#Lady of Tumbleton

[coldraindropsss]

Sharis Footly, Lady of Tumbleton and her son.

[kataraavatara]

Daeron Targaryen watching his men follow his lead and slaughter innocent civilians right after he slaughtered thousands of innocent civilians:

[ireneispunk]

Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

[judasalicent]

my prediction right now is that a conversation between alicent and mysaria will occur in late s3 and have a similar function in the story as elizabeth bennet and lady catherine's conversation at the end of pride and prejudice lol.

in early s3, the relationship between alicent and rhaenyra will be strained because rhaenyra will believe alicent lied about aegon. but, as we move through s3, alicent will face no consequences for her "betrayal" besides being (very comfortably) imprisoned. in other words, alicent will suspect (though probably not consciously acknowledge) that rhaenyra still cares for her enough not to torture/execute her despite the perceived betrayal.

i believe this will inevitably climax with a private conversation between alicent and mysaria, who rhaenyra will be closest to during the beginning of s3. even at the top of s3, mysaria will be suspicious of rhaenyra's relationship to alicent due to the sept meeting, rhaenyra trusting alicent's plan to take the city, rhaenyra refusing to torture/execute alicent, etc.

as s3 progresses, rhaenyra and mysaria will grow to be more at odds as the interests of the nobles (with rhaenyra as representative) and the smallfolk (with mysaria as representative) begin to clash. this will culiminate in rhaenyra rejecting mysaria (for alicent) in some capacity mid-season, inspiring mysaria to confront alicent herself. up to this point, alicent may suspect rhaneyra's feelings, but her conversation with mysaria will make them explicitly known. alicent will realize that rhaenyra's love has kept her alive and well during her imprisonment.

the major consequence of this conversation will be that alicent, even if given the opportunity to leave king's landing in late s3/early s4, likely will not take it. knowing that rhaenyra's love is still there, alicent will seek it out. so just like elizabeth bennet realizes that mr. darcy still loves her after lady catherine reveals he intended to propose, alicent will realize that rhaneyra still loves her after mysaria reveals that rhaenyra is actively protecting her.

and to go even further, rhaneyra and alicent will potentially be given the opportunity to acknowledge their love for one another at the end of s3/beginning of s4 after rhaenyra turns away from the smallfolk after first tumbleton. in the same way that elizabeth and mr. darcy could confront their love for one another after lady catherine visits longbourn.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

HotD seems a bit kinder to Ser Otto and Queen Alicent and now even Ser Gwayne. Granted the Hightowers we meet in the main story are only just briefly mentioned by other characters, but what do hear of them like Leyton or Lynesse aren't that great. The Lannister get a lot of (not undeserved) flack from within the fandom, but are under-the-radar terrible as Houses like the Lannisters or even the Freys or Boltons?

I wouldn't say HOTD is kinder to the Hightowers, as much as it allows them to be real people and not just historical caricatures or empty shells. (The biggest failure of F&B's history book conceit, more than any of the other problems with that book.)

For example, Gwayne in the book gets assigned to the Gold Cloaks to keep an eye on them in case some are still loyal to Daemon, and then during the Fall of King's Landing gets murked by his own men because indeed they are still loyal to Daemon. That's it, that's all there is to him, there's no there there. (Although the "You turncloaks!" "Daemon gave us these cloaks and they're gold no matter how you turn them." is a great line, and I hope it's kept even if Gwayne may not be involved.)

Gwayne in the show, however, is a prissy classist racist aristocrat, who is still brave in battle and protective of his sister and caring for his nephew; he's a knight who helps depict GRRM's knighthood themes with Criston; he's an actual person, both good and bad as a GRRM character should be. I have hopes that Gwayne takes the Ser Hobert Hightower role for the Caltrops and Second Tumbleton, that would be a great ending (especially considering his relationship with Daeron) for an excellent actor.

Re the main story Hightowers -- well, generally GRRM goes by Tolstoy's principle of "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Or as he put it, "happy families are boring." Not everyone always gets along in real families, and even the most beloved king and queen can be real assholes to their daughters. I imagine that when we actually meet Leyton in TWOW and find out exactly how complicated his family is -- four wives and ten children, you know there's friction there -- we'll see something imperfect, but different from the Lannisters, Freys, or Boltons. Maybe more dysfunctional the way Cregan Stark's family was dysfunctional or the Tyrells are dysfunctional. (If you think they're a perfectly happy family, then you entirely missed Olenna's relationship with Mace, Mace's relationship with Willas and Loras, Mace's relationship with Margaery, Olenna's relationship with Alerie, and so on and so forth.)

I can see Leyton as a patriarch who became increasingly distant as he got more into esoteric research (he hasn't come down from the top of the Hightower in more than a decade), leaving the eldest son Baelor to manage everything practical in the absence of his father. Was Leyton already half-distant the year before he stopped leaving the Hightower, and that's why he let his youngest daughter (only 16 or 17 years old) marry a newly knighted 35-year-old poor-ass lord from the back of beyond just because he did well in a tourney? How did the rest of the family react to that? The people of Oldtown don't think much of Lynesse now, but how did they feel when their young golden lady was taken away by a bear? These kinds of complicated relationships are the sort of detail GRRM loves to sink his teeth into, and is one of the reasons I'm so looking forward to Sam's Oldtown chapters almost more than anything in TWOW.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Promising love in flames

Daeron Targaryen (son of Viserys I) x wife!reader

warning : emotional, character death, kissing, hurt/comfort, daeron is the only one of his brothers who is normal and doesn't suck in the fic, no use of y/n

Summary : Daeron the only heir to the green throne before his niece Jaehaera was the last hope that the throne could still be held. Even after the many defeats, his older brother sat crippled but still alive by the iron swords. But the second battle at Tumbleton was imminent and it seemed that Daeron and his wife would only be able to see each other one more time before death appears.

info : It's a shame Daeron isn't in the series i like him even though his death is such a mystery and like everyone i just feel sorry for everyone during the war. I inflicted myself with emotional damage sadly. I hope it doesn't hurt too much to read this, have fun anyway :)

masterlist

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The war was raging over Westeros and especially in King's Landing and the surrounding villages and towns at its worst. Houses had already been wiped out, more people died every day than from the plagues of disease it was miserable everywhere.

People were starving, and if they didn't starve they died of the pharynx, and if the fire didn't cure them it was the sword of a saw or a rope around the throat.

They all died in one way or another. The blacks behind Queen Rhaenyra had already lost the poor princes and thus the queen's children as well as the rough prince doc nevertheless they did not give in they still had reserves and the Nord who still played a role gave everything he had in men and resources under Cregan Stark. Every dragon seed was used for the remaining dragons or other positions.

But similarly, each house tried their best to help the now injured and crippled King Aeon the Second and protect his last child, his daughter, but their hopes lay with the former Queen Alicent's youngest child after the moon was killed by his uncle.

Daeron Targaryen third son of Viserys the first the youngest of his siblings a young man of sixteen years but with the courage and determination to unseat his stepsister and continue to hold the throne. But this was also the only dragon the greens had left after the collision of the dragon pit by the people.

Tessarion and his rider Daeron were the last hope for the greens, his mother, his brother, his niece, the people and above all the young prince was the hope and light of his wife.

Shortly before the outbreak of war, the marriage had been arranged with the first daughter of Lord Peake, a girl of his age, not only politically, because of the countries and the men's discrimination, it seemed as if there was a certain tragedy behind it.

It was a chilly morning in the sept of King's Landing when the royal lady arrived with Lord Unwin Peake. A daughter in a dark dress of her family was already standing at the entrance next to her father, a man who was proudly dressed.

His daughter was bound to the prince of the realm, the winning side, and that meant favor and respect for a good marriage from the point of view of the players.

She remembered the fear she had that he would not like her, that she would not like him as she walked the path to Atlar past the royal family to which she would soon belong. But her husband, the prince of the kingdom of Daeron stood there a cloak green with gold the clothes decorated with dragons which met her bronze with the towers. ,,My lady, I am delighted to see you," he had murmured to her, taking her hand gently, it was his softness that set him apart from his brothers and his dreamy sister. It seemed that Daeron was the good coin of the Targaryen.

It was then, in the few moons they had together found peace, that they truly took a liking to each other. He was always willing to prove to his brothers that he was just as strong as them, just because his dragoness was the smallest of the adults.

But it was always like this as soon as he came back to her and he became soft, poetic and above all loving. His kisses were always gentle never hard and harsh like a dragon he was just the picture of a good prince.

She had a loving dragon with a sense of duty and who fought for his family and took them on flights into the sky and to uncharted cities with his dragoness Tessarion. ,,Only you surpass the sky in your beauty my lady" were just a few of the compliments he paid her. He was soft, showed her things that only a prince and princess couple could do, let her tinker with things and she let him listen to old stories from valyria while he held her in flight.

It was a marriage that was childless at that young age but it was a marriage that was politically correct and they both got to know each other better. Until the time they were called to the council and the news of the war came, ,,I will do my duty brother my life is dedicated to the crown" he had said first without hesitation and she held his hand.

It was his loyalty and duty to which his brothers were committed and always needed. He looked into the violet eyes of determination as they were sent off to Oldtwon that very evening.

He served his kinsman Lord Hightower and always reassured her that everything would be all right, ,,I'll protect you with my life, my love," he murmured over and over when he found her weeping bitterly.

She was afraid of losing her family, afraid of losing her Daeron…but by that point her husband had earned the title of Daeron the Daring and won the first victory in Tumbleton.

It was a victory that was celebrated, a victory she looked forward to with a pounding heart as she waited in his tent, which was guarded. She ran longingly into his army and he held her again.

He always held her even now in the year one hundred and thirty after aegon's conquest when the second battle of tumbleton took place and the attackers took her by surprise. it was a knowing that it was over.

They just had to listen outside, ,,Yet this day was so beautiful," she heard him murmur as the prince rose from his chair by the battle plan, the simple golden crown on his head removed. His eyes were violet with disappointment, love and relief.

His wife got up from the two-seater and put down her wine. In her dress she always looked like a beautiful queen to him. ,,Tessarion seemed so free," she admitted and looked outside, the tent flap fluttered every now and then and they knew what was going on outside. They could not withstand such an attack.

He nodded yes, his Tessarion seemed very happy on their morning ride together, spitting beautiful blue flames, circling calmly and cuddling her rider and his wife. ,,She loves flying like we do," he said and held out a hand to his wife, who accepted it.

His violet eyes looked at her despite their young age, they seemed to have aged. Daeron's hair slightly tousled and still with soot damaged here and there by the fires, his beloved's dress beautiful and yet with splashes of blood as she too had seized crossbow and sword to defend herself until Tessarion killed the attacker.

