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celtigxr · 17 days ago

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THE PINK DREAD - CH. 33 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: As the Valyrian houses gather for the anticipated dinner party, King Viserys has an unexpected announcement to share. Word Count: 6070 CHAPTER WARNINGS: We're still talking about menstrual blood. I also only proof read this once, cause ya girl is getting lazy. So apologies for types/grammatical errors, and odd sentencing/wording.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: This is another one of those chapters I'm not particularly happy about. I think my problem is that I absolutely LOATH writing scenes where there are more than four people. Because there are just too many moving parts and I feel like I need to acknowledge everyone's existence. It's tiring. Anyway, I hope this reads better than I feel like it does.

The Small Council Chamber was at its fullest for the first time in years. Though there was a single marble left unclaimed in the centre of the table, a white and grey granite sphere that would belong to the Master of Ships. Alas, with Lord Corlys occupied near a decade in the Step Stones, and now incapacitated to near death, the subject of anointing a new master of ships was broached several times in the past, and that day was no different.

“Word has it that the Cannibal has moved all the way north west, settling in the mountains around Iroman’s Bay. Dalton Greyjoy told me himself that the Ironmen have begun preparing ships with scorpions, and arming themselves with harpoons, ready to take down the beast,” Larys leaned back in his chair, eyes casting over the nearly full table before landing on the King. “He said that he is willing to take down the nuisance at your pleasure, your Grace, and all he asks is for a seat on this Council and a bride with a generous dowry.”

“Of course he did,” Lord Bartimos rolled his eyes.

“Your Grace, we do need a Master of Ships,” the Lord Hand reminded, and everyone’s eyes strayed to the lone marble in the hexagon. “Lord Dalton is an exceptional sailor and captain, and has one of the largest fleets in the Seven Kingdoms, next to the Redwyne’s.”

“Yes, but might I remind you of his reputation,” Daemon shot Otto a look. “He’s done far worse than I, and yet you kept me farther away from this Council.”

“Daemon, please,” Viserys lifted his hand, already tired. “We are not going to bring up the past today…” He turned to look at Barty, who appeared to agree with Daemon, predictably. With a sigh, Viserys lifted his arms, “Tell Lord Dalton I will think on it. Until then, there are many others that we must consider.”

“Like who, your Grace?” Lord Wylde raised an eyebrow.

“Lord Manderly, for example, or Ser Cedric Redwyne, Lord Corwyn’s most accomplished son,” The King answered swiftly. “Not to mention, Lord Clement and Arthor Celtigar, Bartimos’ sons. Clement has possessed the seas since his youth, and knows Lord Corlys personally.”

At the mention of his sons, Barty’s chest swelled, “It would be a great honour, my King. My boys would make you proud, should you have them.”

Rhaenyra glanced at the Hand of the King; he appeared as if he was holding on by a thread. His mouth opened to say something, but instead he clamped it shut after sharing a look with his daughter beside him.

Having a Celtigar on the Small Council again would impede Otto’s ambitions. With Bartimos back, Rhaenyra could tell that the Hand was becoming more irate and impatient, making his motives clearer with every desperate attempt at salvaging Hightower power. His plan was thwarted when Viserys’ health improved; he was no longer addled with Milk of the Poppy and strained with pain, making it easier for Otto to manipulate by the power of suggestion and urgency. Ever since Lyonel Strong had stepped down as Hand and was tragically killed in the Harrenhall fire, Otto’s re-admittance into the position was merely due to the lack of better prospects. At that point, Viserys’ relationship with Bartimos was strained, otherwise the Claw Isle lord would have taken Lyonel’s place.

However, now they are friends again, it was only a matter of time before Viserys realized he could replace Otto with him. The man’s presence in the Small Council while not having a title to belong there was enough of an implication. It would only take a few pushes until Otto finally snaps, forcing the King to do so. Ultimately, that would be a win for Rhaenyra, ensuring that there is no more Green influence whispering in her father’s ear.

Rhaenyra swiveled her eyes to Alicent for a moment, before moving her gaze onto her hands folded on her lap. She and the Queen have been cordial since Visenya’s funeral, though they have yet to share any true moment of reconciliation. At most there were glances of pity, sadness, longing, mutually understanding that they both wished to bury the axe. It was just a matter of who was going to lower their weapon and make the first wave of the white flag. After her conversation with Jacaerys the night prior, it would appear that she would be one to do that.

Otto was wrapping up the final details of the Tourney, after making suggestions for possible low-born men to be knighted and even chosen to be a Kingsguard. Then he asked if there was anything else that needed to be brought up before they departed, and Rhaenyra felt a sense of deja vu.

“Yes, there is, as a matter of fact,” she stood up slowly as everyone remained seated. “Several years ago, I stood in this Council Chamber with what I believed was a wise and honourable offer… I said it then, that we are one house, but we have since been divided all these years.” Her eyes roamed the table, noting everyone's expressions one by one. Daemon looked expectant, Otto looked too controlled, Alicent appeared conflicted, and her father’s pleasant smile of encouragement filled her with hope. The first and last time this was mentioned in this room, Alicent barred more mental strength than he.

“His Grace wishes this to be a season of peacemaking, which I heartily agree… As does my son, Jacaerys, who was the one to bring this up to me.” Bartimos tilted his head towards Daemon, his brow furrowed.

Rhaenyra turned to address him first, “Lord Bartimos, your daughter is simply lovely. You know well that I adored her when we both resided in the Red Keep, as I did her mother… A union between our families would have been ideal, yes, but I made a promise to my son that I would give him the liberty to choose, as my father gave me when I was his age.”

The Lord of Claw Isle seemed to deflate in his seat, his eyes seemed to age as he blinked defeatedly, “My Princess, I would like to apologize for any insult my daughter has—”

Rhaenyra smiled and lifted her hand up to stop him, “Apologies are not necessary. There was no insult to be had… On the contrary, Jacaerys and Valeana got along well enough, but nothing beyond cordial companionship. Instead, your daughter has inspired my son…” Rhaenyra trailed off and looked back to Alicent. “He has approached me to inquire about the possibility of taking Princess Helaena’s hand in marriage. As it happens… He has already discussed it with her privately.”

Alicent straightened in her seat, her mouth hung open with the incapability of articulating a response. Her eyes casting over to her father did not go amiss, and neither did Daemon’s look towards Bartimos.

“Helaena has not mentioned this,” Alicent stated, her tone betraying her need to disbelieve her ears.

“It appears to be a new development,” Rhaenyra folded her arms in front of herself diplomatically. “Though Jace has said he wished to court her quietly and without stress to ease Helaena’s mind.”

“Well now,” The King finally spoke, his smile widening. “I did not wish to say it… But this was something I always wished had happened all those years ago.”

“But your Grace, we have already discussed betrothing Aegon with–” Otto was promptly cut off by Viserys.

“It was discussed and I made the decision of it not being discussed further,” Viserys looked at Otto, his purple eyes wide with the unquestionable authority of a King. “Helaena is too soft for Aegon. You of all people understand his appetites, as you spend most of your day containing the deplorable truths he hides in Flea Bottom. I know he loves his sister, but it does not go beyond that… And I believe everyone in this very room could all agree… He does not wish to marry Helaena, as much as she does not wish to be married to him.”

The Lord Hand visibly sunk into his chair, his hands lifting in a feeble attempt to convey surrender. “Aegon is your first born son, your Grace. If there were anyone to marry first, it would be him. He is well past the age.”

“I’m aware, Lord Otto,” The King smiled ironically. “Though as you are all aware by now, Aegon is in a very unique situation. And if the whispers have any merit,” His eyes flickered over to Larys, “It’s the same situation as my other son.”

The King fell quiet, looking down at his four fingers as they drummed the marble sitting in its nest in front of him. Then he moved his eyes onto his friend, Barty, who sat at his right. Bartimos stared back, his jaw taught as they silently communicated the obvious.

“I am inclined to allow the chips to fall where they may,” Viserys finally says, lacing his eight fingers in front of himself. “For my daughter, Helaena, however, I wish the world for her… And what better world can I give her than one where she is to be a future queen of the Realm, to be married to a honourable, compassionate, and strapping man like my grandson? Alicent, my dear, do you not agree?”

The question was a challenge, to gouge a reaction out of his wife. If Alicent did not agree, she would voice it. But something kept her lips buttoned, and she looked wide eyed between her husband, her father, and her former friend. If only Rhaenyra could read her mind, to know what she knew, to feel what she felt. Instead, the Princess waited with baited breath.

Alicent slowly stood up from the table, her fingers anchoring her body on the table as she did. Her eyes found Rhaenyra above everyone else’s, effectively avoiding the imploring eye of her father. With a swift movement, she grabbed her goblet, and raised it to the Princess.

“I agree,” her answer fills the room, stirring emotions. “It is time we repair the rift between our families, and make our house whole again.”

When Valeana woke up that morning, it was earlier than she typically would find herself in. Shyla was missing from her bed, which only reminded her of her dream. A wave of nausea hit her; it felt like guilt, it felt like loss. It was so much simpler then, to choose both and have them willing. But it was not reality, as much as she curled back into her pillows, hoping to fall back into that dream that ended so unsatisfyingly.

There was a distinctive squish between her thighs when she moved, and she internally groaned and threw her head back. She must have bled through her rag during the night. Carefully she moved her body over to inspect the sheets underneath her, finding it clear, thank the gods. Then, Valeana quickly strapped on Lady Footlyn so she could clean herself at the washing basin in the corner. A meticulously humiliating process she had to do every single morning the last few days; every moon for the last 8 years. Only 40 more to go.

Though when she pulled up the damp cloth, she didn’t find what she expected. Her moon’s blood was over, what remained was slick, translucent, with a pinkish hue (likely remnants of her blood). Cringing at herself, she resumed her cleaning, ensuring that her thighs were thoroughly dry. At least she didn’t need to plug herself with cotton anymore.

Over breakfast, it was collectively decided that Shyla should no longer suffer another night trying to sleep next to Valeana. Apparently, she had snored so loud and stuttery, Shyla had to check to make sure she was breathing several times.

