#*[ TARGARYEN H : STARTERS ]

[amongthevipers]

@legends-and-savages sent i’ll take care of everything. i promise. / from Ilithyia

helaena nodded solemnly, holding jahaerys to her chest while she sat on her bed. the funeral was set to begin in a few hours, but it was already time for everyone to begin getting ready. her father was dead, there was a black gown laid out next to her on the bed, and at her feet maelor was toddling about as if nothing was amiss. she shifted the baby in her arms as she felt ilithyia gently pull her hair over her shoulder and begin to come out the strands. "i'll be queen soon," helaena mumbled into her son's hair. "bring him here," she commanded only slightly louder than she had been before because maelor had begun trying to pull open the door.

[isgull]

helaena likes being alone. as princess, as queen, it was nearly impossible; if there wasn't a knight or two stationed outside her door then there was a lady's maid inside. regardless, most nearby presences did tend to allow her to keep herself busy. watching but at the same time ignoring. she was one for little conversation anyway, in stark contrast to her brothers. especially to aegon, but being around him always made her feel the need to speak. "jaehaerys asked for you earlier."

@ironwoven - for aegon ! starter call.

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine you are a hostage under Aemond Targaryen’s watch. What then?

Warnings: smut, angst, drama.

Recommendations: “Yellow Flicker Beat”, “Team” by Lord; “Midnight Rain” by Taylor Swift.

***

Sun starts to rise in the skies, sending away the remaining stars that once shone in the darkest universe above. You watch as the day replaces night, unable to sleep after last events.

Your eldest brother perished during the war, but the next one, Lord H/N, your father’s second son, rose in eminence and deciding to change the game by aligning with the Greens… by sending you as hostage.

Although you are treated well, mostly due to your noble position, you feel cold where there should be fire, you ghost yourself and feel useless.

It could be worse, though. You have felt Aegon’s eyes chasing you in your first days at court until Lord Aemond took you somewhere else. You suspect you are locked in a tower that belongs to the Hightower family, but why does it matter?

Rich clothes are still a cage however comfortable they may be.

A sudden noise takes you abruptly out of your thoughts and fear comes uninvited again, crawling into your thoughts and slaving your reason, leading you to believe that you might be killed anytime…or worse.

Steps come through the hallway before stopping to open the door that leads to your privy chambers. Right before you stands Lord Aemond Targaryen, whose epithets have been long enough to leave you frightened.

When he walks in, Aemond doesn’t shy away from the fear that is so obviously stamped in your features. Instead, he does what he usually do when he’s at his household and serves himself some wine.

The prince is well aware of your expectations and he may be using the awkward silence that hangs between you two in his favour.

“If I wanted to have you killed, you would not be here”, his husky voice echoes, turning at you now that he’s served you and him two glasses of red wine.

But you refuse of course. Aemond shrugs and takes his usual seat, all too comfortable for you.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t risk my life in an attempt against yours?”, you snort.

He is so cold, so beastly cold that inspires you nothing but loathing. But maybe you exaggerate it because Aemond is an enemy to your house—and he’s saved you from his brother, this part refusing to be acknowledged.

But of course the prince does not let it slip away.

“Is this how you thank me after removing you from the claws of my brother? Weren’t for my intromission, you’d be carrying another bastard for now.”

The ugly truth has you clenching your jaw. Silence thus remains before Aemond breaks it again.

“Why are you putting such a drama to the situation? You are allowed to go elsewhere besides here”, he makes a gesture with his hands to have his point proven.

You sigh, unwilling to speak. But since silence has been your company for last two weeks, you eventually comply to his starter to a conversation.

“I miss my home”, you admit it out loud, albeit reluctantly.

Aemond turns his good eye at you and it gives you shivers.

“I lament that”, he sounds honest. “These are not the best circumstances to stay far from home.”

“What would he know about that sentiment?” You scoff to yourself, but Aemond hears the resentment in your words, attracting his attention, albeit reluctantly.

“Wars prevent warriors to deepen their bonds with their homes. Are we all different from each other, lady Y/N?”

Something about your eyes leads him to think this is a princess caged in a cell, however comfortable it is. A bird with broken wings, powerless, but not defeated.

“My lord”, you are interrupted by the chamberlain, who interrupts the thread carefully. “Lady Alys is here.”

