#Davos Dayne

[sebeth]

The World Of Ice And Fire: Nymeria Arrives In Dorne

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

  Nymeria and company head for Westeros, having no luck finding a home in numerous other locations. The fleet of ships have been battered and not all made it to their final stop of Dorne. There are “isolated pockets of Rhoynar on the Stepstones, claiming descent from those who were shipwrecked.” Other ships were blown off-course and became slaves of the Lys and Tyrosh.

The remaining ships landed at the mouth of the Greenblood river near the Sandship, the seat of House Martell.

Dorne was a dry, desolate land, thinly peopled, and filled with quarrelsome lords and petty kings’ endless wars.

Most Dornish did not welcome the Rhoynar. They were perceived as unwelcome invaders with foreign ways and strange gods.

Mors Martell, the Lord of the Sandship, saw an opportunity. Eight out of every ten Rhoynar were women and a quarter of those women were warriors. Thousands of Rhoynar who had been boys when they fled were now young men, trained in the use of the spear.

Mors realized he could increase his power by tenfold if he allied with the Rhoynar.

Mors wed Nymeria and hundreds of his knights, squires, and lords bannermen wed Rhoynish women. Many of the already wed Dornish took Rhoynar women as paramours. Very Alexander the Great of Mors and Nymeria!

The Rhoynar’s artisans, metalworkers, and stonemasons had far more advanced skills than their Westerosi counterparts. Their armorers produced swords, spears, and armor suits no Westerosi smith could match.

Most importantly, the Rhoynish water-witches knew “secret spells that made dry streams flow again and deserts bloom”.

Nymeria burned the ships after the weddings, declaring “Our wanderings are at an end. We have found a new home, and here we shall live and die.”

Some Rhoynar “mourned the loss of the ships, and rather than embracing their new land, they took to plying the waters of the Greenblood, finding it a pale shadow of Mother Rhoyne, whom they continued to worship.” They are known as the Orphans of the Greenblood to this day.

Nymeria and Mors then declared war on their fellow kings. At least six kings were sent to the Wall by Nymeria and Mors, leaving their greatest foe: Yorick Yronwood, the Bloodroyal, Fifth of His Name, Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, Knight of the Wells, King of Redmarch, King of the Greenbelt, and King of the Dornish.

The Martell/Yronwood War went on for nine years. Martell’s allies were House Fowler of Skyreach, House Toland of Ghost Hill, House Dayne of Starfall, and House Uller of the Hellholt. Yronwood’s allies were his bannermen: the Jordaynes of the Tor, the Wyls of the Stone Way, along with the Blackmonts, the Qorgyles, and more.

The Jordaynes of the Tor is a shout-out to Robert Jordan of the Wheel of Time fame. I’m not sure if the rest of Yronwood’s bannermen are references to other science fiction/fantasy writers.

Yorick Yronwood slew Mors Martell in the seventh year of the war. Nymeria assumed sole command of the Martel armies. Two years later, Yronwood bent the knee to Nymeria.

Nymeria remained sole ruler of Dorne despite remarrying twice – first to the aged Lord Uller of Hellholt and then to Ser Davos Dayne of Starfall, the Sword of the Morning. Her husbands served only as consorts and counsellors.

Nymeria ruled for twenty-seven years, survived a dozen attempts on her life, put down two rebellions, and threw back two invasions by the Storm King Durran the Third and one by King Greydon of the Reach.

In summary: Nymeria was a badass!

Nymeria had four daughters by Mors Martell and a son by Davos Dayne. The Dornish had adopted the customs and laws of the Rhoynar so upon Nymeria’s death, her eldest daughter succeeded her.

Up next, the Doom of Valyria

[asongoficeandfancasts]

Tags continued: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Daenerys and her non-Targaryen Westerosi Ancestors

[dyannawynnedayne]

Hi!! Six fanarts <3

Darkstar for @kampflesben

JonCon for @valyriansteelchair

Davos, Bran, Brienne, and BBfish for anons!! Have some more coming up, got more than six :>

[stannis-the-freaking-mannis]

old art alert 💅

(euron is not the best boy wtf)

[fvckiminthecloset]

Day Six: Which is the worse of all these non-canon ships in ASOIAF?

PREVIOUS ROUNDS:

Day One: Tie of 25.5% between Sansa and Jon & Aemond and Lucerys

Day Two: Brandon and Ned and Lyanna and Benjen at 33.3%

Day Three: Sansa and Sandor at 29%

Day Four: Catelyn and Edmure at 48.4%

Day Five: Victarion Greyjoy and Asha (Yara) Greyjoy ELIMINATED at 30.8%

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XXXIII ''Dārilaros''

Chapter XXXIV ''A meeting''

The time has finally come to the meeting with her allies and present a plan of action. Everyone gathered in the room with the map, sitting on chairs at the table. Only Grey Worm and ser Arthur stood, close to the wall.

"You want the Iron Throne, so just take it." Yara spoke up. "We have an army, a fleet and dragons, if we attack King's Landing with everything we have, the city will fall the same day."

"And how many innocent people will die, especially if the dragons are set free?" Tyrion remarked.

"This is war. If you don't have the nerve for it, don't play it." Ellaria interjected.

"We're supposed to discuss the plan, not argue and insult each other." Visenya said, interrupting everyone. "Just because we declare war doesn't mean that thousands of ordinary people have to die, I won't allow that. And I don't intend to rule the kingdom of ashes."

"That's good." this time Olenna spoke up. "I don't remember a Queen who was more beloved than my granddaughter. She was loved by both commoners and the powerful. And what is left of her? Ashes. The common and the powerful are like children, really. They won't obey you unless they fear you."

This is their first meeting, and almost nothing has gone her way this far. It was easier when she dealt with the Lords in Essos, they were evil men, she had no problem intimidating them into doing what she wanted. Here the situation was more complicated, she had to unite people who had to support her in order to stay on the throne.

She felt she couldn't show weakness because if she did, it would be the end of her. They will tear her to pieces and there will be nothing left of her.

"They have to fear the consequences of their actions, not me." she replied calmly. "Also, almost half the fleet has sailed back to Meereen, so we're not at full strength yet." she noticed.

"You're going to wait..." Olenna paused for a moment, counting in her head how long it would be before the ships return. "Almost half a year? Until winter comes?"

"We have enough men to lay siege to the city if you don't want to attack directly." Yara came back to her idea of ​​attacking King's Landing right away, it was in her mind the fastest way to take the Iron Throne.

Vis sighed in her mind and leaned further into her chair. She turned her gaze to Tyrion and nodded. Enough of this verbal bickering, they will tell them their plan for now and then they will argue if necessary.

"It would be a great idea, if not for a few "buts"..."he started and got up from his chair to illustrate their plan, pointing to specific places on the map and moving the figures. "King's Landing is surrounded mostly by forests, which is a problem in itself, and we don't know where the Iron Fleet or Lannister forces are right now, other than the garrison in the city. We also cannot forget about some of the Lords whom Cersei converted to her side by talking about foreign armies brought to Westeros and referring to their memories of the Mad King."

This time, no one commented on a single word Tyrion said. Everyone was waiting for the rest of his statement, which filled Visenya with hope that they would all be able to come to an agreement. She didn't have much input into the current plan, she just pointed out a few things. She would like to be able to say something more, to know what needs to be considered when planning the next steps, battles, sieges, and movement of troops.

Mostly she stayed silent and listened to her friends, learning from what they said, but she didn't have the courage to admit to them that she didn't know something. She was the Queen after all, she was supposed to lead them. This fear remained in her, that if she showed weakness, her potential allies would abandon her.

"Cersei will not attack first, she will wait for our move as long as she can. If she was going to attack any place, it would be Highgarden." he moved the lion figurine to the Tyrell residence. "Food supplies and gold that she will desperately need. Therefore, the Reach troops will remain in the Reach. We will transport the supplies we need at this moment on ships that will also take soldiers from Dorne. Before that, we will provoke the Iron Fleet by sending a small force to Casterly Rock, to secure the transport as best as possible." he paused for a moment. The rest of the plan was much more general. "Then we'll take care of the army in the country, outside King's Landind, so that they won't be able to break the siege. By then we should be able to challenge the Iron Fleet as they attempt to deliver supplies to King's Landing."

