcoming sun. The princess did not seem to notice her entrance, focused as she was on the embroidery in her hands. 

“Your Grace,” Alysanne dipped into a curtsy, her voice steady, “I am Lady Alysanne of House Blackwood, it's an honor to serve you.” She stayed low, waiting for a word, command, or acknowledging hum, but head nod. Eventually, Alys looked up from the floor to see the princesses’ eyes on her, filled with kindness and wonder. 

“Ummm,” At the continued silence, Alysanne rose and held her hands together to stop any awkward fiddling. She had never been a Lady in Waiting, and Raventree Hall had not had a Lady in Waiting since her mother’s passing, so she was not quite sure what she should or should not be doing. “Is there anything I should do Your Grace?”

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[imaginarianisms]

Setting: Dragonstone; afternoon. Weather: Beautiful & sunny for an autumn day. Characters: Alysanne Targaryen, Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen (@burninghils), Saera Targaryen (@brokcncrowns) & Silverwing (bonded to Alysanne; NPC). Plot Summary: Alysanne Targaryen invites Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen from Oldtown & Saera Targaryen from Volantis to Dragonstone on behalf of the Blacks to discuss personal matters and on matters relating to the Dance of the Dragons.

The gardens of Dragonstone were ever growing, with new flowers into bloom each season. Silverwing enjoyed lying here in the sun, her great wingspan splayed out as she rests on her back, only to immediately roll around causing flowers and grass to fly about in her haste at a distantly familiar scent. Grand Dowager Alysanne Targaryen was an incredibly patient woman, and had the resilience to see her house through both the golden ages and the darkest of days for their house, but waiting for her two remaining children to arrive, Alysanne Targaryen could barely contain her excitement. Although the days were dark and dire, at the very least, she was pleased to be able to reunite with them. She had summoned her only remaining son from Oldtown to counsel the Black Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her only remaining daughter from Volantis as an ally in the hopes of aiding her house in its darkest hour. Dark wings, dark words, Lord Alaric Stark used to tell her once when she was feasting at Winterfell so many years ago, and now that time had finally come. The Good Queen had done her best to reconcile the Green and Black factions at court but not even the wife of the Conciliator was able to reconcile this feud. And so it came to blows. And the realm would burn for it. Every night she prayed that her mother the late Alyssa Velaryon would forgive her for not being able to bridge the void between the factions. Because the gods know she wouldn't. But perhaps she could make it right, this once.

Long ago she had sent her son to investigate the Citadel for her and the good of the realm on the matters of prophecy relating to the Others and the prophecy known as The Song of Ice and Fire that Rhaena Targaryen had told her all those years ago to see what he could find where she could not on the basis of her gender. Her daughter had exiled herself to Volantis and made a name for herself there as a wealthy woman. Upon seeing the two familiar faces, Alysanne rises from her place on the dais, dressed to the nines in the Targaryen black and red, her snow white locs cascading down her back and steps down, a pleased grin making its way onto her lips as one arms reaches out while the other drags herself along with her cane made of mahogany, onyx and ruby. Nearby, Silverwing croons, tail lashing excitedly upon seeing the two remaining children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and the elderly woman makes sure to greet both with an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a warm embrace before pulling away, her hands weaving signs as she speaks, her hearing having mostly been lost with age. She'd hoped that just in case Saera did not understand that Vaegon would translate if her voice was too low as she still had difficulty regulating her volume.

❝「Vaegon. Saera. I am so glad that you've arrived. While I wish that we'd have reunited under less dire circumstances, alas... here we are. We have a duty to our house and to the realm if House Targaryen is to remain on the Iron Throne with its rightful queen.」❞

Alysanne looked at the both of them for a long moment, her throat beginning to choke up as she stared at the two of them, oceanic blue eyes alight with maternal pride: they were both fully grown adults now with vastly different legacies of their own, but they would always be her babies. Saera was just as clever as Vaegon in her own way, and she was entirely aware that in their youth, they hadn't exactly gotten along the best, but she'd at least hoped that with time such things had fallen away. The Grand Dowager then beckons the two close to where she'd originally been seated on the dais overlooking Blackwater Bay and into the rose gardens of Dragonstone.

❝Come, we have much to discuss, my darlings.❞

@brokcncrowns @burninghils

[cxnsiglixrx]

Closed Starter

Alysanne rolled her eyes. "You believe this is the time for jests?" The blonde questioned, eyes never leaving his armored form. His legions stood behind him, and hers did the same. While Alysanne did not want a battle, she was prepared to do what needed to be done. 'I want you to kill him, if he does not surrender.' The Empress had told her before leaving. 'You would do that for me, wouldn't you?' Alysanne did not give an answer, because the mere thought of harming Jacques made her sick.

Alysanne took the first step towards him, her own armor clicking as she moved. The terrain was in favor of her husband, she knew that. "I come bearing a message from Emperor Gaius." Her eyes cast a glance towards each soldier, before landing one again back on their commander. "You surrender your swords and abandon this foolish crusade, and his Majesty is willing to let you live." Alysanne felt like she was spitting venom, and it was burning her mouth. "Or, you die." Her eyes told a different story though. As she looked at her husband, her eyes pleaded with him to just...stand down. Cont from here // @mcnarchs

[unbeleveable-archive]

@wcrriorhearts gets an aly starter for aemma

"What do you think, dear one?" Alysanne asked as she set Aemma down before the array of jewels laid out on the bed. "Which should I wear for the feast tonight?"

