#EVEN HOUSE BARATHEON IS RELATED TO THEM

[morgenlich]

r/asoiaf is great for figuring out the exact mess of the lineages of the great houses. someone over there recently asked who the "true" inheritors of the iron throne should be based on their connections to the targaryens, and no one quite reached a consensus but tarth seemed the most common and is apparently the answer in the CK AGoT mod also

[amaltheas-garden]

Jon and Sansa will bring the story of Rhaegar and Lyanna full circle:

We have very few details on the relationship between Rhaegar and Lyanna, but what we do know is Lyanna was in an unwanted betrothal to Robert at the time she disappeared with Rhaegar. Whether she went willingly or not is up to speculation. Aside from Robert, most accounts agree that Rhaegar embodied the fairy tale prince-like character (prior to the war). Lyanna wept at the beauty of his music, and was crowned his queen of love and beauty before leaving her family forever. Her story ends alone in Dorne, dying in her bed of blood, abandoned by the man she thought would save her, begging to go home.

It's easy to see then, the parallels between Lyanna's ill-fated romance and the romantic dreams of her niece, Sansa Stark. Although the two share few similarities in personality and hobbies, both became enamored by princes who hide their darker nature, and lured them away from the safety of their homeland, before going to war with their families. However, Lyanna's story ended far from the North, dying in childbirth, whereas Sansa has escaped that fate (even more interesting considering Lyanna's book storyline is a near one to one of Sansa's in the original outline). And, if we recall the very beginning of A Game of Thrones, Robert proposes to Ned that they wed Joffrey to Sansa, joining their houses as he and Lyanna might have. There is a conscious effort on Robert's part to set the past right through the relationships of their children. So right from the jump Sansa is cast as the Lyanna stand in, though she too escapes her "Baratheon" betrothal, and is on course to run straight into Rhaegar's son (as per the girl in grey theory).

So where does Jon lie in all this? If we take the girl in grey prophecy to be about Sansa, we know the two will meet sometime in the near future. Sansa has already become disillusioned of her chivalric ideals of love and knighthood (that's not to say she doesn't believe in heroes and honorable knights, just that she's far more skeptical of surface appearance), and yet, it will be her bastard brother who will embody the traits of the hero Sansa has been searching for. Rhaegar appeared as the perfect prince, yet was the one to kill Jon's mother, and Sansa, in a similar situation, is seduced by the charm and beauty of Prince Joffrey, only to be exposed to his vicious cruelty, narrowly escaping his family (even more interesting to consider Lyanna, had she survived, would not have been Queen, as Elia was still his lawful wife, and would be considered a mistress to the King as there was no chance of her escaping Rhaegar now that she carried his child, similar to Joffrey marrying Margaery, while threatening to make Sansa his mistress). Jon on the other hand is the brooding, solemn, plain-featured bastard, sharing no traditional qualities with that of the typical hero. That is to say, he's about as far from Rhaegar as you could get. And yet, it is Jon who commits himself to defending and protecting those who cannot (Sam, the wildlings, Alys Karstark) because that's who he is. No songs are sung for the men of the Nights Watch, he doesn't gain anything by protecting those others might deem weak, unworthy, or exploitable, but he does it anyway. Jon does not look nor act the part, but the strength of his moral character is what distinguishes him as the unconventional hero of the story.

I would also draw a comparison between the legend of Azor Ahai sacrificing his wife Nissa Nissa and Rhaegar's "sacrifice" of Lyanna, to bring about the third head of the dragon he thought necessary to save the world. After reading @/stormcloudrising's phenomenal metas on Sansa's connection to Nissa Nissa/the Amethyst Empress, I believe the idea of sacrifice will appear again in relation to Jon's character arc. Many in the fandom have speculated that AA/NN and the Bloodstone Emperor/Amethyst Empress are one and the same, the former featuring the sacrifice of a wife, the latter a usurpation of a sister. Sansa already occupies the (false) position as Jon's sister, while Jon has refused to usurp her rights as heir to Winterfell. However, with Jon's parentage reveal, the opportunity of a Jon/Sansa romance becomes possible, potentially elevating her to the status of love interest. And, if we're going with the NN/AE are the same theory, it would mean she occupied the role of both sister and wife. As for Rhaegar, his prophecy obsession is what led to him endangering Lyanna, placing his need for the third dragon above her own safety, ultimately killing her. Jon spends a good chunk of ADwD with Stannis, a claimant to the title of AA/the Prince that was Promised, who similarly struggles with the question of sacrificing one life to save the world, "What is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?” (ASoS) To which we already know the answer, Everything. Stannis, like Rhaegar, will fail the moment he sacrifices Shireen to fulfill his "greater purpose". Daenerys is also a claimant to the title, and we will likely see a contrast between how she and Jon approach being Rhaegar's heirs and inheritors of the prophecy. Stannis will lose everything after Shireen's death, the same as Rhaegar when he left Lyanna to die, condemning House Targaryen to death in the ensuing war. Jon will likely face a similar decision of sacrifice upon discovering he could be the subject of prophecy that consumed his father and once honorable king. And just as he refused to usurp Sansa's claim, he will reject the sacrifice of a loved one (lover perhaps?) as prerequisite to fulfilling his role as AA/TPtwP.

Jon's character always comes back to his identity as a Stark. Discovering his true parentage will undoubtedly be a source of inner conflict, culminating in his decision between Stark and Targaryen (spoiler: its Stark). It's a classic case of sins of the father, and how Jon asserts himself as an individual outside of his father's tainted legacy. Jon being the hero to Sansa and helping her return home would effectively resolve the generational conflict caused by Rhaegar's "kidnapping" of Lyanna away from the North. Rhaegar caused immense amounts of pain to the Stark family through his one act of selfish cruelty, which Jon will rectify through one of loyalty and selflessness. And narratively, Lyanna's son being the one to save her niece and return her to Winterfell would just be so chef's kiss.

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire | Benjicot Blackwood x OC!Tully — pt iv

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A/N: wow, another update four days later and ahead of schedule for once!! this chapter has been half-written and in drafts, waiting to be finished a whole month. sorry if it has some errors, i did my best to proofread and edit. i wrote most of this to someone to stay -- vancouver sleep clinic if that doesn't explain the soft moments this chapter gives, i needed the soft moments for my own selfish reasons pls enjoy <33

Synopsis: Amidst growing turmoil, Elmo Tully works to forge alliances with old rivals. As wedding planning forges ahead, storm clouds gather over Raventree Hall. Guests arrive for the betrothal feast, while Serra and Benjicot struggle to find common ground to ensure their marriage's success. Benjicot's olive branch to Serra offers some hope, despite her doubts. The families celebrate amid rising tensions and news from King’s Landing. Lord Samwell hears of the Brackens coming close to their borders and finally cracks underneath the pressure of his council.

Content Warning(s): MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 7.1k

“How did it go?” 

Kermit had met Oscar at the doors upon his return from travel the past five and a half days — he couldn’t even hide his disgust at the sight and smell of his younger brother whose return was whispered to him as he had been sifting through the contents of the library that morning. He had made sure to be notified as soon as he’d stepped foot within the gates of Raventree once word had reached him that Oscar was expected to arrive that afternoon. 

It had been a long several days since the feast, and in the aftermath of the meeting between some of the Lords of the Riverlands, Oscar had been sent on horseback with a fleet of men from House Tully to the Arryn’s — a long journey that he did not outwardly protest against, but Kermit had seen the twitch of his eye as he gave his father a nod that was curt and far too formal for their usual dynamic; the war had shifted something in the air between the father and his sons in recent days. But the journey was one of necessity, sent as a messenger to House Arryn in the Eyrie -- one that would have been quicker if not for several storms that forced them to shelter for the night, issued with the task of reminding the Lady Jeyne of her vow to Rhaenyra and of their houses’ long-standing alliance and support of one another. A task that seemed easy enough, now days later and two less horses after having hit a snag and walking into a trap that had been rigged on the forest paths. Kermit had been there when the raven flew in with updates from their journey, notifying Elmo of the accident, which had involved his brother. Oscar was safe and otherwise unharmed aside from his pride and sore. 

Oscar, with his dirt stained face, smelling of fields and horse shit, yanked off his riding gloves as he shoved past his brother; his left cheek scuffed with a scab from a fall off his horse amidst their return after a last minute detour towards House Baratheon -- a decision his brother had made in his emboldened enthusiasm.

“What did they say?” Kermit asked again, earning a huff from his brother who continued his brisk walk towards the great hall where their father waited among the councilmen. 

“That’s a promising answer,” Kermit sarcastically said, striding alongside his brother and trying to keep up with his pace as he mimicked his huff, “I take it you replied with a sort of…” he continued, giving his brother an animalistic like grunt from behind him. 

Oscar abruptly stopped outside the doors and whipped around, scowling as his brother collided with his shoulder and awkwardly stumbled to keep from falling into him, “Do you know when to shut up? Have some patience, brother.” He muttered, shoving his brother back a couple of steps and re-establishing the small bit of space between them as he turned, his brother letting out a snort.  

He shoved the doors open, Elmo sat at the head of the table and deep in conversation with Lord Rivers who had yet to return home as the feast celebrating the union of his sister and Benjicot neared, the final details being cemented for that night, much to their reluctance -- Kermit and Oscar both heeded warning at the thought of last feast’s events, but their father insisted at least on something smaller and more intimate than dozens of random elderly Lords and their snobbish sons. The invite had only been extended to select few entrusted vassals of House Tully, Elmo reassured.  

He stopped at the opposite end of the table as he entered with Kermit in tow, his father’s gaze watching him with a look of expectancy, awaiting his words as his head bowed out of respect. Lord Rivers withdrew to his seat as Oscar glanced towards him, waiting until there was silence among the table of men, his gloves clutched in his right hand at his sides, “I have news from my journeys to House Arryn and House Baratheon.” He announced. 

The last of the mutters ceased, pausing as he moved to shift his stance, suddenly panged by a wave of anxiety towards the eyes that watched him from around the room. Oscar was never an insecure, timid boy -- he was confident, well-spoken and self-assured, and had never shied away from attention. But with his age, in comparison to the much more experienced men around him, oozing wisdom that countered his own youthful inexperience, he was painfully aware that he was just a boy in their eyes; stood there in armor, like a child playing ‘knight’. He knew that they did not view him as equal to his father -- not like he expected them to. 

“Proceed, son.” Elmo stated, his voice warm and encouraging. 

Oscar again nodded slowly and took a breath before he spoke, “House Arryn has once again pledged their support in favor of Rhaenyra Targaryen as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and has pledged to support our military efforts as much as they can afford.” He spoke, his tone more confident than it had been when he arrived. 

“And that of House Baratheon?” His father asked. 

“They have declared for the usurper, Aegon.” He replied, his eyes scanning the men around the table who broke into a series of mutters. “They plan to support him and his army should the time come.” Oscar explained. “Craven cunts.” Kermit muttered from behind him, reminding Oscar that he stood only a foot away from him as they spoke. 

Elmo’s eyes darted to his brother, in response to his words, his frustration evident in his face as his brows furrowed. 

“It does not come as a surprise to me.” Samwell said, speaking up finally. “I recall their Lordship expressing his…reservations about a woman sitting on the throne when she was first declared apparent heir. I was just hoping he would come to see reason.” He said, letting out a small sigh and looking to Elmo, who gave a small nod. 

“We can only do so much to guide others to see better judgment. I’ve received ravens from House Manderly and House Celtigar who have declared for Rhaenyra at least.” Lord Tully stated, his fingers drumming against the table as he seemed to linger on the update. While not the outcome they had hoped for, Oscar had done his duty successfully in all other words. “You’ve done a good job, Oscar.” 

Oscar nodded again, his head lifting to where his father stared at him, the two men in silence. A moment passed before Elmo leaned forward in his seat, placing his elbows atop the table and glancing towards an empty chair on his right as a sort of hint to his son. “Well?” He asked. “Do you plan to sit and join us?” 

Oscar turned his head and glanced at Kermit who looked back at him, the brothers sharing a look, his mouth opening to stutter out a sentence, “I…I was hoping to change first, make myself presentable.” He softly explained to his father. 

His hand waved dismissively to the idea, “Nonsense. There’s no more pride than that of a knight in the raw.” 

He visibly hesitated, letting out a small grunt under his breath that only Kermit could hear, a choked sound that came from his throat as though he wanted to refuse and insist on at least changing out of his riding gear; the little armor he wore streaked with mud and his own blood from the gash on his cheek. There was a sound of leather squeaking as he clenched his gloves with a white knuckle grip, before he let out a breath from his nose and walked forward, his head down as he moved to take his place at his father’s side. 

“And what of me, father?” Kermit asked, his brother’s chair dragging across the ground as he sat down.  

There was a glimmer of pride in his father’s eye as he watched Oscar scoot his chair forward, making himself as comfortable as he could, though Kermit could compare him to a wooden plank; stiff as he adjusted his cloak underneath him. His father turned to look at him after flashing a smile to his brother, chin lifting as he spoke, “Oh, check on your sister, will you? I haven’t seen her yet today.” 

Kermit gave a small nod, visibly disappointed at the request. 

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She found the castle had been quiet in the days that followed the feast -- much quieter than she was used to. In the aftermath, her father and Kermit were much gentler than normal with her, careful as though they feared she would jump and run if they spoke too loudly. She felt like a child they were coddling and the whole situation was humiliating, feeling as though she was six years old again, clinging to her mother and crying because some boy was mean to her. 

In some ways, she was grateful for it however. 

They gave her more space than they had before and didn’t interrupt her as often; instead, they hung back from a distance and occasionally walked by her rooms, to glance in and make sure she was okay but would leave without saying anything. On the odd occasion she caught them staring, they would offer small smiles and nod, before carrying on. It gave her an opportunity to breathe, ground herself and reel from the events of the feast -- she could almost pretend that it hadn’t even happened and convince herself, this was not her life and was just some nightmare. 

Once she had moved past the feast and its chaos, she was faced with a new challenge. 

She watched from the treeline as Benjicot trained, too engrossed in his spar with his cousin to pay her any mind as she kept her distance; Alistair posted a few paces behind her. Her hands remained preoccupied by the small purple flowers in her hands -- violets that she had managed to find at the edges of the property, plucking them with a childish excitement. She had turned from her knelt position on the ground, summoning Alistair forward and insisting he hold them as she picked whatever his hands could hold. There had been a hint of apprehension, hesitating as he eyed her, before nodding and accepting the flowers, holding them in his left hand as she resumed her task of collecting them and rambled on about the knowledge she’d obtained over the years; familiar with herbs and plants and their medicinal use -- she had rambled on about a tea she could make with them when they returned. In the aftermath of the feast that had turned out disastrously, she found she actually enjoyed Alistair’s company and found comfort in his presence. He listened and was polite when he responded, and in the few words he offered, he provided her with wisdom. 

“Should we return to the library, my lady?” Alistair asked. She hummed inquisitively in response, eyes still transfixed on the boy Lord she was still working to figure out. “I can summon one of the kitchen workers to fix that tea for you.” He offered. 

She turned to look at him, offering a soft smile, “No, no. It’s quite alright, I can do it later. I’d like to stay out here a little while longer.” Serra replied, her gaze turning to look again towards the two young Blackwood men. “I…have something I have to do, actually.” 

“Might I be able to help somehow?” He offered. 

She shook her head, but paused, “Could you actually take these inside? I’d like to invite Lord Blackwood for a walk and then I will be in.” She explained, turning to him and once again scooping half of the flowers into his hands, her gaze down and avoiding his eyes. There was a moment of silence that passed between them before he spoke again. 

“Would you like me to summon him for you?” Alistair pressed again, her eyes finally coming up to make out the skepticism in his features, a look of concern in his eyes. 

She smiled again, “No, I…feel this is something I should do.” She replied, voice soft as she withdrew, keeping a few of the flowers for herself. 

Even through her reassurance, she could still see his concern, reluctant to nod and leave her to the task. Though he gave her a nod and passed her, walking towards the house and leaving her in the spot near the trees some feet away from where Benjicot’s cousin let out a yelp as he fell back into the dirt with a thud. Emrys was quicker to shoot up, rolling onto his side and reaching for his sword that had slipped from his hand in the tumble, just as Benjicot kicked it further from his grasp. She slowly approached, the small flowers in her hands as she stroked the petals between her thumb and forefinger, Emrys’ gaze finding her first as she neared the edge of the circle. 

Emrys looked relieved as he panted out a soft greeting and began to scramble to his feet, “My lady.” 

Benjicot turned towards where his cousin’s attention was placed, finding his betrothed standing before him and offering the smallest of smiles. The two men issued a bow, breathing heavily and flushed in the face as the heir wiped sweat from his bow, “Lady Tully.” He greeted, mouth ajar. 

“My apologies for interrupting.” She softly said, glancing between the two men. She paused, her gaze dropping briefly to the flowers in her hands, looking then to Emrys, “Hopefully he’s not been too hard on you today.” She remarked, her tone hinting a stiff attempt at teasing the Blackwood cousin. 

Emrys barked a laugh, brushing dirt from his doublet, “Hardly. I’m starting to think he’s deliberately trying to maim me.” He commented, shooting a look to his cousin who let out a quiet snort, the closest thing to a laugh that Serra had witnessed yet since her arrival. “In the event I die, he would no longer have any more competition in vying for your eye then, isn’t that right?” He flirted, smug as he leaned to shove Ben with his shoulder. 

The action hardly caused Benjicot’s feet to move beyond his right foot dragging against the dirt in a half-stumble, the two boys jokingly shoving each other and wrestling for a moment. Serra watched as Benjicot quickly slung an arm around his cousin’s neck in the scuffle, laughter ensuing as he muttered something incoherent at him that resembled a warning of ‘watch it’. “Okay, okay-- easy!” Emrys cried out, laughing and shoving him away. 

