#Asogfabb

[thelittleprincesstargaryen]

Nya and Kepa

One of Visenya known habits was walking into rooms and silently taking a seat in one of her parents’ laps. Something she had seen her muña do with her kepa and something mumuña Rhaenys did with kepāzma Corlys, though the adults usually did it in theprivacy of the family livingrooms.

Being told no, was not something that happened often to Princess Visenya. It had started when she was very young, due to her being sick, but it was also because she very rarely asked for outrageous things, nor things her family wouldn’t do for her.

After her classes ended, Visenya wandered through the hallways of The Red Keep. Her classes had ended earlier than usually and none of her nannies or carers had known, which allowed the princess a rare moment to herself, but Visenya wasn’t very fond of being on her own. Visenya was often seen with her mandia Rhaena, following her around like a shadow or reading to her hāedar Aemma, when she wasn’t with her parents.

Her steps led her the familiar route to her kepa’s office. The door was ajar and Visenya paused, listening for activity inside. She could hear someone talking, though it wasn’t her kepa, sounded like one of the guards. Visenya looked inside and spotted her kepa in his seat by his ornate desk.

Without a word, Visenya pushed the door open wide enough to slip through. The guard paused, briefly, and bowed to her, before he continued talking. Visenya climbed into her kepa’s lap with practised movements and leaned against him. She knew not to repeat words she heard in private meetings, though truly she rarely paid attention, but simply enjoyed the proximity to her parents or grandparents.

Only when the guard left did Visenya speak. “Kepa? Will you tell me about when you were little? About you and mumuña Rhaenys and your Lēkia Viserys?” She asked, toying with a button on his waistcoat.

A closed starter for: @the-lord-confessor

[rideroftheredqueen]

Mending Family Ties

Encountering Floris in the library had made Rhaenys realise that her Baratheon cousins were all at The Red Keep. It had been embarrassing not being able to recognize Floris, but it had been years since she had seen her cousin, formative years for the young woman.

Recognizing Maris was somehow easier. The clever storm, wasn’t that how her own mother referred to Maris? It had not been easy to realise just how close her own mother was with her younger cousins when their own relationship was still strained.

“Maris?” Rhaenys called out as she spotted her cousin near the dining hall. “Sorry,” she added as she finally caught up to Maris, now slightly out of breath and rubbing her side. These last few days she had begun to get stitches at the slightest of movement. Calm little hippocamp, please. Muña will remember to move slower, promise.

“I heard Floris and Lady Jocelyn arrived. And that you arrived with Princess Rhaenya. It took me an embarrassing amount of time, to realise that I would have a chance to catch up with all my Baratheon cousins during this royal wedding.” She said with an easy smile. “Though, Floris didn’t seem too pleased to run into me,” she added with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“Mother – Lady Jocelyn – tells me you’re quite studious? Which languages are you capable of reading? If you don’t mind my curiosity?” Rhaenys asked, she had always loved languages, especially High Valyrian and had been fortunate enough to find a husband who shared her love of languages, though he had never quite mastered High Valyrian. “And I was wondering whether you might share Princess Rhaenya’s fondness of lemon cakes?”

A starter for @thecleverestorm

[anya-royce]

Basics

Full name: Anya Royce

Nickname(s): Annie, by her siblings/cousins when they want to annoy her.

Moniker(s): Little Lady Royce (she sees it as patronising)

Age: 14

Date of birth: 29th day of the twelfth moon of 116

Pronouns and identity details: she/her (most probably), no idea about sexuality/romantic preferences, so let's just say that she doesn't really know either, and isn't *very* bothered about defining it.

Allegiance(s): House Royce, the Vale

Spoken Language(s): Common Tongue

Religion: the Old Gods

Physical Traits

Eyes: brown/hazel

Features: youthful

Hair: brown

Build: "slight" when meant as a compliment, "scrawny" when insulting/derogatory.

Height: 4'11 (probably has at least one more growth spurt to get through, but it isn't going to be a big one and she's very unhappy about that)

Distinguishing Characteristics: she's small, and generally has a slightly stubborn expression, like she's challenging people to stop her doing whatever she's doing.

Personality Traits

“Positive” Traits: she's a gentle person who''s genuinely quite sweet, and when she sets her mind to something she's determined to finish it.

“Negative” Traits: her determination, however, often turns to stubbornness, mixed with obsessiveness. When it comes to getting to control she so desperately yearns for, all bets are off as to how far she'll go to get it.

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good, I think. She's guided by her conscience, only considering society and its rules as a second thought, if at all.

Interests: magic, and stories of it.

Hobbies: she plays the piano well and loves to dance.

Goals: she wants to cure both herself and her father of the respective ailments (generally sickly with a weak immune system, Incurable Cough of Doom™)

Anxieties: she worries constantly that she won't be able to figure out a cure in time to save her father, to the point of having nightmares about it.

Social Weapon(s): not many, except for one; she is a child, and thus people tend to talk as if she isn't there. Anya's learned a lot by simply existing in the right place at the right time.

Connections:

Father: she's not necessarily that close with Eddison, but she loves him and hates to think that she might be too late to save him.

Mother: she's close with her mother, though it runs into My Beloved Smother territory with how protective Ryella is of her youngest.

Siblings: she ignores Arwen and Alester, along with her cousins bar Henrietta (who she's close with if only because they're both Ryella's not-so-subtle favourites), mostly, but does care deeply about them.

Family Status: the youngest daughter of Ryella and Eddison, second sister of Lord Alester Royce of Runestone

Partner(s): none yet

Children: she's a child herself, so none yet

Court Ties: possible friendship with @davos-allyrion

[ladyregentclarice]

What is Said Behind Closed Doors

Part of @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

~ Starter for @black-queen-rising ~

The Red Keep is a terrifying maze of staircases and passageways that would likely take Clarice a good amount of time to come to understand and be able to navigate herself. Though she wished that she would ever remain in such a place long enough to do so, Clarice knew that as her sons regent, if he had need to be in Kings Landing and its Red Keep, then so should she.

