#Jonothor Darry

[stannis-the-freaking-mannis]

aerys ii’s kingsguard 💅💅 also i wrote that gerold hightower is gerold dayne😭 (darkstar core🗡️🥀🚬⛓️)

[novaursa]

Fire and Gold (to flip a coin)

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: whispers

- Next part: coat of gold and three heads

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

Your footsteps echoed in the silence of halls of the Red Keep, the sound only broken by the heavy boots of Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Jonothor Darry, their white cloaks trailing behind them as they followed you. You had given the order, and the two Kingsguard had brought the servants directly to you—a pair of trembling men with faces pale as ghosts, shackles clinking with every step.

Varys had whispered their names to you earlier that day, slipping the information into your hand like a coiled serpent. He had smiled that secretive smile of his and said only, “They may know more than they let on, Your Grace.” It was enough to stir your suspicions. And now, here you were, standing before them in a forgotten chamber deep beneath the keep, the only light coming from the flickering torches on the walls.

The two men, their faces streaked with sweat, knelt before you, eyes darting nervously between you and the Kingsguard. You crossed your arms, letting the silence stretch, savoring the discomfort that crept over them. You had no intention of making this easy for them. Your son was dead, and you would get your answers—no matter the cost.

“Do you know why you are here?” you asked, your voice cold and steady, cutting through the tension like a blade.

The older of the two, a gaunt man with thinning hair, swallowed hard, but he kept his mouth shut. The younger one, barely more than a boy, glanced at his companion, then at you, his hands trembling where they were bound. But neither of them spoke.

You took a step closer, your boots scuffing against the stone floor, and they flinched. “You were seen with strangers,” you continued, your tone sharp as steel. “Strangers who were not meant to be in the Keep. Strangers who entered the very night my son was murdered. Now, you will tell me what you know. Or you will burn.”

They exchanged a panicked look, the older man’s face paling even further. He wet his lips, as if considering whether to speak, but still he said nothing. You felt a flare of anger rise within you, and your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“I do not make idle threats,” you said, your voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “My father has taught me well. If you think I would hesitate to use fire to get the truth from you, then you are mistaken.”

The words seemed to finally cut through their fear, and the younger man broke, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Please, Your Grace,” he choked out, his voice shaking. “We—we had no part in it. We only did what we were told. We let them in, but we didn’t—”

“Let who in?” you demanded, leaning closer, your gaze boring into him. “Who sent them? Who ordered the death of my son?”

The older man’s resolve crumbled alongside the younger’s, and he glanced desperately at Ser Gerold and Ser Jonothor as if hoping for a reprieve. None came. “We don’t know who sent them,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with desperation. “We never saw their faces. But they... they weren’t after the boy. They spoke of... of you, Your Grace.”

A chill ran through you, cold and sharp, and you forced yourself to remain steady, your face betraying nothing of the turmoil inside. “Me?” you repeated, your voice icy. “Explain yourself.”

“They said... the boy was a mistake,” the younger one whispered, his voice barely audible, his face pale and slick with sweat. “They were meant to... they wanted to get to you. But something went wrong. They found him instead.”

For a moment, you could only hear the pounding of your own heart, drowning out the crackle of the torches and the shifting of the Kingsguard’s armor. The confession settled like a heavy weight in your chest, and you stared at the two men, your mind racing. It was you they wanted. Your son had died because he was in the way. A sacrifice for a target that should have been you.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. This was not the time for grief or for anger. You had the truth now—or at least part of it. And the rest... the rest could be uncovered in time. But these men, these cowardly wretches who had let death into your home, they would answer for their part in it. They had chosen to let the darkness in, and now they would face the consequences.

You stepped back, looking to Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Jonothor Darry, your voice cool and commanding. “Take them to my father,” you ordered. “Let King Aerys hear their confession. Let him judge them.”

The two servants' faces twisted in panic, and the younger one reached out, his bound hands trembling. “Please, Your Grace!” he begged, his voice cracking. “Don’t send us to him! He’ll burn us alive!”

The older man joined in, his voice breaking with desperation. “We told you everything we know! Mercy, Your Grace—please!”

You felt a cold satisfaction settle in your chest, but you kept your face impassive, your eyes hard as steel. “You should have thought of that before you let those men into the castle,” you said, your tone unforgiving. “My son paid the price for your actions. Now, you will pay yours.”

Without another word, you turned and strode toward the door, Rhaegar’s grief-filled face flashing in your mind, the memory of your child’s laughter still echoing in the back of your thoughts. Behind you, the sound of the men’s pleading voices faded as Ser Gerold and Ser Jonothor dragged them away.

They had brought death to your door. Now, death would find them in turn. And you would be there to watch when it did.

The throne room was stifling, the air filled with heat and the acrid scent of burning. Jaime stood at his post near one of the towering pillars, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, though there was nothing he could do to change the horrors unfolding before him. He kept his face expressionless, a mask of rigid composure, but his stomach churned with disgust as the scene played out.

King Aerys leaned forward on the Iron Throne, his eyes gleaming with a manic delight as he watched the two servants writhe and scream, their voices high-pitched and desperate as the wildfire consumed them. The green flames crackled and roared, eating away at flesh and bone with a hunger that seemed to match the king’s own twisted desires. The smell of charred flesh filled the chamber, a stench that clawed its way into Jaime’s nostrils, making him want to gag.

But he kept his place, kept his silence, even as the cries of the dying men echoed through the throne room. Aerys’s laughter, high and brittle, cut through the screams, and Jaime’s fingers tightened around his sword’s pommel. He knew better than to intervene. Knew what would happen if he did. So, he stood there, as he had stood there before, watching, waiting, powerless to do anything else.

Finally, the flames began to die down, the twisted forms of the charred bodies crumpling into ash. Aerys’s laughter faded into a low, satisfied murmur, and he leaned back on the throne, his wild hair falling across his face like a silver curtain. The room fell silent save for the crackling of dying embers and the rasp of Aerys’s breath, still heavy with excitement.

“Let them all see,” Aerys whispered to no one in particular, his eyes distant, unfocused. “Let them know what happens to traitors who dare conspire against my blood. Burn them all, burn them all...”

Jaime forced himself to look away, his jaw clenched tightly. He wanted to turn and leave, to escape the heat and the stench, but he remained at his post, staring at the floor until Aerys finally dismissed them all with a wave of his hand. The courtiers hurried from the room, their faces pale, their eyes wide with horror.

As Jaime turned to follow, Ser Barristan Selmy fell into step beside him. The older knight’s face was drawn, his mouth set in a grim line, but his voice was quiet, almost gentle as he addressed Jaime. “You’ve been even more quiet than usual, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor ahead as they walked through the shadowed corridors of the Red Keep. “There’s little to say, Ser Barristan. I have no desire to speak of what we just witnessed.”

“Is that all, then?” Barristan pressed, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “Or is there something else weighing on your mind, perhaps? Something you might wish to share about the death of the prince?”

Jaime’s steps faltered, and he shot Barristan a quick, wary glance. But the older knight’s face remained impassive, though his eyes were keen, studying Jaime with a look that made him feel exposed, like a specimen under a glass. Jaime forced himself to keep his expression neutral, though he could feel the muscles in his jaw twitching with tension.

“I already told you everything I know, Ser Barristan,” Jaime said evenly. “I was on duty outside the chambers that night. I didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear anything until it was too late.”

But that wasn’t entirely true, and they both knew it. A memory tugged at the edge of Jaime’s mind, a shadowy recollection of a whisper, a figure moving through the shadows. He had caught a glimpse of someone that night—someone who shouldn’t have been there. But the image was hazy, the details slipping through his grasp like smoke. And even if he had seen more, he had no intention of speaking of it. Not now, not ever. Too many things were at stake, too many lives caught in the balance.

Barristan’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment, and Jaime could feel the weight of it pressing down on him like a heavy stone. But then the older knight sighed, shaking his head as if in resignation. “If that’s what you say, Ser Jaime, then I will believe you—for now. But if you do remember something, anything at all, it would be wise to speak of it before more blood is shed.”

Jaime forced a thin smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you for the advice, Ser Barristan. I’ll keep it in mind.”

They walked on in silence, but the memory clawed at the back of Jaime’s thoughts, refusing to be ignored. He remembered the shadowy figure slipping through the halls that night, remembered the unease that had settled in his gut, the way he’d pushed it aside. He couldn’t make out their face, couldn’t even be sure if it was real or some trick of the mind.

But deep down, a nagging suspicion lingered, and he knew that if he were to speak of it now, it would unleash a storm he wasn’t prepared to face. He had seen what Aerys did to those he considered traitors. He had seen the fire, smelled the smoke, heard the screams. And he had no desire to meet the same fate.

So, Jaime kept his silence, pushing the memory back into the darkness where it belonged. He told himself it was for the best, that no good could come from dredging up the shadows of that night. But as he glanced back toward the throne room, where the smell of burning still lingered in the air, he couldn’t quite shake the sense that the shadows were not finished with him yet.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of goblets, and the strains of music that filled the air. Laughter and cheers echoed from every corner as the lords and ladies of the realm gathered to celebrate the nameday of Aelor, your eldest son, now one and three years old. The tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, fruit, and delicacies from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, and for the first time in many months, the Red Keep seemed to hold a semblance of joy.

But even amidst the festivities, you couldn’t shake the shadows that lingered in your heart. You watched as Aelor, old enough now to sit tall at the high table with a hint of a princely air, beamed with the excitement of the feast held in his honor. His laughter was a balm, but it couldn’t erase the memory of the child you had lost. And it couldn’t quiet the voice inside you that whispered of unanswered questions, of hidden threats.

You moved through the hall, exchanging pleasantries with the gathered lords and ladies, always with a careful smile. Rhaegar was nearby, speaking with a group of northern lords, but his gaze drifted to you often, as if ensuring you were never far from his sight. He knew how difficult this night was for you. He shared your grief, even if the weight of his duty required him to keep it buried.

As you made your way toward the table where wine was being served, you caught sight of a familiar figure, draped in a gown of emerald green, her golden hair gleaming like spun sunlight in the torchlight. Cersei Lannister. She stood with a goblet in hand, her lips curled into a thin smile as she spoke with a cluster of lesser lords. But when she saw you approaching, that smile sharpened, becoming something colder, something that glinted with malice.

“Princess Y/N,” Cersei greeted, her voice smooth as silk as she turned to you, her eyes gleaming with a challenge. “What a splendid celebration for young Prince Aelor. He looks so very much like his mother.” She took a sip from her goblet, her gaze never leaving yours. “One hopes he’ll have more fortune than his younger brother.”

The barb was thinly veiled, but the venom behind it stung all the same. You held her gaze, refusing to flinch. “Thank you for your concern, Lady Cersei,” you replied, your tone equally sweet. “It is a mother’s hope that all her children will be kept safe. It’s a pity, though, that some must pay the price for the schemes of others.”

Cersei’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace. It sounds like you’ve been listening to far too many rumors. I suppose grief can make one… imaginative.”

You took a step closer, lowering your voice so only she could hear. “Yes, grief can drive one to madness,” you said, your gaze piercing into hers. “But it can also sharpen the mind, help one see the truth behind lies. Like how an assassin’s blade might have been meant for me—but found my child instead.”

For a moment, something flickered across Cersei’s face—something dark, a flash of annoyance, or perhaps fear. But she recovered quickly, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. “You sound like your father, princess,” she whispered back, her voice dripping with false pity. “Careful, or you might find yourself speaking of fire and treachery before long.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to let her see your fear. You forced a smile, every inch the gracious queen. “Better to speak of such things than to act upon them, Lady Cersei,” you said. “I only wonder how many more mistakes the realm will forgive.”

Before she could respond, Rhaegar’s presence was at your side, his hand resting gently on your arm. His expression was polite, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes flicked over Cersei with a look of barely concealed distaste.

“Lady Cersei,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “I trust you are enjoying the feast.”

Cersei’s smile returned, all false warmth as she inclined her head in return. “Of course, Your Grace. It’s a truly joyous occasion. May young Aelor live long and prosper.”

Rhaegar’s grip on your arm tightened almost imperceptibly, a silent signal, and you allowed him to guide you away, offering Cersei a final, cool nod. As you walked together, the sounds of the feast rising around you once more, Rhaegar leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You shouldn’t waste your breath on her,” he said softly, his frustration clear. “Cersei Lannister is as dangerous as she is petty. She’ll twist your words to suit her needs.”

You glanced back over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Cersei watching your retreat, her expression unreadable, her fingers gripping her goblet just a bit too tightly. “I know, Rhaegar,” you murmured, your voice tinged with bitterness. “But I can’t stand the way she smiles, knowing more than she says. I know she had a hand in this, even if I cannot yet prove it.”

