#I like post war Tyland.

[stromuprisahat]

... the day-to-day tedium of rule to the blind Hand, Tyland Lannister. Once as tall and golden-haired and dashing as his twin, the late Lord Jason, Ser Tyland had been left so disfigured by the queen’s torturers that ladies new to court had been known to faint at the sight of him. To spare them, the Hand took to wearing a silken hood over his head on formal occasions. This was perhaps a misjudgment, for it gave Ser Tyland a sinister aspect, and before very long the smallfolk of King’s Landing began to whisper tales of the malign masked sorcerer in the Red Keep. Ser Tyland’s wits remained sharp, however. He might have been expected to have emerged from his torments a bitter man intent upon revenge, but this proved far from true. Instead the Hand claimed a curious failure of memory, insisting that he could not recall who had been black and who green, whilst demonstrating a dogged loyalty to the son of the very queen who had sent him to the torturers. ... With the Crown’s gold once more secure, Ser Tyland set aside a million golden dragons as loans for lords whose holdings had been destroyed during the Dance. ... He also ordered the construction of three huge fortified granaries, in King’s Landing, Lannisport, and Gulltown, and the purchase of sufficient grain to fill them. ... The gates of King’s Landing were strengthened at his command, so they might better be able to resist attacks from within the city walls as well as without. The Hand also announced the Crown’s funding for the construction of fifty new war galleys.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Two - The Blackwood Bitch | Series Masterlist

Summary: In the midst of growing unrest amongst the Realm and his Council, Aemond finally meets his betrothed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings: mention of war, canon-divergent, post-Dance Aemond, trauma, arranged marriage

They did not have the confidence to place the crown atop his head, and yet expected him to sit here, in the stuffy Small Council Chambers, and listen to their endless streams of complaints and judgements.

He was only allowed to grace the seat where Aegon had once been because he'd at least agreed to marry the Blackwood girl.

It did not seem fair, to Aemond, as he sat pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to stay off the migraine. The voice of Tyland Lannister barely bleeding through the haze of utter boredom and contempt.

“And what of Corlys Velaryon?” Tyland pressed, his tone clipped yet cautious.

Aemond’s eye flicked open. “What of him?” he drawled.

“His imprisonment in the dungeons has not gone unnoticed,” Tyland continued, carefully. “There are murmurs among his supporters that holding the Lord of the Tides in chains is a…questionable decision. His family’s influence, though diminished, is still considerable. Perhaps the situation warrants—”

“Release?” Aemond interjected, his tone icy.  “Do you imagine me a fool, Lannister? The Sea Snake is not a man to be trusted. He knelt to Rhaenyra, swore his allegiance to her black banner. And when she fell, his silence was a weapon he wielded deftly, even as her cause crumbled to dust. No. Corlys Velaryon shall remain exactly where he is, for now.”

“And Lady Baela and Rhaena? Surely we can use them as leverage, to barter more alliances?”

“They shall remain as they are on Dragonstone, under heavy guard. I will not allow them into my court to scheme with their grandfather. Their existence in the future may prove useful, but I have no patience for deciding now and will not be pressured so.”

Tyland opened his mouth as if to argue but faltered under Aemond’s penetrating gaze. Instead, he offered a curt nod. “As you command, Your Grace.”

Aemond exhaled, as if one touch could spiral him once more to madness. “The North. Is there much news?”

“Cregan Stark is no fool. He remembers where Winterfell first pledged its loyalty, and he knows how to inspire those loyal to Rhaenyra, even after her death. Rumours suggest he may rally support again if provoked, especially given the state of the realm.”

Aemond hummed, but understood deeply the severity of what this could mean for his rule. It was not so long ago that the North had first taken its stand for the Blacks. He’d once held some measure of respect for Stark, if only for the man’s stubborn resolve. 

But respect did not soften threats, and Aemond would not allow another rebellion to fester, especially one from the cold, unyielding expanse of the North, where his control was not as fierce.

“And what of Stark’s movements?”

Tyland hesitated. “There has been little activity, yet enough to suggest he is watching and waiting. But the recent unrest, especially with the harvests diminished from war, has left the North in a precarious state. Winter is settling in sooner than expected, so it may keep them in place for now…though we must tread carefully.

Aemond leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded Tyland with a calculating gaze. But Tyland’s hesitation had not gone unnoticed, and the faint unease it carried twisted like a knife in Aemond’s gut.

“Stark is waiting,” Aemond repeated softly, his tone laced with disdain. “And watching, you say. That means he is weighing his options, biding his time. A dangerous thing to leave unchecked.” 

He glanced at the map to his side, his eye tracing the lines of the Neck and the expanse beyond. “The North’s strength lies in its distance and loyalty to its own. A rebellion from Winterfell could inspire others if we do not act swiftly to secure the Riverlands and the Vale.”

Tyland inclined his head. “Precisely why the matter of your marriage must be addressed with utmost care. A match with House Blackwood has the potential to stabilise our hold on the Riverlands, drawing the house firmly to our cause. Their influence and history may serve as a counterweight to any…discontent from the North.”

Aemond’s lips thinned at the mention of his impending marriage. The arrangement had been presented as a political necessity, a means to cement his rule over the fractured realm. He understood its purpose, of course, the Blackwoods were an ancient house with deep ties to the Riverlands, and their animosity toward the Brackens ensured their loyalty could be leveraged. But the prospect of wedding a stranger, no matter her lineage, still perturbed him.

“Lady Rosaleen,” Aemond said, testing the name as though it might reveal something of its bearer. He turned his gaze to Tyland. “What do we know of her specifically? Beyond her house and the council’s assurances of her suitability.”

“She is young, but not without wit or will. A daughter of Raventree Hall, with blood of the First Men and an unbroken line stretching back to the Age of Heroes. Her mother, a Piper, ensured she carries a touch of Riverlander diplomacy, though it is said Lady Rosaleen herself is more pragmatic than demure.” He hesitated. “She is…untested, but there are no whispers of scandal or unsuitability.”

Aemond hummed again, his mind already piecing together the shape of the woman he would soon wed. Untested, perhaps, but pragmatic could mean cunning, something he might find more tolerable than blind obedience. 

“She is to arrive today, Your Grace. Queen Alicent and Lord Wylde will welcome her personally, and arrangements have been made for you to meet in the gardens this afternoon.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, his discomfort masked beneath a calm exterior. So soon. He had expected more time to prepare himself for this charade.

Larys, who had remained silent until now, shifted in his seat. “A marriage such as this will not go unnoticed by the realm. The great houses will watch closely to see how this union strengthens your hold. And should it falter–”

“It will not falter,” Aemond insisted, his tone clear that he’d had enough of what little Lord Larys had said.

A tense silence followed. No man daring to fire back. As if testing him.

When would these men tire of poking the dragon.

Aemond rose from his seat, the scrape of his chair echoing in the nearly empty chamber. “Dismissed,” he said curtly, his gaze sweeping over the two remaining men. They would conspire in whispers the moment he left, as they always did, but Aemond had no patience for it today.

The doors clamped shut behind him, the Kingsguard flanking his sides as he strolled with unknown purpose through the Keep’s winding halls. 

Would his intended be pragmatic as Tyland had claimed? Would she understand the weight of the crown he bore, the cost of the realm they had shattered and now sought to piece together? 

Would she see only the scarred dragon who had laid waste to the Riverlands, her homeland, and the monster the realm whispered of in secret?

Or would she have foreseen how much of a farce this union was before it had even been done?

One could mistake Aemond for a cat, the way he stopped in his tracks and widened his stance when his eye clocked upon a retinue he did not recognise. If he had been one, his ears would have been pricked back, fur stood high. 

His brow lowered at the black banners decorated with red, not unlike his own native sigil, but this one adorned with the sigil of House Blackwood. A pair of guards lingered near the great doors leading to the guest chambers, their armour bearing the same emblem.

She has arrived.

Rosaleen’s retinue, no doubt. He felt a flicker of something he could not name, curiosity, perhaps, or irritation at being caught unprepared. But there was no sign of her, no glimpse of the woman who would soon bear his name.

His thoughts were interrupted by a burst of feminine laughter echoing down a nearby corridor. Aemond’s steps stilled, his sharp hearing picking up the unmistakable lilt of idle gossip.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if the taller figure could be Rosaleen. She bore the Blackwood colours, her hair as dark as the raven of their sigil, her bearing sharp enough to suggest wit even from a distance. But something about the way she carried herself, unguarded and unapologetic, gave him pause.

The clink of metal broke his thoughts as Ser Willis stepped to his side, his voice low and measured. “Lady Alysanne Blackwood, Your Grace,” he murmured, as if sensing his prince’s unspoken question.

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line. So, not Rosaleen. But her cousin, a Blackwood nonetheless, and one who seemed to embody every tale he’d ever heard of their infamous fire and sharp tongues.

“And your betrothed’s cousin, Arianne Piper.”

He gave one nod in appreciation to Ser Willis as the man stepped back, one hand laid on his sword at his hip, always.

Alysanne’s voice carried as she spoke, her tone biting and laced with amusement. “Well, he is certainly not wasting any time. Do you think he has the gall to actually meet her without sneering?”

Arianne’s gentler voice followed, tinged with unease. “You oughtn’t speak so boldly, Aly. He is a prince, your future cousin by marriage.”

“And that entitles him to what? My silence? My admiration?” Alysanne scoffed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “I’ll grant him none of it. Not after what’s happened to our home.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he listened. He stepped forward into their line of sight, his tall figure casting a shadow down the corridor.

Both women froze, Alysanne’s expression shifting to one of defiance while Arianne’s cheeks flushed in alarm. Aemond’s eye fixed on them, cold.

“Lady Alysanne,” he said smoothly, his voice low and controlled. “Your honesty is refreshing, though perhaps misplaced.”

Alysanne did not flinch, though her chin lifted ever so slightly. “Honesty is all I have to offer, Your Grace. I assumed your court would value that over flattery.”

Arianne stepped forward hastily, her voice trembling slightly as she dipped into a curtsy. “Forgive us, Your Grace. We meant no offence.”

We.

He wondered how often this flame-haired beauty felt the need to apologise for her fierce cousin’s behaviour.

Aemond’s sharp gaze flicked between the two women. Alysanne’s defiance was palpable, but it was Arianne who sought to smooth the air, her curtsy deep, her clear eyes cast downward in a show of humility. Yet it was neither of them that truly occupied his thoughts.

Rosaleen. 

She was the reason these women were here, the reason he would soon be tied to the Riverlands by bonds thicker than blood or steel. The woman he had not yet met but who would soon bear his name, his burdens, and perhaps one day, his heirs.

“Offence is not so easily forgiven,” Aemond said coolly, tilting his head toward Alysanne. “Though I suspect you care little for forgiveness, Lady Alysanne. Do you presume to speak for your cousin as well?”

“Rosaleen speaks for herself, Your Grace, when she deems it necessary. You’ll find her no less honest, though perhaps less direct than I.”

Ser Willis cleared his throat, the sound deliberate and firm, cutting through the lingering tension. It was not quite an order, but it carried the weight of one, the subtle assertion of a man who knew when a conversation had run its course.

“Lady Alysanne, Lady Arianne, it was...enlightening to make your acquaintance.”

Alicent could think of few moments in the Keep as of late that she was truly, truly at rest. Even her baths were monitored closely by maidservants. That is until she flicked her wrist, and ordered that they leave her be, which they would begrudgingly.

Even in the confines of her chambers, she never truly felt calm. Hadn't, since the day Helaena flung herself from Maegor’s Holdfast. The same day she assumed her second son had also perished.

It was one of the darkest days of her young life. Thinking she had outlived all her children.

The Dowager Queen had barely seen Lady Rosaleen off at her chambers before a knock came at hers. Three knocks, the first two close together, to let her know without words who it was.

She sighed internally, hearing it click open, pulled by some imaginary thread towards pouring herself a cup of wine.

“Not now, Lord Larys. I am weary after greeting our guest.”

The door clung shut behind him, and she heard the familiar step and drag of his two mismatched feet. “I would not disturb you without cause, Your Grace. Yet there are matters that cannot wait.”

Alicent turned to face him, her expression carefully composed, the wine momentarily forgotten. “Matters of the council, I presume.”

“Indeed, Your Grace. The realm demands much of us still. The prince remains...steadfast in his temper.”

"Steadfast, is it? A polite way of saying unruly, no doubt.”

He was neither stupid nor brave enough to respond. Offering an opinion such as that would no doubt place a target on his back, as if there were not already one.

“Rosaleen Blackwood,” he started, “her retinue are...spirited. Particularly her cousin, Lady Alysanne. The young lady has a tongue as sharp as a blade and little hesitation in wielding it.”

Alicent closed her eyes briefly, rubbing at her temple. “Yes, I noticed that myself. And the other cousin? Lady Arianne?”

“Pleasant. Unassuming. Hardly a threat,” Larys replied with a dismissive nod. “But Lady Alysanne, she may prove disruptive, particularly to Prince Aemond’s already volatile disposition. Forgive my saying so, but a prince who scorched their homeland does not yet need the bite of those who hang such crimes over his head.”

Alicent exhaled slowly. “How best do we keep an eye on them? I doubt Alysanne will respond to subtlety.”

“No, Your Grace,” Larys agreed, his tone almost amused. “But the Lady Rosaleen...she is practical, I have heard so. Influencing her may, in turn, temper her cousin’s brazenness. The girl has loyalty to her kin, yes, but she is not blind to the realities of the court.”

 “I will not have her or her kin stoking his fire.. Keep watch over them, all of them.”

His crooked form bowed slightly. Alicent had not forgotten the loyalties of a man who kept Aegon and Jaehaera safe, if only for a short time. And men such as this, expected to be praised and repaid for such acts of simple kindness.

Lord Larys nodded. “You may leave such matters to me.”

The Red Keep was as much a maze simply following a person as she imagined it would be by herself. In future, she would have to explore it with companions, she thought with distaste. If there was anything Rosaleen Blackwood hated more, it was feeling out of place, stuck seemingly perpetually in a state of not having her bearings. 

She did not know how to feel when the Dowager Queen told her that she would be occupying the former Queen Helaena’s chambers. Though the Keep in general was cold, it felt much more so in those rooms than it did anywhere else, she half expected her sweet, ghostly whisper at any second. How would she be able to sleep? The thought had just occurred to her. 

Everything in that space had smelled faintly of cloves, as if someone had been there trying to mask the stench of distress. To erase the tragedy of what had happened. 

But she as well as anyone in the realm could not escape the tragedy that had somehow squeezed itself into a mere quick war. It felt so intense and unending at the time. But now, when she casts her mind back to those moments, she realises that a mere half year felt like a lifetime, and was faster for others than some.

She wonders. Did it feel hasty to Prince Aemond? Or did he feel as if it were over in a heartbeat?

Such questions were not suitable for someone who was merely betrothed to him. She would save such conversations once she assumed the title of his wife. 

If she would ever reach those heights.

It was not lost on her how quickly Alysanne had voiced her apparent displeasure. Arianne had been quick to tell Rosaleen of their cousin’s quick tongue in the very presence of Aemond himself. She found herself rolling her eyes and wanting to cast it aside, but knew, realistically, that there was a conversation to be had with her fearsome Blackwood cousin, and how quickly her wit would have to cut ties with her mouth, especially in the presence of the future Prince Regent no less.

Such thoughts did not plague her mind yet. As she stared at the back of Lord Jasper Wylde’s head, following him aimlessly to meet her betrothed, she could not find it in herself to think of anything else but the Targaryen prince she would come to meet.

Of course, Arianne, Alysanne and a distant Piper cousin, Sarra, who was very much known even to Arianne herself, followed behind. Heads bowed, as if they felt they had already done a disservice to their future Queen Consort.

Titles, titles, titles. Rosaleen grimaced at the mere thought.

Just as she overheard Alysanne giggle when Arianne asked her in a luckily hushed manner why Jasper Wylde was nicknamed ‘ironrod’, the much rumoured Lord turned and inclined his head. 

“Prince Aemond awaits, my Lady.”

She inhaled deeply, measured. As if to fill herself with courage. Rosaleen straightened, her hands smoothing the dark fabric of her gown. She had never been one for nerves, but there was something about the idea of facing him, finally, that set her pulse quickening, despite herself.

As she stepped forward, she almost questioned herself. Lord Wylde had not referred to him as ‘prince regent’. Several times now. The deep, mysterious mist that shrouded Aemond began to become clear, if not entirely by how one member of his council had referred to him.

Beyond the threshold, where stone became grass and flowers, Aemond stood near the edge of a small courtyard, the gardens stretching behind him in a cascade of greens and blooms that stood in stark contrast to his dark, brooding presence.