Her gaze focused on the attendant before her, guiding them through the labyrinth that was the Red Keep to the Tower of the Hand, to where Princess Rhaenyra claimed as her domain as her father’s Hand. Up the many steps they went, her hold on her son tightening as she felt his small, chubby fingers tighten in the fabric of her dress.

Silently, she thanked the Seven in learning something of the delicately and subtlety of politics, and had seen to it that they weren’t gowned in green nor black for this meeting. Instead, they had taken inspiration from the city and the Red Keep itself, in dressing in red. That deep scarlet of blood, of health and prosperity and conquest and tradition. It suffused every building save few, Clarice noted before when the Tyrell envoy entered the walls of the city. Red was traced on doors, on gables, eaves, and walls.

Lyonel, whose wardrobe contained a majority of greens and golds and rich browns, had been uncaring in the additional color in his wardrobe as one would expect from a two year old. Clarice had ensured that their attire was heavily embroidered with flowers, especially the golden roses of House Tyrell, though she had ensured other florals were added to ensure none mistook them from Lannisters. Her hair had been braided coronet that’s interwoven with a velvet ribbon, though how odd it felt to be about without a veil as she has worn since Lorence died.

She feels the slightest of touches on her back, of Jon ensuring her steadiness of foot while holding their little lord. He and Roger, who was tending to his lady wife, had been her lifeline these past two years in ensuring that her son remained safe. In ensuring that peace and order was the law of the land in the Reach. To give the Targaryens no further cause to cast their sights towards Highgarden, or give their kin in Oldtown the opportunity to further their hold on the region.

And now, set before the future of House Targaryen, it took everything she had to set her son - her only child - down before the Hand of the King and curtsied with her head bowed low as the Targaryen attendant announced who they were to Princess Rhaenyra. Silently thankful that Lyonel had remember what she had told him to do, in bowing politely and uttering a polite “Hallo, Princess.” Her heart filling with pride in her little sapling and bittersweetness that Lorence would never witness this.

“How may Highgarden serve the Realm, your Highness?” Clarice finally spoke, begging her voice to not break and for her hands to not sweat as she gazed into the eyes of a dragoness.

[lordhusband]

Adored by the Realm: Day 6

The Red Keep, King’s Landing, Westeros, 15th day of the 12th moon 129AC The sixth day of wedding celebrations: Adored by the Realm.

The Third Tourney

The sun already stood high in the sky when Corlys woke up. He reached out, only to find the rest of the bed empty, no sign of Rhaenys. Perplexed he sat up, rubbing his face. There had been too much good wine and later fine spirits during the wedding feast. The sun had peaked up over the horizon by the time he had gotten back to bed. Rhaenys had left the party earlier, urging him to stay and enjoy himself.

“Princess?” He called out and swung his legs out. The mason stones felt icy against his feet. There was no fire going in the fireplace. How late was it?

“The tourney is about to start, my lord,” his steward said upon entering with fresh clothes and a tray of food. “The Princess Rhaenys has gone down to look at the agricultural competitions.”

“When did she leave?” Corlys asked as he grabbed a roll and took a bite.

“She was up quite early. I believe she had breakfast with the children in the dining hall.”

Corlys raised his brows and took off his night shirt, letting his steward help him get dressed as he ate some food.

“There you are,” Rhaenys said with a smile as Corlys stepped into the royal loge. “Good morrow.”

“Good morrow, my princess,” Corlys said and greeted her with a tender kiss, stroking her cheek before he looked around and bowed his head to the rest of the people gathered in the royal loge. “Why didn’t you wake me when you left? How did you get down here?”

“Because you had barely slept, when I got up. The hippocamp woke me up early. And I rode down here in a carriage, I did not exert myself.”

Corlys nodded and reached out taking her hand, entwining their fingers as the final tourneys begun.

Their grandsons had fared well, Corlys knew Daemon had been training them. It was paying off. Especially young Joffrey showed great talent in the jousting, steering his horse with skilled ease.

As the final joust ended Corlys got up and reached out towards his wife.

“Won’t you escort Rhaenyra? I’d like a word with Daemon.” Corlys raised his brows at her but nodded.

Dining and Dancing in The Royal Gardens

After a much-needed rest Rhaenys shifted and peppered Corlys’ nose with kisses. “Wake up, lord husband. There’s another feast and more dancing to attend,” she whispered. Rhaenys slowly got out of bed, wincing as her stomach tightened once more. She closed her eyes and focussed on her breathing. This wasn’t real labour, that much she could tell. But real labour was getting closer by the day.  

Valaena helped her get dressed. Light fabrics that clung to her curves and a warmer shawl for when the sun set. There were rumours of fireworks, which Rhaenys was excited to see were true. She adored fireworks, but it was a rare treat, even for a princess.

Naturally Corlys finished getting ready before her, sitting beside her as Valaena began to twist her hair our of her face. “Tomorrow we can rest, the evening garden party will conclude the wedding celebrations.”

“And then we must plan the trip home. You and the hippocamp have been busy, you need rest more than I do.”

Rhaenys chuckled, catching Valaena’s eyes in the mirror. They both knew Corlys was still feeling the effects of last night’s spirits. “Yes, of course,” she said.

Corlys placed a new necklace around her neck.

“What’s this?”

“A Daenaera creation, princess.”

Rhaenys beamed as she got up and took Corlys’ arm.

“Stop…” Rhaenys said as they reached the bottom of the last flight of stairs. She turned enough to bury her head against Corlys’ shoulders, allowing the tears to fall against his clothes. Her back ached; her hips felt like they were dislocating at each step. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but Corlys was patient and Rhaenys relaxed as his hand traced patterns against her back.

When they made it to the party, Rhaenys sat down after greeting the family. Curtsying Rhaenyra had almost caused her to fall over and make a scene. Corlys fussed over her as she sat, crouching beside her.

“Princess?”

“I’m fine. I just need to sit for a moment,” she whispered softly. “Maybe for the night,” she reasoned after a moment. “Now get up, people are staring.”

Corlys took a seat beside her and Rhaenys reached out and took his hand. They remained seated throughout the dinner, even though sitting only did little to ease the pain. The sun was still setting as Rhaenys leaned in and whispered. “Help me back to our rooms?”