[bcbliophile]

@wcrriorhearts Alysanne & Aemma

"There you are sweet one-- how are you finding your way around the keep?" Queen Alysanne greeted Aemma with a kiss to the cheek, her hand cupping the other. She was rather proud of how well she was taking to being a wife, she did hope she was also settling in well, she would have come to her sooner, but business had taken her up North and she only just returned.

[ofhumanvoice-a]

@timpahura gets a starter from Alysanne

The Queen cupped her granddaughter's face in her hands, giving her cheek a gentle pat and smiling at her. "What a radiant bride you make, Rhaella," Alysanne said, dropping her hands again and clasping them together. "As lovely as your sister on the day she wed Lord Corlys." Blue eyes twinkled a little as she added, "And, dare I say, just as happy."

[unbeleveable]

Alysanne Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon have been added to the roster.

[branwyn-the-half-witch]

The Wall and the Waning of Magic: 2/2

(this was originally a Twitter thread; re-posting here for ease of reading)

Why Do We Build The Wall?

There are three possibilities I would offer regarding the nature of the Wall on the basis of these observations. Firstly, due to the sheer age of the Wall and the scarce-remembered events, one tantalising possibility is that everyone is wrong, and the Wall was not built as a defence against the Others, but BY them as they fled North from the powers of the Last Hero, Azor Ahai, the monkey-tailed girl, the choirs of the Rhoynar and every other half-remembered hero.

This seems absurd, but the Wall is made of ice, and described often in the same terms as the ice-swords of the Others.

It plainly does not keep out the Others or their servants, as we have indisputably seen, but does potentially cut off the magic of a skinchanger, blocks the agent of the 3EC (allied to the singers) and drains and distresses dragons.

In short, it has a negative effect on all those who could feasibly be described as the enemies of the Others. And yet, when Jon Snow sees it, he is seized with the necessity of keeping the Wall up.

He knows that if the Wall falls, the world falls; but what, famously, does Jon Snow know?

This may be a magical compulsion to ensure the Wall remains, whilst the enemies of its makers are drained by it, weakened to the point where they cannot thwart another Longer Night. It is often asked why the Others woke now, why are the dead marching now? Perhaps it was simply finally time; the dragons gone, the singers and giants barely a memory (and forced closer to the Others geographically than to anyone who might help them). The last great greenseer old, fading and unable to flee.

If Azor Ahai took dragons to war against the dark, if the singers aided the Last Hero...those things seemingly could not happen this time.

Another option is that the Wall – which does have foundations of stone, even if it is largely ice by now – was not initially thus but became corrupted. And we have a ready-made candidate for who may have done that. The Night’s King is a contemporary of Joramun, whose horn can allegedly bring down the Wall (more on him in a moment), married an Other (so they must have still been there) and held the Night’s Watchmen in thrall.

Perhaps his great sin was building or infecting the Wall to begin with, and once it began to drain the magic, magic was not strong enough to throw it down. This man, an enemy of humanity in much the same way as Craster and Euron, chose his side and aided it well, if so. And this may explain why the Black Gate, a creation of the singers, looks decayed, has been blinded and appears to be grieving.

Giants and the Horn of Joramun

However, if either of the above were true, then we should have heard of it by now from someone, surely? We have met some surviving singers, and a greenseer who all have access to the knowledge and memories of their ancient comrades. Surely this would have come up?

So suppose the Wall was build as described and is functioning as designed. Does that mean it isn’t draining magic, and this is all just very coincidental? I think it still is draining the world, because such an enormous ward must require something to power it.

But let me offer a solution: the Wall was always intended to come down.

Joramun was a King Beyond the Wall who joined with the Starks in throwing down the Night’s King. His Horn, sought by Mance, is allegedly capable of bringing the Wall down.

Now, Mance found a horn, which Mel burns, but that horn was assuredly not THE Horn. Its suspected that the actual horn maybe somewhere Old, soon with a side helping of squids.

But why was the fake horn convincing? Tormund tells us that this was because the fake horn was found in a giant’s grave – and the Horn brings down the Wall, we are told, by waking giants from the earth.

The ‘horn that wakes the sleepers’ if you will. My contention is therefore that Joramun was a giant, one of the very ones who helped build the Wall, and that his horn was fashioned as a failsafe to destroy what was made when it was no longer necessary.

Perhaps the hope was, with the singers and giants and First Men closer than ever, with dragons in the East and heroes aplenty the world over, the threat would be held at bay and the gifting of their combined magic to keep the defences strong was a willing sacrifice on all parts. But men forget, and war destroys records, and Doom came upon the dragons.

Conclusion

We are shown at length that, from a humanitarian standpoint, the Wall is evil. The Free Folk are demonised in ways that cannot possibly be true, they are hunted like beasts and left in horrible danger when the real threat arises. What are they if not the men the Night’s Watch swear to defend, as Jon comes to ask? What original sin did they commit, other than living on the other side when it was built?

The Wall also dehumanises and destroys those who serve upon it. The world would be better without the Wall, physically and magically. GRRM has said that the seasons will be restored to normal by the end, and whilst we don’t know the details of what is going to happen, but we all agree – that wall is coming down.

JRR Tolkien posits, through King Theoden, that ‘oft evil will shall evil mar’; if Euron Greyjoy, the Night’s Pirate King, does indeed bring down the Wall and lets winter in, perhaps he shall have done a greater good than he would ever had intended, and given us a chance for spring thereafter. Let’s not thank him for it, though.