“Delightful”, he says, although you don’t believe he sounds delighted by his mistress’s presence.

Why should I care with his sentiments?

You decide to leave your bedchambers, standing as he does. When you both move to the door, tension hangs loose.

“…I thought you said I was allowed to leave my quarters”.

“I did.”

You don’t say anything and neither does he. You sigh impatiently and push the door open, storming out.

Like a bird eager to fly.

With no knowledge there may be a hunter watching the steps of the prey…

***

“You sound worried, my lord”, Lady Alys whispers in his ear, her arms snaking from behind, chin rested over his shoulder. “What troubles you?”

“I am not”, he lies. “We are fighting an unending war.”

“Fighting for what’s not yours”, she muses. “Let others take their own heels. Your lordship needs naught this.”

Aemond chooses the silence. Truth be told, however, is that he is annoyed by your presence. Your quiet, irritating and broken promise. Like a ghost in chains, your steps are silent and yet… when confronted, the shine your presence once casted in others is eclipsed.

And this painful angst is like a melody to his own. He doesn’t like your pride, but he too is prideful. He doesn’t like your silence, but he says nothing. He doesn’t like your monochromatic decisions, but he dresses and behaves in green.

You are his mirror, a reminder of his sheltered present. And he hates you for it.

But of course it’s easier to blame it on the war he’s been waging for a few years.

“Duty is the sacrifice of good sense, I suppose”, he muses. “I am bound to my family, lady Alys.”

“As it should”, she concedes. “Hence why your conscience should rest easy.”

“And it is”, Aemond retorts.

After a while, he begins to think he’s growing tired of Alys. Aemond abruptly removes of her presence and throw over his nude frame green robes.

“Where is my prince going?” Lady Alys inquires, panic growing in her throat at the possibility of losing her gold man.

And this fear may not be entirely unreasonable when Aemond, who once confided his secretive thoughts, leaves the privy chambers in silence.

***

You seem to find peace amongst the large gardens of Lord Aemond’s household. Indeed, large as they are, they provide you solace from the outside events. It’s here where you don’t feel like a prisoner, but momentarily like someone searching for a place to hide.

“I thought I might find you here”, his husky, cold voice startles you.

Your chest goes heavy and Aemond notices the fear his presence inspires you. Part of him wishes to convince you he’s not what you’ve been told. Another, however, is too tired to make an effort.

Whatever’s between them prevails, though, and speaks:

“I mean no harm to you, Lady Y/N.”

Despite the evident distrust, you opt for trying. You have nothing to lose anyway.

“Why are you here?”, you ask softly. “Is it time for use me as a bargain to your brother’s wars?”

Aemond chuckles dryly. He is annoyed by Aegon’s name, but his voice is carefully measured:

“I am here with no other purpose than making you a company, my lady. I believe we’ve started in wrong terms.”

You want to believe in him, despite your early distrust.

“What about Lady Alys? Didn’t she provide you better company?”

Aemond rolls his eyes and for a moment you fear he might lose his temper. Instead, he shrugs and says:

“Who cares about her?”

***

As every minute turns into hours and hours, in days, you come to find Aemond Targaryen not the most unpleasant of the creatures. Though you are the one who speaks more, you are surprised by how attentive he actually is, when hearing you sincerely about your past, your home…

Soon, you’ve opened up to him more than you ever have with your own family.

“What is making you overthinking?”, Aemond asks you, subtly taking you out of your thoughts.

You both are found at the gardens again. It’s an autumn day, with red leaves painting the floor, leaving the trees naked to the winds.

“Overthinking?”, you ask, confused.

“Yes. You are frowning and fidgeting in your seat, which means you are anxious about something. What’s it?”

Once more, Aemond sees he surprised you. You’d think he’d not pay attention to you, but his actions clearly state otherwise.

“I was just…”

“Yes?”

You cast him a long glance. So suddenly his one good eye doesn’t fright you anymore; his silence is not cold; his presence is rather welcoming.

Oh.

“I was just realizing how observing you are.”

Aemond side smirks at you, and you feel weak in your knees.

“I am a soldier, madam. It’s what men like me do: observe.” But he wishes to tell you that you are not invisible to any men’s eyes either.

It does trouble Aemond that lately when he makes love with Lady Alyx, all that comes to his mind is you. He wonders what’d be like to savor your tongue against his, to feel your breasts under his palm, to make you sing his name whilst he does unspoken things to you.