Corlys nodded and rose. As she mentally readied herself to the painful walk back, Corlys made sure to say their good nights to the family, albeit earlier than expected.

Tears were streaming freely down her face, as Rhaenys reached the bed and sat down. Corlys moved swiftly around her, helping her undress and helped her lift her legs up on the bed so she could lay down.

“Don’t cry, my princess.” His words were warm and tender, easing the sadness she felt about missing out. “Look,” he said and gestured to the windows, “I believe we will be able to see the fireworks from here.”

“You’re too kind,” Rhaenys said softly.

As the sky darkened Rhaenys settled on her side with her head on Corlys’ chest. Her pain had eased, and they had coupled gently. Rhaenys hadn’t realised how much she had missed being that close to Corlys.

A loud bang caused them both to jerk, followed by chuckles as bright colours filled the night sky outside their window.

“Braavosi fireworks. Lord Greyjoy procured them, I’ve been told. “

“Darling Lord Dalton. You better watch out, lord husband, he’s quite the sailor.”

Honourable mention: @rogueprincedaemontarg, @black-queen-rising, @thedadkraken, @princejoffreyvelaryon, @littlevelaryon

[elindamassey]

Ravens between King's Landing and Dragonstone

Dearest Helaena,

I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. I know it’s been a while since we last corresponded, but I feel fortunate that it does not mean that we have not been in touch. Last court season brought so many happy gatherings.

Winter has been announced and preparations around the castle and surrounding homes have been in effect for the last few moons. I feel fortunate that my position in court and my friendship with you allows me to prepare before many other low-borns are even aware of the hardships that seem to be approaching. I’ve gathered old wool and furs from the storages and is slowly helping the young royals build a proper winter wardrobe. Next will be preparing my own children.

Meredyth continuously asks of tales about the friendship between you and I. She does not quite believe that my childhood friend is Princess Helaena. Nor does she believe that I’ve visited Dragonstone in any other capacity, than as the then-princess Rhaenyra’s lady in waiting. I hope my tales will eventually persuade her.

How is young Jaehaera doing? Last we spoke you were ever so worried about her. And last I saw her she looked paler and wearier than I ever remember her looking. I do hope you’ve found the reason for her discomfort and have been able to help. As mothers it’s heartbreaking to feel helpless when it comes to our children, I vividly remember how hard it was when Ysabel struggled with nightmares of fire and death.

I wish there was a way for you to see the flowers Simon brought me the other day, in a celebration of Jack’s nameday. I’ve never seen flowers so rich in colours. They remind me of the butterflies you and I enjoy to watch in the summertime around the gardens of King’s Landing. Their scent reminds me of the sweet summer wine from Dorne.

I hope the winter won’t force us to stay apart longer than we are used to. I already miss your company in the capital, as does your family and my family. I pray that The Seven watches over you and your family and that we may soon embrace each other once more.

All my love

Elinda

A closed starter for: @helaenasdreamfyres

[thelittleprincesstargaryen]

While Visenya was usually an eager student, the history lesson with Maester Wyllis was her least favorite. He had yet to teach her anything new. From the point where Visenya had learned how to read she had read the genealogy of the Targaryen family, including all the houses that had married into the family. The recent wedding celebration between her brother and sister had reignited the interest and the House of Baratheon was one of the ones she had read up on, since her mumuña Rhaenys’ mother was of Baratheon descent.

Visenya’s eyes wandered away from the board and the scrolls, only to find kepus Aemond looking through the gap in the door. When he put his finger to her lips she nodded and turned her attention back to Maester Wyllis answering his questions with ease.

Visenya lifted her book to hide the grin that formed on her lips. If kepus Aemond had truly asked her muña for permission to interrupt her lesson, she’d be surprised. Not that her muña wouldn’t allow it, she too knew Visenya was ahead of her studies, especially in history lessons.

“How may I aid you kepus?” Visneya asked sweetly as she put her book away and stood. If he needed her help, had her muña’s permission (or not) it would surely be more enjoyable than another hour of lessons about the major houses of Westeros. Maybe he’d take her to the dragon pit. Or show her some new weapon or armor, things no other showed her, always being careful with her.

“Good day Maester Wyllis, Lady Becca,” she said in greeting before she walked up to Aemond. “Yes?”

Little Conqueror.

(for @thelittleprincesstargaryen)

Aemond did not miss having lessons. He enjoyed learning, but the memories of Maesters prattling on and on, in their humdrum monotone... The memory made him shudder in disgust. And if he knew Visenya, she would be in such a lesson today. It was likely history or geography, subjects he suspected his dear niece would not regret missing.

As Aemond heads into the Visenya's chambers, he can hear Maester Wyllis going on already. The history of the Baratheons of Storms End and their loyal service to House Targaryen. He suspected there would be an assessment, where Visenya was drilled on House Baratheon's words, its founders, its history prior to Aegon's Conquest. Aemond chuckles from the doorway, voice quiet as he listens into the lesson for a moment. Visenya did notice him, and he put a finger to his lips, giving her a sly wink. After a moment, when he felt the most dull part of the lesson was about to begin, Aemond straightens and steps into the room fully, drawing the Maester's attention to him. Even Visenya's governess bows her head in acknowledgement.

"Good morrow, Maester Wyllis, Lady Becca." He gives them both a nod, barely the slightest incline of his head. "Good morrow, Prince Aemond. We were just going over the history of several major houses of Westeros.." Maester Wyllis explains. "You are most welcome to join us, I know you are a student of history."

Aemond glances at Visenya again, giving her a smirk. "As enjoyable as that sounds, I actually have need of Princess Visenya. I've already spoken to Her Grace, and she has given her consent." Aemond lies smoothly, feigning regret that he would dare to pull the Princess from her studies.

[rideroftheredqueen]

An Evening on the Balcony

The sun was already setting when Rhaenys made her way from the Velaryon chambers towards the east-facing balcony. While she would normally enjoy the sunset to the west, tonight she was longing for the sea. Longing for anything that reminded her of home. It had been a rough day. Corlys had been gone for a fortnight now and his absence felt heavy within Rhaenys. Nyssie, their young daughter, was teething and it had been hard to settle her all day. Now she was finally fast asleep and Rhaenys had left her with a maid to get a few moments to herself.

