#Council of Wyrms

[oldschoolfrp]

Up and away to Cloud City, in search of the "Sleeping Dragon" (Peter Clarke cover for Dungeon 48, July/August 1994, featuring the silver dragon player character Agoron Cloudwalker and his elf kindred Larala Firstleaf, from Bill Slavicsek's AD&D adventure for his own Council of Wyrms setting)

[vintagerpg]

Council of Wyrms (1994) is a D&D campaign setting that ponders the question, “What if dungeons WITH dragons?”

This is a unique campaign setting, a string of islands where dragons of all kinds (metallic, chromatic and gemstone) live apart from the world. In the past, they warred ceaselessly on each other, but recently they have founded a sort of democracy (the titular council, which I can’t help but read as making fun of the 1521 Diet of Worms in some inscrutable way). They did this in order to deal with the incursion of pesky human dragonslayers who were systematically eradicating them (there is also maybe some unintentional metaphor regarding the idea of external enemies being necessary for social stability, but maybe I am reading in too much).

Players take the role of dragons! They can also be half-dragons, or the servitors of dragons, but why would you do that when you can play a dragon? This arrangement reminds me of a sort of summer blockbuster version of Ars Magica for some reason.

Dragons! It really is a mind-boggling thing to realize it took two decades before someone came up with the idea of actually playing the dragons (that someone was Bill Slavicsek, who previously work on the West End Games Star Wars RPG, a fact that brings a lot of context to this project, I think). I have to say, the rules for playing dragons are suitably muscular. I suspect this flavor of D&D is extremely cathartic and freeing. At least for a while. Staying power aside, this is a richly realized box set, which was a surprise when I actually sat down to sift through it — I always thought on some level that it was an elaborate practical joke.

Perhaps realizing this sort of high-powered play would rapidly loose its charm, this was the only Council of Wyrms product, one of very few stand-alone products in the 2e era. It was released later as a hardcover “campaign option,” but that is essentially the same material.

[cant-blink]

Council of Wyrmlings

I do a Dungeons and Dragons roleplay with my friends, using the Council of Wyrms module as the groundwork (a campaign where you play as dragons). In this module, dragons of different species live in a 'unified' society under a single governing body called the Council of Wyrms on an archipelago called Io's Blood Isles. Unsurprisingly, a society of good-aligned metallic dragons, evil-aligned chromatic dragons, and neutral-aligned gem dragons being thrown together isn't exactly smooth sailing.

To foster relationships between species, the clans of each dragon species must give their eggs as tributes to be raised under the Council. Wyrmlings of different species are raised with each other and learn to work together, before being sent back to their respective clans when they're of age.

Our roleplay consist of these particular wyrmlings from left to right, some you may recognize from my previous posts.

Zinezmal the Copper wyrmling. The prankster, mastermind of shenanigans, youtuber, constantly in prison for trying to steal from the stupid. He likes to goad and taunt the chromatic members of the group and is very annoying in his pranks and constant roasting, but also very brave and ready to fight for his team when shit hits the fan. Like his character outside the RP, this Zinezmal has a crush on Nizi and makes no secret of it, being very protective of her and teaching her to use her yappiness to roast others without a filter. He is the hardest character for me to play with all his wittiness, hence why he's in jail for his pranks and thievery so many times.

Nizi the Brass wyrmling. The character I play as the most. She is the tiniest and weakest member of the group, and she likes to talk. A lot. She likes to talk to everything and everyone and will kidnap you to make that happen. "One time, I yawned," is a sentence she said, it's THAT level of inane jabbering. She doesn't like fighting, and often tries to stop the others from fighting too much. She is very insecure about her place in the team, especially when Zinezmal is in prison to leave her as the only metallic in the group of chromatics. At one point, she tried to be mean and evil to fit in, which only made the chromatic members very confused (it did earn her the title of Nizi the Nazi though). Nowadays, though still insecure as to what she brings to the table, she is pulling her weight and using her ability to talk to everything to the benefit of the group. Like helping them from being held hostage by a rogue clan of Blue Dragons through talking to and convincing a scarab to help them escape. Nizi is constantly trying to foster a friendship with the Blue wyrmling of the group, knowing their species are destined to be at odds and trying to avoid that future with him.

Raikirin the Blue wyrmling, played by one of my friends. The official leader of the group after winning against his Red rival in the Challenge of Claw and Wing (a system of ritualized combat made to settle disputes). As vain and prideful as you would think a Blue to be, he nonetheless tries to be a fair leader to the group. Though he goes out of his way to antagonize the Red wyrmling, and is not immune to being annoyed with Zinezmal and Nizi, when shit goes down, he steps up. One of his greatest displays of leadership is when the group was captured by a rogue clan of Blue Dragons (which happened to be the clan his egg came from), and Raikirin refused to join the Blues, and chose to stay by his wyrmling companions even when it meant being imprisoned alongside them. In the words of Nizi: "He chose to betray his own kind and be disowned from his clan, ostracized forever, and is now an orphan, because he chose us! So even though he's an orphan that nobody wants, he's a part of our family! He's my big brother, and we can be unwanted orphans together!"

