#Maeron

[vampbyteart]

finally finished this sketch of maeron i had sitting around for ages :3

[wuiche]

Art FIGHT! Where I draw mine and my friends ocs no weapons just full on brawling. Teeheee

And then a few more

[wynco]

Quick sketch of my inquisitor whom I love with all of my heart

[ase-trollplays]

To the Sea (Part two)

Maeron casually stepped out of the bathroom, steam and moisture pouring out of the open door, and stopped short when she noticed her moirail, Cavler, waiting for her.

"Pardon my interruption, Miss, but you missed several calls while you were showering. I also wish to inform you dinner is almost done. I prepared chicken almondine," he informed her. She adjusted her towel slightly and gave him a soft hug.

"Thank you for letting me know. I won't be long," she said and continued onward to her bedroom. Rather than get dressed right away, she walked to the nightstand where her palmhusk was charging to check her missed calls. To her shock, there were eight of them, all from Sonja. With a groan and a roll of her eyes, she grudgingly hit the callback button. Only his Comedy side would be this annoyingly adamant even after she ended her friendship with him. The phone only rang once before he picked up.

"Listen here, I told you we are not friends. I don't entertain abusers and liars," she started with an annoyed hiss in her tone.

"Wrong one," came the voice on the other end sounding completely and utterly defeated. Maeron blinked in surprise as Sonja's Tragedy personality wasn't the type to spam call, not even in emergencies. "May I request your presence. I... I need someone."

"Well, I have plans tonight. Can't you call Sefalo? You sound terrible, and--" The sound of Sonja's breath hitching followed by a pained sob on the other end caused Maeron to stop dead in her tracks.

"Please."

"Messiahs... I'll be right there," Maeron answered, and with that he thanked her and hung up. She couldn't throw on her clothes and apply her face paint fast enough. She tied her still damp hair in a ponytail, grabbed her palmhusk, and started hurrying toward the front door.

"Miss, is everything all right?" Cavler asked from the kitchen after hearing her rushing through the hive.

"I'm sorry, Cavler, but I have to go right now. I don't know how long I'll be gone, so just eat without me and wrap up the leftovers."

******************************************************

Maeron impatiently knocked on the door of Sonja's hive and waited what felt like an eternity. In reality it was only about a minute, but to her anxious mind it might as well have been an hour. WHen he finally opened the door, Maeron gasped at the sight of him. His hair was completely unkempt, eyes puffy and wet with deep umber sclera, and trails of tears down his cheeks. His foundation was horribly smudged from wiping his eyes, and he stood slumped over in despondence.

She immediately grabbed him and pulled him forward into a tight hug, and he was quick to wrap his arms around her as racked sobs forced their way out of him. After several moments embracing, Maeron lifted him into a princess carry and walked inside the hive closing the door behind her with her foot.

The inside of the hive was just as messy as Sonja looked. Books, magazines, and small plants were strewn about the living space as though a tornado went through it. Maeron could only hazard a guess as what must have happened for Sonja to be so emotional. She took a seat on the couch with him in her lap as he cried.

"Sonja, what happened?" she asked in a sweet but concerned tone. She took out a makeup wipe from her sylladex and handed it to him, and he gingerly wiped off his messy foundation revealing a face full of freckles. She took the soiled wipe from him and tucked it down the front of her shirt to throw away later.

"Sefalo's gone. That... That thing taking over her mind took her away, and I couldn't do anything. I just let it happen," he said with his voice wavering and cracking. Maeron vaguely remembered him saying something ages ago about a horrorterror infiltrating her mind and threatening to take Sefalo.

"Oh, Sonja, I'm so sorry," Maeron said in sympathy and pulled him close. His body shuddered as he cried once more, and she slowly rocked him and hummed much like she would for Cavler when something triggered him and caused a breakdown. She could feel her own eyes start watering.

"I couldn't do anything. I just-- just let her get taken away! I couldn't even mercy kill her so she wouldn't spend the rest of her sweeps enslaved to that monster! I'm a failure of a moirail," he lamented between sobs.