Original thread here: https://x.com/BranwynHlfwitch/status/1768776863961243700

[alyofraventree]

Ladies of the Riverlands - A Starter with @sabithafrey-asoiaf-rp

Alysanne’s fingers deftly nocked an arrow, her focus unwavering as she aimed at the distant target. The training yard of the Red Keep was quieter than usual. Alys had become used to the hum, whispers, and sidelong glances she normally received during one of her training sessions, but today was quieter than usual. She drew the bowstring back, her muscles straining with the familiar, comforting tension. With a breath out, she released, watching as the arrow flew true, embedding itself just off the center with a solid thud. 

“Ah fuck.” She said with a sigh before remembering that her brother was very clear that ‘ladies in the capital do not swear.’ Alys took a pause going to retrieve her arrows to take a look around and see if her slip was heard. 

She turned, her eyes scanning the yard until they landed on a vaguely familiar figure leaning casually against a pillar. It took her a moment to scan through the faces in her mind until she landed on a name, Lady Sabitha Frey. The two had met in passing, both being noblewomen from the Riverlands, but nothing more than bows and introductions at crowded Riverland gatherings. But Alysanne was not deft to the rumors of the Lady Frey and found herself breathing out in relief, as she was confident the lady would not be as taken back at her brash language as other ladies might. In truth, the sight of Sabitha Frey brought a small smile to her lips. Perhaps there was someone who might understand the restlessness she has felt since being shipped off to the Red Keep. 

Sabitha stood there, arms crossing and what seemed to be a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. Her presence was a stark contrast to the rigged courtly airs that surrounded them, a reminder of the wild freedom Alysanne missed so dearly. The structures and expectations of the Red Keep felt suffocating at times, a far cry from the forests and open fields of her home where she could ride and hunt to her heart’s content. 

The grandeur and intrigue of the city were both exciting and overwhelming. She enjoyed the company of Princess Helena and her children, but there was still a sorrow for the life she left behind for the sake of ‘being a respectable lady.’ Not to mention, the gossip and sideways glances when she practiced in the training yard were starting to wear on her. It was not so much that she minded, it was just distracting. She missed the familiar comforts of home, of her actions not being constantly questioned by those around her. 

Lady Sabitha’s presence stirred something in her. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she too was known for her unconventional ways, or maybe it was just the comfort of seeing a familiar face from the Riverlands. 

Taking a deep breath, she decided to reach out.

“Lady Frey,” she called out, lowering her bow but keeping her stance relaxed and open. “Care to join me, or are you content to just watch?”

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[astormofsilk]

‘ the gods give just as the gods take away. ’ / for aly asked by @cregn

"Then we should endeavor to enjoy all of what the gods have given us while we are allowed to enjoy it." Alysanne said as she drew back her arrow, voice low not to startle the deer they were trailing. "I plan on enjoying my life, not wasting it pining of what could have been." The arrow flew and buried itself heart of the stag, a quick kill and food for them.

[adreamofsilk]

@denydefeat liked for a starter

Alysanne was only half listening as her brother spoke to the new King. Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell and now declared King of the North and the Riverlands. The war was brutal from the start and so many had lost members of their family all to gain revenge on the murder of Lord Eddard Stark. The Blackwoods were originally Northern and they maintained that status even with their move to the Riverlands. So Tytos was immediately on the side of the Stark boy, ready to help him in any way he could. Her nephews were being assigned to duties and her good sister and niece would be minding the home. As for her…

“𝘼𝙡𝙮𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙. 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙨𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡.”

She tilted her head in acceptance of her brother’s words, shifting as she drew herself to full attention. Alysanne had been called in from a hunt and was still dressed as such, all leathers and chain mail. Her bow was slung over her shoulder and she wondered how what he thought of her. “𝘐𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬.” No one seemed to agree on what they should be calling him, so she settled on the more common phrase she had been hearing. “𝘈𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘈𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺.” She was barely older than her first nephew, born a little over a year before her parents died and her brother became lord.

Tilting her head again she smiled widely at him, wrinkling her nose as she glanced around. “𝘚𝘰…𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧? 𝘐’𝘮 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮.” The boys had told her about it, but she wasn’t sure if she should believe them.

[leschanceux]

@queenifice​ wanted a starter! -

"How's your wound?"

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and Raven: Chapter 6 (The Wedding)

Chapter Summary: The day has arrived, the day the princess and her lord come to marry.

Notes: There is a steamy session, so MDNI !!! 18+ for this chapter,

Word count: 4275

Keep track of the story: masterlist

The camp was busy in the week leading up to Queen Rhaenyra’s arrival at Harrenhall and the Crown Princess’s wedding. Aemma herself scarcely saw Benji throughout the week, having to make quick preparations for her three ceremonies. They concluded Cregan would officiate the ceremony in front of the weirwood tree, Maester Gerardys would do the Seven Faith ceremony, and Princess Rhaenys would officiate for the Valyrian. Rhaenys, being the eldest of the Targaryen clan and grandmother of the bride, had the privilege and right to see her granddaughter bound her heart and soul to her new husband. Baela and Aemma worked on her maiden cloak. A beautiful black cloak with red accents that weaved along the edges, and in the middle is the sigil of House Targaryen, a three-headed dragon embroidered in red thread. To honor her Velayron's heritage, Aemma decided to replace one of the dragon heads with that of the seahorse. Alysanne Blackwood took the liberty to create Aemma’s marriage cloak, which the princess had yet to see, claiming it was her wedding gift to her and her nephew. 