“Ser Darklyn,” she said in greeting upon reaching the balcony and finding it already occupied. Ser Steffon Darklyn was a cousin of hers, a distant one, but family, nonetheless. “Steffon,” she added allowing informality between them. “Mind if I join you?”

Rhaenys waited in the archway for his answer. There was no need to force her company on anyone, and from here she could already smell the salt from the sea. She lifted her eyes from Steffon and let them rest on the darkening horizon, where the sunset blurred the line between ocean and sky. “I wonder if the winter will be harsh enough to freeze the seas,” she mused quietly.

A closed starter for: @sersteffondarklyn

[ladyregentclarice]

Golden Rays, Golden Roses

(Closed starter for @aliandramartell-1)

She hadn’t expected an envoy from Dorne to be in attendance at court, let alone headed by its ruler.

The day was no different in King's Landing, even as the preparations of more arrivals came to be known to Clarice through the whisper of her maid as she ensured her mistress was readied for the day. Over the past few days, if not weeks more and more men and their families had arrived, with those of higher standing and rank staying within the Red Keep and those lower finding lodgings within the nicer sections of the city.

And while Clarice knew that the Targaryens had, apparently, ironed out who will be next to sit upon the iron throne, there was still a flutter of fear in her belly. Wondering if it was a mistake in being here, in bringing Lyonel here. Surely she should’ve had him stay within the safety of the walls of Highgarden, with Jon and Roger remaining there to protect him should anything happen to her. So that only she would be in harms way, should the dragons fight among themselves.

Even as she walked the halls, she feels their ogling gazes of the court.

She would not pretend to entertain the idea that she wasn’t pretty, for she knew her looks were agreeable. But it was not her looks that made them look, but her position as her sons regent. It was the power she possessed, ruling for her infant son over the fertile, powerful, and wealthy (though surely the Lannisters would argue who possessed the wealthiest region) Reach. It almost made her wish for her mourning veils again, to hide from their hungry gazes as she walked past them all, until she caught sight of some Dornish nobility, something she hadn’t expected to see at the court of the dragons given Dornes refusal to join the realm under Targaryen rule.

Princess Aliandra Nymeros Martell, or at least that is who Clarice presumed the elegant young woman whom the Dornish nobility circled like the moon circled the world, was a beautiful young woman. Regal, Clarice would say, with thick, dark hair and equally dark eyes from what Clarice could see. But what she couldn’t see is the why.

Why would they be here? Is Dorne seeking to merge with the rest of the realm? Are they to bend the knee to the Iron Throne? To King Viserys, or to his heir? Or was this their way of seeking out any weaknesses in which to strike against them all and bring chaos and death to the Stormlands and Reach borders?

She had to find out, for her poor nerves would not be able such uncertainty. Not with Lyonel here at court. Seven, she’ll even put him on a dragons back herself- with a dragonrider, maybe Prince Daeron or one of the young ladies who were dragonriders- if it meant keeping him safe.

“What a rare delight this is, to see Dorne represented so elegantly here at court.” If Lorence was alive, he would know the right words to say to this Dornish princess, but Clarice wasn’t him and was still learning the delicate nature of politics. However, she did know her courtesies and so when she approached the Dornish Princess she had smiled, and gave a bow. “An honor to meet you, Princess.”

[lordhusband]

Adored by the Realm: Day 1

The Red Keep, King’s Landing, Westeros, 10th day of the 12th moon 129AC Crown Prince Jacaerys’ 21st name day, the last day of Mother’s Day Celebrations, the first day of wedding celebrations: Adored by the Realm.

Mother’s Day Celebration

“Next Mother’s Day Celebrations we will have an almost one-year-old,” Corlys said as he pressed a tender kiss to Rhaenys’ bump. The weeks spent in King’s Landing had been good for them. He could tell Rhaenys was soothed by the presence of family and though she was still visibly uncomfortable most of the time, her smiles came easier and seemed more sincere.

The Mother’s Day Celebrations had been a challenging celebration for years. Corlys wondered how Rhaenys had fared in the early years after losing both their children. Even as he returned to her, the Mother’s Day Celebrations had been sombre and quiet. He had watched Rhaenys put on a brave face, celebrating with Rhaenyra and the grandchildren, but he had also seen her tears once they were alone, heard her sobs when she thought no one would hear her. It had gotten better each year, fewer tears and softer smiles.

Corlys leaned up and kissed Rhaenys’ lips, before he procured a present from his pocket and placed it in her hand. “It’s just a small thing,” he said as she sat back on the bed and watched her unwrap the present.

“Corlys…” Rhaenys’ eyes brightened, her smile widening as Corlys watched her pull out the string of blue-toned pearls. “These are incredibly rare; how did you get so many of them?”

“There are one-and-twenty of them. I’ve been collecting them since Jacaerys’ birth, with the intention of gifting them to you on the day he came of age.” Corlys explained with ease. Rhaenys’ look of disbelief had him chuckle and he leaned in, kissing her again. “I wasn’t sure what sort of jewellery I should have them incorporated into, so I’ll let you help design something special.”

“Thank you Corlys. They are beautiful, I’m sure we can come up with something special,” Rhaenys said with a bright smile.

“Are you ready for the parade?” Corlys asked as he got up and extended his hand to Rhaenys. As she took it, he helped her stand.

Grand Royal Parade

Corlys helped her into the carriage and Rhaenys shifted the pillow behind her, so they would provide the support she needed. Corlys seated himself beside her and made sure that her legs were covered with warm blankets.

“Thank you,” Rhaenys said as she leaned back, just in time for their carriage to take off. Rhaenys saw many familiar faces in the crowd, she waved and smiled, just as her mother had once taught her. Some she had known since her own childhood, walking through King’s Landing with her muñazma, sitting with her muñazma listening to the women of King’s Landing – or rather all of Westeros – coming to her, bringing their concerns to Women’s Court. Her muñazma had raised her to rule, knowledge she had since passed onto Rhaenyra, but also used as the Mistress of Driftmark.