They settled down, straightening themselves out before they both looked at Serra once again, the smile she wore both shy and hinting her amusement at their antics, finding the interaction rather endearing. “I also mean to bring gifts for you both.” She said, finally stepping into the circle and approaching them. She witnessed the look the two men shared, Emrys’ interest piqued and smiling at her as she walked first to him and offered the small purple flower to him, bowing to her as he gently accepted the flower; bringing it towards his chest. 

“Thank you, Lady Tully.”

She sweetly smiled at him, before her gaze reluctantly found Benjicot’s as he watched the interaction before him, though his expression was one that she found unreadable, his lips parted and eyebrows raised. She hesitated, slow in stepping towards him and offering the last flower to him, placed in her palm and waiting for him. 

Benjicot glanced up at her face from the flower. He had never really understood women’s fixation with flowers, even as a boy, as pretty as they were -- he never viewed them as anything more than decorative things that adorned banners, armor and were a nuisance in the yards of Raventree. They were hardly a gift, but he moved to place his sword underneath his arm, pinned against his side and holding it as he reached out to carefully pluck the flower from her palm with his fingers, forcing a tight smile while holding it up briefly, “Thank you.” 

He watched as she offered a sweet, giddy smile and stepped back, her face lit up with joy as he accepted the flower, “You’re welcome.” Her hands clasped together in front of her, her eyes darting to Emrys who hardly made an attempt at concealing the wolfish grin he gave his older cousin at the sight. She looked back up at Benjicot, his own gaze lingering on his cousin and shooting him a glare of warning, “I understand you are probably busy, but I was wondering if you would care to take a walk around the grounds? Whenever you’re done here, of course.” She hurriedly spoke, her own look shooting to his cousin as if to ask if it was okay, not wanting to intrude more than she already did. 

“I think that would be lovely.” Emrys quickly replied. “We were actually just wrapping up.” 

Benjicot wanted to turn and slap him by the back of his head in that moment, eyes fixing on him again as if to question what the fuck he was doing-- 

“Are you sure?” She asked. 

However, he suppressed the urge to argue and deny her hopeful stare, sighing softly, “Of course. Let me just bring my sword back inside and we can go.” Benjicot grumbled, his annoyance boiling under the surface of his words. 

Her mouth opened to respond, but she was cut short before she could even utter a word as he turned on his heel and stalked away from her. She blinked, shrinking back once again as Emrys watched her deflate, watching after his cousin, “So moody-- I promise he isn’t always like this.” Emrys whispered, trying to make light of the situation, reaching out to touch her shoulder, “I’m sorry.” He quickly said, running after him. 

Her eyes met Kemit’s from the doorway as she watched Emrys run inside, his expression stoic and plain as she forced a polite smile before he turned and walked in the opposite direction as the two men before him. 

     · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She could still sense his anger when he returned to the yard. 

The pair were silent as they walked, her watchful gaze fixed on observing the outer parts of Raventree — tall, sturdy, and appearing just as powerful as its men. Although her feelings towards the man to her right were that of indifference, she struggled to comprehend or make sense of his own attitude towards her, as she had hardly ever done anything to him aside from existing in his presence and that, even as children, had enraged him to such a point that at times she could not deny Benjicot was nothing less than what his houses’ reputation stood for. He embodied that very idea. Loyal but brutes. He did not seem to outgrow that as adults as even now, he didn’t seem to care for her and just seemed to search for any opportunity to humiliate her. Unlike when they were children, it came in forms of snide remarks and innuendos dismissing her as nothing more than some…object to one day warm his bed, or a nuisance — if not, even worse, it felt as though he treated like some sworn enemy to the likeness of a Bracken at times. 

Even though his father could sometimes scare him back into line, it only came in brief moments before he seemed to fall back into his habits. And his father couldn’t follow them and play mediator at all hours of the day. How did they plan to enter a marriage and live under those conditions? In which he despised her and she was nothing more than some doll to take his anger out on? To one day show her some warmth, only to come back with rage and lashing out at her. 

She almost preferred his childhood antics and would have rather he’d shove her into mud and call it a day. The thought of a lifetime spent living this way felt unbearable, the realization weighing heavy on her chest, almost as though she was being both physically and figuratively crushed by the very idea as her gaze anxiously darted to the side of his face from the corner of her eye; taking in the sight of him, so nonchalant and blissfully unaware. Unfazed. Her eyes darted back straight ahead as her clasped hands released themselves, smoothing over the fabric of her dress to wipe the sweat from her fingers, hands shaking slightly as she then clenched them, her breathing deep and heavy with each sharp inhale and exhale of air; even her breath shuddered as she attempted to ground herself, trying to force air into her lungs which felt as though they, too, were being crushed— 

“You’re breathing quite loudly.” Benjicot suddenly said, having been unaware that she had managed to walk ahead of him by a few paces while in thought, her hands once again going to smooth over her bodice as she abruptly stopped. 

She was quiet in response to his statement, too frightened to turn and face him immediately, like a scared child who was fearful of getting in trouble for something they had done — scared that if she showed even the slightest hint of weakness, he would pounce like a predator does their prey. But there was no hiding the fear in her eyes as she slowly turned towards him, one hand at her stomach and gripping the fabric there as if it would somehow steady her shaking hand and hide it in plain sight from him, her eyes meeting his. Though she could only bear to hold his stare for a moment before it dropped to the chest of his doublet, sucking in a deep breath, Benjicot’s eyes narrowing with a furrow of his brows. 

“What…” he began to say, pausing and taking a step toward her, “pray tell, is the matter with you now?” He sighed as he spoke, shoulders slumping with the words and a roll of eyes. 

If she had had even the smallest bit of boldness that existed within her and coursed through her veins, his words could have enraged her — his tone, speaking to her like she was an unfortunate bastard child that burdened him by simply existing, maybe then she would have had just enough courage in her so that she might have been brave enough to shout, yell, even swing a punch at him— but she couldn’t. If she had been born a man, she may have been lucky to possess such bravery. Instead, she was frozen in place, swallowing and instead looking up towards a window of the castle that overlooked them to avoid his eyes as she felt him continue to stare at her. She realized in that very moment, realizing how trapped she truly was, that she would have rather jump from the very window she was standing underneath than be married and stuck with Benjicot the rest of her life. She heard him sigh again, though the sound felt muffled and distant — not like he was standing only half a foot away from her, the sound of her heartbeat pounding so loudly she could barely hear over it.   

“My Lady?” 

She subconsciously had stepped towards the house, her breathing still rapid as she closed her eyes, a cool breeze flowing through the court that blew a few loose strands of hair into her face and across her cheeks. She was snapped, however, from her daze by the feeling of his hand closing around her elbow, eyes shooting open and immediately moving to withdraw from his hold as she leaned away; shrinking back with her mouth open to protest, his eyes on her face — for the first time since her arrival, though, she couldn’t find any trace of disgust in his features as he scanned her appearance. His grip tightened as she tried to withdraw again, tugging against his hand but to no avail. 

“Easy— just… just wait.” He commanded, his eyes darting over his shoulder as though he was looking for someone or something and scanning their surroundings before he quickly looked back at her. His other hand mirrored his right, grabbing her other arm just above her elbow and holding her in place as the sinking feeling of panic set in, her eyes widening and gasping for air as she used her entire weight to try and force herself backwards and out of his hold. Even with all her strength, she was unsuccessful beyond more than a stumbled step forward, only bringing him closer, bringing them chest to chest, “Serra, please— stop.” 

“What are you doing?” She suddenly cried out, voice small as her arms attempted to flail free from his restraint. She looked up at him, a look she couldn’t quite place flashing across his features — hurt, disgust? She gasped inwards, leaning back. 

He suddenly released an arm, stepping back from her and scanning her face, the furrow in his brow remaining, “Do you really think I’d deliberately seek to hurt a woman?” He asked, voice quiet but not hiding his offense, though he knew it was hypocritical. He wasn’t always kind, he was aware of that. 

He hardly allowed her a moment to process his words before his hand around her second elbow loosened and he blinked rapidly a couple of times with a glance towards his feet. He looked up a moment later, his hand dropping and cautiously taking hers, the move slow as his hand covered hers and watching her face as though he was searching for any sign to stop; any further protest — her own eyes still watched in complete and utter fear, confusion on her face, “Just…trust me for a moment. Watch.” He pleaded, voice quiet and desperate as his gaze dropped briefly to her chest, still heaving with the breathless pants that left her mouth before returning to her face. 

His hand was gentle over hers as it lead hers from her side; unfolding her fist and spreading her fingers as it was outstretched towards him, only feeling a small bit of resistance as her hand was guided inwards towards his body — he caught her eyes, that looked between her hand and his face, “Easy...” He repeated, his voice softer than before. Her body was still rigid and her skepticism still evident, but even Benjicot could not blame her for being so unwilling to trust him. What reason had he given her to do so thus far? He’d been nothing short of cruel to her in their childhood and had been so selfishly engrossed in his own fury that he hadn’t even pieced it together that she was as equally innocent in this scenario as he was. It seemed to dawn on him, looking at her face, the pieces falling into place. 

He pressed her hand to his chest, the heat of her fingers felt through his clothing as he pressed it flat, her palm pressed against his sternum over his heart; the steady thrum of his heartbeat felt underneath the layers with his chest rising and falling with steady, regular breaths, “do you feel that?” He quietly asked, her gaze still flipping between her hand and his own eyes before settling there, watching him. “Feel my heart? My breath?” He asked. 

He didn’t expect much of an answer, but her gaze dropped to her hand which seemed to relax under his, which was enough of a reply, “Just feel…breathe.” He quietly instructed. “Follow my breathing, in…out...in…” he guided, giving her a few moments and watching as the tension seemed to slide from her shoulders like a piece of clothing. 

The image of her fear-stricken face was still burned into his mind as he watched her relax — the memory invoking a flurry of guilt and shame to wash over him. He knew he could be cruel at times, but he’d never intended to be the source for her terror; hells, he’d never even realized just how much his actions had affected her. Looking at her in that moment, he’d come to remember she was just as much a pawn to the games of politics as he’d been — if not, more innocent than anyone. She hadn’t wanted this anymore than he had but she didn’t have any choice in the matter, just as he hadn’t. But he was prideful and had to swallow down the urge to say anything more about it, standing there silently as his gaze scanned her face. 

He pitied her, truly pitied her. 

“Your heart is beating faster.” She quietly pointed out, her eyes looking upwards from where her hand was placed, Benjicot having not even realized he was still staring at her as he’d pondered his anger these past days. A sudden rush of heat flooded his cheeks. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something -- the urge to spit out some sarcastic quip readily on his lips, but his words were halted by the sound of Ser Eryn’s voice as he approached them. 

“My lord.” 

Benjicot stepped back immediately, almost jumping and dropping his hand from her wrist as she simultaneously withdrew her hand from his chest; both their heads whipping towards the guard, “I apologize for my intrusion…but your father has summoned you.” Ser Eryn explained, his gaze fixed explicitly on the young man. 

Benjicot found his voice finally, nodding as he swallowed, looking down at the ground beneath his feet and then glancing towards Serra, her hands at her sides as she briefly returned his glance -- they both then looked back at Ser Eryn, “Very well. Thank you.” He simply replied. 

The guard nodded, turning with a clank of his armor before striding away, but not before he shot a last look in the direction of the young woman who was still standing timidly a few inches shy of the heir, wordlessly. Benjicot waited until he was out of earshot before he looked back at her, his hands going to clasp behind his back, “We should make our way back now, my lady. Shall we?” He spoke, his voice regaining its prior confidence, head tilting to gesture her along -- she nodded, a meek gesture in reply as she tentatively took a few steps to come back up to his side as he then began to lead them back down the path that circled the estate. 

The walk back was just as quiet as the one there, both keeping their eyes straight ahead. Serra wasn’t sure she had accomplished what she had set out to do when they first left — not sure she felt she understood him better or felt they had bridged their feud; she wasn’t even sure she could say she knew him better. But she was at least reminded that he was still human, under the brutish behavior, that he did possess the ability to be gentle and kind, if that’s even what she could call it. Occasionally, her gaze would wander towards him and even though he seemed set on avoiding catching her eye again, she still took the brief opportunity to observe him as she tried to figure him out again for the hundredth time that week. She noted the lines at the corners of his eyes that crinkled when he scowled and she could assume they were prominent when he smiled, too. From this angle, as the sinking sun caught his eye, she could make out that his eyes were almost green — maybe even hazel? Regardless, in this lighting he did not appear as intimidating or even menacing as she had previously thought him to be. Nothing more than a boy, she realized. 

The main doors were opened by guards as they approached, creaking open so loudly the sound echoed throughout the halls; Benjicot walking ahead of her and letting out a puff of air as he began to approach the familiar doors where the council and his father were awaiting him, though he paused. He visibly hesitated in turning to her, the same pensive look on her face as they stared at one another a moment before he took a step toward her, “I apologize for having to cut our meeting short. I will see you at supper, yes?” He questioned, reaching out to grab her hand and bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes briefly dropped to his mouth, noting the scar above his lip before returning to his eyes and nodding. 

“Yes, of course.” 

Benjicot straightened up and nodded, letting her hand go in order to turn and make his way into the hall where Serra briefly caught a glimpse of her father sitting at the table, along with Samwell and other council members as the doors opened. Though a silence settled over them as Benjicot entered and sat down, her father and Samwell both casting looks in her direction as their quiet discussion ceased at the doors being held open. It was then that her attention was drawn to the sound of her elder brother coming down the stairs quite quickly, one hand at his sword just as she and Benjicot parted; his gaze following his friend before looking at her. Kermit appeared to slow as he approached the bottom two stairs, pausing and sharing a silent exchange with his sister, his shoulders visibly relaxing. 

“Sister.” He suddenly said, breaking the silence and nodding at her before rushing into the room behind the young Blackwood who had entered moments earlier. The doors were closed behind him, leaving her standing in the hall, more at ease than she had been the past several days. 

    · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A soft knock echoed through the room as Benjicot stood in front of the window, straightening the neck of his cloak, shoulders rolling as he assumed it was a reminder to hurry from one of the guards, “Come.” He called out, growing frustrated as the fabric would not sit right against his throat no matter how much fidgeting with it that he did. He felt as though he was being choked and deprived of air as he sucked in a sharp breath. 

He heard as the door opened and footsteps shuffled against the ground, entering the room and closing the door, “I will be down shortly.” He replied, giving the clothing one last tug and beginning to fix his sleeves, however his companion was silent. He turned, sensing that it wasn’t a guard afterall, and finding Kermit stood behind him with a look of contemplation, his eyes moving to scan his appearance. His eyebrows furrowed. They quietly stared at each other for a moment that left Benjicot almost uncomfortable. 

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Benjicot asked suddenly. 

Kermit forced a smile, “You always do, don’t worry.” He said, the attempt at a playful tone painfully forced and not unnoticed by Ben. His gaze dropped again, fixed on the Blackwood sigil across his chest, mouth opening to speak again, “I don’t want to be the overbearing brother who nags you with the same warnings your father already has, I know there is only so much I can say that has not already been said a hundred times...” He said, his voice soft and looking up to his eyes again. 

Benjicot did not attempt to interrupt him with a reply, settling on listening intently. 

“She’s a kind girl.” Kermit stated, matter of factly and more confident as he stood upright. “Kinder than most. She feels so much, so deeply, and she cares too much for her own good sometimes. But she is good…more so than anyone I have ever met. She possesses both intellect and wit, and despite the chaos of the men around her-- she remains such a gentle, good-hearted spirit who keeps us grounded. She is terrible with a needle and thread, but she knows how to soothe and mend the worst of wounds-- I used to go right to her whenever you kicked my ass when we would train as boys. And I know one day she will be equally as kind a mother as she will be a wife, just as our mother was.” He continued to speak, stepping closer to his friend who held his gaze. 

“I’d like to think we’ve always been good friends,” He said. “I even consider us to have become like brothers.” Benjicot’s expression softened, his shoulders relaxing, “I do too.” 

“Then please treat her with kindness.” He pleaded suddenly, stepping forward one last step until he was mere inches from him. “Treat her with decency and be good to her. I have never trusted anybody else with her as I do you. I know you are a good and generous man, Benjicot, and I know somewhere inside you, you still possess the kindness and warmth my sister needs. I ask…” He spoke, pausing to catch his breath. 

He reached out to place a hand on Benjicot’s shoulder, “I ask that you be a better man than your father was to you. Because otherwise she will not survive this marriage if you cannot, and I cannot bear to imagine a life without her, knowing I was the cause for my own sister’s demise. She does not deserve that.” He explained, his voice thick with emotion as Ben watched his friend nod as if to silently ask that he understood after a moment. 

He reluctantly nodded after a few seconds that felt like hours. 

They did not part immediately, staring at each other in the silent space of Ben’s chambers, the weight of his pleas lingering over them. Kermit gave a final nod whilst clapping his friend’s shoulder and sniffling once before he stepped back and folded his hands behind him, “I’ll leave you to finish getting ready, then.” He quietly said. 

Kermit was slow in retreating from the room, leaving him to his thoughts, his words heavy on his chest like the boot of his opponent in battle; the ache there deep and raw as his hand instinctively rose to massage his chest over his heart with his knuckles, as if to rub away the anxiety their conversation left him. He turned on his heel and faced the desk that was shoved against the wall, stacked with books — and there, among all the strewn papers and ink stains, sat a small purple flower against the brown leather of a history textbook he had skimmed through days prior. 

He reached out for it with the hand that had touched his chest, careful in picking up the delicate violet that had been plucked from the yards of Raventree and eyeing it under the little light that the sun cast in through his window. 

“Because otherwise she will not survive this marriage if you cannot.” 