Rhaegar sighed, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in a soothing gesture as he guided you to a quieter corner of the hall. “We will find the truth, but we must be careful. Aerys is growing more volatile every day, and if we push too hard…”

You nodded, leaning into him, drawing strength from his warmth. He was right, of course. The game you were playing was a dangerous one, with stakes that could set the realm ablaze if misplayed. But as you looked across the hall at your son Aelor, surrounded by those who claimed to be loyal and true, you felt a renewed sense of determination. You would find the answers you sought, even if it meant facing the fire.

And when you did, those responsible for your child’s death would learn that the Targaryen fury was not easily quenched.

[studyofasoiaf]

Names used in the Riverlands

(according to books; names of characters from houses in the Riverlands)

next to the names are either houses which have a character/s with that name or culture of the character/s with that name

Female

Agnes (Blackwood)

Alys (Frey, Harroway)

Alyssa (Blackwood)

Alysanne (Blackwood, Bracken)

Alyx (Frey)

Amerei (Frey)

Arwyn (Frey)

Barba (Bracken)

Barbara (Bracken)

Beatrice (Buttterwell)

Bellena (Hawick)

Betha (Blackwood)

Bethany (Blackwood, Bracken)

Bess (Bracken)

Carellan (Smallwood)

Catelyn (Bracken, Tully)

Celia (Tully)

Cersei (Frey)

Cynthea (Frey)

Danelle (Lothston)

Darla (Deddings)

Della (Frey)

Eleanor (Mooton)

Elyana (Vypren)

Emberlei (Frey)

Emphyria (Vance)

Gwenys (Riverman)

Hanna (Harroway)

Hostella (Frey)

Jayne (Bracken)

Jeyne (Darry, Goodbrook, Harroway, Lothston, Mooton, Smallwood)

Jirelle (Mooton)

Joyeuse (Erenford)

Jyanna (Frey)

Kyra (Frey)

Leana (Frey)

Liane (Vance)

Lysa (Tully)

Lythene (Frey)

Maegelle (Frey)

Marianne (Vance)

Mariya (Darry)

Marissa (Frey)

Melantha (Blackwood)

Melissa (Blackwood)

Mellara (Riverman)

Melony (Piper)

Merianne (Frey)

Minisa (Whent)

Morya (Frey)

Mya (Riverman)

Perra (Frey)

Perriane (Frey)

Rhialta (Vance)

Ryella (Frey)

Sabitha (Vypren)

Sallei (Paege)

Sarra (Frey)

Sarya (Whent)

Serra (Frey)

Shella (Whent)

Shiera (Blackwood)

Shirei (Frey)

Sylwa (Paege)

Tysane (Frey)

Tyta (Frey)

Walda (Frey)

Wynafrei (Whent)

Zhoe (Blanetree)

Zia (Frey)

Male

Addam (Frey)

Aegor (Riverman)

Aegon (Frey)

Aegor (Riverman)

Aemon (Riverman)

Aenys (Frey)

Alesander (Frey)

Alton (Butterwell)

Alyn (Blackwood, Frey, Haigh, Terrick)

Ambrose (Butterwell)

Amos (Bracken)

Andrey (Charlton)

Androw (Frey)

Armistead (Vance)

Arwood (Frey)

Axel (Tully)

Benedict (Justman)

Benfred (Frey)

Benjicot (Blackwood)

Bennifer (Blackwood)

Bernarr (Justman)

Bradamar (Frey)

Bryan (Frey)

Brynden (Blackwood, Tully)

Bywin (Strong)

Clarence (Charlton)

Clement (Piper)

Cleos (Frey)

Colmar (Frey)

Dafyn (Vance)

Damon (Darry, Paege, Teague, Vypren)

Danwell (Frey)

Darnold (Darry)

Davos (Deddings)

Denys (Mallister, Strong)

Deremond (Darry)

Derrick (Darry)

Desmond (Darry, Grell, Mallister)

Dickon (Frey)

Donnel (Haigh)

Duncan (Strong)

Edmund (Blackwood)

Edmure (Frey, Tully)

Edmyn (Tully)

Edwyn (Frey)

Ellery (Vance)

Elmar (Frey)

Elmo (Tully)

Elston (Tully)

Emmon (Frey)

Florian (Mooton)

Franklyn (Frey)

Gargon (Qoherys)

Garibald (Grey)

Garrett (Paege)

Garse (Goodbrook)

Geremy (Frey)

Grover (Tully)

Guy (Lothston)

Halmon (Paege)

Harbert (Paege)

Harry (Riverman)

Harwin (Strong)

Harys (Haigh)

Hollis (Teague)

Horas (Harroway)

Hosteen (Frey)

Hoster (Blackwood, Frey, Tully)

Hugo (Vance)

Humfrey (Bracken, Teague)

Jaime (Frey)

Jammos (Frey)

Jared (Frey)

Jason (Mallister)

Jeffory (Mallister)

John (Mudd)

Jon (Charlton, Lothston, Lychester, Mooton, Piper, Vance)

Jonah (Mooton)

Jonos (Bracken, Frey)

Jonothor (Darry)

Jorah (Mallister)

Jordan (Towers)

Joseth (Mallister, Smallwood)

Karyl (Vance)

Kermit (Tully)

Kirth (Vance)

Larys (Strong)

Leslyn (Haigh)

Lewys (Piper)

Lorimas (Mudd)

Lothar (Bracken, Frey)

Lucamore (Strong)

Lucas (Blackwood, Harroway, Lothston, Nayland, Roote)

Luceon (Frey)

Lucias (Vypren)

Lucifer (Justman)

Lyle (Riverman)

Lyman (Darry)

Lymond (Fisher, Goodbrook, Lychester, Mallister)

Lyonel (Frey, Strong)

Maegor (Towers)

Malwyn (Frey)

Manfred (Lothston)

Manfryd (Lothston)

Martyn (Riverman)

Marq (Mudd, Piper)

Medgar (Tully)

Melwys (Frey)

Merrett (Frey)

Myles (Mooton, Smallwood)

Norbert (Vance)

Olyver (Bracken)

Oscar (Tully)

Osmund (Frey, Strong)

Oswald (Wode)

Oswell (Whent)

Patrek (Mallister, Vance)

Perwyn (Frey)

Petyr (Frey, Mallister, Piper)

Prentys (Tully)

Quenton (Qoherys)

Quincy (Cox)

Quentyn (Blackwood)

Raylon (Bracken)

Raymond (Nayland)

Raymun (Darry)

Rhaegar (Frey)

Richard (Roote)

Robb (Riverman)

Robert (Blackwood, Frey, Paege, Strong, Vance)

Robin (Ryger)

Roderick (Blackwood)

Roger (Blackwood)

Roland (Blackwood, Darry)

Ronald (Vance)

Ronel (Riverman)

Ronnel (Vance)

Royce (Blackwood)

Ryger (Riverman)

Ryman (Frey)

Samwell (Blackwood)

Simon (Strong)

Stanton (Piper)

Steffon (Frey)

Stevron (Frey)

Symond (Frey)

Theo (Charlton, Frey, Teague)

Theomar (Smallwood)

Thoren (Smallwood)

Tion (Frey)

Torrence (Teague)

Tristan (Mudd, Ryger, Vance)

Tristifer (Mudd, Wayn)

Tommen (Tully)

Tytos (Blackwood, Frey)

Tywin (Frey)

Utherydes (Wayn)

Vorian (Vypren)

Walder (Frey, Goodbrook, Haigh, Vance)

Walter (Whent)

Walton (Frey, Towers)

Waltyr (Frey)

Walys (Mooton)

Wendel (Frey)

Willamen (Frey)

William (Mooton)

Willem (Darry, Frey)

Willis (Wode)

Zachery (Frey)

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 5

what the fuck is this: it’s me drafting a fake robert’s rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each

sorry for accidentally putting this on a massive hiatus again lol i swear it's nearly done. anyway, have once again played with rebellion timelines very slightly to make things fit and have also massively reduced Robert's battle scenes bc who wants to read those in a bullet point format but yeah we move

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

SEASON TWO: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5

title for this one: i challenge grrm to finish twow before i finish this thing bc clearly we're both shit at setting ourselves deadlines

prev: 2.04

next: tbc

Lyanna twines blue roses into a flower crown amidst the ruins at Summerhall, humming a familiar song, feat. Rhaegar on the harp - it’s the same song he played at the feast at Harrenhal. There’s an easy intimacy about them that wasn’t there before. Suddenly, the sound of horses; Lyanna startles, but Rhaegar calms her, and goes to greet Arthur and Oswell. Oswell says he sees now it’s true that Rhaegar had the girl after all. Lyanna declares that she is Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, and she rode here of her own accord. She demands to know who they are; Rhaegar tells her that these are two knights of the Kingsguard - friends. Arthur warns that they are not safe here - looking at Lyanna’s belly, which shows nothing, he adds, ‘none of you.’ Lyanna follows his gaze, perturbed. Rhaegar answers that Arthur should take them where he would; Lyanna more confused than ever - why should they follow these two?? Oswell suggests to Arthur they return Lyanna to the Starks, since she seems just fine and this has caused quite enough drama already actually. Arthur tells Oswell it’s too late for that now

Opening creds

Aerys at breakfast, with Jaime stood guard beside him, despondent. The King looks in worse shape than ever. his fingernails longer!!!! He waits whilst his food is tasted for poison

Meanwhile, Robert rages on the battlefield, roaring as he leads the charge

Abrupt shift back to lunch at King’s Landing. Jaime’s stood guard beside Aerys once again, watching miserably as the taster tests his food for him

Cut back to Robert, leading a new charge in an altogether different place, more blood on his person than when we last saw him

Dinner at KL. The same again as Aerys nervously picks at his food, and Jaime stands beside him looking like he wants to die

Robert fights a third battle, charging towards the ruins of Summerhall. We watch from behind as his enemies charge to meet him, trampling a flower crown left by Lyanna as they do 

At supper, Aerys receives a raven, telling him of Robert’s busy day. He trembles with rage. Jaime looks on, drained 

KL, later the same night. Jaime is stood outside Aerys’ bedroom door with Jonothor Darry. Jaime starts when he hears Rhaella whimpering, then quickly becomes agitated as her whimpering turns to cries of pain. Jaime looks at Darry, Darry looks straight ahead. This goes on for some time before Jaime declares they’re sworn to protect Rhaella. Darry answers ‘we are, but not from him.’ On Jaime’s horror

Ned approaches Winterfell, looking both grateful and desperately sad to see it on the horizon

Entering Winterfell’s great hall, Ned finds his brother Benjen sat in Rickard’s old seat. Benjen can’t wait to leap out of it, and almost runs to his brother. They clutch at each other in unspoken grief for a moment, before Benjen asks, ‘Lyanna?’ Ned pauses. He has no news to share on that front. Eventually, he simply answers that they will find her. But it seems they will have to fight for her first

Meanwhile, Robert has arrived at his own seat of Storm’s End, receiving cheers from his men as he enters the halls. Renly comes running to him and Robert ruffles his hair, before wondering aloud why he doesn’t get the same welcome from Stannis. Stannis receives that comment with a stony look, frustrated by this whole display of Robert’s easy charisma. Robert laughs at his brother’s face, and thanks him for looking after the place whilst he’s been away - yet his flippancy only seems to grate on Stannis further. Robert goes on to say that this can only be a short stay, as there are more battles to fight. So, he declares that Stannis is in charge of Storm’s End in his absence. He confers this with a sincerity that surprises his brother, and Stannis ever so slightly beams. Renly in the background demanding to know what he gets

Meanwhile, in KL: the return of Joncon, stood at the foot of the throne. Now a young man, Joncon is earnest and eager to please - he wears a serious expression that looks like it’s been practised in a mirror. To the lords and ladies assembled around them, Aerys declares that the previous Hand, Owen Merryweather, had been a weak, ineffectual man, who failed to quash the rebellions of this upstart Baratheon boy. He needs a younger man, a capable warrior, and one true to House Targaryen. He declares Joncon his new hand, and Joncon, attempting to receive this honour with a stoic look, cannot contain a boyish grin. He states that he will put an end to this Robert Baratheon with his own sword, and restore peace to the 7K. Big cheer, enjoyed by Aerys and Joncon alike