Her eyes showed her youth but her body was tired of it, ,,Duty my daring prince you were too good for this damned bloodshed" she said and laid her head against his chest.

His heartbeat, though relatively fast, was not full of fear, his hands trembling slightly around her. His lips kissed her forehead and his fingers made her look at him.

Tears had gathered in her eyes as the screams grew louder and she felt the warmth above the tent. The tent where they had spent the last days and weeks. A beautiful tent where they shared love, kisses and emotions.

But he wiped away the falling tears, kissing her cheeks gently as he always did, ,,I love you from the day I saw you. I couldn't be more grateful and proud," he told her with a soft smile that made her lips evenfalsl into a smile. Her sniffles mingled with silent tears of pride as he heard the cry of his dragoness she heard the words in Valyrian he commanded his beloved dragoness to fight one last time and fulfill her duty.

It was Vermithor and Seasmoke in the sky when they heard Tessarion rise with a scream and flames engulfed the tent only moments later. The heat slowly increased the blood increased the death increased. Their end came closer. ,,You were a good being, loyal and daring…thank you Tessarion," she heard him say as the blue flames of his dragons engulfed the tent and the prince seemed unafraid of the flames of his family, even if his own eyes watered. His favorite memories slowly burst into flames around them, a nice contrast to the beauty of his wife.

She liked the flames of Tessarion, the blue was pretty, the dragoness was beautiful and Daeron was gentle, it seemed almost soothing to die in his arms surrounded by the warmth of the pretty color of the cobalt blue, the violet of her dear Daeron's eyes and his light hair. ,,Will it hurt?" she asked nevertheless as the flames began to engulf the furniture and wooden beams and it grew closer and more inescapable.

A question they both knew would only do so for a moment before they would die in each other's arms. ,,Just for a moment, my love, but I'm with you," he promised, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear and joining their hands together.

They were still beautiful and in love, they were everything majestic there was in this hellhole. They were eternal in the stages of history and each other's hearts and that was what mattered.

Blue flames crawled across the ground slowly touching their clothes and Daeron's cloak the dragons on his cloak began to burn their towers began to glow. It was getting hot just below the surface, but all only for a moment it seemed to go away.

They sang to each other, ,,I love you so infinitely with my heart that we may be together again in the endless journey," tears of fear and love flowed down the cheeks of the young royal couple as they joined for one last kiss.

Before the blue dragon fire flames ignited their bodies the love burned but the couple smiled softly into the kiss. Received death with love and courage and should be written in the history books of the masters yet to be read.

Prince Daeron died in his wife's arms and she died in his arms, sharing one last kiss before the flames of Tessarion's loyalty put an end to them. It was the most beautiful and tragic image the Dance of the Dragons produced, but it was a love for eternity. The love between a true prince and his lady wife. Together forever beyond the mortal world, bound by the love in their hearts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty Chapter 14

Synopsis: Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

"Queen Helaena is dead." Black hung before you face, the veil a mask of calm. Sitting in a straight backed chair some would think you were a ghostly apparition. Cloth hung about you life a shroud.

"How did she die?" Lady Mari looked to her hands, pale and shaking. "She threw herself off Maegor's Holdfast. There was a riot in Kings Landing. Dragons were killed and Rhaenyra has fled." "So she is alive." Despite the numbness there was a flair of anger. Sweet Helaena was dead while Rhaenyra was alive. "Yes. But not her son Joffrey. He tried riding Syrax and....." Lady Mari was unable to finish. Once upon a timw you too would have felt pity. He was not Lucery's. Now you felt nothing but deepening horror. "Did Helaena suffer?" "No. I think it was quick." Letters of the dead had flowed in. Prince Maelor had also passed, torn apart by a mob.

You no longer dreamed of the forest or darkness. For the first time in months you had true dreams. Dreams of the lost flitted through your head. Alana, Elinor, Flora, Clarissa, Aemond, your parents. Even Lucerys and Ellyn's cases loomed from the darkness. Owen was now sleeping in your arms at night. Every time night came you feared he would disappear. This war had taken everything from you. Would all those you loved all die or leave? Every day you waited for new that more would die. Looking at Ladies Mari and Dara you feared they too would perish. Quietly you waited in the room. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As Westeros smolders in the wake of dragon fire survivors are left devastated. Rhaenyra Targaryen flees with her son Aegon. Her Strong children and Velaryon son dead. The youngest son dead or missing. Bereft and with little comfort Rhaenyra flees to Duskendale. The Battle of Tumbleton ends in the death of Prince Daeron the Daring along with three dragonseeds. Aegon is left in pain on Dragonstone, Alicent Hightower, his mother, is left on her knees in anguish.

"Prince Jaecerion is just outside of Kings Landing with his army. But My Lady, his dragon has died.” Lady Mari looked up at you with trepidation in her eyes. Sitting in your chair you said nothing. Information seemed to be slowly trickling in. Prince Daeron was dead and Jaecerion was right outside of Kings Landing, right in the belly of the beast.

You barely reacted to the new, at least outwardly. Lady Mari looked are you warily, unsure of what to do. It did not matter to you. Nothing really mattered, except your son. Owen lay in his crib beside your chair. He would not leave your side again. The chair was the only thing keeping you up. Otherwise you likely would have just slumped on the bed. The hard back on the chair forced you to sit up straight. Painful cramps you did not acknowledge formed in the muscle. Your body was as numb as your emotions. Perhaps the dark green dress you wore might have itched terribly otherwise. The corset ached, your ribs crying out. Ribbons tied tightly into your hair nearly looked painful, and it was.

"My Lady." Lady Mari seemed to have made up her mind about something. Dismissing herself, she disappeared. Closing your eyes you just sat there. You wanted to do something, but nothing occurred. Books and sewing held no appeal anymore. You could always ask for food. Lady Jenna had never denied you that.

Lady Dara and Cerilla entered. Cerilla stayed put as Lady Dara walked towards you. Without asking she took your hand. With no energy to rebuke her you did nothing. "Why not write a letter to Prince Jaecerion?" Annoyance peaked through the numbness. "I would hardly think he has the time to respond.” Ignoring the coldness of your tone Lady Dara pulled out parchment and quill. "He may not. But it might help you." Maybe it would. With Lady Dara's help you stood up and hobbled over to the table. "I can write it for you." All she got was a nod. But when she dipped the quill in ink no words came. Sitting there as a mute you only looked outside. "Why don't we start with his name?" "Alright. Dear Jaeceryon."

Dear Jaecerion,

I hope this letter finds you well. I dearly miss you and hope you return to my side. It has not been long since we last met and I miss you every day. Please return to my side soon.

With much love,

Y/n

The letter was hardly anything to write home about. But Lady Mari could tell you were tired. The sun was setting and it was nearly night. "Why don't we get ready for bed?" In no mood to object you allowed her to lead you to the bed. Laying down you reached out for Owen. He was quickly settled into your arms.

You dream of a prince with silver hair. This was not one of your nightmares born out of others power. In the darkness a light had appeared. He sat astride on a great stallion. His silver armor bedecked with amethysts gleamed in pure sunlight. He was ridding towards you across a green field. You raced towards him.

Jaecerion had yet to write back. Normally you would think he was ignoring you (although Jaecerion never had before) if it were not for the war. Every day you waited as there was little else in your world. Who did you give the letter to?" Lady Mari asked you. "I gave it to Lady Dara." Lady Mari looked skeptical. "Do you know who she gave it to?" "Yes. Some page boy." "And did she say the letter made it directly to his hands, in her presence." Placing down the brush you turned to Lady Mari. "What is with the sudden interrogation?" "Not interrogation My Lady. I am simply worried the letters never made it." You thought about it. The only person you could think of who might do this was Cerilla. But you had made sure there was no way she could get her hands onto your letters. "Very well. I shall call up the page boy next time."

You started to write another letter.

Dear Jaecerion,

I do not know if my past letters have made it to you. If they have then I understand the labour of your task is of the upmost importance. However I would at least like to know if you are getting my letters. I hope you are feeling well, and may the Gods keep you safe.

Sincerely,

Y/n Tyrell

You were starting to desire a life outside of Highgarden. This place was starting to feel like a prison. The walls were starting to close in around you. A headache had started to set in leaving you nearly bedridden. And none if this could be good for your son. Lady Mari had offered to take the boy out but you refused. Although you trusted her Owen would not leave your sight. You started to truly dream of life once the war was done. That was not if you were not killed, should Rhaenyra win. Who knew what would happen, the realm had gone to hell.

A week later the page boy came to your door. When he opened the door you ran right to him. Taking the letter, forgetting your manners, you opened the letter in great haste. Lady Mari looked up from her book, which you swore she had read over a dozen times. Lady Mari, who was sitting by the window, turned her head. Quickly the boy was dismissed. "What does it say?" Lady Mari walked up to you. Eagerly you tore apart the trappings.

Lady Y/n,

I have received your letters and am very glad to have them. The lateness for this letter is not due to my negligence. This war has made it difficult for any letters to get through. I hope when the false queen is dead that you will return to me, and think of my proposition.

Sincerely,

Prince Jaecerion of House Targaryen.

"Well that's good." Lady Mari placed a hand on your shoulder. Taking the letter from you she looked it over, eyes narrowed. Smiling, you walked over to the small writing table. "Will you be replying?" "Of course. Get me my ink will you." With ink and parchment you replied, feeling lighter than you had in a while.

Dear Jaecerion,

I am happy to hear from you again. And I apologize if my letters came at an inconvenient time. As to your proposition for marriage, I wish to see you in person regarding this. Of course I must speak to Lady Jenna Tyrell about this. There is so much I have to tell you, and I so wish to see your dear face soon.

With much love,

Y/n

"I will be leaving." Lady Jenna had visited you for tea the next day. It was just the two of you. Lady Mari, Lady Dara and Cerilla had all been dismissed. On edge you sat straight backed, careful not to spill any tea. Lady Jenna's deep green sleeves draped to the floor. Silk imported from Lys hung off her figure catching the light. Even Dowager Queen Alicent had never worn such sumptuous garbs. "Where to, My Lady?" You did not want to sound too nosy. However it seemed rude not to inquire when she was the one to bring it up first. Lady Jenna set the tea aside and looked to you. "I must visit my vassals, this war will end sooner than later. We need to be ready when it does." She stared at you.

"Is your son not already making the rounds?" Not wanting to sound accusatory, you simply posed it as an observation. Your cousin, Lady Jenna's only child, was already visiting the troupes. His wife, Cerilla's elder sister, resided in this castle yet you had not seen her. Whether she knew you were here could not be said.