So the stories were true, she thought with intrigue. Moonlight hair, tall, hands tucked behind his back as if keeping some great secret in his stance. 

The air seemed to thicken with each step she took toward him, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her chest.

Aemond turned at her approach, his violet eye fixating on her with an intensity that made her heart skip. His face was a map of old battles, his gaze unyielding but not unkind. Perhaps merely distant. She schooled her mannerisms well, trying to not flicker between his seeing eye and the leather eyepatch. Attempting to appear as if it was quite normal, and that she was not at all fascinated.

His features were chiselled, sharp as a blade, and though his expression remained unreadable, there was something in the set of his jaw that told her he was measuring her, much like she was doing to him.

“Your Grace,” she greeted, inclining her head just slightly in a respectful, if not overly formal, manner.

“Lady Rosaleen,” Aemond replied, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of authority. The way he said her name sent an odd shiver down her spine, though it wasn’t unpleasant. She couldn’t quite place why, but there was something both unsettling and strangely comforting about him. Perhaps it was the contrast of the man, so feared, so full of war, with the gentleness that lingered in his voice.

She couldn’t imagine him riding a dragon, barking out orders, with a voice like that.

His eye did one sweep of her body, before returning to her dark eyes once more.

“Shall we,” he uttered plainly, glancing at Lord Wylde, who promptly took the hint, bowed his head and turned on his heel.

His tone made it clear it was not a suggestion, so Rosaleen turned to her ladies and nodded, watching as Arianne gave her a nervous look, pulling Alysanne and Sarra back with her without words. Following twenty paces behind as the Blackwood Lady settled into step beside her betrothed.

“I thank you for welcoming me into your home, Your Grace. My greeting has been much appreciated,” she uttered, hands clasped, crimson skirts brushing the grass she glided across the blades. She could not read his expression at all, and very rarely did she see his gaze ever meet hers.

“Of course,” Aemond replied, his tone formal but distant. “It is only fitting that we should meet in person before…” 

“It is,” she agreed simply, offering no more than was required. Silence stretched between them for a moment before he, perhaps foolishly, broke it.

“And your journey?” he asked, his voice low, but the question felt oddly out of place. She saw the faint flicker of realisation in his eye as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was too late to take them back.

Rosaleen allowed herself a small, wry smile, though her tone remained courteous. “Uneventful, Your Grace,” she responded, “my ladies–my cousins, Alysanne and Arianne are good companions.”

Aemond’s expression did not change, though a flicker of memory stirred in his mind. Aegon had once dubbed the Blackwood daughters ‘the Blackwood bitches,’ a crude remark he’d made with a sneer while recounting the Blackwoods’ initial allegiance to Rhaenyra. Aegon’s words, though meant to be dismissive, had a venom that lingered, a reflection of his disdain for those who had dared oppose him. Aemond had said nothing at the time, but now, the memory returned with a faint, bitter taste.

“Good companions are a blessing on such a journey,” he added. “Though I imagine the roads you travelled were less than welcoming.”

Rosaleen nodded slightly, her smile never faltering. “The scars of war are hard to miss, even from a carriage window, Your Grace. But they remind us of what has been endured, and what must be rebuilt.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened slightly at her response, though whether it was irritation, guilt, or something else entirely, she could not say. He did not speak for a moment, as if weighing her words, or perhaps his own. 

Finally, he replied, “Rebuilding is no easy task. Nor one without cost.”

“No,” Rosaleen agreed. “But it is necessary all the same.”

Their conversation lingered in a strange, tense balance, both polite and edged with something unspoken. Whatever judgments they had drawn of one another, neither was willing to reveal just yet. For now, they walked on, their words measured, each step drawing them closer to a union neither had chosen but both were forced to navigate.

“It is a kindness to meet the man I am to wed, rather than relying solely on tales spun by courtiers and whisperers.”

“And what tales have you heard?” Aemond asked, his voice dipping lower, almost testing.

Rosaleen met his gaze at last, her own expression unreadable. “Stories travel, Your Grace. They tend to grow in the telling. Some speak of a swordsman without equal, a man with fire in his veins and the blood of dragons.” Her tone remained even, but her words carried a weight that suggested she had heard much more than she was willing to say.

“And others?” Aemond prompted.

“Others speak of a man who has faced more trials than most could endure. A man shaped by loss, fire, and war.”

There was a pause, her words lingering in the air between them, before she added, “but I prefer to form my own opinions, Your Grace.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, and for the first time, she thought she caught a glimpse of something behind the mask he wore, a flicker of intrigue, perhaps even approval.

“Wise,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “It is better not to trust tales.”

“Or first impressions,” Rosaleen countered lightly, though not without its undercurrent.

They came to a halt before the towering Weirwood, its red leaves rustling faintly in the breeze like a thousand whispering voices. Its face was solemn and ageless, its crimson sap trailing like ancient tears. Rosaleen’s gaze lingered on the carved eyes, so stark and knowing, and for a moment, she felt herself drawn back to Raventree Hall, to the looming Weirwood there that had stood sentinel over her family for generations.

She remembered her home, the mossy stones of its walls, the echo of crows in the twilight. She felt the roots of who she was, who she had always been, stir within her. A lady of her bloodline was meant to endure, to hold fast, as her ancestors had, and that realisation warmed her.

Her blood seemed to hotten, the faint flush of color rising to her cheeks. She squared her shoulders, her chin lifting slightly as she turned her attention back to Aemond. He stood a step apart from her, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression inscrutable. 

Did he see it as she did, she wondered, or did he view it as merely another relic of the past, its significance swallowed by his Targaryen pride?

“Let us speak plainly,” she replied, tilting her chin slightly in challenge. “We are to be married, and while I may not have chosen this alliance, I intend to make the best of it. Let us not dance around the subject like nervous suitors.”

Aemond turned his head sharply at her words, his violet eye narrowing as if weighing her challenge. The breeze stirred the skin, and the soft rustle of the Weirwood leaves seemed to echo the tension between them. For a moment, he did not speak, his gaze steady and piercing as it settled fully on her.

“Plain speech,” he said at last, his tone even but edged with something unreadable. “A rarity in court, and yet, it seems, a virtue among the Blackwoods.”

Rosaleen’s lips tightened into a faint, controlled line at his response, the shift in her demeanor subtle but unmistakable. It was not anger, not entirely, but a flicker of discontent that she made no effort to conceal. 

“And Your Grace would rather I lie?”

“I do not require appreciation for honesty, Lady Rosaleen. I value its utility.”

A brush of wind came against her skirts, the crimson fabric shifting like rippling blood. “Utility. Yes, that does seem the way, does it not?” she said, “might you tell me what utility the Riverlands offered?”

Aemond’s eye darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing over his face. “The Riverlands held loyalty to my enemies. War is not fought with pen and parchment, words are wind. And such war demands sacrifice.”

“You dare school me on sacrifice, Your Grace,” she countered, “I have walked through the ruin. Have smelled the burning flesh and seen the sky darken with ash and death.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he did not interrupt, his eye locked on hers with an intensity that seemed to draw the very air taut between them.

“I am to be your wife,” she continued, her voice unyielding. “To stand beside you and call myself your queen in waiting, your partner and your ally in securing my homeland to your cause. To your realm. I have seen sacrifice as clearly as I see you now and I wish never to see it at that measure again.”

Aemond’s gaze did not falter, his expression unreadable. His hands clasped behind his back once more, his posture as rigid as stone.

“You are bold, Lady Rosaleen,” he said at last, his voice cold as the chill of a winter wind. “Bold enough to speak to me thus. Bold enough to be my wife. Perhaps that is why you were chosen. Other’s tongues cut too freely, and the court may find that less tolerable. But you tread carefully, even when you push.”

“I tread carefully,” she replied, her voice steady, “because I must. Not all of us are born with dragons, Your Grace. I merely have my words.”

“He said WHAT?!”

Rosaleen rolled her eyes as the maidservant assigned to her pulled at the fastenings of her dress. The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, and only the dim flicker of candlelight lit the room. Alysanne sat laid back on the chaise, one cup of red wine cradled between her fingers.

Arianne was already abed in her chambers, having not slept the entire journey earlier that morning.

It seemed a lifetime ago now. Meeting Aemond Targaryen seemed to have the effect of several days worth of effort.

“He said that I was bold,” she admitted dryly. “And that perhaps I was bold enough to be his wife.”

Alysanne nearly spat her wine. “Bold?” she repeated, incredulous. “Bold enough to marry him? What does that even mean?”

She waved her hand dismissively when the maidservant attempted to plait her hair, wanting to do it herself. “Perhaps I was supposed to take it as a compliment.”

Alysanne giggled, sitting up, a bit weary and slurred from the wine, “Bold enough to be my wife,” she mimicked, her voice pitched low in a mocking imitation of Aemond. “It is typical. He burns half the realm to ash and still thinks he’s the one doing you a favour.”

Rosaleen snorted, “out, Aly. I must undress.”

With a dramatic sigh and flailing hand movements dragged to her feet, “very well, cousin. Good day.”

Rosaleen watched as Alysanne stumbled from her chamber, carrying the oak door with it with a thud. She glances over at the maidservant, who prepares the bed, noting the mortified expression on her face before she quickly lowered her eyes.

“Do not mind my cousin,” Rosaleen says softly, “she might have been a drunken widowed lord in another life.”

The maidservant’s lips twitched, though she quickly suppressed the smile, her hands smoothing over the freshly turned sheets. “Yes, my lady,” she murmured, keeping her gaze respectfully averted as she finished her task.

Rosaleen sat upon the chaise her cousin had just vacated. It was nice to have family in such a strange place like this, yes. But she observed this girl in the Keep’s employ, barely eight and ten by her eyes. So young.

“What is your name?”

The maidservant hesitated, her hands pausing mid-motion as if uncertain whether the question was truly directed at her. “It’s Lyla, my lady,” she answered softly, her gaze flickering upward before quickly returning to her work.

“Lyla,” Rosaleen repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “How long have you served here at the Red Keep?”

“Since I was twelve, my lady,” Lyla replied, folding the edge of a blanket with careful precision.

“Twelve?” Rosaleen echoed, a note of disbelief in her voice. “So young.”

Lyla’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it did not reach her eyes. “The Keep doesn’t care much for age, my lady. Only that the work is done.”

Rosaleen studied the girl for a moment, noting the faint weariness in her eyes that seemed far beyond her years. It was not so different from the look she had seen in her own reflection of late. “Do you have family still within the Keep?”

“My younger brother works with the stable hands,” Lyla said, her voice softening slightly, as though the mention of him offered her some small comfort. “But the rest of my family remains in the Reach.”

Rosaleen nodded, leaning back slightly against the chaise. “It must be difficult, being so far from them.”

“It is, my lady,” Lyla admitted, her hands stilling briefly. “But the Red Keep has its own…rhythm. You learn to live with it.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with an unspoken understanding. Rosaleen could not help but wonder if she, too, would learn to live with the rhythm of this place. Would it shape her as it had shaped this young girl, or would she remain an outsider, always at odds with the walls that enclosed her?

Rosaleen’s gaze drifted toward the flickering candlelight, her thoughts spinning with the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. Her voice, when it came, was casual, light enough to mask her true curiosity. “Tell me, Lyla… what do you know of Prince Aemond?”

Lyla hesitated, her hands brushing over the edge of the fabric she had just smoothed. “Not much, my lady,” she replied carefully, as though wary of overstepping. “I am not among his attendants, nor do I often see him.”

Rosaleen was silent, but her dark eyes spoke everything she was thinking. That she wanted to know more, even if it came as gossip. It was more than she felt she knew about the man anyway.

The maidservant hesitated again, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her apron. “Before the war, he was rarely within the Keep at all,” she admitted finally, her voice low as though sharing a secret. “He would come and go as needed, but he was…absent, for the most part.”

“Absent?” Rosaleen repeated, her brows drawing together. “And where would he go, if not here?”

“I couldn’t say for certain, my lady,” she murmured, though her tone was evasive.

Rosaleen leaned forward slightly, her sharp gaze pinning Lyla in place. “You have heard rumors, then.”

Lyla shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing faintly. “It isn’t my place to speak on such intimate matters, my lady,” she said quickly, but the words only served to confirm Rosaleen’s suspicions.

Her lips thinned, though she maintained a neutral expression. “I see,” she said evenly, though the insinuation hung heavy in the air between them.

Brothels. It was not so uncommon a practice for men of his station, and yet the thought of Aemond Targaryen, this cold, distant prince, indulging in such pleasures was oddly jarring. It painted a picture of a man more complex, more contradictory, than she had anticipated.

She was strangely unsurprised. 

Her own father had visited such pleasure houses when her mother passed, and made no secret of it. As many lords, princes and kings would do so for the rest of time.

“Thank you, Lyla,” Rosaleen said after a moment, her tone quieter now. “You may go.”

The maidservant dipped into another curtsy, clearly relieved to be dismissed. There was something about Lyla that at this time Rosaleen could not pinpoint. Perhaps it was the way she spoke. The way she stood, visibly anxious.

Rosaleen’s dark eyes lingered on the closed door, her thoughts turning over the maidservant’s carefully chosen words. What would this mean for their marriage? She doubted she would ever truly know.

Aemond’s facade was like a suit of armor, meticulously crafted and nearly impenetrable. He wore it with ease, a shield against prying eyes and unwanted intimacy. Yet beneath it, she sensed something more, a volatile edge, sharp enough to draw blood if she dared to press too hard.

Their earlier conversation lingered in her mind, the weight of his words and the tension that had crackled between them. He had made it clear, if she bared her claws, he would not hesitate to strike back.

And yet…she couldn’t help but wonder, her thoughts skimming a dangerous edge. What would it feel like, that bite? The sharp sting of his retort, the fire behind his gaze, the unspoken challenge in every measured word.

Indeed, how sharp were his claws? How violent the bite? Would he let go once he had the prey in his mouth, until he felt the blood coat his teeth and their hearts fluttering to a stop like the spasming wings of a dying butterfly?

She smiled to herself, drawing her resolve from all the Blackwood women who came before her.

She was no butterfly. She was a raven. Watchful. Patient. And she would meet his bite with her own.

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[novaursa]

To Win a Princess (fire and gold)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You. 

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Be aware of the time jumps. This is the last part of the story. Between Pride and Fire will take its posting schedule.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for blood and gore)

- Previous part: son's choice

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

The morning sun sneaked weakly through the stained-glass windows of the solar at Casterly Rock, casting fragmented light onto the table where Tyland sat. His brows furrowed as he read the missive in his hands, the wax seal of the Hand of the King—Otto Hightower—already broken. The contents of the letter were audacious, to say the least, and the weight of them settled heavily on his shoulders.

You entered moments later, your gown sweeping softly against the stone floor. The expression on Tyland’s face immediately caught your attention, a mixture of frustration and calculation.

“What is it?” you asked, crossing the room to stand beside him. “You look like you’ve just swallowed something sour.”

Tyland exhaled slowly, handing you the parchment. “It’s from Otto Hightower.”

You took it with a frown, scanning the contents quickly. As you read, your face darkened, your fingers tightening around the edges of the paper.

“An alliance,” you said, your voice cold. “And yet again, he proposes that Rhaella marry Aemond.”

Tyland leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes studying you carefully. “It seems Otto hasn’t given up on securing the Westerlands. He sees Rhaella as a key to solidifying their claim.”

You threw the parchment onto the table with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Aemond killed Luke,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger. “He killed my nephew, Tyland. And now Otto dares to propose this… this farce of an alliance? After taking my sister’s throne? It’s an insult.”

Tyland reached for your hand, his touch gentle but grounding. “I know how you feel,” he said softly. “But we need to think carefully about how to respond. Otto wouldn’t send this without a reason.”

“His reason is obvious,” you snapped, pulling your hand away as you began to pace. “He wants to divide us. To pull the Westerlands away from Rhaenyra’s cause and strengthen Aegon’s. He sees Rhaella as a pawn—a tool to secure his power.”

Tyland watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And he’s not entirely wrong. Rhaella’s marriage would hold significant sway over the Westerlands.”

You stopped mid-step, turning to glare at him. “You’re not seriously considering this.”

He shook his head, his tone calm but firm. “Of course not. But dismissing it outright could have consequences. Otto is playing a game, and we need to ensure that our response doesn’t put us in a weaker position.”

Your voice rose, the anger bubbling to the surface. “A weaker position? Tyland, we’re already at war because of Otto Hightower’s schemes! He has no honor, no loyalty. If we even entertain this, it’s a betrayal of everything we’ve fought for.”

“I agree,” Tyland said, standing and crossing the room to meet you. “But we can’t afford to act rashly. Rejecting Otto outright may provoke him into retaliating, and the Westerlands aren’t invulnerable.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling with frustration. “How can you be so calm about this? He’s asking us to marry our daughter to the man who murdered my nephew. The man who defies the very legacy of my family. Of your family now, too.”