His mouth twitched, sighing as he lifted the flower across his chest and gently tucked it into the pin of his House that rested over his left shoulder as he turned to leave towards the door. His guard stood to attention, stiff and proper as he bowed his head while he was still preoccupied by the task of adjusting the flower against the fabric as he stepped into the hall, Ser Eryn’s eyes drawn to the plant that was neatly placed among the uniform. Benjicot exhaled, cheeks ballooning with air as his eyebrows rose briefly at the guard, his head tilting in the direction of the stairs, “Shall we?” 

The young Lord Blackwood led them throughout the halls of the keep, the sun beginning to set with the end of the day as evening enveloped the riverlands in darkness; the walls lined by lit torches that provided an orange glow despite the hour. He was given the odd bow of head as he passed workers House Blackwood employed, mutters of ‘my lord’ following him as he descended the stairs to the entrance. The doors to the great hall were already opened and readily greeted him as Ser Eryn followed close behind, relieved to find that the only commotion from the room was the sound of joyous laughter and the light hum of conversation filling the hall as he entered. 

His father had spared no expense with the extravagant display, the room lined with yellow and red decorations, the finest of silverware adorning the table as guests lined both sides of the table. 

He anxiously fidgeted with the cuffs of his doublet as he approached the head of the table, where his father and Serra’s family sat, waiting for his arrival. His father’s gaze eyed him from over his chalice, taking a sip as Benjicot found his place at a seat next to Serra, snug between her and Samwell. 

“--your men should reach the borders within the hour.” Elmo said in a hushed voice, leaning towards Samwell, attempting not to bring attention to the conversation. “They should meet the camp as soon as they get there.” 

Benjicot frowned as he pulled his chair forward, “What?” 

“Nothing.” Samwell quickly replied, setting his drink down and scanning his son’s appearance. “You look well-rested.” He said. Ben sensed his struggle to utter the words, not used to extending compliments. 

“Thank you.” He quietly replied. 

He could feel his eyes linger, following his father’s eyes to the flower on his left shoulder, “You’ve added some personal touches to your uniform.”

“It’s from the yards.” He answered, reaching for the wine pitcher from the table and bringing it towards his cup, pouring himself a drink. 

In the corner of his eye, he could make out the sight of movement as Serra had turned, mid-conversation with who he soon figured out was Oscar when he turned to look over at her whilst setting down the jug. Her gaze was fixed on the flower that was tucked in as part of his pin, delicate and perfect there, her lips parting but not saying anything. 

“It’s a nice touch,” Samwell said. “I like it.”

Serra looked up at him, a blush creeping across her face as she flashed a small smile, shy and genuine as she then looked down to her lap. He tore his gaze from her and looked once again at his father who rose an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Benjicot mumbled, lifting his cup to his mouth.

masterlist | backward

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[coffeebooksrain18]

“Rhaenyra being a kinder Mother, but neglectful”

I wouldn’t say she’s “kinder” unless ofc you think 24/7 enablement is kindness lol.

Agree that she’s neglectful, everyone calls Alicent this but Rhaenyra is also another version of this.

She has three kids with Harwin knowing full well none of them will look like her, she deliberately put them in danger.

Obviously Luke’s eye shouldn’t be sliced out but she should’ve done something, even if it was a verbal reprimand, something to make it clear Luke’s actions were wrong.

It’s been 6 years and she’s still trying to gaslight Jace into believing Laenor’s his biological father.

She’s so convinced of her own delusions she expects Boros Baratheon to bend the knee by telling Luke they’re blood related, knowing full well they’re not.

Rhaenyra is a neglectful mother because she indulges her sons whilst simultaneously dismissing serious problems with their psyche.

Oh i hundred percent agree. What I meant by kinder was she is more soft spoken with her children. Though she is neglectful.

Being a neglectful parent isn't just not feeding your kids or hitting them. She is neglectful in the sense she enables her children. She makes her children believe they are untouchable. That dear Ole Mama will come to the rescue and even then they can't be in the wrong they are her sons.

Jace and Luc believe they can do as they please, that they can disrespect people. And though many don't like Daemon I truly believe he was a better parent. He may have been a hardass he may say something mean, he may ignore them. But he made his daughters learn respect and that their actions have consequences. Though we can also thank my beloved Laena for that as well.

Alicent is stricter, but there is a reason behind this. She was raised by Otto Fucking Hightower, a man I know is strict and definitely cruel to her (especially after her Mother’s death). She was raised by a man who instilled that she had to earn her way into this world. That she had to be perfect. She then brought that down to her children. But then there is the fact she fears for her children's lives so she has to make them understand they have to be perfect on paper.

But Rhaenyra didn't do this with Jace and Luc, she didn't teach her sons they had to respect their elders. I mean for God's sake Jace has said snide remarks and treated other lords like shit. Look at the house Frey scene, he acts better than them, threatens them, and even has the Lady Frey fill his wine chalice. Who raised him? Who taught him to act this way? Rhaenyra.

She makes her sons believe they are Velaryons and even if they know it isn't true they have to say they are. She literally raised her children to be liars. Not a great way to start your parenting journey.

And yeah Luc shouldn't have been harmed for what he did. But he and Jace should've been punished. They should've been reprimanded at the very least. But nope she instilled in her sons in that moment that as long as they feel insulted they can harm anyone. That they don't have to own up to their actions.

All the parents suck (besides Helaena), there's no denying that. And more people need to get that before saying a parent is wonderful and a great mom when we have endless proof they aren't good parents.

Thanks for the ask Anon!

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 13 - Issa Jorrāelagon

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

You’re not sure Aemond will be in the library so early in the day but there's a familiar face waiting by the door. 

“Lady Baratheon,” Aemond’s guard says and, though part of you is relieved, you almost turn back. 

Last night, when you’d received the invite to meet him here, you hadn’t intended to take him up on the offer. But that had been easy to say when your anger had been fresh, and your clothes were not drenched with rainwater.  

“You never told me your name, Ser,” you say, teeth chattering as the cold of the storm seeps into your bones. 

The guard looks you up and down, no doubt thinking you look more like a stray dragged in from the street than a high-born lady of house Baratheon, but he answers you just the same.  

“Ser Willis Fell, if it pleases you, My Lady,” he says, opening the door to permit your entry despite the state of your appearance.

“Thank you, Ser Willis,” you smile, and before the door shuts behind you, you’re struck by the sheer majesty of the room, and gasp, your head tilting to take it all in.  

The vaulted ceiling is so high, it's impossible to imagine how anyone could have painted the giant dragons which command its dome, and they are so striking. One black, one bronze, one silver.  

From their colouring alone you know they must be the dragons of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives. Which means one of them is Vhagar, the bronze one, ridden by Visenya and so fierce it was hard to imagine a small boy could ever dare to tame her. Then again, that boy had been Aemond, and he was nothing if not extraordinarily arrogant.  

You laugh softly at the thought, your gaze slipping down the dark oak walls to where the panels merge with the bookcases. There are so many, all so tall they need a ladder to reach their highest shelves, and stretching so far back you can’t even count the rows. 

It's hard to believe there could be so many books. But there must be thousands, and you can smell the comforting scent of musk and leather which seeps from all the bindings while the warmth of a fire crackles somewhere out of sight. 

Inching into the candlelight offered by the brass sconces which flank the first row, you hear distant footsteps quickening on the stone floor.

"I was wondering when you might arrive,” Aemond says, appearing five rows down, with a book in each hand. 

Sighing, you scrape your fingers across your forehead to push the wet tendrils of hair from your eyes. “Even your company cannot dissuade me from books."

“Then I shall carry them with me always,” he says solemnly, his hand reaching to push back a piece of hair which you have missed, and you’d be annoyed by the intrusion, if his fingers were not so deliriously warm compared to your skin.  

“I trust my lady did not take a dip in any bodies of water before she arrived?” he says, eyeing you with both intrigue and delight.  

Now you do push his hand away, “it's raining.” Though you cannot hear the downpour from within these sturdy walls, “ and... if you must know, I was trying to escape from Tyland Lannister.” 

“Hmm , ” his eyebrow raises with amusement instead of surprise, confirming a suspicion which had begun to fester in your mind as you walked in the rain.  

The letter to Maris and your conversation with Tyland Lannister could be no coincidence. They were both related to things you had complained of last night. But did Aemond really think he could rectify all his mistakes in a single morning? 

"You said something to him,” you say, wanting to be certain. 

A smile plays at his lips, “you are not pleased by his renewed interest?” 

“I was never pleased by his interest to begin with,” you scoff, annoyed that Aemond could hold so much sway over another man, “now I also think him weak and a little pathetic, which I'm sure you will find amusing.” 

He doesn’t hide his delight, “ good , now you see him as I do... but does that make me even more repugnant to my lady?” 

“No ,” you pause, narrowing your eyes, “the smug look on your face does that all by itself.” 

Aemond bites back his smile, and you begin to wring out your hair though the water has nowhere to go but the skirts of your dress.  

Still, it's better than nothing and Aemond watches you with some strange fascination, his books clutched in front of him with the long fingers on a single hand enough to support both volumes.  

“Did your sister get my letter?” he says after a time.  

“Yes ,” you glare at him, still annoyed, “and she thinks I’ve been hatching some ridiculous plot to win your favour!” 

His smug look returns, his eye so animated as he teases, “have you?”  

“Be sensible!” you say tartly, pushing past him towards the fire. 

“There was no mention of your name in my letter,” he calls from behind, as though it occurs to him that you might think he’s placed all the blame for his actions squarely on your shoulders. 

“I know,” you admit, standing close enough to the flames to feel the heat seeping into the fabric of your dress. “She was upset that we played Cyvasse,” you tilt your head to meet his eye, “though if she knew what a loathsome player you were, she would not be quite so jealous.” 

He moves closer, the gold buttons on his doublet glinting in the firelight. 

“I'd say Cyvasse should be the least of her worries... and I promise my lady will find me far less loathsome in our next game.” 

"Then I am lucky we are here to read,” you retort, deciding you will never play another game with him so long as you live, “though I wish I had not walked so long in the rain first.” 

“You could take off your clothes and let them dry by the fire?” he suggests, his eye gleaming wickedly. 

You glare at him yet again, but you don't find nearly as much embarrassment in his words as you would have done a few weeks ago. “And if your mother joins us, as she is so apt to do whenever we are in conversation? What will she think then?” you counter, brow raised. 

Aemond snorts out an unexpected laugh, bracing his ribs, “that I am finally submitting to giving her a grandchild?” 

You laugh too, but your laughter is made up entirely of nerves, “in that case, I shall be certain I allow my clothes to dry on.”  

He tuts, disapproving of your choice and you turn away, your cheeks flushed.  

“You seem to be feeling much better today,” you say as though it is an accusation, before you move towards the bookcase which is stacked with the thickest books you’ve ever seen.  

"It’s merely a bruise,” he replies but you know he's downplaying the truth, not that you say anything more. You're not a Maester or his mother, so he can do as he pleases as far as you’re concerned. 

Pulling one of the volumes from the middle of the shelf, the dust threatens a sneeze as you inspect its sturdy black cover without any understanding of the words printed on the front. 

“It’s High Valyrian,” Aemond says, standing beside you. “Do you read it?”  

You huff softly, “in Storms End we are lucky we learn to read at all, anything more would be considered a complete waste of time, especially for a girl.”  

“Udrizi Valyrio ȳdrā?” he says, the strange words rolling like silk from his tongue.  

Your eyes snap to meet his, surprised. Though you knew he must speak High Valyrian, you’d never really imagined what it would sound like or how it would elicit a tickle of warmth right into the centre of your chest. 

“What did you say?” you ask, curiosity peaking beyond any dislike you want to harbour for the one-eyed dragon.   

A slow smile inches into his cheeks, as though he relishes every drop of your undivided attention. “I asked if you spoke Valyrian and I’m surmising your answer should be ‘daor’ .”  

“Daor ,” you repeat, liking the way it feels on the tongue even if it doesn't spark the same sensation in your chest as when Aemond says it. “And how do I say ‘yes’?”  

“Kessa.”  

“Kessa ,” you slide the book back onto the shelf, repeating the words again, committing them to memory. “Kessa, Doar.” Yes, No.    

“I can teach you more if you like, issa jorrāelagon? ” he suggests, gesturing to the chaise by the fire. 

“Issa jorr... a-”  

“Jorrāelagon.” 

“What does that mean?” 

He considers you for a moment, his finger tapping on his book, “it means... my lady .” 

“Issa jorrāelagon,” you say, and his expression, though it had never been hard, still softens like ice in the sun. Leaving you to wonder how much more difficult he would be to hate, if he had two eyes looking at you with such devotion.  

You turn away, heart pounding as you force your attention back to the shelf, but all the books are the same. Thick, black, unreadable.  

“As much as I would enjoy learning a new language, what use have I with High Valyrian when you are the only one I know who speaks it?”  

“You know Helaena.” 

“Barely ,” you reach for a book on a different shelf, brushing your finger across the ribbed edge of its dark green spine, “but I’ve wanted to explore this library since I arrived in Kings Landing, and I may never get another chance.”  

Aemond leans in, and you don’t just smell the scent of the books, you smell the soap on his skin. Cedar and sage, so clean and masculine, as the heat of his words caress your ear with an unexpected whisper. 

“Skori ao issi issa ābrazȳrys , ao shall māzigon se jikagon hae ao kostilus, issa jorrāelagon .”  

You have no idea what he’s saying but you cannot ignore the tone, sensuous, commanding. As though he’s making you a promise, yet you dare not know it, and couldn’t ask even if you wanted to.  

Words seem to have fled your brain. Your breath hitching in your throat while your fingers grip tightly onto the shelf as though it is the only thing keeping you upright. But Aemond doesn’t seem to notice any of those things, and how could he? 

He does not feel that same spark of warmth which begins in your chest before flickering outwards, its progress licking through your veins until it lands in the pit of your stomach and a thousand butterflies spark into life. 

Instead, he turns back towards the fire as though nothing is amiss, when everything feels wrong .  

You're still holding your breath and the swirl of butterflies are beginning to make you feel as though you might burst at the seams. But the worst part is, though you have never found anyone more infuriating in your entire life, you seem to have forgotten all Aemond’s previous misdeeds and almost trail after him. 

In fact, the only thing stopping you, is how tightly you’re holding onto the shelf, as you watch him settle into the chaise with the company of his books, his eye sliding to meet yours as though he’s wondering why you’re still standing there.  

It’s a good question. Why aren't you moving?  

Cheeks flushing again, you kick your legs into action as you disappear into the safety of the giant stacks.  

What was wrong with you?  You wonder, squeezing your eyes shut and taking a deep breath, but you don’t really want to know the answer to that .  

So, you push the question away, thankful the library is large enough for you to avoid Aemond for the rest of the morning.  

Yet that doesn’t stop you feeling his presence in the room as you walk along the rows, trying to ignore him, and focusing all your attention on devouring as many first pages as possible.  

Some good, some terrible, some intriguing, but nothing singing to your soul in the way Queen Nymeria had from the first instance. You’re desperate to find a book you can love as much as that, but the choice is overwhelming, and it would take years to work through even the tiniest corner of the library. 

Still, you’re determined and you're not sure how much time passes, but it must be quite a while, before Aemond finds you sitting on the stone floor between the rows, with books by your side, books resting on your knee, and one in your hand. 

“Are you lost, or do you always do your reading on the floor?” he says, leaning against the shelves with his arms crossed and a small huff of laughter rolling from his chest. 

“I simply cannot decide what to read first, there’s too much choice,” you reply with some urgency, as though it might be the worst problem in the entire world, and he laughs again before stalking towards you and offering his hand.  

Sliding the book from your knee, you know you really shouldn’t accept his help, you can stand on your own. Yet you take it anyway, surprised by his strength as he pulls you to your feet. Then surprised again when he does not let go. 

He holds you securely, pulling you through the stacks and picking up books here and there, which you carry in the crook of your arm before he deposits you on his chaise, though there are plenty of other seats dotted around the fire. Seats which would not have his knee pressed with yours. 

“Read this first,” he says, and you look at the cover, realising it's the second volume to the book of songs you’d enjoyed so much. 

Already you know this is an excellent choice, and you’re annoyed to think you should have asked him to pick for you all along.  

“Have you a favourite in this one?” you say, flicking lightly through the pages and regretting your question the moment you said it. 

Aemond smiles when he steals the book back from your hands and returns it opened a third of the way through. 

“A Song of Storms,” you read out loud, meeting the teasing look in his eye before your gaze returns to the page.  

Then you recite the rest, and Aemond is a captive audience as much as the song is very beautiful. Too beautiful, and far too melancholy to be chosen by a dragon prince. 

In fact, his love of songs almost lulls you into thinking he might not be entirely repugnant after all. Yet he is. He must be.  

“What is the word for storm?” you say, deciding you would have been far safer with a book on history or science. Safer still if you were sitting on your own chair. 

“Jelmāzma.” 

“Jelmāzma,” you repeat atrociously enough to make him laugh, but you laugh too and then your stomach growls so loudly you both laugh again. 

Him out of amusement, you out of embarrassment.  

“If you must know, I was forced to abandon my breakfast this morning after your scroll arrived for Maris,” you say, ensuring he’s aware of the part he’s played in yet another humiliation. 

“How repugnant of me,” Aemond says with the twitch of another smile as he stands, his hand bracing against his rib. 

He moves to a cord by the fire, pulling it three times before a servant arrives at a door hidden in the panelling.  

You cannot hear the whispered list of instructions and pretend not to be watching his every movement. But you are watching.  

The way he saunters, so cocky. The way he looks back at you, half teasing smile, half breathtaking intensity. The way his leg stretches out as he sits down, so it just touches yours. 

Fresh nerves flutter in your stomach where the butterflies had lived, and you swallow, staring down at your book but finding you can only pretend to read.  

Luckily, it does not take very long before the food arrives and there’s tea, wine and delicate little pastries, but it's the fruit which catches your eye. So colourful and perfectly prepared into bitesize pieces.  