"That is my plan." she finally got up from her seat, leaning on the table with her hands. "Do I have your support?"

She felt her heart speed up and her lips suddenly become mercilessly dry. This is the first important moment in the fast-approaching war. Either they support her or she will be left alone on the battlefield.

"You have mine." Yara spoke first, decisively, without any hesitation in her voice.

"Dorne is with you, Your Grace." Elaria spoke up right after her.

The tension was already starting to leave her shoulders, but there was one more person who had to accept this plan and she turned her gaze to her. Olenna Tyrell. She finally nodded too.

"Thank you for your trust, I won't let you down." she smiled at everyone.

"Can we talk privately for a moment, Your Grace?" Lady Tyrell's question surprised her, but she nodded and everyone else began to leave the chamber. When they were alone, she went to sit on the chair next to her.

"I think I know what you want to say... You want revenge on Cersei. I know that's why you all support my claim to the throne." she said, taking a seat. That was the only reason she could think of for this conversation and she could assure her that justice will be served. "I swear that those who hurt us will pay for it a hundredfold. And then there will finally be peace in Westeros.

"Peace?" she didn't answer whether that was what she wanted to talk about, but she obviously picked up on the topic and had her own opinion. She had heard of the Queen of Thorns before her escape and knew she was an intelligent woman. That's why she wanted to listen to everything he had to say and draw some lesson from it. "Do you think there was peace when your grandfather sat on the Iron Throne? Or his father? Or that it would be if your father ruled? There is never peace, my dear. People will always find a reason to fight."

She wanted to deny it, to say that it was possible to keep the peace and she would do it, but then she realized that she couldn't argue, that Olenna was right. People fight when they are dissatisfied, and you can't please everyone. Someone will want more and more wealth, others will want higher and higher titles. She had already experienced in Meereen that it was impossible to create a place without violence, but she wanted to continue living this utopian dream.

"I wanted to give you a piece of advice." she finally said what she had wanted from the beginning. "Will you take it from an old woman?"

"I will never despise advice that someone wants to give me for free." she smiled warmly and shifted in her chair, crossing her legs.

"Your Hand is a clever man. I've known many people like him in my life and I've outlived them all. Do you know why? I ignored them." this surprised Visenya, she didn't expect this type of advice. "Lords of Westeros are sheep. Are you a sheep?"

Her smile faded. For a moment she wanted to look down, because it was hard for her to stand Olenna's gaze, but she didn't, she forced herself to manage it. Is she a gentle, naive sheep? Often yes... But she wouldn't call the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms that, but maybe she just didn't know them as well as Olenna.

"No. You are the dragon." a delicate smile appeared on her face again as soon as she heard these words. "Be a dragon."

"I will be."

* * *

The boat reached the shores of Dragonstone, in almost the same place where, about a month earlier, Visenya Targaryen had taken her first step in Westeros in four years. Tyrion, Missandei and a small force of Dothraki stood on the shore in case any trouble occurred.

Robb Stark and Ser Davos Seaworth came ashore, accompanied by some of their men.

"Someone escaped death from under the scythe." Tyrion spoke first, using his 'unfailing humor'.

"Someone has done it more times than me." Robb replied.

The last time they saw each other was when Tyrion returned from the Wall and went to Winterfell to hand over the design of a saddle for Bran so he could ride. Their relationship was not very good, mainly due to the suspicion that Tyrion ordered Bran's murder. And now he is here on Dragonstone, wearing the pin of the Hand of the Queen.

How far can his talk take him?

Tyrion preferred not to speak to Ser Davos due to the fact that when they were fighting against each other, when Stannis was attacking the capital, Davos's son was killed because of his plan. Yes... It's better not to bring up these memories.

"Welcome to Dragonstone." Missandei greeted everyone before Tyrion could say anything else. "The Queen knows it's a long journey and she appreciates the efforts you've made to get here. If you don't mind handing over your weapons.

It wasn't a question of whether they minded or not, they had no other choice. Of course they won't let them enter the castle with weapons. Robb tried to be optimistic, after all, things weren't looking bad so far, they were still alive.

When everyone gave up their weapons, things got a little worse, because some of the Dothraki went to get the boat that they used to reach the shore from the ship, picked it up and started walking away with it. So we are prisoners here?

"Please, this way." she smiled and gestured with her head for them to follow her. They had to walk most of the beach and up all the stairs before they entered the castle.

As they followed her, Davos went over to ask her where she was from, while Robb remained silent and focused on her unusual outfit. It was rather typical for women to wear dresses, especially those of high birth. However, Missandei did not have a dress, only a cloak which shape imitated the cut of the dress. Additionally, two belts crossed on her chest, holding some kind of shoulder straps, one of them had a silver brooch, circle with three dragon heads attached to it. And, of course, trousers and high boots. I wonder if their queen wears the same kind of clothes... She was probably the one who started this 'trend'.

"This place has changed." ser Davos said to him after he had exchanged a few words with Missandei and they continued walking along the beach towards the castle.

"Inside probably even more so, you won't see the same sigils anymore." he replied.

"I hope I don't have to visit the prison again."

He rolled his eyes at this answer and said nothing more. They would have no reason to keep them prisoners, they would rather kill them. But they are still alive, that's the most important thing. Perhaps they will even be able to leave this island on their own.

The building itself made a great impression, mainly due to the figures of dragons crowning the towers or above the gate and at the entrances. A stronghold for the Dragon Queen indeed. Although climbing all those stairs when you spent the last many days on the ship and didn't have much opportunity to walk... A bit of a challenge.

"How's Sansa? I heard she's alive and well." Tyrion asked him when they were almost halfway up.

"She's fine." he replied rather dryly. He still had a bad taste for the Lannisters, even though - apparently - Tyrion was now fighting against his family.

"Does she miss me a lot?" yes... He had already forgotten that they married his little sister to Tyrion... He gave him a look that was enough of an answer. "A marriage of convenience, and unconsummated." You would try to do it differently... "Anyway... She's smarter than she lets on."

"Oh, she's changed..." he sighed. He regretted that he had not been able to protect her from all the horrors that had befallen her, but the most important thing was that she had survived. She changed... Like all of them, they grew up faster than they should have.

"Someday I want to hear how you survived my father's trap and then took Winterfell back from the Boltons with your siblings." Tyrion wanted to add, 'You Starks are hard to kill', but he thought that would be an exaggeration, even for him.

At first, Robb felt a huge need to punch him for reminding him of those very painful moments. The only thing that stopped him was that he needed the Queen's help and he couldn't start a conflict between them.

"When you tell me how it happened that the Lannister went from being a torturer to becoming the Hand of Visenya Targaryen?"

"I have never been a torturer." Tyrion defended himself. He had never done anything bad to this girl, and now he actually admired her for what she was able to achieve. He may like to tease, but he won't let himself be called that. "And my path to this 'top' was long and quite bloody. To be honest, I was drunk for most of it." there was silence for a moment as they climbed the stairs. "Tell me, why exactly did you accept the invitation? If I were advising you, I would strongly advise you not to come here."

"Apparently I don't learn from my mistakes. Or maybe-" He stopped abruptly when he heard an inhuman screech just behind them.

Both he and Davos fell to the ground, as a pitch-black dragon flew just above their heads. More flew right behind him, green, golden and white, shimmering blue in the sun. The four of them had been circling the island and now they were racing around the castle.

Only the two of them fell to the ground, the others seemed to be used to this sight and inhuman sounds that quickly chilled their blood. Tyrion walked over and offered his hand to help him up.

"I'd say you'd get used to them, but you never really do." he declared, smiling slightly under his breath. "Come, their mother is waiting for you."