Hence why he decides to stay away. But he always comes back to you, aware that you have no clue how you affect him in the same measure he ignores how reciprocal all of this is.

“True, I know”, you say nonchalantly, but Aemond sees the disappointment in your face, which makes him wonder that perhaps not all is lost.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to scare you”, he steps closer and takes hold of your hand.

As you raise your eyes and notice how closer you are, a shiver runs over your spine. But something about his staring makes you boldly stare:

“I’ve grown used to you, lord Aemond. I would not like to see you leaving so soon.”

He takes your hand and there presses a kiss, locking gazes with you.

“So have I, Lady Y/N. Rest assured that I will come back to you. This is a promise I shall keep.”

***

Shadows creep from divers places. But, like the stories you’ve read of beings who ruled the underworld, it is only a matter of time before one grows used to it.

Stone pillars that hold the structures of the prince’s castles no longer feel cold like the bars of cage. Little by little they offer you a different kind of comfort—specially now that she is gone.

Dressed in a deeper shade of green, your name is whispered as you move freely from one side to the other, waiting.

Waiting to be free? Waiting for the captor who’s been your savior since the beginning?

You wait for him. Patiently so. Even when news of war that reach you sound bitter, humming defeat, there is nothing you want that is not him.

Your family has long forsaken you, no longer shouting your name proudly in great salons. But such memory is now dust in the wind, and you know the prince is the only one who sees you as you really are.

It’s an exhausting war to wage. Nevertheless, the silver haired prince does not take long enough to land. Victory is now green’s and he does not wish to take part to it. There is resentment, there are wounds, but above all pain there is you, your goodness sparkling in the beat of his heart.

The moment you hear Vhagar’s howl is the moment you know. It’s close to moon time, but you don’t mind. You run to him and Aemond side smiles when spotting your figure running in his direction.

A coincidence—or perhaps a deep connection that bonds one to the other—is that your hair is partly braided whilst his is fully braided. He notices the green velvet that reinforces your curves and he is almost rigid instantly. But he focus in the liberty that finally reaches your soul when seeing love in your eyes.

“My midnight rain!”, you greet him not in a noble manner, but throwing your hands around his neck.

He doesn’t mind it. Smelling your lavender scent, Aemond rests his hands around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you softly before placing you down.

With no waiting, he pursuits your kiss and you mewl in his arms, kissing him back. Lips collide, souls intertwine. It’s slow motion, matching, peaceful even…

“My sunshine”, he speaks calmly, resting his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

Locking lips again, the world does not spin when it’s just you and him. No more pain, no more distances. No more wars—internally, externally, crudely.

“You are mine now, aren’t you?”, you need a confirmation, which makes Aemond smile fully. Your fears still echo past traumas, the need of recovering so subtle and yet he urges to have the same medicine.

“Yes. I will make you my lady”, he doesn’t ask, there is little need to it; no, this is Aemond stating possessively, the way you want him to, the reassurances that shall remain.

You smile, rubbing your nose against his.

“My lord.”

***

Door is open. You are there brought by local maidens. He is waiting for you, completely bare—exposed under his gaze, with his other eye showing the sapphire only used to reinforce his power. But he is himself to you, aware you take this prince for who he is.

You dress a light shade of lavender gown, hair loose. Right before him, the maidens leave you in likewise state: nude and exposed. You instantly cover your intimate parts, flushing all the way.

Aemond promptly dismisses curious witnesses. This is a private moment between wife and husband, but for some reason this is not why you feel so suddenly shy.

“My lady”, he comes at you, searching for your hand and locking with his, whilst using another hand to touch your face and pull your hair behind. “Why are you shying away from me?”

“I…”, you hesitate, but right there is impossible to keep your thoughts to you when his eyes perfure you intently. “I am not…her.”

“Her?” Aemond is confused, but then he realizes. “Ah. But why would you think so, my dear?”

He side smirks when seeing your face going deep red. Still avoiding his gaze, you know how silly you sound when you say:

“I am a maid, lord. Younger than you, I know nothing of the world. This might frustrate you.”

Aemond chuckles lightly. His hands run up and down your arms before cupping your face so you’d look into his eyes.

“I married my lady. I chose you to be my wife because my heart is irrevocably yours. I love no one else than Lady Y/N Y/LN. What I had with Lady Alys shall not interfere because it’s dust now.” And then he whispers in your ear. “I promise you I am patient.”