Rhaegar the Red wyrmling, played by my second friend, is the largest wyrmling in the group. He is forever bitter that he lost being the leader to an inferior Blue, and he is constantly getting into arguments and scuffles and "bap battles" with Raikirin. Despite his anger and bluster, he seems to have a soft spot that opens when Nizi is in distress and she confides in him and he lets her train with him. He is also the group's heat pad when they go out on quests, finding himself at the bottom of the cuddle pile on cold nights, much to his chagrin.

Zithuzirrurrin the Gray wyrmling, is a newcomer to the scene both in the RP and my list of dragon characters. He is not part of the Council, his kind not recognized in their society as proper dragons and his kind not native to the Blood Isles. His egg was laid and abandoned on one of the small islets and he was found stalking the group during one of their quests. Intrigued by the concept of the Council and this draconic society, he decided to follow them. Though Nizi calls him her dog, he is treated as a proper member of the group. He established himself as the physically strongest wyrmling of the group, beating Rhaegar in arm wrestling, and he loves the hunt. When the wyrmlings were separated from each other, he aided in tracking down the lost members. Including Zinezmal, who was having a Jack Sparrow-esque misadventure with a tribe of kobolds. He doesn't talk too much and is often seen observing the wyrmlings in the background, at times amused and at times wondering what he's gotten himself into.

Sargoth the Black wyrmling. He is the member often causing the most trouble. He is spiteful and cowardly, more cowardly than Nizi is as he will choose to flee rather than fight when shit hits the fan. He is very orientated to ensuring his own survival and to hell with everyone else. He is often butting heads with Raikirin (whom he sarcastically refers to as their 'wise leader'), always questioning the Blue wyrmling's decisions. Raikirin is aware of a black dragon's fiercely independent nature and has tried to talk Sargoth into being more of a team player, though he also resorts to threats if Sargoth doesn't comply. Sargoth also likes to steal kills, hiding when combat starts and striking only when their foe is near defeat. He despises Nizi, whom he recognizes as the weakest member of the group. He doesn't tolerate her yapping and has tried on multiple occasions to kill her. He doesn't like the Council either, seeing it as unnatural and hating that he is being forced to work with those he instinctively considers his enemies. That said, his survivalist viewpoint does prove advantagous at times, and it was ultimately his plan that allowed them to work together efficiently enough escape Blue Dragon captivity. He is also paid, by Nizi, to catch fish for the group to eat during their quests, so there's that too.

[patiusarchivist]

I love my little blue guy and I hope he can grow into the big, sultry, enchanting bardic lord that I know he can become.

The dice was nice to give me a blue draconic bard who may or may not be a child of my Second Tiamat.

[lord-soth-dk]

[wellthebardsdead]

Urag: Arch mage Deneth did try dressing him in traditional dunmer garb when he was younger but he was so clumsy he kept tripping over the fabric.

Wyrm: *from behind the door* i-i was not! It was too big on me!!!

Nerevar: *looks at urag* was it?

Urag: *shakes his head chuckling* we hemmed it up to his mid shins to be safe and he still tripped over it.

Voryn: all done! *opens the door and ushers Wyrm out*

Wyrm: *dressed in a flowy pretty hanfu in the colours of house sotha, visibly pouting* I hate it.

Nerevar: Hate it?! You look great!

Wyrm: *fidgets his arm aggressively before nearly ripping the sleeve to get his hand free* it’s too bulky and flappy and itchy and I hate it!!

Voryn: okay okay we’ll try the more fitted one now. *pats his hair and turns him around gently ushering him back into his room*

Wyrm: *takes one step and instantly face plants into the floor* …Just let me be naked.

[dragongirlkisser]

ujhhskljgs ough ooohhh i think i hauve covid

[miiroki]

𝘿𝙖𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 & 𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧/𝙤𝙘

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘙𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 11𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥.

Warning: targcest, (niece and uncle) 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

one: ✶ two: ✶

Prince Daemon Targaryen, Lord of Flea Bottom, as he was now deemed in hushed tones had nothing on his mind except his marriage with Lady Rhea Royce.

He had thrown quite the fit when it was announced, his own brother had agreed with the marriage, which lead to the eventual ceremony.

Daemons own grandmother, Alysanne, had arranged the two to wed, others in the council nodded at the offer. The Royce’s were the second most powerful house in Vale, on paper it was a good match for a prince who was second born and wasn’t sent to inherit anything.

But the others had neglected one crucial detail. Daemon Targaryen was vicious, and only marched to the beat of his drum.

Having been wed to an intolerably plain women that bored him was terrible, not being able to return to Kings Landing whenever to visit with his sweet niece had irked him, Runestone felt like exile.

Above all else his bride was not of Valaryen descent, even if Rhea bore children, it’s likely that they would never become dragon riders. To Daemon being wed to a women of brown hair, akin to horse shit, dark emotionless eyes, and that dull bronze armour, had to be the most humiliating action that had ever been done to him.

—

Daemon had finally been able to return to Kings Landing, where they would celebrate his nieces 11th name day.

Rhaella had written to him non-stop. Their were times where he had just finished his reply before another one of her letters had come again.