There was hardly any fruit at Storms End. Only apples at harvest time and blackberries in the summer.  

Your stomach threatens to growl again as you pick up a strawberry, careful not to let the juice drip onto the pages of the book before popping it in your mouth.  

Aemond reaches for a piece of fruit you've never seen before, telling you its name in High Valyrian before he throws it up and catches it in his mouth.  

Such an unbelievable show off, yet you can’t help but smile, because the only person he’s trying to impress is you, and though it makes you nervous, its intoxicating too.  

You both reach for more fruit and he tells you the High Valyrian for all the items on the tray. Cup, plate, wine and, though you know you’ll never remember them, you let him teach you anyway, melting a little with every word, until you’ve had your fill, and return your attention to the book. 

You recite another song, this one about a lark, then you find yourself asking him about the book he’s reading, then about his trips to Dorne, if he as ever seen The Wall, if he has ever sailed on one of the ships bobbing in the bay, and just about a thousand other things. 

Talk comes easy and Aemond is a natural storyteller. His stories all seem to contain so much excitement and vibrancy, and you consume them as though they are more delectable than the fruit on the tray. Barely noticing your clothes have long since dried, or the three times the maid arrives to add more logs to the fire. 

You certainly don’t have as many exciting stories as Aemond, since your entire life has been contained to Storms End. But the subject doesn’t seem to matter as much as the sharing. 

You’re telling him about the time when you were eleven, and had fallen from a tree, fracturing your arm. You still have a scar, its faded path hidden beneath the sleeve of your gown. But Aemond has your arm in his hand as though he can see it, and you’re laughing as you admit how pleased you were that the injury meant you didn’t have to practice embroidery for several months.  

He laughs too, and you imagine he’s thinking of those wonky cornflowers when Ser Willis walks in, his entrance masked by the laughter which has been echoing around the giant room all afternoon.  

"I’m sorry to disturb you, Prince Aemond,” he bows, “but there is a Ser Maurin Selmy at the door, looking for your lady.” 

Only now, under Ser Willis’ gaze, do you realise that, on this chaise made for two, you’ve crept close enough to Aemond to allow room for a third, a little fortress of books surrounding you, the fire ready for another log. 

You jump up, snatching your arm from his grasp, and feeling a little flustered at the way Ser Willis’ head is bowed, as though the scene is far too intimate for prying eyes.  

“Excuse me,” you say, hurrying towards the door with Aemond’s long legs catching your escape but not blocking it.  

Outside of the library, Ser Maurin gives you a shake of his head, his eyes filled with the concern of a man who’s known you all his life. Not a father, but close enough. 

"We’ve had all the men scouring the keep for you, my Lady,” he says, and you glance to a nearby window to see that the afternoon sun has faded towards dusk. 

When had that happened?  

How had you spent all day with Aemond?  

Past lunch, past tea, and well past the realms of propriety. 

You swallow hard, heart drumming in your chest in anticipation of your father's fury, while Ser Maurin looks to the prince. 

His old eyes are fierce with warning, but he doesn’t offer a word to his grace before turning on his heel, his arm held out to escort you home. 

“Your books,” Aemond says, handing you the three he had selected as though he had not a concern in the world for anyone's disapproval. 

“Thank you,” you say stiffly, careful not to meet his eye. 

“You will return tomorrow?” he asks, hopeful .  

Tightening your arms around the books, you hold them to your chest as though they are a shield, “these books shall keep me busy until I leave in three days time, and I shall return them then, your grace.” 

At that, you turn, taking Ser Maurin’s arm, your mind racing with a hundred different thoughts before it lands on one . 

“Please don’t tell them you found me with the prince.” 

“May I ask why?” his old stare fixes on the side of your face, and your cheeks begin to heat before you pause, remembering how upset Maris had been this morning. 

“They will get the wrong idea.”  

He gives you a pointed look, “and what is the right idea?” 

You turn to him, eyes wide, words like dust on your tongue. Honestly, you didn’t know. You could hardly even comprehend how you’d spent the entire day in Aemond’s company without feeling the need to kill him or run away. 

“Just tell them I was alone, ” you decide. 