“You sounded like you were a street cat being mounted by a direwolf, Val,” Shyla rubbed the corners of her eyes. An apt description, considering what she was dreaming that night. Unfortunately, there was a lack of Cregan. Perhaps another night.

Floris was violently reluctant in giving up her single bedroom, but it was put to rest when Shyla expertly handled it.

“It’s alright, Floris. The settee is kind of comfortable… I guess I can stay there for, what…two more moons? My neck won’t hurt forever.”

So, it was decided. Floris’ single room would be Valeana’s. The transition between rooms was a series of glares and muttered remarks as trunks of clothing were moved from one room to the other. When it was all settled, Val collapsed on the larger bed with a sigh. Floris’ former bedchamber was smaller, situated just above the one Valeana shared with Shyla. Stairs lead to it, a circular room in the spired tower above their family’s wing of the Holdfast. There was a larger tower on the opposite end, where her parents’ were. Unlike her former accommodations, this one’s balcony was considerably smaller, just enough for a lounging chair and a tea table.

Aemond would have a harder time climbing up there.

Val lolled her head towards the inconspicuous bookcase, now empty of Floris’ belongings. Almost forgot about that. She lifted herself up on her elbows and looked around the room, now truly taking in how blissfully removed it was from the rest of the apartment.

A smile crept on her face, slow and devious, just as her hand moved up the hem of her skirt.

The highly anticipated, but even more dreaded gathering of the Valyrian houses would take place that evening for supper. Valeana had spent the entire day making Queen Alicent’s dragon dress with Rosy in the private confines of her new bedquarters to kill the day. While her maid could not talk, she was actively listening as Valeana imparted ideas for her own gown for the Creature Ball. In the end, she decided to be a white lioness, a homage to her mother.

By the time it was time for her to get dressed for supper, the Queen’s dress was practically finished. All that was left was a final fitting to ensure everything was in place, which they had plenty of time for. The Creature Ball would not happen for another moon, at least, some weeks after the Tourney and the Victor’s celebration in the pavilions was over.

There was, however, a formal dress code for the evening. Everyone must wear the colours of their house, which meant that the Celtigars will be garbed in whites and reds, including Floris.

“Why was she even invited,” Valeana ranted to Rosy as the girl helped her pull the solid vermillion dress over her head. “She’s not a Celtigar, she’s not Valyrian.”

And yet Floris wore Celtigar colours, a red bodice with matching tiered layer, an ivory skirt underneath and trumpet sleeves. A ridiculously extravagant dress that expressed something that she clearly is not. All that was missing were crabs embellishments, like Shyla’s.

Her younger sister’s dress was mostly white, save for the inside of the corset in the front, and the stripe of red on the hemline of her skirt, sleeves, and square neckline. Her mother wore a solid red dress, much like Valeana’s, but hers had far more bedazzlement with pearls and polished quartz, which matched her statement necklace.

Valeana had a fair amount of vermillion and ivory coloured dresses, enough to fill two trunks over had she brought her entire wardrobe with her to King’s Landing. Though there was one in particular that was her favourite, one that she had only worn once at her coming out ball on her 18th name day two years ago. It was a bit romantic, perhaps a little much the evening, but the King did request his guests to wear formal attire. And Valeana was feeling particularly romantic that evening.

The skirt was slimmer than her usual gowns, but still held a petticoat underneath to keep shape. Though unadorned with embroidery, it was flowy and delicate. What made the dress her favourite work was the sleeves and the neckline. The sleeves were trumpet shaped, though entirely made out of vermillion dyed veil-type lace that exposed her arms from shoulder to wrist. The dress itself was designed around this fabric, so the lace was the focal point. The bodice had a lace corset in the front, and the neckline was sweetheart shaped, bordered by more lace that framed the tops of her bosom, clavicle, and over her shoulders with a patterned fringe.

Rosy plaited her hair intricately, though its loose appearance made it appear effortless to anyone who didn’t look too close. Four smaller braids beginning from her scalp met in a knot at the back of her head, and the rest of her hair was pulled into two thick messy braids.

Valeana stood after strapping on Ser An-toe-knee Woodsby, then shook her hips around, making the dress swish around her legs. Looking up at Rosy, she asked, “How do I look?”

The mute girl communicated with her hands, a language that Val slowly learned over time. Her fingers made a crown on her hand, and then she covered her left eye before pointing at her heart.

Prince Aemond will love it.

Valeana smirked bashfully, “And what about Prince Aegon?”

Rosy stared at her with a tilt of her head as she considered the question. Then she motioned with her fingers around her chest, and made a squeezing motion.

He will enjoy that part.

Valeana threw her head back in a laugh, then turned around to go find her shoe for her right foot. Her eyes glanced at the bookcase, the one that hid the hidden passageway, and she couldn’t help but involuntarily swallow at the mere possibilities this room offered.

The dinner was being hosted in the Holdfast’s private ballroom, designed for family-only events and intimate parties. The Celtigars are the first to arrive, Bartimos leading the charge in his ivory doublet, trimmed in red, marching red grabs on his shoulders. Ursula behind, then Clement in a dark red doublet, and Arthor wearing similar. The girls filtered in right after, Floris, Valeana, Shyla.

There were two tables positioned in a T shape, but separated by a platform. The smallest table sat horizontally on the platform with larger chairs. Two in the middle that faced the hall itself were the tallest, and the most ornate, a visual indication that it belonged to the King and Queen. The longest table was placed vertically below the platform some distance away; it had a total of fourteen chairs.

“I suppose that is where us kids sit,” Arthor comments as he moves around his family to take a gander around the ball.

There was a band in the corner, playing lightly to create a background ambiance. Drapes were pinned to the ceiling, red, black, white, aquamarine; the colours of the Valyrian houses. Valeana noted green was distinctively vacant in the decor, as were the Hightower banners. On poles that flanked the fringes of the ball room, the sigils of House Targaryen, House Velaryon and House Celtigar stood proudly one after the other. At the very end of the ballroom, beyond the modest dance floor, was a statue of a dragon with three hands, candles were placed on its pedestal, illuminating it from below.

Valeana stared at it for a moment, examining each head closely, particularly the one in the center that faced the room, eyes trained forward.

The dragon must have three heads, a voice echoed in the back of her mind.

Not long after their arrival, Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon strode in with their litany of children, save for the younger ones, Viserys and Aegon, who likely were put to bed by then. After the obligatory formal greeting, the growing crowd began to mingle. Clement went to crowd Daemon, and Jacaerys slowly made his way towards Valeana, who lingered around the statue.

“The milkweed plant worked,” Jace said cheekily, his hands behind his back.

Val grinned at him, “I told you. Did you talk to your mother about it?”

He nodded, “I did. She told me she had wished for it years ago, but was thwarted by Alicent. I’m guessing the Queen wished Aegon and Helaena to be wedded, but that was not going to come to pass…”

She hummed in understanding, “And what does Helaena think of it?”

“She has told me she cares for me, but she does have reservations about being Queen. I assured her that if she wishes it, she will be Queen in title only, and that she does not need to be obligated in affairs of the court. I only wish for her to be contented, and not forced into a loveless marriage where she is not appreciated.”

Valeana smiled softly and placed a hand on his bicep, “You’re a sweet man, Jace. She is very lucky to have you.”

He looked down, suddenly overcome with bashfulness. Jace nodded his thanks, and then lifted his gaze up at her, “You look very pretty, by the way. That colour suits you.”

She pursed her lips sheepishly, “Thank you, my Prince.”

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind about us? Aegon the Conqueror had two wives—”

“Don’t push it.”

Upon entering the ballroom, Aemond’s eye immediately found her, like a moth to the moon. The vibrant red of her dress contrasted greatly against the canvas of grey stone and wooden floors, like an orange-red rose growing on a vine along the face of the castle. He barely registered the formal greetings towards the King, he was too busy examining the narrow space between his Valeana and Jacaerys. He locked eyes with his nephew, and the insufferable bastard smirked at him before turning to her and saying something.

Aegon appeared at his side, just in time for Jace to walk away from her, “Does he believe he still has a chance with her?”

Aemond could only grumble in response as Jace strode by them. “Uncles,” he greeted with a short nod of his head, and a faint smirk at the end of his lips. Aemond’s body prickled; he was so worried about Aegon, he had forgotten about Jace. He did not seem to appear a threat anymore, with Valeana very obviously showing disinterest in the forced courtship, but that was contradicted by their show of friendliness.

Did she grow close to him during that day in the Godswood? He didn’t ask how the ride had gone when he was on her balcony, he was too consumed with the need to be with her, he had pushed it out of his mind completely.

His father and mother moved to their centered seats at the table on the platform, which signaled everyone to do the same. Without being instructed, it appeared that everyone knew where they were to be seated. The elder generation took their place at the King’s table; Bartimos on Viserys’ right, and Otto on Alicent’s left. Rhaenys sat across from him, Daemon across Alicent, Rhaenyra across her father, and finally, Ursula sat across from her husband.

At the longer table, it was a bit more chaotic as people scrambled to claim seats next to people they wished to be rooted next to, and actively avoided those they didn’t. Aegon and Aemond shared a look before they practically scrambled towards the approaching Valeana, who was about to take a seat next to her brother. Aegon, though, rested his hand on the small of her back, and guided her to the other end of the table.

“Where do you think you’re going, Lady Valeana?” He smiled against her ear as he pulled out a chair near the end of the table. After he tucked her in, Aegon settled into the seat on her right, next to Helaena. Aemond took the seat on Valeana’s left, the very end of the table.

Even though everyone in the room presently was aware on some capacity of his affection for Valeana, Aemond still had to keep the appearance that he wasn’t. He hadn’t the opportunity to end things with Maris, and the servants and guards that milled the room were just as responsible for the whispers as the ladies of court were. The last thing he needed was for Borros Baratheon to learn about his dishonourable snubbing of his daughter through a maidservant.

Aemond was about to place his hand discreetly on Valeana’s knee underneath the table, but he looked up to realize he was sitting directly across from Lucerys, who watched him with oppressive entertained scrutiny. Valeana must have sensed the tension, because she turned to him with concern etched in her features. No words were said, but her hand reached under the table and squeezed his thigh comfortingly. The corner of his lip twitched at the contact.