Tyland’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “Because I have to be calm, Y/N. For you, for our children, for our House. I understand your anger—I feel it too. But anger won’t win us this war.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I won’t let them take Rhaella, Tyland.”

“And they won’t,” he promised, his voice steady. “But we need to send a response that makes our position clear without inviting retaliation. Let me handle this.”

You hesitated, your heart torn between anger and trust. Finally, you nodded, though your voice remained firm. “Make it clear, Tyland. Make it clear that House Lannister stands with Rhaenyra. That we will not forgive Luke’s death or the theft of my sister’s throne. And that Rhaella will never marry Aemond.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I will. You have my word.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the decision settling over you. Outside, the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs filled the air, a reminder of the world beyond the walls of Casterly Rock—a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

Finally, Tyland returned to the table, picking up a fresh piece of parchment and reaching for his quill. As he began to write, you watched him, your heart heavy but resolute. You had fought too hard and lost too much to let Otto Hightower’s schemes tear your family apart.

The response would be swift, direct, and unyielding. The Westerlands were no one’s pawn, and House Lannister would not be bought.

The sky above Rook’s Rest was a chaotic swirl of fire and smoke, the once-quiet fields below transformed into a battlefield of roaring dragons and clashing steel. The sun had barely risen when Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond sprung their trap, their dragons—Sunfyre and Vhagar���descending from the heavens like twin harbingers of doom. The ground trembled beneath their might, and atop the castle walls, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen mounted her scarlet-scaled dragon, Meleys, preparing to meet their challenge.

But she was not alone.

Out of the western sky came a roar that sent shivers through the assembled forces below. Valtyr, his green-and-gold scales glinting like precious metal, soared into the fray with a ferocious cry. Upon his back, Loren Lannister gripped the reins tightly, his golden hair whipping in the wind. He descended swiftly to join Rhaenys, the younger dragon circling the larger, battle-scarred Meleys like a loyal vassal.

“You shouldn’t be here, boy!” Rhaenys called over the roar of the wind, her voice sharp but not unkind.

“I’m not leaving you to face them alone!” Loren shouted back, his voice resolute. “This is my fight too!”

Rhaenys gave a grim smile, nodding once. “Then stay close and do as I say. We finish this together.”

The dragons roared in unison as the battle commenced. Sunfyre, with his golden scales gleaming in the early light, lunged toward Meleys, his jaws snapping with deadly intent. But the Red Queen was swift, twisting mid-air and lashing out with her claws. The sound of tearing flesh echoed through the sky as Meleys raked Sunfyre’s flank, dark blood spilling like eclipsed sunlight.

Loren and Valtyr dove toward Aegon, who clung desperately to his saddle as Sunfyre reeled from the attack. The younger dragon unleashed a torrent of flame, the green fire licking at Sunfyre’s wings. Aegon bellowed in pain as the heat seared his armor, and Sunfyre faltered, his once-majestic form reduced to a struggling shadow of its former glory.

“Aegon, fall back!” Aemond’s voice boomed from atop Vhagar, his expression twisted with fury. The massive she-dragon surged forward, her ancient wings beating with a thunderous rhythm.

“Not yet!” Aegon roared back, his pride outweighing his pain. But his defiance was short-lived as Meleys struck again, her claws slamming into Sunfyre’s side and sending him plummeting toward the earth.

Aegon screamed as his dragon crashed into the fields below, the impact shaking the ground and scattering soldiers like ants. Meleys circled above, her roar a triumphant challenge, but there was no time to celebrate. Vhagar, older and far more massive, let out a deafening roar and lunged for her.

“Loren, now!” Rhaenys commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Valtyr shot forward, green flames spewing from his maw as he closed the distance to Vhagar. The older dragon turned, her massive jaws snapping inches from Valtyr’s tail. Loren clung to his saddle, the heat and smoke stinging his eyes as he urged his dragon to climb higher, forcing Vhagar to follow.

“She’s too big!” Loren called out, his voice tight with effort. “We need to outmaneuver her!”

“Keep her focused on you!” Rhaenys replied, guiding Meleys into a flanking position. “I’ll strike where it hurts!”

Vhagar roared again, her ancient fury unmatched as she chased Valtyr through the smoke-filled sky. But Meleys was faster, her crimson wings a blur as she swooped beneath Vhagar, raking her belly with a savage strike. Vhagar bellowed in pain, her massive body twisting mid-air to retaliate.

Claws tore through the sky as the three dragons clashed, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Blood and scales rained down like grisly confetti, the once-blue sky streaked with fire and ash. Loren’s heart pounded as Valtyr narrowly avoided another devastating snap of Vhagar’s jaws, the young dragon twisting and diving with desperate agility.

“Hold on!” Loren shouted to himself, his knuckles white as he gripped the reins.

Below, Aemond snarled, his single eye blazing with rage as he guided Vhagar into another attack. “You’ll pay for this, boy!” he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din. “You and that wretched crone!”

Loren’s gaze hardened, his fear replaced by a surge of determination. “Come and try!” he shouted back.

Meleys surged forward again, her claws ripping into Vhagar’s wing. The ancient dragon roared in fury, her massive body buckling mid-air as blood gushed from the wound. But even wounded, Vhagar was a force to be reckoned with. With a final, deafening roar, she lunged forward, her massive weight slamming into both Meleys and Valtyr.

The impact was catastrophic. All three dragons became a tangle of wings, claws, and fire, their riders clinging desperately to their saddles as they plummeted toward the earth. Loren felt the air leave his lungs as Valtyr let out a pained shriek, his body twisting uncontrollably.

“Hold on!” Rhaenys’ voice reached him, her tone frantic.

The ground rushed toward them, the world a blur of chaos and destruction. Loren tightened his grip, his heart pounding as he prayed to the gods for a miracle. Around him, the sky seemed to collapse, fire and smoke consuming everything in its path.

And then came the crash.

The impact was deafening, the earth trembling beneath the weight of the fallen dragons. Dust and debris filled the air, the cries of men and beasts mingling in a cacophony of terror. Loren coughed, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him.

The world came back into focus sharply for Loren with a blinding pain in his head and a metallic taste in his mouth. He blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to steady as the ground beneath him swayed. Smoke filled the air, and the roars of dragons battling nearby were deafening, their cries reverberating across the desolate field.

When his vision cleared, he saw him. Aemond Targaryen, limping slightly but charging forward with a sword gleaming in his hand. His face was a mask of fury, the sapphire set in his empty eye socket glinting with malevolence. Blood streaked down his armor, and his pale hair was matted with soot and gore.

“You’ve overstepped, boy!” Aemond roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Now you’ll pay the price for your insolence!”

Loren scrambled to his feet, his body aching from the fall, and drew his sword—a finely crafted Lannister blade with a roaring lion etched into the hilt. His dragon, Valtyr, was somewhere in the distance, locked in a deadly struggle alongside Meleys against the massive form of Vhagar. The clash of claws and teeth rang out like thunder, but Loren’s focus was solely on the man bearing down on him.

“I’ll pay no price to a kinslayer!” Loren spat, steadying himself as Aemond closed the gap.

Aemond lunged, his sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. Loren parried just in time, the force of the blow sending vibrations up his arms. Aemond was relentless, his strikes coming fast and sharp, each one pushing Loren further back.

“You think you’re my equal?” Aemond sneered, pressing forward with another brutal swing. “You’re a cub playing at war!”

Loren gritted his teeth, ducking beneath the next strike and countering with a slash aimed at Aemond’s side. The blade bit into the prince’s armor, drawing blood, but Aemond barely flinched. Instead, he laughed—a cold, mirthless sound.

“You have fire,” Aemond said mockingly, his sapphire eye gleaming. “But fire alone won’t save you.”

Their swords clashed again, sparks flying as steel met steel. Loren’s arms ached with the effort of blocking Aemond’s powerful strikes, but he refused to give ground. He could feel the heat of the nearby battle, the earth trembling beneath the weight of the dragons’ struggle.

“You killed Luke!” Loren shouted, his voice raw with fury. “You killed my cousin, and you dare speak of fire?”

“Luke was weak,” Aemond snarled, his strikes growing more vicious. “A boy who couldn’t rise above his weakness. He deserved his fate.”

Loren roared, his anger fueling his movements as he pushed back against Aemond’s assault. He swung with all his might, his blade slicing across Aemond’s shoulder and drawing a spray of blood. Aemond staggered, but his grin only widened.

“Good,” Aemond hissed, blood dripping from his wound. “Show me the lion’s bite.”

Loren lunged again, his strikes faster now, driven by the memory of Luke and the injustice that had brought them to this moment. But Aemond was experienced, his movements fluid as he parried and countered with precision. Their blades locked, and Loren found himself face to face with his uncle, their breaths ragged.

“You’ll never be one of us,” Aemond growled, his voice low and venomous. “You’re no dragon—you’re just a lion cub pretending to roar.”

Loren gritted his teeth, twisting his blade free and delivering a sharp kick to Aemond’s knee. The prince stumbled, giving Loren a brief opening. He swung his sword, the blade carving a shallow gash across Aemond’s chest.

Aemond snarled, his fury evident as he retaliated with a brutal backhanded strike. The hilt of his sword caught Loren across the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Stars exploded in his vision as he tasted blood, but he refused to stay down.

With a groan, Loren rolled to his feet just as Aemond bore down on him. The prince’s blade sliced through the air, grazing Loren’s arm and leaving a deep gash. Blood poured from the wound, staining his tunic and dripping onto the ground.

“You’re finished!” Aemond roared, raising his sword for a killing blow.

But Loren wasn’t done. Summoning every ounce of strength, he surged forward, his sword driving upward in a desperate strike. The blade pierced Aemond’s side, the sound of metal slicing through flesh mingling with the prince’s cry of pain.

Aemond staggered back, clutching the wound as blood seeped between his fingers. His eye burned with hatred, but his movements were slower now, his strength waning.

Loren raised his blade, breathing heavily. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through him. “For Luke. For all of us.”

Aemond smirked through the blood staining his lips. “We’ll see about that, boy.”

Before Loren could strike again, the ground shook violently as the dragons’ battle reached a fever pitch. A deafening roar split the air, and Loren turned to see Valtyr and Meleys locked in a final, desperate struggle with Vhagar. The three dragons tumbled from the sky, their massive forms crashing into the field with a sound like thunder.

The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield, knocking both Loren and Aemond to the ground. Loren’s vision blurred as the dust and debris clouded the air, but he forced himself to rise, his gaze fixed on the wreckage of wings and fire.

The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Smoke thickened the air, and the crash of the dragons’ fall left the earth trembling. The clash of claws and teeth echoed across the bloodied field as Valtyr and Meleys struggled against Vhagar, the ancient she-dragon’s ferocity unmatched. In the distance, Aemond and Loren still stood, battered and bloodied, their duel momentarily halted as both stared at the carnage.

And then, another roar tore through the sky—a sound like a clarion call, fierce and unrelenting. All heads turned skyward as Rhaella Targaryen descended on her sleek, sapphire-scaled dragon, Aelirys, his wings cutting through the smoky air like a blade.

Rhaella’s voice rang out, strong and defiant, even over the chaos. “For Luke! For Rhaenyra!”

Her words galvanized the field as Aelirys dove into the fray, his sapphire flames pouring over Vhagar’s side. The larger dragon bellowed in rage, her massive form twisting to face this new threat. Blood already streaked her scales from her struggle with Meleys and Valtyr, but she showed no sign of yielding.

“Rhaella, no!” Loren shouted, his voice cracking with panic. “Stay back!”

But Rhaella was undeterred, her violet eyes blazing with fury. “You need me, Loren! You all do!”

She spurred Aelirys forward, the smaller dragon weaving nimbly through Vhagar’s attempts to swat him from the sky. The clash of dragons intensified as Aelirys struck with his claws, raking deep wounds along Vhagar’s flank. The ancient dragon roared, her massive tail swinging like a battering ram and narrowly missing Meleys, who retaliated with a savage bite to Vhagar’s neck.

Below, Loren turned back to Aemond, his grip tightening on his sword. “It’s over, Aemond,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. “You’ve lost.”

Aemond smirked, blood dripping from his mouth as he raised his sword. “Lost? Look around you, boy. This is only the beginning.”

With a roar, Aemond lunged, their blades clashing once more. Loren fought with renewed determination, his strikes fueled by the sight of his sister joining the battle above. The clang of steel rang out as the two young men exchanged blow after blow, their movements growing more desperate and brutal.

Above them, the dragons’ fight reached a fever pitch. Aelirys and Valtyr worked in tandem, the younger dragons striking at Vhagar’s exposed sides while Meleys kept her jaws locked on the larger dragon’s neck. Blood poured from Vhagar’s wounds, staining the battlefield below as her roars grew weaker.

“Keep pushing!” Rhaella shouted, her voice fierce as she guided Aelirys into another dive. The blue dragon released a torrent of sapphire flames, the searing heat scorching Vhagar’s already-tattered wings.

But Vhagar was not done. With a final, desperate burst of strength, she twisted her massive body, throwing Meleys off balance. The Red Queen screeched as she tumbled, her rider clinging tightly to her saddle. Valtyr moved to shield her, but Vhagar’s claws raked across his side, leaving deep, bloody gashes.

“Valtyr!” Loren cried out, his heart lurching as his dragon faltered in the air.

Rhaella’s voice cut through his panic. “He’s strong, Loren! Focus!”

Her words steadied him, and he turned back to Aemond, who was breathing heavily, his armor slick with blood. The prince smirked, though his strength was clearly waning. “Your sister has spirit,” Aemond said, his voice taunting. “Shame she’s bound to fall like the rest of your family.”

Loren roared, his sword slashing through the air with renewed vigor. Aemond parried, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling back. “You won’t touch her,” Loren growled, his strikes coming faster now. “You won’t touch any of us!”

Above, Aelirys and Valtyr regrouped, their combined flames engulfing Vhagar in a brilliant blaze. The ancient dragon roared one last time, her movements slowing as her wounds took their toll. Meleys, bloodied but determined, surged forward, her claws sinking into Vhagar’s chest as she drove the larger dragon toward the ground.

Rhaella’s voice rang out again, her tone triumphant. “We have her!”

But Vhagar, even in her death throes, was not to be underestimated. With a final, desperate effort, she lashed out, her massive tail striking Aelirys and sending him spiraling. Rhaella cried out, clutching the reins as her dragon struggled to steady himself.

On the ground, Loren saw his sister’s peril and screamed, “Rhaella!”

Aemond took advantage of his distraction, lunging forward with his sword. The blade sliced across Loren’s side, drawing a deep wound that sent him to his knees. Aemond stood over him, breathing heavily, his violet eye blazing with triumph.

“You’ll die here, boy,” Aemond sneered, raising his blade for the killing blow.

But before he could strike, a shadow passed over them. Valtyr descended like a vengeful spirit, his roar shaking the battlefield as he unleashed a torrent of flame. Aemond barely had time to leap back, the heat singing his armor as he cursed and stumbled.

Loren seized the moment, his hand clutching his sword as he forced himself to his feet. With a roar of his own, he drove the blade forward, piercing Aemond’s side. The prince gasped, blood spilling from the wound as he staggered back.

“You’ll never win,” Loren said, his voice cold as he stepped closer. “Not while we stand.”

Above, Meleys delivered the final blow, her jaws crushing Vhagar’s throat as the ancient dragon fell silent. The battlefield grew quiet, the roars and flames replaced by the crackle of distant fires and the labored breathing of the survivors.

Rhaella guided Aelirys back to the ground, her expression fierce but relieved as she dismounted. She rushed to Loren, who was leaning heavily on his sword, blood staining his armor.

“Loren,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll live,” he replied, his gaze drifting to Aemond, who lay crumpled on the ground, his breaths shallow. “But he won’t forget this.”

Rhaella’s expression hardened, and she nodded. Together, they turned to face the battlefield, the cost of victory heavy on their shoulders.

The morning sun cast a pale light over the scorched and blood-soaked battlefield of Rook’s Rest. The acrid scent of charred flesh and dragonfire lingered in the air, mingling with the cries of wounded soldiers and the low growls of restless dragons. Smoke curled lazily into the sky, a grim reminder of the carnage that had unfolded.

Loren sat slumped against a broken piece of stone, his armor dented and smeared with blood, his breathing labored. His side ached where Aemond's blade had struck, the hastily applied bandages doing little to stem the pain. Nearby, Aemond Targaryen lay barely alive, his once-imposing figure now broken and bloodied. His sword rested a few feet from his limp hand, forgotten in the chaos.