Alone was easy to explain and even easier to believe than the alternative. But you knew the truth. That you’d spent an entire day with a dragon and enjoyed every moment.

~~~

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you're enjoying this story :)

[flowerandblood]

The Pearl and the Sapphire 

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, obsession, angst ]

[ description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Crystal EXPO was their company's most important annual event. The Targaryen family had been trading and selling precious ores and stones for decades, supplying major jewellery houses. Companies from all over the world flocked to this festival, traders like them looking for new customers and connoisseurs of exquisite jewellery looking around for outstanding makers and their creations.

That year Otto, as the head of their company's management, was to be accompanied by Aemond. Otto insisted that he should also represent the family business physically and wear a sapphire exchanger instead of the artificial eye he wore every day.

He felt that he would have made himself look ridiculous and attracted widespread attention, but his grandfather said he had to put it on and stop acting like a little baby.

He was furious and frustrated, but he managed to at least take Alys with him as his assistant. With her, he was able to vent his anger in different ways like when he fucked her so hard on the hotel bed, while strangling her at her request, that he felt like he was going to pierce her stomach.

Alys loved the environment she was surrounded by – she loved his gifts, the sapphire earrings and necklaces she wore whenever she went out somewhere with him, to his satisfaction.

She was much older than him and he knew that their relation was her feeling that she could still please a younger man – even after the first time he fucked her on the desk in his office, he had already specified to her what this acquaintance would be like.

She was to ask no questions and expect nothing from him.

This was not a relationship.

It was an exchange of mutual benefits that suited him and her too, apparently.

His grandfather pretended not to see what was going on, nor did he say anything about it to his mother.

He did, however, warn him not to be a fool and fall in love, because this woman would squeeze all the money out of him – he involuntarily burst out laughing at his words, his smile, however, did not reach his eye.

"Don't be ridiculous." He said with an amusement that elicited a grimace of embarrassment on his grandfather's face.

He felt a sense of satisfaction at the thought that it depended on his whim to decide what would happen to her, how many gifts and money she would get, whether she would feel beautiful or ugly, smart or stupid.

She was a witty and bright woman, but not as much as she thought.

She knew how to fuck well, though, and she fulfilled his every whim without a word of objection.

Her presence was comfortable for him.

As always, there were jewellers exhibiting at the Crystal EXPO – they also often had the kind of shows where models presented their jewellery, which could then be admired up close at their big stands. These shows were often very elaborate and themed, with the audience sitting in a circle around them watching.

He grew tired of these, usually boring and exaggerated, but his grandfather pressed him to go and see how their clients presented themselves and whether it was worth investing in someone new.

The Targaryen company worked most closely with the Lannisters, a company that mainly made jewellery from gold, which was their domain. Their small works of art cost crores, often reached for by big stars going on the red carpet or to some important events.

Their show was pompous and, for him, downright embarrassing – baroque overkill hurt his eye as models dressed in gold glittering gowns walked in front of him, the reflections from the columns of light falling on them making him have to turn his face away and close his eyelids once in a while.

In addition to them, the company that used the precious stones they bought from them were the Hightowers, who specialised in handling emeralds. Green was their dominant colour and, although the theme changed every year, this colour was their trademark.

After them it was time for the Baratheon family show – they were a small family business with centuries of tradition, specialising in making high-end jewellery reminiscent of the Victorian era.

Their works were a treat for connoisseurs, and although business-wise they had no interest in their family, he had to admit that the pieces by Borros Baratheon and his son were some of the most beautiful he had ever seen.

He was surprised when the lights dimmed a little, changing to a warm colour, large vases of flowers placed all around. He leaned back comfortably in his chair and watched with interest as young models of essentially portrait beauty strolled around in exceptionally finely tailored attires from different eras, wearing jewellery that matched their colours, with calm music playing in the background that made him think of medieval royal feasts.

He thought it was a very good marketing move on their part – he wasn't the only one impressed, the other guests were talking to each other about what they had seen with interest.

After a while, the music changed – it sounded like something suitable for a court dance. After a moment, a couple emerged from the entrance dressed in renaissance costumes sewn with incredible for him details.

The attire of the young dark-haired, bearded and well-built men consisted of an elaborate black tunic over which was superimposed a chain with animal head motifs.

He, however, could not take his eye off the girl who walked next to him, holding his hand.

Her gown was phenomenal, a brownish-blue, its bodice only beginning below her breasts, which were covered only by a thin white undershirt – her buff-coloured sleeves were slit and tied with ribbons, with white fabric sticking out from underneath.

He had the impression that the whole thing was made up of coloured stripes.

Around her neck hung a beautiful, delicate gold necklace of three teardrop-shaped pearls, complementing her sun-shaped earrings. Her dark hair was woven into an elegant braid, with the netting at the back of her head, characteristic of renaissance hairstyles, also interspersed with pearls.

There was something about her appearance, the way she gazed softly and warmly at the men standing before her, her barely perceptible smile, the glint in her eye, the lightness of her movement made him hold his breath.

He swallowed loudly when they suddenly began to dance – he felt as if he had been transported back in time and was in an italian renaissance mansion at a feast of one of the great princes of Florence or Milan, their movements unforced, fluid, graceful and respectful.

They made motions to the rhythm of the music moving in a circle so that everyone could see up close what they wore around their necks and hands – only then did he see that there were beautiful rings on her tiny fingers, one of which had a sapphire wrapped in a gold leaf border.

The whole time he was looking at them his throat was squeezed, his heart pounding hard for some reason.

He wasn't sure he had ever been so enamoured of anything or anyone as he was of this young girl he had just seen before him.

Unlike the other models her facial expression was not indifferent or neutral, she was smiling all the time just as was her partner.

There was something noble, at the same time proud and tender beaming from her person, something inviting, a kind of openness that by his nature was completely unknown to him.

He wondered who she was.

Was she simply a model, or perhaps a dancer hired for a show?

Despite the fact that Alys was sitting next to him, he thought hard about what to do to make her end up with him in his bed.

He imagined how sweetly she would moan beneath him, how warm her gaze and touch would be, how much reassurance and tenderness he would have to put into caressing her body to win her trust and let him devour her.

He licked his lower lip at the thought, Alys' voice leaning towards him snapping him out of his reverie.

"Beautiful costumes, don't you think?" She asked softly.

"Mmm." He muttered in reply, his eye did not leave her for a moment.

And then suddenly it happened.

At one of their turns, as they shifted position and both turned their faces sideways from each other, she looked up at him.

He was sure their gazes met for a second and a great shudder went through him.

He thought she must have seen the flash of his sapphire artificial eye and swallowed loudly at the thought.

Do it again, he thought.

Look at me again, give me assurance that this was no accident.

The music ended and there was thunderous applause all around him, even Alys showed her admiration in this way.

He didn't clap, he just looked at her intensely, playing with his fingers extended on his armrest.

The men she was dancing with kissed her hand while saying something quickly to her, and she laughed and nodded, a lively joy on her face from which he felt discomfort.

Were they together?

And suddenly it happened again.

The men were speaking to her as they went to bow before the audience, and she froze in mid-answer when she saw his gaze from afar. She turned her head away, a microexpression of embarrassment passed across her face, through which she pressed her lips together and immediately went back to continuing her answer.

He felt with shame that his thoughts were reflected in what was going on his trousers.

For all the shows that followed, he couldn't concentrate, staring blankly ahead, tense – he never looked forward to the opening banquet, finding it a tiring event that required talking to many people he hated.

This time he awaited it with eager anticipation.

When it was all over Otto told him about the shows he had enjoyed and surprisingly they appeared to have similar feelings.

"I think the Baratheons' idea was exceptionally apt and brilliantly executed. I'm sure a lot of their goods will sell out this year even before the event is over. His children did a great job at the end, you can see they are very supportive of their father every step of the way." He said with some kind of admiration, taking a sip of the coffee the waitress had brought him. He lifted his gaze at him, confused.

"What?"

Otto raised his eyebrow, clearly amused.

"That couple who danced at the end were his youngest daughter and only son. You can see right away, they resemble him, although this girl has more of her mother." He said lightly, but he was no longer listening to him, looking dully at the coffee table in front of him.

She was not a model.

She was his daughter.

Fuck.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling a squeeze in his stomach.

He couldn't just fuck Borros Baratheon's youngest daughter.

"I have to say that their collection this year has made a special impression on me. I am considering whether to speak to Borros. He turned down my generous offer a few years ago, but I know he is conflicted with his current supplier. I admit that, despite our company policy, I would like to include him in our patronage. It would greatly enhance our prestige in the eyes of other clients." He said thoughtfully, and he raised his eye at him.

He answered him before he had time to think about what was coming out of his mouth.

"I'll talk to him." He said dryly in a tone his grandfather hated. He saw his disgruntled expression and continued, wondering in the back of his mind what he was actually doing.

"Since you haven't succeeded it's worth having someone else to try. I'll just talk to him and present him with options without any pressure." He explained quickly, taking a sip of coffee between his words in an attempt to somehow alleviate the sudden dryness in his throat.

Otto pondered his words silently, looking at him suspiciously, his brow raised in indecision.

He knew he found his behaviour strange; his grandson always took after the big shots and didn't deal with the lesser customers deeming them unworthy of attention.

After a moment, however, he nodded, letting out a quiet breath as he reached for his cup.

"Fine, but you can't insult him even if he refuses outright. Borros has an impulsive temper, but even if he is not our client we must remain on good terms with him." He said, looking at him knowingly, and he nodded.

He was tense during the banquet. He tried to concentrate on what Alys was saying to him, dressed in a long, golden evening gown with a thigh-high cut-out, emphasising well her large, firm breasts which he had suckled so often, between them the sapphire necklace he had given her.

He couldn't enjoy the view, his gaze turned to the entrance all the time in suspense. He took a sip of the whisky he had ordered moments earlier to calm himself down – he nodded and answered mhm, swallowing hard when he saw her, she walked into the room with her father and brother.

He was fascinated that she as well as her brother were still dressed in their costumes from the show, walking together arm-in-arm.

He thought they were still fulfilling a marketing role for their father – there was no way they could show off his artwork better than on her long neck and fingers.

He watched as people came up to her and her family congratulating them on their success and wonderful performance, praising her dancing and her looks for sure. She looked around the room and met his gaze – she didn't look away this time.

She smiled.

So warmly, friendly, lightly, as if they had known each other for ages, as if they had seen each other for the hundredth time.

There was comfort in that smile, some promise of solace and understanding, of peace.

He felt uncomfortable and this time he looked away, taking a sip from his glass, realising how hard his heart was pounding, his erection betraying against his will what he thought of her.

He thought he should stop.

That he would hurt her.

He would use her, get bored and leave her.

That didn't stop him, after he'd fucked Alys in her hotel room, imagining her lying beneath him, from finding her on every social media possible.

He had ghost accounts there, anonymous and without a profile picture, needed sometimes for private dealings. Now he felt like a regular stalker, but he decided he didn't give a shit.

He needed to find out more about her.

He easily found her on Facebook but, not being friends with her, he could see almost nothing. Apart from being relieved to learn that she was of legal age he found out very little – frustrated, he tried on Instagram and pressed his lips together with a smirk seeing the hit.

Her account was very deliberate, consisting of photos of her figure, but usually backwards. There were also photos of her sewing and a whole host of historical gowns in which she herself posed.

He got curious and began to look through her photos reading the descriptions as well.

There she sometimes described her days, ideas or projects she was working on – it turned out that she designed and sewed costumes for producers of TV series and historical films at their request. Her father's money certainly helped her, but there was no denying that she had talent.

Her profile was satisfyingly aesthetic and thoughtful, dominated by blues, whites and pinks. As someone who read books on history and ancient kingdoms in his spare time, her interest seemed extremely intriguing to him.

Like when she danced in her beautiful costume, he had the impression that she was transporting him skilfully to a particular era.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

The next day, sitting at the hotel breakfast table, talking to Alys about the day's plan and where she could squeeze his meeting with Borros in, he spotted her standing by the coffee machine.

Now he no longer had a sapphire in his eye socket, but his usual prosthetic eye, which, if it were not for the long scar on half of his face, at first glance was no different from the real one. He felt more confident with this thought.

"I'll make myself a coffee." He said suddenly, rising, Alys furrowed her brow.

"I asked you if you wanted coffee when I made mine for myself." She said in surprise, but he sidestepped her and walked over to the table.

She didn't notice him at first.

She was leaning over an open box of various teas, part of her hair tied back with a blue ribbon, her body framed by a pretty, navy blue fitted strapless dress with small white flowers.

He wondered if she had sewn it herself.

Involuntarily, he reached for the free cup and set it under the machine. She twitched as she heard the clatter of dishes beside her and glanced up at him. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and saw the same warm smile on her face as when he had seen her at the banquet.

"Good morning." She said softly, noncommittally, looking down at her mug again, her choice was Earl Grey.

He lowered his gaze to the coffee machine, looking at it dispassionately, pressing the double espresso button. He felt a tightening in his chest at the sound of her voice, pleasant and smooth.

"Good morning." He replied dispassionately, feeling as if it was obvious from his tense face that all night he had been browsing her Instagram account, reading and looking at all her posts several times each.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that she had poured two teaspoons of sugar into her cup.

For some reason this didn't surprise him.

She looked at him and he pressed his lips together feeling as if she had caught him in the act. He thought he should say something, that watching her like that for no reason was strange to say the least, and she looked at him expectantly.

He'd been thinking about her for hours, and now that she was standing in front of him, he couldn't get anything out.

She dropped her gaze and smiled softly – he felt embarrassed at the thought that she had seen his inner struggle, that she had noticed that she had gained his interest.

He felt like a fool.

He took his cup and wanted to walk away, but her voice stopped him.

"Your sapphire eye. It's beautiful."

He looked at her in disbelief, feeling a twist in his stomach at the thought of her taking notice, of her thinking about him, his scar, the fact that he had no eye.

That he was a fucking cripple.

He wanted to see pity and sympathy in her face, something by which he could look down on her or walk away, but her face was gentle and content, her gaze warm.

She cocked her head and set her cup under an automaton, taking a few steps closer to him, his nostrils struck by her floral scent.

"Who made these for you?" She deepened her question, and he watched her alertly, coolly, wondering if he should tell her.

Did he even want to go into it.

He hadn't even told Alys about it, and she was a stranger to him.

"The Hightowers." He replied cautiously after a moment. The gaze of her bright eyes lifted to him again with curiosity, her dark lashes enveloping her irises like a fan.

She nodded and did not speak again, evidently thinking she had exhausted the subject. He stared at her with clenched lips, watching as her cup filled with water, the liquid beginning to colour into shades of tea.

She would be going in no time.

He will never speak to her again.

"The jewellery you were wearing at the show. Will it be possible to see it up close?" He asked dispassionately and she looked at him surprised. She nodded with a light, contented smile.

"Yes, of course. At our stand, they will be on display along with other works of my father and brother worn yesterday by me and my sisters." She said softly, and he blinked, wrinkling his brow.

Were the other models her sisters too?

They both picked up their mugs seeing that another person had stood down in line to make their coffee and moved aside. He looked down at her and only then was struck by the height difference between them.

She was so little.

So gentle.

It seemed to him that her skin must have been softer than velvet.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"See you later." She said lightly and he nodded almost invisibly.

She walked away towards the table where the rest of her family was already seated, and he swallowed loudly, only now feeling his throat dry up, his heart pounding like mad.

Their exchange had lasted less than three minutes and he was in a complete mess.

He returned to his table, Alys' gaze betraying that she had noticed their conversation.

"Are you being chatted up by little girls? I think she likes you." She said feigning indifference, the amusement in her voice on the edge of mockery from which he threw her a warning glance.

"What is your problem? Is menopause slowly getting to you?" He asked coolly and ironically – he didn't even have to look at her to notice how she froze.

Their age difference was the cause of her biggest complexes even though she pretended it didn't matter.

He saw how she chose her make-up to cover the wrinkles that were appearing, how she chose her dresses and outfits to make her breasts distract from her neck.

Whenever she frustrated him, whenever she crossed the line he had set for her, he showed her no mercy.

He knew she clung to him to make herself feel better, to have the satisfaction of keeping a young, rich, high-powered men with her to boast about.

She swallowed his words with difficulty, taking a bite of her sandwich, her cheeks red with rage and shame.

"I see she's carried you out of balance." She said inadvertently, and he set his cup down with a loud clack on the table, standing up, a cool displeasure mixed with a kind of disgust on his face.

"Send me my schedule to my email." He said and moved ahead without even turning around.

Stupid bitch.

Despite meeting clients and strolling around the stands with his grandfather, he kept looking around him nervously wondering if he would see her again.

Their conversation this morning had brought him out of his thoughts – he felt ashamed at the memory of not being able to get anything out of him, silent like a complete idiot.

When they reached their stand he was tense. He spotted her immediately – she was discussing something with some older woman showing her one of the rich ruby necklaces.

He thought he could reward her for how good and gentle she was, for the way she affected him, that when he looked at her he felt a tickling in his fingertips.

He thought he would love to visit her in her room and kneel between her thighs, see if she tasted there as sweet as she smiled.

He would drive her crazy just as she did him.

He didn't understand what was happening to him.

Why this desperation, this rush.

He stood with his hands folded behind his back looking at the showcases of rich, almost regal jewellery created with such detail that he had to consider them little works of art.

He glanced at her nervously, hearing her brother with whom she had danced the day before mention her and say something to her quickly. She answered him something and he nodded – he froze when he saw that she had moved towards him, the warmth and contentment on her face.

"Come with me." She said softly as she walked past him. His legs spontaneously moved behind her.

They entered a dark small room in the middle of which stood a large illuminated table, on which lay her pearl necklace, earrings, apart form that tiaras, rings and a few other things decorated with sapphires.

She prepared a whole display for him.

"I heard that you wanted to talk to my father. He sent me away to discuss the matter with you." She said with surprising lightness as she walked around the table, looking at its contents thoughtfully.

He looked at her from a distance disbelieving what he had heard.

Was he supposed to set possible business terms with her?

The girl looked at him apparently anticipating his answer, but seeing his reaction she laughed heartily.

"Believe me, you'd rather talk to me than my father." She said amused.

His gaze escaped to the table and for a moment he wondered if they would be very audible if he sat her on it, slipped her panties off and simply fucked her.

Would he have to press his mouth against her full, pink lips to silence her mewls as he stretched her tight, hot walls with his swollen cock again and again.

He grunted, wondering what was happening to him, how he could think about such things right now.

"We'll talk on my terms." He said cooler than he wanted it to sound. He lifted a look of tension to her and met her uncertain, surprised gaze.

She waited to see what he would say.

"Tonight at 7 p.m. You, me, wine and a hotel restaurant."

_____

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[naluwalker]

Brain bugs, brain bugs, someone get them out of my head

So, I have no idea about Game of Thrones, I have no idea about House of the Dragon, and even less about A Song of Ice and Fire, but I desperately need a Fairy Tail reincarnating in Westeros fanfiction.

Which is a very silly thing, because Fairy Tail is everything that George RR Martin's works are not, and by that I mean the power of the script and of friendship in all its splendor.

Make no mistake, I love Fairy Tail and everything related to it, but even I have to admit that Fairy Tail and A Song of Ice and Fire are complete opposites. My Fairy Tail babies would give them something if they had to spend too much time in Westeros and that's something we can all agree on.

But all that aside, I'd really like to see something like that, and since no one has done it, I'll write down the general idea and quickly forget about it to move on.

So, from what I understand a lot of the shit that happens in Game of Thrones originates from everything that happened in House of the Dragon, and I'm really indifferent to Rhaenyra, and I don't give a damn about Alicent, Viserys and Daemon, for that matter. what they will be demolished by my brain bugs and cast aside. When the Dance of Dragons happened and the entire war almost took out the entire family, ruining many lives in the process, so that in the end Rhaenyra's son who took the throne was basically left with the worst part: half the family dead, a stupidly uncomfortable throne, equally stupid children, dragons finally becoming extinct, and a pitch-black future for the rest of the nation. It's screwed, but everything in Westeros is screwed, so to fix it my babies will arrive to spread love and affection until everyone vomits rainbows out of their asses.

Although it's not that I don't feel sorry for Rhaenyra and also for Rhaenys, because what happened to them was screwed, but they will be sacrifices for this, and by the time the little tyrant king that I will put up takes the throne, all the girls of the seven kingdoms will be empowered, just wait.