Inside, Visenya was not yet sitting on the throne, but she was impatiently pacing the room and waiting. As Tyrion and Missandei went to greet her guest, only Ser Arthur and a pair of Unsullied were left with her to stand guard.

She kept thinking about how she should start the conversation and what she should say to get what she wanted. He agreed to come, so that was already half of a win, but now she had to convince him. With Dorne and the Reach it was easier, Varys took care of the most important conversations - even though she didn't ask him to... - and there was a different mentality in these parts of the country. They did not lose much strength in the war, they were burning for revenge, while the North suffered a lot and probably wanted peace above all.

She doesn't want soldiers from them, she just wants the Starks to also support her claim to the throne and acknowledge her authority, that's all. But if you consider what the Mad King did to Brandon and Rickard Stark, what her father did to Lyanna Stark... But she is not them, she will not allow herself to be judged by the crimes of her ancestors.

"What do you think he's like?" she asked suddenly, finally moving away from the window. "Brave or stupid to accept my invitation?" she slowly walked up the stairs and finally sat down.

"People have heard of your achievements in Essos."

"And they also heard the rumors spread by Cersei. Apparently in some village they say I have a tail and horns."

"Quite a funny vision, who knows, maybe they would add to your charm?" she rolled her eyes. She knew that he was teasing her, trying to calm her down, so he must have noticed that she was stressed.

She would have said something back, but at that moment the door to the chamber began to open, so she straightened up in her seat and stared straight ahead. She should be used to it by now, but something made her unable not to get stressed. She kept her hands clasped in her lap and concentrated on not playing with them, not showing any nervousness.

"You stand in the presence of Visenya of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of Yunkai, Queen of Astapor, Queen of Meereen, the Unburnt, Breaker of the Chains." she was introduced with all her titles by Missandei, who was taking her place by the stairs to her left, Tyrion standing to her right.

Robb's first thought was that he had never heard of a person holding so many titles. Has anyone really ever called her all those titles? What does 'the Unburnt' even mean? Either she has actually achieved so much in the last four years, or she has a very large ego, or both.

"This is Robb Stark, King in the North." Ser Davos said, his voice echoing through the hall.

She didn't even listen to him much, she stared at the boy who immediately seemed familiar to her.

She had seen him before, seen those curls, even from this distance she could also tell that she had seen those blue eyes before. She dreamed of and danced with him. So maybe it belongs to him...

She realized that she had been silent for too long, that she should say something.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation, Your Grace." she emphasized these two words. "I hope the journey wasn't too hard." she decided to exchange pleasantries, as she first had to put thoughts of him aside before she could move on to politics.

"The winds were quite kind to us, thank you." he replied, having to focus on the here and now.

Of course, it didn't escape his notice that they had met before. She was the woman who had not left his thoughts for several days since the dream, she was the one who mounted the dragon and flew on its back. That silver hair and purple eyes are unmistakable, of course, a Targaryen.

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not like my enemies, I don't invite people under my roof and then kill them." she assured, even though nothing in his behavior indicated that he was afraid of her.

"A woman with an army, a fleet, and four dragons telling you not to be afraid of her is unheard of." she smiled slightly under her breath, even though he said it with noticeable irony in his voice, or maybe as a joke? She couldn't tell. "And you call yourself the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and I call myself the King of one of those kingdoms, doesn't that make us enemies, Your Grace?"

"Do you want to be my enemy?" she couldn't help but ask this question, even though she didn't expect any answer, so she quickly continued. "I don't want wars, violence should be the last resort, that's why I invited you here. We have a common enemy: Cersei Lannister. I propose that we become allies."

"On what basis?"

"The one you're thinking about. Support my claim to the crown, acknowledge my authority, and I will give us all our desired revenge."

Of course that's what she wants, that's why she invited him, just like he thought from the beginning... Perhaps if what was said about her - or rather what rumors Cersei was spreading - were at least partially true, he would not think long, just kneel and swear allegiance. But she didn't look like a monster, she didn't act like one. In fact, after what she really did, common people would say that she is an angel in human body.

It could have been just a cover, but it made him decide to fight for the independence of his kingdom.

"I can support your claim, but not to my kingdom." he said firmly. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but we don't know each other. We know as much about ourselves as we have been told. You are invoking a right that you don't actually have because your dynasty was overthrown. All you can do is win throne back and then I will recognize your rights." he paused for a moment, watching her reaction. She didn't look angry. "Do you really want to rule lands you don't know? I've heard  many good and bad things about you, I don't know what to believe, you can't expect to come back after four years and everyone submitting to you."

She didn't expect it, but she also didn't think of her rights as something she didn't actually have. Who else would have a better claim to the throne? There is no one else left to inherit from Robert, kingdoms could not remain under the rule of the usurper Cersei. It's not just that this woman doesn't deserve the crown, but also that she doesn't know how to rule, doesn't care about the people under her, and only wants power and a good life. This is not what a ruler should want.

She didn't lose hope, on the contrary - she believed that she was able to convince him. For some reason, fate had allowed them to 'mee'" before under quite nice circumstances, certainly not to become enemies later.

"I don't want to just rule, I want to change." she replied more dispassionately than she wanted. She decided that she had to somehow shorten the distance between them, let him to known her, if they were to get along. At the same time, she would also like to get to know him better... She got up from her throne and began to slowly approach. "You've probably also heard a lot about the little girl that Tywin kept as his trophy, a memory of times gone by - that's a nice phrase I heard once. It would seem that many people should feel sorry for me: An orphan, my father died before I was born, and my mother was raped and killed by the Mountain shortly after, right after he killed my siblings." she paused for a moment to make her next words sound stronger. "Nobody was sorry. No one delivered justice. Robert actually demanded my head, the head of a several-day-old baby. He tried to kill me a few times, of course he did, he hated my father so much, he was so afraid that his blood would survive and become a threat to him one day."

She had to stop for a moment to don't let tears - that were coming to her eyes as the memories of her childhood flooded her - fall.

Robb didn't dare interrupt her. He knew her story as much as it was talked about. The maester once taught him about the last members of this house, Visenya, and Viserys and Daenerys, who managed to escape to Essos right after the war. Since Visenya was here alone, he guessed that the other two had not survived until now.

He never paid much attention to her history, he was a child, he preferred to duel with Theon, first with wooden and then with blunt swords, than to learn history. But now, hearing it straight from her... He sympathized. He could easily say that, he felt sorry for her. While he had fun running around Winterfell, when he could come to his parents at any time - even at night when he had a nightmare - and he had no worries, she never had that luxury. She was forever alone, with the specter of death hanging over her head. She lived under the roof of someone like Tywin Lannister, who - as he knew from experience - was ready to do anything to win.

If she wanted to make me feel sorry for her, she's already succeeded.

"I survived. I've lived seventeen years of something I wouldn't call life. I survived and finally managed to escape. I spent four years in completely foreign lands, and yet they were the best years of my life. You said you heard a lot of good things about me... Did you hear that I freed slaves from all over Slaver's Bay? The Breaker of Chains. No one ever did this, no one thought that they were people too and deserved a normal life. Soon, the concept of 'slavery' will become history. And they have will come back to it... The dragons. The world hadn't seen them for over a hundred years until my children were born. The Dothraki never followed any woman, they considered them too weak. They also never crossed any sea. And yet now they listen to me, they crossed the sea for me." she finished speaking as she stopped a step in front of him. "Many men have tried to kill me, but no one succeeded. If all that has happened to me isn't a sign that I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms, I don't know what else it could be. If not fate, how else to explain it?"

"Maybe. But you will rule the frozen wasteland unless we defeat the real enemy."

In his answer, he did not refer to what she said about herself, he did not want to show that he admired her for what she did for those people from across the sea. He should finally address the issue that made him decide to come here and talk to her in the first place.

"My only enemy is Cersei Lannister."

"You are wrong, Your Grace." Davos interrupted. "Death is the enemy of us all."