The long table was quiet as everyone settled, only the sound of music and the shuffling of servants were heard. Even the King’s table was subdued with its chatter, reduced to murmured compliments. The tension hung in the air like the wrought iron candelabras that were suspended from the ceiling with thick chains. The weight of Vaemond’s sudden and brutal execution was still a fresh memory, but there was also something else amongst the adults that appeared to keep their shoulders squared. Particularly the Lord Hand, who’s eyes were darker than usual. Aegon caught his eye before their grandsire moved it onto Aemond. A silent reprimand, though neither prince knew what they were being scolded for.

The first course was gradually spread along the tables; smaller fare such as mutton stew, fresh bread and soft butter, cured sausages and spiced olives. Grilled vegetables and various sliced cheeses, accompanied by jams from different fruits; fig, grape, strawberries. Salt water oysters were piled high on a bed of salt, next to it were steamed mussels in a red sauce.

“Let us pray before we begin,” Queen Alicent said loudly enough for all in the room to hear. Her piousness is not shared with most in the room, but none seemed to protest, save for the slight exasperation found on Daemon’s features. Everyone collectively bowed their heads and wove their fingers on their laps, everyone except for the Blacks, who only folded their hands.

Aemond respected tradition, even if it was from his mother’s side. He and his siblings may have been raised to worship the faith of the Seven, but They held very little value in their life. Aemond, too philosophical, too agnostic, would say that Their existence is both plausible and impossible. If the Father was just, the man sitting in front of him would have paid for the sin of slicing Aemond’s eye clear from his head. If the Mother was merciful, the woman sitting next to him would have both of her legs. Life was not fair, the gods less so, but out of respect for deities that he may one day face, he bowed his head and prayed when he was supposed to.

Aegon, on the other hand, was different. He believed in the Seven, sure, but also believed they didn’t love him; that they turned their backs on him the day he was born, and decided that he was their mistake that they were trying to forget. It should have been Baelon that survived, not him. Baelon would’ve been the heir his father always wanted.

“May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love,” Alicent led the prayer. “May the Smith mend bonds that have been broken for far too long. May the Maiden shower us with love and light during this Royal Conclave. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.”

There was a notable shift to the atmosphere that could be tasted on the tip of everyone’s tongue at the mention of Vaemond. Lucerys’s mouth pinched and his eyes roamed the table before resting them on his lap; his step-sister beside him blinked rapidly, as if she was trying to keep a stoic face; Rhaenyra stared vacantly at a spot on the table, her nostrils flaring; Daemon rolled his eyes to the back of his head; Valeana gave a barely audible sigh through her nose, the creases between her brows deepening.

Before people could tuck into their meals, the King pushed himself up, his weight held up by his cane; ivory and ironwood, a dragon nesting on the top. Everyone looked up at him expectedly and he looked at all their faces with a smile so contented, so peaceful, it was enough to forget that all other individuals in that room hated the other for one reason or another.

“This is an occasion of multiple celebrations, it seems,” his mouth widened as his teeth peaked from behind his lips. “Tonight is the first night in generations that the three great Valyrian houses are united under one room. The Targaryens, the Velaryons, and the Celtigars all survived the Doom of Old Valyria.”

Aemond’s eye drifted over all the faces here present. There wasn’t a single true Velaryon by name present; the only two that held blood of a Velaryon were Targaryens by name. No, the Velaryons were nearly a dead line. Vaemond’s sons were the last true Velaryons, but they were not here. They were no older than Aemond’s nephews, Viserys and Aegon the younger, and by now they would be learning that their father was dead. That half his head rolled around like a flipped coin on the flagstone floors of the Throne Room, less than a minute after he shouted ‘bastards’ at the top of his lungs.

“And we sit here today, as one house: The House of Valyria. Proud, ancient, and forged in fire and blood, in salt and sea,” Everyone raises their goblets in murmured agreement. “It truly gladdens me to be part of this historical moment. Our families will now no longer be divided, but blended. My grandsons, Jace and Luke are set to be married.”

Aemond felt his blood drain from his body instantly. His brow furrowed, his heart ached in a pang of betrayal. His brother felt no different; they both turned to the woman seated between them. Valeana hadn’t seemed to notice this, as she was looking at Jace with a slight smirk upon her lips, and that made it all the worse.

The implication of their father’s speech was thick in the air, and hard to ignore. Both Princes exchanged glances of disbelief, and yet the way Valeana and Jaceaerys were speaking with each other when they first entered… What the hell was going on? Was… did Valeana…? No, no, surely not…

Aemond’s fingers were visibly trembling under the table, his eye prickling, and his ribs felt like they were going to crack under the pressure of his rapidly beating heart. Aegon was less conserved than he; his mouth twisted as if he was trying to swallow down bile. He lifted his hands and placed them on the edge of the table, ready to push his chair away and leave the room.

But then the King continued.

“Luke will marry his cousin, Rhaena, and together they will one day become Lord and Lady of the Tides. And as for my eldest grandson, Jacaerys, my daughter’s heir… Well, he has asked for the hand of the purest soul in this room. It fills my old heart with immense joy to announce the betrothal between Prince Jacaerys and my little butterfly, my daughter, Princess Helaena, the future King and Queen of Westeros. I wish them a lifetime of happiness, peace, and prosperity.”

“Here, here,” someone had said through the sounds of clapping.

Aegon had made a brief screeching noise with his chair in his failed attempt to leave. He instead spun to Helaena sitting next to him, who held a sheepish, shy smile, lavender eyes avoiding everyone in the room, other than Jacaerys who was watching her with fondness.

“Helaena and–” He began, but cut himself off, turning back to Valeana. “Were you aware of this?”

Val leaned back into her chair, her fingers laced innocently in front of her, “I kind of had a hand in it.”

Aegon practically sunk in his chair, his hands raking into his scalp. The adrenaline seeped out of his pores and landed on the floor. He lulled his head to look at his sister, and then back at Valeana, “I do not know if I feel better.”

Valeana raised her eyebrows, “Did you think he was referring to me?”

He leaned into her, his voice a whisper, only loud enough for her ears, “Darling, I was very nearly going to kidnap you right here and now.”

Aemond physically felt like he nearly avoided a landslide; visually, he remained impassive, if not a bit bothered around his one expressive eye and flared nostrils. Still his shoulders relaxed once the relief washed over him like a cool breeze on a humid day, which softened the blow of the knowledge that Jacaerys was marrying his fucking sister. A development that he realized was his second least favourable probability, right next to Jace marrying Valeana.

No, he thought as he glanced at Aegon, leaning into her space like she was the only source of heat in the middle of winter. The third least.

Facade be damned, he could not sit silently by while his brother was allowed to publicly stake his claim on his woman, like she was some newly discovered, unoccupied patch of land. Aemond leaned back in his seat haughtily, and without a word spoken, he reached under the table and scooped up Valeana’s left hand that sat idly on her thigh. Ignorant to his intentions, she instinctively wove her small fingers in between his large ones, likely believing for a split second that he simply wanted to convey relief in the shadows. However, he had no intention of keeping it in the dark any longer, not now when the stakes were growing too high.

It was a simple gesture, but one that conveyed a very large statement. Aemond pulled their conjoint hands above the table and laid it between them, his thumb moving rhythmically over the back of her palm. Those closest to them had their attention ripped away from their plates and conversations to stare. He could feel her hand tense in his, and he watched her in his peripheral as she turned to him, mouth ajar, eyes wide.

Aemond tilted his head in her direction, eye lifting to meet her marbleized peridots, blinking up at him in shock. His smile coiled at her reaction.

“Ao jurnegon gevie isse bona grēza, ñuha jorrāelagon (You look beautiful in that dress, my love),” his voice was velvet on bare skin, soft, sensual, erotic. “Absolutely stunning.”

On her otherside, Aegon leans forward into the table to openly glare at his brother. His jaw rotates as he grinds the back of his teeth; the only visual proof of him trying to contain himself. In the end, he huffed an ironic laugh, and then smirked at his brother’s brazenous.

Aegon moved his chair closer to Valeana, the legs roughly screeching against the floor hollowly. With his side now flushed against hers, he draped his arm around her shoulders and leaned in to give her a peck on the corner of her mouth.

“How lucky am I to have the most gorgeous creature on earth at my side,” his tone was saccharine and sanguine, his eyes were predatory and possessive.

Valeana could do nothing but remain trapped between them, not knowing where to rest her eyes. When she found the most neutral point, it was Lucerys and Rhaena who sat across from them. The latter looked partially mortified, partially intrigued, and the former seemed like he was about to combust from amusement.

On the other end of the ballroom, on the platform, seated at the end of the shorter table, Otto Hightower watched the whole thing from his perch. His chest swelled with a sigh of exhaustion and growing impatience. He was getting too old for this shit.

“Seven bleeding Hells,” he muttered, loud enough to garner the attention of his daughter beside him.

“What is it?” Alicent asked in a low tone, her brow creased in concern.

Otto turned to her slowly, “Your fucking sons.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR SNEAK PEEK Slowly he turned around, his one eye peeking over at Luke over the bridge of his nose. His nephew was laughing; eyes squinting in a mischievous glint as he stared at Aemond, and then back at the roasted pig… And then onto Valeana, who was unaware of it all. Suddenly the table jostled, the bang of Aemond’s fist on the table immediately halted everyone’s chatter and movement, bringing their collective attention to his side of the table. Fisting his cup, Aemond ascended from his seat and extended his arm, his eye trained on his nephew in front of him. “Final tribute...”

Notes: F I N A L T R I B U TE Get ready for a whole chapter dedicated to fucking speeches XD Because by god... I'm never...I'm never gonna watch that episode again, I've seen it too many times to write this chapter and the FemAegon oneshot.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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dragonfire-hq · 11 days ago

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To the Lords and Ladies of the Allied Houses,

The tides of war shift once more. Word has reached me that Corwyn Velaryon, relentless in his pursuits, has successfully rallied his banners and reinstated the blockade of King’s Landing. This brazen act threatens not only the heart of the realm but also the stability we have fought tirelessly to preserve.