Suppose the gods of Planetos saw the future shit crashing into the fan and said "Shit, we're all screwed," so they decided to bring in the purest, noblest, most destructive souls in the entire cosmos to fix it for them, and they had It had to be early, so that the disasters to come could be corrected.

So here we go, and with shipper glasses, to spread the crumbs that Mashima denies us:

Natsu Dragneel dies at an advanced age without remorse or sorrow, he married the love of his life, an incredible woman, he had children, he had grandchildren and lived to meet his great-grandchildren, he belonged to an incredible guild and has even more incredible friends and companions. He died a satisfied man... and then he wakes up again to a pretty fucked up world, but hopefully he's not alone.

Nataerys Targaryen is born with great vigor and even greater lung strength, his newborn cries pierce the ears of everyone in a radius of an entire palace and his movements are strong even when he is barely minutes old, he is everything a father could wish. Thus, on a hot summer day in the year 82 AD, the son Aemon Targaryen and his wife Jocelyn Baratheon are born.

Although luckily for Natsu, and for Westeros itself, he is not the heir to his grandfather's throne, as most might think, no. That dubious honor belongs to his five years older brother, Zaeferon.

Zeref Dragneel, after causing a war and attempting an invasion all for the sake of destroying space-time and finally dying, was unexpectedly able to partially fulfill his wish (the most important part, in fact) thanks to the power of love and most impressive woman he knows. But it seems that whatever god cursed him still wanted to continue chewing him like the cosmic toy that he is and let him be reincarnated in a shitty world, where he has become the heir to the throne of an even worse country, and a family to boot where they marry relatives as close as sibligs, and my god, he has an older sister.

But not everything is as bad as it seems, he recognizes the face of one of his aunts and for a while, he and Lucy use their time to keep each other company, read and research about this lost Valyrian magic and comfort each other so that if all else fails and in the end they are the only ones here, then they can marry each other and live the rest of their days among books in peace.

Luckily, that only lasts until on a day so hot the rocks melt, Natsu arrives into this world making a scandal that stirs up the entire Red Keep and they are able to completely ditch the backup plan when Zaeferon again recognizes a face among them his cousins.

Moving forward with family introductions, Lucy Heartfilia is born three years after Zeref as Luciaenya Targaryen as the last and youngest of the daughters of King Jaehaerys Targaryen and his sister-wife Alysanne, and the younger twin sister of Gael Targaryen. Lucy attempts to complete the first rites of a baby's life at top speed and spends the next two years of her life with her chubby little arm wrapped around Zaeferon's, swearing that she'd rather marry him than any of her other siblings or nephews. Therefore, the noisy arrival of her husband from another life at the palace is the breath of fresh air she needs to relax and refresh her brain.

With this in mind, her next steps are how to manipulate her parents to allow her to marry her nephew two years younger, and how to get her beautiful and sweet Gael a husband who will treasure her, care for her and protect her, and most importantly , to get her out of this den of vipers that is her new home. Later she will think about how to help Zaeferon accumulate power to put his ass on that stupid throne and take over the place, with the future goal of empowering all the women in the country. Never let it be said that Zeref does not respect the opposite gender.

The last reborn within the royal family also turned out to be the person Zeref wanted to see the most, luckily for him.

Mavis Vermillion, passing away peacefully after helping the love of her life fulfill their mutual wish to finally rest in peace, and with hopes placed on her children to protect the guild, is reborn as the daughter of two siblings, Baelon and Alyssa Targaryen and being the older twin sister of Aegon Targaryen. However, as in another time, Princess Alyssa died six months after a difficult birth and her twin Aegon died before his first year, so Maevys Targaryen became the beloved little princess of her father Baelon and his sons Viserys and Daemon Targaryen.

After the initial panic of discovering that she could be forced to marry any of her older brothers, Maevys joined Luciaenya to help her in her family manipulation plans and somehow get her sometimes not very well-liked grandfather to allow her to marry his heir, and Maevys is nothing if not smart, so she'll pull it off somehow. This time she will walk down the aisle with Zeref, whether the gods want it or not.

With the mere arrival of the four to the royal family things are already changing, the seven kingdoms will shake when Lucy and Mavis finally put Zeref's lazy ass on the Iron Throne.

Other reincarnates include Gaery Stark, grandson of Alaric Stark and current lord of Winterfell known for his Skinchanger ability; his wife Julianne Tully, a half-Dornish whose maternal grandmother belonged to the Orphans of the Greenblood; Erza Connington, the first female knight in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, whose mother is the first female Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and daughter of Aerea Targaryen, Irene Connington; Gerard Arryn, stepson of Daella Targaryen and older brother of Aemma Arryn; Wendeline Royce, a young but prodigious healer who calls herself a doctor, and is one of Maevys Targaryen's ladies-in-waiting; Garrett Umber and his wife Levina Reed, who are in the service of Gaery Stark, of whom Garrett is a cousin on his mother's side; Laxion Lannister, whose grandfather Marrek Lannister married Vaella Targaryen, younger sister of Jaehaerys Targaryen, who is always accompanied by Fredegar Westerling, Bilrentheus Banefort and Everwood Serrett; and Laxion's wife, Maenora Velaryon, daughter of Victor Velaryon and Marybel Massey, who is the older sister of Saelora, Elaerion, Laenyra and Vaenyra Velaryon, who are equally reincarnated.

With this in mind, Fairy Tail has been given enough political power to destroy a continent and can only pray that there is some left after Zeref Dragneel is named king.

[2maegor2cruel]

i've spent the last year getting my degree in genderbent theon studies so lemme say some shit real quick. i'll probably make a seperate post about The Themes, but this is about the logistics, babeyyy 🫶

"thea" vs. asha: pick your hostage

from the get-go, whether it is theon ("thea") or asha who is taken hostage, the intent would be to 1) shore up the power of the loyal regions in mainland westeros, and 2) "neuter "the iron islands. a northern or riverlands match is the best option, as both lack any significant fleet (which is bizarre in and of itself, but that's what grrm went with), balancing out the reach's naval superiority with the redwyne fleet.

in canon, we don't get any in-depth explorations of how women experience the hostage system. we know of dorna swyft, who was given to house lannister as a hostage until house swyft could pay off its debts. dorna would later marry kevan lannister, which tyrion describes as ser harys swyft's "greatest accomplishment". tyrion is naturally biased, but a relatively minor vassal getting to marry into the ruling house IS a serious step up. however, this is only one case, with it's own unique circumstances.

which brings us to my original question: would asha or "thea" be taken? asha is the obvious choice in a two-greyjoy-daughters scenario, as she's the legal heir, but asha is also a lot less malleable. she's around 13 by the end of balon's rebellion, and though women's opinions or identity wouldn't be given much weight or consideration in this context, the intent of a marriage pact would be to build a working alliance and mend rifts between regions. that's a lot more difficult when the conquering party doesn't have a mostly blank slate to work with.

also, theon was balon's last son and legal heir, but even he was essentially written off as dead in canon. i imagine a daughter would be regarded as similar to a salt wife, taken from her family by conquest due to her male relatives "weakness"/inability to protect her. it would be too much for balon's ego and sense of ironborn masculinity to bear, so i don't doubt he would consider her "as good as dead" as well, even if the conquering party (robert baratheon & co) couldn't have anticipated this.

most importantly, as we see AFFC, "the laws of the green lands" do not count for much on the iron islands. so let's get into it.

to start, the greyjoys themselves are relatively new major lords, having ruled for only 300 years (compared to the starks' alleged thousands of years of kingship). and, as we can intuit from the kingsmoot, the greyjoys do not command unquestioning loyalty from the ironborn. dunstan drumm, gylbert farwynd, and erik ironmaker all put forth their names at the kingsmoot, and some receive a levels of support that is surprising to the greyjoys in attendance, particularly aeron, who has a very skewed perception of balon (and therefore an overly rosy view of balon's legacy).

if it had been asha who was taken as hostage-bride, i honestly don't think any tully-greyjoy or stark-greyjoy children (who would have been ~9 years old MAX at the time of the kingsmoot in canon, assuming asha was forced to have children immediately after the rebellion) would have stood a snowball's chance in hell of inheriting. euron would likely have them killed in some clandestine way, and victarion, should he win, would be pressured to neutralize them in a less kinslay-ey way (though he could potentially take a male child on as heir, given his own lack of progeny).

all of this to say, the greyjoy line of succession is inevitably thorny. in my predominately vibes-based opinion, in the absence of a clear male heir like theon and knowing the ironborn's lack of deference to "green land law", "thea" might be taken over asha. i imagine lords like ned stark or hoster tully would be afraid that an asha match would basically be throwing their grandchildren into the greyjoy succession meat grinder, when asha/"thea" still have so many living and powerful male relatives.

anyway, thank you for coming to my female theon succession and hostage logistics tedtalk, and please tell me how wrong i am in the replies/reblogs 🫡

[sweetestpopcorn]

hi sweetestpopcorn! i hope this ask finds you in good health and a happy september! (also i hope my ask isn’t too much of inconvience over all your work!)

i have a question relating to the dance of dragons and the blacks & the greens: while it is already established that the reason for the greens rising up and the civil war is because of rhaenyra’s gender (because there are drafts where rhaenyra does not have any bastard children to weaken her claim and still half of westeros rose up), do you think there were any nobles in westeros that were rising up against rhaenyra specifically for the reason that rhaenyra had bastards? and if so, would that mean that by your AU they would more likely be switched to black from green because of rhaenyra’s marriage to daemon? do you think that there were any nobles that were won to rhaenyra’s side because of their love for daemon?

personally i think that there may be a few families that would switch from green to black with your au but i’d love your opinion! thank you 🩷🩷🩷

Hi there!

Love your icon image <3

Hum... I get your question and there's much merit to it. I do think that the question and doubt around the "Velaryon" princes should make a lot of people not support Rhaenyra. After all, throughout the asoiaf books - all of them - we are continuously shown and told how much people despised bastards. Even in Fire and Blood and regarding the "Velaryon" princes this is highlighted for instance here:

This passage actually also highlights the issue the illegitimacy of her sons would pose for Rhaenyra herself, as she would be accused of High Treason and bear minimum would be liable for being disinherited completely but the consequences could go as far as death.

Nonetheless, as I and others have previously highlighted, even in the Green Council the illegitimacy of her sons is mentioned - by Alicent and Ser Incel Cole - but given very little attention. As for the lords of Westeros to the best of our knowledge, this was not a relevant factor.

I think it might be easily explained by a combination of factors. Most lords in Westeros had never seen the "Velaryon" princes and/or their purported father Ser Laenor + they knew that Rhaenyra had Arryn blood and that Rhaenys - Ser Laenor's mother - had Baratheon blood. Further, and most relevant of all, all three of them were dragonriders, which was taken as evidence - by the author of the book himself - that they were in fact legitimate. Of course that the logical thing is that they didn't need a father with Targaryen blood since Rhaenyra was a dragonrider and the youngest one of her house, but I think that's another evidence in the books of how much the role of women was overlooked, translation: If a child does X then it comes from their father 🤡

This all being said, I still think that this issue which was in fact Rhaenyra's biggest handicap should have played a much bigger role overall besides being used to portrait her as a wh0re and ruin her reputation, since it went well, well beyond that. However, it really wasn't.

Now we can play the "just because it's not said doesn't mean it didn't happen" game, but once again, we could also play that game with anything, including Aegon's 🥎🥎 We could say he could have anywhere from one to three and actually it would be impossible to disprove this statement. That is however, a game I don't enjoy playing because it's opening the door to just about everything, and then to the maesters, evil, evil, maesters changing history and lying.

So in sum, no, in my AU not having illegitimate children doesn't really change Rhaenyra's support all that much though her supporters are very, very pleased about who her heir is and the fact that his father was a Targaryen, which has highlighted by Lord Beesbury's arguments in Fire&Blood did matter - i.e., amount of Targaryen blood. It does change and a lot how people reading feel about her claim though, and over the years I had many people that consider themselves Neutral tell me that in the context of my fanfiction they are Team Black no questions asked.

In fact, strange as it is, I think this was an addition of George's not as much to the story but for his readers, to make them feel more ambiguous about the Dance.

Is this a big limitation in the way the Dance is written? Yes it is, and it does highlight how George is significantly stronger when he plays the gardener - main asoiaf books - instead of architect - Fire and Blood.

Cheers!

[greenaswildfire]

I was thinking... (spoilers, spoilers everywhere)

the writing decision of focusing so much on the fact that Aegon's parts were burnt root and stem is probably related to the future alliance with the Baratheons, right?

If they don't change it (lmao), almost at the end of the Dance Alicent comes up with a marriage pact, this time with Aegon instead of Aemond, and Boros's daughter. But with Aegon's inability to produce heirs, how will that work now? Will this alliance still hold?

Oh well, they'll probably use it as an excuse to justify Boros betraying the Greens. Because nope, if TB is betrayed, the Greens must also have at least one betrayal to make up for the huge difference of loyalties :)

In terms of important Houses I can't remember any house betraying the Greens (Great Houses, not others like House Peake or Fossoway). I consider quite curious how, in terms of Black side, House Arryn and House Stark took their sweet time to help them. These two Houses pulled a Late Lord Frey, way before Walder frey was even born lmao

And it's not even secret that Rhaenyra's mother was an Arryn, everybody knew House Arryn would side with the Blacks anyway, the realm knew House Arryn would be a rebel House and still, Jeyne Arryn is shown as very cautious, letting Rhaenyra fend for herself instead of helping her. (Can't blame her though, she was probably the only actually smart woman in this show who wasn't butchered by plot in order to prop Rhaenyra up)

And I won't even mention the Starks. With the reddit leaks I'm very, VEEEERY curious to see the reason behind this late help. Everything depends on whose version will prevail, Condal's or Hess's.

If we take these two houses into account, we have: Strong, Stark, Velaryon, Arryn (and maybe Blackwoods?) betraying the Blacks for their own purposes, not to mention Rosby who made very clear Rhaenyra's hypocrisy, but I doubt they mention anything about this House, right? :D

And when it comes to the Greens... only the Tullys and the Brackens (but as far as we know, their leader was burned by Daemon for refusing to bend the knee, so maaaaaybe they won't even remember them in S3?).

5 (maybe 6) vs 1 (maybe 2), woah, quite a difference in loyalties, even more considering how the Green side has always been the one with less support and dragons.

The thing is: iirc, the allies that betrayed the Greens weren't motivated by distrust in them, or the crown's misdeeds against them (like what happened with Arryn, Stark and Velaryons in TB). It was due to circunstances and manipulation tactics, otherwise, they would have stayed loyal to the greens.

Team Black NATURALLY doesn't inspire loyalty.

So they thought "how can we balance things and make the Blacks look like they inspire more loyalty than the greens???? Oh! How about find a way to shake the Green alliance with Boros Baratheon? Between a Green eunuch with a crown and Rhaenyra's two boys, Boros has more chances of power with her than with Aegon.

Condal, Hess, you can't fool us. We can predict all your moves.

Such a shame though, because by the looks of things it won't even be someone from TG who is going to kill her (if that ever happens in this fanfic of theirs), is most likely someone from TB itself because they simply have no enemies anymore.

Which is far worse PR move for a team who loves to boast about "how Aegon was poisoned by his own allies" :) Hackondal and Mess are stuck with this ending, unlessss they bring back Sunfyre and follow the book. But Rhaenyra, killed by a TG? Naah, it wouldn't be tragic girlboss enough for her. I place my bets on TB.

[ride-thedragon]

You know, I'm glad they did not give Nettles' story to Rhaena.

Truth is, even if Show! Velaryons are black and therefore Laena's daughters are black, they still take part in an elitist society and part of a race considered the most beautiful and most powerful of the world that used to have an empire that took part in the Conquest of Westeros; and the Velaryons are also considered to have magical Valyrian blood like the Targaryens.

And even if Rhaena is not a princess because her relation to King Jaehaerys is that of a great-granddaughter/great-great-granddaughter through her father and mother; Rhaena is still a lady of House Targaryen, the most powerful family in the world.

Rhaena has lived with her stepmother, stepbrothers and half-brothers for so long she knows a lot about dragons and because of that she would never have to retort to herself slitting the throat of a sheep and would never get to sleep in dirty alleys and have so many scars from encounters with merchants.

Not even Baela, who is a tomboy, has the narrative of sleeping near commoners nor having a thief scar on her nose.

Rhaena has the privilege of the highborns and most specifically the privilege of being a Targaryen; whereas Nettles is a commoner girl who has had to adapt to live as a thief to survive and whose only proof she's a dragonseed is that she claimed Sheepstealer, and even then, her method is not exactly common among the current dragonriders even if the original ones did it that way.

Personally I dislike the theory of Nettles being Daemon's daughter, Daemon is explicitly described as fond and preferring of Valyrian maidens, and given Nettles' looks it's obvious her mother was not Valyrian; and if Nettles was his daughter we have to remember that's the only form of incest the Targaryens never ever had.

In my own headcanons, Nettles has more possibilities of being a descendant of Aegon the Uncrowned who was known for entertaining many maidens, or Maegor Targaryen, and she could even be a descendant of Daemon Velaryon the brother of Queen Alyssa Velaryon as they themselves had Targaryen blood.

I agree mostly. It's not a narrative that makes sense for Rhaena. No matter how they try to position her. Even if we look at her show characterization thus far, it would be unfortunate to give her another plot. I see a lot of people saying they're glad rhaena has something to do, but it's a disservice to her character. As though the show couldn't think of a role where she isn't head first in war even though she's such an important character towards the end of the dance. They just have to get a Vale plot, which could simply be her teaching the boys as best as she can and looking over dragon eggs. But they didn't give her morning.

I have no idea what their plan is. What I do know is that if it happens, it doesn't make sense. Nettles' story is important, and seeing as the fans have found a way to push her specific arcs unto every character that breathes when Nettles isn't on screen, it's more difficult to replace her in the story. It's a disservice to them both.

Nettles isn't Daemon's daughter 100%. He's a weirdo, but he isn't insane. He'd groom 100 teens, but he wouldn't sleep with his daughter. We know that because he largely ignores them in the show.

Lastly, I do see the Nettles is a bastard of theories as a waste of time. They don't make sense why George would go through all the trouble of her appearance and story just to be like she she great grand child of Aenys through a bastard that ended up on Driftmark. It's odd. But if I had to guess, I could see Aegon the auncrowned potentially, maybe even Jaehaerys or one of his sons. Perhaps a Baratheon. Who knows.

Overall, now we just wait and see. I, for one, won't be tuning in as much if she isn't included. (Rhaena and Baela scenepack folks, you'll have my subscription). They seem to have forgotten Alysanne and Sabitha as well. I do think if she is included, her arc will be different, but that's another thing I just will hold off on until she's announced. And if she isn't, it's been fun. As for Nettles' theories, my personal HC is that if she is a bastard, it's from Jaehaerys onward, and if she is, I hope it's from her mother's side.

[daenerystargaryensgirlfriend]

My beef with Hotd starts with the fact that they made it look like the reason the greens wanted to put Aegon on the throne was the presumed bastardy of Rhaenyra's children, while in the book the greens have got no proof of their affirmations, in fact even the narrator tells us that those are unconfirmed rumors (this thesis's even supported by the fact that Rhaenyra was directly related to the arryns and Laenor was directly related to the baratheons).

The realm didn't give a shit about those rumors.

The only one that made use of them was Vaemond Velaryon, who wanted to overthrow Corlys and gain more power.

The greens in that occasion started messing with the succession of another house, which is very problematic. Imagine if everyone could meddle in the affairs of other houses by claiming that the heir's a bastard, you'd have thousands of accusations by the people that wish to propose another heir, by other people in the line of succession, by those who want to bring that house down, etc.

The real reason why the greens started to spread that rumor was to bring down Rhaenyra because the real motive behind their actions was the greed of power of Alicent and Otto Hightower (and their closest allies of course). They were helped by the fact that Rhaenyra is a woman, but the reason why the Dance happened was because of greed and not because Rhaenyra was a woman (it helped but it isn't the main reason) or because her kids could've been bastards.

The Dance would've happened even if Rhaenyra was a boy, maybe it would've been more difficult for the greens, but i think it still would've happened.

Of course since they changed most of the show dynamics i didn't expect to see Alicent have any sort of greed of power, but at least Otto? At least introducing maybe a new character that was involved in Otto power's scheme? At least making Harwin black too to show that it was only a rumor?

[daeneryscel]

Rightful Heirs and a World of Woes

Does supporting Aegon II over Rhaenyra as the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms make someone a misogynist? Let’s get into it.

First of all, let’s look up some definitions:

Primogeniture - The term comes from the Latin "primo” which means first, and “genitura” which relates to a person's birth. Historically, primogeniture favored male heirs, also called male-preference primogeniture. Under this regime, the eldest living son would inherit the entirety of his parent's estate. (law.cornell.edu)

Patriarchy - A system of society or government in which men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it. (Oxford)

Absolute Monarchy - A monarchical government in which a ruler has unrestricted power over the State and its people due to lack of constitutional or legal restraints. (sociologydictionary.org)

Law – The system of rules which a particular country or community recognizes as regulating the actions of its members and which it may enforce by the imposition of penalties. (Oxford)

Tradition – The transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation, or the fact of being passed on in this way. (Oxford)

Precedent - An earlier event or action that is regarded as an example or guide to be considered in subsequent similar circumstances. (Oxford)

Misogyny - Dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women. (Oxford)

Now, let’s look into both characters' claims to the throne:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Eldest living child of King Viserys I and his first wife Queen Aemma Arryn.

Named her father’s heir over her male uncle in 105 AC.

All Lords of the Realm swore fealty to her and her right to the throne.