"You're not a failure. There's nothing you or anyone could have done to save her. It's not your fault," Maeron said and ran a hand through his ponytail. He didn't respond and only covered his face with one hand while he continues crying.

"You're gonna be okay, Sonja. Just let everything out. I'll be right here."

[laulo821]

"so... er.... yeah... um..."

Molli belongs to @waffled-iron

it takes time for maeron to come out of his shell. he's got a case of The Big Shy when meeting with strangers. but i'm sure molli is a sweetie and will be patient with him <3

[kingsroad]

The eight children of Viserys Targaryen and Vhaena Targaryen. Each of them were born between the years 97 AC to 110 AC. Only Rhaelys, Elayna, and Aenys survived the Dance of the Dragons that threatened to wipe out every one of Vhaena’s beloved children — one by being a kinslayer, one by betraying them all, and one by turning craven.

[vorbarrsultana]

Has anyone tried to sindarize Amarië? Her name is derived from márië (Q., n., "goodness, happiness") with infinitive prefix a-. Sindarin doesn't have the exact equivalent of márië (or mára, the compatible adjective). However, it has the word maer (S., adj., "good, excellent, fair") which cognates with both mára (Q., adj., "good, proper, fit") and maira (Q., adj., "excellent, admirable, precious"). Related adverb mae means "well" (as in "mae govannen" = "well met"), and mae- is featured in maed (S., adj., "shapely, pretty"; Maedhros = "maed (shapely)" + "ross (red-haired)"). The noun for "goodness" in Sindarin seems to be maeras. That said, the best I can come up with is Maereth, which is maer + feminine suffix -eth.

(There is another version of ethymology of Amarië, where her name means "of the home": "en" (S., pr., "of the") + "bâr" (S., n., "dwelling, home") + feminine suffix. Bâreneth, then? Or Bârenel(-il)? Bonus of this version — sounds like a Bëorian name.)

[bcrbleue]

maeron edits: 01/??

Princess Maeron had been both a good and difficult child. She rarely cried or fussed, but she asked many questions and challenged what went on around her. In a world like this, girls such as her were quickly humbled. And she would be humbled, but not in the way those around the princess wanted her to be.

[misswynters]

Let the World Burn

[SYNOPSIS: You and aegon have to beautiful twins, Aelora and Maeron. It takes a dark turn when you are ambushed while singing them a lullaby. You have gravely injured and the twins are no where to be seen. Aegon is furious.

[TAGS: kidnapping, pure angst, crying,

[a/n: abit rushed near the end sorry :/

The first light of dawn crept through the half-drawn curtains of your chambers, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. You stirred awake, the weight of sleep lifting from your eyes as you glanced around the familiar, cozy space. Beside you, Aegon Targaryen slept peacefully, his arm draped protectively over you.

It was a rare morning of quiet calm in the bustling capital, and you relished the tranquility. You carefully disentangled yourself from Aegon’s embrace and slid out of bed, not wanting to disturb his rest. You padded softly to the window, pulling aside the curtains to reveal the sprawling city below, bathed in the gentle morning light.

Aegon stirred at the sound, his eyes fluttering open. He stretched, his gaze immediately finding you by the window. A lazy, contented smile spread across his face as he watched you.

“Good morning, my love,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep but warm and affectionate.

You turned to face him, your heart swelling at the sight of his sleepy smile. “Good morning. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Aegon sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. “You could never wake me. The sight of you is my favorite way to start the day.”

You walked back to the bed, sitting beside him and resting your head against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat were comforting, making you feel safe and loved.

“I was thinking about how much has changed since we first met,” you murmured, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “How different everything is now.”

Aegon chuckled softly, his hand coming up to cradle your face. “Indeed. Back then, we were just two souls navigating the complexities of life and duty. Now, we have each other and our little ones.”

A soft knock at the door interrupted your quiet moment. Aegon looked up, his smile turning into a grin as he rose from the bed. You followed him to the door, and when it opened, a servant appeared, carrying a small bundle wrapped in a soft blanket.

“Your grace,” the servant said, bowing slightly. “The twins are awake and waiting for you.”

Aegon’s eyes lit up with joy. “Thank you. We’ll be right there.”