Back at Winterfell, with Ned and Benjen in the godswood. Benjen tells Ned he still can’t believe that anyone could just steal away their sister like that - a girl as fierce as Lyanna!! He recalls that she’d been known to best even Brandon at sword practice, and she could pack a punch too - Benjen rubs at his jaw in remembrance of some fight or another. Ned tells Benjen that Rhaegar is a powerful man, in more ways than one. Benjen agrees, upset, but adds that he hadn’t really thought the Prince seemed the sort, with his pretty hair and sad songs. Lyanna liked his songs, Benjen remembers aloud. The brothers are quiet for a moment, before Benjen tells Ned that he wishes Rickard were here, and Brandon. He doesn’t know what he’s doing in father’s seat, knows he should’ve paid more attention to his lessons - and now, he realises tearfully, he’ll never have a chance to hear another. Ned comforts his brother, telling him he should never have expected to find himself in this position; neither had he. Benjen tells Ned he doesn’t envy him his position, asks if he’s alright. Ned tries to smile, but it isn’t convincing. He reassures Benjen that they will find Lyanna. This time is sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself 

Aerys alone with Rhaella in the royal quarters. Aerys asks Rhaella where Rhaegar is; Rhaella tells him she doesn’t know. Aerys doesn’t believe her, says he suspects it’s their son she’s always loved and not him, with crude implication - pushing for a reaction he can’t wring out of her. Aerys now wonders aloud if he should let Rhaegar live when they find him: he’s never been an obedient son, and they have another. Perhaps Rhaella could give him still more. When this feeble uprising is put down again, he will have a dozen more children on her, each married to another, and no-one will dare defy House Targaryen again. Aerys is distracted now, and wanders from the table muttering to himself. Rhaella stays silent, her gaze fixed in her lap

Rhaegar, Lyanna, Arthur and Oswell riding through Dorne. Lyanna races ahead on her horse when she sees a tower in the distance, marvelling at the surrounding landscape. Oswell notes that this is a child - what do they mean to do with her here? Nobody answers, and so Oswell, irritated, rides ahead to join Lyanna at the Tower of Joy. Now alone together, Arthur warns Rhaegar a great war is waging; he cannot remain here forever. Rhaegar agrees, tells him it is only for now. Looks at the tower, deep in thought, and tells Arthur he believes that he will die in this place. Arthur, unreadable, says that he knows this

Ned in the great hall of Winterfell, with Benjen at his side and his men about them. He tells them this isn’t about thrones, power, or land, but about ‘those they’ve taken from us’. Lyanna, a Stark, a northern girl, a girl they all know and love. Rickard and Brandon were slaughtered trying to bring her home, their love for one another wielded as a weapon, their love for Lyanna used to trap them. He cannot rest whilst his sister remains lost, asks for their strength in finding her. The northmen raise their swords in a cry of solidarity and of war 

Lyanna wakes beside Rhaegar, feeling different all of a sudden - she touches her belly without seeming to know why, when Rhaegar wakes beside her, joins his hand to hers. Lyanna looks at him, astonished and suddenly tearful. Rhaegar smiles, and leans in to whisper in her ear: ‘his name is…’ 

(I have no idea what Jon’s fucking real name is and I’m not wedded to any theory on it so that’s not gonna feature anywhere in this sorry)

END

[warsofasoiaf]

would viserys and those who support him in exile have allowed lyannas child to be king? I can’t see viserys and Co accepting that.

It's worth noting that when we see Viserys in the main series, we've already seen him with years after the fact that Lyanna's child never drew breath (so far as he knows). So while we have Viserys's personality as it stands in the first book and he *absolutely* would not countenance a rival, that is done with years of knowing that he was the heir of House Targaryen by their succession traditions (and the mental strain that very clearly broke him). So while we can say that Viserys as we know him in AGOT would not, what would Willem Darry have done if the three Kingsguard showed up (including Jonothor) with Rhaegar's infant son in tow, and how would that have effected Viserys's development? That raises significant questions to the point where the Viserys in that scenario is nothing like the Viserys we meet in Dany's chapters in AGOT.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[mattsmithinanewwig]

prince duncan targaryen, lord commander of the kingsguard || elia martell x male oc

prince duncan targaryen was born the second son of queen rhaella by the year ending 260 AC. the young queen, still recovering from the difficult birth of prince rhaegar at summerhall, laboured for five nights and five days before delivering her son, nearly perishing in the process according to grandmaester pycelle who was convinced the queen would surely pass from blood loss. the queen was reportedly upset from the lack of a daughter for her first son to marry, perhaps if duncan  had been a daella, thousands of lives would have been saved for it.

king aerys was expected to be rejoiced at the birth of another son, securing his dynasty, but the already paranoid king was not. as prince duncan was not born with silver hair like his brother, mother and father but instead his hair was the colour of spun gold, or straw uncharitably, and eyes of lilac and green. rumours of the child’s fatherhood, many of whom remarked his hair was awfully similar to the hand of the king, was set before the prince had opened his mouth, just as it had been for king daeron ii. 

though misliked by his elder brother, who reportedly refused to hold him as a baby and shooed him off as a toddler in favour of the red keep’s library, prince duncan was never without friends. playing knights and dragons with the boys of noble lords and commoners alike, and picking flowers with girls and maidens. equally gifted with his lute as his brother was with a harp, prince duncan was a natural entertainer, always playing and singing songs and making sure to dance with every available lady of the court. 

though being liked doesn’t kill rumours, nor does being renowned by the smallfolk, and as prince duncan grew and grew past his brother, and his hair never paled nor his eyes rematch themselves, king aerys only grew more distrustful of his second son. knighted at five and ten by ser gerold hightower for nobly defending a group of young smallfolk maids from thieves, it was clear to the father that something must be done about his very westerosi son. 

years passed and as rhaegar took up the title of prince of dragonstone, prince duncan assisted tywin lannister in hand duties, perhaps expecting to take up the position, but that was not meant to be. ser gerold hightower passed unexpectedly in the year 278 from an infected wound, though nobody knew by who’s blade, and a new lord commander of the kingsguard. though expected to be given to older ser jonothor darry or impressive ser arthur dayne, the king had a new idea. his beautiful and gifted son, ser duncan, would be perfect for the job. the realm was shocked, but no more so than prince duncan himself. stripped of any chance of marriage and children, something the young prince had been eager for, any lands or potential handship burned to ash in the new kingsguard’s hands. 

the king must have been very proud of himself, and if sources are to be believed prince rhaegar was also secretly relieved at the appointment as well, but love for prince duncan, the dancing dragon, could not be killed so easily. 

[jon-sedai]

Ned's Tower of Joy dream is an interesting case study on how GRRM employs the three part revelation strategy. Because Ned's questioning of the kings guard and their subsequent answers basically falls into:

Q: Why are the kingsguard at the Tower of Joy? They could be anywhere else but they're here? Why??

A: They are there to fulfill their duty to the king.

See, Ned asks them three questions that get to the heart of revealing why the kingsguard are present where Lyanna (and Jon, per RLJ) are. Because if the kingsguard's primary duty is to protect the king, and if each set of question and answer reaffirms that the KG at the tower were doing their duty, then we can discern that Rhaegar's son is the king at that moment in time. Each question and answer reveals more information than the last, which falls into the three part strategy as observed by GRRM's editor, Anne Groell.

[...] I’ve realized his three-fold revelation strategy, I see it in play almost every time. The first, subtle hint for the really astute readers, followed later by the more blatant hint for the less attentive, followed by just spelling it out for everyone else. It’s a brilliant strategy, and highly effective.

How this strategy plays into the ToJ dream is that GRRM starts with

planting a little seed of doubt by questioning the kingsguard's whereabouts

then he follows up with bringing to attention the fact that they have not yet sworn fealty to the new king

then finally spelling it out that their presence here rather than elsewhere signifies that the king is close at hand - in the very tower where this confrontation is taking place

For the astute observer who has figured out that R+L=J, this is a very important piece of information regarding Jon's status at the time. Because he has so far been introduced to us as Ned Stark's bastard. But now, this sequence of information plays into the larger theme of Jon being presented as a hidden king.

So let's take a more detailed look at how this plays out in the dream once Ned confronts the ghosts of the kingsguard.

P.S: Ok, I lied. Ned actually asks them four questions. But four is not so nice a number as three so whatever. The point remains.

Q1: Three other kingsguard were fighting with the crown prince at the Trident. Yet these three remained. Why?

A1: Their duty was not to go to the Trident but to remain at the ToJ

“I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them. “We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered. “Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.

This first set means to establish a timeline. We know that Rhaegar was last at the tower (well, that is before he went to Kings Landing and then to the Trident). Rhaegar even took three other kingsguard to battle with him: Jonothor Darry, Barristan Selmy, and Lewyn Martell.

These three kings guard at the ToJ should have gone with Rhaegar because after all, it's their duty to fight for the king and his cause. But they were left at the TOJ. And we can assume that this was per Rhaegar's orders as GRRM himself confirms that if Rhaegar told them to stay at the tower, then they would've had little power to disobey him.

But Rhaegar died at the Trident. So why did they choose to remain? And even though this conversation is happening within a feverish dream (thus opening up the possibility that these words were not the actual ones that were exchanged in real history), it still seems that by the time Ned got to the tower the kingsguard already knew of Rhaegar's demise.

So why did they remain?

Q2: Jaime Lannister, a member of the kingsguard, was in King's Landing slaying their king. Why were these three not there to avenge Aerys? Isn't their primary duty to protect the king?

A2: Aerys is dead, but the kingsguard still has to do their duty which is to remain at the tower.

“When King’s Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.” “Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”

Once again, the language used here suggests that they knew of their king's demise. They did not go with Rhaegar to the Trident, and then Rhaegar died. Who knows how fast information travels, but these three still chose to remain at the tower despite his death. Afterwards, they did not make an effort to find Aerys, nor did they make an effort to go and avenge him once he was dead. They swore an oath to remain at the tower, and that is exactly what they did.

But with Rhaegar dead and with Aerys dead, they're now running out of excuses to remain at the tower. Though they may be fiercely loyal to the vows they swore to their prince, they also have a primary duty to obey their king and they could've performed that elsewhere. Especially now that there's a new king in town...

Q3: Ok, their king is dead and the entire realm now swears fealty to a new king. All the knights, honorable and dishonorable, have bent the knee. But what about them? Why are they here?

A3: They have a duty to remain at the tower. A duty they fulfill as members of the kingsguard, and one that cannot be transferred easily.

“I came down on Storm’s End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, “and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.” “Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne.

What's interesting about this is that they seemingly reject Robert as their king. It's a reaffirmation of their first answer to Ned's first question. "Woe to the Usurper if we had been [at the Trident]”. So Robert is not their king. But the primary duty of the kingsguard is to serve the king. Their behavior so far gives the impression that they are fulfilling it. But it's rather strange, isn't it. Who are they fulfilling their duty to if not Robert?

And Ned knows this. If they reject Robert as their king, who else is there to support? Rhaegar is long dead. Aerys was slain by their own sworn brother. And Rhaegar's son and heir met his end at the hand of Gregor Clegane. Their duty is sworn to the Targaryen line, but it has been snuffed out. So why are they here?

But Ned asks a final question that is, in a way, a nail in the coffin. It answers the question: they serve the king but which one?

Q4: Fine! Robert is not their king. And Rhaegar, Aerys, and Aegon are dead. Well...there is Viserys, who would have been Aerys' heir after Rhaegar. He's not dead. So why are they not with him?

A4: They do not go to Viserys because their duty as kingsguard(!) is not with him.

“Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.” “Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell. “But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.” “Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm. “We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold.

This is the final revelation and it answers the key question in all of this. The kingsguard performed their duty by guarding their king at the Tower of Joy. They are not serving Aerys by remaining there. And they are also not doing Viserys, who is currently at Dragonstone, any favors. Whatever vow they swore as kingsguard relates to the ToJ. And we know (per RLJ) that the two people at the tower are Lyanna Stark and Jon Snow, Rhaegar's last surviving son and heir.

We're given two key pieces of information with the last two sets of question and answer in regards to the kingsguards performing their duty by guarding Jon at the tower. First when Arthur Dayne says that, "our knees do not bend easily". Of course, they do not bend for Robert the usurper as we already know...

...But, the start of the dream features a very important detail.

Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. 

Ser Oswell has already bent the knee. And he means to fight for the king he has sworn a vow to since he is preparing his sword.

Then we have Ser Gerold 'pointing out' (thus bringing attention to) the fact that though Prince Viserys and Queen Rhaella are still alive and under the protection of a good knight, they are not under the protection of kingsguard. The kings guard does not flee - they stand their ground and fight for their king. And this is again asserted by Ser Gerold who reminds Ned that “we swore a vow.”