In light of this, I summon you, my loyal allies, to convene for another war council. Your wisdom and strength have been the cornerstone of our efforts thus far, and I have no doubt that together, we shall chart a path forward to counter this threat.

The council shall take place in the Great Hall of the Red Keep at the fortnight's end. Your presence is not only requested but required, for the decisions we make in the days to come shall shape the destiny of the Seven Kingdoms. Bring with you trusted advisors and any intelligence that may aid in our deliberations.

Our banners have stood united through the storm and attempted siege of Rooks Rest, and I trust in your continued loyalty as we face this renewed aggression. Let it be known that the Crown remembers the steadfastness of its allies and rewards those who stand firm in the face of treachery.

May the flames of our dragons light the way, and may the might of our alliance crush those who dare defy the Iron Throne.

In unity and strength, Visenya Targaryen Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm

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To the Esteemed Lords and Ladies of the True Cause,

The seas have proven once again to be our steadfast ally, for the blockade of King’s Landing stands renewed. Our naval might has choked the capital’s lifeblood once more, but let us not be content with half-measures. The next tide must be one of men and steel upon the soil of the Crownlands.

The time has come to press our advantage and secure a foothold upon the land, where the enemy's stronghold grows ever more vulnerable. Our fleet has done its part; now, the banners must rise, the blades must march, and the resolve of our cause must be unshakable.

To this end, I summon you to a war council at Driftmark in seven days’ time. There, we shall plan the next steps to claim what is rightfully ours and to ensure that the Iron Throne does not remain in the hands of those who would squander it. Victory is within our grasp, but it requires unity and decisive action.

Bring with you your captains, commanders, and the strength of your houses, for we shall lay the foundation for our next pursuit. Know that your courage thus far has not gone unnoticed. The tide turns in our favor, and soon we shall see the fruits of our labors ripen into triumph.

This war will not be won by hesitation but by boldness, as history favors the daring. Together, we shall not merely survive this conflict; we shall define it, and through it, we shall seize our destiny.

I await your arrival and your wisdom, as our cause marches ever closer to its ultimate victory.

In honor and resolve, Corwyn Velaryon The True King of The Seven Kingdoms

______________________________________________________________

DISCORD EVENT: JANUARY 30TH 2025 @ 7PM EST - FEBUARY 2ND 2025.

#dragonfire.event

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asongofgoldenfireandblackblood · 4 months ago

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Character Promo:

Corlys Velaryon — Lord of the Tides & Master of Coins @lordhusband — Part of A Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood

The eldest child of Lord Corwyn Velaryon and his Lady Wife, Lord Corlys is 71, the husband of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen-Velaryon, father of the late Ser Laenor and Lady Laena Velaryon, and currently, unexpectedly expecting another child with Princess Rhaenys, and the grandfather of Princes Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey and Princesses Baela and Rhaena, as well as a resolute mentor and ally to Queen Rhaenyra and her whole family. Hailed as the greatest seafarer the Seven Kingdoms had ever known, he has sailed farther north than any other and expanded the edges known-world more eastern than anyone, including as the first Westerosi to reach Asshai. Corlys is said to be as brilliant as he is restless, and as adventurous as he is ambitious, and well known for his lavish, but personal gifts, often adorned with treasures from far off shores. Though he has accomplished much, and more than most, in life, he is seldom satisfied. Corlys still longs for adventure, though he knows those days are behind him, as age has caught up to him. Corlys is known as wise in peace and valiant in war, but always infamous for his pride

home — navigate — wanted — discord — apply — directory — faq

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redmambajatiri · 6 months ago

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HIGH TIDE OF THE SEA SNAKE

King Corlys Velaryon son of Son of King Corwyn Velaryon and his Queen Consort Twila Ledford, husband to Princess Rhaenys Otherys. Father to Laeyla Velaryon heir to the Driftmark throne, married to Malak Valyrios, Leana Velaryon Queen of Cyrdonia, married to King Zaahir Qohalys, and Leanor Velaryon.

During his ninth voyage on Sea Snake, Corlys filled the ship's hold with gold and bought twenty more ships at Qarth, loading them with spices, elephants, and silk. Only fourteen ships reached Driftmark and all the elephants died, but Corlys became vastly wealthy from the venture.He took his nickname "Sea Snake" from his famous ship. Corlys's expeditions on the Sea Snake have been described by Maester Mathis in his book The Nine Voyages.

The heirs of House Velaryon live on their ancestral seat High tide until they ascend to the driftwood throne. As Laeyla is the heir her eldest daughter Daenyra Valyrios will inherit the throne, she will become the Queen of Sirenize and Redvers in the kingdom of Cyrdonia.

The same can be said for Laena as she is second in line for the driftwood throne, her daughter Saemara Qohalys will be the Queen of Cyrdonia and the kingdom of Damalis.

#black authors #black fanfiction #black oc #black!fem!reader #black reader #hotd fanfic #black!reader #hotd #hotd fandom #hotd x black!reader

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rxdianced · 22 days ago

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A letter for Alfador Stark @alfadorxstark, placed near his pillow but hidden by the covers of his bed:

______________________________________________________________

My Dearest Alf,

I write to you with a heart heavy with worry and an aching sense of loss for what our family once was. The Seven Kingdoms stand at the precipice of war, and though swords have yet to clash, the divisions run deep—carving through the land and our own blood. You, ever the resolute and even-tempered, have chosen your place by Queen Visenya’s side, a decision I respect, even as it pains me to see our family scattered to opposing winds.

You have always carried the weight of duty with a steadfastness I’ve admired since childhood. As the heir to Winterfell and her Hand, you bear the burden of both our family’s legacy and the realm’s governance, and I cannot imagine the strain that must place upon you, especially now. As I married the heir of Storm's End and have since been raised to act as its ruler following Tobas' death, your example and advise have been invaluable to me in ways I struggle to say.

Visenya has made grave missteps—her handling of Xaerys Velaryon’s tragic death foremost among them, and her leadership through the recent brutal winter left many to suffer unnecessarily. Yet still, you remain loyal, anchored to the belief that stability under her reign is preferable to the chaos that rebellion would bring. In this, I cannot fault your reasoning, for it is born of a wisdom that has long been your strength.

But, I must confess that I am deeply troubled. Our family is fracturing under the weight of this looming conflict. Lyanna and Erren have pledged themselves to Corwyn Velaryon’s cause, fueled by grief and a thirst for justice. Father, too, lends his voice to their cry. Alson stands as a shield for Vaelora, their loyalty unshakable even as they bear the title of Snow. And I... I am caught in the middle, longing for peace yet fearing the cost of silence.

My own children are not untouched by this. Orys remains by my side here in King’s Landing; as heir to Storm's End, he must stay close to the center of these unfolding events. Selyse, my youngest, is safe at Storm's End, protected from the turmoil for now. Enrick will be sent north to Winterfell, as I trust that even in the midst of political discord he will be safe among our family. They are all too young to carry the weight of these divisions. I look at them and wonder if the next generation will find a way to heal what we seem destined to break.

I find myself turning to you now, not for answers, but for understanding. Yours has always been the voice of reason, the steady hand that guided us through trials past. How do we mend what has already begun to crack? Is it even possible to salvage the ties of family when the fires of war threaten to consume all?

I do not question your choice to stand by Visenya, though I wish the Queen’s actions inspired more trust in those she rules. Vaelora’s ascension brings a glimmer of hope, but it is faint against the storm that looms. Do you see it too, Alf? Is there a chance for unity amidst this discord, or is it already too late?

The dreams that have plagued me since childhood are worsening these days too. They steal my sleep and leave me lying in my bed, paralyzed with grief for events that have yet to unfold that I can't make, nor wish to make, any sense of.

I write to you as a way to understand. In this eternal night I find that putting my pen to paper, talking to you though I know your duties keep you busy and unavailable even now, helps me see my situation more clearly. Your words have always been a balm to my fears, and I need them now more than ever. The thought of losing you—not to death, but to this chasm of ideology and anger—is unbearable. Let us find a way to keep the bond of our family intact, even as the world around us threatens to unravel.

Ever your sister, Eira

#eira ft alfador #letters: eira

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dragonfire-hqpromo · 7 days ago

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DRAGONFIRE-HQ > canon - divergent , beginner - friendly , house of the dragon inspired tumblr role play. set two - hundred years following the dance of the dragons.

navigation. plotline. great houses. masterlist. application.

QUEEN VISENYA TARGARYEN II RULES A FRACTURED REALM FROM THE IRON THRONE, her once-stable reign now shaken by tragedy and dissent. The death of her eldest son and heir, Prince Maegor, has left her grief-stricken and forced her to name her eldest daughter as her successor—a controversial decision that has deepened the kingdom’s unrest. The realm, already suffering from the aftermath of a long winter and economic mismanagement, grows increasingly dissatisfied with the crown. Her king consort, Daeron Celtigar, lends the weight of his house’s wealth and loyalty, but his influence is met with suspicion. Meanwhile, the Velaryons, long simmering with resentment after being passed over for the throne decades ago, sense an opportunity to press their claims.

As alliances form in secret and the great houses debate their loyalties, rebellion looms on the horizon. Lord Corwyn Velaryon gathers his forces at Driftmark, determined to restore his house’s influence over the Iron Throne. The queen, though resolute, faces mounting pressures from both within her court and beyond the Red Keep’s walls. Dragons, the enduring symbols of Targaryen power, remain her strongest weapon, but even their fire cannot mend the rift between her family and the Velaryons per the Dragon Treaty. As whispers of rebellion spread across the Seven Kingdoms, Visenya’s reign teeters on the brink, and the question of whether fire and blood can hold the realm together grows ever more uncertain.

