#It's mostly about Slay the Princess

[arimiadev]

this month I got to sit down with @blacktabbygames to talk about their approach to developing Slay the Princess and how they market visual novels!

read it here:

[clowwwnbytes]

slay the princess pristine cut spoilers etc

i was brainstorming with buddies on discord and started thinking about damsel ch3 having the blade with her, already pointed at her heart, then just started thinking about the blade as a tool.

i think about the blade so much. a cold reminder of your mission in this world, something so tiny that represents a huge wall between you, your ability to be willing to understand others, to understand yourself.

if you bring it with you you've chosen to take a defensive stance against something and someone you don't understand, but it's so comforting, it gives you options, it gives you control over any situation given you don't underestimate the person standing in front of you. even when you don't want it, when you think you don't need it, it will come back to you. a nagging feeling. you're given the option to be distrustful even when you don't literally have it in you, it's what you've been taught is safety, it hangs over your head and dangles above your heart at all times.

and in damsel ch3 it goes from a tool given weight by the role you're supposed to play, to the same thing but looming over her this time. the expectations of what you're supposed to want and what's best for the people around you and what keeps you grounded, the narrator sang the same tune before, and he hurt her and he hurt you. he hurt himself and his humanity in the process. and now he's taken the backseat and is forced to see how messed up that is by having the smitten be the one pulling the strings of the construct, someone with a perspective so different, but one that ends up hurting everyone all the same, even if he doesn't intend it to do so.

everyone is forced to look at themselves in the mirror.

carrying that blade is suffocating for anyone.

and now im thinking about mr. "let's throw it out the window" contrarian, the only voice you can bring to her heart along with the hero, someone that refused to engage with the narrative and someone that is well aware that his perspective is annoying and unneeded for its purposes.

and then he meets the whole of her, and she tells him about how his courage is beautiful. he's the part of the long quiet that knowingly or not, is more willing to throw aside any kind of logic in order to understand a situation in a way the rest don't want to, and he's *now* realizing that his existence is an important aspect to have.

[tapestryundone]

constantly thinking abt the long quiet and the shifting mound and their relationship w humanity. because the two are very much not mortal and even in the what happens next ending its very ambiguous if they ever WILL be or Can be. but even still they have both felt what its like to be mortal

i feel like its vague if the entity the two used to be even percieved its own existence. the way the narrator talks about it makes it seem like the two only existed conceptually and as a result lacked a complete sense of identity, and didnt need to, and wouldnt want to. but in the same way a thought cannot be unthought, the narrator gave them a glimpse into what it felt like to be mortal and the two can never un-know it, even if it wasnt exactly the same

the long quiet in particular seems especially tied to humanity and in some aspects seems to want to BE human (which feels so potent given how decidedly Not human he is). the game tends to imply that every option you get is a thought he DOES have, and in the spaces between, the choices dont seem as influenced by a given voice, which highlights even more how much he feels conflicted on his own nature that he gets Multiple options to express discomfort with himself being a god

it just gets to me how one of the options during the fight is literally "appeal to your shared humanity". because even if the two are gods, their separation and reshaping has given them humanity that they can never un-feel. for how much the shifting mound grieves what she once was, she cannot will her humanity away. shes mourning what the two of them once was and is desperate to have it back at any cost, even though they can never be together how they once were.

even if the long quiet goes with her, theyre still apart and lack balance, because the two once just Were and werent two parts. they werent both halves, they werent two concepts, they were just one concept that happened to, by human eyes, consist of two halves. and the narrators insertion of humanity into the mix in order to separate them, separating them into concepts that humans understood, manually put into existence a struggle for equilibrium where that balance had simply Existed

but theyve already perceived what felt like reality and can never un-see it. they were separated and Need the other to feel whole and for reality to BE whole but the moment that either of them realized their own free will, the moment the two fully came to feel like people, they could never be together the same way once again

im struggling to come up with a metaphor that isnt silly but its like if you took a piece of fabric and cut it in two and made them both into shirts. youve added a piece of humanity into them and doing so cost its original form. to take them apart and try to put them back together would never get you the original, whole piece of fabric back, because theyve been completely changed by their own unique destruction and reconstruction

they were separated in a way that gave them humanity that they have such conflicting feelings on. both seem to have a deep love of humanity but vastly different ideas on what humanity needs to thrive, because its in their natures

in order to get one to kill the other the narrator let the long quiet interpret the both of them as mortal. and for a being of perception and an god thats being lied to, this became part of their limited view of the world, on top of all the other reasons that the two gained humanity. the long quiet couldnt be told what to do if he didnt have the ability to potentially act on the narrators desires, and the shifting mound could never die if the long quiet didnt believe her to be capable of death

the narrator gave the two humanity and the shifting mound is very reasonably distressed by this. because the two of them never asked for this but they cant undo it. it is her OWN subtle desire for things to be the same as they used to be, her own piece of that stagnation that also led to her experiencing humanity, that makes her so adamant during the fight. she misses the long quiet and wants to undo a change that cannot be undone in search of a constant state of being that was taken from her

and the long quiet felt so closely tied to mortality, both its existence and absence, that no matter what, he wants to aid humanity. but hes been lied to and denied autonomy to the point where he doesnt know what that entails. but he wants to be a part of it. he was given fake mortality and cant seem to figure out how he feels

the shifting mound is set in how she feels it best to aid in the existence of life. she is stagnant in her feelings because its all that feels right to her. the long quiet is ever-shifting in how he feels it best to aid in the existence of life. he is changing in his feelings because its all that feels right to him

getting to the heart of the shifting mound allows them a moment to discuss it as the closest they can get to mortals. the two care about their impact on life and what it means to be alive and what better way for the two of them to truly decide what they want to do about it, outside of the conflict thats been forced between them, than as the mortals they never were?