The sound of marching boots echoed through the battlefield as Daemon Targaryen, Jason Lannister, and Corlys Velaryon arrived with their respective forces. The banners of House Velaryon, House Targaryen, and House Lannister fluttered in the breeze, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the devastation around them.

Daemon rode at the forefront, his silver hair glinting in the light as he surveyed the scene. His violet eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Vhagar’s broken form, the fallen Sunfyre, and the wounded Valtyr, Meleys, and Aelirys resting nearby. His expression darkened further when his gaze landed on Loren.

“Loren,” Daemon called as he dismounted, his boots crunching against the ash-strewn ground. “You look like hell.”

Loren managed a weak smile, his voice hoarse. “And yet, I’m still breathing. Can’t say the same for Aegon.”

Daemon’s smirk was fleeting as his gaze shifted to Aemond’s crumpled form. “Aemond’s alive,” he noted coldly, striding toward the wounded prince. “Pity.”

Jason dismounted next, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration. “You reckless fool,” he said, crouching beside Loren. “You could have died.”

“I had to,” Loren said, wincing as he adjusted himself against the stone. “We couldn’t let them win.”

Jason shook his head, his tone softening. “You’re too much like your father. Stubborn to a fault.”

Corlys joined them, his sharp gaze assessing the battlefield. “You held them off long enough for us to arrive. You’ve done well, boy.”

Loren gave a faint nod, his eyes flicking to Aemond. “He’s dangerous. If he lives…”

Daemon interrupted, his voice laced with disdain. “He won’t pose a threat. Not in this state.”

Daemon stood over Aemond, his expression a mixture of contempt and triumph. “You thought yourself invincible, didn’t you, nephew?” he said, his tone mocking. “But even the might of Vhagar couldn’t save you.”

Aemond groaned weakly, his one remaining eye fluttering open to glare at Daemon. “You… haven’t won,” he rasped, blood trickling from his lips. “This… isn’t over.”

Daemon crouched beside him, his smirk cruel. “Oh, but it is, Aemond. Your dragons are dead or dying, your brother is ashes, and you—” he gestured to Aemond’s broken form— “are barely clinging to life. Tell me, where’s your victory now?”

Jason approached, his voice measured. “What do we do with him?”

“Kill him,” Daemon said without hesitation, his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister. “It’s what he deserves.”

“No,” Loren interjected, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. “Not like this.”

Daemon turned, his expression darkening. “He killed your cousin, boy. Do you really think he deserves mercy?”

Loren met his gaze, unflinching. “I’m not saying he deserves it. But killing him now, when he’s defenseless, makes us no better than him.”

Corlys nodded slowly, his tone thoughtful. “The boy has a point. Executing Aemond like this could turn him into a martyr for their cause. It’s a risk we can’t ignore.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he rose, his gaze sweeping the battlefield. “Very well. We’ll take him as a prisoner. But I warn you, Loren—if he becomes a problem, his blood will be on your hands.”

Loren nodded, his resolve unshaken. “I’ll take that chance.”

Jason clapped his nephew on the shoulder, his expression proud. “You’ve got the heart of a lion, Loren. Let’s hope it’s enough.”

As the soldiers moved to secure Aemond, Daemon turned back to the dragons. Meleys stood tall despite her wounds, her blood-red scales streaked with gore. Valtyr rested nearby, his golden-green eyes watching Loren protectively. Aelirys perched on a crumbled tower, her sapphire scales shimmering despite the soot and ash.

“We’ve won the day,” Daemon said, his voice carrying across the field. “But the war is far from over. Gather your strength—we’ll need it.”

Loren leaned back against the stone, his gaze drifting to the sky. The cost of victory weighed heavily on his mind, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of relief. 

The throne room sat heavy under the weight of foreboding, its high ceilings amplifying the silence. Queen Alicent sat rigidly on the Iron Throne, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Beside her, Otto Hightower stood, his face a carefully composed mask, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

The air grew heavier still as a messenger entered, his boots echoing sharply on the stone floor. He carried a scroll bearing a black wax seal, its edges frayed as though it had been handled with haste. Alicent’s gaze snapped to the man, her green eyes sharp as daggers.

“Speak,” she commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The messenger knelt, his voice trembling as he began. “My Queen… news from Rook’s Rest.”

Otto stiffened, stepping closer as Alicent’s fingers dug into the arms of the throne. “What news?” he demanded.

The messenger hesitated, his gaze flicking between the Queen and the Hand. “King Aegon… is dead. His dragon, Sunfyre, is no more. Vhagar… has fallen as well.”

The words hung in the air like a curse, the weight of them crashing down upon the room. Alicent’s breath hitched, her composure wavering as her mind struggled to process the blow.

“And… my other son?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The messenger swallowed hard. “Prince Aemond is alive, Your Grace, but grievously wounded. He is held captive by the Blacks.”

A sharp intake of breath came from Alicent, her mask of control shattering for a moment. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, this cannot be.”

Otto’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the throne as he leaned forward. “How did this happen?” he demanded. “How could two of our greatest dragons and their riders fall?”

“The Blacks had reinforcements,” the messenger explained, his voice trembling. “Prince Daemon and his forces arrived after the initial battle. Lady Rhaenys fought valiantly, as did the young Lord Loren Lannister. Together, they brought down both Sunfyre and Vhagar.”

Otto’s face darkened, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Loren Lannister… the lion cub. Tyland’s boy.”

Alicent’s hands trembled as she gripped the throne, her knuckles white. “And Aemond?” she pressed, her voice cracking. “How badly is he hurt?”

The messenger hesitated, his eyes lowering. “He is said to be barely alive, my Queen. His wounds are severe.”

Alicent let out a shuddering breath, her chest heaving as tears threatened to spill. “My sons,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “My Aegon, my Aemond…”

Otto placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his expression cold and calculating. “We cannot afford to falter now,” he said sharply. “This war is not over.”

Alicent’s gaze snapped to him, her eyes blazing with anger and despair. “My son is dying, Father! My eldest is dead! How can you speak of war when my family is being torn apart?”

Otto’s voice hardened, his tone brooking no argument. “Because we must. Aegon may be gone, but Aemond still lives. We must secure him and rally what remains of our forces. If we show weakness now, Rhaenyra will seize the throne completely.”

Alicent stood abruptly, her composure unraveling as she paced the room. “And what of my son?” she demanded. “Do you truly believe they will spare him? That Daemon will show mercy?”

Otto’s silence spoke volumes, his lips pressing into a thin line. Alicent’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

“We must send word,” she said finally, her voice trembling but resolute. “To retrieve Aemond. Whatever it takes, he must be brought back to us.”

“And if they refuse?” Otto asked, his tone calculated.

Alicent’s gaze hardened, her grief giving way to steel. “Then we will remind them what it means to cross House Hightower.”

The throne room fell silent once more, the weight of the Queen’s words hanging heavily in the air. Outside, the bells of the city tolled mournfully, their somber tones echoing across King’s Landing. 

The battlefield of Tumbleton was chaos—a sprawling tapestry of fire, blood, and betrayal. The flames of dragonfire consumed the once-prosperous town, casting a hellish glow that turned the night into day. Soldiers screamed as they fell, their cries drowned out by the deafening roars of dragons above.

Belerix, your massive dragon circled high, his piercing roar shaking the earth below. His molten eyes scanned the carnage, nostrils flaring as he breathed in the scent of burning wood and flesh. Seated firmly in the saddle, your grip tightened on the reins, your gaze fixed on two figures above: Daeron Targaryen astride his cobalt-blue dragon, Tessarion, and Ulf the White, the traitorous rider of Silverwing.

“Traitors to the throne, both of them,” you spat under your breath, your voice filled with venom.

From the western flank, Addam Velaryon on Seasmoke rose into the skies, the pale-gray dragon's wings cutting through the thick smoke. Below, Lannister forces, led by Jason Lannister himself, surged forward, their crimson and gold banners streaming as they engaged the green loyalist forces in brutal melee combat.

“Addam,” you called, your voice carried by the wind as Belerix flanked Seasmoke. “We’ll take Tessarion together. Jason’s forces can handle the traitors on the ground.”

Addam nodded, his youthful face hardened by the firelight. “Understood. But what about Silverwing?”

Your gaze darkened as you turned toward Ulf the White, his dragon circling menacingly near Tessarion. “Silverwing is mine.”

Addam hesitated for a moment but trusted your resolve. With a sharp command to Seasmoke, he veered toward Tessarion, his dragon’s roar echoing as he descended on Daeron.

Belerix bellowed a challenge, his massive wings propelling you forward as you locked onto Silverwing. Ulf turned just in time to see your approach, his eyes widening as Belerix unleashed a torrent of blue-and-gold flame. Silverwing twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the inferno, but her silver scales were singed, her anguished cry cutting through the chaos.

“Face me, you coward!” you roared, guiding Belerix into a dive.

Ulf snarled, his voice carrying over the wind. “You’re outmatched, Princess! You’ll die like the rest of your family!”

Belerix’s jaws snapped inches from Silverwing’s tail, his claws raking across her flank as the two dragons collided. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, the force nearly unseating you from your saddle. Silverwing shrieked, her blood splattering onto the battlefield below.

Ulf drew his sword, shouting obscenities as he tried to maneuver his dragon. “You think you can stop me? I’ll carve your name into this battlefield!”

“Try it,” you hissed, guiding Belerix into another strike. The massive dragon slammed into Silverwing again, his claws digging into her side as his teeth sought her vulnerable neck.

Below, Addam and Seasmoke engaged Tessarion in a deadly dance. The cobalt-blue dragon twisted and turned, her flames lighting up the sky, but Seasmoke was faster, darting in and out of range with precision strikes. Addam shouted commands, his voice filled with determination as he fought to bring down the younger prince.

Jason’s forces surged through the town, cutting down loyalists and securing key positions. The clang of steel on steel and the cries of dying men filled the air, the ground beneath their feet slick with blood. Jason himself was in the thick of it, his golden armor gleaming as he struck down a charging enemy with a swing of his blade.

Above, Belerix and Silverwing continued their brutal clash. Ulf swung his sword wildly, his strikes falling short as you deftly guided Belerix out of range.

“Enough of this!” you shouted, your voice filled with fury. “Belerix, end it!”

Your dragon roared in response, his massive jaws closing around Silverwing’s neck in a bone-crushing grip. The silver dragon thrashed and screamed, her wings flailing as she struggled to break free. Ulf cursed and shouted, his sword clattering uselessly against Belerix’s armored scales.

With a final, deafening crunch, Belerix severed Silverwing’s throat, her lifeblood spilling onto the battlefield below. Ulf the White screamed in fury and despair, but his cries were cut short as Belerix’s claws raked across his body, tearing him from his saddle and casting him into the inferno below.

You stared down at the lifeless form of Silverwing as she plummeted to the earth, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “One traitor down,” you muttered, turning your gaze toward Tessarion.

Meanwhile, Seasmoke and Tessarion clashed viciously, their roars shaking the heavens as their riders dueled with words and weapons. Addam pressed the attack, his dragon’s agility proving superior as Seasmoke’s claws raked across Tessarion’s wings.

“You’ll regret this, bastard!” Daeron shouted, his voice filled with rage. “You are nothing but a pretender!”

“And you,” Addam retorted, his voice cold and steady, “are a usurper.”

You guided Belerix toward the fray, your dragon roaring as he joined Seasmoke in the assault. The combined might of the two dragons overwhelmed Tessarion, who let out a final, pitiful cry as Belerix’s flames engulfed her. Daeron screamed as he was thrown from his saddle, his body consumed by the fire before it ever hit the ground.

The battlefield fell eerily silent as the last of the Green forces were routed. The sight of their prince’s lifeless body and the fallen dragons broke their spirits, and they fled in droves, leaving Tumbleton to the Blacks.

You landed Belerix near the center of the town, his bloodied claws sinking into the scorched earth. Addam dismounted Seasmoke, his face pale but resolute as he approached.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, your gaze sweeping over the battlefield. “Tumbleton is ours. The traitors are dead.”

Jason arrived moments later, his armor smeared with blood and soot. “We’ve secured the town,” he reported, his tone grim. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

You dismounted, your legs trembling as you steadied yourself. 

The three of you stood amidst the wreckage, the weight of your victory tempered by the knowledge of what lay ahead. The dragons roared one last time, their cries echoing across the desolate battlefield as a reminder of the price of power.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and amber, an ominous prelude to the events unfolding below. The roar of Balerix, your sapphire-and-silver dragon, reverberated across the expanse as he flew alongside Syrax, Rhaenyra’s golden-hued dragon. The capital of King’s Landing loomed ahead, its walls and towers casting long shadows over the city. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, but soon, a darker smoke would rise to mark the beginning of a new rule.

Below, Corlys Velaryon led his fleet into Blackwater Bay, their sails emblazoned with the seahorse of Driftmark. Beside him marched Daemon Targaryen, his dark armor glinting menacingly as he led the ground forces—a combined force of Velaryon soldiers, Lannister bannermen commanded by Tyland and Loren, and the remnants of loyal troops from the Riverlands.

The sight of the dragons overhead spread panic through the streets of King’s Landing. Smallfolk screamed and scattered, soldiers on the walls froze in terror, and bells began to toll—first as a warning, then as a call for surrender.

Rhaenyra’s voice carried through the wind as she turned to you, her silver hair whipping around her face. “This city will fall today, sister,” she said, her tone cold. “And with it, the Greens.”

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the Red Keep, where banners of green still flew defiantly. “Otto and Alicent will answer for their crimes.”

As the dragons descended, Syrax let out a piercing roar, her flames scorching the gates of the city. The wooden beams and metal hinges glowed red-hot, the force of the fire splintering them apart. Balerix followed, his sapphire flames engulfing the surrounding walls, sending defenders scattering.

The gates gave way, and Daemon's forces surged forward, the sound of clashing steel and war cries filling the air. Corlys’s ships unleashed volleys of arrows and flaming projectiles, striking key positions along the harbor to prevent reinforcements from arriving by sea.

As Syrax and Balerix soared above the city, their shadows casting fear onto the panicked masses, you followed Rhaenyra’s lead toward the Red Keep. The Keep stood defiant, its towering walls a stark reminder of the Targaryen dynasty's strength. But today, that dynasty was fractured, and you were here to reunite it by fire and blood.

“Hold back no longer!” Rhaenyra commanded, guiding Syrax to land in the courtyard. Soldiers scrambled to take defensive positions, but their resolve wavered as Balerix landed beside her, his massive form dwarfing them.

You dismounted, your armor gleaming in the morning light. “Surrender!” you shouted, your voice echoing off the stone walls. “Or face the wrath of the dragons!”

Some dropped their weapons, their courage faltering in the face of certain death. Others charged, desperation driving their actions. But Syrax and Balerix were swift, their flames cutting down any resistance as the Targaryen banners were hoisted in place of the green.

As you entered the Red Keep, the halls were eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of battle. Rhaenyra led the way, her gaze sharp as she approached the throne room. The doors creaked open, revealing Alicent Hightower standing at the base of the Iron Throne.

Alicent’s expression was a mixture of fear and defiance as she stepped forward. “You have no claim here, Rhaenyra,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “This throne belongs to my blood.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed as she approached, her presence commanding. “Aegon is a dead usurper. You knew this, Alicent. You orchestrated it. And now, it ends.”

You stood beside your sister, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. “The city is ours. The Greens have lost. Stand down, or face the consequences.”

Alicent hesitated, her gaze flickering to her daughter. Helaena clutched her children protectively, her eyes wide with fear.

“This is madness,” Alicent said, her voice breaking. “The realm will burn because of you.”

Rhaenyra’s voice was icy. “The realm burns because of you.”

With a final, piercing glare, Alicent dropped to her knees, her Helaena following reluctantly with her chidlren. The sight filled you with a grim satisfaction. The Greens were defeated.

Outside the Red Keep, the banners of House Targaryen flew high once more. Daemon and Corlys entered the gates with their victorious forces, their armor bloodied but their spirits high. Tyland and Loren dismounted nearby, their expressions weary but relieved.

Tyland approached you as you emerged from the Keep, his eyes scanning you for injuries. “You’re unharmed,” he said, his voice heavy with relief.

You nodded, resting your hand on his arm. “It’s done. The city is ours.”

Loren joined you, his youthful face hardened by the realities of war. “And the Greens?”

“On their knees,” you replied, your gaze shifting to the distant horizon. “But this is just the beginning. The realm won’t accept this easily.”

Daemon strode toward you, his smirk faint. “Let them challenge us. We have dragons, and now, we have the throne.”

The sky above King’s Landing was thick with smoke, the scent of victory mingling with the cost it had demanded. As you looked upon the city, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead.