"Very poetic." this time it was Tyrion who joined the discussion. She didn't see any hidden meaning behind Davos' words, but she started thinking about them in a different context...

"Let him talk." she said, giving her Hand a quick glance. "Continue..." she trailed off because she didn't know the man's name.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, thank you." he cleared his throat quietly. "I don't mean any poetry..." He looked at Tyrion for a moment. "...but a real threat. The undead army is on the other side of the Wall and they will attack us soon. An army that knows no fatigue and does not leave bodies on the battlefield. This is our enemy. If we don't deal with him... Does it really matter whose corpse sits on the Iron Throne?"

"If it doesn't matter, you might as well pledge your allegiance here and now. We all together will deal with Cersei, and then we'll go fight... Whatever you were talking about."

Honestly, she wished Tyrion wouldn't interfere right now. She didn't have anything better to say herself, and she tried to appreciate that Tyrion wanted to win another house's support for her, but she felt it didn't make sense today. They can argue all they want, but no one will trust a stranger enough to put the fate of their people in his hands.

"Enough." she said to him quietly. She hoped that would be enough to stop him from interfering with the bend-the-knee issue again. "We are strangers. I understand that you will not give your lands to me, and you should understand that I will not dedicate my army to your cause, to fight against some... Army of the undead?"

She wasn't entirely skeptical about Ser Davos' words, considering one of her dreams, but she couldn't blindly believe in them... She wasn't alone, she was dragging thousands of people along with her, she had to think about their safety, not just her own. Additionally, she has just begun the final preparations for the war against Cersei, the ships have already sailed, the fighting will begin soon. If she withdraws from the campaign as soon as it begins, what will her allies think of her? Without her in the south, Cersei will not be afraid to send an army to take over more and more lands and oppress more and more people.

"I know it sounds like some store made to scare naughty children." Robb spoke up. "But if it weren't for that, I wouldn't be here. My own sister advised me against it, and yet here I am. Maybe it's stupidity, maybe it's desperation, but coming here, I trusted you with my life, because - like you - I want to save people who have already suffered enough."

She was about to say something, she even knew what, but then they heard hurried footsteps coming from behind the corridor. It was Varys, he walked past their guests and went straight to Visenya, leaned down and whispered a few words:

"Your Grace, we need to talk urgently, it's very important."

She nodded gently and he moved away from her. She had to politely end this conversation somehow. Maybe it's even good, she will have time to think about how to approach it, now that she has the whole picture of the situation.

"Forgive me, you've come such a long way, you must be very tired. We will prepare you chambers, Missandei will show you. We'll have a bath run for you and bring you supper. If you need anything, speak to her." she forced a smile and was about to turn to Varys, but she noticed the distrustful face especially on Robb's face. Yeah... I should have understood trauma better. "I swear to my mother's memory that nothing will happen to you under my roof. You can walk around the entire island, after all, you are not my prisoners."

"You took our boat." he noticed, stopping her for a moment more.

"You'll get it back when we finish our meeting."

That was the last thing she said. She stood with her back to them and waited for them to leave so she could talk about this 'important matter'.

Robb and Davos had no other choice, so they left the chamber, and Missandei left with them. Of course he was afraid to stay in someone's home, especially since he didn't have any weapons. On the one hand, the memories of the Red Wedding came back to him as soon as he saw Visenya, but on the other hand, he felt an inexplicable peace in her presence.

She carried herself in a way that exuded confidence and strength, her outfit was in the same style as Missandei's, only more ornate. A silver chain ran across her chest, with a long piece of fabric with embroidered scales attached to it at the back. Even her hairstyle was unique, lots of braids tied up into a bun, with only a few strands left loose. When you looked at her, you truly saw a Queen, a strong personality, who knew what she wanted and how to get it.

However, after talking to her... To a large extent, it was all just appearances. She was not a cold-blooded murderer who would do anything to achieve her goal. Her difficult past certainly shaped most of her character. Therefore, he was prone to believe that she really wanted to change the world for the better.

They were practically the same age, and although life has verified many of their dreams, they still have ideals in them.

It was even good that they were interrupted. He will be able to prepare better for his next conversation with her, now that he knows how he should approach her.

Behind closed doors, however, the conversation finally began.

"We already know where the Iron Fleet is..." Varys began. It was clear from the beginning that he had bad news. "Two or three ships escaped, the rest sunk or captured. Ellaria Sand and Sand Snakes, who were to leave ships at Sunspear captured or dead, Yara and Theon Greyjoy captured or dead."

For a moment she didn't know what to do. This was only the beginning, and their plan was already starting to fall apart. Conducting a war so that as few people die as possible is much more difficult and complicated than throwing all your forces at once and breaking the enemy...

Nobody said it will be easy to be good.

"If they're alive, Euron will definitely sail with them to King's Landing... Is there any chance he's not there yet?" she asked finally.

Maybe she should sacrifice them, after all, they knew what they were signing up for. But what kind of Queen will she be if she so quickly gives up on the people who decided to fight for her?

"It is possible, but Your Grace-"

"So please, write to Euron." she interrupted Varys before he could dissuade her from this idea. "Write, that if he releases all those captured, I will meet with him."

He wanted to meet the Dragon Queen, so I will give him the opportunity, but not for free.

~

-> Chapter XXXV ''Advices'' -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[reddslym]

Asoiaf facecasts (for characters I dont imagine as weird cartoon people/just the tv show actors):

Keanu Reeves as Arthur Dayne

Carel Struycken as Ilyn Payne

Ricardo Montalban as The Kindly Man

Alasdair Beckett-King as Edmure Tully

Jason Momoa as Daario (The joke here is Dany has a Type™)

Elizabeth Debicki as Cersei Lannister

Joan Cusack as Catelyn Stark

Ian Holm as Barristan Selmy

Kurt Russell as Davos Seaworth (Action Hero Man as humble diplomat is a fun juxtaposition)

[crazyfoxfur16]

House of the Dragon Mood Boards #40

Ser Davos Dayne

“The Sword of Morning”

Wielder of the Sword “Dawn” Made from a fallen star

Rider of the Black Stallion

“The Black Killer”

Author’s Note: Ser Davos Dayne is not my character and belongs to Shadow_Monarch_14 on AO3 all credit goes to them. Please enjoy and feel free to ask any questions. Love y’all ;)

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

The thing about Jon that a lot of people forget is that he is actually a rather well known figure all around Westeros. I don’t think it’s incorrect to say that he’s Ned’s most famous kid by a large margin, and perhaps even one of the more famous teens in Westeros; especially now that he has become Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and his reputation has began to stretch to a different continent. Because of his very unusual origin - being honorable Ned Stark’s bastard son by an unknown woman - his name has been passed around in noble houses across the entire continent. He’s not some random kid from the North that no one has heard of. The majority of people may not have seen him, but they have at the very least heard of him.

I bring this up because people tend to act as if Jon would be automatically scoffed away by just about everyone if his true parentage ever came to light. After all, they say, why would anyone believe that some random kid from the north is a Targaryen prince? But this is not really true. Jon is not a random kid. His father was one of the most powerful men in the entire land. And not only that, but Ned’s reputation as an honorable man with no fault ensured that the scandal of begetting a bastard was known by everyone who is someone. The thing is, readers tend to ignore a very large gaping hole in the story when it comes to public perception of Jon’s parentage. People all over Westeros have been talking about Ned and his bastard, but no one can agree on the mother - this is actually important!

Most people would not have questioned Ned to his face, but they too want to know who Jon’s mother was, even if it’s just for a little bit of gossip among nobles. Jon’s parentage is a mysterious puzzle that a lot of people have tried to solve themselves. Catelyn hears one answer in Winterfell, but Davos hears another on his way to White Harbor. Edric Dayne from Dorne says a different name to Arya, while Cersei and Robert (who both live in KL) hear different things. That there’s so much variation all around Westeros is actually proof that a lot of people are talking about this one issue. And Ned’s refusal to name a woman may actually end up having unexpected consequences when someone finally mentions the name “Lyanna Stark”.