There were young faces in the crowd, children making their way to the front to see the royal family in their regalia. The first event of the wedding celebrations. Rhaenys was equal measures of nervous and excited. Her and Corlys had chosen black and gold for their outfits tonight, reminiscent of the robes they had worn at Rhaenyra and Laenor’s opening feast.

Corlys’ hand found her thigh as they paused by the Sept. Rhaenys nodded encouragingly. “Go, put in our donations and then return to me, I’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. She couldn’t help but to grin as Corlys kissed her, before he stepped down and walked towards the Sept with most of the royal family.

“Princess?”

Rhaenys turned to the other side, smiling as she spotted a very familiar face. “Violet!” Rhaenys had met Violet when they were both young children. She had spent hours in Violet’s family’s candle making shop, which her muñazma had encouraged, believing building a good relationship with the small folk, was vital for a good ruler. “I haven’t seen you in … “

“It’s been years, Princess. Are you with child?”

Rhaenys waved the guards off, as she noticed them closing in on them. “Violet’s a friend,” she said, before returning her attention to Violet. She took Violet’s outstretched hand and pressed it against her bump. “I am. And I am due within this moon.” She said with a grin.

“But this wedding is for your grandchildren, yes?”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Rhaenys chided playfully. “Do you still prove candles to the Sept?”

“No, they picked another vendor when my father died. I took over but…”

“But they prefer to do their trades with a man,” Rhaenys reasoned easily. “What about the castle?”

“The Queen, back when she was hand of the King, renewed the agreement when I took over. So I have my hands full. My sons and their wives work with me. And my grandchildren. I have seven now.”

“I’ll make sure to come by soon, I want some of your candles at High Tide.”

“I’ll look forward to it, Princess.”

Rhaenys waved at her friend, just as Corlys’ return made the carriage sway.

“Who was that?”

“Violet, the candlemaker,” Rhaenys explained, wincing as the carriage set off again.

The Opening Feast

“Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark, Lord of the Tide and his wife The Princess Rhaenys, Mistress of Driftmark, Lady of the Tides. Grandparents of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Lady Baela Targaryen.”

Corlys kept one arm around Rhaenys’ waist, holding her hand with the other as he guided her down the stairs, entering the great hall in time for the opening feast. Light bounced off the gilded threads in their outfits and Corlys was proud to walk beside Rhaenys, who masked her pain and discomfort with practised ease.

As they reached the main table, Corlys bowed, as Rhaenys dipped into a respectful curtsy. Corlys felt her grip on his hand tightened and he was quick to help her up, before anyone would notice.

Being the grandparents of both bride and groom had given them some logistic challenges with the seating arrangement. Corlys walked with Rhaenys to the bride’s side and helped her to sit. He kissed her temple, before he seated himself at the groom’s side of the table.

As the meal concluded and the music began, Corlys and Rhaenys reunited on the dance floor. Normally they’d spent the night in the middle of the room, but tonight they stayed on the edge of the crowd, taking it slow. Any sound of people falling or raised voices made Rhaenys jump in his arms, memories of the son’s wedding causing old wounds to rise to the surface.

Long before the end of the night, Corlys and Rhaenys sought out Jacaerys and presented him with a Velaryon signet ring. “This was… This was Laenor’s,” Corlys explained quietly. “Or parts of it was. I found when we were looking for our formal robes. Laenor and Vaemond’s. I had them melted down and rings made for you, Lucerys and Joffrey. Something to remember your roots by when you become a Targaryen king.”

They made it back to their room, still able to hear the music from the feast. Corlys knelt down as he removed Rhaenys’ shoes and stockings. He moved swiftly removing her garments as tears ran down her face. “I’ll get the tincture for you,” he said as he helped her into her nightgown and kissed her forehead. “Valaena will help you take down your hair.” When Corlys returned Rhaenys was in bed, under the covers, but her bright eyes shone in the candlelight. “It’s a thick mixture,” he said as he brought the cup to her lips. She drank without question and when Corlys settled down beside her, she was already asleep. He reached out and stroked her bump gently, until he too drifted off to sleep.

Honourable mentioning: @notatargaryenbastard, @black-queen-rising, @moondancer-rp, @rideroftheredqueen

[lordhusband]

Ex son-in-law, father of my beloved granddaughters Baela and Rhaena ♥️

Character Promo:

Daemon Targaryen - prince & wielder of dark sister

@rogueprincedaemontarg - Part of A Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood RP

The younger son of the late Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa Targaryen, Daemon is 50 years old, a Prince of The Realm, and the second husband of Crown Princess Rhaenyra. After serving several stints as the Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, Daemon now sits on the Small Council as the Master of War; a position far too concerned with bothering various Lords to send him updated rosters of their bannermen for his liking. He is the father of Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena by his second wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, as well as Princes Aegon "The Younger", Viserys "Vis", and Baelon, and Princesses Visenya and Aemma with Rhaenyra. Daemon is praised as a skilled fighter and dragon rider, doting husband, and good father, but it is often whispered he also has the tendency to be violent, stubborn, and unpredictable.

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[rideroftheredqueen]

Adored by the Realm: Day 6

The Red Keep, King’s Landing, Westeros, 15th day of the 12th moon 129AC The sixth day of wedding celebrations: Adored by the Realm.

The Third Tourney

The sun already stood high in the sky when Corlys woke up. He reached out, only to find the rest of the bed empty, no sign of Rhaenys. Perplexed he sat up, rubbing his face. There had been too much good wine and later fine spirits during the wedding feast. The sun had peaked up over the horizon by the time he had gotten back to bed. Rhaenys had left the party earlier, urging him to stay and enjoy himself.

“Princess?” He called out and swung his legs out. The mason stones felt icy against his feet. There was no fire going in the fireplace. How late was it?

“The tourney is about to start, my lord,” his steward said upon entering with fresh clothes and a tray of food. “The Princess Rhaenys has gone down to look at the agricultural competitions.”

“When did she leave?” Corlys asked as he grabbed a roll and took a bite.

“She was up quite early. I believe she had breakfast with the children in the dining hall.”