[voiceofthe]

princess concept i've been thinking about is like. let's just go all in on those options that are like "no i'm fine with the world ending." you go down to the basement and tell her that you were sent to kill her because she's going to end the world, and that's why you're going to get her out of there. the princess, momentarily shocked and wanting to protest, quickly readjusts to the idea. the narrator completely flips out and tries to take over as quickly as possible. i'm tentatively calling the chapter 2 of this the harbinger with a chapter 3 being the dawn

[momentomori24]

Going through the new routes in Pristine Cut really just confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that the majority of the voices have something (or a LOT of things) deeply wrong with them 💀

[determinedowl23]

Being in the Slay the Princess and Les Mis fandoms are surprisingly similar experiences.

One half is dedicated to the two central characters who have an intense rivalry but are also weirdly drawn to each other. These characters are simultaneously very similar and very different and have a very complex relationship that fans love to explore.

The other half is dedicated to a large group of characters that aren’t the main focus of the story but still play a really significant part. These groups both have a designated leader who sticks for his cause until the very end as well as a wide variety of other members that fans love to put in more casual situations. (also the yaoi there’s a lot of yaoi)

[mantisgodsdomain]

Finished Slay The Princess.

Final order of princesses: The Stranger, The Damsel, The Moment of Clarity, The Prisoner, The Wounded Wild

Final number of princesses killed: Somewhere between 0 and 0.5

Final number of princesses slain: 0

Out of all of the Princesses, The Beast ranked at #1 enthusiasm from the liveblog chat and #7 (out of 7) at amount of coherent commentary made. #1 comment across all routes was "women" from all members of chat. Had a lot of fun doing it. We are really, really bad at slaying princesses.

[toxic-codependent-yuri]

Do abled and neurotypical people understand the comfort we feel in the realm of horror? To finally be in control of a narrative rather than to just be trapped. Many of us are self aware but unable to change. To look at the nature of the horrifying and monstrous and say "I understand you. I see myself in you."

The unifying feeling of being seen and understood. Whether it's through a character, a monster, a concept.

And how much of a shame it is. That these are our options for comfort.

[the-voldsoy]

yall i reallyyy want to play Slay The Princess, however the only video game ive ever played is tetris and mario kart for the wii. is this a bad idea

[privilegedjester]

started watching a playthrough of slay the princess and I'm already writing essays to my friends just fawning over it

[righteousdelusions]

Got omori and Cuphead AMONOOOOOOS

[bridge-arsonist]

Why The Voice Of The Cold Hates The Narrator

Replaying the Nightmare -> Wraith route and I'm realizing...

Jesus fucking christ, The Cold hates the narrator. Honestly, I think he might just give Smitten or Contrarian a run for their money.

He:

Doubts every word the narrator speaks

Insults the narrator whenever he gets the chance

Actively suggests killing the narrator, even stating that the princess could help do that

Not only suggests killing the narrator, but also suggests that—no—actually, death is too good for the guy. They should lock the narrator in a void just like the fake good ending. Mind you, this route doesn't even have the narrator do that!

Mocks the narrator when he finally gives up on trying to make you slay the princess

Seems happy that the narrator is gone, saying he had a feeling The Wraith could deal with him

I'm pretty sure Cold over here'd rather be playing Slay The Narrator.

Really though, upon further reflection, The Cold's hatred for The Narrator is also prevalent in The Spectre, where one of the few things he actually seems to have a firm stance on is "We should kill the Narrator". In the Greys, though he's arguably at his most nihilistic, he still seems to oppose the Narrator. He joins the Skeptic in his suspicions, and though he mostly just seems to be having a time provoking Smitten during the Burned Grey, he still does take the occasional second to spite the Narrator.

And honestly, come to think about it, it makes sense. After all, the Cold manifests not necessarily from slaying the Princess, but more specifically, from killing yourself. But not just from killing yourself, slaying yourself in The Tower at the hands of the Broken doesn't manifest him, but specifically by killing yourself to spite the narrator. I mean, other than Empty Cup and Moment of Clarity (Where we don't actually know how he manifested due to the timeskips), each iteration of Cold's manifestation checks out.

Spectre: You slay her, get the good ending, but then decide "fuck this and fuck your contruct", and stab yourself even as the narrator repeatedly urges you not to.

Burned Grey: You kill the Damsel, and in a fit of rage against both you and the narrator, the Smitten kills you, even as the narrator urges him not to. (Funnily enough, this means that, despite the Smitten's line of "you killed her, and so I killed you", it was the opposite, and the Smitten manifested the Cold)

Drowned Grey: You kill the Prisoner, and, just like in the Spectre's route, you kill yourself even as the Narrator urges you not to. If you refuse to kill yourself, Skeptic does it for you, seeming apologetic towards you, but definitely not towards The Narrator.

Wraith: You kill yourself as the Narrator urges you not to, and Paranoid also spends this route doubting the Narrator.

These routes involve various levels of emotion for the Princess, ranging from "My love! Still gonna kill you though" to "So scary! Still gonna kill you though", and an overall perception of the Princess as a corpse. But the Narrator? In all of the routes leading up to Cold's manifestation, the Narrator is met with hostility, usually leading to you killing yourself out of a mix of spite and suspicion.

So Cold's manifestation has two constants:

Some level of apathy towards the Princess, regardless of your previous interactions with her. Whether she's your perfect damsel or your worst nightmare, you don't care. You stab her.

Disregard for your own safety. You're just going to stab yourself, cool. It's better than this hell. Sometimes it's another voice fulfilling this requirement for you, like Smitten in the Damsel, or Skeptic in Prisoner depending on whether or not you willingly die.

Distaste towards the narrator. A conclusion that the Narrator is untrustworthy and distinctly not on your side. No matter how you manifest the Cold, it is clear that you do not like this pesky raven one bit. The Nightmater -> Wraith route shows this through Paranoid's constant suspicion of the Narrator. This distaste frequently, thought not always, occurs due to the Narrator attempting to force you to live out your life in the void, though it can also occur due to the Narrator attempting to make you live a life without the one thing you cherish (Damsel route).