An excerpt from "The Dance of Dragons: A History of the Civil War Between Targaryens" by Archmaester Vaenion

The union of Tyland Lannister and Princess Y/N Targaryen, though initially questioned by many, emerged as one of the most pivotal alliances during the Targaryen civil war. Their partnership, built on mutual respect and shared purpose, not only shaped the course of the Dance of Dragons but also cemented a lasting legacy for both House Targaryen and House Lannister.

Princess Y/N’s betrothal to Tyland Lannister was, at first glance, a surprising match. A calculated maneuver by King Viserys I, it was seen as a strategic alliance to bind the powerful Westerlands to the Iron Throne. Yet, what began as a political union quickly grew into a genuine partnership.

Tyland, known for his cunning and practicality, was often underestimated compared to his boisterous twin, Jason Lannister. However, it was Tyland’s sharp mind and unwavering loyalty that won over the Sapphire Princess. Their secret romance, whispered about in the halls of the Red Keep, became public when King Viserys formally announced their engagement. Their marriage, celebrated with great splendor, brought the Lannister banners into Queen Rhaenyra’s fold when the civil war broke out.

The War and Their Role

While many questioned the decision to involve the Westerlands so heavily in the Dance, Tyland and Y/N proved to be invaluable to Rhaenyra’s cause. Princess Y/N, with her dragon Belerix, was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Her decisive actions at Tumbleton, where she struck down the traitor Ulf the White and Prince Daeron Targaryen, marked a turning point in the war. Her sapphire flames engulfed the battlefield, earning her the title "The Sapphire Flame" among her enemies.

Tyland, meanwhile, played a more subtle but equally vital role. His ability to manage alliances, supply lines, and logistics proved critical, especially during the retaking of King’s Landing. It was said that while Rhaenyra and Daemon wielded fire and blood, Tyland wielded the quill and coin, ensuring their campaigns could continue.

Their children—Loren, Rhaelle, Kevan, Alysanne, and the youngest, Jaeryn—represented the unity of their houses. Loren, the rider of Valtyr, and Rhaelle, who bonded with Aelirys, carried forward the legacy of fire and blood alongside their parents.

Challenges and Triumphs

The war tested their bond, particularly when Loren Lannister defied his mother’s wishes to fight alongside Daemon Targaryen at Harrenhal. Tyland, ever the mediator, balanced his wife’s fiery temper with his measured reasoning, ensuring the family remained united despite the chaos. This dynamic—Y/N’s unyielding passion and Tyland’s calm pragmatism—became the cornerstone of their relationship.

Their support of Rhaenyra came at a cost. Tyland’s defiance of Otto Hightower and the Greens led to threats against his family, forcing him to flee with Y/N and their children to Casterly Rock. Their return to King’s Landing, victorious, marked a triumph not only for the Blacks but for their union as well.

A Legacy Forged in Fire

In the aftermath of the Dance, Tyland and Y/N worked tirelessly to rebuild what the war had destroyed. They strengthened alliances, secured trade for the Westerlands, and ensured that House Lannister’s role in supporting Rhaenyra’s reign was not forgotten.

Tyland’s legacy was one of intellect and resilience, a man who proved that strength came in many forms. Y/N, with her dragon and her unwavering loyalty to her sister, embodied the indomitable spirit of House Targaryen. Together, they were a testament to what could be achieved when fire and gold were united.

Their story is remembered not as one of mere political convenience, but as a tale of partnership, love, and the unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of war.

[sunnysideaeggs]

hi friends, welcome back to another episode of me complaining about the dragon show. this is a long post for a long episode, spoilers for s2e6 of hotd, and spoilers for fire and blood, since i will be discussing a bit of my theories about the ending. enjoy!

the lannisters as always serving. i love the armor, the red, the details, targaryens wish they had that drip.

lions? fighting? yes lord jason show us the budget

also i think it’s cute that lord lefford and his men have a little golden dandelion pin. i think the different ways westerosi people embrace their sigils is cute

why is the golden tooth’s lord so surprised to see lord jason being a show off? sir that’s your liege lord you must know how he is 😵‍💫

‘he dares summon me 🤬🤬🤬’ bitch you’re regent because you have fightfing ability. use it. i hate aemond ugh

‘i’m prince regent not a dog’ ✨ stop acting like a bitch then ✨

everyone in the council wishing aegon comes back home lol

larys’ hair looks unmatched today

alicent and dalton? 💀 this would be a great moment to remind the audience of how dalton is a rapist, a tyrant, a heathen and a criminal, and anyone that allies themselves with him is icky. but oh wait isn’t he a black ally?

i will not tolerate any more tyland slander. he’s my little finance bro and he must be respected

now this is a question. what position does alicent fill exactly? she’s not queen anymore and being queen mother of an adult king doesn’t grant her any more saying than anybody else

i would be more inclined to empathize with alicent’s loss of power if she had spent any morsel of her power actually saying or doing something. i don’t care about the loss of a ‘leveling voice’ in the council when she didn’t have any thoughts this season but ‘war bad, aegon bad, viserys good, peace good’

she’s in her FOMO era though. she wishes this was aegon instead. she should’ve employed this maternal energy in him. it would’ve served her better.

now this is another consequence of alicent’s character being so butchered it became a 50’s caricature of what a woman is. book alicent was such a powerhouse that no one would dare question her presence in the council. and she was evil af. that’s the alicent we deserved

i can’t stop thinking that the hand pin rhaenyra gave corlys is the same pin she stole from otto lmao

i fail to see how rhaenyra admitting she’s being held back by her council gives her power. they’re admitting she’s a puppet ruler. ew

rhae mentioning that the knight has noble blood first of all 😭 smallfolk don’t count. it’s unthinkable they would have the ability. she said no real person involved fr

‘the dragons are gods’ i thought we were well past that

if anything i watch every episode to see daemon being haunted for all his sins. truly what he deserves

(throwback to s1) also i find it interesting how in the show viserys cut himself with the throne when he sent away daemon, when the moment he cuts himself in the book is when he condemns vaemond and the silent five unfairly. the show trying to make his mistake be standing up to his entitled family instead of enabling his entitled family 💀

simon must be so done with daemon 😭

i wonder if caraxes has been having weird dreams too

daemon packing his shit and sleeping outside harrenhal in a tent jsjjsjsjs

alys like: ‘where my goodbye hug at? 🧐’

‘perhaps those who strive for (the crown) are the least suited to wear it’ preach.

but rhaenyra does strive for it, she can’t be five minutes reminding people of her crown duh. the only one who recognized the duty of the crown and the burden and duty it takes is egg and that is why i love him

i can’t with the fucking viserys glazing smh

alys my love why would you say ‘centuries’ when it comes to the tullys? they’ve been around for a century and a third, not more. i love the tullys but they haven’t been liege lords for centuries

once again condal proving he didn’t read the books

now if ser whatshisname dies trying to claim a dragon i will say he died a dragonrider’s death, therefore he was successful or whatever

poor steffon :( it’s cruel to give a knight a ceremony for his death and seasmoke was cruel to lure him just to burn him

why did they leave him there instead of idk throwing water? try to save him? smh

he died a dragonrider’s death tho

actually the dragonkeeper choosing to slice his throat instead of succumbing to his burns tells us throusands about what an actual honorable valyrian death is like. and it doesn’t have anything to do with burning

now i would like some more insight on the resentment it causes to know you have a noble father and he leaves you to your devices. imagine your dad being your boss but you can’t say anything :(

i still think it was so stupid of dyana to not run away from the city when she had the chance and the money. i know they kept it for slander purposes but still

since when do the peasants are choosers? they’re eating rats and bowls of brown, why are you complaining about fish?

aemond’s lover is a traaaaaiittoor lol

tell but not show. we haven’t seen any food or feast since the dinner back in s1. got did way better with the food

also giving the blacks’ storyline of feasting while the people starve to the greens has not gone unnoticed.

bitch what? rhaenyra is slapping lords? she’s fucking joffrey. this is beyond disgusting and disrespectful. fuck her i hate her so much and every episode gives me more reason to hate her even more

‘fear me 👹👹👹’ i will cheer when she dies chained

also she just hits her allies and speaks some bs, doesn’t explain herself, doesn’t create more plans, just fucks around and fucks off. ew

i know mysaria is a lickspittle because no one else would say rhaenyra ‘raised in feasts and lazyness’ targaryen becomes being with a sword lol

aemond speaks the truth but fails to endorse it. it is in the crown’s best interest to make sure the smallfolk curse the blacks all the more, instead of leaving them to think whatever. when there’s a siege you hate the one keeping the siege not the ones suffering with you

aemond is so easily blindsided (pun intended). he is so quick to shut down the flatterers in the council but doesn’t realize he’s fucking the worse traitor of them all lol

yay egg is awake! (of course orwyle will prioritize 👑 the king 👑 instead of dealing with a simple prince duh)

my baby is in pain :(

aemond targaryen i will see you in the seven hells if i don’t sent you there myself. keep your hands away from him you leech. i’m on daemon’s side for this one

why would the maesters leave him alone? he’s the king king, he can command them to not leave the room and aemond can’t overrule him

rhaena being sidelined and forced into a storyline that isn’t hers (diminishing her importance and the last dragonrider until daenerys) will not be forgotten.

we get to see daemnyra’s kids’ dragons but not helaegon’s kids’ dragons? a crime.

i would like to remind everybody that grrm himself said dragons are not nomads and they don’t go flying around just because. condal once again

rhae rhae showing she’s vizzy’s daughter because she threatens to cut tongues when she gets mad at the truth and can’t even give a reasonable explanation for why. at least joffrey cut tongues when people were singing slander and not just trying to be useful

fucking tyrant.

while rhaenyra cries about not being respected as a ruler jace actually makes plans to win the war. she’s not respected because she’s fucking useless not because she’s a woman.

ah yes, apples grown in the gardens of dragonstone. as if the reach isn’t team green. lmao

also it’s so funny that no one ever through about buying more food exported from the reach (coast clear and no need for sea routes). the writing is so stupid bruh

all he ever wanted was to hear someone was sorry about what happened to him :(i’m sorry egg, your mom is sorry)

now some sunnydumping: back in 2021 i got covid, i probably catched it from my mom. i was bedridden and with awful fever and pain, my mom did stay by my side and constantly apologized for me being sick. of course it wasn’t her fault but she still felt bad. alicent apologizing to her burned son speaks to me so much

alicent was around 14 when her mom died, gwayne is older than that and was in tourneys during the first ep. did the writers forgot? why would they say ‘oh you were 8 when mom died’ this man fought daemon 💀

THEY’RE AGING DAERON? i expected it but i’m still disappointed

the horses are so cute with their armor aw

rhaenyra didn’t fucking knew about mysaria’s plan 💀 the smallfolk are right to thank her though. she might be the cause there’s a blockade but it’s not logical the crown hasn’t done anything about it

‘we must leave now’ no tf they don’t. helaena and alicent should stay right there instead of going to the streets. most of the smallfolk is deeply religious and wouldn’t dare to desecrate a sept. what are they, blackwoods?

and the narrative backs me up. the people were outside the sept, but didn’t actually enter and instead just conveniently went after the queens when they exited the sept. they should’ve stayed.

the smallfolk throwing food at them 💀 well damn that’s why you’re starving if you’re throwing good food away

i’ll miss leon stermont ngl. he was funny.

eeeegggg :((( his little tear while reaching for the milk? i’m crying. also give tom his emmy rn

aegon wanted his medicine and sleep but larys instead gave him his lore. poor baby :(

matthew needham the actor you are

i love love love larys and aegon together. the two best actors of the show on scene, their microexpressions, their shared disability and the ruthlessness it brews. this is the most vulnerable larys we’ve ever had and i am so mesmerized by them

new theory: i am a ‘aegon poisoned himself’ truther, and now i am of the mind that larys may help him, and poison his king following his orders (jesus and judas who). after that, he chooses death because what else can he do. he fulfilled his purpose and he served his king.

btw larys’ purpose to me is the old gods grand conspiracy. he’s advancing stuff so that the events of asoiaf can happen. he’s but a piece in a board.

he also may poison aegon without aegon knowing but thinking he’s doing it out of kindness. he doesn’t want the boy he grew to be fond of to be stripped of his power, life and dignity. better to die a king.

i hope we can get past all that dan schneider shit from s1e9 and we get to the real deal of larys’ motivations now. power and chaos, chaos and power. chaos is a ladder after all :)✨

daemon seeing viserys mourning 😭 he’s just in a really bad mushroom trip

where is elmo tully? this is muppet erasure

seasmoooookke i’m mad at you

still go get your rider boy

???? no claiming scene ???? 🤨

also we probably could’ve a) seasmoke claiming scene and b) sunfyre recovering scene instead of steffon dying trying to claim seasmoke and caraxes screaming in the background with alys and daemon, better use of cgi

rhaenyra’s problem is that she can’t fathom that not kissing the floor she walks on and still being loyal to her can coexist. no girl jace is your biggest ally he doesn’t doubt you he just sees you need help. smh

another thing i dislike is how they paint rhaenyra to be this universally beloved queen and the poor underdog fighting against the world at the same time. pick a side hbo

here we have grrm’s bad maths: 2/3 of the houses sided with the blacks, the blacks have thrice the dragons the greens have. but still the greens won (by virtue of aegon outliving and killing rhaenyra). how was that? the greens are the underdogs and the blacks have the numbers advantage

jace literally wakes up and starts thinking about ways to help his mother. but he says ‘ayo maybe you should check on your husband and ask him for help’ and then his mother cries and makes a fit because apparently he’s doubting her. narcissistic mom where

because apparently women need to be raped to be sympathetic? can’t mysaria be a sex worker who just so happened to want power and catch daemon’s attention? why does she need to be abused by her father? and tell her backstory to a targaryen of all things. she won’t ever understand how horrible that is.

mysaria being a ripoff of varys’ backstory 🧐

bruuuh i actually don’t think rhaenyra and mysaria are a good thing. power dynamics, especially with mysaria being a former sex worker and a sa victim, a daemon victim and at some point rhaenyra’s prisoner. can’t mysaria be a good employee without having to please her boss sexually? can rhaenyra respect one of her employees without fucking them? it seems not.

this episode was long aaaaaaffff and i think the scene with rhaenyra and mysaria could’ve been cut completely. mysaria giving her lore just doesn’t hit as hard when larys gave his piece, the make out scene is just fanservice and the ‘oh no’ ending could’ve been just alyn claiming seasmoke and pulling a dany

7/10 solely because of my greenies and alys.

[duchess-of-oldtown]

House of the Dragon Season 2, Episode 1 Thoughts

Just clarifying, these are my own thoughts, you don't like them, don't bother telling me so. Also, I'm not a book purist, I like adaptions taking putting their own spin on things - if it makes sense to do so. So, here were my thoughts. Obvs, this post is dark and full of spoilers.

I loved the opening, the whole callback to the White Walkers which cements the true arc of ASOIAF (and feels a fuck you to s8)

THEY CALLED VHAGAR THAT HOARY OLD BITCH, ONE OF MY FAVOURITE BOOK QUOTES

Rhaenys ate, she fucking ate, that's it girl you remind Daemon of your daughter and his place (you know that Daemon loved that shit)

And Daemon? The whole mother vs the Queen speech? What do you think YOUR mother would have done? Alyssa Targaryen would have done exactly the same if it were you torn apart and you goddamn know it.

Yes, Corlys mourning Luke. Everyone mourning Luke 😭😭😭

Alyn of Hull, slay.

Am I the only one who kinda thinks that the Hightower Sigil looks a little clip-arty? It's just not it 😬

I really wish they made the scorpions look better. I just always thought that the weapons would be more advanced because they actually know dragons.

Aegon and Helaena, you can sort of see that Aegon does care about her but he just doesn't know what to do with her.

Alicent ALICENT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. GET THAT MAN AWAY FROM THERE

Also Criston? Giving head? Yeah, I'd think the sharks are real before I believed that.

Where was the build up to... That?

I actually fucking shuddered. SHUDDERED.

Tyland don't fucking annoy that little boy.

Terms? You killed her little boy and you sent terms?

Yes, Aegon you humiliate that Lannister bitch.

Why is Jaehaerys so sweet? 😭😭😭😭

Dalton Greyjoy mention!!

Mine are Bigger - Actual Aegon II energy

Why is Aemond sitting there like 🥺🥺🥺? You fucked up my guy.

Emma is heartbreaking.

Syrax never grew? Why she so tiny?

Arrax was so beautiful.

The actual stab of grief I got watching Rhaenyra on the beach. That was her baby. That was her little boy.

Aegon the Magnamious?

Aegon being nice on the throne? Being kind to the shepherd?

Your goats? No, sheep even better. 🙂 Aegon, I am meant to hate you.

Otto get fucked, Aegon was doing his best.