So we have a three four part revelation that the last stand at the ToJ involved protecting little Jon who, at that time, was recognized as king by the three knights.

This doesn't end here. Jaime's ASOS dream also has him confront ghosts of the pasts and the question of oaths comes up, as it did in Ned's dream. The two dreams intersect when the topic of the kingsguard's duty comes up. And we see that as it was in Ned's dream, the three knights at the ToJ were fulfilling their primary oaths to protect (and die) for their king.

“I swore an oath to keep him safe,” [Brienne] said to Rhaegar’s shade. “I swore a holy oath.” “We all swore oaths,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, so sadly. [...] “He was your king,” said Darry. “You swore to keep him safe,” said Whent. “And the children, them as well,” said Prince Lewyn. [...] “I never thought he’d hurt them.” Jaime’s sword was burning less brightly now. “I was with the king …” “Killing the king,” said Ser Arthur. “Cutting his throat,” said Prince Lewyn. “The king you had sworn to die for,” said the White Bull.

Once again, we have the affirmation that the kingsguard swear vows to protect their king even if it leads to their deaths. And as we know, all these kingsguard died during Robert's Rebellion. Three died at the Trident with Rhaegar, fighting for their king's cause. So why are the other three who were at the ToJ lumped with them?

Of course, this is Jaime's conscious. And his relationship with Dayne, Hightower, and Whent is very different from Ned's. But the point remains that as the narrative suggests, they too died for their king. They fulfilled their oaths to completion. But the king they died for was not Aerys or Aegon or Viserys. Their king was a tiny babe - Jon Snow.

Though this feverish dream is part of a much larger reveal (that is R+L=J), Ned’s conversation with the three kingsguard plays into one of the key motifs in Jon Snow’s arc - that is his identity as the king. Not a king. But THE king.

What makes the three part revelation so interesting in this passage is that not everyone has figured R+L=J out. But to the astute observer, this key passage is just another piece of important evidence that plays into the hidden prince trope that RLJ falls under. And not only that, it yet another instance of Jon being recognized as the true king by the narrative.

[thesunwillshineonusagain757]

𝓢𝓦𝓞𝓡𝓝 𝓢𝓘𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓡 𝓞𝓕 𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓚𝓘𝓝𝓖𝓢𝓖𝓤𝓐𝓡𝓓

At the Tournament of Harrenhal, a legendary event immortalised in song, the final joust was a clash between Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and the enigmatic Knight of the Laughing Tree. King Aerys II, consumed by madness, was desperate to uncover the knight's identity. Against all odds, the mysterious knight won, revealing herself to be a young maiden, aged between six and ten, in an audacious twist.

𝐿𝓎𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓀

Ser Lyanna Stark, the first maiden sworn as a knight and a sister of the Kingsguard, made a lasting impression on our order. Her courage and skill were evident at the Tourney of Harrenhal, where she triumphed over famed knights, including Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Her humility in offering her favour to King Aerys II earned her the rank of knighthood. She filled the void left by the fallen Ser Jonothor Darry.

���𝒽𝒶𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓇 𝒯𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒶𝓇𝓎𝑒𝓃

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, initially focused on reading before becoming a skilled warrior. Knighted at seventeen, he earned respect in tourneys despite his reluctance towards combat and won popularity with his charisma and musical talent, though his relationship with his father, King Aerys II, was strained. His marriage to Elia Martell, marked by familial tension and exacerbated by Aerys’s paranoia, faced additional strain from Elia’s poor health and Aerys’s mistrust. At the tourney of Harrenhal, Rhaegar’s unexpected loss to the Knight of the Laughing Tree—revealed to be a girl—led him to knight Lyanna Stark, who became crucial figure in his life.

𝓦𝓐𝓡𝓝𝓘𝓝𝓖𝓢:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence l Canon Compliant l Kingsguard as a found family l Canon Divergence - Tourney at Harrenhal (A Song of Ice and Fire)l The Long Night (A Song of Ice and Fire) l Dragon Dreamers & Dragon Dreams (A Song of Ice and Fire) l Expansion of the magic system l Stranger to Friends to Soulmates l Lyanna Stark is The Knight of the Laughing Tree l BAMF Lyanna Stark l Polyamory l Polycule l POV Alternating l This is gonna be long l Angst and Fluff and Smut l Canon-Typical Violence l Age Difference l Canon- Typical Misogyny l Fuck the patriarchy

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 30

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, Rhaegar POV

Words: 4834

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40

Part 41 Part 42  Part 43   Part 44 Part 45  Part 46  Part 47  Part 48 Part 49 Part 50  Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

The stench of blood still burned his nostrils as Rhaegar and his massive army ventured forward. Earth difficult to travel over due to the deep scars that ran through it thanks to Aerys’ wildfire. Most of their carts had already broken several wheels and had gotten stuck in them. Even their horses would resist to cross. Hooves caked in mud and blood alike, eventually the beasts would relent to their handler.

Even without the northern army, Rhaegar could still advance with the men he had now. During the battle with Aerys’ men, much to everyone’s surprise, the local lords had rallied together to swear their allegiance to Rhaegar Targaryen. Clear to many in the Crownlands, they realized that Aerys was truly in trouble; succumbing to the madness that ate away at his brain. They wanted to put an end to the Mad King’s reign and put Rhaegar as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms. By the gods old and new, the Silver Prince would become the Silver King.

King’s Landing was practically in sight, but all Rhaegar could think about was his missing siblings. Who on Dragonstone could have possibly spirited them away? In some ways he supposed this was a good thing. They were now out of Aerys’ grasp. He had always been worried about their father’s influence on young Viserys. Prince Viserys had already showed signs of tyrannical tendencies as a small boy. He was cruel to those he deemed beneath him which happened to be everyone who wasn’t a Targaryen. The days he spent at Dragonstone with Rhaella were ones that Rhaegar and (y/n) had both dreaded. It wasn’t his fault that he had become a menace. Aerys had already warped him. Viserys revered his father as close to a god among men. After all, Targaryens brought dragons to Westeros and had ruled for hundreds of years.

That’s what Aerys had tried to convince Rhaegar. Above anything he found his father’s fate incredibly sad. He knew that there was a time when Aerys wasn’t ‘the Mad King’. It made Rhaegar worry about his own sanity. Over time, would he become like his father and many others in his family? The coin the gods tossed often didn’t land in favor of the Targaryens.

Perhaps the gods were real and the Mother was showing mercy by taking them away. Wherever they may be. Princess Daenerys thankfully was still too young to be under any influence. She could still grow up to be good. That is. . . unless Viserys got to her.

Rhaegar grimaced at that dark thought. Poor Daenerys. He wanted to do something, but on the warpath what was there he could do? His men had tasted an overwhelming victory. The new additions added to their spirits. Especially the Dornish. He couldn't very well steer his horse away to search for them. The Spider might have knowledge but Rhaegar wanted to keep him at arm’s length. He didn’t trust him. It was hard to grasp what Varys was after. The eunuch didn't seem to have any allegiance to anyone.

For now Rhaegar would have to tuck away his siblings in the back of his mind. There was a war to be won and he was so close.

Birds above acted as if nothing in the world could go wrong. As if there hadn’t just been a bloodbath just a few yards back. The men that Ser Jonothor Darry had brought with him to the battlefield were but a small portion of King’s Landing entire defense. It revealed to Rhaegar that his father hadn’t taken him as much of a threat if he sent out so little men. He would show his father soon that he was not to be underestimated. Within a few hours, they would be at the King’s Gate.

“I still think we should lay siege to the Old Gate. Not many guard it and it will be closer to the Keep.” Arthur raises his voice atop his horse so that Rhaegar could hear him over the clopping of hooves and stomping of feet.

Bringing his beautiful chestnut mare in the middle of the two, Oberyn gives Arthur a toothy grin. “The odds are in our favor! Look behind us, our numbers have grown despite the northern soldiers departing. We can take on whatever men Aerys has waiting for us.”

Griff had shown his dislike of the Dornish prince many times. Feelings clear on his downturned face, Griff faces forward with his ears paying attention to whatever ludicrous thing that Oberyn was saying. If Rhaegar remembered correctly, it was Griff who had called Oberyn an “obnoxious, arrogant, loud-mouth bother”. Rhaegar would not deny either of the claims. Oberyn was overly cocky that they could easily break down the King’s Gate defense. He had been confident for the whole entire campaign that it wouldn’t be much of a war with the Dornish on the side. Ned Stark leaving with his men did nothing to discourage them. Arrogance always came with a price.

Rhaegar shot a sidelong look over to Griff who immediately met his gaze. They hoped the price to pay for Oberyn’s cockiness wouldn’t cost them the war. If all went according to plan, this man would become his brother-in-law after he claimed the Iron Throne.

“The future king of Westeros is my brother in law!!” Tyrion gleefully exclaimed. Rhaegar had accidentally walked in while (y/n) and her younger brother were in deep conversation.

(y/n)’s laugh rang loud and clear to where it echoed in Rhaegar’s mind. “I guess it’s pretty impressive, huh?”

Tyrion narrowed his mismatched eyes at her. “Pretty impressive? It’s the most amazing thing ever! Even father can’t say that he has a better brother-in-law!”

Rhaegar had to cover his mouth with his hand, the smile peeking past his fingers. Tyrion thought him to be impressive, something that Tywin Lannister should envy.

Rhaegar had grown to love that boy. His deformity didn’t seem to bother the youngest Lannister one bit. Tyrion was incredibly witty and smart for someone his age. Not even Viserys had such a commendable vocabulary like Tyrion possessed. He even happened to teach Rhaegar a few things during his days at the Keep.

“Using the Old Gate would take longer. Plus they’ll be able to spot us and have more time to prepare.” pointed out Oberyn.

A scoff from Griff was barely audible, but Rhaegar heard it loud and clear. “What does he know of King’s Landing?”

Even with the noise going on, Oberyn unfortunately heard Griff’s remark. “Ah, yes what would I know of King’s Landing? Me being from Dorne. What would I, someone who has studied at the Citadel and forged six links, know of King’s Landing?” He had taken a lot of insults from Griff with a relaxed smile up until then. The fact that Ser Connington doubted his knowledge seemed to sting Oberyn’s pride. He had had enough of that red-headed bastard.

“Then you’ll know how long it takes for King’s Landing’s complete defense to be put together. Certainly you know that the combined arms Aerys holds forty thousand men at his disposal.

“Less now.” Easy going smile having returned only pissed off Jon, making him pull his horse behind to move over to where Oberyn’s mare was marching.

Beneath his close shaven beard, Rhaegar could see Griff’s lips pull into a snarl. The multitudes of freckles inflamed with anger. As good of a man Jon Connignton was, he had always had a short temper

“Jon.” Rhaegar said in a warning tone making the Lord of Griffin’s Roost turn to face him. His pale blue eyes are slitted in hostility. “Leave it be.”

Expression wavering, Griff fought with himself. He had disliked Oberyn Martell from the very moment they had met up with him in Dorne. He had liked him even less when Oberyn convinced Rhaegar to take his sister Elia as queen once the war was won. Callous and tasteless, Jon had called the act.

Clenching his fingers tighter around the leather straps of his rein, Griff looks ahead. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

Rhaegar lowers his eyes. “As it is, my father probably knows we’re on the way. There might have been some survivors from the battle. Survivors that ran back to King’s Landing to warn everyone.”

“If they’re smart, they’ll ring the bell and surrender the city to us.” A bit too hopeful, even Arthur doubts his words. The Sword of the Morning was the one beam of optimism without fail. “There’s still good, righteous men in the Gold Cloaks. They’ll do what’s right.”

“Never trust people to do the right thing, Arthur. They will always disappoint you. If they’re terrified of Aerys, their fear will make them silent puppets.” Remarked Griff.

Rolling his dark eyes, Oberyn presses his heels gently at his horse’s side. “You must be so fun at parties, Ser Griff.” With that, Oberyn leaves them to move closer to the front.

“I can’t believe you agreed to take that man’s sister as your wife.”

He couldn’t believe it either. He didn’t want to believe it.

Rhaegar had no time to meet his future bride. His stay at Sunspear was filled with plans of war and grief. Many pleasant things had been said about Princess Elia, of her beauty and kindness, but it fell on Rhaegar’s numb ears. He had already had a beautiful and kind bride. So incredibly kind that it could be considered a fault. Originally, he would have been happy enough to live out the rest of his days taking no other wife. But Oberyn was sacrificing a lot. All of Dorne was sacrificing a lot. He had to repay them in some way and this was the best way possible. Oberyn had once told Rhaegar how in search of his own bride prospect, their searching had led them to Casterly Rock. Of course Lord Tywin turned down the marriage offer, claiming that Cersei was to marry Rhaegar. It all seemed funny now, Cersei actually becoming Oberyn’s wife in due time. That old man could easily switch cloaks.