"We must also discuss in detail regarding what will happen when you leave. Casterly Rock will obviously be your place of residence. I have also received letter of betrothal. King Aegon will want a male heir, which you have shown able to provide. Tyland Lannister, your former brother in law is a contender. The sept will grant permission if the marriage goes forth. There are others, but I was wondering if you had anyone in mind." Lady Jenna's eyes made you squirm. "I am not sure as of yet." You had not known Tyland well, he was hardly at Casterly Rock. The idea of being married to Aegon of all people nearly made you feel ill. You had seen much and heard worse. Somehow you doubted that war, burns and the death of poor Helaena would temper him. More likely he was worse these days.

After that Lady Jenna left, the tea cooling in her cup.

"Lady Jenna wants you to marry who?" Lady Mari was doing up your hair. The morning was cold but she had insisted a walk would do you good. The night before you had little chance to tell her anything. Lady Mari had disappeared shortly after Lady Jenna entered and had only returned at nightfall. By then you were too tired for gossip. Already you had told Lady Dara but sworn her to secrecy. Cerilla you told nothing. Speaking of the girl, Cerilla had made herself scarce as of late. You liked to imagine that Lady Jenna was displeased with her, although you knew there was no evidence for this.

“King Aegon. But I loath the very idea. Not for his scars but because he is loathsome. Also please repeat this to no one. Yet I have known the king since childhood and think I know his character quite well.” “What about Lord Tyland Lannister? He was your brother in law.” You picked up a piece of ribbon. “True. Although I hardly know him. You probably have a better measure of his character than I.” Lady Mari wove the ribbon into your hair. “I do not pretend to know Lord Tyland very well. We have only interacted in passing.” You were not too surprised. Your former husband had once complained his brother was frightfully dull. Although you could not say with certainty if this was true or an elder brother’s callous remark.

“Either way I will bring it up with Lady Jenna.” Lady Mari frowned upon hearing this? Seeing the look on your face she said “It is only in your hands who you marry, not Lady Jenna. As a widow you have the right to choose your own husband.” You conceded that she was right. “ If is just that I do not know how. Well, Lady Jenna will tell me.” Rising from the chair you turned to face her.

“May I speak freely?” Lady Mari had the most grace look upon her face. Concerned, you gave her permission. “I understand Lady Jenna has been something of a mother to you.” You nearly pulled a face. Whatever she was not you was not a mother. That title belonged to Elinor. “But I beseech you to think carefully about the future, and not to rely on others. She has a son, granddaughter and others whose cause she will put forth first. I would subject that the final decision be yours alone.”

The door, which had been left slightly open, slammed shut. Both of you, alarmed, leaped back in fright. Dashing to the door Lady Mari flung it open. No one was there. Lady Jenna had recently felt there was no need for guards posted just outside. After all, you are not a prisoner. She looked around and then came back in. “No one. The wind?” Neither of you found the explanation satisfactory. Lady Mari quickly bolted the door. “Just in case.” She explained.

The castle became alive with the bustle of servants. You knew because of the racket clearly heard. Although you did not know why. Hopefully at first you thought it might be tidings that the war was over. But upon asking a servant she said it was not so. You could not think of any celebration that was taking place. They seemed to be bustling to and to fro, cooking and cleaning. The clatter irritated you greatly. So long had it been since you could go out into large crowds that things which were once quite normal were suddenly very alarming.

Deciding it was of no consequence, you played with Owen. He was getting stronger by the day and more beautiful. “Well aren’t you just lovely.” Owen gave you the list beautiful smile. Kissing him on the head his little hands seized your hair. “Ouch!” You cried out. He quickly let go and stretched out. With a sigh you placed him back on the bed. As of late Owen had stated to grab things. Lady Mari told you this was a good sign.

Taking care of Owen was not the only thing you did. Writing to Jaecerion had become a part of your daily schedule. It seemed that once he knew you wanted to communicate he was more than happy to comply. Today you sat at the desk with his latest letter.

Dear Y/n,

I understand we have seen little of each other during the war. It is lamentable that taking you to Highgarden was our only interaction. Please tell me where we shall meet after the war. And Y/n, I have no desire to continue my life without you. When this war is finished I wish to be with you. Should you chose me, I would be the happiest man in the world.

Yours,

Jaecerion Targaryen

“What does it say?” Nosily Lady Dara looked over. The large grin on your face made the letters contents evident. Hope. If Lady Jenna consented then you would be queen. Unless Aegon had a son but that seemed unlikely given the nature of his injuries. Rumour that it that the burns sustained by Rhaenys Targaryen had made him impotent. They said he ordered knight to fuck whores in front of him. And then when he remembered his own inadequacies Aegon would weep. Of course you were not sure if this was true. Strangely pity stirred for his plight. Even if Aegon repelled you with his lustful urges. He had no sons, who had both been cruelly cut down by Rhaenyra. It would be unlikely that he could father a son. Suggestion had of a new wife had been brought up. Other than you, there was Cassandra Baratheon and Tyshara Lannister. One was the elder sister of Ellyn, the other a former step-daughter who loathed you. Neither spelled good news for you. Tyshara loathed you and although Cassandra’s personality was a mystery she was Ellyn’s sister. You doubted she would take to you. Then again he might marry another. Snidely Cerilla had mentioned her name being put forth. At that young age laughed and said “I doubt they will look to you. There are greater woman of good character and lineage, of which you are not amongst their number.” At that she had turned red and stormed off. Either way, if you married Jaecerion they would not be able to touch you. Pondering queenship, you thought about how satisfying it would be to rule over them. At that moment you regretted Ellyn’s death. If only she could see you as queen. They would all regret and beg for mercy. Oh how sweet the scent of revenge would taste.

In that moment you made your decision.

Dear Jaecerion,

I am glad to hear you are well. As to the matter of marriage, I accept. Gladly I would be your wife. Lady Jenna will be breached on the subject.

With much love,

Y/n

Later that night you sat with Lady Mari on the bed, holding Owen. You told her of your plans and hopes. To your dismay Lady Mari did not look pleased, not in the slightest. Instead she looked worried, very much so. Did she think you were reaching too high? "Who took the letter?" Lady Maris's questions were making you feel on edge. The slight amount of safety you felt dissipated with her anxious eyes boring into you. "To Lady Dara. I already told you this." You had not meant to sound so rude but the disappointment in Lady Mari's less than enthusiastic reaction stung. Seeing the look on your face Lady Mari said "I am happy for you, truly. But I would suggest you make this official before telling Lady Jenna." "Why?" Lady Mari looked towards the door. "I am not accusing anyone of anything. But as Lady of Casterly Rock is it not your duty, not Lady Jenna's?" You considered what she said. Technically what Lady Mari was saying rang true. At one and twenty, a widow and mother, you had the right to dictate your own path. At least to a certain extent. "Alright. I will work out everything with Jaecerion. Make sure no one but you gets the letter." Lady Mari nodded.

Winter had come. You should have known but most information was filtered through Lady Jenna. The air had become colder and the sun looked diminished. Owen was bundled up in furs to keep him warm. Wood was supplied to heat the circular room. Despite this you woke up cold that morning. Walks outside had stopped. Most days were spent reading or playing chess, Lady Dara had found a set in the library. Day by day you waited for Jaecerion's letter. Every morning Lady Mari would check to see if any more letters were received. Other than official letters taken care of by Lady Jenna there was nothing. "He is likely just busy." You convinced yourself.

One day the worst storm in years broke over Highgarden. A howling wind rattled the windows. Snow fell, covering the once beautiful gardens. A winter had not come in years. Depending on how long this winter was your son may very well grow up in the cold and dark. "My mum told we winter is called down by the gods to punish mankind." Lady Dara was gazing out the window. "Who knows." With a sigh you leaned back into the chair. "Eww!" Looking up you noticed Lady Dara on her feet. "What is it?" Lady Dara pointed to the dead butterflies on the windowsill. Taking a handkerchief you swept the butterfly remains up and dumped them out the window. The snow and grey sky swallowed them up. Their remains would likely be frozen and crumpled by the sheer weight of snow. Wistfully you looked out, a hole in your heart yawning like some great dark chasm.

That morning you had woken up cold. Not a physical cold, the type that reached ones soul. In your stomach there seemed to be a fist clenching with all its might. There was the sensation of wanting to throw up without the nausea. The skin on your face was oily and you guessed there would be a break out. Lips moved and felt painfully dry. Watching those butterflies drift into the cold yet gave you cause to sit by the window. For a while you looked out. It felt like you were missing something. You had tried thinking about what it could be. But whatever it was stubbornly alluded you.

Eventually realizing that this nagging anxiety would not be cured through lingering on it you took to reading. Old Legends from across the Narrow Sea was a book that you swore you remembered from your childhood. The pictures seemed familiar, blue especially taking up your memory. Some of the stories were familiar, coming back after having been forgotten for so long. The Emerald Empress was embossed with the image of a woman. An emerald tiara glittered on her head. Long ago in an empire thousands of years ago, before even Old Valyria, the Dawn Age was upon the world. It was ruled by emperor who ruled for thousands of years, and wielded untold power. The greatest empire on earth was laid low when a younger brother killed his elder sister, the Amethyst Empress. Then the empire collapsed and everything was destroyed. Still feeling unsettled, you set the book out of sight.

Calling for tea you settled by the fire. Lady Dara was fast asleep, a cup of wine set aside. Waiting for your tea there was suddenly the sound of someone running up. Jumping to her feet Lady Mari rushed to the door. Before she reached it the door burst open, stirring Lady Dara out of sleep. Your tea was nowhere in sight. Instead all you got was a gasping red faced page boy. Lady Dara reached for the cup as you picked up Owen. Lady Mari drawing to your side she demanded the boy to state his purpose. "The pretender.....Rhaenyra Targaryen.....she is dead!" Everyone stood there as if the words did not make sense. Then Lady Dara loud out something between a laugh and gasp. Lady Mari fell to her knees, hands clasped. You stood there rooted to the spot as the situation washed over. Rhaenyra was dead. The woman who so wanted you gone, who had Alana killed, who started this whole was, was dead. Numbly you walked over to the chair and sat down. "You may leave." Everyone looked startled by your lackluster reaction. You should be dancing for joy. So why were you unhappy?

The war was over. Peace still alluded Westeros as fractions battled for Kings Landing. The grief of two years of war had ended with Rhaenyra's death. You had won. But as a winter wind howled outside, it did not feel so.