So I would like to push back on the belief that no one in Westeros would care about the R+L=J reveal or that they would immediately write Jon off. GRRM deciding to keep Jon’s mother an in universe mystery that is the topic of constant conversation will have major payoff. While I could see some being incredulous, it’s absolutely not a foregone conclusion that most people will choose not to believe it. And it’s not a foregone conclusion that this reveal will only matter to the Stark kids and no one else. Sure GRRM is playing with fantasy tropes, and Jon squarely falls under the hidden prince/king. But something that makes Jon quite different from a lot of his genre counterparts is that he’s not an unknown figure who shows up at the last minute to claim the crown. Jon is not an unknown entity. He is well known, it’s just that very few people have dared to think too deeply about the very large elephant in the room regarding his origin. But I’d imagine that if R+L=J was to be revealed, it wouldn’t be too shocking for a lot of people. It’s not so far fetched that honorable Ned Stark actually chose to protect his sister’s son.

And in regards to GRRM playing with fantasy tropes, Young Griff always comes up in conversation as Jon’s foil. People say that he will be the one to be believed because he looks the part of a Targaryen, whereas a random kid from the North won’t be believed because of his brown hair and grey eyes. Jon doesn’t look like some random unrecognizable Northman. He very specifically looks like a Stark! And anyway, is Jon’s story - that Ned took him in after his sister died and raised him as his own under the protective banner of House Stark - any less believable than Young Griff’s - that Varys had the foresight to save him and whisk him off to Essos before the Mountain bashed his head in? Until now, people have never heard of Young Griff so they’ve never had the opportunity to ruminate over and gossip about his origin story. But they know Jon. And they know about Rhaegar and Lyanna. And Jon looking so very undeniably like a Stark (like Lyanna Stark!) could perhaps work in his favor.

[novaursa]

I have a request! Reader is the younger sister of Daenerys! When Jon first visits Dragonstone, he mildly admires her from afar as she is her sister’s right hand advisor. But Davos warns him of the treachery and terror people tell about her. It can be a flashback, but I was thinking about instead of the Khalasar kidnapping Dany, they instead kidnapped her sister. She was the one to burn all of the Khalasar and gained the massive army for her and her sister. However rumors spread as Davos mentions her as The One who Brings Death. Jon however can’t really comprehend and is in awe of it all. He doesn’t seem turned off by it all by nonetheless is wary about the reader’s reputation. When he’s on Dragonstone’s bridge, he meets the reader and they talk. The reader is more open than her sister, wanting to maintain peace in all between the two parties. She tells him alittle bit about her story growing up and it makes Jon emphasize with her. They bond over the few days he stays on Dragonstone and he eventually convinces her to talk to Dany about joining their alliance. reader can also be bonded either to Viserion or Rhaegal.

The Death Bringer and The Wolf

Requests are closed!

- Summary: You meet Jon on the shores of Dragonstone, and he learns how wolves and dragons are the same side of the coin.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jon Snow

- Note: The reader is Daenerys' sister and is bonded to Viserion.

- Rating: Mature 16+

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

The salty breeze of Dragonstone whips through your hair as you stand at your sister's side, eyes fixed on the men approaching from the distant shore. Jon Snow—the King in the North—walks with purpose, his face hardened like the Northern winter. His loyal advisor, Ser Davos Seaworth, follows close behind, ever watchful.

You sense Jon's gaze drift toward you. You’ve felt eyes on you before, countless times, but his feels different—curious, not hostile. As Daenerys speaks with Tyrion, you notice his eyes linger on you, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. There's admiration there, hidden beneath the caution. He knows what you are to your sister: her most trusted, her shadow, her sword. A part of him seems drawn to that, though he hides it well beneath his stoic expression.

Jon’s thoughts are interrupted by Davos, who murmurs low enough that only he can hear, "Be careful around her, my lord. They call her 'The One Who Brings Death' for a reason."

Jon glances at him, brow raised.

"They say she burned an entire khalasar to the ground after she was captured," Davos continues, voice grim. "No mercy, no hesitation. It wasn't just dragons that won Daenerys her army; it was her sister's fire. The people say she commands death like others command swords."

Jon’s eyes flick back to you. You stand tall beside your sister, regal and composed, as if the rumors have no hold on you. He tries to reconcile the idea of the calm woman before him with the tales of destruction Davos speaks of.

The air was thick with smoke that day, the smell of burning flesh heavy in your nose.

You had been bound and beaten, the khals laughing as they paraded you around like a prize. They thought they could break you, like they did with others who crossed their path. But they didn’t know you. They didn’t know the fire that lived within your blood.

When you finally broke free, the heat of Viserion’s presence burning in the distance, something primal surged through you. They thought they could crush you with fear and chains, but you were Targaryen—a dragon, not a lamb. You had given the signal, and Viserion’s fire rained down upon the khalasar like judgment from the gods. One by one, they fell, engulfed in flames.

You showed no mercy as they screamed, no pity as they burned. You had stood at the heart of it all, flames casting your shadow long over the dead and dying. When it was over, what remained of the khalasar bent the knee to you and your sister, not out of loyalty, but out of fear. The fear of the woman who had turned fire into her weapon, who had scorched the mightiest men of the Dothraki to ash.

The stories spread like wildfire, growing darker with each retelling. Some called you a savior; others whispered of a demon in human skin. But they all said the same thing in the end—you were The One Who Brings Death.

The flash of memory passes, and you’re brought back to the present. Jon is still watching you, though more carefully now. He’s heard the stories, you’re certain, but you don’t care. What they say doesn’t matter. Only the loyalty of your sister, the strength of your dragons, and the fire in your blood hold any weight.

Jon doesn��t seem repelled by the tales. If anything, there’s a glint of awe in his eyes. He doesn’t understand, not yet. But he will.

You move with grace as you approach him, meeting his gaze fully now. "Jon Snow," you greet, your voice soft, calm, betraying none of the fire that lies beneath. "Welcome to Dragonstone. My sister is eager to meet with you."

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you," he replies, though there’s a pause, as if he’s about to say more, but Davos clears his throat, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.

As you and Jon begin to walk toward the long stone bridge that connects the shore to Dragonstone, the sound of the crashing waves fills the silence between you. Davos lingers behind with Tyrion, giving the two of you some space, though you sense that his eyes never leave Jon’s back.

You turn to Jon, noticing the tension in his posture. "You don’t need to be so guarded," you say, your voice softer than before. "I know what they say about me, and I imagine Ser Davos has already filled your ears with those tales."

Jon’s eyes flicker toward you, a hint of uncertainty crossing his face. "He did mention a few things," he admits, his voice low, as if reluctant to offend.

You smile gently. "No doubt they paint me as some bringer of doom, a monster in human skin." You glance out at the sea, the horizon dark and endless. "But it’s not entirely true, you know. I did what I had to, for my sister... and for myself."

Jon studies you, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "It’s hard to imagine. You don’t seem like the kind of person who—" He stops, clearly unsure of how to finish the sentence without sounding harsh.

"Who burns people alive?" you offer, a dry chuckle escaping your lips. "You’re not the first to struggle with that. But I assure you, Jon, war changes people. My sister and I didn’t have the luxury of growing up in peaceful times. We were hunted from the day we were born."

Jon frowns at that, his gaze softening. "I’ve heard some of your story. I know you were forced to flee when you were young."

You nod, the memories flickering in your mind. "I was barely old enough to understand what was happening when we fled. We lost everything—our home, our family, even our names, for a while. It was just Viserys, Daenerys and me, hiding in foreign lands, never knowing who to trust, never feeling truly safe." Your eyes meet his, and you see the understanding in his expression.

"I know something of what that’s like," Jon says, his voice quieter now. "I grew up as a Stark in Winterfell, but I never really belonged there. My father was honorable, my family good to me, but... I was always an outsider, the bastard."