Hugh? Hugh Hammer? Girl,get the fuck out of here, asking for money and shit.

I can see a lot of ppl going to whine about them humanising Aegon but it's necessary? Complex characters and our relationships with them is GRRM's greatest skill.

Larys get away from that boy.

This is a green heavy episode. I know why but still, give us some Joffrey maybe? Some House Baratheon shitting themselves? The Great Houses getting the news and going oh fuck?

Daemon is lowkey right, Mysaria did help place Aegon on the throne but she is also right, he's only that angry with her because nobody else around.

Matt's acting is top tier because you can really see the grief, the anger and the insecurity when he's snarking.

Rhaenyra's return. Her silence, it's fucking gold.

Jace and Rhaenyra 😭😭😭😭 His lil voice. 😭😭😭

Where was Jeyne Arryn? Why no Jeyne??

The funeral 😭 lil Joffrey is too lil. Jace holding him *raptor screams*

Alicent, the fit ate but what good are prayers? Go smack that son of yours.

Somebody hug Rhaenyra. Right now. Rhaenys? Elinda? Baela? Rhaena? Hold that woman.

The CRIME HOODIE is back.

I still hate the gold cloaks' cloaks. They look like piss rags. Does nobody on the staff know what gold is? Look at Sunfyre.

The actual book quotes 🙂🙂🙂🙂

The War of Quills and Ravens, yes, yes

Aemond don't sit with Ser Incelot, he hast done thy mother

Y'know what, Aemond is a lil right, he's getting the blame for starting the war but Alicent and Otto literally laid the foundations?

Why is Criston standing for Otto? He's not a member of the royal family.

Aemond, sitting in that chair is very Daemon of you

Otto, showing off his slutty lil wrist, your pour yourself a lil drinky girl

Blood and Cheese have a lil dog with them. Please don't let anything happen to the dog.

There's something always so eerie about all those tunnels under the Red Keep. It absolutely terrifies me.

Aegon and his buddies sitting on the throne gives off fuck boi vibes and the Strong joke was actually pretty funny.

That Viserys statue is not it.

Why is Blood so fucking massive?

Cheese, did you just fucking kick that dog? I will kill what you love you absolutely bastard.

Oh, those locks. The world building, oh the worldBuilding

The atmosphere is very well captured. The music is on point.

I love the detailing of the interiors of the Red Keep, it's so much better than the OG series.

Oh Helaena.

Helaena, my love. Why Helaena, why her.

Why didn't they just check themselves?

How the fuck did the writers make Blood and Cheese that lack lustre? How the actual fuck do you fumble that?

Alicent, my fucking eyes, MY FUCKING EYES

I'm giving this a 7.5/10. Everyone else was great but HOW DO YOU FUCK UP BLOOD AND CHEESE? HOW? HOW? I DEMAND A TRIAL BY COMBAT

Also I must say, the Biblically accurate Hand of the King chain in the trailer is very good.

[marlequinncos]

Now that HOTD Season 2 is over, I have a lot of thoughts about what has transpired. Full disclosure: I basically wrote an essay, so long post ahoy! I have read the book, meaning there are a couple book spoilers in here along with show spoilers. Also: there are all my personal opinions, so you may agree or disagree.

The Good

The show is beautifully shot and the cinematography is excellent. We've gotten some really gorgeous shots this season.

The dragons look great, they're animated well, and I like how we can really see their different personalities and their relationships with their riders.

The acting is solid pretty much across the board. Folks like Emma D'Arcy, Matt Smith, and Olivia Cooke are excellent as usual. The standout for me this season, though, is Tom Glynn-Carney as Aegon. He's thoroughly fleshed out his character and given him some really interesting shading and depth and I really enjoy watching him on-screen.

Some excellent new additions to the cast! Ser Simon Strong is a national treasure, Gwayne Hightower is a mood, Alys Rivers is who I aspire to be in life, and the Hull brothers are both interesting (especially their dichotomy) and they better show more with them as per the book.

Rook's Rest gave us our first real dragon battle of the show, and I thought it was really well done. I was concerned that it would be the kind of fight that's hard to follow visually, but it was clean and worked nicely. I also love that they made Aemond torching Aegon a conscious choice.

The costumes are, once again, beautiful.

The embroidery title sequence kicks a lot of ass, and I like how they're adding to it with major events.

I do really like how they've made Helaena a dreamer (which they started in season 1) and how she's a tragic Cassandra figure. However, I do have some issues with her that I'll talk about later.

The Red Sowing was done well. I was hoping we were going to see some people get incinerated to really underscore how dangerous claiming a dragon can be, and that did not disappoint.

Little Oscar Tully verbally suplexing Daemon through an announcer's table was everything I've ever wanted.

I really like the relationship between Rhaenyra and Alicent. That said, I think there are some real issues with the writing that I'll discuss below.

Big fan of them putting Tyland Lannister in Situations.

Aemond committing war crimes and serving cunt as ye olde Sephiroth. 10/10 no notes.

While I do think the tripping balls in Harrenhall arc went on for far too long, I like how the show is leaning into the magic of the world with the weirwoods and insane visions of the past, present, and future.

Women kissing

The Bad

The pacing. Listen, I like a slowburn (one of my favorite horror movies is The Witch which many people find boring), but the slow pacing has to build to something, and this entire season felt like it was just build-up with no payoff. Last season ended with a consequential event (death of Luke), and this season began with another (Blood and Cheese), yet I don't feel like those events have managed to push the plot forward. Even Rook's Rest, which seemed like we were finally getting the ramp up to all-out war that's been teased for one and a half seasons due to Aegon being burned and Rhaenys dying, didn't really ramp up the stakes. We're still waiting for the war, and it feels like Season 2 was just a giant teaser for Season 3 rather than a stepping stone of the whole story. Think of it this way: season 1 ended with a build-up to the war and yet somehow this season also ended as a build-up to the war. It doesn't feel like progress was made; we're essentially in the same spot. The season should have ended with either the taking of King's Landing or the Battle of the Gullet.

Blood and Cheese. There is a reason this event lives in infamy for book readers. It's essentially the Red Wedding of the Dance of Dragons, because of how truly heinous and horrifying of an event it is. But the show toned it down a lot, and I think that was a mistake. Not to mention the fact that the death of Aegon's heir, who was a literal child, only seemed to be an issue for about an episode, and then everyone kind of forgot about it. Frankly, I don't like how the deaths of Luke, Jaehaerys, and Rhaenys were somewhat glossed over other than an episode of some characters being sad. Those deaths should have reverberated with long-ranging consequences and I don't feel like that's the case.

The writing. It's just not as good this season. Yes, I know the writer's strike probably affected it, but still. The conversations are nowhere near as engaging or interesting as they were in season 1, and I'm someone who loves dialogue scenes of political intrigue. I also think some of the character decisions they've made don't work. The biggest issue I have in that regard is with Rhaenyra. I don't actually hate the scene in the Sept (even though I think it is kind of silly how Rhaenyra managed to sneak into KL without being detected), because I like how they establish that Alicent knows that was wrong in her assumption about Aegon and yet she doubles down and they both realize that war is now inevitable even if it all began because of a misunderstanding. But book Rhaenyra is both far more active and ruthless than her show counterpart. There's a reason they call her "Maegor with teats". I thought we were getting some of that "warrior queen Visenya" Rhaenyra during the Red Sowing episode, but the fact is that she's spent most of the season trying to decide on a course of action and trying to do everything peacefully. She should have thrown that out the window after her conversation with Alicent in the Sept. It's especially weird considering she ended season 1 out for blood for the death of Luke. I feel like the writers are afraid that having her sometimes make nasty decisions will make her unlikeable to the general audience. But by doing that, they've also reduced this fascinating woman into a shell of who she should be. Look at Dany and Cersei from GOT; both of them were women in positions of power who did not hesitate to make (sometimes bad) decisions and/or commit horrible acts to further their goals and guess what: for the most part, the audience liked them! Give me "blood and fire" Rhaenyra! Support women's wrongs! Make characters morally grey! LET WOMEN BE AWFUL!!

I also think that the writing is doing Alicent a disservice. They really don't know what to do with her, and its a shame because Olivia Cooke is great. She just feels rudderless to me.

It really looks like the show is cutting Nettles entirely and giving her plot to Rhaena and I don't like this choice. Nettles is an amazing character in her own right, and her relationship with Daemon is key for him to start changing his Targaryen supremacist worldview and for his arc as a whole. Plus, this takes away the significance of Rhaena and Morning at the conclusion of the Dance.

While I like Helaena being a dreamer, they need to give her more screen time and dialogue. Girl had almost nothing to do this season.

I wish we had seen more of Jace and Cregan in the North and the Pact of Ice and Fire. Not saying we need 20 minutes of that, but 5 would have been nice.

I like the idea of that big vision of the future in the finale, but knowing how GOT ended does soften the impact quite a bit. And I don't love that Daemon and Aemond kind of already know their fates?? That's definitely going to hurt their arcs going forward.

The season should have been 10 episodes. Having it be only 8 really messes with the pacing of the story. Not loving the 2 year breaks between seasons either.

The "Let's Wait and See"

Aegon said that Sunfyre is dead. I really hope he's wrong about that because boy howdy that will have major plot implications if Sunfyre really is dead.

DAERON REAL. It would have been nice if he had been mentioned in season 1 and actually seen in season 2, but at least we know he exists and isn't a cryptid. Hopefully we finally get to see him in action in season 3 because poor dude has just been implied for two whole seasons.

I hope we see more of the book's excellent side characters like Black Alys, Benjicot Blackwood, and Sabitha Frey (who we did technically see briefly, but if you're a book reader, you know what I'm talking about). I'd also like to see more Cregan.

Overall, I think the season was a mixed bag. I hope season 3 fixes some of the issues with pacing and writing, because they have a great cast and a show that looks beautiful.

[horizon-verizon]

Hello, how are you? :)

I've been following your posts for a while now and I find your opinions truly interesting, especially in relation to Fire and Blood/Rhaenyra. I've never had the courage to send something, but I really need to talk about this.

I started reading the book some time ago (in fact, I died on Jaeherys's hill, I can't stand that man anymore) and although I haven't finished the book, I've seen a lot of opinions that make me uncomfortable? Frustrated? I'm not sure, actually. But a part of the fandom seems to share the opinion that Rhaenyra did nothing to help the commoners and judge the character with such high morals, that they seem to think they would do differently in her place. I could be wrong, but weren't the Greens the ones who built statues and then stole and divided the gold? How is this Rhaenyra's responsibility? It's as if they believed she had some power other than riding a dragon that could make the necessary money appear.

And, for me, it is a hypocritical speech. Because these people seem to believe that because she is favored, Rhaenyra should take from her own plate or deprive herself of minimal things to feed the people. It makes me think about the irony of it all, because these same people love to place their own expectation and moral high ground on a character, when they don't exercise what they like to criticize. Many of these people have never taken a grain of rice from their plate to donate to those in need or taken new clothes from their wardrobe for those in need, nor do they share their blood that could help someone. Some even give very old things that no longer serve them. But for some reason, Rhaenyra, a grieving woman in the middle of war, is a monster for not practicing kindness.

P.S: Sorry if there are any errors, English is not my native language, so I used Google to help. I hope it was understandable.

I actually have so many old posts of different anons trying to argue for Rhaenyra's total, willful neglgence of "duty" or morality, and I can't list them here as It'd take ages. Try looking for posts under the tag of "F&B master post" in my blog and maybe you can find them. I may have to create a new tag called "defending Rhaenyra" or something. I & others have pointed that out too.

In answer to your question, Rhaenyra was pretty limited or had her choices narrowed down in what she could do many times. As for the money to ive to starving smallfolk, yea, it's possible thhat Corlys might have been able to supply er wit more funds, but then I'm not sure he had access to such during his own blockade, as tey cant break teir own blockades for fear of invasions. Yes, Aegon II commisioned golden statues AFTER Rhaenyra was killed and the city was worse off. Yes, Tyland Lannister, the master of coin for the greens, stole the treasury moneys and disemminated portions across Westeros specifically to make tings even arder for Rhaenyra after she had taken the city back. The Storming of the Dragonpit? After centuries of her family "owning", riding, bonded to dragons and no dragon ever having had been killed by humans except by luck, there's not much that would have convinced her to contemplate that any peasant could kill dragons three times bigger than them, even if they were a mob? As long as her men could keep them away from the Pit, too, I think she expected they wouldn't even be able to reach those numbers. And if the smaller dragons of Shrykos and Morghul die, I don't think she'd care. Possibly, she'd be fine with that bc less possible rivals for her own kids in the future.

However, Rhaenyra should be held accountable & judged & critiqued & criticized for what she did to the Dragonseeds and esp Nettles, even if her council (except Corlys) were near universal in teir condemnations of both Nettles and the Dragonseeds altogether. That is where you see her classism working against her.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Do you have favorite noncanon ships in asoiaf/f&b ?

Hi anon, fun question! I think most of my ships are technically non-canon? I definitely like my crackships.

Well, if you've found my blog you probably know that I would have solved the Dance with Aegon II/Baela Targaryen, but in case you didn't, please climb aboard this ship. @aifsaath and I have a post-Dance fic we're co-writing about them (and individual projects as well).

Jace/Cregan is one of those ships that feels like canon, even though the books don't mention it once. It is canon in my heart. I don't even really like Cregan, but I like to pretend this is the real reason he kept the war going after Rhaenyra died.

Helaena/Kermit Tully. I think I could talk Viserys into it and then Aemond wouldn't burn the Riverlands. Think of the lives saved. As a bonus, he's age appropriate and has cute freckles.

Alicent/Tyland Lannister postwar queerplatonic life partners

I guess the show made Jaime/Brienne canon but in the books they're not really (yet??). They were my first asoiaf ship years ago, which I suppose is a pretty common experience.

fAegon/Sansa. I just think it's a neat idea.

Someone asked me about the most chaotic pairings I could think of and I thought about Euron/Ramsay as a joke but then I was kind like ... but maybe?? Okay probably not ... but?? Look, I was curious enough to search up fic. There are 9 of them, and at least one is in French.

[sweetscarlettangel]

HotD Season 2 Episode 8 Live Thoughts

I liked the montage at the beginning after the recap

Essos (Tyrosh?)

Honestly, they're smart for wanting the Stepstones — they should have fortified them and used them post the Velaryon war

Tyland just wants to go home

Go girl!

Something will happen between them

King’s Landing

And the beginnings of Aegon's and Orwyle's bond

Honestly, Aegon seems to have more of a political mind than Aemond

So Larys' plan wasn’t Dragonstone originally?

If Sunfyre's dead then will Aegon claim another dragon? Is he actually alive but they don’t know it? Or will they simply change Rhaenyra's fate?

The Vale

And there goes Rhaena

Not a very good babysitter

Dragonstone

So they have Hugh be more reasonable than Ulf

Jace is so done with them and things are barely starting 

Driftmark

"The third brother" say your brother's name!

Helaena is no warrior, but Dreamfyre was an angry and vicious dragon

Corlys naming his ship for Rhaenys!

Harrenhal

Daemon finally seems happy and not in the middle of a nightmare

At a minimum, Daemon should’ve imprisoned Ser Alfred. It's treason what he’s suggesting and they both know it

And Ser Simon will tell the others

King’s Landing

Yeah, the riots will start because of Aemond

Helaena!

She's so innocent

Alicent planning to escape?

What happened to Aemond? Honestly, the inconsistency of the characterizations is one of the show's biggest weaknesses 

Crownlands

Gwayne & Cristin coming to a head

And now they’re having deep conversations?

Essos

Tyland isn’t having a good time

Why are they fighting in the mud?

Dragonstone

Baela being Jace's voice of reason

I like how she’s been given a bigger role this season

The Vale

Rhaena better find the dragon fast

Essos

Ok why is he singing?

Will they ever get his name right?

The Gullet is coming (probably in S3's premiere)

She got his name right!

Did not expect that…thought she'd want an affair or something

Dragonstone

Awkward dinner

Already showing the differences between Addam and Hugh & Ulf

The stills from this scene!

Hugh should try to get them to smuggle his wife away

Gerardys! Love him, an un-utilized king

Harrenhal

I’m disliking Alys more and more

Don’t understand why Helaena was in the visions

Thought the Dany in the visions would be with the 3 dragons grown

Saw another comment this and I totally agree: Daemon should’ve seen Jon while he was being named King and thought it was an older Jace

King's Landing

Oh no… foreshadowing Helaena's death

Harrenhal

Caraxes welcoming Syrax? Or angry Caraxes?

Syrax: I’m not meant for this Rhaenyra! Take me back to our island where I can be pampered!