He turned to you, his expression a mixture of excitement and tenderness. “Shall we?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering with anticipation. Together, you made your way to the nursery, where the morning light filtered in through the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow.

The sight of Aelora and Maeron in their cradles brought a smile to your face. The twins, with their tiny hands and faces full of wonder, were the embodiment of love and hope. Aegon carefully lifted Aelora from her cradle, his movements gentle and practiced. He handed her to you, and you cradled her in your arms, feeling her tiny fingers curl around yours.

Aegon picked up Maeron, his face alight with a paternal pride that never failed to touch your heart. The sight of him holding his son with such care and affection was a reminder of the depth of his love for both you and your children.

“Look at them,” Aegon said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “They are everything we’ve ever dreamed of.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his with a shared understanding. “Yes, they are.”

The four of you settled into a cozy corner of the nursery, surrounded by the soft colors of the room and the gentle hum of the morning. Aegon sat beside you, his arm around your shoulders as you both took turns speaking softly to the twins, their eyes wide with curiosity as they listened to the soothing sounds of your voices.

“Do you think they know how much we love them?” you asked, looking up at Aegon.

He smiled, his gaze tender and thoughtful. “I believe they do. They feel it in every touch, every word, every glance.”

You leaned against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his love. “I’m grateful for every moment with you and our family.”

Aegon kissed the top of your head, his touch gentle and loving. “Me too. Every day with you and our children is a gift, and I cherish every second.”

As the morning sun continued to rise, casting its golden light over the nursery, you felt a profound sense of peace and happiness. With Aegon by your side and your children in your arms, everything will be alright. The warmth of the moment and the strength of your shared moments together made you feel as though you could conquer anything. In the soft embrace of the morning light, you knew that the greatest adventure was the one you were living every day—with Aegon and your precious twins.

The council chamber of the Red Keep was abuzz with the murmur of discussions as King Aegon Targaryen presided over the meeting. The large, oval table was surrounded by advisors, generals, and key figures of the realm, each discussing matters of state with a sense of urgency.

Aegon, in his regal attire, listened intently as a seasoned advisor detailed the latest developments in the kingdom. Despite the importance of the discussions, his mind kept drifting back to the nursery and the peaceful morning he had shared with you and the twins. The memory of Aelora’s soft cooing and Maeron’s playful gurgles was a balm to the relentless pressures of his duties.

Suddenly, the doors of the council chamber burst open, and a breathless messenger stormed in. His face was ashen, eyes wide with a mix of fear and urgency.

“Your Grace!” the messenger called out, struggling to catch his breath. “I have grave news.”

Aegon’s heart sank. The tension in the room shifted palpably as all eyes turned toward the messenger. Aegon’s expression hardened, a sense of dread settling over him.

“What is it?” Aegon demanded, his voice low but commanding.

The messenger hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Your grace, there has been an attack on the nursery. The twins… the twins have been taken.”

The words hit Aegon like a blow to the chest. His blood ran cold, and his mind raced with images of Aelora and Maeron in danger. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“What of ___?” Aegon asked, his voice strained. “Is the queen safe?”

The messenger’s face fell further. “The Queen… she was injured in the attack. She is being tended to by the maesters, but her condition is grave.”

Aegon’s world seemed to collapse in that moment. The thought of you, hurt and in pain, was unbearable. He could hardly process the fear and anger boiling within him. His heart ached with a profound sense of helplessness.

Without another word, Aegon turned on his heel and stormed out of the council chamber. The corridors of the Red Keep seemed to blur past him as he raced toward the royal quarters. The sounds of his hurried footsteps echoed off the stone walls, each step fueled by a fierce determination to find you and his children.

When he reached the nursery, the sight that met him was a nightmare come to life. The once serene room was now a scene of chaos, with broken furniture and scattered toys marking the violent intrusion. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and fear.

Aegon’s heart pounded in his chest as he pushed open the door to your chambers. The room was dimly lit, and you lay in bed, a pale and motionless figure amidst a flurry of concerned maesters and attendants. Your face was pale, and bandages were wrapped around your head and limbs.