It’s sure that she has grown into a lovely girl, a flower with no thorns. The girl was gentle to even the roughest thugs for goodness sake.

Daemon had not held back and gotten her more things than any child should own, but it was his wonderful niece. She was no ordinary child.

—

“Kepa!” Fathers Brother

As soon as Caraxes had situated himself on the the ground, Daemon slid off his the wyrms wings and had leaned down, opening his arms towards his niece.

The young girl was dressed in frills and lace, she looked like a cake. Rhaella jumped into his arms and tried to embrace his neck.

“Lēkianna” Child of the older brother

Daemon embraced the girl in his end, tensing and crossing his arms across her back, as if she’d fly away as soon as he relaxed. He untucked her from his chest and pecked her forehead.

“Eman missed ao tolī olvie” I have missed you to much

He whispered in her hair, and slowly caressed the now messy silver locks.

Soft. Her scent had mixed with that of the Dragons den, like smoke, citrus and flowers, and something else he cannot name.

Rhaella squirmed into the crook of his neck and giggled. “You’ve gotten larger uncle. Mayhaps Caraxes will have a harder time riding with you”

He chuckled back, moving his arms to end at her waist, tickling her in the process.

Rhaella laughed uncontrollably while flailing in her uncles hold.

“You’ve gotten cheekier with no one to test you I see”

Rhaella didn’t listen and continued to climb all over his chest, finding herself on his shoulders, with Daemon having a strong hold on her legs.

—

Rhaella’s name day celebration was well underway, many lords of the area had attended and brought gifts, ranging from jewel encrusted jewelry, to soft animal shaped pilwe.

The young lady of the hour had last been seen with her twin sister talking to other young maidens from distinguished houses.

Currently she was no where to be found.

On a grassy hillside, the pair of Daemon and Rhaella had escaped the roaring festivities. Viserys had always liked his feasts.

Rhaella had come up to Daemon and requested for him to take her away from the all the ‘scary people’, as she put it.

He had taken Caraxes out of his den and flew to a small grassy Island littered with wild flowers.

Rhaella had been entertaining herself by sticking flowers of all shapes and sizes into Daemons hair. The silver locks now filled with blues and yellows. His back was facing her as he lounged on the grass.

“You look prettier like this Kepa” Rhaella muttered in a hushed tone, her fingers desperately trying to keep the red flower from falling off his head.

“Are you saying your uncle is not attractive?”

“Noo” Rhaella gasped and encircled her small arms around his neck once more.

Daemon chuckled and slowly stood from his spot, dragging Rhaella up in the process.

“We should return, the people would be devastated if the young princess was to run away with her uncle” He carried her, pressing her small body into his tuniced chest.

“I refuse!” She grumbled into his clothes, gripping onto the maroon leather.

“You mustn’t sweetling”

“But I should”

“Stop it” Daemon taunted, reaching Caraxes who was enjoying the sun.

Rhaella sighed for the seemingly thousandth time, and continued to bury herself into her uncles body. “If I must you must also stay”

Daemon peered down at the young girl, her ears were red with embarrassment, and warm to the touch.

“As the young princess wishes of me” He laughed, earning smacks from the girl.

[dragondreamers]

SONOYA MIZUNO as LADY MYSARIA/THE WHITE WYRM in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON | S01E09 - "The Green Council"

[mclalan]

A small estate map of Northeast Wolderness, a wapentake within the County of Humbershire.

Pentascarth Peaks

River Wyn

Bridburn Orchard

Bridburn Abbey

Firley Village

Grinholm Mill

Skunlington Town

Skunlington Castle

Pentascarth Peaks

Pentascarth Peaks is an ancient evergreen woodland that once dominated Wolderness, but centuries of agricultural expansion have driven it back to the five hilltop peaks. Some say that Wyrms slumber within each of the five peaks, while others more accurately claim that the peaks mark the boundary of the Wolderness wapentake.

Both Bridburn Abbey and Skunlington Minster claim rights to the forest, leading to obvious land disputes. But while mortals argue over who owns what, the woods remain home to forgotten, ancient goddesses— though the monastics seem to agree on this being just superstition.

River Wyn

Leading down from Pentascarth Peaks is the River Wyn, cutting through Humbershire on its journey east to the Lyre Estuary. The Wyn boasts giant crabs with some allegedly growing to a formidable fifteen feet. But if you're tempted to go crabbing, beware of the water spirit Catharine Wart, who drags unsuspecting victims beneath the Wyn's currents.

Bidburn Orchard

Nestled within an oxbow is Bridburn Abbey's apple orchard. The monks began with the principle of ora et labora, or 'pray and labour,' but if it also produces apples so delicious and plentiful that kings from across the seas are willing to pay a pretty sum for them, then who are the Valynites to say no? Whether it's Wyn's blessed waters or the lay brothers' tireless work, the orchard certainly hasn't hindered the abbey's rise to fame and fortune. Just don’t get caught scrumping from it, or the monks will have your hand off.

Bridburn Abbey

Bridburn Abbey houses the Valynite Order, which seems more preoccupied with power and business than strictly worship. With extensive landholdings and significant influence in the region, the abbey functions as the principal rural manor of Wolderness. As a result, it has become the largest and wealthiest abbey in all of Humbershire. But beyond just collecting tithes from the surrounding peasants, the monks are skilled in land management, particularly in assarting the land of trees and marshes.