You had always imagined that when the war ended there would be celebrations. Instead all of Highgarden fell silent. Instead of a bright sun hailing a new age winter storms tore apart the land. Instead of feeling light as air you spent your days in bed or sitting by the fireplace. In the meantime you had heard the finer details of Rhaenyra's death. She had fled with her son Aegon to Dragonstone, only to find her brother the king waiting. Making her young son watch, Rhaenyra was fed to Sunfyre. There ended the life of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

And as it turned out the war had not truly ended. Although Rhaenyra was dead her supporters still proclaimed her line as the path of succession. The North still rallied behind the red and black banner. With Aegon having no sons and only one remaining brother many wondered if the presidents of succession would naturally make Rhaenyra's son king. Jaecerion was already urged to marry. Every day you prayed for a letter from Jaecerion. A Lannister girl had been proposed, as he had been betrothed to one until her untimely death. Only you knew where his heart truly lay.

"Are you sure there is no letter?" Lady Mari confirmed that indeed there had been no letter. With a sigh of frustration you paced throughout the room. It was a wonder that the wood beneath you feet did not become marked by your pacing. The hems of your green gown had become frayed from all the picking. Any day now Jaecerion would come. That was what you told yourself when despair reared its ugly head. Seeing your distress Lady Mari volunteered to go down. She looked slightly pale and her thin lips were set in a hard line. Giving her leave you were still restless.

"May inquire as to your distress?" The unwelcome presence of Cerissa made itself known. "Leave. I have no need of you." Unperturbed, Cerissa stepped in as if she owned the place. "What is Lady Mari doing in such a hurry?" Shooting her a cold look, you told Cerissa that it was hardly her business. She only smirked. "I would hate if it were for some....unbecoming reason." You gave a cold harsh laugh. What she was implying was clear. "No. Women of good breeding do not sneak off. She is simply fulfilling an errand. Now speaking of sneaking off I do have to wonder what you have been up to. Gone for so long with no knowledge of you whereabouts." You returned an equally nasty look. Then there was a knock and the tea you ordered came in. The maid quickly left shooting a backward glance. Cerilla also made a move to leave, but you called out and ordered her to stay. "I have to given you leave."

Lady Mari returned nearly an hour later. Immediately you knew something was wrong. There was that feeling one gets before something unspeakably horrible happens. She looked exhausted sagging against a maid. Looking unnaturally pale she collapsed into a chair. Quickly you rushed to pour her. "What happened?" Lady Mari could only shake her head, blue eyes wide and frantic. Her lips were moving but no sound came out. Every breath seemed forced out. The maid poured a cup of tea and had Lady Mari drink it. Spluttering, Lady Mari fell over. "Get someone!" Dropping to your knees you could only hoover over Lady Mari's fast fading form. She seemed to be trying to say something. Her lips started to turn blue and you would have thought she was choking. "Mari!" You could only hold Lay Mari and slowly she lost any remaining colour, all except the blue that spread over her lips.

Lady Maris's last moments seemed to be the longest of your life. So quickly had it happened you half suspected this was a dream. A horrible dream that felt all too real. "This isn't real. I've had these sorts of dreams before. I will wake up and she will be alright." But this was the waking world. Horrid reality which you were trapped in. Lady Mari grew still, one last wheeze escaping. And you were holding her body, standing over your fathers body. Eyes unseeing looked up at you. A maester arrived. But when he walked up you simply said "She's dead."

Weeks later they told you Lady Jenna had returned. The weeks without Cerilla was a blessing. Without lady Mari your world had become even more lonely and Cerilla only made everything hurt. Lady Dara was a good woman. But poor Lady Mari had not deserved to die. She had only been so four and twenty. Still with her whole life ahead. All the children and love she might have had was robbed. Wars end had brought little joy. Only the threat of Rhaenyra's wrath was removed. Your live had become marred by death. Survive you might have, but at what cost? Three ladies you had lost, two untimely taken, you ending herself. You were self tempted to send Lady Dara away. Only a selfish part of you, the part that did not want to be lonely

Sorting through Lady Mari's things was hard to say the least. She had not brought much from Casterly Rock, but every hard of cloth, every small tin, was a small stab to the soul. Being well organized she had kept a will so the affairs were in order. Your hand trembled as you wrote meaningless words to her family. Once more you had been completely useless when it came to saving others. When had you ever been able to save anyone? What use was there in being one of the most powerful women in the land if you could not protect those you cared for? When Alana and Clarissa had died it had fallen upon those bellow to write letters of condolences. These days you had so few attendants that the duty could be carried out by no one else. You also felt that this was owed to Lady Mari, who so tirelessly provided unwavering support.

Afterwards your hand ached, yet it dulled in comparison to that within the heart. Afterwards you took to bed before dinner. There was no appetite for food. Owen was already sleep and you placed him in your arms. As of now you were alone and with a great desire to weep. Being alone was for the best. In your pride none would subject you to public humiliation. A dull pain in the cast lulled you to sleep.

"I apologize. I have no stomach for embroidery today." Understanding, Lady Dara went back to knitting. Rarely you left the room. It was like a prison, yet a prison partially assisted by you. Cerilla had been making herself scarce these days. You were not upset about this. Sometimes Lady Jenna would drop by. These conversations usually surrounded the comings and goings of court. Now that the war was over nobles were starting to reside in Kings Landing once more. "Of course you must come. Your widowhood is well past being over." You had no desire to return to those blood coloured walls. Every happy memory had been soured. It reminded you of happier times, and the past few months there had been spent in utter humiliation. You would be happy to stay away. Most likely you would be taken to Casterly Rock. There were few if any cheerful memories of that place. But it was better than the place you grew up.

Lady Joan had taken care of most preparations. Normally that duty would fall to you. Exhaustion had weighted heavily on you. Not the type as the result of little sleep, but the type that wearies ones soul. All you wanted to do was sleep. If not for Owen or Jaecerion...

As the twenty second day of the tenth moon dawned upon Westeros you awoke in great pain. Pulling back the sheets you noticed a pool of blood staining them red. Your blood had come early this month with a vengeance. Throbbing made you want to curl up. For a few moments you lay there in agony. It was not until Lady Dara realized your condition that this was rectified. After being bathed and dressed it was time to care for Owen. Once fed he was placed on your knee. Lady Dara took it upon herself to read. Today she was reading an old story. One were a prince and princess fell in love, married and everything worked out. Oh to live in such a world.

The hours dragged on painfully. Pain was still radiating in your womb despite the use of mandrake. Not since the birth of Owen had you issued forth so much blood or felt such physical pain. Lady Dara mentioned that a lack of exercise could make ones blood more unpleasant. Unpleasant was certainly one way to describe it, although you would have used stronger terms. Eventually Lady Dara convinced you to take some fresh air. "Sitting by your window is not suitable, My lady." Surprisingly she had put away drink and abstained from all pleasures. Granted, you could not be totally sure of this. Romance books may very well be a liked past time.

Once back you decided to pen another letter to Jaecerion.

Dear Jaecerion,

I hope that when this letter arrives you are well. When this war is won I hope we can be together. Greatly do I miss the days of our childhood. Often I find myself missing those days. While we can never get them back I do hope we can find some semblance of it.

With much love,

Y/n Tyrell

Looking over it you knew Jaecerion might find it unsatisfying. He desired to marry you. But such decisions felt too exhausting. You did not even feel ready to marry. Memories of the dead pilled upon you so completely it was suffocating. You could see no end to your present suffering. Even a hundred, two hundred years from now, you might still carry around this pain like a wound. Sometimes your heart bet so strongly it hurt. If only you could have torn it out.

"Lady Y/n?" Lady Dara looked up from her embroidery. "I am fine. Send this letter out, will you?" Lady Dara took it. "Will you go out walking today?" "I don't know. Owen doesn't look up to it." "Then I will take him." Hesitantly you looked at her. "He should get used to meeting other people." Still, you were not convinced. Lady Dara sighed. "How about I stay here with Owen while you walk in the garden?" Looking towards the door you knew a walk was needed.

Still, you refused. Orders had been given for you to hide, they must be obeyed.

The sheets of your bed suddenly felt cold. You had been nearly falling to sleep when a shock of could banished exhaustion. jerking up you were face to face with someone. Or could it truly be called someone when that being was translucent? Your mothers ghost stood there. You should have felt more, but she had always been such a shadowy figure and Elinor had been so mother-like the urge to miss her might never have been very strong.

"Hello." You wanted to kick yourself. But how else should you address her. She beckoned you to sit up. Hesitating you looked over at Owen, fast asleep. She shook her head. "Leave him." Looking back you shot her a cold look. "That is my son." "Leave him. Where you are going will not be safe for him." "Then were are you taking me?" "Down the only path that can save your son."

A few minutes later you were alone walking down the hall. You had no difficult leaving. There were no guards at the door or in the hallway. Everything was eerily quiet. Each step sounded loud to the ear. A black sky made it feel later than the night truly was. You could see windows still lit up. Donning the same black dress frequently worn these past two years, you ventured to who knows where. A serenity you had not felt in a while descended. Normally you would be afraid to disobey Lady Jenna. You guessed it had to be your mothers presence (or could it truly be a presence if it was her ghosts, if that is what it truly was). Her hair swayed back and forth, every step naturally taken. This had once been her place. Likely, if this was your mother, she knew the place better than you

Down a flanking tower you went. Still no one in the way. At the bottom of the tower was a door. Your mother stood aside. Opening it you stepped out into the garden. Or rather one of Highgarden's many gardens. Placing a piece of wood between the door so it did not lock you suddenly noticed a symbol on the door. The carving of a rose caught your attention. Beneath you was a cobbled path. "Where to now?" Your mother pointed to a rose bush. As you approached it a door appeared beneath your feet. "What is this?!" Spinning around you face her. "Is this witchcraft!" She gave you a look. "No. Now do you want to save your son?" She had got you in her grip. There was no turning back now.

Bending down you attempted to yank it free. "How does this unlock?" You fiddled with the lock some more. "Blood." You looked up. "Sorry?" "Blood. Smear it on the door." Reaching over you seized a rose stem. Thornes cut your delicate skin. Blood stained the skin horribly. Wincing you brushed it against the door. Swinging open you saw a flight of dark staircases. Taking caution you stepped down the cold flight. Torches burst into life lighting the way. The door above closed. With no railing the journey was somewhat treacherous. Although the trip was not long it certainly felt that way. Once at the bottom you breathed a sigh of relief. Looking back you saw your mother float down. Ahead was a door which had certainly seen better days. It looked to be hanging on just barely. When you touched it would the door merely fall over?