Your face still reddens when your lips pull into a smile. Aemond smiles back.

“My dear dove, such a pure creature. I am unworthy of your devotion, me being the darkest of creatures.” He rests his forehead against yours, hands now around your back.

“You are, my darling. Redeemed of mundane sins, you are here to take me higher than I deserve. I will gravitate to you, here and always.”

As if to renew unofficial vows, you kiss his lips, regaining confidence as he welcomes you in his arms. It’s that usual, familiar kiss: slow and patient.

Skin against skin, first touch gradually burns, you begin to experience a different kind of fever. As your hands pace from his face to his long, silver hair, his gently move from your back to your shoulders, pulling you to bed as he takes a seat at the edge of it.

“Let me admire you”, he hisses under his breath as he watches you with a lust you never before glimpsed in his moderated self.

You like to feel desired. You don’t wait for his moves, so instinctively grab his hands and pull them over your chest. Aemond smirks at you, playing thus with each nipple, eyeing how your body reacts.

You throw your head back, mouthing a silent “o” as he starts to corrupt you. When his lips reach your hard nipple, you promptly rub a leg to the other, dripping wet in between.

Aemond is, like he promised, patient, though. To dominate you requires time and he has plenty. The silver haired prince feels already hard as he tastes you with his tongue, biting your nipples gently as he caresses each breast in his own pace.

“My lord!”, you whimper as a result, hands playing with his hair.

“Mm”, he sighs heavily, looking for your eyes as he carefully steps back.

To his amusement, you do meet his gaze, but rather impatient.

“Why did you stop?”

“Why should we rush?”, he smirks at you in an eminent tease.

As you pout, he gently places his finger to brush over your mouth…not entirely expecting that you’d take it and suck it, making him quite hard.

When seeing the meaning of it—you are not entirely unversed in these matters, you have not just practiced it—, you go down to your knees.

“Lady…”, he tries to fight this urge away; you are his maiden, not a hooker, but when you first start to caress his manhood, his mind goes blank.

“Is this good, lord? Do teach me if I’m doing something wrong…” as innocent as you speak, the words don’t match your purity and leaves Aemond more aroused than he’d care to admit.

Indeed, though natural you might be, he helps you in doing it better… surprised by when you cast a look at his length and, why not, do what you once heard your maidens did with their mouths.

And it’s so much better than both of you would admit. But this is only the beginning. You’d come to know there is more to enjoy.

***

When being under his well built muscles, under his lustful gaze, you know there is no better place to be. It’s a painful pleasure to experiment, and though Aemond is concerned not to hurt you, you like all the same.

It takes not much before he sends his seed into you, or when you follow him, finding yourself in a very different paradise taught by the holy septs.

“Was it good for you?”, he asks you gently, embracing you as he flops to your side.

“It was perfect”, you lean against him, caressing his face, his eyebrows, his cheeks. “I love you, my prince.”

Aemond smiles blissfully, leaning to kiss your forehead.

“I love you too, my sunshine.”

Time stops for you and this is only the new beginning you both deserve after a long period of conflicts. Barely you two know that you’d conceived that night… or barely he suspects that every night you’d be there for him in every manner a dragon like him, burning endlessly for your prince.

[sesikudadaryti]

❈ T H A T I S T H E O R D E R O F T H I N G S ❈

like this post for a short starter from Rhaenys Targaryen.

THIS MUSE IS CANON DIVERGENT AND HEADCANON BASED.

[nvrqn-a]

@moresaints starter call.

and so she is announced, Q U E E N rhaenys targaryen, first of her name, queen of the seven kingdoms, queen of andals and first men, P R O T E C T O R of the realm, as she enters the hall. it has been years since she was first crowned, but it still feels R I G H T. " i hope you were not kept waiting for T O O long. " she speaks to her esteemed guest.

[marblecarved]

@stormbcrn sent a letter to maryana celtigar: ‘‘ 💬 ’’

prompt: send 💬 for me to make you a starter with a random line of dialogue from this generator.

Many years have passed since the last time dragons have graced the sky above Claw Isle, and now there are three of them circling around it, their cries ringing in the air and sounding like a long forgotten song. They are probably trying to find a place to land, Maryana thinks to herself, observing them from below at a safe distance with eyes wide with awe, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and disbelieving laughter bubbling up her throat.