You watch him closely, feeling a pang of empathy. "It’s a cruel thing, being kept on the outside of your own family. I’ve spent most of my life trying to prove myself, not just for my sister’s sake, but for mine. I didn’t want to be a shadow forever."

He nods, seeming to find a shared pain in your words. "It makes you do things you never thought you’d be capable of," he murmurs.

You look ahead at the imposing figure of Dragonstone looming in the distance, its sharp edges cutting into the sky. "I didn’t want war, Jon. I wanted peace, for my sister and for her people. But every time we tried to build something, it was ripped away from us. The khalasar... that was one of the darkest moments of my life, but it won us an army. It won us power."

Jon is silent for a long moment before he speaks again. "I can see why people follow you. You and your sister."

"I don’t want them to follow me out of fear," you say softly. "But I know that’s what some of them do."

Jon turns his head slightly, his eyes searching yours. "And what do you want, then?"

The question lingers in the air, heavier than the wind. "I want peace, Jon. I want this to end without more bloodshed. I’ve seen enough fire and death for a lifetime."

His gaze softens as he watches you. "You sound different from your sister."

You smile, but it’s tinged with sadness. "Daenerys and I are alike in many ways, but we’ve had different paths. She’s always carried the burden of the throne on her shoulders. I’ve always been the one fighting in the shadows, making sure she gets there."

"Maybe it’s time for her to listen to you," Jon suggests quietly.

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "You think she’ll listen?"

"I think she trusts you. And if you talk to her about working with us, about standing together against the real threat... she might listen."

You study him for a moment. Jon Snow, the King in the North, is nothing like the lords and kings you’ve met before. He carries the weight of the world, much like Daenerys does, but there’s no arrogance, no hunger for power in his eyes. Only duty.

"I’ll talk to her," you say after a pause, your voice quiet but resolute. "I’ll try to make her see that this alliance could save more lives than we’ll ever know."

Jon nods, relief flashing across his face. "Thank you."

The two of you continue your walk toward the castle, a sense of quiet understanding settling between you. Over the next few days, you find yourself drawn to Jon more and more. There’s something calming about him, something honest. He’s not like the others you’ve had to manipulate, to outmaneuver in order to protect your sister. With Jon, you can speak freely, and that’s a rare thing in your world.

In those few days, Jon’s presence becomes almost familiar. You exchange stories of your pasts, the scars you both carry, and the hope that something better is possible. It’s a fragile hope, but it’s there, flickering between the two of you like a small flame in the dark.

And when the time comes, you do talk to Daenerys. You speak of the threat in the North, the army of the dead, and the value of Jon Snow as an ally. You remind her that the war for the throne means nothing if they all die in the coming winter.

It takes time, but eventually, Daenerys agrees. You can see the spark of something in her eyes, something that wasn’t there before, and you know Jon’s presence has shifted something within her as well.

As you stand beside your sister, watching Jon prepare to leave, you feel a strange sense of both relief and uncertainty. He has changed something in you, too—made you see the world a little differently. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not sure what that means.