Apathy towards most things, but one thing's for certain: You don't trust that Narrator guy. He tried to make you live out a crappy, boring life for eternity.

Cold's attitude makes sense when you look at how he was created. Just like Smitten was made by deciding the princess was an immediately trustworthy damsel in need of rescuing from the pesky narrator, or that the witch is a gorgeous woman whom you can save by giving your blade in spite of the narrator's wishes—Cold is made through deciding that neither your nor the princess's safety particularly matters, but fuck that narrator guy. He sucks. As apathetic as the Cold likes to act, he reacts to Smitten's threats and the Princess's murder attempts with "interesting", and reacts to the Narrator's explanation of the timeline with "we should kill him".

So, my point?

Well, I think that—not only does the Cold hate the Narrator—but hating the Narrator is part of him as a voice. He's cold, apathetic, and he hates the Narrator. It's been baked into his very being through the choices that you make. The princess doesn't matter, your physical well-being doesn't matter, but know that the Narrator is an untrustworthy little prick.

TLDR: Replaying Wraith made me realize that the Cold probably hates the Narrator very very much, and he does so because it is baked into his very being because of the choices you made to manifest him. You go, king. Let your inner hater run free.

[moviecritc]

✦ ˚ : · CHILL GIRL (HONESTLY, SHE'S NOT) ⋆ ALEXANDRA SAINT MLEUX, CHARLES LECLERC 🦢

pairing ☆ charles leclerc x singer! reader x alexandra saint mleux

summary ☆ you and alex broke up because she suggested charles to join your relationship, and you're really mad about it

warnings ☆ hate comments (mostly for alex, but it's just for the plot), mixed smau, arguments

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

masterlist | letterboxd

tags; @iamred-iamyellow @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @changetyre @ilovechickenwings @callsignwidow @inejghafawifesblog @formulaal @niyu2208 @ilivbullyingjeongin @magnummagnussen @astmclaren455 @sp1rl @only-nope @eyerollerr

yourusername just posted!

liked by charlesleclerc, sukiwaterhouse and 312,502 others

yourusername MILAN WHAT THE FUUUCK !1!11!!!!!! You were so loud and SO MANY i still can't believed that i got to play my silly little songs infront of that much people. giggling and kicking my feet atm 💌💌

view all comments

user1 now why is charles in the likes and not alexandra

user2 honestly this is getting out of hand user3 yn keeps terrorizing their images in her concerts and they're in her likes. it makes absolutely no sense user4 there's a rumor that alex cheated on y/n with charles and that charles was also attracted to y/n aswell user5 lol what

user6 THANK YOU FOR COMING WE LOVE YOUU

user7 i'm so in love with her

user8 i hope that she's fine, she seemed tired these days

user9 she's performing heartbroken it's normal to be tired

user10 your music saved me, y/n ❤️ liked by author

user11 omg she liked it!!

reneerapp collab when?

user12 I WOULD DIE FOR THAT user13 Y/N RENEÉ I'M BEGGING YOU user14 this would be a dream ngl

user15 i met her in the backstage and she was the sweetest woman in the world, she took time to talk to my friends and me. it was amazing

user16 i just want to be half as cool as her

alexandrasaintmleux just posted on her story!

[caption: red for today 🖤]

replies

user17 matching with y/n's tour outfit?

charlesleclerc très belle❤️

user18 ferrari red or my kink is karma red?

yourusername 🖤

yourusername just posted!

liked by charli_xcx, charlesleclerc and 401,452 others

yourusername This bitch is @ tiny deskk. Thank you for having me this evening and for the interview, i had so much fun darlings

Go check out the tiny concert and the interview at tiny desk yt channel 🎱✨🦢🖤

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user19 slay slay slay

charli_xcx tiny desk BIG VOICE

yourusername hold on while i scream user20 the only opinion from a charl- that matters

user21 HER STYLE ^^^^

user22 the interview was WILD

user23 we've been waiting for over a month for the rumors to be clear

rachelzegler 4 + 4??

user24 ATE 🗣️

user25 yeah everyone is noticing her now, but at what costs

user26 she's always been incredible, stfu user27 it's not her problem that her ex's bf is a dick

alex's chat with charles

charlesleclerc just posted a story!

replies

alexandrasaintmleux charles what are you doing?? are you being serious??

alexandrasaintmleux she adressed the rumors yesterday, you idiot. it would've ended there but you just ruined it.

alexandrasaintmleux just posted!

📍Madrid, Spain

liked by francisca.cgomes, yourusername and 43,104 others

alexandrasaintmleux far from home 🍓🖤

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user28 gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous

user29 charles not liking??

user30 AND Y/N DID

user31 y/n back in the likes omggg

user32 the world is healing

francisca.cgomes wait i'm trying to spell gorjus liked by author

user33 y/n and she complemented each other soo well

user34 i miss them user35 you guys know they broke bc of something right?? like they didn't ended their relationship bc they were good. something bad was going on between them user36 yeah it's @/charlesleclerc user37 and she tags him ijbol

user38 GUYS !!!! y/n performing in madrid this weekend !!!! THEY'RE SEEING EACH OTHER

user39 ALEX AT THE MIDWEST PRINCESS TOUR VIP TENT??? user40 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

user41 she's putting space between charles and her

user42 PLEASE TELL ME YOU LEAVE CHARLES

yourusername just posted!

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, ynupdates and 612,830 others

yourusername playing mermaids with y'all tonight was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G madrid 🖤🖤🧜🧜

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rachelzegler how does it feels being the prettiest and more talented women?

yourusername you tell me user43 this duo>>>

user44 i really thought alex was coming tonight

user45 we didn't see her but my senses tell me she was on backstage

user46 obsessed isnt a strong enough word for how i feel abt this outfit its so pretty

yourusername just posted on her story!