Yesterday, these dragons were nothing more than something she would read about in yellowed books the Celtigars of old who tried to become dragonriders left around; Yesterday, only a fossilized dragon egg, hidden deep down in the treasury, was the closest she ever got to a dragon. Today, however, with the unexpected arrival of Daenerys Targaryen at Claw Isle, all that she knew tripped on itself, turned and changed.

If her grandsire could see this now… ! He is still in King's Landing, per his last raven, and Maryana is not sure if she should tell him of Daenerys' arrival; Though he did leave Claw Isle in her hands for now, a part of her feels like it would be best not to, unsure of what he would do with the information. The sound of stones shifting under someone's feet tugs Maryana's attention away from the dragons and her thoughts, and she shifts, turns towards the sound, and stills when she see who is behind her. ❝ My lady, ❞ a quick, respectful bow accompanies the greeting tumbling out her mouth. ❝ H-how long have you been standing there ? ❞

[crowsandmurder]

Ser Jaime Lannister

Jaime  ✖ (Aesthetics)

Jaime ✖ (Thoughts)

Jaime  ✖ (Character Development)

Jaime  ✖ (Crack)

Jaime  ✖ (Headcanons)

Jaime  ✖ (Photos)

Jaime  ✖ (Starter Call)

Jaime  ✖ (Verses)

VERSES:

K N I G H T E D

Knighted at a young age, Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock quickly became one of the best Knights in the 7 kingdoms. He was knighted by the age of 16, and enjoyed being a Knight, building on his skills more and more, all the time. He wanted to join the Kingsguard, at his sister's urging, so he could stay in King's Landing. Since his youth, he'd been in a relationship with his twin sister, Cersei. He also was the only one in his family that was nice to his brother, Tyrion. But, his father did not like this plan and broke off Cersei's betrothal to King Rhaegar Targaryen and took her back to Casterly Rock.

H A N D O F T H E K I N G

Jaime was named to the Kingsguard and named hand of the King, by Aerys Targaryen II, as he became the youngest to do both. At the height of Robert's Rebellion, Tywin and the Lannister army came back and swore they were back to support them, but Jaime knew his father better than that. It didn't take long for them to attack, and when Jaime realized what the King was up to, and the fact that the pyromancer had helped him, he felt he had no choice but to kill them both, to keep them from killing everyone.

K I N G S L A Y E R

That act would get Jaime Lannister the name 'Oathbreaker' and 'Kingslayer'. He never told anyone at the time the truth about the 'Mad King', and was annoyed by the word, 'Kingslayer,' but Robert Baratheon pardoned him, as well as marrying Cersei. Jaime was able to stay working in the Kingsguard. Cersei had three children: Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, all of which are unknowingly fathered by Jaime, unbeknownst to Robert.

LORD COMMANDER

When Robert dies and Joffrey becomes King, Jaime becomes Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He served under both Joffrey and Tommen, but ultimately left King's Landing, after problems with the Faith Militant.

THE LANNISTERS ALWAYS PAY THEIR DEBTS

Jaime had many journeys back and forth to King's Landing, leading the Lannister army, fighting against the dead and ultimately, going back to King's Landing, in the end.

FACECLAIMS:

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau

BIOGRAPHY:

Jaime's Book of Brothers Entry:

Jaime squired for Barristan Selmy against the Kingswood Outlaws. Knighted and named to the Kingsguard in his sixteenth year for valor in the field: At the Sack of King's Landing murdered his king, Aerys the second, at the foot of the Iron Throne:Pardoned by King Robert Baratheon; Thereafter known as the Kingslayer. After the murder of King Joffrey I by Tyrion Lannister served under King Tommen I. Captured in the field at the Whispering Wood: Set free by Lady Catelyn Stark in return for an oath to find and guard her two daughters. Lost his hand. Took Riverrun from the Tully rebels, without loss of life. Lured the Unsullied into attacking Casterly Rock, sacrificing his childhood home in service to a greater strategy. Outwitted the Targaryen forces to seize Highgarden. Fought at the Battle of the Goldroad bravely, narrowly escaping death by dragonfire. Pledged himself to the forces of men and rode north to join them at Winterfell, alone. Faced the Army of the Dead, and defended the castle against impossible odds until the defeat of the Night King. Escaped imprisonment and rode south in an attempt to save the capital from destruction. Died protecting his queen.