Aegon’s breath caught in his throat as he approached your bedside. He knelt beside you, his hand gently brushing against your face. The warmth of your skin was reassuring, but the sight of your injuries left him feeling as though the ground beneath him had been ripped away.

“___,” he whispered, his voice trembling with anguish. “Please, stay with me.”

One of the maesters, a stern-faced man with a practiced demeanor, stepped forward. “Your Grace, the Queen is stable for now, but her injuries are severe. She needs rest and continued care.”

Aegon nodded, though his eyes never left you. “And the twins? Have there been any developments?”

The maester shook his head solemnly. “We are still trying to ascertain their whereabouts. The city is being searched, but it will take time.”

Aegon’s heart hardened with resolve. He stood up, his face set with grim determination. “I will find them. I swear it.”

With that, Aegon left your side, his mind focused solely on the task ahead. He gathered a group of trusted guards and emissaries, quickly briefing them on the situation. His commands were clear and unwavering: find the twins, bring them back safely, and bring those responsible to justice.

As he prepared to set out, he took one last look back at you, lying so still and vulnerable. A surge of fierce love and protectiveness surged through him. He would not rest until his family was safe and whole again.

The search for the twins began with urgency, every resource at Aegon’s disposal devoted to the task. He knew that each moment counted and that his determination would be tested like never before. But with the strength of his love for you and his children driving him forward, he would face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The battle for his family had only just begun, and Aegon Targaryen was prepared to fight with every ounce of his being. The flame of his resolve burned as brightly as ever, and he would not be swayed until the twins were back in his arms and you were safe once more.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @spn-obession @beebeechaos @staarflowerr @veroneverleft

banner: @cafekitsune

[erika-xero]

Another one for @lirille! Maglor and Maeron, the poet and the artist.

[vampbyteart]

let my boy maeron out of the basement to have a little midnight snack >:3

process under the cut!

[risoria]

Recent commissions of tolkien OCs Avalain and Maeron belonging to @linden-leaf and their friend!

If you’re interested I have portrait commissions for Palestine open - info in this link.

[wynco]

Just realized that at the same time the blight was happening my inquisitor was like 17 dealing with the death of his mother and suicide of his dad and is raising his not even 2 year old sister. I never thought about it like that

[ase-trollplays]

Mae, you could easily get out of the pink club but only if you get auspice-zoned. Sorry

Ha. You're hilariou§.

>> Siiiiiiiiiigh~

Thi§ i§ what happen§ when you're an excellent communicator great at enforcing boundarie§. I'm hoping thi§ won't be a problem after §onja'§ back to hi§ old grumpy §elf again. Right now he'§ too vulnerable to be anywhere near Thiomi. He'll rebound right to her, and they'll §tart having a pale affair, and her current moiraillegiance will go down in flame§.

Then I'll have three friend§ depre§§ed about their pale quadrant§. There'§ only §o much of me to go around.

[laulo821]

(bun (right) is @waffled-iron 's oc)

i think theyd get along. and have a complex relationship.

[kingsroad]

do you think you could tell us about vhaena and viserys' kids, what theyre like, what they do in the dance etc? there r a lot of them so if u just wanna tell us about your favorites that works too!

thank you so much for this! i can't tell you how delighted i am to know that people are interested in their many, many children. this... got pretty long because i’m so excited to talk about them, lmfao. this is so fucking long and so fucking sad, i’m sorry.

alyssa lannister is the eldest by only a few minutes. she, along with her brother aenar, were born on dragonstone in 97 AC, six years before viserys became king. the people were concerned when they heard that she’d begun her labors, considering she’d only been married for seven months and they worried about how early the babes seemed to be coming.

they were both healthy and remained so for all of their relatively short lives. where alyssa was an enthusiastic horseman & dragonrider like her mother, aenar was a lush, eager to spend his days lounging around at court with a pretty girl or boy around to listen to him tell tall tales.

viserys hoped to wed them, but both he and his wife knew that the lannisters would never allow it, so by the time they were both fifteen, they were betrothed to loyal houses to be married in the interim.