[caption 1: OMG OMG OMG]

replies

user47 Y/N WHAT R YOU DOING

user48 HAHAHAHAHAHA

user49 you're actually the funniest person alive

user50 not the same phrase charles used-

user51 y/n woke up an chose violence

alexandrasaintmleux i'm so proud of you btw 🖤

already working on part 3 :))

[wwwjam]

Chapter II: The Hare >Her basement< >Chapter III<

Basic Route info and theoretical end speech beneath the cut.

To be frank, I mostly just wanted to draw Princess as a bunnygirl, but I did still have some thoughts about the route, though nothing too in-depth. Rather than come up with a new dialogue option, I figure it'd be best to take advantage of options that are already there. Currently, both instances of slaying the Princess when the Narrator compels you lead to Witch, but what if the second time led you somewhere else? Internal logic: Soft Princess has just dodged your first (initially unwilling) strike, proving to be swift enough to avoid you, though clearly in a panic. Despite her unease, she's much faster than you. Like you're a... tortoise, and she's the Hare... Just roll with it. (I don't think anyone's noticed/mentioned her crown has that turtle shape on it)

For the snow thing, I just wanted to give her a dress that'd allow her to run, but didn't want to go with a loincloth like design a la Adversary. I settled on that short, fur trimmed one and thought "what if there was snow" and hey, now there's some manner of conflict and explanation for why she's not chained up and is able to avoid you.

And extremely early draft of a theoretical Shifting Mound speech. For context, I imagine you have to sort of chase Hare out of the cabin. Make her choose between constantly avoiding you, or heading into the freezing winter air she's afraid of. "Survive, evade, run. Flee, escape, take shelter, hide, live another day. But death comes all the same, whether it waits outside your door, or comes barreling through it. Do you look it in the eye, meet it on your own terms, or do you keep running, do you keep hiding? You drove me to make a choice, and only in choosing to confront the cold death I feared was I truly alive. One always has a choice to make, even in fear.

But without that fear of the end, do one's choices truly matter? Can a life mean anything if your decision to survive, or to die, is as meaningless as your decision to breathe? Is being given that choice so unimportant to you?" -That fear is what pushes one to survive, but it makes life itself terrifying. "Or is it the terror itself that makes life worth surviving? The fear of not seeing what comes tomorrow?" -I would never take that choice from you, or from others. "Then make your own choice to join with me once again, and give back that choice to the world."

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

Warnings - Family trouble, violence, father issues, general suffering, teenagers getting their ass beat by said individuals over 18, not proof read.

Author's note ● Essentially part two of the previous chapter, get ready for some major mischief next chapter.

Word Count ~ 5.4k+

Tags - @mamawiggers1980

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi ● vii● viii ● ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

ix - 'The Last Supper'

The supper had gone on in relative peace, a quiet contempt lingering in the background but mostly, it seemed the Blacks and Greens of House Targaryen stuck to their relative side when it came to conversation. A few passing crude comments from Aegon had won the glares of Visenya and her siblings, especially when they were targeted towards Jace and Baela’s betrothal, but a scattering of toasts, seemingly made in good will seemed to draw attention away from the brewing tension.

There were a few moments, Visenya might wonder if such contempt would erupt into something larger, however it seemed to be kept at bay by the King’s presence, most specifically after his speech which although seemed to harbour some kind of effect upon both the Queen and Rhaenyra – his words of familial love landed upon death ears of the younger members of House Targaryen. There was little love to rekindle, if there ever any to begin with – and the wounds that had been made had festered for so long that they had rotted into their very bones. There would be no reconciliation between the two Green Prince’s and the Black siblings. Of course, Princess Helaena being the odd one out in which no one seemed to have any bone to pick with her. It was that in which sparked Prince Jacaerys to offer the lonesome princess a dance. Most specifically after Helaena had made a toast, mentioning her brother-husband Aegon’s neglect.

Visenya had noticed the exchange between her two uncles as they watched their sister dance freely, with her brother. She’d never seen Heleana smile or laugh brightly; it was rather heartwarming in truth.

But such a scene had a dark shadow casted upon it, as Prince Aemond turned his body to face his sister, and Prince Jacaerys – his jaw hardened by the sight of one his half-sister's bastard spawn daring to make such a brazen gesture. However, Aemond’s glare would be brought to a halt, as in his illness, King Viserys grew weary, spawning all eyes to draw upon him as his wife, Alicent called for the old man to be taken back to bed to rest.

As Visenya gazed with a glimmer of sorrow within her eyes upon her withering Grandsire, she noticed the servants pass, holding what seemed to be but a rather large pig, stuffed with an apple in her mouth. The princess had always thought such a sight was particularly gruesome – even more gruesome than any bloodshed she had witnessed earlier that day.

It was a rather cruel gesture, to slaughter something then display it’s cooked corpse with little but an apple shoved into it's mouth. It hardly seemed appetising at all, it seemed brutal. She had supposed it was what she had liked so much about dragons, despite such chaos one could unleash, they were not brutal in the way men were. They do not require their meals be presented so prettily as to draw attention from the fact they had slayed a creature to feed. Death by dragonfire was quick, easy. No apple required.

Visenya’s thoughts were soon brought back to the supper as the small snicker of Lucerys was heard beside her. She followed his gaze as he looked upon the pig, then up to Aemond. One thought in her mind.

The Pink Dread.

The young prince Lucerys giggled again, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. He thought longingly to the prank he had pulled upon his uncle, it seemed after all these years he had forgotten the mischief that had been made in the name of poking fun at his uncle’s lack of a dragon in their youth.