Protected by the Widow’s Law, enacted by King Jaehaerys I, which forbade a man to disinherit the children by a first wife in order to bestow their lands, seat, or property on a later wife or her children. (Fire & Blood: Birth, Death, and Betrayal Under King Jaehaerys I)

During the Dance of Dragons, 53 houses supported Rhaenyra’s cause over Aegon’s 28. Most prominently she had the support of three of the Great Houses initially: The Starks, the Arryns, and the Greyjoys. The Tullys joined her cause later on in the war, after their pro-Green Lord, Grover Tully, passed away from illness after the Second Battle of Tumbleton, in which his heir Lord Elmo Tully, and his son Kermit, supported the Blacks. The Lannisters and Baratheons support Aegon, and the Tyrells remain neutral. The Martells have yet to join the fold.

Aegon II Targaryen

Eldest living male child of King Viserys I and his second wife Queen Alicent Hightower.

“The Great Council of 101 AC thereby established an iron precedent on matters of succession: regardless of seniority, the Iron Throne of Westeros could not pass to a woman, nor through a woman to her male descendants.” (Fire & Blood: Heirs of the Dragon - A Question of Succession)

We could look even further into this point, like bringing up personalities and whether or not one was worthier of the Iron Throne than the other; but none of that information is necessary in figuring out who is the rightful heir, and if supporting Aegon II over Rhaenyra is inherently misogynistic.

Onto my next point: Westeros is an Absolute Monarchy (up to the Dance of Dragons era, once the dragons are gone it becomes a completely feudal monarchy).

The definition, in simpler terms, is that the current ruler holds all power, and no one is allowed to undermine them. They have the final say; which is where the definitions of law, tradition, and precedent come into play.

The Great Council of 101 AC backs Viserys, and would back Aegon, by definition; but only in the case of the King having not already named his heir.

George R.R. Martin himself has stated the succession laws in Westeros are finicky and subject to change, “Well, the short answer is that the laws of inheritance in the Seven Kingdoms are modeled on those in real medieval history; which is to say, they were vague, uncodified, subject to varying interpretations, and often contradictory… The medieval world was governed by men, not by laws. You could even make a case that the lords preferred the laws to be vague and contradictory, since that gave them more power.”

The Great Council set a precedent, the naming of one’s firstborn son as heir is tradition, but the King’s word is law. As the lawful King of Westeros, Viserys is allowed to name whoever he wants as his heir. In this case, he chose his firstborn child: Rhaenyra Targaryen. This is the same process as Jaehaerys choosing Baelon over Rhaenys, only in that case, it was in favor of the male claimant. Even when given the opportunity to change his mind (seeing as he had three sons that he could choose from) he steadfastly upheld his daughter’s claim to the throne.

All of this points to Rhaenyra Targaryen being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Now, how does this tie into the claim that supporting Aegon over her is misogynistic?

As stated above, misogyny is ‘the dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women.’ Aegon only has two points towards him being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, which is tradition and precedent. Neither of which helped his case beyond making him a claimant to the throne. Aegon’s claim derives entirely from Rhaenyra being a woman. Despite this, Rhaenyra is the named, lawful heir of the current monarch, therefore Queendom is her birthright. This is acknowledged by Aegon, “My sister is the heir, not me. What sort of brother steals his sister’s birthright?”

The point can be made that Aegon was manipulated into taking the throne by his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, his grandfather, Ser Otto Hightower, and Lord Commander of the King’s Guard, Ser Criston Cole, on the basis that Rhaenyra would put him and his family to the death to secure her and her children’s succession. This is proven false, when after the stillbirth of her daughter, and her coronation, Rhaenyra makes a point of saying, “As for my half-brothers, and my sweet sister Helaena, they have been led astray by the counsel of evil men. Let them come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask my forgiveness, and I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart, for they are of my own blood, and no man or woman is as accursed as the kinslayer.” Oathbreaking, kinslaying, etc. are considered some of the most wretched crimes in the Seven Kingdom, and Rhaenyra proved that this is a belief that she also shares.

Many fans of this work have gone on to state that they are Team Green because of the characters on that side, such as Alicent, Helaena, Aemond, etc., and not because they want Aegon on the throne, which is their right. Others, though, have stated that they believe in male primogeniture and go on to say some of the most vile, heinous things imaginable concerning Rhaenyra simply because they do not like her. This is your prerogative, but it doesn’t make it right.

Male primogeniture is misogynistic. If you believe in male primogeniture, it makes you a misogynist. The whole point of it is that men are better and more deserving of basic human decency than women. If Aegon’s only real claim to the throne derives from Rhaenyra being a woman, and you support him over her because of that, there are very high chances that you are a misogynist.

In the end, this is a fictional story. None of it is real, and we as an audience should be able to like and support whichever characters we want without being subjugated to name-calling or death threats because of the actions taken in the universe. There comes a point, however, where fiction and reality blend together. A Song of Ice and Fire is heavily inspired by events that happen in real life. An example of this would be the Dance of Dragons taking inspiration from the Anarchy, a civil war that took place in 12th century England between Princess Matilda and her cousin Stephen for the throne.

Let me reiterate that there is nothing wrong with liking or disliking certain characters.  The problem arises when fans of this work attempt to place themselves in-universe as nobles or peasants and resort to letting what is considered normal in medieval society influence how they interact and engage other fans of this work in the real world. The world of A Song of Ice and Fire is inherently misogynistic, homophobic, and racist; along with many other horrible things. It may have been normal then, but it isn’t normal now, and we as consumers have to be better about separating that. None of us should agree with any traditions, laws, or precedents that actively harm a subgroup of people in order to lift up others.

[horizon-verizon]

Cersei vs Rhaenyra's Children: The Political & Personal Implications of Their Appearances & Existences

[REDO bc previous wasn't written well enough]

Aside from THIS and THIS showing how negligible & changeable the effects and meaning of "bastardry" was in the real world and Westeros (very important posts)...

Despite the argument that Rhaenyra's cheating doesn't equal modern-day cheating, the flavor of feudal monarchist misogyny against female agency, and how Rhaenyra actually didn't have that many options of a safe father for her necessary heirs (scroll down to section D, parts 3-5), there are still some who argue that she should have chosen someone who looks like Laenor or like her, sometimes using Cercei' 's situation with her own kids and Robert to say "At ThE eNd Of ThE dAy", Rhaenyra's kids are bastards.

No, neither set are "legally" bastards.

Neither set were ever declared or "acknowledged" as bastards. Robert probably would have had he bene informed, but bc he died before then, Cersei's kids are not officially bastards…which is what is required to have them "legally" known as bastards. Because bastardry has always been more of a legal question in its nature than a biological fact of nature. Of course, we know that Rhaenyra's kids aren't Laenor's biologically; Ned deuced that Cersei's weren't Robert's biologically. And medieval customs put the social-legal identification of "bastard" based on the institution of marriage and its compulsions on women and their reproductive labor claimed by the men "licensed" to own them. Which is why when we say that neither Cersei's nor Rhaenyra's kids are "bastards", it is true because the role of bastardry is to attempt to reclaim the product of reproductive labor…and Viserys/Corlys/Laenor/Robert have already done that. To protest about how Robert didn't know about his kids not being his kids is really to protest how he didn't not get the products of Cersei's reproductive labor the in the objectifying business of labor intrinsic in this feudal society. Whereas Viserys/Laenor/Corlys accepted the products of Rhaenyra's reproductive labor.

They both "get away" with something, with being revealed & exposed as having had extramarital sex (not "affairs", bc Rhaenyra didn't have an affair, she and Laenor had and agreement!)...but because they do not share the same positions nor have the same sort of people around them, their kids therefore are not in the same boats nor do not share similar sociopolitical positions. And yes, if the parentage of their kids get exposed, there are possible, terrible consequences. But they will not be treated the same.

Sometimes people argue that Cersei had even more success in passing off her kids than Rhaenyra bc "at least" they look like her...even this is negliable and reductive.

A) Really, the Prime Reason, but whatever, this is a Master Post

Rhaenyra is the heir. All her kids have DIRECT claim to the Iron throne through her. Not Laenor, not Daemon, not Harwin...RHAENYRA!

Cersei's children "should" have had claim to the throne from their father Robert because Cersei has no claim AT ALL to the Iron throne bc she's not a Baratheon. Indirect nor Direct.

["direct" refers to a vertical lineage (mom and grandparent were heirs or the monarchs); "indirect" would be like your cousin or uncle being the heir or monarch]

And adding onto this, Viserys, the MONARCH, ABSOLUTELY knows those children are biologically Laenor's Laenor knows. Corlys knows. Yet all three accept those kids as their heirs/relations and thus also place them as their respective heirs for their respective seats. (This is an example of how lords are far more interested in making sure that their singular, sovereign privilege to decide things for their house and reducing the chances of dissenters than they are in seeing a possible claimaint question them or challenge them/their heirs for power, whether they have claim or not. that the oaths that any perosn makes to them are honored and in that way they can also be assured to have the loyalties of those making those oaths. Rhaenyra's claim had other implications and stakes for the lords than her being a woman! Hence why most of Westeros pledged and fought for Rhaenyra!!!--thought from rhaenin-time here on Tumblr)

As for "but they were never publicly recognized or acknowledged as bastards for them to be openly legitimized", only the monarch can declare any legitimizations -> there has never been a time when a noble/royal woman--who did not rule a house or the realm in her own right nor was declared as an heir--birthing a bastard has had that bastard legitimized except for Daemon Blackfyre. Daena was not a Queen regnant nor ever the heir. She was slotted to be the Queen Consort, like Cersei became. Rhaenyra does not share this position, she was the heir and if you are wondering why this matters, you have not read my previous paragraphs correctly or at all.

In acknowledgements--when "the biological father of a bastard may...bring him formally into his house"--it is always been the father doing the customary acknowledgement! Why? Because women who have extramarital sex, unlike men, usually don't given keep the right to marry bc she's "ruined", "unchaste", or-and "disobedient" and "unfaithful", much less be considered an autonomous claimant to anything. A person who is forever considered more a dependent than an agent in their own society cannot have the same abilities as an agent unless they are like Rhaenyra...and even then the gender roles are so strong as to make exceptions for someone like Rhaenyra. Since to be a woman = "obedience" to a male/male adjacent force/entity.

Daemon Blackfyre's father, Aegon IV, was not only royal-noble himself, he was the King (Aegon IV). If Daena had Daemon by a noble nonroyal, or a peasant man, her son would never have been legitimized even with her acknowledging him bc she had already been politically subordinated by Baelor, the Dance, etc. so as to not have political allies at court/beyond and be even less considered as the "safe" enough". Even if she had been older than Aegon IV. Any child she had/Daemon's claim to the throne would be considered weaker than any child by Aegon IV, bastard or not. Which is a huge reason why she went for Aegon IV of all people when she escaped!!!! Besides the fact that it would have been beyond obvious that Naerys was not at all his type and he would have not tried to hide that, she not only wanted to express her defiance and autonomy for her being locked up, she wanted her own blood claim (the political power she had left) to really mean something after Baelor's naked attempts to diminish it. By being the mother to a child who could reasonably compete with any of Aegon's even just in theory, she in turn "restores" the value and meaning of her own blood/power. Again, what mattered is that her kid(s) is also another Targ's, bastard or not.

There is no agnatic primogeniture in Westeros except maybe in the North (girls are not heirs or monarch no matter what). Except Dorne, where there is absolute primogeniture--any firstborn, male or female--can become the heir/ruler--Westeros has always done male-preferred primogeniture. Men have chosen female heirs or rulers, have been lead by women. Look them up in A World of Ice and Fire.

Men have been the final authority or privileged decider of the two genders precisely because they were the ones who usually had the power to do so. There is no written and consistent "law", only traditions and customs. So yes they have had the only practical authority to "acknowledge".

Therefore on the issue of Rhaenyra's kids having strong claim...yes they do, because Rhaenyra is in a similar[not same] position of every lord, male noble, and male heir: she is the "decider" of her house. Daemon was not the one to make final decisions of Dragonstone when they married, that was all Rhaenyra!

Whereas Cersei's kids do not in the purest technical sense because she has no claim at all to the throne by blood and Westeros is not 17th-18thth centuries Russia where a empress consort could become empress regnant through her marriage alone.

And obviously, since Rhaenyra is the next head and her firstborn is Jace and we don't see her choose any heirs apart from him...Jace is her legitimate heir.

B) Cersei's reason for choosing Jaime or not the same for why Rhaenyra chose Harwin to be the father of hers.

We could argue all day that genetics gives us children who could inherit "50-50" of their parents' features or something like that, but:

ASoIaF genetics is weirder than real genetics.

The Baratheons (even when marrying Lannisters & other houses) tend to yield dark-haired kids, & yet Cersei's 3 kids are all blonde with no Baratheon gray eyes...it's like people forgot the information Ned used to prove that she was fucking Jaime and was passing her kids off as Robert's in the first place, but maybe some people who argue this simply hadn't read the books while they make arguments about the series simultaneously

Both women relied on their aristocratic privileges to maintain and accrue power (Rhaenyra, blood claim and king-chosen; Cersei, born an aristocrat, a Lannister, and married to a King, mother to another). Cersei actually should be risking herself similar to how some say Rhaenyra was. She's not protected by a royal father, but by an "ordinary" aristocratic man, right?

Wrong!

Tywin Lannister is not that much smarter than Tyrion or her; it's that he's built a very intimidating reputation from his ruthlessness towards the Reynes, amassed great wealth, sided with Robert at the last minute, and made/maintained important connections (Steffon Baratheon and Aerys II) since he was in his early twenties. Nevertheless, in the world they live in, he has made his house more materially powerful and socially prestigious than it has ever been. But his greatest oversight was to abuse his own kids into their own versions of incompetencies so that his house wouldn't be able to continue its stature beyond himself and his brother Kevan. But for the sake of the climate Cersei grew up and developed her Lannister Exceptionalism, what I say still matters. With her father's influence and silent rejection, she has learned that to be powerful is to abuse and use up others. To cause enough fear to intimidate others that they couldn't dare to attack her or anyone she loved.

(For writings about Cersei, click HERE, HERE, and HERE).

She has less faith put into her than Rhaenyra had & she has been raised-left to block out what could diminish the soundness of her ideas through trying to emulate Tywin while not having his man-exclusive privileges. We have seen Cersei's mind and how she thinks for many chapters. While she has a good knowledge of history, she is also not patient or self-aware/accepting enough of her own limits to be good at critical thinking & be a good enough strategist. She's too prideful and full of deluded self-grandeur--her way of self-affirming against the misogyny she received since she was below 10 butting against her need to practice "real", substantive power. The same kind & level of power and compunction men are allowed.

But with this AND the fact they are different types of Queens...

While both women were severely limited in what partner they could have while still expect to have the security and positions that they had:

Rhaenyra, as the first true female heir apparent of the realm, had to have more planning and preparations for her to be able to ascend with as little issue as possible than if she were male. Rhaenyra's husband was gay and couldn't bring himself to "properly" impregnate her. She had to have heirs to secure her own claim and Viserys' wishes that she take the throne. It was her "duty" as a woman AND heir. It was thus also the only way she'd be even more assured she'd have a smoother time ascending. So her husband not impregnating her is a huge problem. And she was not a rapist, so forcing Laenor to do would be rape. If you are okay with Rhaenyra or any person raping their spouse to get heirs, you are not the type of person who should be reading ASoIaF nor have any sort of relationship, frankly. You are a menace to society, and a hypocritical because how is rape better than having "bastards"?!!! And she had to choose a father that would not try to risk her one her kids' lives by trying to say he was the dad or otherwise try to gain benefits by being said father. A man who would be with her for her alone and not try to overrule or overbear her authority/position for his own gain. ...So, for duty + love + intimacy = different types of "safety", Rhaenyra chose Harwin.

Cersei chose Jaime because she was suffering from both spousal abuse and the destroyed expectations in her role for being Queen Consort. All her life, Tywin had been hyping & telling her she would be the Consort of Rhaegar specifically. Like Alicent, Cersei and every girl knew that to be the Consort of the King was usually the highest rank and means to the most wealth/prestige a woman could have. Women are human, so they also have the propensity for ambition, or they want the most "safety" and "glory". Because Robert didn't hide or even try to engage with Cersei in a really human way because of his "missed chance" with Lyanna AND Cersei had grown up with the foundation that it was her Lannister exceptionalism that made her worthy (since being a woman wasn't enough), Cersei was forever offended by Robert. Again, there was a chance for Robert to be patient and engage when he perceived her reluctance...instead her tried to foist his displeasure on her own "coldness". Saying that she "owed" him her body no matter how she felt about him. Even with that being the custom, custom shouldn't trump human dignity. Like slavery...so it's okay to own a human being because by law or by tradition, they aren't human?! Because of custom, a woman's children aren't really hers but her husband, even though she could have nearly died birthing all/any of them...let's bfr. And we know that Robert physically abuses her. It really doesn't matter when or how it got there, once you decided to lay hands on people, you have debased them and are not owed neither respect nor should be owed protection. In fact, it is this entrapment of "duty" that propels Cersei into her being even more prideful...because without that pride, what else does she have?! Unfortunately, unlike Dany, Cersei's pride relies on her nobility and viciousness to "get the job done", on her being as "masculine" as possible. She has always admired the Targs exactly for their domination & the exclusive right to practice Westerosi-considered-incest (siblings), so, through Jaime/twin incest--the person she feels she would have been if she were male--she's affirming both her autonomy AND making a claim on her worthiness AND kinda making claim on him.

Robert, by abusing her and not recognizing her as worthy enough, she has decided, doesn't get to have further domination to her through reproduction. He does not get to totally "own" her through her children. If Cersei had any kids by Robert, it's very likely she would have hated them or at least really neglected them. If she hadn't tried to abort them even late into the pregnancy and risk her own life (I'm talking purposefully falling down the stairs or getting her hands on "cheap" moontea that could have wracked her body and/or killed her). It's her last line, her means of establishing control over herself...like Daena defying Baelor.

But bc unlike Rhaenyra, Cersei was Queen Consort, was never blood related to any royal, is and always will be just the Queen Mother AND if Robert had known any of her kids weren't his...GRRM has said that Robert would likely kill them. Cersei can "get away" with her kids looking more like her when they should at least have one have dark hair (again, all 3 have her & Lannister eyes and hair..ironic how like Rhaenyra, there are 3 kids) because:

neither Robert nor Tywin know about her kids; Robert definitely would have at least gone off the handle and tried to kill her and the kids, and I'm not sure about Tywin except that he'd never let go of his hold of the throne after years of his perceived and real humiliations to get close to it

Robert Baratheon owes his final victory of the rebellion to Tywin and the strongest support for his reign to Tywin Lannister, who has worked towards getting his blood on the throne for years and unlike to let a little blonde hair stop him.

On the other hand, while Viserys I's status is definitely protecting Rhaenyra and her children, Viserys, like Tywin, is the one who got his daughter into the mess she is in in the first place through his poor planning and wanting the "easiest" solution. Cersei doesn't have any other great support other than Tywin and Robert, while Rhaenyra at least had the Velaryons and multiple lords to fight for her in the name of chosen-heir-first. If Robert were to even try to harm her kids, he'd think of Tywin first before doing anything drastic, but there's still the possibility he'd be so angry as to actually blindly attack her or her kids and Tywin can't be everywhere. That and there was no universe where Cersei could have married Jaime as Rhaenyra should have been able to with Daemon (Targs have that overall, cultural ability--even with Starks marrying their uncles to nieces twice!); but Cersei pursues a relationship with Jaime anyway...because she wants to, makes her feel more like the "perfect" being, it brings her a sense of bodily autonomy and control after her marital abuse, and it's the most convenient thing.

As I already stated, Cersei isn't actually thinking of the real politics as motivation to be with Jaime so much as the self-soothing fantasies made from her own yearning desire for power and perfection. It's not truthful to make it as if she were this mastermind or even cares to know real strategy or at least far-thinking when she has never done that except for the wildfyre...which was a disastrous and stupid plan by its execution (ahem, Aerys II). Tywin may hide that her kids aren't Robert for the sake of reputation and keep them safe like Viserys, but his feelings in doing so are not in the same realm of loving even though, kinda like how it is Viserys' fault that Rhaenyra was in the position that she was in, Tywin is at fault for Cersei's. Her being married to Robert. Cersei is a pure pawn piece to Tywin, more than her brothers, because she is a woman and he will never allow her to be his heir. At the same time, it is by Tywin's support that Robert was able to cinch his butt on the throne.

You can read more HERE, as this analysis comes from blankwhiteshield. Cersei didn't have that much access to anyone else her entire life, even as a Consort, because, once more women do not have the same mobility as men (scroll down to "Medieval/Westerosi Noble Male vs. Female Mobility") and she is neither a Tyrell nor a Martell.

C) The Velaryons, if people really want to use their race to "prove" anything

1. If you cannot read throughly, you will miss the argument.

Some people have opted to use the "why aren't Rhaenyra's sons not darker?! It's so obvious that she had bastards!" thing. This assumes that these same people want to use real-life genetics as their main crutch.

With more people showing their kids online, we ourselves are getting to witness that interracial couples often have children in various colorations, from very thin, pale-blond-light-eyed to darker-skinned, darker eyes, coilier hair.

Ryan Condal and other producers/writers of HotD made the Velaryons historically black with no hint of blue, gray, or green eyes like Milly Alcock, Emma D'arcy, and Paddy Considine. Or vice versa. (Putting purple eyes in either post or contacts for some actors who are willing could have helped here, but the point is that the Velaryons who don't have Targs for direct relatives [Rhaenys being Laenor & Laena's mother] and Targs only share the pale hair part of Valyrian appearance).