[ + application for knights added ]

#oc rp #appless rp #hotd rp #asoiaf rp #tumblr rp #rp #literate rp #got rp #mature rp

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lionspawfic · 7 months ago

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Velaryon Family: Part 2

Zaira Alexa, Last Lady of Sarnor and Wife of Corwyn Velaryon

The next lady of the Driftmark came from similarly exalted though fallen ancestry as the Princess, for her children had been raised by two parents who had self-assured pride that never wavered. Princess Amari met her match though in Lady Zaira Alexa, descended from displaced Sarnori nobility, and according to her own words, the great-great-granddaughter of the last High King, Mazor Alexi.

The truth of this claim has never been found given the destruction the Kingdom of Sarnor during the Century of Blood, but it cannot be denied that Lady Zaira carried herself with the haughtiness of a descendant of royalty and remained unbending in the face of any criticism, no matter how well deserved. Where Princess Amari was well remembered for her intelligence and personability, the Lady Zaira was most often characterized by fierce pride and ambition, traits she passed on to her children.

The Lady Zaira traced her roots back to the Sarnori settlement of Saath, which was the only such settlement to survive the doom. Early on her family left the city though for richer prospects and eventually settled in Braavos after leaving Lorath in her grandmother's time. Here her family found foothold in the politics of the city. Her father achieved the title of Magister and her eldest brother was elected to the position of Sealord of Braavos.

It was during the celebration of this event, an elaborate one that invited the whole city to partake that Lady Zaira first came in contact with Lord Corwyn Velaryon, no longer a young man, but unwed and not yet having succeeded his father. He was visiting the city on some business. The two formed an immediate and deep attraction to each other despite the fifteen years difference between them.

Lord Corwyn showered her in gifts and Lady Zaira declared she would have him or no other, if the legends are to be believed, threatening to slit her throat with a Bravos blade when her father sought to deny her and acceded only when a promise of a marriage was given. The Lady Zaira left Braavos with him, married and pregnant with her first child after only a month's acquaintance.

The exact details of the first introduction of Lady Zaira and her new family are not recorded but the results were undeniable. She and the Princess Amari remained at odds in every turn. Their arguments remain famous.

The roots of the discord can no doubt be traced to two sources.

Lady Zaira's attitude was chief among them, according to her detractors. She often came off as cool and condescending to others, which would not sit well with a woman of equal pride and standing. She was also slow to adjust to Westeros and knew little of the Common Tongue even until her last days. She had little patience and a hot temper when provoked. For all these faults, she was known to be very protective of those she loved and a doting and loving mother and wife.

The second concern was the arrival of Lord Corwyn with his beautiful bride of seven and ten broke a long-standing betrothal that the Princess Amari had arranged...

It was said Lady Zaira welcomed Princess Rhaenys with great warmth finding in her a woman well-suited to her most favored son and a Princess and assumed heiress of the Seven Kingdoms. It can be assumed that in this connection she saw the resurrection of her own family's exalted past. Her ancestors had once been kings and queens and they would be again.

The day of their wedding it was said that all could see the beauty that had led Lord Corwyn to his deep obsessive love of his wife. The Lady Zaira was said to have smiled more that day that any other save the birth of her children. She is known to have even kissed the cheeks of Princess Amari, calling her "mother" and speaking long hours with her most well-known rival for influence. The hours filled with laughter and good cheer form all who witnessed it, all enmity but aside.

Alas triumph is often entwined with tragedy. At the zenith of her House's standing, Princess Amari fell ill with a plague brought in by a careless trading ship. Many fell ill during the summer plague, including her youngest daughter, who was left blinded by the fever.

Lady Zaira by all accounts attended faithfully to Princess Amari. It was she who recognized the disease and sent all healthy members of the family away in the hopes of containing the disease. It is largely agree the women reconciled during this time, though the words spoken between them were never recorded as it was spoken in Princess Amari's own native tongue that her gooddaughter had learned to argue with her. Lady Zaira's care, though soon, resulted in her own illness and with how much energy she she had spent on others left little remaining for her own fight.

Lady Zaira died from the fever, leaving her husband inconsolable and to die not long after leaving his eldest son as heir to the Driftwood Throne. After her death the Princess Amari, who once fiercely argued for their marriage to be ended and Lady Zaira to be sent back to Braavos, never again tolerated an ill word about her good-daughter within her presence.

Women of the Tides by Maester Aurion

Divider created by @zaldritzosrose

#house of the dragon #velaryon oc #hotd oc

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ofnobilites · 21 days ago

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closed starter: vaelora targaryen @crcwninferncs

Killing was easy. Too easy. He'd been trained for this, he'd been raised for this. Watching his enemies fall was the reason he held Dawn. Fight for what you believe in and stand for what's right. It was his oath as a knight, his oath to his family. At first it bothered him. That he was so good at killing, that it didn't bother him to take the lie of another who was standing for what they believed in or for whatever caused them to pick up a sword. Standing in the middle of the battle there were too many bodies around him already. Enough blood on his sword and his hands that if death bothered him anymore he'd never forgive himself. But he turned his mind off, he was hyper focused, Dawn moving as an extension of his own body. He should be proud of himself, he was the living blade just as his parents wanted. Dawn cut through another as if it was nothing. Breath caught in his throat as they stared at each other. Ricasso Drinkwater. A Dornishman he knew well, they'd trained together as teenagers, they'd shared meals as adults. Nymor had given a speech at his wedding. His hands shook as his former friends blood covered his hands, a cough and blood covered his face. Breathing grew harder as he stood there, Ricasso's body falling from his sword and collapsing. He was dead. He was dead and it was his blade covered in blood. His hands, his face, his body. How many of his friends had he killed? How much Dornish blood was on his hands. Stepping back Nymor looked around, he couldn't see straight, the words from Ashara's letter, from Obella's letter were all he could see. His parents voices echoing in his ears alongside the screams, now he was hearing them all and his mind told him he knew them. Every body Nymor's mind told him he knew them, he knew them and he'd killed them. Turning his eyes caught a head of blonde hair, Princess Vaelora Targaryen. Ashara. Olyver. Obella. Ricasso. Dorne. All of it was because of the Queen. All of it was because of their mother. If he killed them would it stop? Would it feel better to spill Targaryen blood like he was told? Nymor would find out, he'd be the hero for House Velaryon. It was almost slow motion as he walked towards them, his grip on Dawn tight as he readied himself to land the blow that everyone on the Velaryon side wanted. "Vaelora Targaryen!" Surprised by his own voice he raised his sword, he'd do it. He'd be the hero his parents wanted. That Corwyn Velaryon wanted. Killing them would be easy. He was the Sword of the Morning. People from all over Westeros knew his name. Nymor Dayne. Ashara. Olyver. Obella. Ricasso. Dorne.... Stelsa. Nymor swung, teeth bared and breathing heavy as he readied the killing blow that would make him the legend. Killing was easy, killing was his life. He was the one who would kill them. A dragon rider. Nymor would make history again. His sword never made contact. Dawn hit the ground in front of her as he knelt in front of her. The battle raging around them, tears and blood mixing in his eyes. "I Nymor Dayne pledge my sword and my life to you, Princess Vaelora Targaryen. The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. A warrior, a person who will have my loyalty should they allow it."

#c: vaelora #interactions | nymor

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godseyess · 14 days ago

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elyana had long wondered what her life would be like had she never chosen lucias. had she just stuck to what had been decided for her, and married rohan. would they have been happy? certainly happier than they were now, right? or would their families' hatred eventually have consumed them, and turned their union bitter? there is no way to know.

but she hadn't chosen him, and there is nothing she can do to change that.

she still wonders why he hasn't married yet. he may not be the ruling lord, but it is still important that he marry. continue on the bracken line, should his sister never marry or have children of her own. but what would she do if he did? would their arrangement change?

"gods forbid i try to make conversation with you," she scoffs, rolling her eyes and leaning away. she might as well just leave. what if her absence is noticed, especially by the queen? would she be named a traitor?

"because the targaryens have ruled over the kingdoms since aegon the first's time and while i may not always agree with what queen visenya has done, she's held us together. and vaelora... vaelora will be an even greater queen after her. certainly better a ruler than corwyn velaryon, of that i am quite certain."

he expects her combativeness, of course, he does. they've danced this dance before after all and it's in small moments like these as he finds himself predicting her next move before she makes it and almost sighing in unison with her that he's caught with a deep sense of longing for what they could have been had she chosen differently. much remained unspoken between them and the gods knew he hardly understood every decision she made but he was enthralled by her all the same. he found himself unable to hate her for even the things she did to spite him. he had never been the most vehement in his hatred for her family, but their betrothal had changed him profoundly. he'd found himself against all reason caring for the girl. but it was easier to say they only met in the dead of night out of shared lust, and passion. perhaps the thrill of the forbidden. not love. never love. this too was part of their dance.

he ought to have known they couldn't go on like this oblivious to the rest of the world forever. the birth of her child had been his first wake up call and then the death of her husband. and yet they hadn't come to reason then. he knew his reasons well enough. selfishness and a hope to be chosen, a hope that she time and time again proved to be futile. and now life had put another obstacle in their way as if the universe was telling them that now was the time to face reality. a war would soon rage in westeros and they had chosen a side. he knew where his duty lay. his family was always his first priority and he couldn't turn their back on them. not even for her. why should he? this wasn't a tale of love after all. he needed to keep reminding himself of that.

as elyana visibly searched for the right words, her hesitation showing only for a mere moment, he crossed his arms defensively as the gravity of the situation caught up to him. it wasn't just about locations and logistics. soon they'd both run the very real risk of harm. there were always casualties in a war and as they were not even friends, there'd be no way for him to know if something happened to her. he could not write her, could certainly not chance writing her family as they would sooner burn a bracken missive than open it. this meeting she had arranged in haste could very well be the last time they saw each other face to face in a very long time. he scoffs "it's an island, ely. a large island but an island nonetheless. nothing much to tell about it." he couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice. when she spoke and scolded him about his allegiance in this war he laughed then. leave it to elyana to seize any opportunity to tell him how wrong he was. "do we? just this time i'll bite. why have i chosen wrong in siding with the velaryons?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

#⌗ rohan ⁝ ( ⤖ )#⌗ convos ⁝ 𝐜𝐨𝐧��𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐫. ( ⤖ )

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krabbu · 4 years ago

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My first set of commissions! Thank you so much to everyone who commissioned me, i had a lot of fun drawing your dragons! These cool dudes are as follows:

@dire-vulture ‘s free-spirited wildclaw, Inermis! She might not have the claw but she sure do got the wild! Inermis loves collecting feathers and celebrating the wind festivals!