Visenya’s face dropped for a moment, both in amusement and apprehension – as she noted the one eyed stare from across the table. Oh, he knew…

It was clear, Aemond was once again being mocked so subliminally – so underhandly that none else upon the table had noticed the smarmy flicker of Luke’s eyes, nor the raised brow of his harlot sister. The one-eyed Prince had grown rather adapt to people’s expressions, having become suspicious of them for most of his life from the troubles in his youth. The fact that the bastards before him have gotten away with so freely tormenting him, so openly maiming and disregarding him, made Aemond’s blood boil beyond the point of consolation. No, there would be no reassuring, he cannot just break bread and forgive the suffering he has endured. He would not stand for a bastard born of a whore Princess and her lesser House lover to continue to show him no respect. He would not dare to take the mocking of the boy who stole his eye, who was weak and craven. Born of lesser blood, lesser nobility – illegitimacy. Born of his mother’s constant whoring, and the lecherous men who indulged in it.  

Nor would he tolerate the half-brained Targaryen bastard beside him snickering in Aemond’s wake either. Another product of the degeneracy of his Uncle Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra. Another abomination to the House Targaryen name. Regardless of how fare Visenya’s face or big her tits – it was all artifice to cover the rotting wench beneath. All sorcery to distract men from the fact she was conceived in a brothel by way of sin, then pawned off as another man’s child. Though, at least she was a bastard of royal blood. At least she had Prince Daemon as a father and not some brute of the Riverlands. That saved her in some regard from Aemond’s ire – but it was not necessarily for anything other than his own envy. Visenya, unlike her brothers was less craven, she had not bothered to pretend to settle any dust between them. Not played into any idea they were capable of making amends. And the only one who had ever bothered to show him some level of acknowledgement, once.

Though he had tried to keep it at bay, he did oft think of his niece in their youth, the time she had found him crying in the Dragonpits. How she did, to some degree attempt to console his humiliation. He had also remembered how she once defended him against Aegon’s torment, how he had not returned the favour – yet… she for some reason unbeknownst to him, went out of her way to punish Aegon.

As he glared across from Visenya, his gaze still hard and temper still soaring, Aemond found himself grow more angered by this. Angered because it had amounted to nothing, amounted to him being pushed back into the dirt by her. Betrayed.

He felt a swarming sense of disgust, he was but a boy and she tricked him. Made him feel the beginnings of kinship or trust. Bewitched him into believing she thought him anything more than pathetic and weak. It was all an elaborate jest, all another way to mock him.

But when it finally came down to it, when she could have proven herself not a traitorous slut, more devoted to her Strong bastard half-brothers, then a Prince born of her House… Visenya had turned away. She had looked away as her snickering little brother ripped Aemond’s very eye from its socket. Looked away when Aemond had coiled upon the ground in pain, blood pooling from his face and she protected the boy. She protected Luke knowing what he had done. Knowing that she could have stopped her foul siblings from beating and maiming Aemond. And for that reason, all traces of the seeds of kinship and affection were lost between them.

She could rise above her bastardy, become a great Targaryen as I, or as her father. But she indulges in her own depravity as they all do.

Aemond’s eye then narrowed upon Luke who still had a vile smile upon his young face, he noted how the boy had let out a harsh snicker as he noticed Aemond’s rising irritation. His mind went from wrathful to blackened.

The bastard mocks me, yet he thinks me the same boy who shall swallow his pride and conceal his temper. They all mock me, yet they think I shall turn the other cheek by virtue of breaking bread and kinship of blood… all know what they are, Strong bastards. They are not of my blood. They do not look like my blood nor behave like my blood. They are stains, lesser bred stains, who mock me to conceal the fact it is they who are outsiders, they who do not belong at a dragon’s table, nor their voices being heard by the realm. They are rats spoiling our line. They are the defect that spoils Targaryen blood. What irony they are 'Strong' when their legitimacy as royals is so weak.

Before Aemond could prevent himself, his temper had made his fist fly upon the table sending him to stand swiftly. He raised his goblet and then,

“Final tribute. To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise...” His soft voice silencing all idle chatter, all music swiftly stopping and the dancing Helaena and Jacaerys, too, stopped in their tracks.

Aemond watched with satisfaction as the heads upon the table had turned, he relished in their wide eyes, their bated breath. “Hm..” His eye widened, like a shark upon smelling blood, his softened his voice further, “…Strong.”

Visenya took a breath out, at that word. He must think himself terribly clever. She was already exasperated by the scene before her, she couldn’t even be angry at this point for it was only a matter of time before the pretence would be done away with. She sat back, noting the way her little brother’s face had dropped. The princess let her hand fall to Luke’s wrist, as he placed his goblet down, preventing him from exacerbating the situation.

As a bitter silence fell over the table, Queen Alicent brought her hands to her face in concern, her tone low, warning, “Aemond.”

But all warnings were lost upon the prince, as he smiled with satisfaction, gazing at Jace before raising his goblet further, his tone mockingly jovial, “Come… let us drain our cups to these three…Strong boys.”

Below him, Prince Aegon joined his brother in the false toast, his goblet raised as he looked glibly upon Luke and Jace.

To which both dark haired prince’s found themselves beyond the point of anger, and Jace in his rashness found his fists clenched tightly, his voice a dignified bark, “I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond turned his head swiftly, “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment.” Slowly, he stalked towards his nephew, “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Prince Jacaerys had found himself already moving towards his silver haired uncle, and before he could stop himself, the young prince had slammed his fist against Aemond’s face. Before Visenya had even noticed, Luke escaped her grip sauntering towards Prince Aegon who had gleefully joined the brawl.

Aegon grabbed Luke swiftly, forcing his head into the table, sending herself and her sisters to their feet. “Luke-” Visenya barked.

Her brow furrowed in anger as once again, as she went to charge at Aegon, but she was met with her father’s hand suddenly grabbing at her wrist.

She looked into Daemon's eyes, and the rage that brewed within her fell away as she eased. She could not indulge; she could not get involved once again in such disputes. Not after what had happened last time.