Benjicot and Jacaerys finally seemed to bond with one another, with Benji helping Jacaerys train each day whenever they had the time. Aemma knew she should be happy that her older brother finally accepted her future husband. However, she was annoyed; she had hardly seen Benji this week due to the wedding preparations and any free time instead of spending it together. Benji is occupied with her brother or father. 

Aemma sighed in her bath. She got a letter from her mother stating that they were only a few days away and that she had a special surprise for her. She wondered what it would be; it couldn't be Rhaena and her three youngest siblings, for it was too risky. Maybe it was her wedding gown? Nevertheless, she would soon find out. Aemma stepped out of her bath and quickly threw on a silk chemise, for it was too humid for something thicker. As Aemma walked into her makeshift bed chamber, she gasped at feeling two strong arms around her waist. She soon leaned into the arms, catching the scent that can only be connected to Benjicot. 

“You shouldn’t be in here..” whispered Aemma, not meaning her words as she turned to face Benji. 

Benji smiled crookedly at her as he brought her closer and kissed her. Aemma threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her body to him, deepening the kiss. After a while, Benji’s arms snaked down to her thighs as he raised her, with Aemma hooking her legs to his waist as he led them to her bed. Laying her bed, Benji kissed her neck, careful not to leave any marks. Then, to her cheeks before placing one on her forehead. They never went further than kissing, as much as they both wanted to. Aemma smiled at him; she would never tire of his kisses. Benji lay next to her, bringing her body to press against his as he drew imaginary circles on her thighs. This is how they usually spent the night: Aemma or him sneaking to each other's tents, sleeping in each other's arms, and quickly sneaking back to their own in the morning. So far, no one seemed to catch what the princess and the lord did each night. 

“How was your day today?” asked Aemma, looking up into his stormy eyes. 

“It was fine; your father and brother were explaining to me what to expect from the Valyrian wedding, but after a while, it grew awkward, and Jace practically ran out of the tent.” Chuckled Benji, remembering Jacaerys’s face turning bright red once Daemon explained the last portion of the ceremony. 

Aemma giggled. Yes, she supposed it would be embarrassing to hear that after the blood bonding and vows, Benjicot had to quickly bed her in the middle of the fourteen flames to ensure the gods of Old Valyria would bless her marriage. Usually, it would be done on top of the altar, but since they were in Harrenahll, after the vows, the flames would be taken to a tent, where Benjicot and Aemma would spend some time there before the feast. 

“What about you, my love?” Asked Benjicot as he pressed another kiss on her crown. 

Aemma sighed; she loved hearing those words come out of his mouth. 

“Aly and Cregan walked me through the ceremony that would take place in front of the weirwood tree…. They asked me who I wanted to present me… Jace or Daemon.” Aemma sighed; she was unsure. 

Technically, it should be Jace since her birth father was gone, but Daemon has been her father ever since. She did not want to disrespect Laenor, but she also wanted to honor Daemon. Benjicot thought for a second, knowing her words and concerns were valid. 

“Why don’t you let Jace do the Northern ceremony and have Daemon walk you to the Valryain one? That way, you honor both sides of your family without causing strain?” advised Benji as he was met with another kiss to his mouth. 

Aemma smiled at the kiss as she pulled away, laughing at him when he tried to continue kissing her. “You do know how much I love you?” 

Benjicot smirked, “Yes, but I never grow tired of hearing come out of your pretty lips.” 

Aemma giggled as she placed her head on his neck, “We should sleep if you are going to sneak out before the others wake tomorrow morning.” 

Benji, hmm, and he made himself more comfortable; he couldn’t wait until they could stop sneaking and sleep in the same bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following day, everyone was off doing their daily routines; Benjicot and Jacaerys were training with Daemon and Cregan. Baela was checking with Alysanne about the marriage cloak. While Aemma decided to patrol in the sky, she felt guilty about neglecting Sliverwing and decided to fly over the camp. Just because her wedding was coming soon did not mean the war had paused; they needed to stay vigilant. Aemma was about to turn back when she heard a  Dragon shrill, whipping to the sound. Aemma scanned the air around her… When then, a golden blur soared out of the clouds. Syrax, her mother’s mount, greeted Sliverwing and her rider’s daughter. Then came out the Red Queen herself, Meleys, with her grandmother on top and someone behind her grandmother. Aemma gasped as she commanded Sliverwing to land, seeing a crowd gathering to greet the queen and her party. 

“Mother!” exclaimed Aemma and Jace, each running to their mother. Rhaenyra, teary-eyed, embraced her two eldest children in her arms. Baela ran to Rhaenys, hugging her grandmother. 

Rhaenyra took Aemma’s face, caressing her daughter’s cheek. “Oh, how much I missed you, my Pearl,” whispered Rhaenyra as she kissed her daughter’s brow. 

“I have missed you as well, Muna…” replied Aemma as she looked behind her mother, gasping at the man hugging Baela. 

“Gransire?” questioned Aemma as she saw Corlys smile at the princess. Aemma squealed with delight as she ran to hug her grandfather, who welcomed the princess into his arms and kissed her crown. 

“My little Sea Dragon, you did not think I would miss your wedding now, did you?” questioned Corlys as Aemma stepped back with a massive grin. 

“Oh, I am so happy you are here!” exclaimed Aemma, truly happy that Corlys’s health became well enough for him to travel away from Driftmark. 