Firley Village

Firley Village, named after the fir trees that once grew in the area, is an agricultural settlement situated on the glebe of Bridburn Abbey.

A large plot of common land lies to the west of the village, while smaller plots are located south on the opposite bank of the River Wyn. While the villagers grow a rotation of barley and vegetables, they're best known for they're prized oxblood-coloured sheep, whose wool appears black but shines red when catching the light. You'd think the village would grow fat from the wealth of this highly sought-after wool, but as the village falls under the manorial holding of the abbey, it is the abbey that reaps the wealth.

Grinholm Mill

Grinholm Mill, a growing hamlet owned by the Rolleston family, offers a much more reasonable miller's toll compared to the one up by Bridburn Abbey. They've become quite popular amongst the peasants of Wolderness, (well at least by miller standards), as well as wealthy. Although they pay their tithe to the abbey like everyone else on this side of the river, they are perceived to have undermined the abbey’s milling soke monopoly—much to the abbey displeasure.

Skunlington Town

Skunlington is a prominent market town, both wealthy and influential, with a history that stretches back to the First Age. It's located behind a small range of hills that shield it from harsh weather and provides a natural defence, with an added Royal Castle on the highest peak for good measure.

The castle is about the only Royal influence in the town however, as Skunlington holds charters that grant it a degree of autonomy from the Crown. The town is governed by a council of Merchant Guild Aldermen in coalition with the Provost of Skunlington Minster. But despite this apparent independence, the town is practically in the pocket of the Archbishop of Humberthorpe, the capital city of Humbershire.

South of Bridburn Abbey, across the River Wyn, lies the land controlled by Skunlington Minster’s estate (marked in purple on the map). The large tract of empty land between Skunlington and Bridburn Abbey is an ongoing contention, as both estates claim it for their own. The bickering has gone on so long that the land has turned fallow. But the biggest source of contention is how Skunlington controls the river toll for use of its docks, with particularly extortionate prices for Bridburn Abbey. Rumour has it that Bridburn Abbey might just build a whole new town of its own, south of Skunlington, just to avoid paying this toll!

Skunlington Castle was strategically built in the First Age atop the highest hill on Pen-y-Skun for its vantage point overlooking the whole of North Wolderness Dale—crucial in the Woodsy War against the pagans. However, these days it’s the Crown's administrative center for Wolderness, run by the Under-Sheriff. Here, secular law is enforced, tasks such as collecting taxes for the Crown, raising levies, chopping off heads, that sort of thing. There’s a lot of overlap with the ecclesiastical courts however, sometimes resulting in collaboration and other times in clashes.

Skunlington Castle

But it’s not all work. The castle also serves as the hub for the gentry afterall, and they're not exactly know for their hard work. So the castle hosts games, jousts, fairs, that sort of thing, and a bed for when the King comes to visit.

[gojuo]

this show went from aemond killing luke (who took out his eye) to purposely killing his brother, because of some drunken joke.

Aemond embarrassed him at the council by also speaking Valyrian fluently and Egg could barely complete a sentence, they were even!

kill a sibling and and not feeling the slightest bit of guilt He takes aegon's dagger and walks away casually as if it wasn't his full brother dying there) about it is something only the worst of the worst would do such as gregor clegane, euron greyjoy and ramsay bolton. it's sick..nothing like stannis and maekar who killed their brothers but had no happiness about it

even daemon targ didn't dare try to kill viserys wtf

we are doomed. we expected complexity between aegond and we received and we received an attempt at fratricide and regicide 😭

It's just not even remotely an interesting or compelling or sympathetic character arc or motivation to me, sorry. I didn't care for Aemond in the book, I loved him in the show out of spite, now I'm back to not caring about him bc this is just not the type of character whose development, whether it be a progression or a regression, I enjoy following. My bridges are burned 😬

Side note maybe but I've noticed how it's Daemon that's getting the sympathetic portrayal concerning his family over his narrative foil Aemond, which, in my opinion, is another aspect of the Greens Condal is taking away and giving to the Blacks that I've been harping on about in posts and tags everywhere lately.

The greatest of his rivals was Daemon Targaryen, the king’s ambitious, impetuous, moody younger brother.

Fire and Blood, p. 354.

As King Viserys had no living son, Daemon regarded himself as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and coveted the title Prince of Dragonstone, which His Grace refused to grant him…but by the end of year 105 AC, he was known to his friends as the Prince of the City and to the smallfolk as Lord Flea Bottom. Though the king did not wish Daemon to succeed him, he remained fond of his younger brother, and was quick to forgive his many offenses.

Fire and Blood, p. 355

Thus did matters stand in King’s Landing late in the year 105 AC, when Queen Aemma was brought to bed in Maegor’s Holdfast and died whilst giving birth to the son that Viserys Targaryen had desired for so long. The boy (named Baelon, after the king’s father) survived her only by a day, leaving king and court bereft... save perhaps for Prince Daemon, who was observed in a brothel on the Street of Silk, making drunken japes with his highborn cronies about the “heir for a day.” When word of this got back to the king (legend says that it was the whore sitting in Daemon’s lap who informed on him, but evidence suggests it was actually one of his drinking companions, a captain in the gold cloaks eager for advancement), Viserys became livid. His Grace had finally had a surfeit of his ungrateful brother and his ambitions.