In the corner, Rhaena was forcing her sister Baela back, as the young Lady had watched as her betrothed, Jacaerys was forced to the ground by a snickering Aemond.

“That is enough!” Queen Alicent had shouted harshly at her son.

The one eyed Prince, whom had barely so much as winced after being punched, chuckled gleefully, as he turned away from his fallen nephew. He had pushed Jace with such ease, it was not worth much more of a fight to Aemond, for he would easily beat them, and he took little pleasure in an unworthy opponent. It was no challenge.

Before any could comprehend, the guards had seized the two dark haired princes, pulling them away as now, all members of the table had risen. Daemon had let go of Visenya as they flocked to the detained Lucerys and Jacaerys, who still in their anger struggled to accost their uncles once more.

As Visenya had finally reached her younger brothers, she suddenly gripped at the hand of one of the guards who being particularly rough with Jace, her tone fierce, “OFF!” The princess pulled his thick hand free from her brother, and she gripped his arm.

Jace’s brown eyes seemed red with a dire fury, she gripped his wrist harder her expression giving a fair warning to temper his nerve. Their mother was now at their side, holding her belly as she looked upon her children with a slight despair.

Visenya turned her head and noticed the auburn hair of Alicent whipping around the table as she swiftly pulled Prince Aemond close, reprimanding him slightly out of ear shot.

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?” Alicent’s eyes were wide and unsettled as she gazed upon the sharp, satisfied features of her son.

She had always known there was something particularly strange about Aemond, strange of how easily such impulse for inciting such disharmony came to him and how he seemed to be unable to resist all desire to act upon whatever rage dwelled within him.

The prince narrowed his eye upon his mother, her hand gripping at his wrist tightly. He crooned and spoke again, his tone incendiary, “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” Aemond tilted his head, ready to spark a greater fire, “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

With that he had ripped his hand straight from his mother’s grasp with ease, turning sharply as he approached his nephews and Visenya. His eye landing on Princess as she had gripped the arm of Luke too now, putting them both behind her.

Though it was little use, because Jace was far stronger than she and forced his way from her grasp, leading him to charge once more at Aemond as Lucerys had once again been held back.

The sudden sound of her father’s voice, made all come to a stop. “Wait! Wait…”

Daemon raised his finger, stepping in between Jace and Aemond. He gave Jace a look of warning as the dark haired boy slowly retreated and Princess Visenya now gripped Jace again forcing him further back.

“Go to your quarters. All of you go, now.” Rhaenyra spoke sternly, her eyes scanning the flock of young Targaryen’s before her. Visenya had felt Jacaerys force himself from her grip as her siblings moved away. Her eyes came to her mother and father who both gazed upon her and she felt a sudden disturbance fill her.

Visenya then shot a glare at Aemond, who stood with his shoulders peaked – his eye all but narrowing upon the Princess and she stepped forward. She couldn’t believe him, couldn’t believe the arrogance, the foolishness, she had almost wished she had let her brothers loose upon the cunt.

They both stood there for a moment, Prince Daemon separating the two as they glared with all the hatred in the world upon each other. The two knowing of what had transpired in the past, the truth of it, the failure of reconciliation and betrayal that went beyond just what their family’s knew of. The quiet moments between them in which were yes, strained but undoubtedly flickering sparks of trust or understanding. Visenya felt disgust coil upon her face as she looked into Aemond’s lonesome eye, thought it would be hard to say a sense of guilt didn’t follow such feelings.

A hard hand meeting her shoulder forced her from such thoughts, she looked up to meet Daemon’s eyes, her fathers’ eyes and her head bowed slightly as she backed away.

 Aemond tilted his own as he watched the princess concede to her father, he almost wanted to laugh, to shout in righteousness. To see her narrowed eyes weaken before Daemon, stirred Prince Aemond in a manner which he didn’t quite understand. He had only ever seen such utter surrender of Visenya to her father, and that was what pleased him the most… she had to pretend such surrender was merely respect of her mother’s husband. She had to restrain the urge to behave as a daughter would to her father, to concede and resist revolting against him. His eye followed Visenya as she walked after her siblings.

The one eyed prince soon found his body stiffening as felt his uncle turning to face him, a small almost glib sigh leaving Daemon’s mouth. An odd tension brewed, a strange comradery he thought. Aemond felt himself buzz, itching to indulge in more of his anger, to show them exactly what he was capable of. What he was so eager to do so and when he looked into the eyes of his uncle, he could’ve sworn he saw the same in Daemon, a match, an equalised opponent. It took the Rogue Prince having to step in to stop me from beating those bastards to a pulp. It took Daemon himself to recognise that I was just a greater threat as any.

Visenya had paused for a moment as she walked, briefly glancing at the interaction of between her father and uncle. The odd tension that brewed thickly between them, her gaze lingered upon Daemon and as she turned away. She recognised the look her father had given Aemond. One of amusement, just as he had given her countless times. That gleam of condescension driven by superiority. As if he were watching a child attempt to yield of sword… a pitiful endearment.

●

The princess hadn’t bothered to wait for her mother or father, she simply returned to her chamber swiftly. Slamming the doors as she soon found herself laying upon her bed and shutting her eyes.

Less than an hour had gone by before the creek of her chamber door filled her room, she sighed, it was likely her mother ready and willing to wag her finger. Visenya muttered, “How come no matter what transpires I am always the one to be lectured, mother?”

“It’s me, sister.” A small voice mumbled.

Visenya sat up and turned her head, her gaze softening at the sight of familiar dark eyes and shaggy black hair.

Lucerys.

The princess tilted her head and waved him over, to which he slowly approached her, sitting upon her bed. As she laid back down, neither of the siblings said anything, she merely watched as Luke hung his head low and sulked.

Visenya sighed and then, tapped his back with her boot, forcing him to turn his head.

“Come.” She said expectantly, rolling her eyes. She sat up, gesturing for him to come lay beside her.