There was a lag in the march forward that didn’t go unnoticed by Rhaegar as he lifts his head. Quite a few men ahead of him prevented him from seeing what was going on. Motioning to a squire that had been lingering around him, Rhaegar instructs the young man to check to see what was going on. He didn’t have to move much before the men in front yelled out “ARCHERS!!”

“There seems to be archers with barrels up ahead, Your Grace.” He rushed back after getting word from those in the frontline.

“Barrels? What banner do they fly?”

“None, Your Grace. There’s but four archers ahead. We can possibly overwhelm them with our own horseback archers.” With more commotion coming from behind him, the squire turns his head; anxiety made a vein in his neck thump to life.

No time at all. Before a decision could be made there was a hissing noise before the loud ear bursting sound of a large boom. A rush of green clouds fled above. Rhaegar’s panic drummed in him when realization hit everyone.

More fucking wildfire.

“DISPERSE!!!”

The wildfire was quicker than any horse and it was hungry. Eating up the frontline of men, a green hell broke loose. Men and horse alike were being swallowed up and spat back as ash. No bones remained. Not with wildfire. Rhaegar knew his father had a large storage of wildfire made by the mages, but he had figured all of it was used for the sea that had met them at Tumbleton.

His mind raced as his army tried desperately to outrun the wildfire. There was no use trying to go around it. Wildfire spread with such speed and could cover acres within seconds. More than likely the archers that had set it ablaze were now dead. It was impossible for them to get away in time before the wildfire met oxygen.

Damn Aerys.

Damn him!

Was wildfire his only weapon?

Rhaegar grit his teeth.

Coward.

But. . . it made Rhaegar smile like a mad man.

Aerys may have been a coward, but this meant he was a scared coward. Scared of the now all too real threat of his son coming to take his throne.

The roaring of wildfire grew all too close behind him.

Nothing he hadn’t anticipated for. While he had hoped that had been the last of the wildfire, Rhaegar knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

“CATAPULTS!!” He roared and the message was obediently followed down the line.

Men in the way back had already started preparing it once they spotted the green flames. They knew time was of the essence. The three catapults they had obtained from the lords that had newly sworn loyalty would not extinguish all of it, but enough so that the cavalry could reform into a single file line. Wagons with sand had been pulled in the back, all filled to the brim. Though troublesome to carry across the uneven terrain, it would prove to pay off.

Rhaegar wouldn’t let his father pull another surprise on him. He had come to realize that he shouldn’t underestimate his father’s madness. Rhaegar had to think like Aerys to prevent another Tumbleton. The frontline had already been destroyed, thousands of men perished. He wouldn’t lose anymore.

Orders flew and in a matter of moments, the catapults released.

Rhaegar didn’t dare to turn around and check if it was working. He had to make it closer to the rear. More instructions were given and the catapults refilled. The loading did take longer to do, but even a little respite from the wildfire could turn the tides.

One day Tyrion and Rhaegar had been leisurely flipping through a book with a diagram of a catapult that had been used in a battle centuries ago. Tyrion had tried to explain the physics of the design. The pullback and the spring, all the components that made it a valuable military tool.

“How do you remember all these things? At your age I wasn’t quite as knowledgeable.”

“I spend my days in the library. With no one setting any expectations for me, it’s easy to read for hours on end.”

It saddened Rhaegar that this child was treated harshly but it didn’t surprise him. (y/n) had told him as much about her own childhood and how similar it was to Tyrion’s: utterly lonely.

If Rhaegar ever saw Tyrion again, he would have to thank him. And once Tyrion was old enough, Rhaegar would have him as a squire. He would give that boy all the opportunities necessary to shine. He knew (y/n) would be overjoyed if her little brother were to show the world that he was not limited by his stature. Like his sister, if Tyrion really wanted to live his life, then he had to be far away from Casterly Rock. Out of Tywin’s domain.

Wildfire parted, being smothered in patches as catapults continued to be reloaded. Soon there was just enough space for a horse to safely pass through.

Already reading his prince’s mind, Griff called out “COLUMN!!!”

Somewhere in the distance Rhaegar could hear Robert Baratheon repeating the word to the squadron that managed to stay in form. If there was any cocky bastard that Rhaegar would trust, it was Robert. The man held great command in his booming voice that no one else had to repeat it. The remaining men of his army gather in a swarm.

“Your Grace!!” A knight that had the sigil of House Wagstaff rides alongside him. “Ser Arthur Dayne has been injured!! As is Prince Oberyn Martell! The skin and muscle on his side is falling off. And Ser Arthur’s leg is nearly skeletal.”

Hardly listening, all Rhaegar could focus on was the opening in the wildfire. An opening to King’s Landing. Practically able to see the towering structure made him eager to trample right through. The iron throne was in sight. This could all be over in seconds.

Ser Arthur and Prince Oberyn could stay behind to heal. But Rhaegar couldn’t let this opportunity slip between his fingers. The men that left in his army were ready for his command. Another young lord interrupts him before Rhaegar had the chance to part his lips.

“Prince Rhaegar,” his voice holds a pleading tone. “Please don’t go through with this. Look around you. We’ve lost more men than you even realize. The Lord Cockshaw and the Lord of the Grassy Vale have deserted you.” Such audacity this boy had with concerned brown eyes and the daggered heart of House Staedmon on his chest.

Tunnel vision had blinded him to the hundreds of corpses that littered the ground beneath him. The lad spoke the truth though. The ugly truth that Rhaegar’s own madness had blotted out. Revenge against his father was making him callous. Where once he had cherished those he fought alongside, at the moment he could care less. All that he could see was the throne ahead. And his father’s head on a spike.

Recollection briefly entered his mind when he looked at the Staedmon knight. A knight that he had found joking with Robert Baratheon many times. For the life of him, Rhaegar couldn’t come up with a name.

Despite the sand having made a path for them, the wildfire was still very much a threat to the rest of his army. Sections that weren’t suffocated by sand were running rampant and eating away at the land. Screams from men being burned alive suddenly grew loud in Rhaegar’s ears. The cloud of retribution was lifting to the horror around him. How could he have not seen the true reality of what Aerys had done?

Banners of stags and suns alike were tattered and bloody.

Rhaegar caught sight of Arthur Dayne being hauled away. His purple eyes were open and looking up to the sky. That sight scared Rhaegar more than anything.

Griff rides up to him, urgency in his tone. “What is your command, Your Grace? Shall we proceed?” Soot and ash covered his brow. His horse panted fretfully, scared of the surrounding wildfire. “We can’t stand here much longer!”

More men were dying by the second while his remaining brigade continued to pulled further back as the fire advanced. Sooner or later they would be back to where the first wildfire outbreak had been.

He looked once more to Ser Staedmon.

The young man saw the conflict immediately that was swirling inside of Rhaegar. Vengeance against his father or protecting the rest of his men like he had wanted? “If you continue on your path, we will all die. We simply do not have enough men anymore, Your Grace.”

“Who are you to be questioning Prince Rhaegar?!” Snapped Griff but Rhaegar ignored him.

Ser Staedmon spoke the truth.

He hated to let Aerys win again. What could they do against wildfire? At the rate the catapults were able to function, there was absolutely no way to completely destroy it. Wagons had already been emptied and one catapult had even been engulfed by wildfire that strayed too close. The Kingswoods were up in flames and everything was lost. It was impossible to take the capital by land, that much was clear. Not as long as Aerys continued to use wildfire as his last ditch effort. Who knew how much more wildfire he had in store.

“FALL BACK!!” Brief silence met him from Griff until he repeated himself more harshly making Ser Connington move into action to obey his prince. To Ser Staedmon, he instructed “Use the remaining sand to build a line where the wildfire cannot pass through. And hurry!”

Relieved, he nods. “Yes Your Grace!”

Disappointment was a disgusting pill to swallow as was humiliation.

None so much as watching acres upon acres being destroyed and possibly surrounding towns.

He had to think of his men though. Men that had given up everything to fight alongside him. In that regard he would not be like Aerys. Aerys wasted life as one would with tissues. He didn’t know how many men he had left, but he would not take them for granted.

By the end of it, Rhaegar's army had been knocked down to half of the men he had originally had. A heartbreaking loss of Rhaegar.

Oberyn and Arthur had barely survived the wildfire's clutches. Unable to use his left leg, Arthur was forced to stay in his improptu gurney as septas went to work on amputating the visible femur away. The Sword of the Morning was delirous from the pain and for him, Rhaegar gave up his stash of milk of the poppy to help him get through the surgery. Griff held vigil next to his prince as many other men were being tended to around them. For the wildfire not to have immediately consumed the two men was a miracle. Many others were injured due to the sudden and unexpected betrayal from those lords that had 'deserted' his campaign. The Lord of Cockshaw and of the Grassy Vale had left initially only to regroup and start attacking the men that were trying to flee from the green flames. Perhaps thinking that if they were to get rid of the scattered men, King Aerys would reward them greatly. The only reward they got was their execution by the hands of Rhaegar. Griff and his men went out to search for them and returned with them. Rhaegar didn't even bother to hear their execuses or their pleading. He shoved them down onto their knees and swiftly beheaded them without any remorse. He would send their heads back home and warn them that that was the result if anyone was to betray Prince Rhaegar.

Ser Arthur's screams of agony jolted Rhaegar back to the present before him. The crunching of his bones were enough to make nearby knights gag and go running for a bush to vomit behind. Rhaegar and Robert Baratheon hold him down but they needn't use much force. He was weak and didn't try to pull their hands off of him. Sweat ran down the sides of his face and his normally tanned complexion was pale, ghostly even.

Rhaegar forced himself to watch as the septas forced the saw down onto Arthur's femur. Could see the progress they had made, but they lacked sharper instruments.

After five more minutes of their sawing, Arthur passed out; thankfully still breathing. Rhaegar and Robert release him and let out a collective sigh.

"He can't fight with us after this. Not with just one leg." Robert said sadly. Grime and soot made his cheeks just as black as his beard. Weary blue eyes are blood shot. "We need Ned and the North back."

Rhaegar plopped down onto the ground. "Even the North wouldn't be able to help us now. Not if my father is going to keep resorting to wildfire."

"He can't have that much left!"

"Never underestimate the mind of someone who has gone insane. He's always had a fascination with wildfire. I don't doubt the pyromancers have vaults filled with wildfire for his majesty to use at whim. We can't take King's Landing by land."

Robert huffs and lets himself fall beside Rhaegar. Beyond, they could still see the wildfire's glow as it continued to rampage the Crownlands. It could be days before it lost it's velocity and died out. In that time, how many people would lose their lives and homes? Not just those in the Crownlands, but also those inside of King's Landing. The terrain was torn to shreds and not the most hospitable for carts of supplies and necessities that those living inside the walls needed to survive. Without food from the Reach, many would starve and soon.

"So by sea then?"

"King's Landing only has a handful of naval ships ready for battle." explains Rhaegar. He could hear Oberyn's curses in the background. He was not as bad as Arthur although the wildfire had eaten away the top level of his skin and had nearly stripped him of his external oblique muscles. "It wouldn't exactly be impossible."

"Putting together a naval fleet takes more time." sighs Robert as he begins to think of how long it would take Storm's End to procure the sufficient naval power. "Might even have to build more ships. In that time who knows what Aerys will do."

"He's scared. That much is clear. Why else would he keep utilizing wildfire? He knew the men he had would not be enough to take on our swords. With so many lords turning sides, Aerys knew that the outcome would not be in his favor. It was a good thing Ser Staedmon stopped me when he did, otherwise. . . I would have led us all to death."

Usually a gruff man, Robert's voice softens. "Virgil is a good man. Able to shed light on any blind fellow."

So hellbent on getting his revenge, Rhaegar had lost sight of the lives he had put in danger. He wanted to be better than Aerys. He would be better than Aerys.

"I think it's time to call upon Tywin Lannister." Rhaegar grudgingly admits. "While we can't take King's Landing on foot, Tywin has enough funds to build us all the ships we need."

Dark blue eyes flick over to him with uncertainty. "You sure you want to bring him in so soon? I don't trust that gold shitting bastard."

"And you shouldn't. But you yourself said that putting together a naval fleet will take time. We don't exactly have time. I'm worried what my father will do. Not just for the next battle, but for the people in the capital. They're all going to starve."

"Our best hope is that they'll revolt against Aerys and we won't even have to deal with him."