The door remained and did not fall over. For whatever reason there were no torches. Thankfully there was enough light emanating from the hallway to provide sufficient sight. Recoiling, you nearly fleed from the room.

Adorning the circular wall was the drawing of a great tree, sketched in red. A metallic scent stung the air nearly making you hurl. On what was supposed to be the trunk a face, twisted. archaic, looked out. Branches stuck out like hands, in the flickering of lights they looked alive. You half expected for those ghostly hands to reached out and slam the door shut. Looking closely you thought there were small faces in the pain. All of this was too eerily similar to your dreams. Now they had truly invaded the waking world.

"What is this place?" Your mother walked right past you. before the painting she stood. "Your ancestors left these markings here. long had we endured on the blood of First Children. The beyond strings us along. A great power allows us to walk for, defying." You were by the door. Without even realizing it you had stepped back. You breathing echoed in the black, bounding off stone. "Is this a curse?" She shook her head. "No. This is your lifeline. Do you want to save your son?"

They would call this heresy. But this be to the damnation of your soul? What Seven Hell would you reside in for this act? Fear for your son alone caused you to act. A burning was felt in the wrists. You shouted out as cuts appeared. Looking down the blood gushed forward. "Just as you spilt blood on the Weirwood tree in King Landing, so you spill blood here. Wipe it on the face." Stepping forward you reached out. Closer you got and the face moved. Not seemed to, it truly moved. Once your blood stained its white lips it sucked your blood in. With that it was gone, the pact was made.

Cold sweat ran down your back. "If this is to the damnation of my soul will it save my son?" Those eyes looked at you. "Oh you know nothing."

Your wounds were there the next morning. Looking down you saw thin white lines. When they dressed you effort was taken to make sure no one would see them. Ache emanated from the recently healed skin. It made it difficult to rotate the skin. Owen stayed beside you all day. After what you had done he was all that mattered. Even your death was a worthy price for his survival.

The days stretched out into long agonizing drawls. Every breath you took ached to the core. Cold sweat rolled down your back. You became painfully aware of every sensation. Weight of your soul made actions such as even breathing difficult. Every moment took a great effort. Sometime unbidden tears would roll down your face. If it were not for Lady Dara constantly bringing food and tea you might have wasted away, more than you were already. Your state had become such that Lady Dara would sometimes take it upon herself to feed Owen. Thankfully he was old enough to be weaned off breastmilk. Doom was hanging over your head like an axe. Any moment you expected it to fall.

"It truly is a pity." Cerilla's presence had become more frequent. Seemingly in Lady Mari's absence Cerilla seemed eager to fill it. Another young might have cared. A young naive girl with only happy days ahead and a child’s notion of the world. Even as she was before you Cerilla’s face was not in focus. She might as well be a shadow on the wall. With a detached observation you wondered at your lack of emotion. The world was a haze in front of you, a lucid dream. You wondered if this was the price payed for your pact. But it if saved Owen all would be well. So long as he lived you were alive.

Cerilla persisted in her presence. At some point she pulled out a letter. It bore the royal seal and was already open. “This was naturally addressed to Lady Joan, but it concerns you as well.” With a sickening smile she opened the letter with a flourish. Clearing her throat Cerilla spoke.

We regret to inform the kingdom of King Aegon Targaryens passing. He departed to the Gods as the sun set. It is also with equal regret that we announce the death of Prince Jaecerion Targaryen-"

Not even Cerilla expected your reaction. If she expected crying or wailing she was sorely disappointed. To her it looked as if all the air had been let out of you. A great breath, your chest heaved and eye grew impossibly wide. Struggling to breath you were unablr to move. Your mind and body had become two separate things, unable to control the other. Anyone walking in would have thought you were seizing right up. But the wound you had been dealt was not physical. No maester could help you in this state.

Recollection in this state was impossible. When Cerissa left and Lady Dara entered you could not say. Cast into an abyss of darkness and grief all you did was merely exist in frozen horror. Jaecerion was dead. Young handsome Jaecerion. His life flashed before you eyes. From boyhood to a man he had always been there. And it occurred to you at that moment, Jaecerion had been the only one to love you. Now you were all left alone, save for Owen. No other had loved or protected you so. He joined the great mass of the dead who had left your life. They swarmed into one force that haunted you to sleep.

That night you dreamed of a handsome prince with purple eyes. His silver armor flashing in the light, he had saved you from darkness. And in that dream you lived in a fantasy. In all the stories you read good triumphed and she lived happily ever after. And a handsome prince accompanied her to whatever end.

Waking up brought back all the pain. How bitterly you had wept. Terrors came to your mind. Nothing to preoccupy you from this grief. All their faces came. Aemond, Alana, all their faces came before you deathly pale. Unlike your sweet dream that brought you so much joy these faces spoke of despair. No amethyst eyes, just empty sockets.

You did not protest when they moved you. Bathing, feeding ,dressing, all of it, was done with the upmost obedience. Sometimes you were aware of Cerilla's presence. Sometimes she spoke, not that you understood anything. You had become mute and deaf to the world. Only the inner turmoil of your mind existed.

"Will she get better?" "I dunno." "Do you know what has distressed her so?" Their voices blended together into a symphony of confusion. "Do they think I have gone mad?" You thought to yourself. Although your mind could now make out words they meant little. In the past week the only thing you had been able to do was care for Owen. Every day Lady Dara would male sure the two of you had time together. Every morning you pressed kisses to his soft curls and Lady Dara brought toys. Slowly you started to gain some soft of existence. Between the waking world and lucid dreams of the dead became a way of life.

They peeled the nightgown off of you. A silver tub had been moved. Citrus filled the air and you were lowered into the warm water. Someone's hands were running through your hair. A pitcher of water washed the suds away. Leaning back you allowed the scents to overtake. Citrus, wax candles, the fireplace. This grounded you more than anything else. Floating in the water you became aware of your physical pain. Days at a time of immobility had stiffened you and made every move painful. For a while you simply stayed there. For the first time in a while you were calm. Or rather, you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Hands rested themselves on your shoulders. Thinking it was Lady Dara or one of the maids you remained unworried. Fingertips pressed themselves into your skin, traced the back of your neck. "It truly is a pity." Jerking forward sending water flashing to the floor you turned to see Cerilla standing there. You realized it was just the two of you. Completely vulnerable in both body and mind all you could do was pray she would leave. Cerilla made no move to leave, leering at you. "They are all dead now. And Alicent Hightower is locked away." A sickening smile curled on her face. It reminded you of a snake, poised to strike with a deadly curl of the lips. "That's Queen Dowager to you." A small spark showed itself. Only for Cerilla to smoother it. "You haven't heard? Well I am not surprised." She waited, watching for a reaction. When your face showed fear she continued. "Alicent has been locked up. She will not be killed, of course. Her granddaughter will marry Aegon." Aegon? Hadn't he died? And wasn't he her father on top of that?! Seeing the confusion Cerillas laughed. "Not him. Rhaenyra's son. King Aegon, third of his name. I will be going to his coronation." It took a moment for reality to set in. The truth was so hard to grasp that you just sat there. For the first time Cerilla looked displeased. A frown appeared on her face.

"Would you like to hear about Jaecerion's death? I mean you did love him so. Wasn't there a marriage in the works. How disappointed you must be." Finally, you spoke. "Why....why would I want to hear the details." Cracked, you voice was small ,weak. Finally Cerilla looked happy. And she showed no mercy. "He had been ill for a while. An arrow to the chest is a nasty think. They thought he was getting better, but sadly the poor prince passed. They say he had some sort of spasm, choked, and the life left his eyes. I heard his lips turned completely blue." A maid entered and Cerilla stood up. "Get her dressed." Cerilla ordered, and left.

The sun was setting. Watching its progress you wondered if it would ever rise again. A fanciful thought born of grief. While the sun might rise for others, for you it would not. For the rest of this life you would endure a long night that would follow you to the grave. Long ago you had watched Laena Velaryon's coffin being dropped into the sea with a horrid finality. You had imagined it sinking to the bottom. Separated from her family and friends. Now Aemond lay in his own watery grave. Jaecerion died chocking on his own blood. His mouth had turned blue, they said. You remembered your own father growing ridged, bloodshot eyes staring into nothing.

The two of you had been having cake. It had been a favourite of his, you only just remembered. Sitting in his office your father had made time for his only child. On that day he had been telling an interesting tale, so your cake remained untouched. He took a mouthful of cake and continued talking. Suddenly he had chocked and gasping for breath, knocked your plate over. You had screamed and cried, Guards rushed in. A maester soon arrive, but it was too late. they had said he chocked on the cake. The memory had been so horrid that up till now you tried forgetting it. Now it roared back with a vengeance.

He had blue lips. Lady Mari had blue lips. Jaecerion had blue lips. Touching your own you suddenly felt cold. A type of cold that ties in knots as you made the realization.

"Owen!" Your ran.

Notes: This chapter was definitely depressing, sorry. I have been waiting so long to get to this point. The story is going to get darker so hang on. There will be two more chapters and then a short epilogue. Afterwards I will be taking a break before writing part 2. I know this part of the story will get y'all down but please continue. The "plot twist" is going to come up! I also want to make it very clear that Jaecerion is dead, for now.

I know the paragraph dividers look different this chapter and I will fix that.

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[saintsunfyre]

SHARIS FOOTLY, LADY OF TUMBLETOWN

Six months after the Second Battle of Tumbleton, Lady Sharis gave birth to a lusty dark-haired boy who she proclaimed to be her late lord husband's trueborn heir, though it was far more likely that he had been sired by Roxton. She ruled in his name as regent and became famous for her efforts to restore the shattered town. She pulled down the burned shells of shops and houses, rebuilt the town walls, buried the dead, planted wheat and barley and turnips in the fields where the camps had been, and had the heads of the dragons Seasmoke and Vermithor cleaned and displayed in the town square, where travelers paid a penny to look at them, and a star to touch them.

WINTER OF THE WIDOWS (3/9)

Johanna Lannister// Samantha Hightower // Sharis Footly // Lady Tyrell // Alys Rivers // Sabitha Frey // Jeyne Arryn // Elenda Baratheon // Aliandra Martell

[yunamedkostobot]

Jacegan Week 2024: Day 2, Canon

drabble, 1.4k words

King Jace, AU, minor jacela(political marriage), mentioned jofhaera and Addam/Rhaena

The sun sets over King's Landing as Cregan stands near the Princevault — so this building with the slate roof and high carved doors is called now, with prince Daeron Targaryen, formerly the Daring, kept here. 