rhaelys came third in 100 AC -- born with silver hair and one milky eye. he was a clumsy child, which is something he never truly grew out of. but he was also incredibly smart and loved learning about the history of the seven kingdoms rather than clinging to the subject of old valyria like so many targaryens before him.

he was a gem at court, even though his brother sought to outshine him at every corner. the older men and women of houses both failing and flourishing, the scholars brought to the capital from every corner of the known world, the maesters both ancient and fresh from oldtown — they all loved him for his interest in their stories.

the first of their children to truly distance themselves from the life they had to offer her was daenys. born in 101 AC, she was a quiet, sullen child almost from birth. the fact  that she rarely cried made both vhaena and viserys dote on her, worrying for their daughter’s health after the strange matter of rhaelys’s defect.

she was healthy, for the most part, but simply quiet. not shy, not simple, but quiet. with age, that quietness flourished into a frank and observant nature that often got her into a great deal of trouble. that said, while viserys refused to name any of their children as his favorite, daenys was the one he spent most of his time with.

maeron was the last of vhaena’s children born under the guise of lannister blood, though none of them were anything but viserys’s. he came about in 104 AC, just before the tourney celebrating viserys’s accession to king. he was a hearty child, always bloodying his knees in the courtyard or pushing around boys twice his size and sometimes managing to get the upper hand.

the kingsguard called him little fang due to his biting nature and the way he gnashed his teeth while training. he hated the nickname.

vhaena and viserys did not have another child until 108 AC, once vhaena returned from two years abroad following her divorce from jason lannister. this time, she did not take a husband. she was not named as viserys’s mistress, either, and was notoriously vague about the parentage of her final three children.

elayna targaryen was the child born in 108 AC, and she was raised alongside helaena almost like a sister. they were not overly similar in terms of personality, but their close ages kept them in step with each other. they were cousins, after all.

while daenys was quiet and observant, elayna was merely observant. her intelligence sparkled, as did her charisma. bards wrote songs about the delicate little knife she was said to carry around with her, the hilt inlaid with pearls as her mother often wore. if any of their children was meant for dark work, it was the sweet-faced elayna, what with her obvious talent for deception.

but where elayna was a dagger, alora was a warhammer. even from a young age, the girl showed her interest in combat as openly as she could, and as she shot up taller than both rhaenyra and alicent’s children to the same six feet as her mother, she proved that she could handle anything they threw at her.

it was no surprise when alora ended up spawning a vicious rivalry between herself and aegon targaryen, who loathed being so routinely bested by a girl. she was brazen and bold -- exactly the maiden her mother wished she could have been. or, rather, the maiden vhaena was beyond closed doors, with those she trusted.

the last of their children was a son — aenys. he was born late in 110 AC, one of two children that vhaena carried to term and thought to be healthy.  but where one of them was indeed a strong babe, the other was stillborn, and the birth was extremely difficult on vhaena. the maester warned her that she should not risk having more children, and after the events that stole aemma from him, viserys agreed that this would be their last.

aenys was her sweetheart, and for once, a doting mother did not develop an ignorant or annoying son. the boy was impossibly kind and loved animals from an early age, though his dragon’s egg never hatched. he brought to the family an almost endless amount of optimism and light, and all of his siblings loved him.

events of the dance of the dragons.

aenar was the first to come to trouble following aegon’s crowning, as he had remained in king’s landing even when his mother and siblings fled to dragonstone. not only did he feel — foolishly — that alicent would not consider him a threat, but life at court was his raison d'être. being without it felt like cutting off a limb.

he was thrown into the dungeon in the belly of the red keep and left to rot, barely kept alive with water and scraps for the better part of a year.

but while aenar was the first to come to trouble, alyssa was the first of viserys and vhaena’s eight children to die. desperate to have her brother back with them, she took it upon herself to return to king’s landing.

after all, she was not noticeably targaryen like her other siblings with her dirty blonde hair. she dressed herself in rags and covered her face and used every trick she’d ever learned to get into the dungeon. not that those tricks  were enough to keep her alive when guards set upon her with swords. she was run through and left behind for the rats, thought to be no more than a cutpurse.

aenar died some months later, when the existence of viserys targaryen’s firstborn son was all but forgotten in the midst of all the chaos. the glittering gem of the realm died of dehydration, mere meters from where his sister had been killed, unknown to him.