Aemma led her family towards the camp as the Vale, Northern, and Riverlands men bowed to the Queen and her royal party. Benjicot was highly nervous; Queen Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys, and Lord Corlys were all a force to be reckoned with, especially concerning Aemma. Luckily, before Rhaenyra reached him, Daemon walked up, bowing to his wife. Rhaenyra froze. She was still upset with his decisions regarding Blood and Cheese. Aemma looked at her two parents and sighed. She, too, was upset with the events, but she also did not want her wedding to turn ice cold with two parents awkwardly dancing around each other. 

“Please, can we not make this awkward for a few days? Allow me to have a happy wedding, and then, if you want, you can continue ignoring each other, just not during my wedding?” Aemma pleaded with her parents in High Valyrian. 

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, nodded to her daughter, and gave Daemon a strained smile. “Of course…. Now introduce me to the lord who managed to win your heart.” 

Aemma smiled as she extended her hand as Benjicot took it, being led to the Dragon Queen. Benjicot gave a nervous smile as he clumsily bowed to his queen. 

“My queen, House Blackwood is honored to fight for you.” he greeted shakenly. 

Rhaenyra smiled at the young lord, finding it endearing how nervous he was. 

“Lord Blackwood, thank you. Again, I want to express my condolences to your father and brother. House Targaryen grieves with you.” 

“Thank you, my queen,” replied Benji as he bowed to her again. 

Rhaenyra nodded as she addressed the rest of the camp, asking them to stand and dismiss them so they could return to their previous activities. Rhaenyra then turned and motioned for her family and the young lord to follow her. Once she entered a tent set up for her, she sat and asked how the wedding preparations were going. 

“They are all set for tomorrow, Mother,” replied Aemma as she held Benji’s hand on her lap. 

“Although I did want to clear up one more thing now that grandsire is here,” she further explained as everyone turned to her and waited for her to continue. 

“Since I have three ceremonies, I need someone to present me for each one, and now I feel confident with my decisions on who I want for each. For the Northern one, I want Gransire to present me, the faith; it will be Jace, and the last one will be Daemon… each representing the most important men in my life,” she whispered, staring at each man, all who seemed surprised but overjoyed in being a part of her wedding. 

Rhaenyra's eyes watered, knowing that Aemma was missing Laenor and Lucerys more than ever. They should have been here witnessing her marriage, but fate was cruel. Everyone else in the room agreed with these decisions, and Corlys asked when the ceremonies would begin. 

Benji cleared his throat, capturing the room's attention. " The first ceremony is based on the old ways of the north. We usually do them at night. It will be small, and only family will be present.” 

“Then we should rest; we have a long day starting tonight. We need to make sure we are not exhausted before reaching the last ceremony,” commanded Rhaenyra as everyone stood leaving the tent.

“Aemma, please stay; I have something to give you,” asked Rhaenyra to her daughter. 

Aemma nodded, smiling at her betrothed as he left the tent. Turning to her mother, she gasped. Her mother held a beautiful ball gown, a black dress with red accents and sheer sleeves. The dress was gorgeous and would greatly complement her maiden cloak. 

“Usually, Highborn ladies would wear white to their weddings, but you are a Valyrian princess; you do not need to follow the ways of the seven,” explained Rhaenyra. 

“It's gorgeous, Mother,” whispered Aemma as she ran her fingers on the red accents. 

“I’m glad you like it. Now go rest; your grandmother, Baela, and I will go later to help you get ready.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

At the hour of the wolf stood the Targaryen, Velaryon, and Blackwood families beside the weirwood trees, all holding torches to light the darkest hour of the night, with Cregan Stark standing before Benjicot waiting for the Princess. It did not take long before they gasped at the sight before them. Princess Aemma truly lives up to her moniker as the Realm’s Pearl. Her beautiful pale hair was pulled into intricate Valyrian braids, her dress showing off her shoulders as it beautifully flowed down her body. Her maiden cloak proudly shows her Targaryen and Velayron heritage. 

As Corlys walked his granddaughter up to the tree, his eyes glistened with tears. Once they reached Benjicot, Cregan cleared his throat. 

“ Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” 

Corlys puffed up, “Crown Princess Aemma, of the Houses Velayron and Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman has grown trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods.” 

Cregan nodded as he turned to Benjicot, who glanced at him, gulping before nodding to continue. 

“ Who comes to claim her?” 

Benji inhaled as he stared at his princess and her grandsire, “Benjicot Blackwood, of House Blackwood, lord to Raventree Hall. 

“Who gives her?” asked Cregan, looking at Colrys. 

“Corlys Velaryon, of House Velaryon of Dritmark,  her grandsire in place of her father, Laenor Velayron,” stated Corlys. 

Rhaenys sniffed as she closed her eyes, remembering her sea dragon, as did everyone else. 

Cregan smiled at the woman he considered his sister, “Aemma, do you take this man?” 

Aemma smiled, looking in her beloved eyes as she answered, “I take this man.” 