More about Jaime:

That's what the Book of Brothers says about Jaime Lannister, anyway. But, he was never fond of writing about h is own exploits, despite the arrogant demeanor, that he displayed much of his life. He is the oldest son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister, twin brother pf Cersei and older brother to Tyrion. He is from House Lannister of Casterly Rock, has been a knight, since he was 16. Despite the fact that his sister and father shun his brother, he is extremely close to his brother, always seeing him as an equal. His relationship with his sister is by far, the most complex in his life. They have always been an extension of each other, came into the world together and he agrees with her, that they will leave it. They began an incestuous relationship when they were young, and have continued it, despite the ups and downs. When he was kidnapped, he wanted to get back to her. Even when they were apart and things seemed like they would never see each other again, Jaime ran back to her side, unwilling to let her die alone. Although as he grew older, he became a much deeper person who helped with wars and battles, he still viewed himself as a hateful person, who has always done everything he could, to get back to Cersei. He fought in many battles, helped enemies, fought enemies, lost a hand, defending the honor of a woman who he would grow to care deeply about. Despite his immoral behavior, Jaime is a knight until the end, making sure to keep his oaths many times, while still trying to navigate a on and off relationship that is toxic for him, not because she was his twin, but because she was awful to him.

[hiddensteel]

@stovmborn  said             ❝ the reality is, sometimes you’ll be all you have. ❞

        ❝  i’m well aware of that. ❞        a hint of ICE coated her words. she should feel sorry for her tone, it wasn’t the most ladylike despite not being terribly harsh, but the targaryen’s words had touched upon a sensitive spot. her lips pursed. she knew better than anyone what it was like to be truly alone. allies and family might surround her now, but for moons she’d been LOCKED AWAY in king’s landing without even a friendly acquaintance. she didn’t need a stranger seemingly speaking as if they were not equals and instead trying to educate her on one of the world’s h a r s h truths.

bloom sentence starters   |   accepting !

[ofbracken]

[ open starter ] [ post purple wedding ] [ highgarden ]

Some may say Harry was out the door before the Boy King hit the floor. 

Perhaps he was paranoid, or maybe he had just seen his fair share of poison. He hadn’t had the best of views of the proceedings, but he had heard the cries for help and the rush of well meaning lords and ladies to the table of honor, all wanting to get a look at what was happening, very clearly.  But he was not one of those fine folk, Harry had been raised differently than them, he always expected the worse, Harry’s strongest instinct was one of self-survival.  And while King Joffrey may have very well choked on a pigeon bone, the criminal in the back of Harry’s mind thought otherwise, and urged him to get out while he still could.  

Harry knew that if a pigeon bone proved not to be the downfall of the King, Highgarden would most likely be closed off, no one in or out while the perpetrator was hunted down, and he did not want to be stuck in here with these people, partially due to his dislike of them, but mostly due to the fact that the once lovely and precious Highgarden would soon turn into a powder keg, and Harry did not want to be the next casualty.  He doubted that he was of importance for any sort of planned assassination, but he thought it likely he could get caught in the crossfire.

Thus, as many rushed forward, Harry carefully slipped out, making sure to avoid any and everyone, to avoid looking suspicious.  The last thing he needed was one nosy guard to say they saw a Targaryen supporter running out and to lose his head over it.  Knowing the news probably hadn’t spread past the hall quite yet, Harry put on a casual aire as he approached the stable boy in search for his horse, spouting off some non-sense of wanting to leave early to avoid the rush on the King’s Road.  The stable boy either approved of his sensibility, or didn’t care much to think about it, as Harry was quickly handed the reins to his horse and off he went.  

Harry’s mind raced as he made his way out, head on a constant swivel and eyes darting in every which direction.  Where would he go?  Should he make a break for home? Ride hard and buy new horses along the way?  How long would that take?  A fortnight? More?---But then the thought came to him, he had been a ward in the Vale with a Florent boy, and he wondered if this old acquaintanceship could leave him with a place to stay at Brightwater Keep, not even a half a day’s ride from Highgarden.

Even with his hood deafening sounds around him, Harry swore he had heard footsteps falling behind him.  He continued on as if they hadn’t pricked his ears until the sound came closer.  In a fell movement, Harry had spun, pinned his follower to wall and taken out his own dirk.