That was the ideal plan, but they feared Aerys. Even the hungriest citizen wouldn't dare go up against him in fear of the repercussions.

Being marched past them were a few prisoners Rhaegar's men had tracked down. Those men of the Grassy Vale and of House Cockshaw who had betrayed him. Part of Rhaegar regretted using the last of his milk of the poppy on Arthur. He could use some of it at the moment. To go into dark oblivion at least for a few hours. Arthur had worried that his prince had become addicted to the substance. Maybe he had been right.

"They may not be the friendliest bunch, but maybe you should consider allying with the Iron Isles." Robert recommended.

He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. Rhaegar definitely didn't want to deal with the surly Baelon Greyjoy. If one could believe, he was less enjoyable than Tywin. When Rhaegar had still lived in the Keep, he had read many missives from the Lord of Pyke and how bitter he was that Aerys was preventing his people from pillaging coastal towns in Westeros.

"Do you really want to give Tywin the upperhand? The more you ask of him, the higher the payment will be when this is all over."

"At least he's not expecting me to take Cersei as a wife." Even saying it outloud put a sour taste in his mouth. "Oberyn gets that. . . pleasure."

"Someone as beautiful as Cersei Lannister can't be that bad."

"Lannisters are not all that they appear. Beauty and kindness do not always correlate." He didn't want to give Tywin so much power, but now he had to resort to using his backup plan.

His black armor made it difficult for him to stand back up, but Robert was already there helping him. "I guess we couldn't keep winning. It was all seeming too easy."

At that, Rhaegar laughed for the first time in months. "The other shoe had to drop eventually."

A grin stretched across his dirty face. "At least that means there's more fighting ahead of us."

"If that is something you look forward to."

"What I really look forward to is relaxing with a pretty girl on my arm and another on my lap." Robert sighs and Rhaegar had to stop himself from reminding the lord of his wife Lyanna. Even Rhaegar knew of Robert's infamous womanizing and philandering. It hadn't stopped with the marriage to Lyanna and he doubted nothing will stop it. As much as Robert loved Lyanna, he had more love to share with other women. "But fighting reminds you that you're alive and that men, no matter how noble or blue of blood, still has an animalistic tendency. We are all the same on the battle field. Death doesn't discriminate between sinners and saints."

Rhaegar had never heard Robert put anything so eloquently. He smiled at the burly man and clapped him on the shoulder. "Let us rest for the next battle then. Rest and bide our time until we are ready once more."

Taglist:

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[alienoryva]

Mad king and Kingsguard ;

[A Worst king with the Greatest king's guard]

(from left to right) :

Ser Gerold Hightower(lord commander), Ser Barristan Selmy,Ser Oswell Whent,Ser Jaime Lannister,Ser Arthur Dayne,Ser Jonothor Darry and Prince Lewyn Martell

[novaursa]

The Flames We Loved (dark baptism)

This is one of my darker works. If it's not your cup of tea, skip it. All warnings are up for this additional part of the story.

Happy Halloween! 🔥🩸

- Summary: You are called to Aerys' chambers. A ritual that is familiar to you, one which always happens in wake of his burnings. But this time is more unholy than ever before.

- Pairing: daughter!reader/father!Aerys II Targaryen

- Note: You can place this scene everywhere you wish in the story's timeline.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- The first part of the story: prelude

Ser Jonothor Darry and Ser Gerold Hightower flank you, silent and unmoving as they escort you through the darkened corridors of the Red Keep. Their faces remain impassive, revealing nothing of what lies ahead, but you feel it—the ever-thickening dread that seems to claw at your skin. Your father, the King, has summoned you, and you already know what this night holds by the strange energy in the air, like the silent fury of a storm building over Blackwater Bay.

As you approach his chambers, the heavy scent of smoke and copper clings to the air. Blood—fresh, potent—fills your senses. Ser Gerold opens the door, his white cloak barely brushing your shoulder as you step inside, and your heart seizes at the scene laid out before you.

The room is dark save for the dancing flames in the hearth. A dragon egg, dormant yet pulsing with a life long snuffed out, rests in the embers, radiating a feverish heat. But it is the blood—spattered across the floor, the walls, even the bed’s silken sheets—that halts your breath. It drips like a sacrifice offered in some forbidden rite, and you realize, horrified, that the blood is his. Your father’s.

He stands before the bath, skin pale and ghostly under the smears of red that trail from his chest, arms, and hands. Cuts line his flesh, jagged, cruel things, like he’s waged a silent war against himself in the throne room. Aerys’s eyes, wild and unchained, fall upon you with a strange, predatory glint as you step forward.

"Father," you murmur, throat tight. "What happened? Why are you bleeding?"

His expression shifts, his mouth morphing into something halfway between a smile and a sneer. He raises a hand—bloodied, trembling slightly—and gestures for you to come closer. "Y/N," he says, your name falling from his lips like an invocation. His voice is thick, weighted with something dark and unholy. "The Iron Throne does not yield easily to mere men."

Without breaking his gaze, he motions to the bath, its water shimmering faintly in the firelight, waiting. "Undress," he commands, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Your hands shake as they move to the fastenings of your dress. The fabric slips from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, and you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you cannot name as his gaze sears across your bare skin. You take tentative steps forward, lowering yourself into the bath. The water is warm, almost scalding, but it does little to ease the chill sinking into your bones.

Before you can fully adjust to the heat, Aerys is there, sinking into the bath beside you, the water turning crimson as it mingles with the blood from his wounds. His hands find your face, his touch harsh yet feverish. The fierceness in his eyes flares, and he presses his lips to yours, fierce, hungry, claiming. The taste of copper stains your tongue as his kiss deepens, consuming, as though he intends to devour every part of you.

"Do you understand, daughter?" he murmurs against your lips, his words slipping into Valyrian, a language as ancient as the dragons themselves. "The blood… it is our birthright. It is the legacy we pass on, the fire within our veins."

His hands roam over your skin, leaving bloody trails in their wake, the red smeared across your pale flesh like a lover’s caress, an artist’s mark. He moves with purpose, his body pressed tightly against yours, and when he enters you, there’s no tenderness, only an unrelenting intensity that steals your breath.

A gasp escapes you, involuntary, and a twisted amusement lights his face. He strokes your cheek almost mockingly, leaning down to whisper, "Does it frighten you, my sweet? The blood? The power that thrums beneath your skin? It should. It is a gift few are worthy of."

His pace quickens, his hands gripping you tightly as he continues to move within you, his breathing ragged, punctuated by muttered words in perverted Valyrian, half-prayers, half-madness. And then, his hand reaches for something beside the bath, a flash of metal catching the firelight. You barely have a moment to understand before he draws the blade across the skin just above your breast, a quick, sharp slice that makes you cry out.

“Shh,” he murmurs, a mockery of comfort as he presses his hand to the wound, his blood-stained fingers mingling with yours, your blood running together, sinking into his skin as though binding you to him in a way words never could. "Do you feel it?" His voice is low, almost reverent. "Our blood as one, a union of fire and flesh."

His lips find your neck, trailing down to the fresh cut, where he drinks in the sight of your blood with a fevered gaze. "You are mine, Y/N. As I am yours. We are bound by blood and by fire, by destiny and by madness. There can be no other."

Each movement, each thrust, feels like a command, binding you tighter to him as his words sink into your mind like a brand. The water swirls around you both, darkened with blood, the scent of iron and smoke heavy in the air, a grotesque ritual binding you to the Mad King, your father, in a way that feels both holy and damnable.

And as he moves within you, his words grow softer, becoming a chant, a prophecy, spoken only for you. "We are the blood of the dragon, daughter. Ours is the fire that shall never die. And in the end, the world shall burn, and we shall watch it burn together."

As your bodies move in sync, your breaths merge, shallow and gasping, his hands rough yet steady as they hold you firmly in place. The intensity builds, like fire caught in a tempest, and you cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, holding on as if you are the only things keeping each other tethered to this world. The iron-scented water sloshes around you, crimson and murky, but you are too lost to care. His eyes blaze into yours as you both reach that blinding height, his mouth turning into a near-manic grin as he basks in your grasp, your shuddering breath against his blood-streaked skin.

Your gaze drifts, just for a moment, falling upon the dragon egg in the hearth. It sits lifelessly amid the flames, long turned to stone, a relic of a time and magic that seem long gone, yet it calls to something deep within you—a shared memory, a yearning for the impossible. You feel the weight of it in your chest, the hollow ache of something that will never truly be reborn.

Aerys notices the direction of your gaze, his hands cradling your face. He presses his forehead to yours, a rare, fleeting gentleness in his insanity. "It will awaken someday," he murmurs, his voice soothing, almost tender, as though he’s comforting a child haunted by nightmares. "Our blood, Y/N, our fire. One day, it will return, and the world will tremble as it did in days of old."

He kisses your temple, his lips ghosting over your brow, calming you with the ease of someone who has held you since infancy, as if his words hold an unspoken promise that everything, no matter how twisted, is as it should be. "But it needs sacrifice," he whispers, as if sharing a secret. "And we are both made for this, aren’t we?"

The bathwater, still tinged with the remnants of his blood, feels heavier as he pulls you to your feet. His grip is possessive as he leads you from the crimson-stained waters, not sparing a glance at the mess of diluted red that remains behind. He draws you to the bed, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze, and you follow, half-dazed, a strange warmth filling you as his fingers tighten around your hand.

As dawn approaches, he finally loosens his grip, and you drift into an uneasy sleep beside him, his arm draped over you like a claim etched into your very soul. The silence is heavy, almost oppressive, the room filled with the lingering scent of iron, smoke, and something darkly primal, bound by the memory of his feverish touch.

The servants enter the room with the first light of morning, their footsteps hesitant, almost fearful, as if they sense the aura of something forbidden before even crossing the threshold. The scene before them stills their breath—blood pools around the edges of the bath, drying into dark streaks upon the floor, the sheets tangled and streaked with red, as if an unholy rite had been performed in the dead of night. Their eyes widen as they catch sight of the stone dragon egg in the hearth, its black surface cracked and scorched, as though touched by something unearthly.

One servant dares to look upon you, lying beside the king in a deep slumber, your skin still marked with the faint streaks of his blood. He holds you possessively, his hand splayed over your shoulder, his fingers stained with dried crimson. Even in sleep, his grip upon you is fierce, binding, as if he would never allow you to leave.

Another servant averts her gaze, swallowing against the horror curling in her stomach as she approaches the bed. She shudders, her hands trembling, but Aerys’s eyes snap open before she can even reach for the sheets. His gaze is piercing, feral, and the servant stumbles back, her cheeks blanching as his lips curl into a twisted smile.

“Did you come to see the remnants of our union?” he asks, voice low and mocking, the hint of mania bleeding through. "Look upon her,” he commands, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. “Look upon the blood of dragons made flesh, the fire reborn. We are eternal, she and I."

The servants exchange wary glances, their faces pale, eyes flitting between each other as though afraid to look directly at either of you. Aerys’s laugh fills the chamber, hollow yet ringing, a sound that seems to seep into the stone walls, leaving an imprint that will haunt the room long after dawn has faded.

"Tell them," he murmurs, voice dark and soft as he settles back beside you, eyes drifting closed once more. "Tell them the blood of the dragon is more than they could ever understand."

[dreamofspring-rpg]

Golden Blood - Personajes Canon - Tierras de la Corona

Ambientación de las Tierras de la Corona:

Las tierras de la corona son todas aquellas tierras que rodean Desembarco del Rey, siendo estos abanderados directos del rey y de la familia Targaryen. En los últimos años, una de las casas más antiguas de esta zona fue completamente erradicada del mapa: los Darklyn. Esta antigua familia fue destruida por orden de Tywin Lannister, quien tras encontrar al rey Aerys a salvo por mérito de Barristan Selmy, optó por borrar cientos de años de historia de aquella gran casa. La locura del rey y la inestabilidad de esta condición generaron luego el auge de la hermandad del Bosque Real, un grupo de forajidos y saqueadores que azotó por varios meses aquella zona y sus poblados, generando pobreza y descontento en la zona. Finalmente, esta organización fue destruída por la guardia real y otros miembros de la corte, regresando a la supuesta paz que había antes. En esta tierra, la paz siempre es superflua, ya que el rey siempre tiene conflictos y todos sus conflictos caen sobre sus abanderados y pueblos más cercanos.

Rhaella Targaryen, 36 años: Reina de los Siete Reinos, esposa del rey Aerys II Targaryen y madre de Rhaegar y Viserys, los dos hijos que siguen con vida. Conocida por su fortaleza y dignidad, Rhaella ha soportado mucho en su vida debido a la creciente locura de su esposo y sus múltiples abortos, manteniendo sus deberes hacia la Corona con dignidad y rigor.