It was the surprise when not so long after the war ended, King Jacaerys Targaryen, former Velaryon, declared that his uncle, who barely survived the battle of Tumbleton, would not be executed, but instead held in lifelong captivity.

« I understand your concerns, my lords». — he said to the Small Council. — «But my uncle is not dangerous now. His dragon is dead. He lost his left arm and half of his foot in the last battle, he has numerous burns… He will not be able to fight for the throne. Nobody will follow the king who is crippled to such an extent. And he is still my uncle, and I don’t want to spill the blood of my relatives.»

«Why won’t you send him to the Nightwatch, your Highness?» asked Corlys Velaryon, Master over the Ships then and Cregan, who stood by here with Hand’s brooch on his doublet, was more than agree with him. 

If there hadn’t been a Bitterbridge massacre, Cregan could have even felt pity towards the fallen prince. But not after him demanding to kill all of his inhabitants even after the true killers of prince Maelor were executed. No, he does not understand why Jacaerys spared him. 

« He may be kidnapped by remaining Green supporters during the trip. Here, he would be under supervision. His niece may still visit him, though.» — Here he chuckled.

The only niece the imprisoned prince had was princess Jaehaera, who just goes out from the Princevault, in her blue dress, with her hands hold by both King Jacaerys and Queen Baela. The girl looks not really happy, but content — a wildly different from the tear-eyed, trembling girl Jace described here to him they found when the capital was captured. 

At first, when they didn’t know what to do with her. She was the daughter of the fallen king, of the man, who usurped his mother and abandoned his wife when she lost her son and went mad. But she was still a young, eternally frightened girl too. The better choice was to marry her to someone loyal to the king, who will not rebel to get a crown and has the possessions of his own. There were four men who may possibly wed her - king’s brothers Joffrey and Aegon, or his bastard brothers Alyn and Addam. Some people expected young Aegon to wed Jaehaera, but the King stopped those talks and decided to marry the girl to the middle brother, and also to marry lady Rhaena to Addam, who became the heir to Driftmark. 

«I do not think that Joffrey will be against his bride visiting her uncle when they visit the Red Keep. I am not gonna wed them now cause it’s gonna be nothing, but a farce in this case. I’ll wait until the princess turns at least thirteen and their wedding will happen here.»

«And your brother?»

«Will get a Dornish mark. It’s a hardly controlled region and we need  strongholds both against Dorn and usurper’s sympathizers in the Reach.»

Here, the king doesn’t tell all the truths. Jacaerys never told about it to the Small Council, but said once to him that the reason his uncles usurped his mother may lay in the fact they would not get anything except reduced to mere toadies if she will get a throne. His uncle and stepfather was a son of the king, but didn’t get anything except a place in the Small council and nothing to give his children except the dragon eggs. Cregan thinks there is nothing to pity the usurpers for, but he more than agrees that Jace’s brothers deserve to get their own lands. Granted, prince Joffrey has Dragonstone now, but when Queen Baela will give birth to the son, it will come to him. So, there are the Dornish mark for Joffrey, Cape Kraken for Aegon and Rain House, whose Lord’s family lost  it due to its association with usurper, for young Viserys. And two of them will get new keeps for their families, when the said keeps will be built. 

Cregan sighs as the King gets down on one knee, hugs his niece and then rises and kisses his cousin and wife, who looks gorgeous in her red dress despite being heavily pregnant, on her forehead. He is not of those who can think a lot about his past, but he hardly can believe that only two years have passed since the green dragon and his rider landed nearby Winterfell. Once they hunted together, played snowballs in secret,watched the night sky and  shared kisses in its darkness. Once merely a young grandlord and prince with a young dragon — now Hand and his King, who is gonna be father soon.

But are they the same persons who have fallen for each other during the visit to the North? 

Once they reunited after Jacaerys’s coronation and his mother’s funeral, he voiced his concerns about it. Jacaerys, who there did his best to make Cregan call him «Jace» again, didn’t smiled in vain attempt to make the situation look easier, but lowered his gaze and genuinely said that he didn't know this. He was thrown out of balance by the betrayal of the dragonseeds he recruited, his brother's death and his mother being killed by one of Larys Strong’s spies. Than, they couldn’t find the words to sooth each other and barely sat alone in the cabinet,  pressing their foreheads against each other, and somehow, this was enough. 

And so they decided — no matter what, to be here and watch for each other.

The princess and the Queen leave King Jacaerys, as he goes to him. In the sky, the dragon’s cry is heard, and Cregan wonders, what sea monster is brought to keep by Moondancer now. Last time, Queen Baela’s dragon dragged the whole shark to the Red Keep. 

«We need to discuss some things privately.» says Jace, when he comes to him and Cregan nods. 

Since the war, huge numbers of armies of North, Riverlands and Vale and Blacks supporters from other Kingdoms have occupied the Westlands, Stormlands, Kingslands and Reach — as the lands whose lords betrayed their true queen. In retaliation, they will be put under direct control of the king’s through loyal people for a temporary time. Kermit Tully got the Westlands, Lord Rovan got the Reach, Corlys Velaryon got the Stormlands, and Jeyne Arryn’s heir Joffrey Arryn got Kingslands. And Cregan thinks that the reason Jace called him to his rooms is somehow connected to this. 

They reach the king’s cabinet in a minute and the guards salute to them. They enter it a second after and Jace closes the door. 

Cregan can see the said cabinet. Poets and bards often talk about how wonderful the Red Keep looks like, and sometimes Cregan is ready to agree with them. There is the broken model of old Valyria made by Jace’s maternal grandfather, king Viserys, a huge table, a chair nearby and a fire burning in the fireplace. There are a bunch of letters on the table and a  ream of sheets next to them. 

Then, Jace shows him a bunch of letters. Cregan reads them patiently. These letters come from different cities - or better to say, from unions the prominent ones of these cities, like merchants or most skilled craftsmen. The number of cities are impressive: Weeping town, Vinetown, Pebbletown, Hull, King’s Landing itself, Duskendale, Lannisport, Tumbletown, Bitterbridge… The prominent ones of these cities are afraid - it’s visible in the tone of their letters. The war left them with no protection from the marching armies of lords, especially the traitor lords and so they are asking the king for protection. They will pay money directly to his representatives, will form city militias or empower the existing ones and put the directly to the king’s service if he’ll support them in their initiative.

And there Cregan understands. Now, there are Tully, Stark and Arryn armies keeping the order in former rebel territories, but it ain’t gonna last forever. Sooner or later, but they need to leave home… And then…

« Are you going to use city councils against the former rebel lords?»

And the smirk blossoms on Jace’s lips.

«Exactly». 

[viscardiac]

"Lady Sharis Footly, the widow of Tumbleton, achieved a different sort of fame by her efforts to restore that shattered town. Ruling in the name of her infant son (half a year after Second Tumbleton, she had given birth to a lusty dark-haired boy whom she proclaimed her late lord husband’s trueborn heir, though it was far more likely that the boy had been sired by Bold Jon Roxton), Lady Sharis pulled down the burned shells of shops and houses, rebuilt the town walls, buried the dead, planted wheat and barley and turnips in the fields where the camps had been, and even had the heads of the dragons Seasmoke and Vermithor cleaned and mounted and displayed in the town square, where travelers paid good coin to view them (a penny for a look, a star to touch them)."

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

On Daeron

Daeron "The Daring" Targaryen is often heralded as being the most stable of Alicent's children and even fairly well adjusted. I disagree with this idea. We know very little about Daeron from the book, and what we do know doesn't paint a very stable picture.

We know Daeron was born around the same time as Jacaerys, making them the same age. Viserys hoped raising them together would help heal the rift between the two families, he was wrong. Daeron grew to have a great rivalry with Jace, and the forced proximity only grew his and his older brothers' hatred of the Velaryons. He was sent to Oldtown when he was twelve to squire for Lord Ormund Hightower, and there he stayed until the Dance began.

So already we've debunked one of the popular headcanons I've seen written in fics. Daeron wasn't the "nice brother", he hated the Velaryons just as much as Aegon and Aemond. We also know that he didn't get away from Alicent and Otto's plotting when he got to Oldtown, if anything it was exacerbated. Daeron was now in the snake's nest, his life now completely devoted to the anti-Rhaenyra ideas his mother was devoted to.

Once the Dance began, Daeron helped win some battles for the Greens, but was purely the puppet of Ormund, never leaving his army. Then came Tumbleton. When Daeron came Lady Caswell and her husband's land, he mercilessly burned it to the ground and massacred the people. He did try to get Lord Hobert Hightower, who had succeeded Lord Ormund when he died during this battle, to stop the brutal sacking of the town, but he was ineffective.

After this, there was much turmoil in the ranks of the Hightower army, as Aemond was dead and Aegon was missing. There were arguments over succession and Daeron supported a plot to kill Ulf White and Hugh Hammer. Before this could happen, Ser Addam Velaryon attacked and killed Ulf and Hugh along with their dragons, dying in the process with Seasmoke. Daeron was killed when his tent collapsed on top of him when it caught fire.

Now what do we learn from these events? Daeron can be just as cruel as his siblings, raining fire down on the innocent smallfolk of Tumbleton. We also know that at sixteen, he had less control over his troops than Jace did. Daeron is not any better than the rest of TG, yes he's younger, but he committed atrocities and hated Rhaenyra and her family simply because he viewed them as inferior.

[low-budget-korra]

Comments on House of the Dragon S02E07

- I LOVED how Rhaenyra eyes during the first scene with Addam , somehow looked purple sometimes.Also, my queen, you just met the most hornoble and loyal of the dragon seeds

- Rhaenyra wanting to raise an army of bastards just to spit in the face of those who called her sons bastards...*poetic cinema*

- That boy, Oscar Tully, means business

-I hate that they made Lady Arryn so mean.

-Love the memes about Alicent learning that Rhaenyra make out with Mysaria and decided to drown herself 😭 im sorry but they were so funny. But I get it, she is feeling like shit, worthless and disposable

-Jace is not wrong in this worry cuz we all know how the dragon seeds plot ended in the book. And that scene was amazing. His worries don't come outta nowhere.

-So Hugh is probably gonna lose his wife in Tumbleton and because of that he will go rogue with anger and grief, kinda like Dany, burn everything and maybe Ulf and Addam will try to stop him idk. His storyline is the one that makes me more curious to see how it will play out, it's already very different from the book, is like he is a entirely different character

-Rhaenyra speaking valyrian is so good, damn. I've missed that. And she goes alone to speak with the dragons because the dragon babysitters only wanted pure blood people to tame dragons ? Like wtf dude, they said it was disrespectful to the dragons but like, those are smart beasts

The Vermithor scene was amazing and terrifying at the same time. Hugh claiming him was the best "claiming dragon" scene. He spoke a language that Vermithor could understand: Bravery.