Fire and Blood, p. 359.

Prince Daemon was not amongst them, however. Furious at the king's decree [naming Rhaenyra heir], the prince quit King's Landing, resigning from the City Watch. He went first to Dragonstone, taking his paramour Mysaria with him upon the back of his dragon Caraxes, the lean red beast the smallfolk called the Blood Wyrm. There he remained for half a year, during which time he got Mysaria with child. When he learned that his concubine was pregnant, Prince Daemon presented her with a dragon's egg, but in this he again went too far and woke his brother's wroth. King Viserys commanded him to return the egg, send his whore away, and return to his lawful wife, or else be attained as a traitor. The prince obeyed, though with ill grace, dispatching Mysaria (eggless) back to Lys, whilst he himself flew to Runestone in the Vale and the unwelcome company of his "bronze bitch." But Mysaria lost her child during a storm on the narrow sea. When word reached Prince Daemon he spoke no syllable of grief, but his heart hardened against the king, his brother. Thereafter he spoke of King Viserys only with disdain, and began to brood day and night on the succession.

Fire and Blood, p. 360.

After Mysaria lost her unborn child, Daemon hated Viserys. He had no love for his brother anymore and began his grooming of an 8-year-old Rhaenyra to get closer to what his biggest wish in life was: the Iron Throne.

Notice how this is not him in the show but Aemond now? The bullying + brothel plotline to make him hate Aegon is not there in the book. In contrast, Aegon, Aemond and Daeron together actually hated the Strong bastards and none of them, especially not Aegon, were friends.

The sins of the fathers are oft visited on the sons, wise men have said; and so it is for the sins of mothers as well. The enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra was passed on to their sons, and the queen’s three boys, the Princes Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, grew to be bitter rivals of their Velaryon nephews, resentful of them for having stolen what they regarded as their birthright: the Iron Throne itself. Though all six boys attended the same feasts, balls, and revels, and sometimes trained together in the yard under the same master-at-arms and studied under the same maesters, this enforced closeness only served to feed their mutual mislike, rather than binding them together as brothers.

Fire and Blood, p. 377-378.

It was Viserys actually who hurt Aemond over being dragonless, NOT Aegon.

Only the middle son, Prince Aemond, remained dragonless, but His Grace had hopes of rectifying that, and had put forward the notion that perhaps the court might sojourn at Dragonstone after the funeral. A wealth of dragon’s eggs could be found beneath the Dragonmont, and several young hatchlings as well. Prince Aemond could have his choice, “if the lad is bold enough.” Even at ten, Aemond Targaryen did not lack for boldness. The king’s gibe stung, and he resolved not to wait for Dragonstone.

Fire and Blood, p. 380.

Aemond in the book was also never characterized as lusting after the throne like Daemon was. He's always been presented as a staunch supporter of Aegon's birthright.

One-eyed Prince Aemond, nineteen, was found in the armory, donning plate and mail for his morning practice in the castle yard. “Is Aegon king?” he asked Ser Willis Fell, “or must we kneel and kiss the old whore’s cunny?”

Fire and Blood, p. 397.

The greatest danger was deemed to be Storm’s End, for House Baratheon had always been staunch in support of the claims of Princess Rhaenys and her children. Though old Lord Boremund had died, his son Borros was even more belligerent than his father, and the lesser storm lords would surely follow wherever he led. “Then we must see that he leads them to our king,” Queen Alicent declared. Whereupon she sent for her second son. Thus it was not a raven who took flight for Storm’s End that day, but Vhagar, oldest and largest of the dragons of Westeros. On her back rode Prince Aemond Targaryen, with a sapphire in the place of his missing eye. “Your purpose is to win the hand of one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters,” his grandsire Ser Otto told him, before he flew. “Any of the four will do. Woo her and wed her, and Lord Borros will deliver the stormlands for your brother. Fail—” “I will not fail,” Prince Aemond blustered. “Aegon will have Storm’s End, and I will have this girl.”

Fire and Blood, p. 400.

“You must rule the realm now, until your brother is strong enough to take the crown again,” the King’s Hand told Prince Aemond. Nor did Ser Criston need to say it twice, writes Eustace. And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror. “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed. Yet Aemond did not assume the style of king, but named himself only Protector of the Realm and Prince Regent.

Fire and Blood, p. 437.

I know people like using this passage as evidence that Aemond wanted the crown, but this is the only sentence that insinuates such a thought in the entirety of F&B, and it then also gets shots down immediately in the next sentence after. People can yap about how Aemond knows he can’t do or say anything as long as Maelor is alive, but when this one sentence—which gets rebuked pronto anyway—is the only evidence you have for that headcanon vs. Daemon who in the text explicitly and repeatedly is said to want to throne and hate his brother, then it’s just not a supported notion in the text or subtext at all.