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 8 - Dance of the Dragon

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

Music

~~~

The evening of Princess Helaena’s name day is held in the rose garden, and you think it must be the most charming party you have ever seen. 

Tables and chairs are hidden among the flowers, music is floating up from the terrace and there are so many braziers that it's almost impossible to feel the cool night air. 

“Let us find Helaena,” Maris says, grabbing your hand to pull you through the crowds. 

You want to stop her, to arrive on measured steps, so you are not quite so breathless when you’re standing in front of Aemond, but it quickly becomes too late for that. 

“Your grace,” you pant, feeling as though your corset has been tightened beyond your ability to breathe as you dip into a curtsy, while Maris clings to Helaena, wishing her the happiest of name days. 

“I trust you are feeling much better?” he whispers, and you know, without looking, that there is a wicked smile teasing at his lips.   

“Quite,” you say, finding his expression to be exactly as you had imagined it, and you don’t give him a reaction.  

You move to greet Helaena, offering another curtsy before leaving all three of them behind in favour of wine. 

Dandelion wine to be precise and, though the flavour is more bitter than you’d expected, it's still strangely addictive. 

Turning to see if perhaps Cassandra or Maris would like to try it for themselves, your eyes meet again with Aemond, who is reaching for his own cup.  

“Did you read The Loves of Queen Nymeria?” he asks, taking a sip. 

You scoff, “it has only been one night.” 

“When a book is enjoyable, I find I cannot stop turning its pages until I’ve had them all, no matter the time of day.” 

You were the same, sometimes there were not enough candles in your room for the hours needed to devour every word, but you don’t tell him that. 

You look at Maris, who has talked nonstop of Aemond since tea and would likely relish the opportunity for this conversation. Though, you must admit, there was hardly a chance she would ever pick up a book unless absolutely necessary. 

Still, you think she will be able to make something up on the spot and be completely delightful when you tell him, “I think perhaps Maris has borrowed it from my room.” 

Aemond frowns, “who’s Maris?” 

“My sister...” you say, shaking your head in disbelief and knowing fine well that he has spoken to her before. “She is over there with yours,” you gesture your cup in her direction, “so perhaps you would like to discuss the book with her ?” 

“But ,” he inches into your path as though he can tell you’re about to slink away, “you have already read it, have you not?” 

His question is so direct that you cannot possibly lie even if that's exactly what you want to do. Yet that does not stop you from hesitating, feeling your cheeks heat, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention under his scrutiny. “ Yes. I have read it, are you satisfied?” 

From the smile that spreads across his cheeks you can see he is, in fact, satisfied. “What did you think?” 

You thought it exciting, enchanting and completely captivating. You couldn’t put it down and wanted desperately to be Nymeria with her 10,000 ships and the dashing Ser Davos Dayne at her side. You’d loved every last word and had re read some of your favourite chapters last night when you were supposed to be forgetting about Aemond.  

“You know for someone who claims to love books so much, you were certainly very cavalier when you threw one in the pond,” you say, keeping your thoughts on Nymeria to yourself. 

Aemond laughs, taking another sip of his wine, “I suppose I was quite pleased to see you also thought it one of the most terrible things you’d ever read.” 

Gods, you remember the way he had smiled when you’d told him precisely how much you disliked it. Perhaps it would have been safer to discuss Nymeria after all.  

“Well... just because you do not like something doesn’t mean it is worthless,” you scold, trying carefully to sidestep around him but he counters your movements, so every step only seems to bring you closer. 

“True,” he positions himself so you cannot escape, “ but I did not throw it away because I found it worthless...” 

“His grace should feel no great need to discard the things I do not like." 

“Then tell me of the things you do like.” He says this without any teasing smile, or any agenda at all, except to know you. 

Suddenly you feel as though your mind is the book he is trying desperately to read. Yet you don’t want his fingers running through your pages and it's not just because he saw you on the beach. It's not even because he has somehow convinced the men of court to ignore your very existence.  

You’re simply not a book to be read by a Targaryen prince, that is Maris’ dream. Your pages have always been meant for a man with no name, a man with no great consequence to the realm and Aemond was the exact opposite of that. 

Just as you’re about to tell him, that he has no need to know any more of your interests, you are interrupted by Helaena and grateful for it. 

“Brother,” she calls, and you both turn to look at her.  

“I would like you to ask my friends to dance,” she says, her cheeks so pink and her smile so hopeful.  

“You know I do not dance,” Aemond replies and, though you cannot see his face, you can see the way he tenses and wonder if he is thinking exactly the same thing you are. 

‘If you want to dance.... you need only ask.’ Words he had spoken only yesterday.  

You think perhaps he was trying to trick you after all, yet, deep down, you know that isn’t true. Aemond had no wish to humiliate you, he had said so himself. But why was it so much easier to believe that his motives were underhand, instead of something far more agreeable? 

“It will be a name day present for your favourite sister,” Helaena insists, sharing a conspicuous look with Maris who seems the more likely conspirator behind this whole suggestion. 

Rolling his shoulders with a sigh, Aemond stalks towards them, and you can only imagine the look on his face. The way his brow might raise, the way his eye might darken as it narrows. “I have already given you a name day present.”  

Helaena and Maris look so desperately disappointed at his rejection that you cannot help but speak for them and their scheme. 

“Surely his grace can afford two presents for a favourite sister?”  

He turns to look at you, surprised, “you wish for me to dance, Lady Baratheon?” 

All eyes are waiting for your answer, and you know precisely how to tempt him to the floor. “Well... If you cannot dance, I say I shall like to see it.” 

He laughs softly, the sound barely leaving his chest, “I did not say I could not dance; I merely choose not to.” 

“Hm,” you raise your brow, "such words are usually spoken by those with two left feet, are they not?” 

"Are you challenging me?”  

“I would never ask his grace to do anything which he did not already want to do.” 

Aemond sighs, but his eye is playful when he casts his attention not to Maris, but to Belis, who is standing quietly to the side. He slides his cup to a servant and, with one hand remaining behind his back, extends the other as a dark invitation.  

“Lady Trant,” he says, and her cheeks turn so red you can almost feel the heat of them from where you are standing.  

Suddenly you hate the way she laughs as much as you hate the way she almost falls over her own foot to take his hand.  

You half expect him to say something cruel, to tease her in some way like he always teases you, but he doesn’t.  

He folds Belis’ arm into his, and leads her down the stone steps, to the centre of the dancefloor like a perfect gentleman and you hate that most of all. 

You move to lean against the terrace wall to get a better view, and you can’t help but notice the way people are reacting to his presence on the floor. The gasps, the whispers, the sheer surprise.  

One thing is clear, Aemond truly doesn’t dance. Not just this summer but every summer, every dance.  

Is he about to humiliate himself?  

You’re not sure you want to find out. So, when the music starts, you look anywhere but at the prince, your heart pounding with some strange feeling that wasn’t there before.  

You’re taking a large gulp of wine when Cassandra makes her way to your side and whispers, “you should not speak to Prince Aemond like that.”  

You hadn’t even realised she was watching, “like what ?”  

“With that tone ,” she scolds, “it is far too familiar, and he will think you are terribly rude.” 

You meet Cassandra’s concerned expression with the stark realisation that this is only the second time, she, or any of your family, have ever seen you interact with the prince. 

“I didn’t realise I had a tone,” you say, troubled to think that any familiarity between yourself and Aemond could be so glaringly obvious. 

Cassandra’s sighs, “can you please try to be better behaved? For Maris’ sake if nothing else?” 

All you’d been trying to do since you got here was to help Maris, not that you could say that. So, you say nothing, and Belis’ dance with the prince is over before you’ve watched a single step.  

You’re a little disappointed to think he might have stumbled without you witnessing it, but she is looking so dizzy with happiness that it could not have been as bad as you’d suspected.   

Then again, of course it wasn’t. This was Aemond, he did nothing if he did not do it better than anyone else.  

Still, you find the idea of him being a great dancer even worse than when he beat you at Cyvasse. At least you knew he was well practiced at that.  

One day, there would be something in which you could best  him, and you would relish in it. Of course, you would have to know him more to find out what his weakness was, and that was a very dangerous game. 

As Aemond and Belis return up the stone steps, Cassandra leaves to dance with Lord Karstark, so it is Maris who is offered the next dance with the dragon, and you’re pleased for her. 

She seems to float on air as he guides her to the centre of the floor, her honey silk dress looking regal next to the black and gold of his leather.  You hadn’t really noticed just how much she’d started to dress in only gold and yellow, until right now, but unlike yourself, it suited her well.  

Perhaps that was why she’d practically forced you to wear your sapphire gown, though you didn’t mind. The fabric of your dress seemed as though it was made for an evening beneath the stars, catching all the sparkles as though it was crafted from the night sky instead of silk.  

When the music begins, it is a jolty tune, which you know is not Maris’ favourite. Her legs are long and a little clumsy for such quick movements, but Aemond is tall enough to support her and prevent her from looking anything but delighted.  

He, however, makes two missteps and you enjoy them well, thinking him not quite as perfect as he would have you believe. Though he’s still perfect enough to be holding the captive audience of almost everyone outside the dance floor. 

When he returns Maris back to Helaena’s side, Cassandra is still in the arms of Lord Karstark and you’re surprised when that leather hand offers to you, his eyebrow raised above his good eye.  

You hadn’t really thought of yourself as one of Helaena’s friends, you were just the annoying little sister who had to follow wherever Cassandra and Maris went. But Aemond doesn’t know that. 

“Perhaps his grace would like to sit this one out so he may regain his breath?” you say, wanting to dance more than anything but strangely afraid of it being with him.  

“You think I am without stamina for three ladies?” he replies and there is a quiet bubble of giggles from the others. 

“Go on,” Helaena urges and you relent, your heart starting to thud in your ears as you gently slip your hand into the soft supple leather of his. 

Like before, the music for your dance doesn’t begin until the prince has stepped into the centre of the fray and the tune is slow, steady. The steps far more intimate than you would have liked and just as intimate as Maris would have wanted.  

In this dance, he doesn’t miss a beat, his hands meeting yours at just the right height, his steps taking just the right stride. You suppose dancing is like sparring. Eye to eye, hand to hand, twist to turn.  

“After this, I will have all the girls in court hovering about me for a turn of the floor,” he muses with a grimace. 

“Do not expect any sympathy from me,” you scoff, pleased by the idea. 

“You find humour in my misery, Lady Baratheon?” 

“I believe it is recompense, your Grace.” 

“Recompense?” you both turn, switching places and, for the smallest of moments, you are just close enough for his lips to press against your ear, his words little more than a whisper, “ for what ?” 

Your heart flutters, not surprised by his question, only the manner in which he asks it. A whisper seems so unnecessarily intimate without the need for secrecy.  

You reach your hand above your head to meet with his, a shaky breath steadying your runaway heart. “I spend every dance alone, now you will spend them with a gaggle of admirers, though I’m sure most men would find that to be a pleasure rather than a punishment.” 

Aemond snorts, “you think I’m like most men?” 

“No . Most men are not princes.” That wasn’t the only reason, but you were not about to afford him a compliment.  

A smile flicks across his face before he turns you around so your back is to his chest, “you could dance with me for the remainder of the evening. That would solve both of our problems.” 

You laugh nervously, “I believe that would create an entire host of new problems.” 

You face him again, his head cocked to the side, “such as?” 

“Such as...” you hold your tongue, and he's so desperately close that you’re almost certain he can hear what you’re thinking. 

Yet you hardly know what you're thinking. 

Perhaps you think of the talk which would occur if every one of your dances was in his arms. Or maybe you imagine how much Maris would hate you for it. But mostly you think of your horror if you enjoyed every moment, like you are enjoying every moment of this dance.  

The press of his hand, the scent of his skin. The way he looks at you as though there is no one else on the floor and, maybe there isn’t.  

The other dancers have faded to swirls of movement like watercolours across the canvas of your periphery, but Aemond is all black, unmistakable .  

You reach your hand behind your back, and he meets it, the soft press of his fingers gripping yours into another turn.  

"You haven’t answered my question,” he reminds you and his words are another whisper, another secret, and he’s so terribly close.  

But you suppose that is the entire point of dances such as these. They are for lovers, to force you within a hair's breadth of propriety, to make your body yearn for something more just before you pull away and the spell is broken. 

“It hardly matters,” you conclude, realising the music had finished some time ago. 

Dipping into a lazy curtsy, you force a careless smirk upon your lips, “the hordes are already descending, and I have no interest in fighting for your honour, your grace.”  

Turning to leave, you dare not to look back at the ladies who have gathered around him. Instead, you walk up the steps, past your sisters, to somewhere you can breathe. 

When the music starts again, you try not to think of the next lady in his arms, and you don’t have to, because Aemond is suddenly standing right in front of you, and your heart is jumping out of your chest. 

“How did you escape?” you gasp, glancing over your shoulder to the dancers swirling around the floor. 

“I explained that I could not stand to dance again since my Lady Baratheon had stepped on my foot more than a dozen times.”  

“I did not!” you snap, annoyed, your cheeks burning. "Now everyone will think that is why no one asks me to dance.” 

“Not everyone,” Aemond says and, just as you’re about to find the courage to ask what he means, the queen arrives to stand by your side. 

“What are you two conspiring about?” she says, her brows raised at her son. 

Aemond’s face gives nothing away and he might be well adept at ignoring her, but you are not.  

“His grace was telling me about the crown library,” you say, thinking books are as safe a topic to discuss as any. 

“Hm,” she tilts her head thoughtfully. “I am surprised you have not taken her there yet.” 

Aemond frowns. “Am I to be tour guide to every lady who arrives at court?” 

“No,” a wry smile twitches at her lips and you can see she is considering her next words very carefully. “Only the ones who amuse you.” 

Aemond scoffs, "if the lady amuses me, it is only because she cannot dance.” 

"Really ?” Alicent laughs, "how strange. From where I was seated, it seemed as though you were quite... entranced .” 

Aemond’s cheek twitches, his breath sharp and, for once, he looks as though he does not know what to say, but you do.  

“The prince is right, your grace, we are not well suited to dance or in any regard at all. Please, excuse me,” you curtsy to them both and take your leave, not only from him but from the entire party.  

For someone who seemed intent on forcing himself into your company, he had a strange way of making you look like a complete fool at every opportunity. What was wrong with him?  