@xiphosuras ‘s tundra knight, Corwyn. He guards a grove of shade-touched roses. Intially, he seems pretty stern, but he’s actually an ok dude once you get to know him. Corwyn DOES keep the frozen remains of his enemies as decorations in his garden, so like, be prepared for that.

@kayamari ‘s lovely spiral, Elenolic. She is the former princess of a fallen kingdom, currently searching for her blood-related family members. Let’s wish this battlin’ princess good luck!!

#fr fanrt friday #fr fanart #flight rising #flightrising #frfanart friday #spiral #tundra #wildclaw #commission #commissions #FR fanart friday

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chispas-and-broken-bindings · 3 years ago

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from the next chapter of nothing sacred, all things wild:

Jon had wondered what it would take to see his cousin’s passion unleashed. Now he knew, and he found himself quite regretting the experience. Sansa’s anger was expected, of course. There had been no doubt in his mind that she would be furious over his subterfuge regarding Robb, and when she billowed across the courtyard, her hair wild, in naught but a dressing gown, part of him thrilled at the sight. Finally, he thought, no more feigning indifference. He expected anger, welcomed it even, for once released, it was an emotion quickly spent. Once released, there would be room for new feelings to grow. But then, her face loomed before him, all color leaching from her cheeks, her eyes blank with terror, and the ground tilted beneath his feet.

Even now, as he rose from the bath, the memory of her desperate tears cut him far deeper than her sewing scissors had. For a few heartbreaking moments the fear had overtaken her wrath, and Jon’s own blood had pounded in his temple, stealing the breath from his lungs.

He had misjudged Sansa’s feelings for him, quite terribly. He could handle her anger. It was a dreadful blow to find her afraid of him as well.

And yet...threatened at spearpoint, Sansa Stark had stood her ground.

Jon inspected the small mark at his chest, where she had stabbed him. It was just a scratch, though it had drawn momentary blood. She had flinched upon piercing his skin, and Jon felt certain his cousin had never taken up arms against anyone in her life. Foolish woman, starting with a king.

A knock at the door roused him, and he hurriedly donned a shirt. “Come in.”

Corwyn entered, head bowed. “The lady and the young lord are settled, your Grace, and extra men have been posted at every hallway and door.”

“And Daenerys?”

“My men tell me she has retired to her quarters.”

Jon nodded, donning a simple, dark jacket. “I have business in the city the rest of the morning, and no, I don’t need an escort.” He did not wish to be seen, and Corwyn had learned not to push him on the matter. Jon was plain enough to pass unnoticed when he wanted to, and dangerous enough to handle the occasional drunkard or cutpurse on his own. “If Dany wishes to entertain guests, she can do so from the maidenvault. There are to be no visitors to Maegor’s holdfast except under Lady Stark’s express invitation.”

“And must that invitation extend to yourself?” Corwyn turned toward the window, hiding his expression, and it took Jon another moment to understand the captain’s meaning.

“Are you asking whether or not you should bar me from entering my own castle?”

“Forgive my boldness, your Grace, but I’d wager that you’d be the last person Lady Stark would allow in, if given the power to deny you.”

Jon sighed, rubbing at the scar across his brow. “I’m not fool enough to take you up on that bet, and I also do not fancy sleeping in the stable. I admit that I do not know how to reach her, Corwyn. You’re a married man. How do I make the lady see that I am not her enemy when she leaves me no opening and gives no quarter?”

The captain of his guard laughed, crossing his arms as he appraised Jon. “I watched you cut your teeth on the battlefield, your grace,” Corwyn said, “and I wager there are few that could match you when it comes to war strategy...but your first mistake may be using military tactics on the would-be object of your affection. You are dealing with a woman, not a sparring partner.”

Military tactics? He’d handed her his bloody heart. “I don’t understand what you mean. I’ve shown the lady every courtesy.”

“You forced her to concede the high ground, and then flush her out into the open every time she finds new cover. You lay constant siege against her, assaulting each wall she constructs. Now you’ve taken her son hostage. How could she view that as anything but an act of war?”

When he put it that way…

“I only thought to bring him to his mother’s side. When I wrote, the Lady Waynwood agreed that it would be best.”

“Then why did you not tell the mother?”

Jon had no ready answer— at least nothing that would appease a man like Corwyn who was brave, honorable, and honest to a fault. He would not admit to waging war against his cousin— that was a step too far.

But had he approached it like a game of cyvasse? Perhaps.

Intuition had driven Jon to call the child down from his mountain stronghold, and intuition held his tongue each time he could have told Sansa. He had tried to be direct, and been met with resounding silence. It was she who placed the screen between them, and she who first placed the pieces on the board. What other recourse did Jon have, than to play his dragon?

“I do not know how else to make my intentions clear.”

“At this point, only a fool would mistake your intentions. The lady does not wish to be wooed and with every advance, you only push her further away.”

“Then what do you propose I do?”

“Leave the poor woman be, and find another quarry.”

Jon closed his eyes, and Sansa’s tear-streaked face swam before his lids.

This had ceased to be a game to her— if it ever had been.

When you were young you used to plead with me to play your silly games.

Corwyn was correct that Jon’s attempts to reach her were only widening the gulf between them, but it made little sense. How could she believe he’d ever hurt her? He’d let his kingdom burn first. Once, she had known that— when they were young. When they were young, they were wolves.

Were they not still?

#wip wednesday #jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #nothing sacred all things wild #my fic #jonsa ff #jonsa fic #i'm so busy right now #but i just want to stress write fanfic all day

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dragonfire-hq · 1 month ago

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To the Lords and Ladies of the Realm,

By the grace of the Seven and the blood of Old Valyria, I, Visenya of House Targaryen, write to you in a time of great peril and grave offense against the Crown. It has come to my attention, as it surely has to yours, that House Velaryon, once a loyal and steadfast ally, has brazenly chosen to blockade the Narrow Sea. This act is not merely a disruption of trade nor a display of dissent—it is treason, a defiance of the Crown’s authority, and an affront to the unity of our realm. By cutting off vital supplies and restricting passage, the Velaryons have turned their sails against their sworn duty and brought hardship to those they are bound to protect.

This betrayal strikes at the heart of our kingdom. House Velaryon’s actions threaten not only the prosperity of the Crownlands but also the stability of the entire realm. Their treachery cannot, and will not, be ignored.

As Queen and protector of the realm, it is my sworn duty to respond decisively. To this end, I call upon all loyal lords and bannermen to convene for a War Council at The Red Keep. This council shall serve to address the betrayal at hand, coordinate our response, and ensure that justice is served swiftly and without mercy.

Let it be known: the Crown will not falter. We will not tolerate rebellion, nor will we bow to the threats of those who mistake our mercy for weakness. I remind all who read these words of the oaths sworn to House Targaryen—oaths of loyalty, of fealty, and of unwavering allegiance. Any who align themselves with House Velaryon in their treachery will face the same wrath that is to befall them.

Bring your wisdom, your strength, and your banners to King's Landing. Together, we shall defend the honor of the realm, restore order, and remind the traitors of the unyielding fire and fury of House Targaryen.

In unity and strength, Visenya Targaryen Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm ______________________________________________________________ To the Lords and Ladies of Westeros,

I, Corwyn of House Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark and Master of the Narrow Sea, address you not in treachery but in truth. The Crown would have you believe that our blockade of the Narrow Sea is a mere act of rebellion, but I write to expose the rot at the heart of Visenya Targaryen’s reign—a rot that threatens to consume the realm itself.

My son, Xaerys Velaryon, was murdered—a grievous act of kinslaying committed by none other than those who share the blood of Old Valyria. Kinslaying is a crime that curses not only the perpetrator but the lands they claim to rule. The Crown has neither acknowledged its guilt nor sought to make amends for this heinous act. Instead, it seeks to silence us with accusations of treason. Shall we, the stewards of the realm's seas, remain silent while the blood of our kin stains the Iron Throne?

Beyond this personal affront lies the greater failure of Visenya’s reign. The realm suffers under her rule, plagued by famine and instability. Fields lie fallow, granaries are empty, and the smallfolk starve. The Queen sits idle, her throne propped up by dragons and vanity, while the land withers beneath her. Is this the leadership worthy of the Seven Kingdoms?

Let it not be forgotten that my blood, too, is of Valyria. The Velaryons have long been the shield and sail of this realm, our ships its lifeline, our loyalty its anchor. My claim to the Iron Throne is as rightful as any—borne of ancient bloodlines, duty, and a vision for a realm united under just and prosperous rule. A realm where the burdens of leadership are borne with strength and wisdom, not with cruelty and negligence.

The blockade is not an act of rebellion; it is a declaration of necessity. The Narrow Sea is the realm’s artery, and we control its flow. Until the Crown addresses the murder of Xaerys Velaryon, recognizes the plight of its people, and acknowledges the legitimacy of my claim, I will not yield. Let the realm know: this is not a war of ambition, but of justice, survival, and honor.

I call upon the noble houses of Westeros to consider the truths I have laid bare. To stand by a queen who allows famine to fester, who casts aside kinship, and who ignores the oaths sworn to her people is to condone the decay of the realm. Join me to convene a War Council at Driftmark, and together we shall rebuild a kingdom where prosperity thrives, justice reigns, and the Iron Throne is held by one who truly deserves it.

In honor and resolve, Corwyn Velaryon Lord of Driftmark, Master of the Seas. ______________________________________________________________ DISCORD EVENT: JANUARY 10TH 2024 @ 9PM EST.

#dragonfire.event #oc rp #appless rp #hotd rp #tw: death

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dragonmartellstark · 4 years ago

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Viserra Velaryon: She was the first daughter of Lucerys and Rhaena Targaryen, as well as being the most scandalous granddaughter of Queen Rhaenyra I.