That “‘Tis I the younger brother who studies philosophy, history and swords etc. etc.” is also nowhere in the book. This second son complex is just a show invention that used to be Daemon’s in the book now given to Aemond in the show, because of course Condal wants Daemon to be far more sympathetic in the eyes of the audience through exploring his love and guilt towards his brother and Rhaenyra with the Harrenhal hallucinations, rather than Aemond, whose actions snowballed into Blood and Cheese and who has a far better character arc lying in wait if that love and guilt he feels towards his brother post-B&C had actually been his.

Show!Aemond is such a wasted character, really. They had so much potential in him becoming an unhinged, murderous psycho falling into impatiency (reason for leaving KL and Cole unprotected) and mania (reason for carpetbombing the Riverlands) because of the immeasurable guilt he feels for what his actions have caused his family (Kinslaying!! The greatest sin in Westeros!!! Blood and Cheese!! ASOIAF’s most atrocious event that kinda happened because of him a little bit!!!)... And yes, it’s not a justification but it’s a reason for why he would do such monstrous things in the book because that’s just how a young, 19-year-old, emotionally volatile, new-to-the-horrors-of-war Targaryen prince with access to nukes would act like once he’s wholly consumed by the guilt of Blood and Cheese and war and the failure at Rook’s Rest and his brother’s disability therefore he’d become unable to face his family anymore culminating in what’s basically his suicide above the God’s Eye... His obsession with facing Daemon could have been because he feels like he has to redeem himself towards his brother for kinda being the cause of Jaehaerys’ death... but Ryan Condal does not want the viewer’s focus to stay on Blood and Cheese or else that would mean negative feelings towards Daemon and Rhaenyra are validated, and also the Greens can’t love each other and care about each other or how else can Condal portray them as fuckups unworthy of positivity so that the viewer does not get attached to them or root for them? Blood and Cheese and Jaehaerys have practically been forgotten by the Greens and the show by now. Nobody cares anymore! How many times has anyone even said his name? Uggghhhhh.

That love and loyalty the Greens feel for each other was, of course, all propaganda 🙄 Daemon in the book got his somewhat redemption through saving Nettles at the cost of betraying Rhaenyra, so fuck Condal for switching him and Aemond around and fuck Condal for cutting Nettles in order to whitewash Rhaenyra some more. And then stealing the love and loyalty the Greens had to the family and giving it to the Blacks. Ugh.

[oldschoolfrp]

It's good to be the king. It's better to be a dragon-mage clan lord. (Arnie Swekel pencils and design, and Glen Angus ink, from Council of Wyrms, AD&D 2e boxed set with rules and unique campaign setting for playing dragons as PCs, written by Bill Slavicsek, TSR, 1994)

[certifiedskywalker]

She Keeps Me Warm - Rhaenyra Targaryen

nyrathecruel asked: Could I request Rhaenyra x handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even a bit of soft smut, though it doesn’t have to be smut if you’re not comfortable

Anonymous asked: Could you do a Rhaenyra x fem stark reader pls :)

A/N: I had TWO IDEAS for these requests! So stay tuned for another fic publishing soon!

They were not well-kept secrets, Daemon’s unsavory proclivities. So, in turn, Rhaenyra went to neither effort to hide her misery nor how you, a simple handmaiden from the North, seemed to be its only remedy. 

“Enter, perzītsos. He has gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the low sound of Rhaenyra’s voice and you pulled your ever-listening ear from the ironwood door. Your hand, fumbling with the wiry giddiness of a lightning bolt, found the cool handle and pushed with a turn. Tongues of yellow and orange greeted you with licks of diminished warmth along with the sight of Rhaenyra, bathed in the same glow. She sat, body spread and extended over the plush armchair before the fireplace.

“Apologies, my Princess, I did not wish to intrude on-”

“What have I told you?” 

Her voice was low still, her eyes still fixed on the dwindling flames, as she addressed you. Heat rushed up to your face and washed down like the tides of the Narrow Sea. Your mouth opened slightly before you closed it, your muscles suddenly all-too-alive. Luckily, the Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne, clarified. 

“You must call me Rhaenyra,” she turned to you then, light eyes darkened by the colors of fire and smiling softly. “I will not have you hiding behind formality or dutiful, Northern niceties.”

“Apologies,” you echoed, swallowing hard. “I did not wish to intrude on your lawful husband…having you.” 

Rhaenyra’s smile faded, ebbed into a flatline of stone sternness you recognized from meetings with the maester. “He left before dusk on Caraxes, an hour or so before by which I told you to arrive. There was no having of any sort.”

She moved to her feet then, her shoes knocking against the heated stone floor of her chambers as she approached you like the Blood Wyrm in her crimson gown. Her eyes were squinted slightly, focused on you, your face, reading how your eyes slowly widened with her every careful step. It was the same manner in which she approached you the first time: calculated, a predator eyeing prey. The lightning returned again, sending you into a brewing storm that culminated in Rhaenyra’s lips.

When she stood full before you, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the column of your neck. Your breath hitched immediately, and trepidation caught in your throat.

“Princess,” you whispered, though it sounded more like a gasp. Rhaenyra immediately pulled away from your neck, revealing her furrowed brow and playful scowl. “I still do not understand.”