~~~

Hope you all enjoyed that chapter. 'Do I wanna know?' is my favorite song for this story so I was thrilled when I found the string version of it <3

[goodqueenaly]

Is Jon recognisable as Rhaegar’s son? Ned hid him away when Robert visited and didn’t want to take him to court. Is it just paranoia or could someone who knew Rhaegar look at Jon and figure it out?

Ned doesn’t want anyone prying into Jon’s origins. We see this in Catelyn’s memory, where her mere mention of the Ashara Dayne rumors prompts a coldly furious reaction from Ned and the immediate shutdown of any talk on Jon’s mother within Winterfell. We see this again with Ned and Robert, where Ned responds to Robert’s jovial interest about Jon’s mother with at first flat coolness and then angry refusal to provide any further details. The less said or asked about Jon, in Ned’s mind, the better.

I don’t think we as readers should fall into the trap of reader presentism, where we think every character automatically knows what we as readers know; in fact, it’s a point I’ve made before as to why more, indeed most, characters don’t know about R+L=J. Yet Jon doesn’t have to be so openly and obviously Rhaegar and Lyanna’s biological son for Ned to worry about other characters scrutinizing the backstory Ned has very carefully created for Jon. Not only did Ned almost certainly promise Lyanna at least to keep baby Jon safe, but Jon’s biological identity is a massive potential bombshell, capable of shattering personal and political relationships on a continental scale. However slim the possibility that someone starts asking difficult probing questions about Jon’s origins - and rumors about those origins definitely exist, as we see when Cersei throws the Ashara Dayne story in Ned’s face and Godric Borrell tells the fisherman’s daughter story to Davos - the possibility exists, and that’s a risk Ned doesn’t want to run. The easiest way to prevent anyone even approaching the idea that Jon might not have been biologically fathered by Ned is to refuse to address the subject at all - to maintain the simple, detail-scarce official story, and to keep Jon’s person away from anyone whose curiosity might be piqued by his presence,

[15-lizards]

9, 12, 20, 34 💚

9. Build a small council with any characters dead or alive

-Hand: Otto Hightower if I actually need to get work done. Edmure for the shits and gigs

-Grand Maester: whichever feminist king is giving Alicent her plan B and saying #imwithher in HOTD rn is it Orwyle

-Master of Coin: Larys he’s probably good at insider trading

-Master of Laws: Arthur Dayne if I wanted to run a police state. Kevan if I still wanted a police state but at least he acts normal

-Master of ships: Davos runs the business and Aurane can be the face

-Master of Whispers: Grown up Arya because we could keke about all the gossip later

-Lord Commander: Cole then realizing how much of a freak he is then Barristan then realizing how much of a covert freak he is then Duncan then realizing— eventually we get to Blackfish and he just abolishes the police

12. Who are you traveling the ravaged riverlands with?

Pod because I need someone to carry my stuff but also I need to give him intensive child therapy. And Arya because we would play fun road games

20. A theory you pray never comes true

All the theories I know are mostly crackpot but I don’t want Jon becoming a stark king in the north at the end I would literally vomit. Also Dany will live this is true :)

34. What’s something people get wrong about your favorite character?

Hmmm I hate hate hate when people act like Arya is this cold blooded sociopath assassin who hates everyone and kills without remorse etc etc she’s friends with everyone!! She gets sad over strangers!! She is merciful and struggles with the idea of becoming nobody because she’s a fugitive preteen who misses her mom and dad and siblings!!! Also ppl get things wrong ab Dany all the time it actually makes my blood boil…she is not a madwoman or incompetent ruler she’s fifteen!!! She’s a smart fifteen year old who’s carrying a dead empire on her back and makes mistakes because of it but that doesn’t mean her intentions aren’t good and she isn’t blind to the fact that she makes mistakes…Dany I will save you from ASOIAF TikTok and Reddit I promise

[greenbloods]

Like nothing human

The sound Viserys Targaryen made when that hideous iron helmet covered his face was like nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, slowed, stopped. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering … yet no drop of blood was spilled.

The Dothraki were shouting, Mirri Maz Duur wailing inside the tent like nothing human, Quaro pleading for water as he died.

Yoren had taken grown men from the dungeons as well, thieves and poachers and rapers and the like. The worst were the three he'd found in the black cells who must have scared even him, because he kept them fettered hand and foot in the back of a wagon, and vowed they'd stay in irons all the way to the Wall. One had no nose, only the hole in his face where it had been cut off, and the gross fat bald one with the pointed teeth and the weeping sores on his cheeks had eyes like nothing human.

Davos reeled off commands; one bank of oars pushed off while the other backed water, and the galley came about. Lady Marya had won clear too, and a good thing; the fire was spreading over Queen Alysanne and her foes faster than he would have believed possible. Men wreathed in green flame leapt into the water, shrieking like nothing human.

The realization chilled him. Robert had been stronger than him, to be sure. The White Bull Gerold Hightower as well, in his heyday, and Ser Arthur Dayne. Amongst the living, Greatjon Umber was stronger, Strongboar of Crakehall most likely, both Cleganes for a certainty. The Mountain's strength was like nothing human. It did not matter. With speed and skill, Jaime could beat them all. But this was a woman. A huge cow of a woman, to be sure, but even so . . . by rights, she should be the one wearing down.

The squire had pulled the knife out of his belly and was trying to stop the blood with his hands. When the Hound yanked him upright, he screamed and started to blubber like a baby. "Mercy," he wept, "please. Don't kill me. Mother have mercy." "Do I look like your bloody mother?" The Hound looked like nothing human. "You killed this one too," he told Arya. "Pricked him in his bowels, that's the end of him. He'll be a long time dying, though."

[fvckiminthecloset]

Day 9: Which is the worst of both these non-canon ships in ASOIAF?

!!! TOP TWO !!!

PREVIOUS ROUNDS:

Day One: Tie of 25.5% between Sansa and Jon & Aemond and Lucerys

Day Two: Brandon and Ned and Lyanna and Benjen at 33.3%

Day Three: Sansa and Sandor at 29%

Day Four: Catelyn and Edmure at 48.4%

Day Five: Victarion Greyjoy and Asha (Yara) Greyjoy at 30.8%

Day Six: Tie of 22.9% between Ramsay and Euron & Viserys and Khal Drogo.

Day Seven: Brynden and Tywin at 34.6%.

Day Eight: Benjen and White Walker ELIMINATED at 64.8%