Aemma reached out to grasp Benji’s hand as Cregan asked the couple to kneel and hold for a few minutes in silent prayer. Aemma and Benji both kneeled in front of the hearttree. Aemma stared at the face, closed her eyes, and prayed to the old gods, asking them to bless her marriage. After a few minutes, the couple stood as Aly Blackwood stepped forward, holding the marriage cloak that would replace the current one Aemma was wearing. Benji removed Aemma’s maiden cloak before handing it to Corlys, who stepped forward. Then Benji took the cloak from his aunt, smiling in gratitude, as she unfolded the cloak and draped it on Aemma’s shoulder. The Targayens and Velaryons gasped at the marriage cloak. The cloak was House Blackwood red, with a Black three-headed dragon in the middle; around the dragon were ravens that looked like they were flying around it. Rhaenyra, feeling moved, looked at Alysanne, mouthing a thank you as Aly bowed to her queen. With that, Aemma and Benji shared a sweet kiss, sealing their union in the eyes of the Old gods. 

As the families returned to the camps, Benjicot took hold of his bride and carried her bridal style through his tent. They would not consummate the marriage yet, waiting for the Valyrian ceremony later. Morning came faster than they thought, with Aemma changing her hairstyle to loose waves and wearing a tiara her grandsire brought from one of his expeditions. 

Both Aemma and Benji were nervous. This ceremony was the biggest out of the three, with everyone in the camp joining to watch the union of the Dragon Princess and her Raven lord. Maester Gerardys was waiting in the clearing as he would officiate the ceremony in the eyes of the seven. Again, Benjicot was waiting for his bride, feeling more nervous than last night with all eyes staring at him; he hoped he would not mess up the vows. 

Again, gasps were heard as Princess was led down the aisle, Prince Jacaerys walking his sister; both looked like dragon twins. As they reached Benjicot, Aemma kissed her brother’s cheek, whispering a thank you. Jacaerys kissed his sister back and clapped Benji on the back, nodding to him as he joined his family. 

Maester Gerardys clears his throat as he begins the sermon. 

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Once again, this allows Benji to cloak Aemma with her marriage cloak. 

Then Gerardys speaks to the crowd, “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The Maester then takes a cloth and binds the hands of the princess and lord as he says, “Let it be known that Crown Princess Aemma of Houses Velayron and Targaryen and Lord Benjicot of House Blackwood are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

After he speaks the word, he motions for the couple to begin their vows. Turning to each other, Aemma and Benji talk simultaneously. 

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger… “I am hers, and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days… “I am his, and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days.”

Both staring at each other, Benjicot ends with reciting, “With this kiss, I pledge my love,” taking the princess’s face into his hands and placing a kiss, causing the whole camp to cheer for their princess and her lord. Benji flushes as he bows his head while Aemma bites her lip, trying to hold her giggles. 

As the camp makes way for the feast, the Valyrians walk towards a hill where all their dragons rest with fourteen flames in a circle. Rhaenys takes the center with Benjicot, and Daemon leads his daughter to the middle. Again, for the last time, Aemma is handed off to Benji; Aemma teary grins at Daemon and throws her arms around him. 

“Thank you for stepping up and being my Kepa,” she whispers to her father, 

Daemon huffs, trying to hold his own tears, and kisses Aemma’s brow. “I love you, my little sea dragon. Thank you for accepting me as your kepa.” 

Aemma turns to her grandmother, who hands her a dagger; Aemma creates a cut on Benjicot’s lips, taking the blood and rubbing it on his forehead after Benjicot does the same to Aemma. Then Aemma and Benjicot each cut their hands, pressing them together, allowing their blood to mix, creating their blood bond; then Rhaenys hands the cup of wine to the couple. As the couple drinks from it,  Rhaenys starts reciting the vows.  

“Hen lantoni ānogar, Va syndroti vāedroma, Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdeoma iārza sīr, Izulī ampā perzī, Prūmī lanti sēteksi, Hen jeny māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozūndesi, Syndroro ōñō jēdo, mazvestraksi.  (Blood of two, joined as one, Ghostly flame, and song of shadows, Two hearts as embers, Forged in fourteen flames. A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow is spoken through time, of darkness and light.”)  

Benji felt an immense heat grow in his stomach as the candles around them grew taller, signifying that the Valyrian gods approved of this union. Aemma and Benjicot kissed more passionately, knowing that their blood had to mix, and Benji couldn’t help but feel a hunger erupt within him, tasting his wife’s blood in his mouth. Soon, the pair separated as the Valyrians each took hold of a few candles and placed them around the bed in the middle of the tent. Rhaenyra, gave a quick kiss to her daughter as she took her husband's hand, laughing as Jace practically dragged Baela as he ran away from the tent towards the feast. 