Rhaegar Targaryen, 22 años: Príncipe de Rocadragón y heredero al Trono de Hierro, conocido y admirado por ser poseedor de muchas cualidades: Carismático, bello, un guerrero hábil y un gran músico. Rhaegar siente poco aprecio por su padre, el Rey Aerys, y es visto como una luz de esperanza por los súbditos de Desembarco, quienes ansían el día que la corona esté sobre su cabeza. Se casó con la princesa Elia Martell en el año 280, fue durante ese mismo año que nació su primera hija, la princesa Rhaenys. La tensa relación con su padre y el rechazo del Rey hacia su hija lo ha mantenido viviendo en Rocadragón en vez de Desembarco del Rey.

Elia Martell, 24 años: Princesa de Dorne y esposa del príncipe Rhaegar Targaryen, renombrada por su gracia, belleza y su delicada salud. A sus 24 años, Elia es madre de la princesa Rhaenys y se encuentra esperando a su segundo hijo, aunque aún es muy temprano en su embarazo. A pesar de sus problemas de salud, es una figura querida y respetada tanto en Dorne como en la corte de Desembarco del Rey. Su matrimonio con Rhaegar ha consolidado importantes alianzas entre Dorne y los Targaryen, lo que ha llevado como un logro con orgullo, para compensar la falta de verdadero amor entre los dos.

Gerold "El Toro Blanco" Hightower, 59 años: Lord Comandante de la Guardia Real, Ser Gerold Hightower, también conocido como el Toro Blanco, es una figura imponente y respetada. A sus 59 años, Gerold ha servido a la Corona con lealtad inquebrantable y ha demostrado ser un líder formidable. Su destreza en el combate y su compromiso con la protección del rey han consolidado su reputación como uno de los mejores caballeros de su tiempo.

Jaime Lannister, 15 años: Hijo mayor de Tywin Lannister, es conocido por su habilidad en combate y su agraciada apariencia. A pesar de ser el favorito de su padre, carece de su astucia y habilidad estratégica. Luego de luchar en la campaña contra la Hermandad del Bosque Real, fue nombrado caballero por Ser Arthur Dayne. En una visita a Desembarco del Rey, Cersei le reveló que su padre pretendía casarlo con Lysa Tully y le sugirió unirse a la Guardia Real para evitar el matrimonio y estar cerca de ella. Quince días después, Jaime fue nombrado hermano juramentado de la Guardia Real por Ser Gerold Hightower en Harrenhal, convirtiéndose en el miembro más joven de la Guardia.

Willem Darry, 42 años: Caballero y maestro de armas al servicio de la corona. Es hermano menor del señor de Darry y de Jonothor Darry, guardia real del rey. Willem es un hombre disciplinado y honorable, dedicado a sus labores como maestro de armas tanto para formar a las tropas reales como para ayudar a los cortesanos del rey a manejar adecuadamente la espada. De hecho, fue el propio Willem quien enseñó a Rhaegar Targaryen a usar la espada.

Jonothor Darry, 44 años: Hermano juramentado de la Guardia Real, y hermano de sangre de Willem Darry, maestro de armas del rey. Jonothor es un guerrero implacable en la batalla y honorable fuera de ella, pero es alguien que ha aprendido a ser pasivo ante los arrebatos del rey, siendo uno de los pocos en quienes confía, ya que nunca hizo ni una mueca al verlo en sus actos macabros y complots demenciales.

Barristan "El Bravo" Selmy , 45 años: Hermano juramentado de la Guardia Real, Barristan es posiblemente el hombre más valiente y honorable de los Siete Reinos, ya que no solo ha demostrado su coraje en incontables situaciones, sino que fue él mismo quien cortó la cabeza de Maelys "El Monstruoso", el último de los Fuegoscuro, dando fin a los reclamos de esta gama de bastardos Targaryen. Es sumamente hábil con cualquier tipo de arma, incluyendo las lanzas de justa.

Arthur "La Espada del Amanecer" Dayne, 23 años: Hermano juramentado de la Gurdia Real, Arthur Dayne es uno de los grandes amigos de Rhaegar Targaryen, príncipe de Rocadragón y heredero al trono de hierro. Es uno de los pocos en la historia en portar la legendaria espada Albor, de la casa Dayne, recibiendo el apodo de todos los demás que blandieron aquel acero blanco. Es un hombre honorable y terco, capaz de dejar todo en la vida por su honor de caballero y por su amigo Rhaegar.

Ashara Dayne, 17 años: La hermana de Arthur Dayne llegó el año 280 a Rocadragón, durante el matrimonio de la princesa Elia Martell y el príncipe Rhaegar para ser dama de compañía de la primera, gracias a la influencia y la estima que la Corte tenía sobre su hermano. Su personalidad tímida que contrasta con su exótica belleza, y sus hipnóticos ojos violetas, ha dado bastante que hablar dentro de la Corte Real, donde se ha destacado como una de las damas más hermosas que ha pisado Desembarco en los últimos años.

Oswell Whent, 40 años: Hermano juramentado de la Guardia Real y hermano del señor de Harrenhal. Es un guerrero honorable, que apenas puede tolerar las locuras de su rey, pero que mantiene su juramento con la esperanza de encontrar en Rhaegar Targaryen un gran rey. La gente del pueblo llano comenta que su hermano decidió anunciar el torneo en su señorío luego de una fugaz visita de Oswell que partió con suma rapidez de la capital.

Lewyn Martell, 49 años: Hermano juramentado de la Guardia Real y tío de Doran, Oberyn y Elia Martell. Lewyn es un gran caballero al estilo dorniense, pero claramente se diferencia de un caballero común de la Guardia Real. Es un hombre leal a la corona, más desde el matrimonio entre Rhaegar y Elia, pero su lealtad está principalmente con Dorne y con su casa, aunque no lo revele públicamente. Si bien tiene votos de castidad, es bien sabido que tiene una amante en la capital, aunque sus hermanos juramentados prefieren guardar el secreto.

Janna Tyrell, 19 años: La segunda hija de Olenna Tyrell llegó a la Corte con dieciocho años, con una invitación de la Reina Rhaella quien, luego de haber perdido a gran parte de sus damas por el comportamiento de su esposo, decidió acoger a una última joven más, manteniéndose cautelosa y desconfiada. Pero Janna ha demostrado serle útil en más de una manera, quedándose a su lado en una posición de importancia que no se esperaba tener, menos luego de que el matrimonio de su hermana menor se le hubiera adelantado. Tiene una personalidad alegre, lengua suelta para los rumores y un carisma que compensa ser eclipsada por damas más atractivas.

Maestre Pycelle, 65 años: Gran Maestre de la Citadel, sirviendo como Maestre en la corte de Desembarco del Rey. Si bien su cuerpo se muestra desgastado y muchas veces sus palabras no parecen tener lógica, es una persona muy hábil y astuta, sabiendo moverse en la corte perfectamente y siendo un jugador en las sombras del juego de tronos.

Varys "La Araña", 25 años: Eunuco proveniente de las Ciudades Libres. Solo él conoce su verdadera historia, pero sea por la razón que sea, alguien terminó cortándole su hombría, dejándolo sin absolutamente nada, por lo que Varys tuvo que hacerse desde cero, hasta lograr una gran fama como informante y conocedor de todos los secretos del continente. Esto llamó la atención del rey Aerys Targaryen, quien lo llamó a su corte y lo nombró Maestro de los Susurros. Aún en lejanía, Varys mantiene una buena relación con su antiguo amigo Illyrio Mopatis, ahora Mágister de Pentos.

Myles Mooton, 18 años: Heredero de Pozo de la Doncella y escudero del príncipe Rhaegar Targaryen. Se dice que es uno de los hombres más cercanos al príncipe, y uno de los tantos que desea verlo en el trono de hierro, aunque no queda del todo claro si es por amistad y honor o por beneficio personal, ya que sería cercano al rey. Es imprudente y valiente a la vez, siendo esta una espada de doble filo.

Richard Lonmouth, 16 años: Heredero de Lonmouth y escudero del príncipe Rhaegar Targaryen. Con Myles Mooton cerca de obtener su título de caballero, Richard es nombrado escudero del príncipe recientemente, generando una admiración veloz por el príncipe y adquiriendo una lealtad casi tan incondicional como la que ya tenía con el vino y las tabernas.

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 1

what the fuck is this: it's me drafting a fake robert's rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each when done

finally worked out how all the events of the rebellion break down into ten episodes you better believe im so serious about finishing this

anyway we're onto season 2 and rhaegar's about to get silly

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

title for this one: the most i've ever thought about petyr baelish

Open to a woman’s screams. The chaos of the birthing room as Elia gives birth to Aegon with great difficulty. Rhaegar stands watching on, anxious, as the baby emerges silent - it takes several frightening moments before the boy cries out. Elia collapses once she hears him, and there’s a great rush to recover her. Meanwhile, Rhaegar is presented with the child. The maester says he is glad that Elia has been delivered of a son, as he fears she will not be able to bear another. Rhaegar, looking at his son, murmurs that this must be Aegon. But, he says, there must be a third. There cannot be a third, says the maester

Opening creds. if this were an anime we’d have changed the song by now so we’re going from caramelldansen to the lucky star opening

Jaime Lannister training in the yard of the Red Keep with two other members of the Kingsguard, Lewyn Martell and Oswell Whent. The king has kept him at arm’s length since Harrenhal, so Jaime has been able to forget the circumstances of his joining the KG for a bit and enjoy training with these elite knights - he seems to have built some rapport with Lewyn and Oswell already. Lewyn suggests the approaching Barristan Selmy try Jaime; Barristan, who is still dubious of a teenager’s place in the KG, declines and says he has come to convey a message instead - Aerys has requested Jaime’s presence in the throne room. Jaime, surprised, goes alone

Aerys, accompanied by Arthur Dayne, is receiving congratulations from lords and ladies of the court on the birth of his grandson, his Hand Lord Merryweather proposing a great tourney. Aerys dismisses all but Arthur upon Jaime’s arrival, and bids him closer - we get the sense that Aerys has harboured some residual fears about Jaime, but attempts to push those aside now. He has Jaime stop before him at the top of the steps to the throne, and looks at him directly. Quivering, then almost fond, Aerys tells Jaime he has his mother’s face. Then, his voice hardening: ‘but you’re your father’s child, I know.’ Arthur, from the foot of the throne, calls Jaime down ‘with his grace’s permission’, which Aerys allows. Jaime gratefully acquiesces, and follows Arthur to the exit. Arthur tells him to relieve Jonothor Darry in Maegor’s Holdfast, and watches Jaime leave with a hard, searching look

SUDDENLY!!! Big clash of swords. We’re at a melée at the Eyrie. Robert makes short work of various opponents one after the other. Faced suddenly with Ned, he grins apologetically before tossing him comfortably to the side, finally duking it out with Lyn Corbray (yes i remember him) and winning to great ardour

With Ned and Robert afterwards striding back towards the castle. Robert suggests Ned puts his back into it next time, he knows he was letting him win. Ned replies that he doesn’t get as much out of this southern sport as Robert. Nonetheless, he notes that Robert fought with fire today, and Robert replies that he was imagining each of his opponents as Rhaegar Targaryen. His marriage to Lyanna will be brought forward in light of the Prince’s odd behaviour at Harrenhal - whether Rhaegar was drunk or mad as his father, Robert will not share his betrothed. Anyway why don’t they go unwind at a brothel later lol

At camp with Lyanna and Rickard, who are travelling through the Riverlands for Brandon’s wedding - they’re camped near Harrenhal, awaiting his arrival before they travel back to Riverrun with him. Lyanna and Rickard aren’t on the best terms: Rickard has recently pulled forward her marriage to Robert in an attempt to defend her honour following events concerning the Prince last year. Lyanna appeals to Rickard once again to postpone the wedding; Rickard says he believes Lyanna will learn the appeal of marriage when she sees Brandon married to Catelyn. Lyanna bitterly wonders if Catelyn would be so happy if she knew that Brandon had loved before. Rickard, angry to hear his daughter talking of THAT kind of thing cough, says a man can love before, to better know his wife when he meets her. Lyanna asks why it’s a different rule for women? Rickard scolds her, reminds her he’s made her a fine match and that the wedding is being brought forward for her benefit - she’s been the cause of enough trouble already. Lyanna storms off into the woods, Rickard calling her back angrily