Corlys raised his brows and took off his night shirt, letting his steward help him get dressed as he ate some food.

“There you are,” Rhaenys said with a smile as Corlys stepped into the royal loge. “Good morrow.”

“Good morrow, my princess,” Corlys said and greeted her with a tender kiss, stroking her cheek before he looked around and bowed his head to the rest of the people gathered in the royal loge. “Why didn’t you wake me when you left? How did you get down here?”

“Because you had barely slept, when I got up. The hippocamp woke me up early. And I rode down here in a carriage, I did not exert myself.”

Corlys nodded and reached out taking her hand, entwining their fingers as the final tourneys begun.

Their grandsons had fared well, Corlys knew Daemon had been training them. It was paying off. Especially young Joffrey showed great talent in the jousting, steering his horse with skilled ease.

As the final joust ended Corlys got up and reached out towards his wife.

“Won’t you escort Rhaenyra? I’d like a word with Daemon.” Corlys raised his brows at her but nodded.

Dining and Dancing in The Royal Gardens

After a much-needed rest Rhaenys shifted and peppered Corlys’ nose with kisses. “Wake up, lord husband. There’s another feast and more dancing to attend,” she whispered. Rhaenys slowly got out of bed, wincing as her stomach tightened once more. She closed her eyes and focussed on her breathing. This wasn’t real labour, that much she could tell. But real labour was getting closer by the day.  

Valaena helped her get dressed. Light fabrics that clung to her curves and a warmer shawl for when the sun set. There were rumours of fireworks, which Rhaenys was excited to see were true. She adored fireworks, but it was a rare treat, even for a princess.

Naturally Corlys finished getting ready before her, sitting beside her as Valaena began to twist her hair our of her face. “Tomorrow we can rest, the evening garden party will conclude the wedding celebrations.”

“And then we must plan the trip home. You and the hippocamp have been busy, you need rest more than I do.”

Rhaenys chuckled, catching Valaena’s eyes in the mirror. They both knew Corlys was still feeling the effects of last night’s spirits. “Yes, of course,” she said.

Corlys placed a new necklace around her neck.

“What’s this?”

“A Daenaera creation, princess.”

Rhaenys beamed as she got up and took Corlys’ arm.

“Stop…” Rhaenys said as they reached the bottom of the last flight of stairs. She turned enough to bury her head against Corlys’ shoulders, allowing the tears to fall against his clothes. Her back ached; her hips felt like they were dislocating at each step. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but Corlys was patient and Rhaenys relaxed as his hand traced patterns against her back.

When they made it to the party, Rhaenys sat down after greeting the family. Curtsying Rhaenyra had almost caused her to fall over and make a scene. Corlys fussed over her as she sat, crouching beside her.

“Princess?”

“I’m fine. I just need to sit for a moment,” she whispered softly. “Maybe for the night,” she reasoned after a moment. “Now get up, people are staring.”

Corlys took a seat beside her and Rhaenys reached out and took his hand. They remained seated throughout the dinner, even though sitting only did little to ease the pain. The sun was still setting as Rhaenys leaned in and whispered. “Help me back to our rooms?”

Corlys nodded and rose. As she mentally readied herself to the painful walk back, Corlys made sure to say their good nights to the family, albeit earlier than expected.

Tears were streaming freely down her face, as Rhaenys reached the bed and sat down. Corlys moved swiftly around her, helping her undress and helped her lift her legs up on the bed so she could lay down.

“Don’t cry, my princess.” His words were warm and tender, easing the sadness she felt about missing out. “Look,” he said and gestured to the windows, “I believe we will be able to see the fireworks from here.”

“You’re too kind,” Rhaenys said softly.

As the sky darkened Rhaenys settled on her side with her head on Corlys’ chest. Her pain had eased, and they had coupled gently. Rhaenys hadn’t realised how much she had missed being that close to Corlys.

A loud bang caused them both to jerk, followed by chuckles as bright colours filled the night sky outside their window.

“Braavosi fireworks. Lord Greyjoy procured them, I’ve been told. “

“Darling Lord Dalton. You better watch out, lord husband, he’s quite the sailor.”

Honourable mention: @rogueprincedaemontarg, @black-queen-rising, @thedadkraken, @princejoffreyvelaryon, @littlevelaryon

[rideroftheredqueen]

Adored by the Realm: Day 1

The Red Keep, King’s Landing, Westeros, 10th day of the 12th moon 129AC Crown Prince Jacaerys’ 21st name day, the last day of Mother’s Day Celebrations, the first day of wedding celebrations: Adored by the Realm.

Mother’s Day Celebration

“Next Mother’s Day Celebrations we will have an almost one-year-old,” Corlys said as he pressed a tender kiss to Rhaenys’ bump. The weeks spent in King’s Landing had been good for them. He could tell Rhaenys was soothed by the presence of family and though she was still visibly uncomfortable most of the time, her smiles came easier and seemed more sincere.

The Mother’s Day Celebrations had been a challenging celebration for years. Corlys wondered how Rhaenys had fared in the early years after losing both their children. Even as he returned to her, the Mother’s Day Celebrations had been sombre and quiet. He had watched Rhaenys put on a brave face, celebrating with Rhaenyra and the grandchildren, but he had also seen her tears once they were alone, heard her sobs when she thought no one would hear her. It had gotten better each year, fewer tears and softer smiles.

Corlys leaned up and kissed Rhaenys’ lips, before he procured a present from his pocket and placed it in her hand. “It’s just a small thing,” he said as she sat back on the bed and watched her unwrap the present.

“Corlys…” Rhaenys’ eyes brightened, her smile widening as Corlys watched her pull out the string of blue-toned pearls. “These are incredibly rare; how did you get so many of them?”

“There are one-and-twenty of them. I’ve been collecting them since Jacaerys’ birth, with the intention of gifting them to you on the day he came of age.” Corlys explained with ease. Rhaenys’ look of disbelief had him chuckle and he leaned in, kissing her again. “I wasn’t sure what sort of jewellery I should have them incorporated into, so I’ll let you help design something special.”

“Thank you Corlys. They are beautiful, I’m sure we can come up with something special,” Rhaenys said with a bright smile.