Once the tent closed, Aemma, also feeling the heat, turned to her husband; grinning widely, she practically jumped him, kissing him with so much hunger that Benji led them towards the bed. 

~~~~~~SMUT WARNING!!!! PLEASE SKIP IF NOT 18+ or NOT COMFORTABLE~~~~~~~

Benjicot couldn’t understand the heat building up in him as he began fonding Aemma, moving from her lips and kissing down her jaw and then neck, spending time sucking and biting where her pulse was. Aemma gasped at the feeling, spreading her legs, allowing him to rest more easily in between her legs.  

Benji moved his mouth on top of her bosom, Aemma’s corset pushing them up for him to kiss. Aemma mewled, pulling at his hair and making Benji groan at the sensation. Sitting her up, he began to unlace her dress, pulling it off, exposing her body to him and the night chills; Aemma, in turn, took off her husband’s shirt as Benjicot kicked off his trousers, leaving him in his breeches. 

Laying his wife down again, he took one of her perky breasts into his mouth, his hands slowly traveling in between her legs. Aemma gasped his name, running her hands through his hair. 

“Ben…please… yes..” whispered Aemma, feeling his fingers slowly tease her soaking cunt.

Benjicot grins, enjoying the sweet sounds coming out of his wife’s mouth before moving his fingers away, which makes Aemma whine. 

“Please, what, my love? I can’t give until you ask.” taunted Benjicot as he traced her thighs. 

Aemma playfully glared at him, “Touch me, Ben; I want your fingers inside of mhm.”  

She couldn’t finish as Benji slammed his mouth to hers, slowly easing one finger in her and pulling it out, adding another, and pushing in and out until he felt he could add a third. Aemma was withering underneath him. The feeling of his fingers going in and out of her was overwhelming. She gave a loud moan once she felt him use his other hand to rub her clit. Benji grunted, his own hard cock twitching with everything delicious sound coming out of the princess's mouth. Aemma felt a growing sensation in her stomach, nearing her climax before Benji stopped. 

“No, Please,” gasped the princess, watching as Benjicot removed his fingers and placed them in his mouth, sucking on them.  

Then Benji kissed her, letting the princess taste herself, and he rubbed his clothed bulge on her soaking cunt. Aemma whined again, closing her eyes as she grabbed onto his shoulder. 

“ Tell me what you want, my princess, for I am just your lowly servant meant to serve you,” whispered Benji as he placed his forehead. 

Aemma shuddered as she forced her eyes open, staring into her husband’s eyes. 

“Take Ben, Take me, let the whole camp know I am yours,” commanded Aemma.

Benjicot growled as he ripped off his breeches, releasing his weeping cock, and rubbing it on her entrance. 

Aemma nodded and sharply inhaled, feeling him enter her; he was large and thick. It was painful and pleasurable at the same time. Benji waited for a moment, allowing her to get used to him. Closing his eyes, he nearly finished her; she was warm and tight. Afterward, Aemma permitted him to start moving, groaning, and feeling him move steadily. Benji also groans, her walls clenching him with every thrust.  

“Faster…” commanded Aemma, to which Benji was more than happy to comply; moving faster and harder, he grabbed one of her breasts, fonding it as Aemma began meeting him with each thrust. Soon, both felt warmth growing in their bodies and the room as they chased their release. 

Benji groaned, picking up one of Aemma’s legs and placing it on his shoulder, going more profoundly inside of her, making Aemma moan loudly. Aemma began whispering yes as she dragged her nails down his back, giving him painful pleasure; feeling his release, he lowered her legs and kissed her as his thrust started moving choppily. 

“Yes, Ben, please, please, finish inside me…. Give me your babe. I need your babe.” Pleading Aemma as her climax washed over her. 

Benjicot soon followed after, shooting his spend inside her walls, moaning out her name, picturing her heavy with his babe. During their Climax, the fourteen Flames rose exceedingly before extinguishing, leaving the couple gasping in the dark.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Welcome back~~~~~~ 

Aemma held her husband close to her, feeling incredibly warm. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she knew they had to make some appearance in the feast. As she moved his sweaty hair from his forehead, she kissed him before trying to get up. Benji whined, not wanting to move, huffing as Aemma explained that they needed to be at the feast. Sitting up, he gave his wife a quick kiss before dressing. 

Once the couple finished dressing, they walked hand in hand to the feast; once the Blackwood knights saw their lord and princess, they began whistling, causing Aemma to blush. 

The royal family smiled at the couple, with Corlys, Daemon, and Jacaerys not making eye contact, to the amusement of the women. Aly Blackwood embraced the couple, and Aemma joked as if she should call her lady aunt now. Rolling her eyes, she explained that Aly was just fine. 

Everyone was enjoying the feast, making toasts and jokes around the camps. Unbeknownst to them in the dark distance was a knight wearing green with a golden dragon, staring at the celebration before galloping away, never being noticed. 

The festivities went well into the early morning before anyone went to bed. Aemma decided to sleep in her husband's tent, feeling whole. In what seemed only minutes, Jace awoke Aemma harshly, staring at her worriedly.

“Jace, what’s wrong?” asked Aemma as she sat up, noticing Benjicot still sleeping beside her. 

“Get dressed, wake Ben, and come to our mother’s tent quickly!” he stated, rushing out of the tent. 

Aemma’s heart was beating fast with worry. She woke Benji, quickly explaining while dressing in a red tunic and riding pants. Benjicot also followed as the two ran to the Queen’s tent. Rhaenyra let out a breath, seeing the couple enter. 

“Muna, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” asked Aemma, looking around the room and seeing grim faces. 

Rhaenyra turned to her daughter. “A letter came in this morning. Lord Darklyn is dead, Duskendale has fallen, and Lord Staunton has asked us to help him. The greens are moving,” the queen explained to her daughter and good-son, seeing both pale. Let the Game of Thrones begin.

[unbeleveable-archive]

@bronzebtch liked for an Alysanne starter

"How is my grandson treating you, dear?"