At Riverrun with the Tullys - big ole feast. Hoster raises a toast to Catelyn’s engagement to Brandon, as Catelyn smiles shyly at his side. Petyr, on the sidelines, looks ready to combust. The feast turns to a dance: Catelyn takes her first turn with Brandon (he's a very showy dancer, and makes her laugh with big spins and flourishes). Then she dances w Hoster and Brynden, whilst Petyr dances with Lysa, constantly craning his neck to look over at Cat. Eventually Petyr manages to break away from Lysa and ask Cat for a dance. Cat, in high spirits, giggles and jokes with him, and Petyr, already a few drinks down, tries to kiss her. Catelyn pushes him away laughing, and Brandon, having seen it all, jokingly scolds Petyr for trying. That something so serious to him is a joke to the pair of them stings terribly. Petyr skulks away to his room 

Rhaegar with Elia. Rhaenys is playing in his lap, but both her parents are distracted. Eventually Elia looks to Rhaegar, and Rhaegar, realising they’re about to talk, asks a maid to take Rhaenys away to play with Viserys. When they're gone, Rhaegar remains silent - but Elia reads his mind. With some strain, she tells him she’s given him all she can now: they may have no love for another (Rhaegar does not jump to quarrel this, and Elia’s heart visibly sinks despite itself) - again, they may have no love for one another, but she still means to do her duty. These children are both of theirs, and they must protect them. Rhaegar nods, but his mind appears to be elsewhere

Brandon is due to part ways with the Tullys for now as he goes to meet Rickard near Harrenhal. Catelyn whispers her thanks in Hoster’s ear for the fine match just as soon as Brandon’s out of earshot - but Petyr overhears. His face twisting, he immediately steps forward to challenge Brandon (who is already mounting his horse) for Catelyn’s hand. Catelyn in utter shock, Hoster Tully looking fairly murderous like 'you do this on the day of my daughter's engagement'. Brandon is first stunned, then amused, then stunned again when he realises Petyr is serious. He tries to put the boy off, saying he’ll meet a lady of his own one day, but the condescension only turns Petyr’s eyes darker - Brandon sees that. Fed up trying with the kid, he says he’ll humour him, if it only helps Petyr come to his senses

Rhaegar deep in the library at the Red Keep with Arthur Dayne. Surrounded by books and scrolls, he mutters, uncomprehending, what Elia has told him - that there will be no more children, no third head of the dragon. Once all his dreams had told him to choose Elia, and he had followed them to her without a care for his own wants or desires. But now his dreams show something different: they show what he fears his heart wants - so how can he trust whether it’s truly the visions he follows, and not his heart? Arthur like idk that sounds rough man

Petyr arrives before Brandon shoddily armed, and Brandon (in full armour) declares that this would be a poor fight indeed. The Tullys watch on, Hoster still raging, Cat and Lysa in a panic. Brandon offers Petyr opportunity to yield, but Petyr strikes his breastplate pathetically with his sword. Brandon offers him the chance to yield again, and still Petyr seeks to provoke him. Finally, Petyr lands a blow that comes a little too close to blood for Brandon’s liking. Finally enraged, he sends Petyr flying with a fist, never drawing his sword. Petyr attempts to rise again, but Brandon stamps down on his chest (Lysa begins shrieking), and Petyr chokes. Catelyn screams, and begs Brandon to leave the boy - she’d never marry him anyhow, but he was dear to her once. Brandon raises his eyebrows, and wipes his foot on the grass. Washing his hands of the business, he kisses Catelyn’s hand before departing, whilst Petyr coughs up blood into the dirt, watching Brandon ride away with pure hatred in his eyes

Ned helps a drunken Robert back up the spiral stairs to his room once again. They pass Jon Arryn’s solar, and he smiles with a touch of conspiracy to suggest their secrets are their own. Ned grimaces - he has no secrets

Don’t ask me where the nearest brothel is to the eyrie i hate to think. I don’t know how they got back with ned half carrying a drunk robert they just did

Petyr lies barely conscious in a dour back room of Riverrun - all that Hoster is willing to afford him now. The door creaks open, and a figure steps through the door, candle in hand. Petyr says: ‘Cat.' The figure answers: ‘It’s me.’ Petyr, eyes barely open behind the bruising, grins a bloody grin. The figure tells him tearfully that Hoster means to send him back to the Fingers as soon as he’s healed, that it’s all monstrously unfair, that Brandon is a brute, that she hates to see Petyr suffer so. Petting his face, the figure says that no-one knows she’s here, so for tonight at least they can do what they like. Petyr grins wider as Lysa leans in to kiss him

In KL: Jaime, patrolling the courtyard, sees green light flashing in the windows of the throne room. He frowns, uncomprehending, and walks carefully towards a side door to investigate. Opening it, he hears muffled screams coming from the throne room beyond the next door, and approaches with great trepidation, one arm outstretched. SUDDENLY!!! Arthur Dayne emerges from the throne room, and we have the faintest glimpse of a bright green light: a terrible scream rings out. Just as quickly, the door is closed again. Arthur studies Jaime a moment, then suggests he goes to bed: his duties are done for the night

Rhaegar having an absolute Willy Wonka’s tunnel of visions. Blood seeping into a fast-running river, dancing green flames, guts spattered across stone floors. And a blue rose again. Rhaegar opens his eyes at once, suddenly resolute

Lyanna, sat alone in the dark woods, turning a dried flower crown about in her hands

next: episode 2.02

[warsofasoiaf]

Was the outcome of the battle of the Trident solely dependent on who prevailed in the dual between Robert and Rhaegar? Or perhaps to rephrase it, do we get a sense of the course of the battle independent of these two actors?

We know a little bit. We know that Rhaegar commanded his personal unit, with the other three being commanded by Barristan Selmy, Lewyn Martell, and Jonothor Darry.

The Dornish were on Robert's left flank, which means that Rhaegar placed them on the right. Lyn Corbray's father fell in battle, and Lyn himself took up Lady Forlorn and charged the Dornish lines, slaying the wounded Lewyn Martell. That suggests that the Vale troops, under Jon Arryn, were placed to Robert's left.

Jason Mallister slew three of Rhaegar's bannermen, which means they were either houses of the Narrow Sea or they were houses hand-picked by Rhaegar to serve under his personal command.

Roose Bolton counseled for Barristan to be slain, but given that Robert was present, it doesn't mean much. While Ned says that he was lucky that Barristan didn't find him, this does not necessarily imply that the Northmen faced Barristan's unit. Eddard could have just been speaking figuratively.

We don't know who killed Jonothor Darry, only that he died.

So we have an idea where Robert and Rhaegar were, and where the Vale and Dornish were. The rest is speculative. Given Robert's high regard for Eddard, it's possible he may have given Eddard command of the van, but he also may have formed four armies to match Rhaegar's four armies: under Jon, Hoster, Eddard, and himself.

Thanks for the question, Ekendall.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[gift-to-literature]

aerys targaryen, ned stark'ın ağabeyi brandon ve babası rickard'ı öldürürken ve yine aynı şekilde aerys karısına tecavüz ederken ses çıkaran tek kral muhafızı o olmuştur. rhaegar'ın karısı elia ve iki çocuğunu korkunç kaderlerinden kurtaramadığı için hala vicdan azabı çekmektedir. vicdan azabı çektiği bir başka şey tysha olayındaki rolüdür.

aerys, tywin'i varisinden mahrum bırakmak için jaime'yi kral muhafızı ilan etmiştir. jaime ise hem muhteşem bir şövalye olmak hem cersei ile yakın olabilmek için kral muhafızı olmuştur.

rhaegar'a savaşa kendisini götürmesi için yalvarmış ama aerys onu yanında tywin'e karşı koz olarak tutmuştur. isyan sırasında babası ile savaşmak zorunda bırakılmış içinde fırtınalar kopmuştur.

başta şövalyeliğe inanan, onurlu bir kahraman olma hayali kuran bir çocuktu. ama ailesinin ve hizmet ettiği insanların inandığı değerlerle alay ettiğini gördü. idollerinin, doğru olanı yapmak yerine yeminlerini ve kanunlarını kendilerine kalkan ettiğini gördü. bu yüzden şövalyeliğe olan inancı kırıldı ama yinede doğru olanı yaptı ve nasıl tepki vereceklerini bile bile insanları kurtarmak için aerys targaryen'ı öldürdü.

ikinci kralına da aşk için ihanet etti. zaten her zaman aerys'i öldürmesine rağmen bir targaryen sadığı olmuştur ve robert'ı kral olarak görmez. robert'ı çok kez öldürmek istemiştir. cersei, robert'ın çocuğuna hamile kaldığında kadının isteğiyle düşük yaptırdı. cersei ve jaime bir nevi lancelot and guinevere gibidir. lakin daha toksik bir ilişkileri var. kraliçeye üç çocuk vererek iç savaşa neden olup tarihin seyrini değiştirdi.

idolleri rhaegar targaryen, brynden tully, criston cole, gerold hightower, arthur dayne, oswell whent, barristan selmy, lewyn martell, jonothor darry ve brienne of tarth...

brienne ile tanışmasıyla dünya ne kadar kötü bir yer olursa olsun iyiliğe ve güzelliğe inanmanın mümkün olabileceğini görüp önceliklerini kral muhafızlığına verdi.

zeki, komik, badass, himbo, bencil, küstah, sadık, merhametli ve aynı şekilde acımasız, pervasız, dürüst, cesur, fedakar, çoğunlukla adil olmaya çalışan, güç ve entrikadan nefret eden, çabuk öfkelenen, inatçı, hayattaki tek motivasyonu sevdiklerini güvende tutmak olan, feminist bir şahıstır.

babasına saygıda kusur etmez ama nasıl biri olduğunu bilir. bu yüzden cenazesinde içten içe ölmeyi hak ettiğini bilerek göz yaşı dökmemiştir. kardeşlerini her şeyden çok sever.

bran'i sadist olduğundan değil ailesini korumak için öldürmeye çalışmıştır. onu öldürmeye çalışırken aslında küçük kendini öldürmüştür.

tyrion için ned stark'a saldırmıştır.

savaşı kaybettiğini anladığında cesurca düşman komutanı öldürmek için hamle yapmıştır.

loras tyrell ile harika bir abi kardeş ilişkileri var.

kendini beğenmişliğinin ve çok bilmişliğinin nedeni yakışıklı, zengin, soylu olması değil yetenekli olmasıdır. haliyle elini kaybetmesiyle kibrini kaybetmiş, kimlik karmaşasına girmiş ve gözleri açılmıştır. kaybettiği eli aynı zamanda bran'i öldürmeye çalışan ve doğarken cersei'nin topuğunu tutan eliydi. arya ile joffrey arasındaki olaydan sonra cersei için arya'nın elini kesmeyi ya da onu öldürmeyi düşünüyordu. elinin kesilmesinin böyle sembolik yanları var.

brienne'i tecavüzden ve ayıdan, kardeşini idamdan kurtarmıştır. freylere ve leydi spicer'e gereken ayarı vermiştir. pia ve jeyne westerling'i korumuştur. kuzeni joy'u savunmuştur.

joffrey'i sansa'nın öldürdüğünü düşünmesine rağmen onu koruması için brienne'i görevlendirmiş ve ona ned'in kılıcını vermiştir.

annesini küçük yaşta kaybetmiş bir çocuktur ama ailesinin geri kalanının aksine tyrion'u annesini öldüren çirkin bir cüce olarak görmez tersine onun mirası olarak görür.

o kadar yakışıklı olmasına rağmen aşkına hep sadık olmuştur.

sevdiği kadının aslında onu hiçbir zaman sevmediğini, ömrü boyunca kullanıldığını anlayınca bütün o insanlık dışı hareketlerinin bir hiç uğruna olduğunu görmüş ve bu manipulatif ilişkiye bir son vermiştir.

artık myrcella ve tommen'a babalık yapmak istemektedir.

catelyn stark'a verdiği sözleri sonuna kadar tutmuştur. robb stark'a saygı duymaktadır.

kargaların ziyafetindeki akrabaları genna, kevan, lancel ve daven ile muhabbetleri çok iyidir. edmure ile konuşmasında kendi ününü kullanarak blöf yapmış ve başarılı olmuştur. bu sayede kan dökmeden kuşatmayı bitirmiştir.

sansa'yı kurtarmak için brienne ile birlikte yolculuğa çıkmıştır.

karakter olarak annesi joanna ve amcaları kevan, tygett, gerion'a benzer.

aslında gerçekten iyi bir komutandır.

her zaman ailesinin birleştirici gücü olmuştur.

kısacası en muhteşem kurgusal karakterdir.

[valyriansource]

Jaime snapped. “...good men every one.” “Dead men, every one.”