“Are you ready for the parade?” Corlys asked as he got up and extended his hand to Rhaenys. As she took it, he helped her stand.

Grand Royal Parade

Corlys helped her into the carriage and Rhaenys shifted the pillow behind her, so they would provide the support she needed. Corlys seated himself beside her and made sure that her legs were covered with warm blankets.

“Thank you,” Rhaenys said as she leaned back, just in time for their carriage to take off. Rhaenys saw many familiar faces in the crowd, she waved and smiled, just as her mother had once taught her. Some she had known since her own childhood, walking through King’s Landing with her muñazma, sitting with her muñazma listening to the women of King’s Landing – or rather all of Westeros – coming to her, bringing their concerns to Women’s Court. Her muñazma had raised her to rule, knowledge she had since passed onto Rhaenyra, but also used as the Mistress of Driftmark.

There were young faces in the crowd, children making their way to the front to see the royal family in their regalia. The first event of the wedding celebrations. Rhaenys was equal measures of nervous and excited. Her and Corlys had chosen black and gold for their outfits tonight, reminiscent of the robes they had worn at Rhaenyra and Laenor’s opening feast.

Corlys’ hand found her thigh as they paused by the Sept. Rhaenys nodded encouragingly. “Go, put in our donations and then return to me, I’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. She couldn’t help but to grin as Corlys kissed her, before he stepped down and walked towards the Sept with most of the royal family.

“Princess?”

Rhaenys turned to the other side, smiling as she spotted a very familiar face. “Violet!” Rhaenys had met Violet when they were both young children. She had spent hours in Violet’s family’s candle making shop, which her muñazma had encouraged, believing building a good relationship with the small folk, was vital for a good ruler. “I haven’t seen you in … “

“It’s been years, Princess. Are you with child?”

Rhaenys waved the guards off, as she noticed them closing in on them. “Violet’s a friend,” she said, before returning her attention to Violet. She took Violet’s outstretched hand and pressed it against her bump. “I am. And I am due within this moon.” She said with a grin.

“But this wedding is for your grandchildren, yes?”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Rhaenys chided playfully. “Do you still prove candles to the Sept?”

“No, they picked another vendor when my father died. I took over but…”

“But they prefer to do their trades with a man,” Rhaenys reasoned easily. “What about the castle?”

“The Queen, back when she was hand of the King, renewed the agreement when I took over. So I have my hands full. My sons and their wives work with me. And my grandchildren. I have seven now.”

“I’ll make sure to come by soon, I want some of your candles at High Tide.”

“I’ll look forward to it, Princess.”

Rhaenys waved at her friend, just as Corlys’ return made the carriage sway.

“Who was that?”

“Violet, the candlemaker,” Rhaenys explained, wincing as the carriage set off again.

The Opening Feast

“Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark, Lord of the Tide and his wife The Princess Rhaenys, Mistress of Driftmark, Lady of the Tides. Grandparents of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Lady Baela Targaryen.”

Corlys kept one arm around Rhaenys’ waist, holding her hand with the other as he guided her down the stairs, entering the great hall in time for the opening feast. Light bounced off the gilded threads in their outfits and Corlys was proud to walk beside Rhaenys, who masked her pain and discomfort with practised ease.

As they reached the main table, Corlys bowed, as Rhaenys dipped into a respectful curtsy. Corlys felt her grip on his hand tightened and he was quick to help her up, before anyone would notice.

Being the grandparents of both bride and groom had given them some logistic challenges with the seating arrangement. Corlys walked with Rhaenys to the bride’s side and helped her to sit. He kissed her temple, before he seated himself at the groom’s side of the table.

As the meal concluded and the music began, Corlys and Rhaenys reunited on the dance floor. Normally they’d spent the night in the middle of the room, but tonight they stayed on the edge of the crowd, taking it slow. Any sound of people falling or raised voices made Rhaenys jump in his arms, memories of the son’s wedding causing old wounds to rise to the surface.

Long before the end of the night, Corlys and Rhaenys sought out Jacaerys and presented him with a Velaryon signet ring. “This was… This was Laenor’s,” Corlys explained quietly. “Or parts of it was. I found when we were looking for our formal robes. Laenor and Vaemond’s. I had them melted down and rings made for you, Lucerys and Joffrey. Something to remember your roots by when you become a Targaryen king.”

They made it back to their room, still able to hear the music from the feast. Corlys knelt down as he removed Rhaenys’ shoes and stockings. He moved swiftly removing her garments as tears ran down her face. “I’ll get the tincture for you,” he said as he helped her into her nightgown and kissed her forehead. “Valaena will help you take down your hair.” When Corlys returned Rhaenys was in bed, under the covers, but her bright eyes shone in the candlelight. “It’s a thick mixture,” he said as he brought the cup to her lips. She drank without question and when Corlys settled down beside her, she was already asleep. He reached out and stroked her bump gently, until he too drifted off to sleep.

Honourable mentioning: @notatargaryenbastard, @black-queen-rising, @moondancer-rp, @lordhusband

[lordhusband]

Prior to Queen Rhaenyra's Coronation Ball

“It should have been you,” Corlys said, moments after Rhaenys’ ladies closed the door behind them, leaving him alone with his wife. “The crown should be yours,” he repeated as he walked up to her. The look she sent him spoke volumes. It’s been thirty years. Let’s not do this today. “I know, I know,” he said and placed his hands upon her hips, smiling as her arms wound around his neck, her fingertips tickling the hairs on his neck.

He was dressed to perfection. Velaryon blues, soft pliable leather details. The decorative breastplate with the Velaryon hippocamp embossed. Even his belt buckle showed the Velaryon insignia. He had half expected Rhaenys to wear Targaryen colours; reds and blacks. Or black and gold as she had worn at Laenor and Rhaenyra’s wedding. But when she had asked him to bring a specific blue silk from High Tide he was proud to learn that she would be displaying Velaryon colours at the coronation ball.

“Will there be dancing tonight?” He asked, lips close to hers. He expected a yes but received only a peck and a smirk in return, before she pulled from him. “Come, Princess. Let’s celebrate our new Queen.”