It was the queen's first visit to the Vale since Daemon and Rhea's wedding and specifically made to visit the young couple. Of course she would have to pay a visit to the newly installed Lady of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn, but Runestone was her first top. Upon arriving, Alysanne had found that Daemon was out flying, but that only gave her some time alone with Rhea.

"With affection and respect, I hope."

[chaosfae-writes]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

synopsis; a tender moment away from the chaos.

pairing; Alicent Hightower x brown!Targaryen!reader

a/n; a drabble for my love, mine all mine. requested by a lovely mutual from ao3. fluff for my gay mothers. they deserve it.

It’s a miracle from the Seven that the raven hasn’t been struck dead by the heat of Alicent’s eyes.

A letter has arrived, hailing from Dragonstone. Princess Rhaenyra declares her soon return to King’s Landing—- the note wrinkles under Alicent’s fingers.

It has been two months.

Two months since the incident with Vaemond—- who broods in his self-pity. He's been a sore thumb, he doesn’t quite mesh well in the king’s court. He reeks of the sea, and his insistence of traveling to Driftmark has not ceased.

Rhaenyra, nor Laenor doesn’t have any inkling that Alysanne has been born. Alicent has relished in her selfishness, savoring all her time with Alysanne, and you.

Even in the past days, Vaemond has barely held Alysanne—- Alicent ensured of that. Now the Realm’s Delight is to return and soil Alicent’s life once more.

A dread burdens Alicent’s mind as she tosses the letter in the fire’s pit, watching it smolder to ash within the flames.

Alicent worries. She worries that Rhaenyra will meddle. Snatch Alysanne under the guise of a doting aunt—- and her plain featured sons mingling with Alysanne, Alicent scoffs under her breath.

A sinking sensation caves inside Alicent’s cavity, her footfalls faltering.

Mutely Alicent enters her chambers, moving in the silence as a mouse.

Her quarters are warm, provided heat from the burning hearth. Thankfully, the windows are shielded by the floor-length double curtains—- white and green. A comforting dimness casts upon Alicent. Candles are lit, providing a dew hue.

A spacious chamber, meant for the queen, her only reprieve. In the corner, is a cradle with toys.

Sniffling as her shaky fingers unclip her earrings—- she stops in her tracks.

On her massive bed, there lay three sleeping lumps huddled.

Alicent quietly steps closer to the bed, a small tender smile curls at her lips. Sunk into the massive stitched quilts, pale and sepia arms interlocked—- and tucked in the middle is a small bundle with short tuft of silver, and chubby brown curling fists.

Helaena rests to the left, as you lay asleep on the right of the mattress. Alysanne stretches her small arms, and settles back in her sleep.

Alicent is grateful that you can understand Helaena—- and be her comfort. Helaena is a painfully shy, and odd child, but she is Alicent’s pride and joy.

That Targaryen strangeness, how sweetly you would coddle Helaena as a little duckling. Especially, when Helaena would get fussy, you always calmed her down.

It’s only you that Alicent fully trusts with her children, how you helped her when she didn’t feel any bond with them when they were freshly born.

Eased the burden of motherhood, let her rest when the children got too rambunctious, and she felt the threads of her sanity snapping.

Alicent quietly sits at the edge, her hand finding rest on your hip, caressing you through the embroidered quilt. A sweet sight that calms Alicent, the stresses melting away from her skin.

Alicent’s hand leans to Alysanne’s little chest, feeling her breathing under her palm. Her finger stroking the plump cheek, her small sleepy huffs. Moving to Helaena’s silver head, curling her hair behind the shell of ear.

Alicent’s body yearns to rest, she stands to get up for her vanity.

Alicent tugs on the emerald fabric, undressing and freeing her flesh. The dress falls in a wrinkled bundle by her feet, leaving her in her undergarment sheath.

Walking to her dresser, as she untangles the gold ringlets from her thick waves. One by one, removing the rings on her fingers —- all but one.

The one you gifted her, on that day on Dragonstone. Alicent can still feel the warmth of the sun, and the sweet whispers of shared vows. She twirls the bejeweled ring between her finger tips, a small smile curls.

Bare from jewelry and confining lace, thick waves of curls bounce down to the nape of spine, Alicent’s eyes gaze through her mirror—— catching yours in the reflection.

She hums a giggle. With a grace to her step, Alicent walks to the bed. Curling under the quilt, you gaze at Alicent sleepily. Cuddling Helaena’s little body to her chest, Alicent interlocks her ankles with yours.

You can tell by the way Alicent’s eyes droop that she’s been thinking too hard —- worrying too hard.

Tenderly, your knuckles graze Alicent’s cheek. “What ails you, my dearest?” The pad of your thumb soothes under her eye, cupping her face. Alicent holds your hand in hers, eyes closing with a dejected sigh.

For a split second, you stare at her red cuticles.

“Nothing of importance.” Alicent says, kissing your wrist. “The council’s insistent bickering over the realm.” She swallows.

It pains Alicent not to be honest with you, but your love for your sister has not yet simmered. She intends to keep you away from Rhaenyra as long as she can, hoping that a distance can be reached between your eldest sister and yourself.

Not only for yourself, but for Alysanne’s future.

“As the Princess, I order you to stay,” both of you giggle quietly. “I command the Queen’s presence.”

“Ah, how could I disobey an order?” Alicent jests. A happy toothy smile. A comfortable heat encases you both. Alicent plays with Alysanne’s soft tuft of hair.

“How did they fair the day?” Alicent asks.

“They fell asleep rather quickly,” you say, looking at the girls adoringly. “Helaena was excited to show Alysanne her toy bugs.”

Alicent scrunches her nose, “I prefer the wooden ones, I found one crawling near my dresser.” You suck in your lips, to stifle the laugh that rips in your chest, shaking.

Alicent tuts, “Pray to the Gods, you don’t discover a beetle dancing in your sheets.” She speaks through a laugh, her smile wanton now. Her cheeks glowing.

Small conversations, and a few kisses flowed through the hour. Within the noon, all fell in slumber, hugging in embrace.