He let out a small breath and mumbled, “I am nearly a man grown. I ought not be coddled.” Luke pouted.

Visenya scoffed, and raised her brow, “So why have you come?”

Then, a small but obvious moment passed between the two siblings, Luke looked down and sighed. She was right, why else would he have come? He was weak, he was not like his elder brother who brimmed with such confidence and self-assurance. Try as Lucerys might, he couldn’t suppress his anguish, his anxiety.  He knew he must now, he was to be married to Baela, would then be a father soon after and then named Lord of Driftmark. How could he dare assume such roles if he still needed to be assured his world was not crumbling before him? That he was deserving of his titles and of his position as a man? His mother and sister would not be there forever, and he knew no wife would surely tolerate a weak husband. Especially not a woman as fierce and formidable as Rhaena. She deserved a man who would be the one to soothe her woes, to ease her worries.

Though mayhap, tonight was not the night to try and call upon that man he wished be.

Visenya slowly made her way to the end of the bed, sitting beside him. She gazed upon her young brother, noting the flickering uncertainty within his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel her eyes soften upon him, suddenly struck with how young he was, how he still looked like a boy straining desperately to be a man. Her hand came to his head and gently, she brought him to her shoulder, noticing the bruise upon his forehead from where Aegon had attacked him. Her fingers gently grazing it making him wince.

"You must see a maester." Visenya said, her gaze flickering upon the discolored skin.

Lucerys shook his head, and a moment of silence settled between them before finally, he gained the courage to speak, “I keep making this worse for mother.” He whispered.

She sighed, bringing him closer as she rested her chin about his scalp, “It was no fault of yours, brother.” The princess spoke softly as her fingers grazed his hair.

“Yes it was. I laughed at him, didn’t I? I thought myself clever when I should have looked the other way. I caused trouble and now… now I whine like a babe about it.” Luke suddenly pulled his head from her shoulder, stifling down tears of both sorrow and wrath. “A man takes accountability. A boy cower in his sister’s arms.” His voice firm.

The princess gazed upon the side of Luke’s face, scanning his boyish features. She raised an eyebrow and suddenly a laugh escaped her.

The young prince turned his head in shock, his voice stuttering, “Do… do not laugh.”

Visenya continued regardless, she rolled her eyes and leaned back upon her elbow, forcing Luke to turn his head.

“Brother I laugh because you are boy. I laugh because I cannot tell you how many times I have watched our brother, or my father… or even our un-” She stopped herself, “Even other boys, do the same as you are now. Fighting themselves so foolishly over what is a condition of having a heart, not the weakness of a man.” Visenya rose to sit up once more, taking his hand.

“You took accountability just before, no?” She beckoned.

Luke nodded.

“Well then, you have done what a man would do... recognise you made an error at laughing at our uncle, who himself, made an even greater error by throwing a most bitter tantrum! Precisely after our Grandsire was not there to witness such a thing.” Her voice firm as she ranted.

Lucerys raised his brow as he took in her words, his mind churning, “Yet I doubt Aemond is scuttling off into the arms of his sister.”

“No, he likely to craven to even admit such weakness to his own kin, but one never knows what other methods of comfort he seeks. My point is that it is he who acts more boyishly then you. Aemond who relishes in such causing scenes! Yes you laughed, so bloody what? You are the one who is truly but a boy still. Aemond is but a man grown, he ought have a stronger spine.” The princess lowered her tone, shaking her head as she scoffed with contempt.

As Prince Lucerys looked upon his sister, he felt tears beckon in his eyes his heart aching as he realised how terribly he wished to be long gone from this place, how he wished things could be as they were in their youth at Dragonstone. Yet a sense of doom befell him, that things had changed now.

Slowly his head came back to her shoulder, and Visenya could do nothing but look upon her younger brother with an affection like no other. She brought her hand up to his hair, stroking it and she felt droplets of tears fall upon the fabric of her gown.

“I shall never be like you… or Jace… or even mother. I shall always be afraid.” He whispered.

“Sweet brother. We are all afraid. Fear does not make you weak...and it took me many years to see that neither does the revelation of vulnerability.” Visenya’s voice dropped to a soft, cooing tone. Her hand still gliding upon the mop of his black curls.

Luke shook his head, protesting her words. His voice strained, “You are not vulnerable as I am.”

“Yes… I am. I am, Lucerys... but I feel I must stay strong. I cannot falter as I once did, not when mother depends on me so. Not when you and Jace… and, and Joffrey are in such danger. I did not understand it when I was young, did not see how everything I did reinforced the slander against mother and therefore put you three in greater danger. You are not weak for leaning upon me, it was I who was weak because I resisted being leaned upon.” The princess looked out upon the soft glow of the candles which flickered. She felt her gaze and voice become low. A whirlwind of regret and emotions pooling through her.

“But I must be strong too.” He muttered.

“You are.” She whispered back, the moment paused, which led to the both of them realising what was said, and they let out small snickers. It was nice, to acknowledge the truth.

 Luke raised his head, his face turned to his elder sister. In this moment he found his gaze weakening, he needed her strength, he needed her honesty, “Ser Leanor is not my father, is he?”

A soft breath left the princess, her mind was in no state of conflict as she spoke. Her eyes still looking out, “No brother. Nor is he mine.”

And there it was, the clear truth. She had had this moment with Jace once before, and now she would have it with Luke. Slowly, Visenya turned her head, gazing into his simpering eyes, her hand coming to his cheek, “Then at least… now I know that I can be brave. For Ser Harwin was. He cared for Jace and Joffrey… and me. Protected us, even though it put him in danger.” The young prince’s voice beaming with reverence.

Visenya pouted softly and nodded. She felt her eyes weaken and tears beckon as she slowly pulled his head to her heart. Luke’s arms wrapped around his elder sister, and in that moment he realised how much like their mother she truly was. How much he was willing to give to prove himself worthy of his name.