-Watching Aemond running away was gold

[stromuprisahat]

Alas, the king was not of a forgiving mind. Urged on by his mother, the Queen Dowager Alicent, Aegon II was determined to exact vengeance upon those who had betrayed and deposed him. He started with the crownlands, sending forth his own men and the stormlanders of Borros Baratheon against Rosby, Stokeworth, and Duskendale and the surrounding keeps and villages. Though the lords thus accosted, through their stewards and castellans, were quick to lower Rhaenyra’s quartered banner and raise Aegon’s golden dragon in its stead, each in turn was brought in chains to King’s Landing and forced to do obeisance before the king. Nor were they freed until they had agreed to pay a heavy ransom, and provide the Crown with suitable hostages. This campaign proved a grave mistake, for it only served to harden the hearts of the late queen’s men against the king. Reports soon reached King’s Landing of warriors gathering in great numbers at Winterfell, Barrowton, and White Harbor. In the riverlands, the aged and bedridden Lord Grover Tully had finally died (of apoplexy from having his house fight against the rightful king at Second Tumbleton, Mushroom says), and his grandson Elmo, now at last the Lord of Riverrun, had called the lords of the Trident to war once more, lest he suffer the same fate as Lords Rosby, Stokeworth, and Darklyn. To him gathered Benjicot Blackwood of Raventree, already a seasoned warrior at three-and-ten; his fierce young aunt, Black Aly, with three hundred bows; Lady Sabitha Frey, the merciless and grasping Lady of the Twins; Lord Hugo Vance of Wayfarer’s Rest; Lord Jorah Mallister of Seagard; Lord Roland Darry of Darry; aye, and even Humfrey Bracken, Lord of Stone Hedge, whose house had hitherto supported King Aegon’s cause.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

How badly do you need to piss off the Lords, for Brackens to defect and join the same side as Blackwoods of their own free will?

[lovedreamer11]

Is Daeron the Daring?

Daeron was described as the most popular, gentle and polite of Alicent's sons. Although in my opinion he was no better than his psychotic brothers. Daeron performed well in Battle of the Honeywine. But his further actions…

Maelor Targaryen was brutally murdered in Bitterbridge. It was terrible and cruel, I admit. This is what Lady Caswell did when she learned of what had happened:

"Lady Caswell, whose lord husband had earlier been executed by Maelor's father, King Aegon II Targaryen, was aghast at the violence. She hanged Willow, Sly, and the man whose horse had been stolen by Rickard... ...Lady Caswell hoped Lord Ormund Hightower would be merciful when he arrived at Bitterbridge. Prince Daeron Targaryen refused, however, and used the dragonflame of Tessarion to burn the town. Daeron began with the Hogs Head, but the conflagration spread to the other inns, storehouses, and homes. Hundred of wounded died within Bitterbridge's sept, and townspeople were cut down by Ormund's soldiers or forced into the Mander to drown."

You shall receive the same terms you gave my nephew Maelor.

And green fans have the audacity to condemn Daemon for the death of Jaehaerys? (I don’t approve of this. They should have killed Otto or Larys) On the one side, the evil and terrible Daemon Targaryen, who could kill all of Aegon’s children, his mother and wife, but took only one life, and on the other side, Daeron the Daring, who burned the city. Who is more cruel?

I don’t even want to remember the horrors in Tumbleton. Although Daeron did not participate in this massacre, he was not able to stop his people. As a result, the city was destroyed, nobles began to kill each other, and soldiers deserted en masse.

Daeron may have been called the Daring, but names like Daeron the Butcher or Daeron the Loser would have suited him better.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗

Summary: You are facing the Rogue Prince. You are ready to do anything to retrieve your daughter.

Warning: angst, insults. Angst again.

Masterlist (Part 28 - Part 30) [Thank you @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan for beta reading.]

“Lady Y/N Lydden. I would not have thought that you would have come.”

“And I would not have thought you surprised. I have a good reason to be here,” you said defiantly, watching some of your father’s men hastily take place before you to protect you. But Caraxes’ eyes were ever watchful, looking at them like a delicious swarm of flies.

“Still. I would have thought you glad for the opportunity to get rid of the Kinslayer’s spawn. I have always liked you Y/N, and you do not belong with this animal. Any other Lords could make you happy if you just said the word. Give you the children you deserve, not the ones you were forced upon.”

His words hit you as if you had been slapped in the face, not knowing if they angered you more than they pained you. Did every Lords in the Seven Kingdoms still believe that your husband had forced you to marry him after having stolen your honour? Was it so hard to concede that Aemond Targaryen deserved to be loved?

“We are here for the girl Daemon. She is innocent, make the right decision and give her back to us. You will gain nothing from this offence but bring shame to your name,” demanded your father loudly.

Daemon only looked at Lord Donnel with utter boredom, but you knew it to be only a front: the Rogue Prince despised being told what to do.

“Where is my nephew, pray tell?” he asked, ignoring your father, his gaze on you. “He appears to be the only one missing the party.”

“Where is she?” you raged, voice trembling. “I demand to see her.”

Daemon ignored you as well, rather content with the situation.

“I was quite disappointed to discover that it was not a son you have given him. I could not be sure you see, as you had been safely hidden away in those hills you Lydden like so much. But now that I have his daughter, I am curious to see how much my dear nephew cares about her, since he doesn’t seem to be very fond of female heirs,” his smirk grew wider. “Or is it the very reason why he is not here? Because he does not care for a female and only wants sons to succeed him?”

“How dare you-!”

“Enough!” roared Lord Donnel, interrupting you in the process. “Prince, the child is no threat to you, and we have no wish to fight. I am sure we can come to an arrangement, we know you are not supported here.”

“I am King! And no threat?” scoffed Daemon. “May my head be removed from my shoulders this very instant if Aemond the Kinslayer does not intend to take the throne for himself as soon as we are all dead. We may not have killed Aegon’s twins, but I would not be surprised to learn that he did, for his own glory. It would not be the first of his nephews he brings to his death.”

Daemon had a disgusted tone, and no one dared to react. The high-ranked Lyddens and Tarbecks beside you shifting on their saddle uncomfortably, as were your father and Adrian Tarbeck behind you.

Nobody north of Tumbleton knew that the twins were safe in Old Town.

“I demand to see her,” you asked again, burning eyes not leaving the Rogue Prince’s form for one second.

Caraxes squealed, moving its long neck around, eyes darting from his rider to you, the former shaking his head with a defiant grin on his face. You thought he would deny your request once again, but he waved his hand and a black-haired woman appeared from behind him, a babe wrapped up in linen in her arms. You dismounted at once, heart bumping in your chest.

“Y/N, do not!” you heard your father call, and the next instant you were stopped by his men, preventing you from approaching your daughter.

Daemon was enjoying the scene.

“Do not worry Y/N, she is well taken care of, but unfortunately she is to stay with me for the time being,” he said, dismounting his horse in turn and walking to the woman, brushing the silver hair of Naerys with his finger with fake fondness. He then turned to where your father was standing. “Would you like to retrieve your men perhaps?” he asked, now waving in the direction of a group of men on the side that emerged with Ser Sterron and his companions, tied up and rough looking. “It won’t make much of a difference to me anyway.”

Your father, who was seeing his granddaughter for the first time, took a moment to observe both Daemon and his men, his emotions well hidden. He would not play the Rogue Prince’s game.

“We have reached Princess Rhaenys, and your daughters as well,” he tried once more. “They are ready to hear our terms of peace, none of this has to go sour. Jacaerys Velaryon, the first-born son of your late wife, will be restored to you and-”

“I know of those terms you speak of and they are shit. No one believes in them, not even you my dear Lord and my daughters are only kind enough to hear what you have to say because you are losing,” he snarled, stepping away from his horse and walking dangerously toward where you were standing. “You had once supported us Lord Lydden, do not think I have forgotten. It is not too late to change sides again, do not let the Kinslayer intimidate you.”

Lord Donnel Lydden let nothing appear beside the strong clenching of his jaw, and Adrian next to him gave your father a fleeting look, remembering his ally’s previous disloyalty. It only made Daemon smile wider.

“If you are winning, why abduct a babe in its home?” you spoke, tone venomous as you reluctantly detached your gaze from the black-haired woman that carried your child to stare at the Prince. “Surely there are other ways to demonstrate strength.”

Daemon Targaryen wore one of his amused expression, one of those that made everybody fear his next action, but you were ready for anything. He stepped closer, now metres away from you as he stopped before the Lydden soldier that guarded you, making the latter grip his sword in fear.

“You very well know why. When he lost his eye, your husband gained a ferocious beast, the dragon that my father and second wife had claimed, and who should have been claimed by my children in turn. I am a descendant from Old Valyria, and I know better than to underestimate raw power when I see one. I am not my brother.”

“Then you know you do not stand a chance.”

Images of your nightmares flashed in your mind, of Aemond’s blood at your feet, and dread gripped your heart as you tried to convince yourself to believed in your own words.

Daemon only scoffed. “Vhagar is the only dragon still alive that lived during the Conquest. Killing her would be of poor taste. No. I only want her to be free of her rider, and I possess just the right leverage to do that.”

You felt sick. You had no idea how your legs were still standing as you were sure that the blood in your veins had stopped running. Your worst fear was about to unfold before your very eyes, and you could not let that happen.

“You are right. He will not come,” you found the courage to say, reinvigorated by the will to have your daughter safely into your arms before Aemond had anything to do with it. “He does not care for Naerys, he only wishes for a son, she is of no use to you. He might not love her but I do. Our House was once loyal to Rhaenyra, if you give her back to me, I will make sure that this loyalty never falters again.”

You could clearly sense the scandalised expressions of Adrian and his men behind you, looking dismally between you and your father. But you paid it no mind, concentrated on keeping a straight face before the now stern face of Daemon Targaryen, who had leaned even further.

“… why do I not believe you?” he murmured, searching your eyes. But after a brief glance at your father, he turned away, unconvinced, and you knew your lie had failed.

You grew desperate. “Take me instead.”

“No!”

The distraught word of your father rang into your ears but the way Daemon stopped in his tracks made your heart jump with hope. He slowly turned to you again.

“And what would I gain from that?” he inquired, clearly annoyed now.

“He may not come for Naerys, but he will come for me,” you assured. The words had come out of your mouth without your consent, but your priority was to get your daughter out of the Rogue Prince’s grasp. You would find a solution to prevent Aemond from coming for you later, even though you were terrified that you had just made the greatest mistake of your life.