She was engaged to Lord Royce Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, but she Viserra was an ambitious young woman and she considered Lord Royce little to the granddaughter of a queen refusing marriage. Viserra wished to marry her cousin, Aerion Targaryen, who was second in line to be queen, but her father denied him this as punishment for publicly humiliating Lord Royce Baratheon. In the end Aerion married her other cousin, Jaena, with whom he had a good marriage.

The marriage between her sister and her cousin was a tragedy for Viserra because she considered herself more beautiful, friendly and smart than Jaena. Despite this she tried to become the lover of the prince thus seeking her crown, even entering her rooms completely naked of her, but Aerion disowned her. This event was the talk of the court and Viserra was compared to Princess Viserra Targaryen, the daughter of Jaehaerys I and one of the most beautiful young women of her time.

Viserra Velaryon died unexpectedly at the age of 21, supposedly from tuberculosis, but according to her teachers, her sister Jaena would have poisoned her so that she would leave her husband alone.

Ala Velaryon: she was she Mistress of Storm's End by marrying Royce Baratheon and to whom she bore two sons, Rober and Borros Baratheon.

After her older sister Viserra rejected and humiliated Royce Baratheon, her father, Lucerys publicly apologized to him and offered her daughter Ala as a wife to whom Lord Royce agreed to marry. Ala married Lord Royce in 151 a. C. She, despite not being very pretty, stood out for her cheekbones, her big eyes and her breasts.

The couple was stable despite the fact that Royce had some lovers, but Lady Ala turned a blind eye and was dedicated to her only two children, in addition to seeking advantageous marriages for them. In 175 Royce Baratheon passed away from a strange disease in her intimate parts and Ala stayed away from the public eye, she dressed in mourning until her last days and only dedicated herself to reading or taking care of her grandchildren.

Ala Velaryon passed away in early 200 a. C., at 65 years of a heart attack and she asked to be buried next to her mother in Marcaderiva.

Sons:

-Rober Baratheon was Lord of Storm's End. He married a woman from House Tarth who bore him four children.

-Borros Baratheon was a squire to King Jacaerys I and married Tya Lannister with whom he had three children.

Jaena Velaryon: She was queen of the Seven Kingdoms by marrying Aerion I Targaryen to whom she bore five children.

She was chosen by her cousin to be her wife when she was a 14-year-old girl, this decision angered her older sister, Viserra, who wished to marry Aerion.

Jaena and Aerion married being a happy marriage, in addition to having many things in common such as the love of gambling or taking on dragons. Viserra Velaryon tried to become her cousin's lover on several occasions, but Aerion refused to give in and considered her a prostitute, in addition to creating a great rivalry between the sisters for the prince's affection, Jaena always having her attention. In the end, her sister Viserra passed away unexpectedly in 155 a. C., creating the rumor that Jaena poisoned her so that she would stop intervening in her marriage.

The couple had many tense moments, but one of them was when their two young children, Valerion and Aegon, passed away during their childhood, creating an inheritance problem. Her husband ended up getting involved with Lady Floris Baratheon who, being an older woman, gave him a son, Aerion Mares, and this was humiliating for Jaena. In the end, her father-in-law and uncle, Jacaerys I, warned her son that her only heir is his daughter, Rhaenyra, and to disown his lover.

In the end the couple reconciled by returning to a normal married life. After the rebellion of Aenar Targaryen this and his uncle Jacaerys signed an alliance where Aenar would be king if he married Princess Rhaenyra and both reigned jointly. This was not to Jaena's liking thinking that her cousin could hurt her daughter and take her throne so she taught her daughter to be strong willed, intelligent and passionate.

Aerion and Jaena became kings of the Seven Kingdoms in 179 a. C., the queen was considered a calm, loyal and maternal woman being well regarded by her contemporaries. In 191 a. C., her husband died after a long illness and this death hurt Jaena so much that she decided to take refuge in a convent where she would cry and pray for the eternal rest of her husband. For 8 years Jaena lived in unfavorable conditions and did not eat regularly, losing much of her charm and health. In the end the queen she ended up dying at age 60 due to the terrible conditions that she was undergoing.

Esteban Velaryon: He was the founder of the Valeryon House, a cadet house of the Velaryon.

Like his father Lucerys, he was a suitor to the Lordship of Driftmark, but due to his father's supposed bastard origins and the legitimization of Addam and Alyn Velaryon, it was impossible to achieve the position. Esteban sought to fulfill the wishes of his father, but it was impossible for him to achieve this and he decided to found his own royal house, "Valeryon" in a nearby domain that was given to him by Addam Velaryon.

Esteban had many lovers, but it is known that he was the favorite of Ellyn Baratheon who was almost 25 years older than his and gave him some sums of money in exchange for pleasure. Lord Valeryon had a passionate affair with her aunt Visenya Targaryen, after she became the widow of Donnel Arryn. In the end the lovers married with the permission of Jacaerys I and had a passionate, happy and fertile marriage, eventually having seven living children.

Esteban was found dead in strange circumstances around the year 194 at the age of 54, his body had been found in the sea by his son, Aemon.

Sons:

-Mihirima Valeryon, third wife of his uncle, Joffrey Velaryon.

-Aemon Valeryon, was head of House Valeryon when his father died. He married her cousin, Daenys Velaryon, daughter of Addam Velaryon and had three children with her.

-Rhaenyra Valeryon, was the wife of Garmund Hightower and they had five children.

-Baelon Valeryon, Master in the Citadel.

-Visella Valeryon, Septa.

-Rhaena Valeryon, was the wife of Prince Maekar Targaryen, son of Rhaenyra II Targaryen.

-Vaegon Valeryon, member of the Gold Cloaks and four bastard sons.

Corwyn Velaryon: He was a sworn Brother of the Royal Guard and it is believed that he was also a sorcerer who was involved in the murder of his brother Esteban or that of the Lord Commander of the Royal Guard, Robert Flowers.

He passed away at the age of 40 from strange stomach problems. He was supposedly poisoned by his sins.

Marya Velaryon: she was engaged to her brother Corwyn hers, but the princess contracted winter fever and passed away from it at the age of 11. Her death killed her mother, Rhaena Targaryen who had already suffered with the death of her little brother.

Aegon Velaryon: He was a small and fragile baby who passed away in his first year.

Viserra Velaryon: Fue la primer hija de Lucerys y Rhaena Targaryen, además de ser la nieta mas escandalosa de la reina Rhaenyra I.

Estaba comprometida con Lord Royce Baratheon, Señor de Bastión de Tormenta, pero Viserra era una joven ambiciosa y consideraba a Lord Royce poca cosa para la nieta de una reina negándose al matrimonio. Viserra deseaba casarse con su primo, Aerion Targaryen que era el segundo en la linea de sucesión y así poder ser reina, pero su padre le negó esto como castigo por humillar públicamente a Lord Royce Baratheon. Al final Aerion se caso con su otra prima, Jaena con la cual tuvo un buen matrimonio.

El casamiento entre su hermana y su primo fue una tragedia para Viserra debido a que se consideraba mas hermosa, simpática y lista que Jaena. Pesé a esto ella trato de convertirse en la amante del príncipe buscando de ese modo su corona, incluso entrando en sus habitaciones completamente desnuda, pero Aerion la repudió. Este acontecimiento fue la comidilla de la corte y Viserra fue comparada con la princesa Viserra Targaryen, la hija de Jaehaerys I y una de las jóvenes mas hermosas de su tiempo.

Viserra Velaryon falleció inesperadamente a los 21 años de edad supuestamente de tuberculosis, pero según los maestres, su hermana Jaena la habría envenenado para que así dejara en paz a su marido.

Ala Velaryon: Fue Señora de Bastión de Tormenta al casarse con Royce Baratheon y al cual le dio dos hijos varones, Rober y Borros Baratheon.

Tras que su hermana mayor, Viserra rechazara y humillara a Royce Baratheon, su padre, Lucerys se disculpo públicamente con el y le ofreció a su hija, Ala como esposa a lo que Lord Royce acepto casarse. Ala se caso con Lord Royce en 151 d. C., pese a no ser muy agraciada destacaba por sus pómulos, sus grandes ojos y pechos.

La pareja fue estable pese a que Royce tenía algunas amantes, pero Lady Ala hacia la vista gorda y se dedicaba a sus dos únicos hijos, además de buscarles ventajosos matrimonios. En 175 falleció Royce Baratheon por una extraña enfermedad en sus partes intimas y Ala se mantuvo lejos del ojo publico, vistió de luto hasta sus últimos días y solo se dedico a leer o cuidar de sus nietos.

Ala Velaryon falleció a principios del 200 d. C., a los 65 años de un ataque al corazón y pidió ser enterrada junto a su madre en Marcaderiva.

Hijos:

-Rober Baratheon fue Señor de Bastión de Tormenta. Se caso con una mujer de la Casa Tarth la cual le dio cuatro hijos.

-Borros Baratheon fue escudero del rey Jacaerys I y se caso con Tya Lannister con la cual tuvo tres hijos.

Jaena Velaryon: Fue reina de los Siete Reinos al casarse con Aerion I Targaryen al cual le dio cinco hijos.

Fue elegida por su primo para ser su esposa cuando era una niña de 14 años, esta decisión enfureció a su hermana mayor, Viserra la cual deseaba desposarse con Aerion.

Jaena y Aerion se casaron siendo un matrimonio feliz, además de tener muchas cosas en común como el amor a los juegos de azar o a tomar en dragones. Viserra Velaryon trato de convertirse en la amante de su primo en varias ocasiones, pero Aerion se negaba a ceder y la considero una meretriz, además de crearse una gran rivalidad entre las hermanas por el cariño del principe siendo siempre Jaena la que tenia su atención. Al final su hermana Viserra falleció inesperadamente en 155 d. C., creándose el rumor de que Jaena la enveneno para así que dejara de intervenir en su matrimonio.

La pareja tuvo numerosos momentos tensos, pero uno de ellos fue cuando sus dos hijos pequeños, Valerion y Aegon fallecieron durante su infancia creándose un problema sucesorio. Su marido se acabo involucrando con Lady Floris Baratheon la cual siendo una mujer ya algo mayor, le dio un hijo varón, Aerion Mares y esto fue humillante para Jaena. Al final su suegro y tío, Jacaerys I le advirtió a su hijo que su única heredera es su hija, Rhaenyra y que repudiara a su amante.