The princess gazed out longingly, tears falling but she did not acknowledge them. She felt a slight pang of jealously but also gratitude. For Ser Harwin despite the world being against him, did not abandon his boys, did everything he could to protect them and see to his mother. She even remembered how he would treat Visenya like his own and would call her fierce like Rhaenyra. She remembered the man who harboured dark curls like her brothers, his sweet kind words and fatherly affection.

As the princess spoke, she found her voice failing her, “You are lucky, brother. To have had such a father… and even luckier to inherit such a good heart. He was but a good man… and I have little doubt you shall be too.”

Luke looked up and furrowed his brow, “You have a good heart too sister.”

“If I have been gifted any goodness… it comes from mother. I feel, as I grow older… more estranged from Daemon. More attune to his ways.” Visenya crumbled, her heart sinking as her voice was no more than a whisper.

“His ways?” The prince asked.

Visenya's gaze drew distant as she muttered, “Coming and going…”

“He married mother. Does that not prove you and her are where his heart truly lies? If as you say… all of us have vulnerability, would you not be one of them?” Lucerys scrunched his nose, contemplating his own words. Even he were not too sure if they were accurate, for it was true Prince Daemon was indeed, an enigma.

“He is impossible to understand. He was not like Ser Harwin, he abandoned me...would barely acknowledge me in public. There was never a moment when he would dare guide or teach me before the eyes of others. Everything was done in the shadows; everything was done where none could see, and it was so rarely he might as well have been just an uncle. Most of the brief moments we shared were him reprimanding me for being a strain upon my mother, and then he would leave again, barely reaching out. Setting out to Pentos to spend the rest of his days when he had little reason not to come to Dragonstone. There were times when... when I could see it in his eyes, that I was something he regrets.” She found herself simpering, looking down. In that moment she felt like a girl again and all she could do was lean in to such heartache.

“Perhaps not. Perhaps he just… kept away because… because he could not risk what may happen to you if he didn’t. Though, I am grateful for Ser Harwin’s affection… it made things all the worse did it not? Many people still think you to be Ser Leanor’s.” Luke mumbled, a quiet wisdom falling unknowingly from him.

Visenya shook her head, bringing her hand to her face as she spoke, “Yes but that is because I-” Her eyes suddenly met Luke’s and they both knew what she was to say. She appears Valyrian.

Lucerys nodded and another quiet moment passed before he found his way into her arms. The two siblings finding a sense of understanding and comfort, just as she did with Jacaerys all those years ago. Mayhap one day even she will have to do the same with Joffrey.

There was then, a small exchange of fumbling and bickering that echoed outside her door, Luke pulled away and raised his brow,

“Just go inside!” One rang.

“What if she with a suitor? I heard another?” A softer responded.

The first scoffed, “Too bloody bad, Luke is missing, and we must leave.”

“Jace!” A third winced.

The sudden opening of her chamber door meant for Visenya to shake her head.

“Sister… I shall give you a moment to, ready yourself… and also any other who may be present.” The awkward voice of Jacaerys bellowed.

“You’ll have to give them all a moment brother.” The princess mocked, waiting for the foolishness to end.

His eyes widened suddenly, and face coiled in horror as he awaited what he thought would be a flock of men, “Them all? How.. how many- “

“Jacaerys just come in!” She snapped slightly, winning a snicker from Luke.

As Jace made his way in, he approached the corner where her bed was. Cautiously his eyes readying to shut before he found himself grimacing in embarrassment as he saw the likes of his two siblings. The prince scoffed and gestured to his younger brother, “Why would you not say you were with him?”

Visenya raised her brow, giving him a “Why would you not knock if you thought me apprehended?” A small laugh escaping her as she watched Jace’s face turn over itself, he raised his brow and nodded.

Soon, the shutting of her door warranted the arrival of Baela and Rhaena.

Baela having huffed and gently nudged at Jace, “Sorry, sister.” She said softly, tilting her head and giving a gentle look to her elder upon the bed. Visenya returned the gesture. “We were merely worried because, Luke had disappeared, and we weren’t so certain if he were with you or…” Baela trailed off.

“Why were you looking for me?” Lucerys turned his head.

Jace stepped forward, “Mother says we are to leave tonight.”

“Tonight…why? When?” Visenya raised her brow.

“After what happened at supper she thinks it best we return to Dragonstone. They are preparing a ship still; we have some time but.. you best be ready.”

The eldest Targaryen shook her head, her voice beaming with frustration “But I came on dragonback?”

“Oh… yes I think Rhaenyra mentioned something of the sorts of having Silverwing readied.” Baela assured.

Visenya rose to her feet, straightening her gown as she collected her trunk, “Hm. Very well, I shall… be ready then. How much time is left?”

“Mayhap… an hour or two?” Rhaena shrugged, “Rhaenyra had just said for us to be ready to leave as hastily as possible, so…” The youngest girl continued.

Visenya nodded, and began to collect her things upon the vanity, swiftly bringing them into her trunk. As she did so, Lucerys had joined his brother as they bid each other farewell.

However, there was but one thing on the mind of the Princess as she hastily shoved her things into her trunk: Blood of Old.

○x○

[everestgale]

My birds! Silly, silly birds!

I finally gave voices a redesign I'm mostly happy with! It was so fun to come up with all their little design elements and parallels; I will definitely talk about some of them when I eventually make individual ref sheets for each... but that will be a distant-future-EG project. For now, I'm just glad I have these :]

[Though, if you have any comments or questions about my designs, my DMs and ask box are open! I will accept any reason to ramble about these birds]

I do also have another version of this lineup, with dark brown, muted colors:

In my head, these darker-colored versions are what they would look like if they had actual physical bodies. In reality, I just wanted to see what they would look like if I shifted their colors closer to the Long Quiet's "base" colors.

So yeah, birds! [Find my Slay the Princess art here] [Princess art] [TLQ art] [Voices art]