Daemyra meeting after 6 weeks apart

And now Daemon believes in dreams and prophecies

I love Ser Simon (will probably use him in one of my stories)

No one can deny Daemon is a leader

Driftmark

Will Corlys and Alyn ever have a cordial relationship? Who knows!

And there's a bit of the Alyn from F&B

The Vale

We should’ve had a scene where the caretakers and guards of the kids realize Rhaena is gone

Dragonstone

Mysaria is laying it on a bit thick… the manipulation is becoming clearer 

Gosh this feels like lovers reuniting

So Alicent had an existential crisis in the woods and ended up with Rhaenyra 

The parallels to the Sept

Why didn’t she tell Helaena do they could pack gold and valuables, grab Jaehaera and go

The situation makes no sense… why would Alicent try to make peace after years believing Rhaenyra as queen would mean her children dead? After Daemon ordered her grandson's murder? And why would she even accept having Aegon killed, confirming her fears?

Again, the parallels - young Rhaenyra wanted to go away with Alicent and now older Alicent wants it

[andreadesantis3806]

Answers of questions to This post. for @patrocles. Also reblogged it in the post before.

Favorite Great House - House Targaryen

A minor (or extinct) house you need more lore on- House Celtigar

Favorite sigil/house words- ''Winter is coming''-House Stark

Favorite Valyrian sword- Dark Sister

A dead female character you need to save- Helaena Targaryen/Lyanna Stark

Which book or character did you not like at first but eventually grew on you?- Jaime Lannister

Which Free City are you retiring to?- Lorath

Build your own Kingsguard with any characters alive or dead- Lord Commander : Brienne Tarth, Others : Jaime Lannister, Erryk Cargyll, Steffon Darklyn

Build your small council with any characters dead or alive- Cregan Stark/Rhaenys Targaryen(Hand), Corlys Velaryon (Master of Ships), Mysaria (Mistress of Whispers), Tyland Lannister (Master of Coin), Tyrion Lannister(Master of Law), Gerardys (Grand Maestar), Jorah Mormont (Master of war)

A quote so good it makes you crazy- ''They should know whom to blame when the sky falls down upon them''-Daenerys Targaryen

Favorite bastard- Nettles

Who are you traveling the ravaged Riverlands with?- Aemond Targaryen (let the mf see wtf he did)

A death that still hurts to think about- Laena Velaryon

Who are you bringing back from the dead with the power of R’hllor?- Lucerys Velaryon

Favorite parent- Rhaenyra Targaryen

Favorite sibling dynamic- Jaime and Tyrion

Favorite theme- The Prince That was Promised/House Velaryon theme

A mystery you need solved NOW- Tf did Podrick do to those women.

A theory you’ve adopted as canon- Lucerys is alive somewhere, has amnesia and is a fisherman.

A theory you pray never comes true- Alicent being the one to poison Aegon II

A moment that made you cry- Rhaenyra finding Luke's remains

A character so queer-coded you’d argue it to GRRM’s face- Mysaria

Two characters you need to interact- Aegon and Rhaenyra/ Arya and Daenerys

A ship that gives you the absolute ick- Alicent and Cole

A crackship?- Otto/Daemon (PFFT-)

Favorite “problematic” ship- Daemon/Rhaenyra

Favorite canon ship- Jace/Baela

If you write fic, is there a ship or au you would like to write for, but haven’t yet?- Aegon/Jace with a fix-it au

If you read fic, what’s a trope or interpretation of your fave that you absolutely can’t stand? Which AU/trope will you read every time?- My fav Lucemond; but i cannot stand making them unnecessarily violent, I mean yea, violence is a major part of them, but i like seeing them heal, slowly, steadily. I also do not like the ones which have Luke being WAYY younger than Aemond than he should be (Canonically, there is a 4 yr gap, and in show canon its a 2 yr-WHICH ARE FINE) Like there are these stuff which have Luke being a 14 yr old attracted to a near 30 Aemond. I want to have the og show or book age gaps remain in their current stages or in their 20s. I also do not really like (but smtms read anyway if it has that good vibe) when Luke is shown to be weak and measlier than Aemond, smtms way too girly. Like bruh, the boy took the others godamn EYE, and HE WAS RAISED BY DAEMON FOR THE BETTER HALF OF HIS LIFE like- asasdfevasd. I prefer them to be matching each others fire and constantly towering their badassery over each other. THAT is a pure enemies to lovers trope. For the sec part, i really love Lucemond modern AUs where targs are this musical fam with hit stars and attributions and controversies.

A POV character you wish wasn’t- Jon Snow

Who would you elevate to a POV character?- Having them see the destruction they had enabled and slowly spiraling.

A fancast you absolutely can’t stand- All fancasts seem to be better than the actual ones they make official (not all cases)

A fancast that just IS a character- dunno T_T

What’s something people get wrong about your favorite character?- Dont have a specific fav character T_T

A character you just don’t get the hype of- JON sNOw *sigh*

What’s something you wish GRRM handled better? (a character/theme/world building etc)- Nothing, he handles them well, its not his fault the shows butchered them.

An event/era in TWOIAF that you would love to see a film/tv adaptation of- Aegon's Conquest/The part of HOTD when it will show in s3 (i hope they show atl-)The Hour of the Wolf when Cregan takes the big boy handles

Is there a house would you fit in with based off your own looks? A house you would fit in with based off your personality/ideals/vibes etc?- House Stark (I have dark hair and eyes and pale complexion and an irredeemable love for winter.

Your Drunk History topic (a character/theory/event/etc)- Burning of Summerhall

Be honest, are you still waiting for TWOW?-- *SOBS*

[duxbelisarius]

The Dance of the Dragons: A Military Analysis (Pt. 9)

A massive thanks to those of you who have followed this series (Master Post here); I promise that we’re nearing the end, but as I said in Part 8, things aren’t getting any better writing-wise on George’s front. The focus of Part 9 will be Rhaenyra and the Black Council’s strategic decision-making (or lack thereof) prior to the First Battle of Tumbleton.

Before beginning our analysis, it is helpful to establish a timeline of events; we know that Aemond and Rhaenyra began planning their respective campaigns after the Battle of the Honeywine, which took place on January 19th or 20th 130 AC. If we give Aemond a week to formulate his strategy and call his banners, then the march on Harrenhal began on January 26th-27th and concluded on February 14th or 15th. King’s Landing would have fallen sometime between January 27th and February 15th by this estimate; going forward in time, we know that the Battle over the God’s Eye took place on May 22nd 130 AC, on the 14th day of Daemon’s stay at Harrenhal. This means that Daemon and Nettles both left Maidenpool on May 8th, having received Rhaenyra’s letter for the arrest of Nettles the previous day. Assuming it took about five days for a raven from King’s Landing to reach Maidenpool (based on our estimates from Part 3 and a distance map), this means that Rhaenyra’s orders for the arrest of Nettles and Addam Velaryon were issued on May 2nd. Rhaenyra made this decision after receiving word of Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White’s treachery at Tumbleton, so the First Battle of Tumbleton likely took place around April 30th; this means that Maiden Day and the arrival of Winter took place between February 15th and April 30th. 

The strategic position of the Blacks is immensely strong after the fall of King’s Landing, but they fall victim to George’s poor writing choices just as the Greens did before. We’ve already discussed the failure to exploit Rhaenyra’s inexplicably strong support in the Reach, and George remains blissfully unaware of his own world-building when it comes to how Rhaenyra and the Black Council prosecute their war effort, and the means with which they fund it. Funding the Black war effort is hampered by the fact that Tyland Lannister sent three-quarters of the Royal Treasury to Oldtown, Casterly Rock and Braavos after Viserys’ death, while most of the rest had been spent or otherwise absconded with. As George would have us believe, Rhaenyra and her Master of Coin, Bartimos Celtigar ‘replenished’ the royal coffers ‘at grievous cost’ via taxation, tariffs, port duties and fees for the attendance of public executions, but this is frankly absurd. 

For starters, the Royal Treasury at Viserys’ death was well-stocked despite the King’s own lavish spending and support of Daemon’s war in the Stepstones, thanks to years of peace and prosperity under his reign and the latter part of Jaehaerys’ reign as well. We have no indication of what the value of the treasury was upon Viserys death, nor whether Rhaenyra’s coffers refer to the pre-war treasury as a whole or just that quarter which was left at Aegon II’s disposal, but it seems ridiculous that Rhaenyra could raise an amount equal to either sum by confiscating the wealth of the citizens of King’s Landing. Looking at Medieval and Early Modern history, Rhaenyra could have sold royal lands, titles and government offices to raise money, as well as confiscate wealth and land from former supporters of Aegon to then resell, or even just raised funds through the sale of royal pardons. Between King’s Landing, Dragonstone and Driftmark, there were surely Targaryen and Velaryon heirlooms and valuables that could have been sold or pawned by the crown in order to raise funds. Although many potentially valuable hostages were killed by the Blacks, such as Jasper Wylde and Otto and Gwayne Hightower, notable Greens like Alicent Hightower, Tyland Lannister and Queen Helaena could have been offered their freedom in return for ransoms paid by the remaining Green houses as well. She could also have tried negotiating with Dalton Greyjoy, offering the Ironborn new lands or privileges in return for them giving a certain amount of their war loot (esp. captured gold) from the Westerlands to the crown. Rhaenyra also has the allegiance of the Crownlands, Riverlands, North and Vale, and could surely have extracted some kind of royal tribute or taxes in arrears from her allies in the name of funding the war effort.

These are by no means the only options she could have tried for raising funds; Joffrey Velaryon is still promised to be betrothed to one of Lord Manderly’s daughters, and the bridal dowry would surely put more coin in the crown’s coffers. Then there’s her and Daemon’s son Aegon, and Daemon’s daughters Rhaena and Baela, all of whom could have been offered in marriage to Westerosi houses or to nobles of the Free Cities, in return for financial aid to the crown. We know from Jon’s meetings with Tycho Nestoris in ADWD that each of the nine Free Cities has it’s own bank, some more than one; whether or not Rhaenyra is aware of Tyland giving part of the treasury to the Iron Bank of Braavos, the fact that she never seems to have approached the bank for a loan or assistance in recovering the stolen funds is inexcusable. That Rhaenyra is incapable of locating the other three-quarters of the treasury is especially bizarre given Mysaria and Daemon’s spies and contacts within the city, and Gyldan’s claim that Daemon had a mole in the Green Council. Moving large quantities of hard currency and gold via land or ship would have been difficult to conceal, so the fact that the Blacks never got close to discovering their whereabouts makes little sense. 

With access to the armies of the Crownlands, Riverlands, North and Vale, and with six combat capable dragons at her disposal (seven or eight if we count Joffrey and Tyraxes along with Baela and Moondancer), she could also have mounted a campaign against the Westerlands and it’s gold mines. Plundering the gold supply would surely help fill the royal coffers, while securing Royal ownership of some of the mines in return for peace would give the crown access to it’s own gold for the foreseeable future. Last but not least, Rhaenyra could easily have sold or pawned off dragons eggs to recoup her losses; Jorah Mormont tells Daenerys that even her three fossilized eggs would be worth a considerable sum, so there’s no reason why this would not be the case with potentially live ones. A combination of these choices alongside reasonable increases in taxation and duties should have been sufficient to fund Rhaenyra’s war effort; owing to the importance of the taxes in alienating her support in King’s Landing, George once again ignores any factors that would be inconvenient to his plot. 

When it comes to actually fighting the war, the strategic decision-making of the Blacks is as deficient as their monetary policy. Despite having dominance of the seas (see Part 2), a clear advantage in the skies, and the allegiance of most of Westeros with armies waiting in the wings, none of the decisions made by Rhaenyra and the Black Council seem to reflect this. After taking the capital in mid-February, it’s not until Maiden’s Day and the announcement of Winter by the Citadel that Rhaenyra makes a decision for how to continue the war. We have no firm date for when Maiden’s Day is, but it would have to be some time in March; Daemon and Nettles depart for the Riverlands after this, and since their relationship seems to develop while hunting Aemond, it would take a few weeks at least for this plot to develop sufficiently. This means that at least a month passed between Rhaenyra taking KIng’s Landing and the Black Council formulating anything resembling a strategy for continuing the war. 

The status of the North and the Vale in the narrative at this time presents a variety of problems for George. As far back as the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, we’re told that men were gathering at White Harbor, Winterfell, Barrowton, Sisterton, Gulltown and the Gates of the Moon, to lend support to Rhaenyra. We’re likewise told on Maiden’s Day that the Vale was sending men to support Rhaenyra via the sea, owing to snow cutting off the passes through the Mountains of the Moon, while Medrick and Torrhen Manderly arrived with troops from White Harbor. Given that the Velaryon Fleet is no longer occupied with a blockade of the Gullet, while the Royal Fleet is now under Rhaenyra’s control, these plus the naval forces of Gulltown and White Harbor should be more than sufficient to convey large numbers of Northern and Vale troops to the Crownlands. As mentioned in Part 4, the combined strength of Cregan Stark and Jayne Arryn’s forces at the end of the war is c.22000; combined with Rhaenyra’s forces in the Crownlands and the Riverlands, the Blacks should have substantial forces to campaign against Aegon’s remaining allies in the Westerlands, Reach and Stormlands. With the bulk of the Lannister forces destroyed at the Lakeshore and Dalton Greyjoy terrorizing the coasts, the Westerlands should be the easiest target by far. With potential assistance from Houses Fell, Buckler and Tarth, the Black armies and their dragons should also be able to bring Borros Baratheon to heel, and the same goes for the Reach. 

Instead of acknowledging these advantages, George opts to ignore them entirely; the strategy Rhaenyra settles on is fundamentally defensive, with Daemon and Nettles being dispatched to hunt down Aemond in the Riverlands, while Ulf and Hugh are sent to reinforce the defense of Tumbleton against Ormund Hightower’s army. The Northern and Vale reinforcements are nowhere to be seen, as the Manderly’s men appear to be no more than household troops that are overwhelmed by the King’s Landing rioters, while the only Valeman worth mention is Willam Royce, a member of the “Seven Who Rode.” When Rhaenyra flees King’s Landing and sends for aid from the North and the Vale, various excuses are made for why they cannot help, but these only raise more questions. Jayne Arryn states that she could send an army to Duskendale at once with the aid of the Velaryons, but otherwise she would need to hire ships from the Free Cities. This just begs the question as to whether or not Gulltown and the Vale have any ships of their own at all, and whether or not George “Kinda Forgot” about what he had previously written of on Maiden’s Day. Cregan Stark claims that it will take time to raise forces due to the size of the North, and the last harvest needs to be brought in before the snows remain; by this point it has been well over a month since Maiden’s Day and the announcement of winter, but George would have us believe it was snowing more heavily in early autumn of 129 AC than in early winter of 130 AC? And of course, while it’s now winter and snow has blocked the Mountains of the Moon, the weather has no appreciable affect on the plot anywhere else in Westeros, because George will only acknowledge the weather in this story if it furthers his plot. 

Despite the options that should have been available to Rhaenyra in terms of funding her war effort and prosecuting it, the only choices she is permitted are those which would best suit George’s narrative. The result is that neither the Queen nor her councilors seem capable of making reasonable decisions, even ostensibly intelligent men like Daemon and Corlys Velaryon, and the writing quality suffers as a result.   

[wakeofvultures]

j for neither snake nor dragon 🤞

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic]

Okay, yeah, I should have seen this coming! Anyway, this will be a really long ramble that is not very well organized.

There is certainly an AU in the works where everyone in the Greens live (except Otto and Criston because we needed some war casualties), so you will have to be satisfied with a description for now.

This AU fic would probably be tagged Angst with a Happy Ending if that is any indication of the contents. I think the prologue actually might be posted on this blog somewhere.

Basically, Elayne saves Helaena from jumping, and Rhaenyra being in a slightly better mood that specific day incidentally saves Elayne from the chopping block. Elayne gets sent to the Black Cells instead.

Aegon finds her there thanks to Tyland Lannister informing him that someone else was in the Black Cells.

The Civil War basically wraps up while Elayne recovers.

Aemond and Elayne get to resolve their unresolved emotional issues where Elayne thinks that her platonic husband abandoned her to marry someone he actually loves while she was a prisoner.

Helaena gets to surprisingly be a little mad at Aemond for the above emotional conflict. Protective! Helaena is sweet. She's still distraught about everything, but after losing Elayne and then finding her again, this jostles her into a bit of action to be protective of both Elayne and Jaehaera.

Aegon is just happy everyone is alive honestly.

Daeron's recovering from the war somewhere probably. (Since he currently has not appeared in the show, idk what to do with him)

I debated about having the dragons die here, but I decided that Dreamfyre and maybe Vhagar get to make the author's life easier due to politics.

We probably get an in-text Helaena and Elayne Valyrian wedding.