“That is enough, this nonsense stops now!” Lord Donnel yelled, obvious panic in his voice. “Bring Lady Y/N back here this instant,” he ordered his men, and the next moment the riders surrounding you had dismounted and pulled you away by the arms, deaf to your screams of protest. Watching the scene, Daemon had found his smirk again.

“Well, now I am interested,” he stated, looking at the way you fought against the hands dragging you behind the line of soldiers. But everything came to a stop when a loud roar came from above, making Caraxes hiss and spread his wings in reaction, and Daemon’s grin grew wider as he looked up at the sky.

The huge form of Vhagar circled the village, and you were sure that fire would come for a short second, but nothing came as the beast roughly landed on the ground between the woods and the Tarbecks. The tension visibly heightened as men of both sides watched in both awe and fright as the she-dragon roared. Caraxes’ attention was now fully turned to the newcomer, teeth out.

From the distance, you could see Aemond on the saddle, too far to see his expression as you still struggled against your captors and Daemon retreated next to his men, satisfied. Each of the punches you gave the men holding you were expressing all of the fear that you felt at the moment, because from now on, you knew that everything would go wrong.

Aemond stayed upon Vhagar, furious but still wary of his uncle. Only the sight of him standing so boldly close to the Lydden made Aemond jump out of the saddle, going straight to the front line. When his eye caught you, retained by your father's men, his fingers itched to grab his sword and go to you, unnerved that you were treated this way, but he didn’t. Instead he went to the man he considered the greatest threat to his happiness, feeling cold fury come back to him as he got closer. 

“Nephew. Welcome,” Daemon greeted snidely, hands lazily resting on the hilt of his sword. “I have been told by your lovely wife that you would not come. I am glad she was wrong.”

Aemond could hear the faint sounds of your struggles behind him but he did not look back, instead spotting the woman that carried none other than Naerys, and his anger burst out once more, nose flaring.

“Hand over my daughter at once,” he snarled, trying to keep his burning rage at bay, calling for fire and blood.

Daemon arched a brow, satisfied by the reaction of the evidently furious man before him.

“You are in no position to demand anything, Nephew. You are here to answer for your crimes, and for Black Sister to render justice. Surrender to me and your precious breed might be spared.”

Aemond’s stance was stiff, guarded, and his expression was of utter darkness.

But he remained calm. “I will do no such thing, as it is you who is to respond for your crimes, Uncle. None of what I did surpassed any of yours. Hand her over.”

“Oh but they do!” roared Daemon, now all calm demeanour abandoned. “The murder of Rhaenyra is on your hands, my wife. You may have escaped me that day, but I know you responsible. Her death has cursed you further, Kinslayer, and you shall have the right punishment for it.”

Aemond steeled himself, fury bubbling at the surface. “You accuse me of those crimes but what of the murder of my siblings? Of my grandfather? I have nothing to do with the death of the old whore but I wish I had, and I shall not rest until I have my siblings avenged. You didn’t even have the courage to do it yourself, sending assassins to do the dirty work, as you do not have the courage to fight me now, hiding behind a baby you stole from its crib. Acts of a coward, incapable. Come uncle, and let's be done with it.”

In his rage, Aemond had drawn his sword, making Caraxes snarl behind his rider, the sound drowning your desperate cries begging for Aemond to stop. Both men stared at each other, neither yielding under the gaze of the other as everyone around them held their breath.

Daemon’s eyes shot to Vhagar, pointing out to Aemond the one thing that prevented his uncle to fight him right here and now, in the same way Aemond feared for his daughter if he didn’t get Daemon to hand her over before fighting him. When he finally spoke, his tone was as cold as ice.

“I will cut out your tongue for your foul words, your arrogant worm, right before I dislodge your head from your shoulders. If not for your beast, I will have you on your knees. But you will be begging for your daughter’s life if you don’t surrender to me now. Confess to your crimes and I shall reconsider not feeding her to Caraxes,” Aemond’s grip tightened on his sword. “Or maybe I shall start with your wife, the woman you claim to love, as her death would only be justice for mine.”

Aemond did not hear your desperate cry over the sudden loud roar of Vhagar, and he took several angry steps towards his uncle, fuming.

“You bastard! I will have you reduced to ashes!” he seethed, watching with fury Daemon approach the wet nurse and laugh.

“Hiding behind your dragon again, boy? I should not be surprised. Though I am impressed, I didn’t know you had it in you to care this much. But it does not change anything. Surrender and maybe I’ll give you a quick death. I will even let you redeem yourself and pray to your Gods before you are sent to the other world.”

Vhagar roared louder, and you felt sick in the stomach, terrified. But Aemond stood firm, his stance had even changed, now more confident as he listened to his uncle talk about the Gods.

“Or mayhap they will be the one to judge you, Uncle,” Daemon arched a brow, his interest piqued at his nephew’s calm reaction. “I demand a trial by combat. Let us fight and let the Gods oversee my revenge. Or are you afraid of the Gods as well?”

All around gasped in shock at the younger Prince’s proposal, none of them having expected such a turnabout. All were hung to the oldest Prince’s next words, eager to see if he would dare refuse. Everybody knew a trial by combat under the faith of the Seven Pointed Star was sacred, and would render the emerging victor innocent in front of the Gods as well as in front of the Seven Kingdoms of the charges raised against him. 

He did not disappoint.

“You would let your grotesque faith decide your fate? You are more foolish than I believed you to be, Nephew. Why would I accept such a challenge when I have your daughter, and your armies at my mercy?” he mocked, arms in the air as to prove his mightiness. Aemond’s composed expression did not falter.

“You will, because only then shall I send Vhagar away. It will only be us uncle, and the justice of the Gods. Hand over the babe, Daemon, and both of us shall have what we want.”

Daemon was not laughing any more, intensely staring at Aemond as to decipher any deception from him. But the opportunity was too tempting for him to let it pass.

“Aemond no! Do not do this, I beg of you!” you screamed as the people in the field grew restless at the scene unfolding before them. Yet, Aemond did not turn around, tone still threatening and cold.

“Hand over my daughter and accept the challenge, no trial will be held beforehand,” he repeated. “And when I defeat you, every Lords in the Realm will be forced to acknowledge your crimes, and my siblings will be avenged. If you defeat me, however, you will be left to deal with your actions for the rest of your pitiful life. But I would not have high hopes if I were you.”

Daemon was considering it, very seriously. He had come this far, and if his nephew thought he could defeat him in a single combat, he was gravely mistaken, a mistake that would cost him his life. With Vhagar out of the picture, Daemon’s confidence was compounded.

“You certainly make a strong case, Nephew,” he announced, coming closer to face his opponent, but still standing at a cautious distance. “Do it. Send your beast away,” he challenged.

The crowd around erupted in loud murmurs, and your vision was blurred by the tears coming out of your eyes as Naerys cried behind Daemon in the arms of the woman that looked at Aemond with fear in her eyes.

“First my daughter,” Aemond demanded.

The Rogue Prince held his gaze for a while, defiant, before turning toward the wet nurse to whisper into her ear. The black-haired woman then brought the child to Ser Sterron still kneeling on the ground as his captors untied him, and gave the child to the Knight. He was allowed to walk a short distance toward your father before being stopped by one of Daemon’s men, awaiting his Lord’s next order.

The Rogue Prince looked back at Aemond expectantly, watching how his nephew had followed the wet-nurse’s actions and was now looking back at his uncle, sheer determination on his face.

“Your beast,” Daemon repeated, hands resting on Black Sister once more, standing with relaxed confidence.

Aemond gave him a vicious look before turning over to his mount and speaking High Valyrian to the she-dragon, making her look at him with puzzled interest. She raised her head to him as he finished his command, but did not move, her yellow eyes staring at him with perplexity. But then Aemond shouted again, louder this time, urging his command onto her and she finally moved, heavily turning away with a squeal of anguish and in a flap of her wings, flown into the night sky.

All looked up at the sky as she slowly disappeared from view, and Aemond, heart clenching but still resolute, reported his gaze to his uncle. Daemon was boasting, a grin on his face as he looked back and forth between Vhagar and her rider. Then he nodded in satisfaction, like a proud father and turned in order to do the same as his nephew, shouting commands in High Valyrian to Caraxes and making him take off. Only the men remained, and all held their breaths.

“May you witness my Lords, as my nephew so naively puts it, the justice of the Sevens,” Daemon declared, addressing the crowd that had gathered around them. He reaffirmed the grip of his sword in his hand and began to circle Aemond who soon mimicked him, watching intensely at each other’s every move. “Let us see if your faith helps you, nephew.”

Aemond had smiled, confidence emanating from his fighting stance as he removed his eye-patch to throw it away, revealing his sapphire eye that glowed and gave his face a more maddened look, thirsty for blood. “Only I shall be the avenger of the death of my sister,” Aemond lowly replied. “Try not to tire too quickly, old man.”

Then ensued a fight that would be recounted for centuries, for history would remember the legends that surrounded it. But only a handful of people would know the truth of that night.

-0- Part 30

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[twoiafart]

THE THREE WIDOWS Artwork by Tomasz Jedruszek

The first of these was Johanna Lannister, the widowed Lady of Casterly Rock, who with her father, Lord Roland Westerling, now ruled the westerlands. Lord Corlys’s ravens, offering pardons and terms, had flown widely before Lord Cregan arrived, and Lady Johanna had responded by accepting all those terms, asking only that the Iron Throne command Lord Greyjoy to abandon his reaving of her lands, returning Fair Isle to its rightful lords and freeing all the noble women that had been taken as salt wives. She also swore to turn over the portion of the royal treasury that had been dispatched to Casterly Rock at the outset of the war, though required that Ser Tyland Lannister be pardoned as well.

The second widow was Lady Elenda, wife of the late Lord Borros Baratheon. She now ruled in the name of her infant son, Royce, who had been born six days after his father’s death at the Battle of the Kingsroad. She was quick to pledge the fealty of Storm’s End, offering up three of her daughters to serve as hostages. Escorted by Ser Willis Fell of the Kingsguard, the girls would be accompanied to King’s Landing by Princess Jaehaera.

The last widow was the beautiful, fiery Lady Samantha Hightower, widow of Lord Ormund Hightower and the daughter of Lord Donald Tarly and Lady Jeyne Rowan, whose own families had risen in support of Rhaenyra. She had been his second wife and was of an age with Lord Ormund’s children. The death of her husband at the second Battle of Tumbleton could have left her in a precarious position, but the new lord—the fifteen-year-old Lyonel—was smitten with his own stepmother, who was only two years his senior.