with one brother jailed and one sister missing, the six remaining siblings remained relatively well and alive for years. maeron became one of daemon’s closely kept secrets, along with his she-dragon — ironhide — who was said to breathe black fire, like his father’s balerion. little fang proved to have a nasty bite, and he is part of the reason the castellan of harrenhal bent the knee to daemon and joined the blacks.

while elayna and daenys joined their cousins and other members of the blacks in the efforts towards bringing more lords to their cause, rhaelys remained at dragonstone, keeping aenar and alyssa’s dragons healthy, though he still did not have one of his own. it was alora who took to aenar’s dragon, tyrhai, and proved a terror for it.

after years bonded to the rather ineffectual aenar, tyrhai relished the opportunity to be ridden by someone with blood on the mind.

the next to die was daenys.

while traveling through the riverlands, she lingered for the night in claypool to rest after a long flight with her young dragon, still unnamed even after so many years and only referred to as darling by daenys herself. it was there that she found herself at odds with aemond and his men.

she truly had no chance, even with darling close at hand. the dragon was easily done away with -- a net thrown over its slender body and its throat slit by soldiers, and the soft-spoken princess was killed as unceremoniously with a sword through her belly.

ser criston cole found her body amongst other corpses just outside of claypool, sat up against the blackened belly of an apple tree in her bloodied silver dress. darling’s corpse was curled around the tree’s trunk and its head was placed carefully into her lap, as if daenys was hoping to comfort her even after death.

sometime between daenys’s death and the next of her family, elayna was taken hostage and brought to oldtown for questioning.

maeron fell shortly after, but not in the way anyone would have expected such a valiant fighter to perish.

a month before the events at tumbleton, he caught rhaelys slipping something into their mother’s cup. his elder brother had long-since taken care of vhaena, given how torn up with grief and mourning the woman was at the loss of her love and  her children. she had not cried in some time, however. not spoken. it was that night when maeron discovered why.

rhaelys was using medicine as a way to keep her docile, using the methods she’d so often used to help their father with his pain. the ones rhaelys used on her, however, were dangerous things, often mixed into poisons in greater amounts.

when maeron attacked him, rhaelys did all he could to survive the encounter. rather than fighting back, he grasped a handful of powdered greycap and shoved it into his brother’s mouth, using his superior size to pin his younger brother to the ground and force him to swallow enough to kill him.

then, ashamed of himself and his desperation to survive, rhaelys fled dragonstone.

alora returned to the island following a letter from her mother. she was needed, vhaena said, grief-stricken still and recovering from the sudden throes of detoxification from years of being nursed small doses of poison by her son. “bring my strong girl back home.”

there, vhaena kept alora and aenys for as long as she could, until the rage inside of her furious daughter broke free, and she took to the sky with tyrhai again, this time turning her attention towards aemond at harrenhal. she hated leaving her mother, but at the same time, she needed to fight. her blood sang for it.

so, with only aenys left to her, vhaena remained at dragonstone... for  only a month more.

when aegon ii and lord larys turned their sights towards dragonstone and the remaining targaryens, vhaena could no longer stay. she knew that she could no longer stay. day and night for nearly a week, she scoured the castle looking for aenys. she cried out to him for hours and hours, until her throat was bloody and raw, and she never found him.

the morning she took goldenlyre and left dragonstone was also the morning vhaena died. not to aegon and sunfyre, not to his soldiers, not to larys, but to the cannibal, knocked from the air and devoured for breakfast.

aenys survived because he hid. he survived everything because he was a slip of a thing and afraid, no matter how much his mother’s fearful howling for him broke his heart.

thankfully, alora never learned of how her mother died or how her brother hid like a coward until he could run someplace safe. she was killed before the ravens could reach her -- shot down from tyrhai’s back just over the god’s eye. while her dragon survived, she did not. there was no surviving that fall.

it was said that elayna laughed when news finally reached her, with tears like pearls in her eyes. much was said about all of them that didn’t turn out to be true, but that most of all. she did not laugh when she heard the news, nor did she cry.