There's a subplot about Larys being a dick to Elayne. (Since I am basically spoiling the fic at this point, he's the reason that it took the Greens awhile to realize she was in the Black Cells)

The middle part is not super planned out, but the ending is the Greens trying to resolve the aftermath of a civil war.

House Tully except for Elayne gets to take the Black (RIP Kermit and Oscar). Most everyone else on the Black side is executed or taking the Black, but Aegon III specifically is forced to take the Black first and they hold all others in King's Landing before sending them North. Rhaena and Baela get to be Silent Sisters. (I debated keeping Rhaena and Baela around to explore their characters more, because they deserve it! But I feel like the Greens would land on the more pragmatic side of sending them away and having them take vows.)

Now, at the end of the fic, we have A Situation, because Jaehaera is Aegon's heir now. There are whisperings of further strife because well, Jaehaera's a girl. Aemond at this point has a son with Alys Rivers but uh... do the nobles dislike placing the son of a bastard woman on the throne. Elayne and Aemond probably eventually have the kids I imagined they'd have, Aerion and Daenys.

Aerion is probably heir to the throne according to most nobles.

I'm a little unsure how I want to resolve this issue, because everyone involved would probably not want to marry Aerion and Jaehaera given that they are practically siblings given their weird family situation, and Aegon is not down for another round of incest. He hates the idea. Elayne knows its the most pragmatic solution but also hates the idea.

I think it would be really funny if these guys literally fought a war invalidating the female claim to the throne and then put Aegon's daughter on it. True hypocrisy, love that for them. Honestly, they probably just end up putting Elayne and Aemond's son on the throne to avoid Targaryen in-fighting in future generations.

Alys' son/descendants gets Harrenhal for however long the curse and cosmic forces allow.

Elayne's daughter/descendants gets Riverrun.

The events of Westerosi history is henceworth changed (because Butterfly Effect) and we probably never get the Game of Thrones events. If we did however, I imagine Robert's Rebellion goes completely differently because House Tully is likely still closely tied to House Targaryen (while Aegon and Elayne were committed to the not doing anymore incest, I feel like there would at some points still be an effort to "keep Valyrian bloodlines pure" and House Tully and Strong would be good contenders for future Targ marriages)

Anyway at the end of this hypothetical fic, there is probably a historical excerpt to see how Elayne is remembered in Westerosi history. She would be markedly more documented than in Neither Snake nor Dragon

—

My stumbling block for working on this AU is that I don't want to get attached to my own interpretation of Alys Rivers, and then have her show version be completely different (I already expect this possibility with the Muppet Tullys and perhaps in some way with the Greens).

I've tried cutting Alys' appearances in the fic down to a minimum but it feels strange to do that!

—

Anyway, there is also The Elayne Survives the War but Ends up Dying of Winter Fever AU in 132/133 AC. It is always a thought that I think about for how absolutely unfair it is. It's such a terrible AU timeline.

-

[wild-as-a-winter-storm]

HOTD season finale thoughts! 

Okay, so more Lannister content, yay! It was fun seeing Tyland’s stuff in essos, so sad remembering what’s to come for him though! 

Ooh aemond looking down on a burning sharp point! More ordinary people being destroyed by house Targaryen’s civil war! This is what it's about!

Oh dear, poor Jace! Ulf saying exactly the wrong things to him (though in fairness he doesn’t realise it). Ulf is generally really fun though, “Silverwing’s a goer” haha 

Another amazing Aegon and Larys scene, loved it! “Aegon the Realm’s Delight” haha (Tom Glynn Carney’s acting has been so good this season) 

Criston and Gwayne’s scene was actually really good, and no one's talking about it!

Daemon’s weirwood vision gave me a little bit too much of a GOT ick but there were some cool elements, seeing Bloodraven, the blood going down Daemon’s hands, him falling. The best Daemon thing for me though was him and rhaenyra’s reunion and him bringing his army to her side, great scene!

Corlys renaming his ship after rhaenys <3 

I actually really liked the scene with aemond, alicent and Helaena! Aemond’s a cool character, and I quite enjoy seeing him having these more horrible moments. 

Ooh and “I was happier before I was queen!” You know alicent was thinking “me too!” 

And then the scene with just Helaena and aemond was interesting too, I liked her standing up for aegon and holding aemond accountable for what he’s done and not being pushed around by him into doing something she doesn’t want to do! Also Helaena looked beautiful in that scene haha. One thing though, was that what she said about the god’s eye was a little too obvious imo. I don’t mind her giving away little bits of foreshadowing but that was going too far. 

Exciting that rhaena finally found sheepstealer, that was something I’d been hoping for for a while, though at the same time it is a shame that nettles is all but confirmed to not be in it now.

And finally, time to address the alicent and rhaenyra meeting… first of all, it's funny, at the beginning of that scene I was thinking why is daemon not in that bed with her, there’s no way they’re not fucking after that reunion! but then I realised this is probably not that night, it's later on, and she is in fact on dragonstone, haha. 

And also a nitpicky thing… why is rhaenyra in that hairstyle in bed? That is not a do that people would sleep in, and it is far too neat for someone who’s just got out of bed. 

But onto the more important things. The acting was amazing in this scene, Olivia and Emma are great together and there were some cool moments- I liked seeing Alicent biting her fingernails again like when she was young, and just generally rhaenyra’s attitude towards her was fun (she is FINALLY wanting her brother’s head, yes!!). But in general, a lot of the things they were saying just seemed so silly, particularly alicent. And the question of “why are you here??” did feel like the key one. This meeting would not happen. They are at war. (I have more thoughts about this specific element but I think I'm going to save them for a separate post).

And Alicent would never give up Aegon, just as Rhaenyra would never give up one of her sons if Alicent asked that of her. And it felt like a diminishing of Rhaenyra (and Daemon’s) accomplishment in taking King’s Landing if it’s going to just be because Alicent gave it to Rhaenyra.

And it was an interesting place to end it- on the one hand, I am glad that Jace isn’t gone yet, but on the other hand, as I said, the battle of the gullet would have been a good point to end this season, and I am still attached to the idea I had of one of rhaenyra’s sons dying at the end of each season (Luke, then Jace, then Joffrey) and finally for the forth, one of her sons becoming king. (Aegon iii). 

I did like those shots at the end of the different parties ready to go to war, they looked stunning, but again it does kind of go against the fact that the war should already have started ages ago. Including, of course, the shot of the Hightower force and tessarion… it was what I was kind of expecting, actually, that they would give us a glimpse of tessarion without showing or casting daeron. I was keenly watching the rider on her back though!

And I am already eagerly awaiting season 3, despite having some problems with this season. There was a lot I liked too, and there’s going to be a lot of exciting stuff, it'll be really interesting to see how they handle it! 

[aegor-bamfsteel]

About Jaehaera I do not think she shoud have been the mother of the children of Aegon III. The point is that it's a punishment for Alicent that her royal line becomes extinct. But I did dislike that she was killed for this to happen and I would have preferred if Martin had not married her at all to Aegon III, instead having her be forced to become a septa, which would fit with actual history, many women seen as "troublesome" were sent off to monasteries.

I think the source of our disagreement comes from different opinions on who “won” the Dance. You seem to think it’s a complete Black victory, so the Blacks can punish the remaining heir of the Green cause by sending her to a motherhouse (which can’t happen, as there’s still a faction behind her who would take it as an act of war to have their heiress disposed). I see it as more of a stalemate, with both sides exhausting themselves to the point only children and regents remain; the Greens technically won as Aegon II is an official king and the crowning female rulers was dealt a major blow, but then the Targaryen dynasty continues in the male line through Daemon (and Rhaenyra). We see with complete victories (such as post First Blackfyre or Robert’s Rebellion) that the losing houses gets land/privileges/children taken away, with no one from that side being in any position of power in King’s Landing. That’s clearly not the case at the end of the Dance, as Green supporters serve in the Kingsguard (Willis Fell, Marston Waters) or as regents/Small Council (Tyland Lannister, Unwin Peake) even after Jaehaera’s death.

“it’s a punishment for Alicent that her line becomes extinct” she wasn’t even alive to see Jaehaera fall, having died a few months before. I’m not exactly sure why Alicent is the one who gets “punished” (by whom? The author?) by the complete death of her descendants, yet Rhaenyra and Daemon’s live on despite them committing atrocities (torture, child murder, violation of due process). Plus, while sometimes characters in the story want the sins of the parents to be exacted on the children, it’s clear that the author thinks otherwise. In any case, Jaehaera living would’ve actually made Alicent’s grief stronger, because by the laws of Andal succession, she should’ve been ruling queen, but because of the war partially regarding female inheritance, she can’t and instead her male cousin (the son of her father’s rival) is heir over her. Incidentally, that’s the reason why so many of the prominent Green Houses—Lannister, Peake, Hightower, Baratheon—either have only female heiresses or are being run by female regents after most of the men were killed in the Dance; GRRM is undermining their claim regarding female rulers and inheritance.

Realistically, there wasn’t going to be any other option than Jaehaera as queen consort because again, the Green faction wants Aegon II’s children to inherit after him, and if she has to marry his heir—since he died without male issue—so be it. Although I agree that GRRM shouldn’t have killed her. I hate the idea that she committed suicide, because he never handles that issue seriously, and with a 10 year old girl it’s possibly worse. I don’t like the idea Unwin Peake killed her, because he’s a Green supporter and killing the last member of his faction for a shot at his only heir maybe being the new queen is stupid (but GRRM made Peake such a 1D villain of course he’s implicated in that as well. I remember people suggesting Corlys as the culprit before F&B came out and tbh that makes more sense considering the way the Targaryens treated the Velaryons before the War). I would’ve liked her to be a mother to the Aegon III kids as it gives the conflicts some kind of continuity instead of just feeling like an isolated incident about why there’s no dragons or many female claimants anymore.

[jaehaerysiitargaryen]

Who; Jaehaerys Targaryen and Tyland Lannister ( @casterlygldcs​ )

What; in the aftermath of the first surge of fighting, upon hearing of the struggle faced by the reachmen. tyland and insert your character are within a battle tent, set close to the docks. ten towers is still in the process of being taken

When; Post Jae’s face being burned. 

Where; War camp; harlaw

Note; This is canon banter between muses. Italics = thoughts and actions

tyland: do you understand it is here the tides could turn agains us? jaehaerys; I understand. I know. Be careful. Don't make any rash choices. tyland: and he doesn't break his gaze away from jaehaerys. the king he had nearly lost it all for. they would not expect to see you again.   tyland: show them. show them what your name knows better than any other. jaehaerys looks at him, he doesn't need to explain the damage to his left eye. It won't change his skill with a sword. He was trained by Ser Criston Cole and his Uncle Aemond. jaehaerys; what else do you want me to do? I'll do whatever it takes. He would do whatever it took to make sure people knew his name. Fire strengthened him. It's what they would say. tyland; and tyland's back leans against the chair which he was sat upon; across the map of the iron islands. he had marked an x on each mine, each resource; ready to drain when the time came. tyland: ten towers was always going to be the struggle. tyland: you are not a second. you are a targaryen, with the line of hightower. a prince. tyland: and should you ever wish to claim your crown with fire and blood, your men will look upon your behaviour now. tyland: lead one of the charges. jaehaerys; he stares at the map. his gaze scanning over the x's. running his tongue over his lips he nodded. listening. then he stopped and looked up at the king. jaehaerys; lead the charge alone or do you want me to lead the charge with jason? it was really just jason leading the charge if they did things that way. He is a man grown. It was time for him to be a man. Was the King giving him that?  jaehaerys; I can do this. I've done this. Even in the Dance, he was under someone else's charge. He led from the back of his dragon and on the ground others still held authority over him. He could do this. And one day...he would have his, in fire and blood. The beacon would glow and the streets would turn to rivers of blood. Right? tyland: when did i mention the prince? and tyland stares at him in the aftermath of his words, letting the silence sit between them. the prince would lead his own charge. they would come down like swarms, like the apocalypse, upon ten towers. and again, and again, and again, until they were mere flesh and blood on the floor. tyland: then, do it. jaehaerys; you did not. he was sick of being under the charge of someone else. he admired the prince. loved him. the prince was not the king and jae wanted the king to not regret not killing him. none of it mattered. this was about destroying the dogs of these lands. battering them into nothing. jaehaerys; Anything else your grace? tyland: no, jaehaerys. because he has no reason to doubt him, to think he couldn't handle it. he had made the tactical move, it was a charge that would come in increments. another would come after. and another. tyland: and what have you to say? jaehaerys; he nods, standing, pauses and looks at him carefully. Nothing. nothing at all. I'll see you after the fighting. tyland: and he nods, moving to face the pageboy that stood by the entrance of the tent that flapped in the wind with the sound of smoke tyland: see the prince of dragonstone out, and send me lord marbrand.

[duchess-of-oldtown]

House of the Dragon, Season 2, Episode 3 thoughts

Just clarifying, these are my own thoughts, you don't like them, don't bother telling me so. Also, I'm not a book purist, I like adaptions taking putting their own spin on things - if it makes sense to do so. So, here were my thoughts. Obvs, this post is dark and full of spoilers.

I like the Bracken-Blackwood thing. I like the injection of a little bit of history but also like pettiness.

Jace, get out of your mother's ear. Can you even tell which one is Arryk or Erryk?

Rhaenys giving us slay as usual. Eve Best really gets the greatest lines.

I really like Criston Cole's squire. I don't know, he reminds me of Pod.

Criston pulling that managers face right there. We've all been on both sides of that.

Ironrod, they could never make me hate you. Master of Shade

Tyland stop bullying the Grand Master.

Harrenhal is giving all these guys a hard on. It's not even that nice a castle (before yall come for me, I know it's importance)

Aemond teasing Aegon at the Council, that younger sibling grin

Mysaria's gown looks so comfy. Her scenes are alright, better than before

Rhaenyra vs Mysaria has to get away from the whole Daemon thing. That vibe is still there and it gives me two exes sniping at one another.

I get Rhaena's annoyance but it's also an opportunity.

The Harrenhal scenes were perfect. The ambience, the setting it's all *chef kiss*.

I hate the whole Prince Consort vs King thing. For one, it's completely against etiquette and the rules but also in the book, Daemon never needed to be King, he was supporting his Queen.

There's Alys.

Daemon "I'm claiming harrenhal". Yes, girl we see

Simon I give you this castle, also dinner is on the table, it's not great but it's good" Strong, you were the best thing in this episide. " Also, this exchange feels written by George RR Martin.

Grover Tully is getting it tonight

Daemon defending an ill lord paramount's abilities, he's thinking of Viserys

Gwayne Hightower, you're giving me Harry Hardying had a baby with Alfie Allen vibes

Cole's hair... I don't know how to feel.

Alicole doing the whole courtly love shit, as if Cole wasn't on his knees that morning. She pegs him, Your Honour

I need whiter Kingsguard Cloaks.

If they fucking mansplain, ridicule or correct Rhaenyra one more time, I fucking Harrenhal them. Who the fuck are these men?

Rhaenys, eating as usual, mic drop

Rhaenys and Corlys, I know they're setting us up for what happens, but *mournful screaming*. She's standing on a little crate 😭 Corlys beefing with baby Joffrey. Corlys grabbing his lady's hips while talking about heirs is my new roman empire

Let me see Stormcloud and Tyraxes

I wanted a little more conflict with Baela and Rhaena. But Baela assuring her is top tier.

Joffrey with his mummy 😭😭😭 Jace too. It's the last time Rhaenyra will see Viserys.

Helaena's speech, I think I know what's about to happen there. The families of the rat catchers + that riot. Also Helaena isn't forgiving Alicent for Cole, she's forgiving her for the war

Aegon looks so lil in his armour.

DID THEY SAY THE ARMOUR WAS VALYRIAN STEEL? MOTHERFUCKERS

Kingslanders partying as only Kingslanders can

Ulf the White's scenes are good but Baelon the Brave? You want me to believe that Baelon the Brave cheated on Alyssa?

I did not need to see Aemond's dick. Aemond you should be out committing atrocities not getting it wet

FUCK HIM UP MOONDANCER, FUCK HIM UP

Also Baela the trees are flammable.

Daemon take Dark Sister out of there it's too damp for her

YOUNG RHAENYRA - this is how guest stars should appear, with no warning and with the actors swearing they aren't ever coming back.

Also, Alys is American?

Rhaenyra slaying in her Septa Unella cos play. I wonder whether that's the same wimple

I loved the Rhaenyra and Alicent exchange but it was still such a dumb idea. This exchange is heartbreaking, there are parts that feel sitcomy and I love it.

Rhaenyra's lil face when she thought Viserys changed his mind

Alicent's lil... "oh Aegon the Conqueror... '

Over all 9/10