“My perzītsos, what more is there to understand?” Her hands raced up the bodice of your gown to your neck. Her hands were warm dancing along your most sensitive skin. 

“Prince Daemon-” “Is off sowing dragonseed,” Rhaenyra said, though the ease with which she used the term alarmed you. “Just as my court remains adrift gathering council. All men, all cold, making me colder and I will not have that. I will have you.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips back against your neck, closer to your jaw. You shivered again, your body knocking against hers instinctively, careening into her warmth. The tip of her nose tickled your skin as her lips went lower, nipping at your collarbone. Your hands rose to her waist, the whaleboning of her corset bodice. Beneath the fabric, you could feel her breathing grow more erratic. Your own breathing grew shallow with excitement, so much so that you pushed the Princess gently away. 

She gave you a worried look, her hands caressing your flushed cheek. “Do you not wish to have me?”

White hot, dragon fire panic shot through your veins. “No, no, I-”

But Rhaenyra was recoiling despite your manic clarification, already reigning in herself, her want. She was cooling into her hardened self, the soul sent off to Dragonstone by the eyes of the critical court in King’s Landing. You had seen it too many times before. How practiced Rhaenyra was as holding parts of herself back.

You reached out, just as she had, with your lips finding her neck first and your hands on her gowned hips. She was stiff under your touch but for a moment until she quickly melted into you as your mouth moved up. You pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek before pulling away, eager to see her pleased, unworried; eager to see the Rhaenyra she only seemed to show you.

“I don’t understand what it means,” you breathed out, not entirely knowing what you yourself meant, only that whatever it was made your heart sing.

Rhaenyra seemed to reach and read the most clouded part of your mind, obscured to even you. Her smile returned in glorious full and you felt your heart tickle in your chest. In turn, you felt your own lips quirk upwards, ready to swallow the newness of it all.

“You mean perzītsos?”

You nodded, unsure at first, but, sure in how it made Rhaenyra smile.

“Perzītsos. Little flame. You burn in me. You keep me warm,” Rhaenyra softened, then, her smile ebbing ever-so-slightly. “In the darkest moments, you keep me alive.”

Without wasting another second lost in the storm, you barreled through and crashed your lips into Rhaenyra’s. It felt like you were falling until you actually were as Rhaenyra pulled you down onto the silken sheets of her bed, and the rest was warm.

[forgeofthenine]

would you write something for zevlor where him and his refugees make it to baldurs gate where they are not welcomed very nicely (word spread from elturel) and the daughter/niece of one of the dukes of the council of four steps in and gives them a warm welcome <3 congratulations on third place! it mustve been a great experience <3

Hi, here's just a lil fic. This was a cute idea for a fic and definitely gave me some things to think about while writing it. Thank you for the congratulations too :)

I would like to warn people that the reader in this is referred to as 'my lady' and a grand niece, but not otherwise gendered.

A Wyrms Crossing welcome

The rush of cold sea air meets your face as soon as you left the Elf Song, chilled wind rolling off the ocean and into the city in waves. Your fingers come to press against your temple as you step down the cobbled street, a headache having settled as soon as you stepped foot in that damned room. Hours of useless flaming fist questions didn't help. The crowds are bustling around you, children hawking papers and grifters putting on false magic shows that you easily ignore.

There's much on your mind, and yet you don't have the energy for any of it. The sun is too bright and the noises surrounding you too loud to let you focus. Thoughts swarm in your head as you let your feet lead you well away from a tavern you'd be happy never seeing again. It's only when you raise your head to gaze at Gortashs steel watchers that you realise you've trekked all the way across the city to a checkpoint, flooded with people and giant metal monstrosities.

A swarm of tieflings all stand at attention at the gates, just over a half dozen when you count the children too. There's one in particular that's stands out amongst them, arguing with the checkpoint guard despite the shaking in his hands. Shaking, that constant tremor, it's reminds you of her. Pushing the thought from your head you step forwards, the clack of your heels ringing out against the cobblestone streets. The guard turns from the tiefling then, dropping into a small bow at the mere sight of your approach, a polite "My lady" leaving his lips.

"At ease, guard. Might I find out why a half dozen tieflings are standing here debating with you?" Your eyebrow arches, trying to read the light nervousness on the guards face. He looks between you and the refugees for a moment, likely not seeing how the one he was arguing with perked up at your presence.

"The crossing is closed, my Lady. We aren't to let anyone through on Duke Gortashs orders, especially not without the assent of the steel watch-" He stops his pitiful explanation at a wave of your hand, watching intently as you now look to the refugees. They have deep, tired eyes, the lot of them are covered in bandages and rags for clothes. You wouldn't be surprised if they were all skin and bone under the dirty cloth.

"Never mind the watch, or the closed checkpoint." Your voice is clear as you turn back to the guard. "If Gortash has issue then he can take it up with me. The tieflings have permission to enter the city, by the authority of the Stelmane family." They all perk up when you mention 'permission', looking hopefull as you order the gate open for them. The guards give another bow before, reluctantly, opening the gate for the motley group.