Al final la pareja se reconcilió volviendo a una vida conyugal normal. Tras la rebelión de Aenar Targaryen este y su tío Jacaerys firmaron una alianza donde Aenar sería rey si se casaba con la princesa Rhaenyra y ambos reinaban conjuntamente. Esto no fue del agrado de Jaena pensando que su primo podría lastimar a su hija y quedarse con su trono por lo que enseño a su hija a ser de voluntad fuerte, inteligente y pasional.

Aerion y Jaena se convirtieron en reyes de los Siete Reinos en 179 d. C., la reina fue considerada una mujer tranquila, leal y maternal siendo bien vista por sus contemporáneos. En 191 d. C., falleció su marido tras una larga enfermedad y esta muerte dolió mucho a Jaena que decidió refugiarse en un convento donde lloraría y rezaría por el descanso eterno de su marido. Durante 8 años Jaena vivió en condiciones poco favorables y no comía con regularidad perdiendo gran parte de su encanto y salud. Al final la reina acabo falleciendo a los 60 años por las pésimas condiciones que estaba sometiéndose.

Esteban Velaryon: Fue fundador de la Casa Valeryon, una casa cadete de los Velaryon.

Al igual que su padre, Lucerys, fue un pretendiente al Señorío de Marcaderiva, pero debido a los supuestos orígenes bastardos de su padre y la legitimización de Addam y Alyn Velaryon, era imposible alcanzar el puesto. Esteban busco cumplir los deseos de su padre, pero le fue imposible lograr esto y decidió fundar su propia casa real, “Valeryon” en unos dominios cercanos que le fueron entregados por Addam Velaryon.

Esteban tuvo muchas amantes, pero se sabe que fue el favorito de Ellyn Baratheon que era casi 25 años mayor que el y le daba algunas sumas de dinero a cambio de placer. Lord Valeryon tuvo un apasionado romance con su tía Visenya Targaryen, luego de que esta enviudara de Donnel Arryn. Al final los amantes se casaron con el permiso de Jacaerys I y tuvieron un matrimonio apasionado, feliz y fértil llegando a tener siete hijos vivos.

Esteban fue encontrado muerto en extrañas circunstancias por el año 194 con 54 años, su cuerpo había sido encontrado en el mar por su hijo, Aemon.

Hijos:

-Mihirima Valeryon, tercera esposa de su tío, Joffrey Velaryon.

-Aemon Valeryon, fue cabeza de la Casa Valeryon al morir su padre. Se caso con su prima, Daenys Velaryon, hija de Addam Velaryon y con ella tuvo tres hijos.

-Rhaenyra Valeryon, fue esposa de Garmund Hightower y tuvieron cinco hijos.

-Baelon Valeryon, maestre en la Ciudadela.

-Visella Valeryon, septa.

-Rhaena Valeryon, fue esposa del príncipe Maekar Targaryen, hijo de Rhaenyra II Targaryen.

-Vaegon Valeryon, miembro de las Capas Doradas y cuatro hijos bastardos.

Corwyn Velaryon: Fue Hermano juramentado de la Guardia Real y se cree que también fue un hechicero que estuvo involucrado en el asesinato de su hermano Esteban o el del Lord Comandante de la Guardia Real, Robert Flowers.

Falleció a los 40 años de edad por extraños problemas en el estómagos supuestamente fue envenenado por sus pecados.

Marya Velaryon: Fue comprometida con su hermano Corwyn, pero la princesa contrajo fiebre invernal y falleció de esta a los 11 años de edad. Su muerte mato a su madre, Rhaena Targaryen que ya había sufrido con la muerte de su hermano pequeño.

Aegon Velaryon: Era un bebé pequeño y fragil que falleció al cumplir su primer año.

#rhaena of pentos #lucerys velaryon #house velaryon #house valeryon

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galacticlamps · 3 years ago

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totally no pressure haha but I'm super intrigued by the fantasy au you mentioned if you'd be interested in talking about it o:

Oh yeah, totally!

This AU mostly exists as miscellaneous notes, so I'll try to summarize those:

I haven’t worked out all the world-building, but it’s probably easiest to think of the setting as something akin to Arthurian Britain, maybe? It’s been a while since I’ve read up on that, but it’s definitely full of lots of smallish kingdoms & the issues/plot points that come from those, on top of the occasional supernatural/mythical elements you find in any good legend.

Throughout his childhood & before he's even born, Jamie's family is involved in a series of civil wars & rebellions between neighboring kingdoms & clans. The final decisive battle is bloody and tragic, but they do win, even though the leader of their cause, Colin McLaren, is mortally wounded. The other victorious chieftains elect Donald McCrimmon to take his crown when he passes, making Jamie an/the heir to the throne (I'm pretty sure Alexander is Jamie's older brother in this, and he still dies, but I'm not sure if that’s in the conflict or later when they're adults). Jamie's probably only about 7 or 8 when this happens and peace is restored, and when his mother gives birth to another child, a daughter, they name her Victoria in honor of their success in the battle. Now that they're the rulers of the kingdom, Victoria gets brought up as a lady of the court from the beginning, educated by foreign scholars and even taught to speak in the dialect considered more proper in the neighboring kingdoms' courts, although the rest of her family are very whatever-the-equivalent-of-Scottish-is-here. Despite being royalty, Prince James (Jamie to his friends) never really thinks of that as his world, and insists upon wearing his kilt and making no effort to conceal either his accent or his lack of learning, no matter how large a portion of his life is spent living in a castle.

Polly is a lady of the court, probably some kind of ward/lady-in-waiting sent to foster peace and goodwill from some nearby kingdom where her family are high up in the nobility, if not actual royalty. She's (secretly) in love with the lower-class Ben, who wants first to prove himself as a true knight and eventually to wed the Duchess.

When Jamie's in his 20's, the story actually starts with a strange and dangerously supernatural event that kills the old Druid who looked after their clan (and the Alexander/older brother character, if he's still around), and Polly recommends a distant uncle/great-uncle/fifteenth cousin twice removed to take his place. She claims he's family but he's shrouded in mystery and known only as the Doctor, a famed and eccentric traveler and practitioner of the natural arts (and unnatural too, as the rumor goes). She manages to contact him, probably through a quest for Ben, and the palace suddenly has a new court physician, alongside his aide and apprentice, Zoe. Like him, she’s a genius and also secretly some kind of sorcerer/mage (I have to work out my mythology, I think I just crossed over into D&D lol) who he took in a few years back when her old mentor, Dr. Corwyn, died.

The Prince is obviously very taken with the Doctor, if not from the moment they meet, at least after he gets rushed off to see him after some minor injury he receives on a hunt. He's always been the more rough-and-tumble, daring, and down-to-earth of his siblings, but now even the slightest scratch and he's off to the Doctor for a second opinion, but nobody thinks too much of it, and he is the heir now, so they're glad to see him taking care of himself. Romance ensues.

Victoria, meanwhile, takes an interest in Zoe - to be honest, I'm not sure if it's a romantic one or just lesbian solidarity, I've never tried to write them as a ship before but it could be interesting, and I think in this universe the opportunity definitely presents itself. Victoria's been well-educated for a life in the court, and while she feels bad complaining because that's more than the rest of her family ever had, she only knows enough of science to be mystified and intrigued by what she doesn't know, and seeing a young woman her own age with the skill and experience Zoe has, who's so well-traveled and confident in herself, enthralls her. On the other hand, Victoria's much softer and lady-like than anyone Zoe's ever worked closely with, but she's impressed by how responsible she is, and sympathizes with the weight placed upon her - everyone knows she's seen as the bridge between the old kingdom and the new, even more so than her brother, who's destined to inherit but still cut from the same cloth as their father, and not that of the ruling classes.

At some point, I'm fairly certain their parents get either killed or presumed dead during a sea voyage (as seems to happen in these things), and Jamie unhappily receives the crown, which causes a bit of a hiccup in everyone's relationships & responsibilities - and of course, throughout all of this, they're still having issues with the supernatural entity threatening them. Jamie's not one to turn down responsibility, but he's pretty miserable about it, and in the end, he finds a way to abdicate so Victoria can take over, being much better suited to it. Jamie just wants to go off traveling with the Doctor (perhaps even in a strange blue box?), and Zoe takes over his practice at the court, being more than qualified and having a few reasons of her own for wanting to stay there, because romantic or not, she's become Victoria's support/confidant/partner in crime. It might be revealed that their parents survived and just took a long time getting back because of all the sidequests that seem to go along with getting shipwrecked in this kind of genre, but even if they return everyone approves of the setup their kids worked out in their absence, Victoria comes of age and is crowned queen, and Jamie has their blessing to go off, marry the man he loves, and take up a lifestyle he prefers.

Those are the basics of the AU. I've had ideas about actual fics for things like the Doctor's arrival, he and Jamie falling for one another/flirting badly over time, Zoe and Victoria growing together, things Ben tries to do to move up in the world and/or get closer to Polly, whatever exactly happens to the parents, and adventures Jamie & the Doctor have as travelers in that world after they're married, but I've written very little in the way of actual scenes or moments, so it's mostly just an elaborate concept right now. The actual adventure-y plots making up the background to all of that would also involve a lot of magic shenanigans and and probably some creatures unsubtlely adapted from different bits of Celtic mythology because that just feels like the natural place to go at this point.

It seems like it'd be fun to write, but I could also see myself getting bogged down in minutia and never coming up with anything actually fun and easy to read, so I'm not quite sure if it'll ever wind up on my To-Finish list, but who knows. I could also see myself writing a particular scene and going ‘well shit, now i have to write the rest just so I can post this bit’ so I guess it could go either way.

Anyways, thank you for asking! I sincerely hope I didn't bore you to tears with all that!

#alright executive decision #im making a new tag for talking about fics #it's gonna be #not fic but fic talk #not terribly original but whatever #asks #hmm i really do wonder if i'll write this one day

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