“Why’re you followin’ me?--Huh?” he questioned, his paranoia reaching a new high.

[amongthevipers]

@heireign sent what are you doing down here?

helaena leaned against the thick stone railing. the wind was cool and blew through the loose crown of curls. she wore her dressing gown, but the weather was getting colder and the night was cold enough she ought to have worn something warmer. she had been lost in thought watching the water from above when she heard the voice from behind her. she turned quickly, surprise on her face until she saw who it was. "i could not sleep," helaena answered rhaenyra honestly. her dreams had only grown more complex and confusing. "you're not meant to be here," she spoke softly and matter of factly. she did not scream, or cry out, she was only intrigued as to why she would risk coming here at this time of night.

[clippedwingsx]

king of the mountain || starter for @thelittlestrcse

The crown on his head felt heavier than it really was. Growing up he was engulfed by the stories of the Kings of the Mountains in the time before Targaryen rule. It was surreal to think that out of anyone it was H I M who bore the crown again, after so many had thought him unworthy of his title.

ROBERT ARRYN, FIRST OF HIS NAME, KING OF THE MOUNTAIN AND PROTECTOR OF THE EAST.

He would have preferred there be no coronation but his newly appointed hand; Yohn Royce, had reminded him that the event was more for his people than for him. long live the king of the mountain.

The banquet that followed was far more well received. They had just won a battle against the dead and negotiated their freedom from the crown; many of the people of the Vale and their allies were thrilled and the Eyrie had never before been filled with so much life. It was as if it were another castle entirely.

Cerulean optics lingered over one of his guests as his feet carried him over to Trysta’s side. “I’ve never seen them so...” he couldn’t really find the words. With all their honor and determination the people of the Vale were often considered serious. This was different.

“I hope you’re enjoying it too?”

[win-cr-die]

a starter for JON SNOW ( @crowncdcrow ).

                        all of this time, it felt as though she was waiting for something to happen. there had been something pooling inside of her stomach, burning and crackling but the mother of dragons had never known what it was. it was an everburning fire –– flames dancing in desperation, seeking their answer and yet nothing had come forth. from the very first day she had met the king in the north, thick brows knitted together in anguish, something had changed. although it had not begun easy, she was happier in herself ... even if this strange place that belonged to her family by birthright did not feel like home. dragonstone was almost  H A U N T I N G ;  dark corners at the end of each corridor with a battle room that gazed out upon a violent sea. it was peculiar ... far colder than essos had ever been, ,more hostile and loud but not for joyous reasons. loud because when she was alone, all of her thoughts came plummeting down on her just like the storm that she had been named after and yet, jon snow made it bearable to be there. it felt as though everything she had ever been working towards had come full circle and now, here they were on a boat, intertwined with one another and gasping for breath. forehead shone against the flickering twine of candles, ocean orbs glazed with an adoration as she fell onto her back and attempted to catch the breath that he had previously stolen from her. tugging the wolves fur blanket up to her chest, the cool breeze from the nightly air creeping in through the wooden panels in which her boat had been built –– daenerys swallowed the lump in her throat and gazed over to him, azure hues growing soft. together, they had captured a wight and had proven to cersei that there was a war far greater that needed to be fought … the great war. and whilst the mother of dragons had insisted that she would not give her armies to the northern forces until jon had bent the knee, she had already decided to so. he had declared her his QUEEN. but she was unsure of what he was to her. did this make him her mistress? perhaps, her lover? or was there something far greater between them, that he felt too?

silver braids had become ruffles, skin sticky with droplets of sweat as her chest caved in and out at an unsteady pace –– desperate to return to its normal state yet, she could not help but admire every little thing about him. the gruff texture of his beard, his perfect ravenous ringlets, the scar that tainted his brow bone and the violet lacerations that littered across his chest but she knew better than to stare –– even if it was in awe. tilting on her side ever so slightly, fingertips busying themselves by running across the smooth skin of his arm, daenerys allowed a small smile to driftt against the pink of her petals, the waves that lapped against the wooden exterior of her targaryen ship the only other sound audible, other than their heavy breaths and thumping hearts. everything about the king in the north was beautiful. and for the first time, daenerys had come to realise … that perhaps, she did love him –– much like tyrion had suggested. propping herself up on her elbow so that she could look into those onyx eyes of his and wrapping over the grey fur which clung to her form, the rightful queen allowed her eyes to come to life, animating with nothing but a glimmer as sapphires cascaded over him. “tell me, jon snow. is the north as beautiful as it is claimed to be? i have heard many things about the capital and how glorious it looks but it was not anything like i had pictured. it is strange to think that it’s my home and that dragons once flew over those pits, though i have never truly known what home is.”