Word count: 200

@black-queen-rising @rideroftheredqueen @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood

[rideroftheredqueen]

Rhaenys had always treasured family time. It might be one of the only virtues she had inherited from her mother, though her muñazma The Good Queen continued to influence her being. Spending time with the Velaryon side of the family was even more rare than family time with the Targaryen side of the family. It had been complicated between Corlys and Vaemond for years, before Vaemond’s death. A complication that had led to unwanted estrangement from Vaemond’s family.

It had taken years, but trust had been rebuilt, family ties were rewoven and Rhaenys and Corlys enjoyed spending time with Vaemond’s children and grandchildren. As with many other young in the family, they called Rhaenys and Corlys their grandparents. It wasn’t the true explanation, but it often explained the relations without too many questions asked.

When Daenaera had approached Rhaenys asking for new braids, Rhaenys had readily agreed. And once Little Nyssie had settled for her long afternoon nap, they began the process. Rhaenys liked the monotony of dividing the hair and doing the actual braids. But she adored the company and the conversations that often came forth when two people had a long task ahead of them that required little movement.

Rhaenys looked up from her work, as prompted. “It’s beautiful, Daenaera. If it does not match, we shall have a dress made to match the necklace.” She praised with ease. She had a few of Daenaera’s creations in her jewelry collection and used them in rotation with her other jewelry.

Her fingers continued their work, uninterrupted until the question came to that of dragons. Rhaenys finished the braid and tied it off, before she let her hands rest in her lap as she pondered her answer.

“Which dragon would you claim?” She started curiously. There were few wild and unclaimed dragons now. But with luck Meley’s new clutch would hatch and new dragons would be added to the realm. “Velaryons have never been known to be dragon riders. That trait has followed Targaryens I’m afraid. Of course there have been dragon riders with Velaryon as their name, but not without very close bonds to Targaryens. Like my Laena and Laenor. Corlys has never made an attempt to or seemed interested in claiming a dragon. He has his ships and his trades. Claiming a dragon is a dangerous task, many have been burned or lost their lives if they could not read the dragon’s signals well enough and pushed beyond the dragon’s boundaries.”

starter for @rideroftheredqueen

Daenaera sat in the chambers of Princess Rhaenys, as her dress sprawled out across the floor. It had been some time since she had gotten her hair braided… and there was only one person who she allowed anyone to do her hair.

The little Velaryon sat on the floors as her hands fiddled with the small beads in her hands as she started to string the thread.

She started to bead a new necklace for herself… as she had her own box already premade jewelry. She focused on the already in the box as she wanted to having a matching set.

The fourteen year old looked up at her grandmother. “Do you think these match..? especially with the new dress, that father bought me?” she brought up the the new piece of jewelry and showing it to the princess.

As she felt the hands and brush, and going through her hair… she suddenly had a curious thought. Her eyes widened…. as she realized something.

Her hands stopped at the beads that were going through her thread. “Do you think… I could claim a dragon…?” she gently scooted up making a distance, from Rhaenys. as she looked up the Princess’ eyes.

“I have Velaryon blood… what would stop me from claiming a dragon…” The little girl asked.

[ladyregentclarice]

Challenge:

Write a scene (at least as long as the post requirement so 200+ words but it can be as long as you like) between your character(s) and any other character within the RP that is NOT currently written or playable! This can be between your character and someone else who is writable but hasn't been taken yet, between your character and an NPC because they're too young, or even a flashback between your character and someone not playable because they've died before where we currently are in the story's timeline!!

She visits him, with a bouquet of baby’s breath, sunflowers, and lavender before the sun even began to stretch its rays across the eastern sky. She comes alone, the only time she was these days, and silently she is thankful for the silent agreement to allow her this time with Lorence. Especially now that his statue had been completed, the likeness both a comfort and a knife in the heart as she placed the bouquet at its feet and gazed upward towards its face as she remembered the horror of that day.

“He is not in pain,” The maester tells her as they stand in the entrance of the tent, the air thick with the scent of sweat and horses and blood. “He has been given milk of the poppy to ease his pain, however…” Clarice could barely hear the man as he spoke of her husband, of the injuries done to his person that gave no hope of recovery. She feels as though she is in a daze, hardly aware of those around her or even the gentle press to cross the threshold into the pavilion that felt like a floral tomb.

And there, laid out as though already on his funeral bier, was Lorence.

She moves towards him slowly, with each step silently begging to be woken from this nightmare as she gazed down at her husband. His eyes were shut, his skin so pale he would’ve blended with the sheets if they weren’t so stained from his blood, his skull incised under his skin, as if his injuries was determined to devour him to his bones.

Clarice choked back tears, fighting furiously against them as she didn’t want him to see her like this. To see her disconsolate; he needed to take strength from her presence, know that she—

“Clarice.”

Immediately she is at his side, taking his hand that felt alarmingly cold to her touch. And in his eyes, red-rimmed, she saw fear. For he did not feel the pain of his injuries anymore, because of the drugs administered, but there was a deeper pain that caused that fear.

Lorence knew he was doomed.

His fingers dug into her flesh as he rasped at her to listen, weakly tugging at her until she leaned in, breathing in the fetid smell of blood and sweat and death.“You must listen to me. I must tell you…I…I failed you. I was a fool, and I have spoiled your happiness with my foolishness.”

“No, you haven’t. Don’t say such things.”

“Clarice.” His hand gripped her wrist, not hearing her refutes as he fought to speak. “Jon and Roger will be castellan and steward for ly-Lyonel, but you will be his regent. You must be his regent.” She must have looked as though she might pull away in disbelief, but icy grip held her in place and his face- By the Seven, his face! “You must work with them, to make Lyonel safe in his lordship. Promise me.” And with tear filled eyes, she promised, and Lorence sighed, fingers unraveling from her wrist, his body limp.

Clarice gazed up at the stone rendering of her husband, tired in a way that she felt in her very soul. It clung to her like a marriage cloak, a heavy weight of exhaustion from just trying to survive one day to the next. Whoever came up with the lie that time healed all wounds, Clarice wanted to scream at them for such a lie.

For time will not heal this wound.