The metal gives its own low groan of resistance before the gates finally swing open, revealing the packed dingy streets of Wyrms Crossing. Turning back to the group of refugees, you give them a small smile, waving them forwards and further into the city. "There's another checkpoint at the end of the crossing, I'll warn them to let you through."

You hear the chorus of assorted thank yous as the tieflings move further into the city, all of them smiling now that hope is back within reach. Soon, only the seeming leader of them hangs back with you, watching as the others excitedly sprawl across the streets. He clears his throat, looks down at his subtly shaking hands, and then turns back to you. "Thank you, on behalf of all of us. I quite honestly was wondering if this was where our journey would end."

The man's voice is low, gravely, and it sets a shiver running down your spine. Looking into his eyes again, suddenly he doesn't remind you so much of your great Aunt. Honestly, most of your thoughts don't matter anymore. "It's only the right thing to do, the group has children, and you look worse for wear." You motion to his shaking hands as he chuckles, obviously aware of the fact he looks quite hard done by. "Let me escort you into the city, I know some people who might be able to help with that." The offer is sweet, but said with a light tone of authority in your voice.

He bows his head lightly, responding in that same steady voice that instantly captures your attention. "It'd be a pleasure, my lady." He smiles, hesitating a moment before politely offering an arm. "And in the future I will do what I can to repay this kindness." He finishes, his arm firm around yours as you link them together, the light tremour still felt in his hand.

You know it will all draw attention, the grand niece of Duke Stelmane waltzing through the city with a tiefling refugee, but despite not knowing his name he's still the first person to make you feel alive since your aunt's death.

[arainaizevran]

in the epilogue, you can be a grand duke alongside wyll 🥺

Wyll: I am Wyll Ravengard, Grand Duke of the Wyrm, Heart of the Gate. And there's another I'd like to nominate - Grand Duke of the coast, Doom of the Dead Three. Namely, I nominate you. Please say you'll accept.

Player: I accept. I will join you on the council as a Grand Duke.

Wyll: Then we've a reason to celebrate tonight twice over. Hail Grand Duke of the Coast, Doom of the Dead Three! The city's future looks brilliant indeed.

[suspiciousbluejay]

Random theories, head cannons and predictions for Roots of Chaos books

I have been rereading both "Priory of the Orange Tree" and "A day of Fallen Night" and have been noticing new things and creating my own theories and head cannons. I'm listing these theories from the ones I consider most likely to the lest likely/ones that have the least evidence.

1.) The Earl of Honeybrook (Kits dad) or one of his ancestors was a practitioner of sterren. Samantha Shannon has confirmed that Kabala's last words "beware the sweet water" refers to Kits family. At the beginning of the book its revealed that "The Earl of Honeybrook stood with the other members of the Virtues Council. He did not look troubled by the absence of his son, who he resembled in every way but the mouth, which never smiled.". We know that the use of Sterren affects offspring by making them look identical to the parent. I believe that at some point after A Day of Fallen Night when Kabala regained her strength she decided that she wanted a child to train but instead of taking another child from the priory she chose and Inysh child and taught them how to use sterren.

2.) There is a 4th Siden tree. In A day of Fallen Night, Wulf mentions rumours that there is a valley in the north beyond Hróth where the eversnow melts (I can't find the exact quote -sorry). I believe that this is because there is another siden tree located in this valley and the fire from the siden causes the snow to melt. Apart from this rumour this theory doesn't not have much proof in the book but I believe it because one of the major themes is balance and having 4 trees, one in each main location (North - Hroth, South - Lasia, West - Inys/Nurtha, East - Komoridu) makes sense from a narrative perspective. Also Samantha Shannon has hinted that later books will explore the Hurin in more detail and as we know that there are Hurin in the north beyond Hroth.

3.) The lacustrine legend of "The little shadow girl" will appear as a narrator character/a character in a future book and tells us that the balance of the universe has been disrupted before. The legend of the little shadow girl tells the story of a little girl who "‘In the time before the Great Sorrow, a fire-breather flew to the Empire of the Twelve Lakes and ripped the pearl from the throat of the Spring Dragon". We do not know how much before the great sorrow this legend takes place but as it features a wyrm it means that this wyrm is either the Nameless one (which is not likely as we know when the nameless one first appeared he stayed in the South) or a new wrym which we have never met. We also know that "As the Spring Dragon mourned for her pearl, a most unnatural winter fell over the land". This makes me think that in the very ancient times when the balance was disrupted a diffrent wyrm was created (possibly from one of the eastern volcano's instead of the Dreadmount) stole the pearl which either caused a "unnatural winter" or coincided with the times that sterren was in power (which caused the "unnatural winter"). I think that this legend will play a large role in a future book (possibly the very ancient book with Siati the Dreamer).

4.) The "Melancholy King" for who the "desert of unquiet dream" is named, was affected by sterren not a desert mirage. The king first sees the mirage when he is in his palace which is in the middle of a city. In real life mirages only tend to happen when you are in the middle of a desert not when you are in a city environment. Because of this and the Kings steadfast belief that he is in fact in a dream makes me believe that he was seeing an illusion created by someone using sterren. I don't know who or why someone would do this though.