Valaena Velaryon (the 3 conquerors' mother) would then be also black/darker skinned. Alyssa Velaryon (Rhaena--rider of Dreamfyre--, Jaehaerys I, & Alysanne's mom) would also be black/mixed/have darker skin.

Therefore every Targ after the Conquerors & before Aegon V are visibly black/mixed/darker-skinned (including Daemon, Viserys, and Rhaenyra)

After Aegon V marries the white Betha Blackwood, the Targs continue to marry lighter women, and thus the Targs get lighter and lighter until we get Dany & her siblings being white-white.

If we were to actually introduce black/mixed Rhaenyra, her kids with Laenor should also have inherited the eyes/hair/etc. of Valyrians. But even if she, this should-be-mixed-Rhaenyra had just white-Harwin as her lover and father to her kids....her kids could very well turn out very similar as they do now. Ironically, despite his own intentions and words, Condal set us up with a reason to believe that Rhaenyra should be even less suspected of having bastards even with the boys' dark hair and eyes.

Again, Because she would be visibly mixed, they also should be visibly mixed. Even though they aren't Laenor's biologically.

Not only does Rhaenys canonically have dark hair in the actual book, but her cousin Borros has the Baratheon dark hair that canon!Rhaenys supposedly (if we follow true genetics) and likely could have given Laenor to pass onto his own kids. Thereby he also really missed an opportunity to show how "obvious" the greens' slander was not working outside of us looking at Alicent's frenetic movements. See how this change could have actually given a more nuanced revelation and element to the story the writers created?!

In HotD, they should have all display variances of hair texture & eye color, including Jaehaerys, Daemon, and Rhaenyra themselves. However, this change and the inconsistency it brings up are not things that I "hate" in of themselves because we do need more than just white people in our mainstream fantasy until we force people to produce actual black/African fantasies....and there are a lot of them.

What I criticize is that Ryan Condal made it very clear that he sees the race play as a means to make it that much more "obvious" that Rhaenyra's kids aren't Laenor's, which both cheapens the value of how much misogyny plays a role against Rhaenyra as well as cheapens and emphasizes the inconsistency of how the writers use the Velaryons' blackness/darkness into it just being a political tool to audiences. (Entertainment Weekly)

"Once we had that idea, it just felt like everything fell into place," Condal recalls.

And this is what this Cosmopolitan Black critic had to say, but more eloquently than me:

Nowhere in the first season does HotD mention the Blackness of its few Black characters. All we’re told is that House Velaryon has blood from Old Valyria, which means they are really close to the Targaryens and often marry each other to keep the bloodline “pure.” Nothing wrong with that, but since the Velaryons are Black, shouldn’t all Velaryons have Afrocentric features? The casting department didn’t think so, apparently. One of the main storylines in the first season is the denial that Rhaenyra Targaryen’s children are bastards even though they have white skin and loose curly black hair while their “father” is Laenor Velaryon, a white-haired Black man with dreads. The book Fire & Blood (which the show is adapted from) also follows this plot point. But the Velaryons aren’t Black in the book, meaning it’s somewhat believable or at the very least plausible that Rhaenyra’s children are Leanor’s. I know this is a fantasy show, but there’s something really cringe about (1) trying to pass three obviously white children off as Black and (2) making the one Black family on the show the center of a *checks notes* paternity scandal. Even if House of the Dragon were only following the book’s plot point—the question of the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children—the decision to cast House Velaryon and thus Laenor as Black means that race and racial connotations needed to be introduced as well. You shouldn’t cast a white character as a person of color and then ignore their racial identity.

There were African Christians in the medieval-e/modern pd. worlds; however, this sort of paternity check-thru-race is a post-slavery, modern element.

And while race and genetics in the ASoIaF books are strange, it is not strange enough to eschew skin coloring OR the implications of being the only house that is only/mainly black-skinned altogether and what we readers would expect from that. House Velaryon would have intermarried, for example...have they been marrying each other? siblings, first cousins, and/or second cousins--or more often with other houses? How often for each type of marriage? If the last, why do they all still retain their West Afro-leaning features 90% of the time, even by ASoIaF standards of genetics? Are the other Valyrian houses exclusively black (Celtigar)? Will Rhaenyra's master-of-coin Bartimos Celtigar also be black (from episode 10, no it doesn't look like it)? If not, then that just further shows how the Velaryon-being-black change hasn't been enough to make HotD a model standout in creating meaningful diversity in mainstream fantasy media.

Neglecting the story, the implications of introducing race even with the argument of there being African Christians in the medieval era being accepted (though when you go back, it's more of complicated than that), and thus making race more of a downplayed object instead of an identity.

2. What does this mean, then?

With HotD's changes and by the argument of "Rhaenyra's kids are obviously not black!", if they had authentically used race and skin color when they said it mattered within the show (Condal already said this!), then show!Rhaenyra, by THEIR logice, should be visibly mixed, not white

AND:

show!Rhaenyra's actually should able to pick any lover of any coloring (as long as they have a trustworthy character) bc her kids will always logically/visually "pass" as Laenor's, no matter their actual father; her boys, no matter what would likely have darker skin or be mixed with their array of coloring, because SHE would have that

Laenor, being their official dad, is already black and further showing how their paternity wouldn't be as suspect if it weren't for social manipulation

their appearance wouldn't be as controversial WITHOUT the greens sowing doubt

again, she'd have more ability to choose than Cersei, but bc Rhaenyra in HotD and F&B is still the heir to the throne instead of a regular noblewoman and goes to Dragonstone to rule it independently. Thereby meeting with more people face to face without being as restricted as she would have been as a Queen Consort.

Why have have the comment abt race and skin color at all? if it's not not actually going to matter in-world?! And if it doesn't matter, it was a tasteless, sexist and racist "joke" on Condal's part.

Without the greens, the only reason why anyone would suspect Rhaenyra's kids was bc Laenor was open-secret-gay & chose of his own volition to not be around her as often as people expect married couples to be.

Like I implied in section B), neither are in either Rhaenyra's control nor her fault. If people argue she should have forced Laenor to stay by order, I don't doubt that some of those people are the ones who would say/have said she should have forced him to have sex with her despite his lack of desire, lack of enthusiastic consent, and inability OR that she should have had a slave from any of the Valyrian Free Cities to impregnate her. All of which is rape and/or exploitation of lower-classed persons' bodies.

To the HotD writers...Give us more! Develop a stonger sense of the court's attitude of Rhaenyra and Alicent's and their respective families!!! Give us a pan or something of the courtiers having silent "fun" but doing it so as to not get either Otto's eye or move themselves apart from Alicent's favor. Something that shows the audience that Alicent is trying really hard to smear Rhaenyra out of spite, and therefore puts her in the narrative position of being wrong/villainous for her internalized misogyny through slight implied mocking. If we go through with just the *shrug* of making ASoIaF genetics "that way", still, Condal's still neglected the real implications of making the entire Velaryon house black and all other houses white/predominantly white.

Again, IF he wants to encourage the audience to rely so much on genetics to castigate Rhaenyra!!! If the audience does so without his input, then this still applies to those who would do so to make their arguments against Rhaenyra!!!.

Finally....

HotD tried to make as if they were doing something more meaningful with HotD and a project that image and for some it worked bc racist/sexist consumerism, but it still failed to recreate the meaningful drama and convey the subtle & unsubtle criticisms of many ideologies, historical actions, and social structures that the original story was going for by not thinking of the implications of having mixed/black Velaryon people. And it was probably because they focused more on diluting the sides, in what ozymalek says was made by their own misunderstanding F&B:

The Dance era in "Fire and Blood" is something that will fundamentally cause the feelings of cognitive dissonance. I think this is why people initially disliked this book when it first came out. It did not provide easy answers, it was written as a historical account, the in-universe historians were clearly biased. People, however, had trouble realizing who the historians are biased for and against. Team Green would have you think that "F&B" is biased against the Greens, because their allegiance as maesters clearly being to Hightowers notwithstanding, they could not evade simple historical facts: that most of the kingdom supported Rhaenyra, that Greens were horrendously misogynistic and that her usurpation was clearly wrong. That's why, approaching it from the "choose your favorite war criminal" point of view, it was difficult for Greens to accept that their preferred side is so cartoonishly evil - obviously bias must have been involved, even though the only pro-Black narrator of F&B is Mushroom, the rest are Greens. The maester's anti-Targaryen bias, however, manages to sneak in and mess with the reader's balance, causing said cognitive dissonance. It's hard to deal with it as a reader, let alone as a showrunner who's trying to adapt a story in which not everything is set in stone. They incorrectly assumed that, because they are constantly forced to question what is happening in the story, the bias is with the underlying idea that there was a correct side. As such, they assumed that all the inconsistencies result from maesters not choosing to view it that way. Ryan Condal repeatedly stated that he does not want watchers to pick sides, while George RR Martin embraces it and even encourages it (and I think that he himself has picked the Blacks). Such is our nature as human beings. So they decided that they have to balance the scales.

They really refused to consider & imagine how the difference in race would change the narrative of the Dance and consequently think of ways to make it still work for the story's purpose of showing how people can manipulate self-images and others' images, especially when it concerns women and women in the pursuit of access to higher powers. It refused to actually work to integrate the Blackness, fine. but then it OR the audience--who praised said move--also tried to use said Blackness to make meaning but make meaning against Rhaenyra.

So now there are critical plotholes and missed opportunities in the narrative that just make the story more boring, flatter, and deceptively simpler while still converting misogynist and racist sentiments into stereotypical narratives--thereby discouraging its audience from engaging in proper insight/observing patterns of social manipulation in the misogyny against Rhaenyra, as well as the show's own different flavors of misogyny in Alicent, Laena, Rhaenys' etc.'s re-writings.

They really want Rhaenyra's actions of sexual autonomy to be either criticized, seen as a flaw of hers, or make her agency thematically subordinate to the misogynist expectations that some may feel should guide Rhaenyra's rule/self-conduct. Therefore, it's encouraging the audience to look at Rhaenyra as a/the negative agent, to comply with the misogynist forces and their logic against her. The agent of society-destruction instead of someone trying to move through a society set up more against her than for her. To judge a female leader differently than a male one, judge her "worthiness" to rule more by her willingness to be as traditional and misogynist against herself. To be more complicit with the status quo.

When really no one should genuinely internalize the need to impress or "prove" one's worthiness to people who already believe your gender, skin, etc. justifies your exclusion from certain positions of power, rights, and privileges. That is like asking nicely or behaving like a "good girl" to heart (not just using it as covers) & expecting the same treatment men have/the same rights. This is how show!Alicent thinks and what gets her into that frantic state that makes her think less clearly than she could, adding to the anxiety and abuse she already receives from her father and Larys Strong. Unfortunately, Alicent's belief in "duty" and the absolute "sacrifice" that mainly women must make for a "orderly" aristocratic society just serves to imprison her.

[ladystoneboobs]

on this week's tully tuesday, ok, i cannot defend the trout sigil, but the interesting thing about their coat of arms is that the colors not only reflect their geographic domain (mud red for the red fork of the trident and blue and white for the tumblestone flowing into it), it also mirrors the family's Signature Look of red-brown hair and blue eyes. what other house has that matchup of banner colors and physical looks? certainly not any of the other great houses. the starks have grey eyes but not naturally snow white hair. the lannisters have golden hair but not crimson eyes. the baratheons have black hair but not yellow eyes like a sith lord or the bully in a christmas story. the greyjoys also have black hair but no yellow/gold eyes either (that we know of. nobody can say for sure what's under euron's eye patch). the arryns may tend to blue eyes like jon arryn and harry the heir, however, i think we'd know, even with so few of them in canon, if any had pure white hair from childhood. the tyrells have neither green hair/eyes nor gold hair/eyes. the martells have neither hair nor eyes that are orange, red, and/or gold. the targaryens had red-eyed (but white-haired) bloodraven, an albino outlier, and black-haired family members favoring their dornish, baratheon, strong, etc. heritage but none of them had red eyes (that we know of), and all those are exceptions not conforming to the Signature Look of the incestuous blood of the dragon with their pale hair and purpleish eyes. that trademark true targ coloring could only be reflected in banners of a violet dragon on a silver field or vice versa.

but no, no, with the tully banners grrm just had to triple the significance with geographic locale, family hair/eye coloring that just somehow matches the rivers where their castle is (did this look only develop after axel tully built his stronghold at that strategic location? or did their banners already reflect their looks before they became associated with that river meeting too? did the present coat of arms come after riverrun was built, or was it just a serendipitous act of destiny for it all to match up that way?) plus all the fish symbolism relating to catelyn. (no, i'm still not really defending the trout bc that part doesn't really extend to the rest of the house the same way.)

[goodqueenaly]

I was wondering if you had any theories on why Aemond Targaryen seems to be seen as a much more attractive marriage prospect than Willas Tyrell, despite both of them suffering from the Westerosi stigma surrounding disability. Im basing this supposition in the fact that Aemond is used as a bargaining chip to get the Baratheons on the Greens side at the start of the Dance, and it doesnt seem like the Tyrells have attempted to use Willas as a marriage option to gain more supportive houses for Renly’s campaign. (Later, of course, they offer him to Sansa, but that is when the Tyrells are no longer at war and are allied to the crown/Lannisters through Margery’s marriages.) It just seems the time yo use him as a marriage bargaining chip would have been more usefulI when they were actively backing Renly’s military campaign as opposed to peace time. That makes me think that Aemond was a more “attractive” marriage option, despite both of them being disabled and suffering an ableist society

I recognize Aemond is a Prince and later the brother of the King, but on the Green’s side, he is still 3rd-4th in line for the throne (depending on whether or not Jaehaera is ahead of him in the line of succession. Its less likely that him or his descendants will become King (at least at the start of the Dance) Compared to Willas, who is the heir apparent to Highgarden, and him and his descendants are likely to become the next Great Lords of the Reach. Thats nothing to scoff at.

The only reason i can think of is the the fact that Westarosi society venerates the idea of an ideal man as a warrior, and because of the nature of his injury, Willas is no longer able to fit that ideal. Contrast with Aemond, who became an even better swordsman/warrior after he became disabled. He is still the subject of ableism, but he is more easily able to meet the societal ideal of manhood vs Willas. That likely makes him a more “attractive” marriage option

I think there are a few points to be broken down here.

Number one, I don't think Willias' and Aemond's respective disabilities are comparable in terms of how they are treated in the story, primarily (as you note) because of Aemond's ability to perform Westerosi masculinity in a way Willas cannot. Despite his clearly high aristocratic and dynastic position, Willas cannot escape being described, and specifically negatively described, in the context of his disability; Cersei, Tyrion, and Oberyn all derogatorily refer to Willas as “crippled” or a “cripple” (as does Olenna, albeit in a deliberately frank conversation with Sansa), while Tywin calls Willas Olenna’s “precious one-legged grandson”. Even if Willas is "an able lad", intelligent, magnanimous, and cultivated, Westerosi aristocratic society still critically focuses on his disability: even Mace in praising his son feels the need to qualify that "[h]is leg may be twisted" while saying that Willas "has no want of wits", Margaery describes her eldest brother as having "a bad leg but a good heart", and Arianne, remembering her betrothal history, thinks that she “might even have considered Willas Tyrell, crippled leg and all”. Willas' injury does not absolutely exclude him from marital ambitions - more on that in a bit - but it does precede virtually any discussion of Willas in this universe.

Contrast those perspectives on Willas' disability with the story's treatment of Aemond's missing eye. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that Fire and Blood Volume 1 does virtually nothing to suggest that the loss of his eye ever affected Aemond's ability to perform according to the standards of Westeros' (patriarchal and ableist) martial aristocratic society (at least until his final battle). Indeed, Gyldayn only barely references the aftermath of Aemond's injury, merely noting (as he, Gyldayn, relates the later reign of Viserys I) that "Prince Aemond, despite the loss of his eye, had become a proficient and dangerous swordsman" through his training with Criston Cole. While Aemond does seem to be somewhat generally referred to as "Aemond One-Eye", there are almost no instances of anyone treating Aemond's lack of both eyes with the same disparagement we see so often in characters discussing Willas' injured leg: in fact, the only real criticism seems to have been Maris Baratheon's comment at Storm's End, that she "want[ed] a husband with all his parts" (and everyone knows how I feel about that moment), as well as perhaps Otto Hightower's reproval of Aemond after the events at Storm's End ("You only lost one eye ... How could you be so blind"). While Daemon Targaryen certainly took advantage of Aemond's blind side to strike the killing blow at their final battle above the Gods Eye, no other point in the story relies on Aemond's partial blindness as a plot point or opportunity for commentary from the characters around him: no one besides Maris mocks him for not having both eyes, or suggests that he cannot fight because he can only see out of one eye, or otherwise treats him as lesser compared to fully seeing individuals in Westerosi society.  

Number two, I do not think we can ignore the context of these two characters in terms of their would-be marriages. The green faction specifically looked to House Baratheon at the outset of the Dance because "House Baratheon had always been staunch in support of the claims of Princess Rhaenys and her children". The traditional dynastic currency of aristocratic Westeros - that is, a politically advantageous marriage - was, for the greens, the obvious means of winning Baratheon support for Aegon II: not only could this method specifically counterbalance the marital ties now three generations past which linked the Baratheons to the black faction, but with Borros having four daughters and no son, the Lord of Storm's End might have felt even more uncertain of his position in a looming civil war - and, consequently, even more grateful for a sign of royal favor from the court of King's Landing. Aemond's specific position in the line of succession, I think, mattered less than his ability to act as a dynastic representative for the green faction: just as Daemon Targaryen had been used, in his first marriage, to strengthen Targaryen ties to a powerful Vale House (and one in a temporary ruling position, given Yorbert Royce’s regency of Jeyne Arryn), so perhaps the green faction envisioned Aemond Targaryen as Lord of Storm’s End jure uxoris (or close enough), who would assure the chief power in the Stormlands remained loyal to the green faction. It is also worth pointing out that Aemond was the only royal of marriageable age available at hand to the green faction, since Daeron was still in Oldtown: while the green faction might have chanced Lord Baratheon waiting on, say, either of Aegon II’s young sons, I think the greens decided that the adult Aemond embodied a more immediate guarantee for both parties.  

Contrast this ambition on the part of the green faction with the ambitions of the Tyrells before and at the start of the series. I have said this before and I will say it again, the goal of the Tyrells has consistently been to insert themselves as the dominant power at the royal court by making Margaery a queen. When the original Robert-Margaery plot fell through, the Tyrell solution was to turn to Renly, creating exactly the court the Tyrells had envisioned: a Tyrell as queen, a Tyrell as commander of Renly's de facto Kingsguard, a Tyrell as King's Hand, obvious Tyrell influences in the trappings of Renly's power, and a Tyrell army supporting Renly's claim. With these ambitions satisfied, it remained only for the Tyrells to actually install King Renly and his Tyrell court in the physical space of the Red Keep - an outcome I think Mace and the rest of the Tyrell faction saw as perfectly possible (indeed probable), given the dominating size and strength of the army behind Renly. Where the green faction at the outset of the Dance saw Westerosi aristocratic support (at least to some extent) as uncertain and up for grabs, the Tyrell faction at the outset of the War of the Five Kings approached the war with distinct overconfidence in the ability of Renly to seize and hold the throne. There was no need here to search for additional diplomatic marriages to strengthen the arrangement, even if there had been a politically viable and advantageous option (and I struggle to think who would have been considered as such in this moment for the Tyrells): the plan instead was to move Renly's machine forward, to take the capital by force and install the Tyrell court in its proper, palatial setting.

Number three, and related to that point, it is not the case at all that the Tyrells have completely ignored the idea of marrying Willas for dynastic benefit. Whatever Mace might have imagined for Willas' marital future prior to the start of the series (a point he may not even have felt particularly pressured on, given his arrangement of second son Garlan's marriage and the plethora of Tyrell cousins elsewhere), he certainly saw Willas as a valuable bargaining chip in the Westerosi marriage market during the course of the series. Once the Tyrells had successfully seized the position of queen consort through Margaery, and were well on their way to dominating the court of King's Landing proper, the family attention shifted to an attempt to claim the newly available Sansa for Willas - herself then a very valuable marriage prize, as the next-eldest sibling in a dynasty which had (ostensibly) very suddenly lost its two male spare heirs. (In fact, I believe that the Tyrells were still trying to claim Sansa for Willas after her marriage to Tyrion - by planning to spirit her to Highgarden after Joffrey's assassination, when she would be presumably conveniently widowed from the traitor Tyrion.) Moreover, while the Tyrells rejected Tywin's idea of a Cersei-Willas marriage, Mace does not seem to have given up on a royal marriage for Willas entirely: Kevan Lannister, probably correctly, suspects that Mace may have been alluding to the possibility of a Willas-Myrcella match when Mace opined that "[s]urely a better match [could] be found for the girl" than Trystane Martell. Again, while the Tyrells have not actually secured a politically advantageous bride for Willas as of yet (and I think Willas is going to be a bit too distracted and Mace a bit too dead to do so in the short term), but Willas is not altogether dismissed as a marital pawn, even while Westerosi society mocks his disability.

(This is, as usual, a reminder that I don't talk about That Other Show and anyone who uses my posts to talk about That Other Show is getting blocked.)