[sesikudadaryti]

❈ N O W T H E Y S E E Y O U A S Y O U A R E ❈

Like this for a starter from Rhaenyra Targaryen.

THIS MUSE IS CANON DIVERGENT AND HEADCANON BASED. I WILL NOT BE SHIPPING DAEMYRA.

[wardenesstm-blog]

     -- @ofjordayne ;; starter call

I know her. Sansa chanced a glance at the newcomer, the Lady who had come to pledge her allegiance to the Dragon Queen. Not to Winterfell. Sansa pursed her lips at that thought. She had lost herself to thought amidst the formalities of pledging to  D A E N E R Y S  S T O R M B O R N , of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains...how did the rest of it go? She pressed her lips together more firmly.

J o r d a y n e ! Someone had mentioned the name aloud, and it finally clicked. House Jordayne. Words: TURN TO THE SUN. Seat: Tor. Sansa smiled proudly to herself. 

Once the formalities were over and  D O N E   W I T H , Sansa swiftly approached Lady Jordayne in order to welcome her to Winterfell more  P E R S O N A L L Y  and to glean as much information about her as was possible.

“Lady Jordayne.” Her curtsy and etiquette pristine as usual. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

[vaedar]

@obuljagon || Closed starter

░▒▌╳▐ ᴅ ʀ ᴀ ɢ ᴏ ɴ ʟ ᴏ ʀ ᴅ

      THE PRESENCE of a dragon amidst the remains of Old Valyria was all the incentive he needed; all the motivation to reach a decision. It served as a SIGN to him, one that the Valarys did not hesitate to follow. There was hope that one day, his fellow valyrian survivors would heed his example and leave to the world beyond the shattered peninsula but Vaedar did not wait for that time; he left his family and friends behind, to pursue a more GRAND purpose for his life. 

Time after, the man learned of a DRAGON QUEEN in Meereen, one who's freeing slaves and earning the love of many—as well as the hate of others. And it's likely that the dragon he saw was one of the three she is said to have hatched, the mother to dragons, they called her. It was impossible to not want to meet her. It took longer than he would've liked ( and so many challenges that he needed to overcome ) but finally, the valyrian now stands before her. Daenerys of house Targaryen, dragonlords that fled the Doom and so guaranteed their survival and prosperity. Only to now be on the brink of extinction. 

It was no surprise when he was met with opposition by her soldiers but Vaedar's stubbornness had the men subduing and bringing him to their queen ( which is what he wanted in the end, either way ). Forced to kneel and bow his head, the silver-gold haired man lets out a low groan while one of the soldiers inform the Targaryen of his insistence for an audience.

[silcntasthcnight-blog]

“i won’t get hurt, i promise.”

protector / protectee starters || @bearmaiiden

▌ ❄️ ▌-------I know you won’t. She puts the men to  S H A M E  without so much of a disappointment. A woman raised to be FIERCE & STRONG battling through bodies & bodies of people  W H O  dare come up against her, who dare wish to take her life with a single swing ----- STEEL METAL SWINGS, but misses her, she PIERCED the hearts of her enemies, BASHED their heads -- SKULLS CRACKED. DEAD. That was back to when they were facing against Ramsay Bolton, Lyra Mormont stood side by side with Jon Snow, and they conquered.  And they won.RUBY IRISES follow her movement carefully, she was leaving... Lyra & Jon planned to meet up with that Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, or so he thinks that’s the name of the human raised in  F I R E. The White Wolf was told to stay behind, protect Sansa like he would protect Jon, protect Lyra. BUT, he doesn’t wish to stay behind when Jon & Lyra will be apart from him ---- and Jon, how could he shield him from those BEASTLY DRAGONS. Large they are heard to be, but size does not matter, Ghost won’t let such a thing set  F E A R  into him. Wolves do not fear, they  F I G H T. But at least, the decision was made final. He approaches her slowly, nudging his nose against the side of her thigh -- once, twice. Be safe, protect Jon.